Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

by Sladen, Elisabeth

  Oh here we go, I thought.

  ‘The way you do things – it’s that old Hollywood style of acting.’

  I could have hugged him. All those films I used to love as a child, the silent ones and the early talkies, they’re still my favourites. I particularly loved the body language in those pictures, the way the actors could achieve so much without words. Lillian Gish in Broken Blossoms is an absolute masterclass – that scene where she goes down rapids on a raft should be in drama textbooks. All actors then were trying to add another dimension to the piece. Maybe that’s why I love doing action myself. And the reason they managed it was so simple – a lot of the actors had other lives before they found the movies. So many people, like Joseph Cotton in Orson Welles’ company, had backgrounds in vaudeville or radio that they arrived in Hollywood as all-round entertainers with an armoury of tricks they could apply to film. Cary Grant started out being a juggler and an acrobat and it’s there onscreen in the way he moves. There’s one film where he’s sitting by a side table and he knocks the table and his hat goes down. He just reaches out and catches it so effortlessly. It’s so clever, so understated and light and funny. I’m not that good with props so I do admire anyone else who is – I’m all right on the rehearsal and then it comes to the take and I become really cack-handed.

  There were more new faces behind the scenes as well. L. Rowland Warne was in charge of costumes – and boy did we have fun with this one! – while Magdalen Gaffney was my third makeup supervisor in as many serials. Obviously Magdalen had a lot of other people to tend to and those requiring most makeup, like the alien Exxilons themselves, dominated her time, so an assistant was assigned to do me.

  We were chatting away while the slap went on and then proudly she showed me a mirror. God, my face was so shiny it was almost silver!

  ‘What have you done?’

  The girl bristled. ‘This is a space programme, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes – but I come from Earth!’

  Magdalen just fell about. ‘What’s she done to you? You’re luminous!’

  For the rest of the week she did me herself.

  Coincidentally, it was while I was in makeup the next day that I got a shout to nip outside. Obviously Daleks can’t easily negotiate sand dunes so a network of train track had been laid for them to roll around some rocks and down a little hill. Why have I been called out for this? I wondered.

  But I was so glad I went.

  The director called ‘Action!’ and the three Daleks, led as usual by John Scott Martin, started gliding along this track, as smooth as if they were in a studio. They’d only been going a second or two, though, when they began to pick up speed. Suddenly we heard this almighty ‘Wheeeeee!’ coming from them as they realised they were going too fast – and with the corner approaching. The next thing I knew, there was a pile of Daleks on their sides, rolling around like skittles!

  Everyone rushed over to get the poor guys upright again but we couldn’t do it for laughing. Forget the joke about the most terrifying force in the universe having a problem with stairs – they can’t even handle bends.

  Watching the Exxilons navigate the terrain was just as funny. In fact, considering it was their planet, they were hysterical. Exxilons were these sack-like creatures who crept around the hills, taking pot shots at the rest of us. Not being able to see their faces always makes villains seem more sinister – at least that was the theory. But every time these scary savages had to stagger up the hill, one of them would tread on their costume and you’d see a surprised head pop through the hood.

  There was a nice feel to the whole shoot, I have to say. A lot of that, I think, came from Jon getting on better with this particular director than he had with Paddy. Jon was a bit like Bagpuss in that respect. If he was having a good day, then everyone would, too.

  Michael E. Briant had directed The Green Death among others and he knew how to get the best out of Jon. When it came to it, I can’t say I felt a similar bond – he really didn’t seem interested in much to do with Sarah Jane at all.

  Some of Michael’s techniques with his star were a little off-the-wall, though. I remember one chilly day us being lined up for a shot when he looked at me and said, ‘Lis, give Jon a slap, would you?’

  Well, that’s not in the script, I thought.

  Jon virtually did a double-take. ‘Why would Sarah Jane slap me?’ he spluttered. ‘We’re great friends.’

  ‘I know you are, Jon,’ the director laughed, ‘but your face is turning blue.’

