Jonnie Hurn in Isolation – 1st August 2011 – London
Hamer picks me up from at lunch time: twelve noon to be exact to the milli second (he is like that). He dropped me of at 08:30 this morning, he has had less sleep then me and I am totally shattered. As I step out an get in to his car I am overwhelmed by the stench of coffee and red bull. Today is going to be interesting, I can tell already.
As we pull away he presses play on the car stereo and smiles at me. I had forgotten how good Blur’s “Park Life” is as an LP. We find ourselves mimicking Hills “Goood Roger ….. Panda panda panda. Fantastic ….Great….. Fucking Genius” Press repeat and continue to London and you will get the idea.
We arrive at the Queen Elizabeth halls on the south bank. Jonnie Hurn sits away from the crew, his role today is all about loss and separation and as a result he has been sent to Coventry. We ignore him and let him experience his isolation or maybe rejection (that is his gig) Jonnie will nail it, he always does but on this occasion it will be a piece of piss for him, it is his life after all. Jonnie’s wife and child live in the south of France, he sees them about once a month, they are separated by economics NOT love. It is awful to be around, witness. If I found a lamp to rub and get my three wishes I will use my first to get him home more frequently. I love this cat, he is not only one of the best actors I have ever seen he is also a dear friend. We have a good history together this is our fourth film.
The crew are setting up quickly. We have an audience today, the roof gardens are packed with a good three hundred people all of whom have a curiosity about what is going on, It has been a long time since I have felt so many eyes burn into my spine. So many frozen questions caught on shy lips, are we already Baphomet’s children. Are we already tired and irritable, unable to be welcoming and friendly? Shit we are only three days in! We can’t be scarring people already.
Jonnie and Rosie nail their scene in no time. The delays come from Camera jams (three hairs in the gate) and Paul Hills being too fastidious. Without this we would have been an hour and a half ahead of time. I can see he is chasing magic and can almost forgive him, at one point I see him crying over the tiny monitor. Perhaps he is right. Fuck who am I kidding he has won 8 international festival awards for “Do Elephant Prey?” what do I know. I watch him cry and my dark side wakes, should I film this, is this good for the doc.. do I chase this truth.. the truth.. the truth Manson. I don’t. I quickly realise that this is my pebble. My moment with Paul, you can all fuck off. This is us, he turns and looks at me and nods, a moment between brothers, we both know the multi levelled beauty of this situation. There will be more tears before bedtime. We can film those, this is private.
We close this scene down and prepare to break down for the Hoxton shoot when I hear the worst news I can imagine. Rosie has been wrapped for the film. I have got things hideously confused. This is her last day (day fucking three) I could have worked with her yesterday but spent my time trying to chat up Moroccan models now I have rapidly fading light and no research to do a killer interview with a great actress, this is really bad, this is my only chance and the sun is fading really fast…. Fuck fuck fuck.
I grab Hamer and chuck my camera at Jonnie “Do you want a cam operator credit on IMDB…” he pauses “Not really” I grab Rosie and as a fractious group we walk back through the crowd. I turn left away from the river heading towards concrete monstrosities and narrower apertures, things feel hopeless but my instinct keeps dragging me further in to the abyss. I am rewarded by hazard (Not for the first time) by a vision of biblical proportions. An art instillation is being erected of views for the battle fields of Afghanistan. I throw Rosie in front of the building works, Paul Hamer intently takes up Primary camera I move Jonnie in to the obvious cut away and get his camera up to speed. As the camera’s speed my mind goes jet black blank.
I am transported back through time to four years previously. My father just before he had to go into full time care. Alzheimer’s literally ripping his memory and I suspect reality in to threads. He would clutch at safe words like “Interesting” “Nice” and “Lovely” I remember saying to him on a day like today, nearly cloudless, British summertime warm. “What a lovely day” he replied “Yes it’s…appropriate”
This memory and my frustration have just crippled me. I am seconds away from tears so I pull down my sunglasses and fire of a set of uninspiring questions like “Can you explain your characters role within the architecture of the story?” I have reverted to doing an EPK interview. Just one haircut, some dentistry and a diet away from a promising career on channel 17.
Once we finish I try to apologise to Rosie. She is such a pro she just lets it go and says she thought it was good. A simple lie to save my embarrassment, the truth Manson, it seems we have all forgotten its relevance. Where did it go? Well it was last spotted skipping down the road with my credibility. The make a nice couple apparently.
We break down and head out to Hoxton with the low loader. We are driving 20 miles to do a single shot of them driving off that we probably won’t even use. Hamer doesn’t appear to happy with that. But I enjoy taking Mark Forstater with us in the car. We will all be living together soon enough. Try to make friends sooner rather than later. He is a nice guy He produced Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I tease him by suggesting that this was the film that inspired the Da Vinci Code. He didn’t laugh. Oops.
Ian Manson Film Maker