Always the Bad Guy

by Shane Briant

  Produced by Australia's Channel Ten, Gaumont Television, and Village Roadshow, 'Tales of the South Seas' was a period series – the title really says it all. All the usual suspects were asked up to the palm-fringed set at one time or another, both actors and directors. The stars were young and attractive; William Snow and Rachel Blakely.

  We all stayed in a very comfortable hotel in Airlie Beach in the Whitsundays, which is about half the way up the coast of Queensland. They say about Queensland, 'Beautiful one day, perfect the next.' For those reading this book in colder climes, such as the UK, I'm here to tell you that with the exception of the devastating floods of 2011, this is true. I loved every minute of it, but can't remember a damned thing about the story.

  I do remember that my old mate Mark Lee played a very stitched up clergyman and that we ate wonderful food and drank great wine every evening – a far cry from working at the BBC in West Acton.

  When 'Tales of the South Seas' wasn't picked up for another series, Jeffrey Hayes simply invented another production, called 'The Lost World,' with the same two young stars, William Snow and Rachel Blakely. The same directors flew up and the same guest artists populated the cast. Almost a club!

  It was always rumoured that Hayes had a little black book in which he made a note of actors he thought could act well, as well as being reliable. I'm sure it's true – too many directors have told me they saw it. Aussie actors have to thank Jeffrey because over the years he's provided us with a lot of good paying work.

  This Queensland escape was followed by yet another Roger Mirams inspired children's series by the name of 'Escape of the Artful Dodger.'

  It was again made by the Grundy Organization and directed by a very talented Polish director by the name of Sophia Turkiewicz.

  God bless Roger – what Jeffrey Hayes did for television series made specifically for the American market, Roger did for children's shows made for Australia. Incidentally, Roger was the first to employ a very young Nicole Kidman!

  'Escape of the Artful Dodger.' Grundy Int. Films.

  I made my choice to live in Australia in 1982 and during those boom times I made about two films a year as well as countless television shows. At that particular time, things were not so hot in England. So when the downturn came in the '90's I could hardly complain.

  Australia has some wonderful directors such as Bruce Beresford, Roger Donaldson, Gillian Armstrong, Fred Schepisi and Peter Weir, but when they break through they usually go to Hollywood and are lost to we Aussie actors. So having spent the best ten years of my life in Sydney when the times were good, I wasn't about to complain when the lean years came.

  'The Artful Dodger,' Roger's next television series had a great cast of kids, including my old friend, Brittany Byrnes.

  The story was in essence 'What happened to Oliver Twist when he went to Australia?' When Oliver gets reunited with his grandfather he is sent to Australia. He is accompanied by Hannah,

  When Hannah discovers that some bad guy wants to frame Dodger and Will for a crime he is planning to commit, she and Oliver make a plan to help Dodger and Will escape.

  The 'Mission' and 'Treasure Island' team inventively wrote it, and the sets were a joy to behold, thanks again to Tony Raes. It looked so rich on screen, one had to believe Roger when he maintained that practically the entire budget was there to see. I played an incredibly stuffy English Colonel. Not so much a bad guy as a 'stitched-up' twit.

  As good as the finished result was, the Americans didn't pick up the show, nor, as far as I know, did the U.K. channels. The reasons were the same. The American channels continued to believe that American kids like to watch only American based material, and have no interest in English literature. As far as the United Kingdom is concerned, the BBC and ITV thought they 'did' Dickens better than anyone, so why would they dream of buying an Australian show based on his material? A shame because I am a dual national, English/Australian. I was brought up at 'The Beeb,' and to my mind our show 'The Artful Dodger' was as good as any Dickensian television adaptation I had seen in England.

  In 1998 a very odd thing happened. I went to see a writer/director called Esben Storm with a view to playing a role in his forthcoming film 'Subterrano.' The tag-line for the movie was 'Evil lurks on every level.'

  It was pretty obvious I was too young for the role, which eventually went to one of Australia's stalwart actors, Chris Heywood. When Chris was cast, I forgot about the production until many months down the line I was telephoned by the producer, a nice man called Richard Becker of Becker Entertainment.

  He told me that the film was now finished and edited, but in his opinion it still lacked… something. I was curious. What did his film lack, I asked? He told me that he was very pleased with the bulk of the movie, but in his opinion it started too slowly and lacked a sense of danger right at the outset.

  Here is what Esban, the director, had in mind. 'Killers, revolutionaries, big business, God, romantic subterfuge, betrayal, bounty hunters, people trapped in a subterranean world, set upon by lethal, remote controlled toys. A game called Subterrano.'

  When I read that I thought, 'Whoooaaahhh. That's a big ask for a film. No way it's going to be 'The Day the Earth Stopped Still' nor even 'Blade Runner.'

  "So what do you have in mind, to make it…scarier?" I asked Richard.