  Actually, there was one occasion when we did actually slap each other for real. Jon loved diving and had spent a lot of time in the South Seas. His house was full of bits and pieces plucked from the seabed. When he was drunk he would sometimes tell bawdy stories from his trips over there. I always assumed he was joking but one day I made the mistake of referring to one of his tall tales when we were both sober. That was it – his hand went smack across my face!

  Well, he got a slap straight back.

  Safe to say, although we immediately kissed and made up, that was probably the lowest point in our relationship, but I guess he had been telling the truth.

  * * *

  God it was cold, but being in a quarry in Dorset in mid-November, what did we expect? There were no Winnebagoes or trailers to hide from the elements in those days. Any spare half hours and I’d smuggle myself onto the bus for a nap or just to warm up.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t bear the temperature any more, Michael announced the final scene of the shoot. I’d been dreading this. It was bad enough being out there in Sarah Jane’s suit but now I’d have to do it in a bikini!

  The last Dinosaurs episode ended with the Doctor promising to take me to the holiday planet of Florana, so as Daleks begins I’m all set to go with swimming togs, lilo and parasol. I know Sarah Jane is meant to be striking a blow for feminists across the universe, but I was actually quite excited by the idea (it’s nice to be a bit playful with a character every now and again). It was my idea to have a beach ball, I remember – I thought that could be fun – and I didn’t mind being asked to put a swimsuit on. I just thought, I must remember to shave my legs!

  Most of those scenes were filmed later in the studio but first we had to capture me exiting the TARDIS, dressed – that’s right – for 100 degrees, not 30. Anyone who thinks acting is all lipstick and glamour should really think again. As there was no way I was leaving the hotel dressed like that, I had to get changed on the bus. Heating systems on coaches in 1973 left a lot to be desired, let me tell you. Even worse, I had to stand semi-naked for ages while they hosed me with fake tan – a hideous experience to end a pretty good week.

  * * *

  I always enjoyed the camaraderie of location shoots and everyone being at the same hotels, eating at the same restaurants and sharing the same buses. You don’t always get on with everyone but there are enough people around for you all to have your own friends.

  After a week away, however, it was still a relief to get back to the home comforts of London where even the relentless slog of the rehearse, record, rehearse, record at North Acton seemed quite welcome. Before we got going at the read-through, however, Barry had some news – and it wasn’t good.

  ‘I just wanted to let you all know that this will be my last series as producer,’ he announced. ‘It’s time to move on to other things.’

  Oh my God! We all sat there in shock. As far as I was concerned, Barry was Doctor Who. Jon might be the star, but Barry was the programme. Barry had overseen the show’s transfer into colour, he had forced the Corporation to investigate and then adopt the latest Colour Separation Overlay techniques. Thanks to his close relationship with Terry Dicks he had also influenced and written storylines, and had even directed several episodes. His influence was truly extraordinary. And, of course, he had created Sarah Jane Smith and cast me in the role. What a great decision that was!

  Barry wasn’t the only hole we had to plug. Terry Dicks had announced his departure som
e months earlier and his successor, Robert Holmes, had been shadowing him for a while now. Rumour has it that it was Robert’s idea to call our current serial Death to the Daleks out of pure wishful thinking because he hated them so much. Robert, of course, wrote The Time Warrior, so I had a lot to thank him for. He could have turned my character any which way (although I’m sure Barry kept a very close eye).

  I liked Robert. We both enjoyed all things gothic. Over the coming months I drew comfort from spying him in the wings, pipe in mouth, very tall, very upright, but always nodding, like a dog rocking in the back of a car. You always felt brainy in his presence, he just oozed quiet confidence. I’d sometimes go and stand by him just to feel his strength.

  ‘Hello, Robert.’

  ‘How are we, girl?’

  ‘Fine, fine.’

  ‘How’s the work today?’

  ‘Fine, fine.’

