Shooting 007: And Other Celluloid Adventures (25 page)

Before returning from Budapest, I had been asked to suggest a few names as my replacement. Unfortunately the selected camera operator did not get on with the director, Richard Fleischer, so he would return to the UK once a replacement could be found. Once again the Budapest production office called me at Pinewood, asking me to recommend another replacement.

Coincidence? I’m not sure about that, but
The Spy Who Loved Me
had gone back two weeks, which I had only discovered on my return to England. Now the sudden delay on
Spy
left me hanging around with little to do. When I explained the problem of
Crossed Swords
to the Bond production manager, David Middlemas, he quickly got the message and gave me his blessing to go – if only to get me out of his busy office. The next morning I was on my way back to Hungary.

October 1976 and back on location in Egypt for
The Spy Who Loved Me
.
Left to Right:
Alec Mills (camera operator), Doug Milsome (focus puller), Danny Shelmerdine (clapper loader) and Claude Renoir (cinematographer). (© 1977 Danjaq, LLC and United Artists Corporation. All rights reserved)

With my return to Budapest, the first thing to do was to speak to the departing camera operator, who was realistic about the situation; in truth he was happy to go home. Returning to the set I was welcomed back, and assumed that few knew the real reason for my sudden return, even if it was obvious to Suzy. Making the most of that final week, we decided that she should apply for a visa to visit England for the Christmas celebrations, but even this would not come easily, with Suzy’s application coming from a communist country. Yet another setback …

Sure enough, back home a knock on the door confronted me with two very tall gentlemen.

‘Mr Mills? Mr Alexander Mills?’ they enquired.

Inspector Plod and his silent companion looked down at me with great suspicion, introducing themselves as Scotland Yard detectives. There was no alternative but to let them in to Lil’s home, where the two ice-cold law enforcers started asking personal questions: where would Suzy be staying … sleeping …? questions that frightened the life out of Lily – what on earth had her son been up to?

I casually mentioned that I was a friend of agent 007 but they remained unimpressed and the joke died. Two hours would pass before the grilling came to an end, with the law enforcers persuaded that all was well in this household – a true and honest Brit helped in no small way by Lil bribing them with the traditional cuppa to help lighten their suspicions towards me. All that remained now was for the Passport Office to issue that all-important visa to the British Consulate in Budapest; with all this bureaucracy we decided that Suzy should apply for the necessary document straight away, four months before it was required.

Meanwhile, back at Pinewood, my suspicions that Lewis had not been happy with Henri Decae were confirmed with a change of cinematographer, although his preference would remain for a French cameraman. This time it would be Claude Renoir, the grandson of the famous impressionist artist; he fitted in well with his pleasant personality.

This time 007 was tracking Britain’s enemies to Abu Simbel, Luxor and Karnak, not forgetting the pyramids of Giza, the usual preferred Egyptian filming locations which eventually end in the torture of Cairo’s stifling summer heat, where endless sandstorms made filming difficult to cope with. The Luxor location would inevitably bring the grumblings of poor catering which eventually reached the ear of Cubby Broccoli, who just happened to know where he could get his hands on an unlimited supply of spaghetti, which our friendly producer cooked and served himself – a rare treat, to be sure, of which I unashamedly took advantage of by approaching our illustrious chef with plate in hand.

‘Please, sir, can I have more?’

‘More? MORE?’ Cubby bellowed back, appreciating the Dickens moment. Wiping his hands on his spattered apron, he happily refilled my plate … a wonderful man, not only for his cooking.

Another location involved our filming on board a nuclear submarine at the Faslane Naval Base on the shores of Gare Loch in Scotland. Lewis suddenly came up with the idea of filming head-on a torpedo being loaded into the tube, and to meet with the director’s ‘wishes’ (I choose the word carefully as I suspect that Roger Moore was really behind this) I would be required to ease myself backwards into the heavily greased confines of the tube, pulling my handheld camera with accessories along with me while in the receding background Lewis and Roger stood grinning, their echoing voices in the chamber asking, ‘Can you swim, Alec?’ Roger was pointing his finger, indicating that he was close to the firing button but this was no time for accidents or one of Roger’s practical jokes, although no doubt he would have enjoyed the vision of me travelling through the water hanging on to the nose of the torpedo which was now sliding straight towards me. In the black, claustrophobic silence with the nose of the torpedo only inches from the lens I finally yelled ‘CUT! I can’t swim!’

At the end of any 007 location the comfort of Pinewood’s sound stages would always be a welcome sight as we returned to more familiar surroundings. Even so a Bond script guarantees no let-up for artistes or crew as the action continues in the confines of the studio. On a stage we allegedly enjoy the benefit of more controlled filming conditions, but there was one occasion when I was reminded of a similar situation in
Gold
, except that instead of Simon Sabela this time Roger would enjoy the more attractive company of Barbara Bach, in the guise of Major Anya Amasova, a.k.a. Russian Agent Triple-X, his gorgeous adversary.