  I heard him chuckle. "You can look dangerous and scary. I've seen it many times. You can just look at someone on screen, and the audience at once fears for him."

  I laughed. In a way bad guys who look dangerous were my forte.

  "So I'd like to shoot a new credit sequence, with you sitting in a limo looking really scary. Then the film starts."

  "Any dialogue? What do I say?" I asked.

  "Just a couple of words. You're just looking at a video screen in the limo, and you see your new video game. You think it's absolute shit, and this makes you angry. Very angry! Somewhere, someone is becoming very afraid. That's the idea."

  My 'scary' look in 'Subterrano.' Me? Scary?

  To cut to the chase, I went to work on a one-day re-shoot. It was a night shoot. I was dressed in black from head to toe, and had my hair slicked like a young 'Gordon Gekko.' I sat in a vast limo, staring at a huge video screen, which was of course blank - there was nothing to see. I squeezed a 'pup' – a small light – between my

  knees and held it tight, so the light would shine up into my face (like kids do at Halloween) and I did my best to look 'real scary.'

  A few hours later I went home. Richard Becker was pleased – he had his new opening. I was happy – I had a nice fee. Strange how things turn out, eh?

  GIBLET, FREDDY AND SOME OF MY WORST NIGHTMARES.

  That same year 'Giblet' moved into our house.

  A lovely tortoiseshell kitty, she lived a few doors down from us but visited most of the houses in the street scouting for nibbles. She's a very affectionate and somewhat greedy pussycat.

  We could see she was pregnant, so we made sure she had extra snacks whenever she wanted them.

  When she gave birth in our laundry basket, we felt obliged to take her home to where she lived, together with her five kittens. But within the hour she brought them all back to our garden, carrying them one by one in her mouth. How she managed to climb three garden walls I can't fathom. But she did. She's that kind of a cat – when she sets her mind on something she does it. She must have decided she was moving in with us. So, despite being taken home three times, she brought those kittens back each time. Eventually we no longer took her home. She stayed in the garden and we fed them all there.

  I recall saying to Wendy, "If you let that cat into the house, she'll never leave." Wendy says it was she who said this to me. Either way, someone opened the back door and she moved in. She was originally called 'Simba,' but as it was close to Christmas I renamed her Giblet because she was skinny. Believe me, she's a good weight now.

  She had three litters of kittens before we adopted her and 'hung up her gloves.' All the kittens found good homes
. Wendy called her last litter 'The Wobblies' because they staggered around a good deal.

  I was away on some shoot and she rang to ask how many kittens I'd like to adopt this time. We settled on one. The cutest – a

  marmalade kitten we named 'Freddy Kruger,' because he was forever going outdoors and then, on his return announcing very loudly 'I'm baaack!'

  Coco was approaching seventeen at the time. She attended the birth of the final litter, like a wonderful doggy midwife, and Giblet was happy to have a protector.

  As the kittens grew older, they'd jump onto Coco's back from a sofa and ride around the kitchen.

  Giblet kisses her son Freddy.

  ART AND BRAIN-SUCKING MONSTERS FROM OUTER

  SPACE.

  I've always loved painting, though I admit I tend to be derivative in my amateurish efforts. But, as with writing, it's creative as opposed to being essentially interpretative. I love Arthur Boyd's work - incidentally Boyd lived in one of the Adeane's cottages in Suffolk when James and I were children. Those painting were known as 'The Bawdsey Paintings.' I especially liked his dog pictures, so I painted a 'homage to Boyd' with a white Coco in a snowstorm.

  One evening after I'd been to a gallery in Paddington, I

  marveled at a Rosalie Gascoigne in a gallery window down Macleay Street. As I could hardly afford to buy one at a hundred and sixty thousand dollars a pop, I decided I'd make my own.

  Of course it's not the real thing, but it's the best I could do, and it makes me happy. It cost me two dollars in paint – the wood I found in a skip. People often ask me if I might part with my 'Gascoigne.' I always mutter, 'no.' My brother Dermot would, of course, have sold it on the spot.

  During the run of 'Wit' Sandra Bates allowed me to have an exhibition at the Ensemble. That was fun. No one bought anything. In a way I was relieved, as I didn't want to part with any of my canvasses. Maybe it says something about my work?

  My painting of Coco on Palm Beach.

  When Wendy and I moved from the Northern Beaches to the Eastern Suburbs we began going to all the gallery openings. There would be on average two a week and the art was usually interesting, the wine tasty, and at the more important galleries such as the Saville Gallery, there were chicken sandwiches. They were very tasty ones indeed.

  We made many good friends at the various galleries, and over the years a few gallery owners have asked me to launch their exhibitions. I always did my research so I wouldn't be talking rubbish to people who knew more about art than I did.