  He and Terry were chalk and cheese. Whereas Robert was extremely contained, the thinking man with the pipe like his namesake, Sherlock, Terry was so ebullient, so funny and so very open. When we went to the fortieth anniversary celebration of Doctor Who at the Houses of Parliament, he was such a scream. ‘When does the bar open? I wouldn’t have come if I’d known …’

  With Terry and Barry, the lynchpins of the show, leaving so soon after Katy Manning and following the tragic death in a car accident of Jon’s close pal on the show, Roger Delgado, who played fellow Time Lord the Master with such sinister class, I was apprehensive as to the future of the programme. Audiences don’t always embrace change. Mess with the ingredients too much and viewers start disconnecting. At least we’ve still got Jon, I thought.

  * * *

  North Acton was such a divine environment to work in and by our third serial Jon and I were in a comfortable groove. The regimented rehearsal/recording demarcation was quite liberating, actually. On day one Jon and I would arrive and we’d go through our scenes, script in hand, working things out. Gradually over the course of the session the lines just seep into your memory. It’s a lovely way to work, actually, very organic. You block sections out, work on them, have fun experimenting and don’t even realise sometimes that you’re memorising quite large chunks of text. And as changes get made as you go, you’re not lumbered with having to re-learn something in a different form. I wish we still had that system now. On The Sarah Jane Adventures we’re expected to have the whole episode in our heads from day one. You’ve got to be good to go on the first day – it’s more like cramming for an exam.

  Rehearsals at the Acton Hilton began in the last week of November after a hurried trip back to Dorset for some extra scenes. Script under my arm, I met Jon in the canteen and we had a guess at what the day would hold. It turned out we were wrong. Michael E. Briant declared right at the start that we would not be working on Episodes 1 and 2, as expected. Instead, we would work through the script on a strict set-by-set basis. In other words, all tunnel shots from all episodes were done at once, TARDIS shots bundled together, Dalek ship scenes paired up, etc., regardless of where they fell in the serial. My initial reaction was, OK, whatever. Let’s go. Jon, on the other hand, wasn’t happy at all. And when Bagpuss wasn’t happy …

  But it was no good arguing. Briant had decided to try and avoid wear and tear on the sets by not using them, storing them, then digging them out again. Get a set in place, film everything, put it away – it made sense but only if you treated the actors as chess pieces.

  It was the filming equivalent of completing a jigsaw puzzle before you’ve got the edges in place. After one day my script was littered with notes. ‘O.O.B.’ didn’t begin to cover it. Running, walking, happy, sad, chatty, quiet, close to Jon, coat on or off, hair neat or messy … And, of course, it wasn’t just me I was trying to keep track of: Jon was completely at sea filming in this way. In five seasons I think this was the first time he’d been asked to do anything like it.

  I didn’t envy the person in charge of continuity on Death to the Daleks, although I didn’t exactly make that particular job any easier. There is a scene where I’ve been captured by the Exxilons and am being prepared for sacrifice. In the script I think I should have been hung from the ceiling. In reality I was told to stand, arms above my head, with my hands tied to a pole – which was actually a broom handle. That’s how thought out this particular scene was. I can’t remember if it was the floor manager or the assistant studio manager, but he was the one who held the sweeping head out of shot while I was dangling away. What I do remember, however, is that this scene went on for bloody ages while the Exxilons danced around their fire.

  As soon as they stopped pointing the camera at me I unhooked myself from the broom handle and tried to shake some life into my arms. ‘I need to have a sit down,’ I told Chris D’Oyly-John.

  As floor manager Chris was the director’s voice on the studio floor, so he said, ‘Fine. Just don’t wander off.’

  So off I went to find a piece of scenery to rest on while they got on with preparing for another angle shoot of the sacrifice set-up. I was so busy trying to massage some feeling back into my wrists where they’d been tied that I didn’t notice another camera angle change. The new angle focused on the Exxilons – but the camera was pointing exactly where I should be dangling in the background.

  Oh Christ, I thought, pulling myself up, I’m in this scene!

  ‘Chris,’ I said, but he just waved a hand dismissively and called, ‘OK, everyone, action!’

  ‘But, Chris …’ I persevered.

  ‘Not now, Lis,’ he hissed.