We were filming a flooding sequence where our two heroes were trying to escape certain death from the villain’s lair, Atlantis, when a sudden powerful surge of water became too much for Barbara to handle. As she was washed away from Roger’s outstretched wet hands he tried to catch her, but this time 007 failed. Looking through the camera, a new hero became aware of the situation and I managed to grab her outstretched arm before she sailed on past my camera. My reward came with a kiss … as I smiled smugly back at 007!

A Bond film would not be the same without the usual team from the Ministry: an irritated ‘M’ played by Bernard Lee or the frustrated genius of Major Boothroyd – a.k.a. ‘Q’ – played by Desmond Llewelyn, and of course the delightful Miss Moneypenny (Lois Maxwell), who forever keeps alive her dream of romance with James.

With everything that happened throughout my career I am not sure that I really believe that it all was just ‘coincidence’ – which is possibly a convenient word used to cover up the reality – so was this next event meant to be? Many questions remain unanswered in life and time alone will tell …

With time moving on I waited on news of Suzy’s trip to England which, it would seem, was not going to happen. My one consolation was that my daily adventures with 007 were keeping me occupied. Although my thoughts were not completely with Budapest, people on the set knew about and were interested in Suzy’s arrival; in particular, there was a gentleman going by the name of Fred, a unit driver who had kindly offered to meet Suzy at Heathrow should she manage to get there. Everyone was being very kind to me.

With the Christmas holiday fast approaching and still no news from the embassy in Budapest, Suzy chased the officials every day with little gain. It would seem that confirmation was required from London before the documents could be issued and now, well into December and both embassies closing down for Christmas, the planned holiday appeared doomed to fail; it would take a miracle for this to happen now.

Enter Fred, the miracle man – a gentleman I hardly knew – who came onto the stage to see me.

‘Any news with Suzy?’ he enquired.

Many people are employed on films and one rarely gets to know them all by name as was the case with this Fred, but for some strange or wonderful reason he was kind enough to take an interest in our situation. Out of courtesy I explained the situation which Suzy found herself in and he listened patiently to the story, then turned back as he left.

‘I’ll make a phone call.’

He smiled and off he went about his business while I smiled too, wondering who this clown was. Obviously I didn’t take the gentleman seriously, thinking it unlikely that this kindly person would have any influence over government administration. Even so, Fred was kind and sympathetic to my cause, where by now I had accepted that Christmas would be celebrated in Croxley Road. However, it turned out that Fred’s fiancée worked in the visa office in London and he had asked her to check out the situation and see if Suzy’s visa had been granted, and if it had, then why it had not been forwarded to Budapest.

Apparently it was still in the out tray; undaunted by all of the red tape, the lady somehow managed to get the visa transferred to the British embassy in Budapest, where it was quickly passed on to the applicant. By now Suzy had given up all hope of news ever coming from the embassy, which had closed down for the holiday. Even so, the ‘miracle’ continued on its way when a kind lady at the embassy who was aware of the situation phoned Suzy with the news. On receiving confirmation that the visa had been approved, she hurried to the embassy to collect the precious document, where again our ‘luck’ held with Suzy managing to get a ticket to fly to London, when normally at that time of the year the airlines would have been full.

Take what you will from all this, but if this situation had been written into a script it would probably be considered ridiculous, stupid or absurd – at best most unlikely. Yet this really happened, but again anything can happen in the world of James Bond. I realise, of course, that all this reads like fiction while others will see it as just coincidence, but, whatever label they choose, and in spite of all the red tape of government administration, Suzy and I would celebrate the holiday together – and all because of a gentleman going by the name of Fred.

To bring this extraordinary account to a close, I would not meet Fred again after the holiday or for the rest of the film, so I would never get the opportunity to thank him for his help, although I am sure we will meet again in the future, in another place at another time. Some may ask if this person ever existed or if it could all just be in my imagination. All I can say is that there is no denying this really happened. What’s more, in the future I would pay much more attention to these so-called ‘coincidences’.

A close friend and colleague, John Alcott, and his wife Sue loaned us their flat over the Christmas break in Chelsea, so Croxley Road would no longer be required.

Dear Mr Cardiff,

Recently I enjoyed your film The Magic Box which as a camera assistant I was of course interested in your contribution with the photography. Soon I hope to continue my career as a camera assistant when completing my national service in the navy, possibly to meet and work with you one day. Should you have need of a camera assistant … (blah … blah …blah … ending with my insufficient Carlton Hill credits.)

Yours sincerely …

That was the general gist and part of an impertinent letter addressed to Jack Cardiff now many years past; I imagine it is probably not unlike those sent by today’s students, so I can understand their passion and why they need to do this.