  The first time I opened an art show I was tempted to use an excerpt from a Peter Sellers record called 'The Critics.' It was a spoof that went something like: "Sensing the resurgence of the traditional stress is something that Bonstard had done, and is doing. He habitually used fragmentation of pigment to consummate his all prevailing sense of hermetic anarchy. It's as simple as that!" Of course I didn't follow through with this gag, but I wonder how many of the art devotees might have taken me seriously.

  Wendy and Charles Blackman, one of Australia's best known living

  painters.

  I later opened a show for the talented landscape painter Robert Klein Boonschate, and he very kindly gave me a canvas, which I love.

  On another occasion, our friend, gallery owner and painter Michael Commerford asked me to speak at the opening of an exhibition featuring the iconic pop artist Martin Sharp. An honour.

  Over the years Wendy and I have made a lot of friends in the art community, Linda Dry-Parker, her husband sculptor Stephen Glassboro, Scott McDougall, actor cum painter cum funny man Max Cullen and his gorgeous talented wife Margarita Georgiadis, seascape master Neil Taylor, the beautiful Maggie Ferguson (also a hugely accomplished violinist who accompanied Nigel Kennedy so brilliantly at his jam session at the Basement Club in Sydney!) our lovely neighbour sculptor Caroline Rothwell, Sophie Gralton (love her canvasses) and our old friend, sculptor Sally Lee.

  Margarita Georgiadis and Max Cullen at my 'Graphic' book launch. Max

  hosted it at the Commerford Gallery… and roasted me!

  Phew. Remembered them all… I hope.

  A couple of years ago our Austrian friend Florian Werner told us that he wanted to offer a painting prize to a worthy recipient in Australia. As well as being one of the leading hoteliers in Austria,

  weeks residency at his studio in Sankt Christoph, all expenses paid. He or she would work with Florian.

  We told him we'd be delighted to help. The 'Florian Werner Prize' is a dream prize for many reasons, not least of which is it includes food and accommodation at Florian's magnificent five star hotel, 'The Hospiz,' one that dates back to the fourteenth century. Daniela and Florian gave Wendy and me, as a wedding present when we were married at the Hotel Alter Goldener Berg, a week at the Hospiz. We'll never forget the hotel; the award-winning cuisine and wines were stunning. The one glitch was the bar bill − we went to town that week! Oy! And when the prizewinner is not painting, he or she can ski in one of the world's best ski regions, the Tyrol.

  Looking ridiculous the night I opened Martin Sharp's exhibition.

  I at once contacted John Bloomfield at the National Art School in Sydney and the prize was set up.It's a joy every year now to be invited to view the work of the final students and award Florian's prize. This year's winner, Sophie Cape, also won the John Ohlsen drawing prize, and is widely touted as the next 'big thing.' She's hugely talented, and was once on the Australian Olympic Ski team (we didn't know when we gave her the prize!) She's a good friend of another of our artist pals, one of Australia's finest young artists, the larger than life Luke Sciberras, who almost everyone finds 'curiously alluring.'

  The hugely talented Luke Scibberas.

  I loved being a part of the sci-fi series, 'Farscape.'

  Though never previously a sci-fi fan, the characters conjured up in these series were fabulous. I would have loved to play Wayne Pygram's role of Scorpius, but I was never in the mix at the casting. He turned out to look über-scary, so maybe it was all for the best. And had I played Scorpius I would never have been cast as the brain-sucking Karvock!

  Oddly enough, the role had been offered to another actor, Ivor Kants, but when he was told he'd need to have a complete head mask made, he bowed out. Well, it's a claustrophobic ordeal and I guess he couldn't face it. As for me, when I heard the news and was asked if a head mask would bother me, I replied, "You can encase me in lead for the day if it's necessary. Count me in!"

  Brain-sucking Karvock in 'Farscape.' Academy-Award winner Dave Elsey's brilliant work.

  Dave Elsey, Oscar winner in 2011, and the best creature designer in the history of the world, worked on my head for a day and came up with something much more spectacular than I had ever thought was possible. Forget the bleach-blonde locks of the old Hammer Films days; I now had the most terrifying head imaginable, some parts of it missing or oozing a mixture of puss and molten metal. And my hand was a miracle. It wasn't simply a hand, it had a spike that shot out before feeding time, and could be stabbed into the soft brain tissue of fair damsels such as 'Chaiana,' played by the gorgeous Gigi Edgley, to suck out the delicious soft tissue directly up my arm and into my stomach.

  Who wouldn't kill for a role such as this?

  The basic story concerns an astronaut called John Crichton,

  who is on an experimental space mission, and is accidentally hurled across the universe into the midst of an intergalactic conflict, and trapped among alien creatures wielding deadly technology, hunted by a merciless military race. One such alien was my character. Each morning I would spend four hours in the makeup chair having my head created by Dave. Then I would struggle into my costume and head for the set. Because you get so incredibly hot when your head is completely enclosed – you lose the majority of heat through one's head – I was given a vest to wear under my alien costume.