  Well, sod it then, I thought. You’re not having me.

  So I sat back down.

  To this day I don’t know if anyone has ever noticed but look carefully and there you see me – and there you don’t.

  * * *

  As I mentioned, I really think Death to the Daleks is one of the forgotten classics. It had everything – impotent, double-crossing Daleks, a mysterious alien planet, a pretty tense chase scene – even a bit of Venusian hop-scotch. Acting with the Daleks in the studio was a lot more satisfying than out in a glorified sand pit. For a start they were designed to roll around on a flat studio surface, so their mobility wasn’t an issue but up close, in the right setting, they really did look intimidating. I’m no sci-fi fan, as I’ve said, but within context they are damn scary, I can assure you.

  At least they are in the studio. In the rehearsal room it’s quite a different story.

  Obviously John, Cy and Murphy didn’t want to be lumbered with the whole Dalek paraphernalia at North Acton but neither was it any use if they simply wandered around normally. So they would learn all their lines, bless them – because obviously they were dubbed by Michael for broadcast – then hop into just the bottom half of the Dalek suit. Watching these three wheel around the room, using their hands as the sink plunger and whisk, took a bit of getting used to before the laughs stopped but it was the perfect compromise, really.

  I don’t know if Terry Nation ever saw one of these rehearsals. Maybe that’s where he got the inspiration for the look of Davros.

  When it came to the studio days, Michael sat there at the side with headphones and a mic so we could hear the words in real time.

  I say ‘studio days’ – that was another thing Briant meddled with. Rather than shoot on both Mondays and Tuesdays as was tradition, he decided to dedicate Monday to rehearsals and Tuesdays to all-day filming. What an ordeal! It wasn’t just that we were used to the old way, although that certainly contributed to our annoyance, but such a gap between rehearsal and ‘action!’ was way too long. Worse, having to cram the equivalent of two episodes into a single day piled on too much pressure. By the end of each Tuesday I was ready to kill; we all were.

  If I hate something, I have a moan but then I get on with it. Jon couldn’t do that – this new way of working knocked him for six. As much as anything, he hadn’t been consulted and I could see his temper getting worse as the weeks went by. Learning lines was more of an effort for him, focu
sing on rehearsals seemed arduous and keeping a civil tongue in his head with Briant around was sometimes a chore too much. I really felt for him. It was Jon’s show, he was the name above the title yet he was being forced to work in a way that really didn’t get the best out of him.

  The second Jon realised he wasn’t enjoying it any more his mind went into overdrive. ‘I’m not being paid enough to work like this,’ he announced during a break. ‘It’s time to have a word with the powers that be.’

  At the time I didn’t think much of it. He’s probably just letting off steam, like the rest of us, I told myself.

  * * *

  Shooting on Death to the Daleks finished for me on 18 December. How on earth it was nearly Christmas already I had no idea, but as we wrapped late at night there was a spring in everyone’s step – even Jon’s – and it wasn’t just the prospect of a few days off. Three days earlier, on Saturday, 15 December, the first episode of The Time Warrior had finally gone out on BBC1. I don’t know how they work these things out, but viewing figures were good – nearly nine million people!

  Of course, when I sat down with Brian at 5.10 that Saturday afternoon I had no idea whether it would be a success or not. I know it’s only television and I’d recorded the show back in May, but I had a real case of first night jitters. As the continuity announcer introduced the programme it felt exactly like that moment when the curtain is about to go up – and you’re not sure you remember all the lines.

  I don’t know what I was so nervous about. You never know what’s going to be added afterwards but I was pleased with how it turned out. The special effects were unlike anything I’d ever seen before and seeing how they worked the TARDIS was mind-blowing, really. I thought I did all right, too, but I still had that nagging doubt: what if the viewers don’t take to me after Katy?

  ‘Stop fussing,’ Brian said. ‘They’ll love you.’

  I wasn’t convinced.

  Half an hour later, the end credits barely faded from the screen and our phone rang. It was Mum. The whole family had gathered round the telly at home, she reported, and they were all so proud of me.