by Brian Sibley
The film had continued to go through various ups and downs: there were precious film days lost due to bad weather and, for Peter, the frustration of having to compete with rival obligations on the part of some members of the team…
There was a social soccer club at the Evening Post and Terry Potter and Mike Minett, who were sporting guys, were members of the team. It was often the case that I couldn’t do any filming on a Sunday until the afternoon, because they’d be playing a match in the morning. That bloody soccer club was the bane of my life! I still remember one day, spent at Gear House, waiting for any of the guys to show up. I had the film gear, props and costumes. My parents dropped me off at 9.00am, and came back at 5.00pm to collect me. I was still sitting in the same spot. None of the guys had made it, and in the days before mobile phones I had no idea. I just sat there all day, waiting for anybody to show up, and no one did. I was almost in tears in the car driving home.
Various comings and goings, over the years, continued to ensure that the scenario for Bad Taste remained somewhat flexible. Terry Potter spent some time in Australia, but later returned to New Zealand and rejoined the project as, sometime during mid-1986, did the film’s original leading actor, Craig Smith, whose marriage had come to an end and who was now free of his dependency on alcohol, prescription drugs and religious convictions.
At the same time that Stephen Sinclair called me, we were welcoming Craig back into the Bad Taste team. His role as Giles had stayed in the film, although in an altered form, but he was game for anything. Here Cameron Chittock is strapping him into an alien costume.
‘When I decided to leave the team,’ says Craig, ‘the plan had been for Giles to die during the escape from Gear House and we filmed me being impaled on a tree branch. When, a year later, “the prodigal son” returned to the fold, the death scene was ditched – Peter cut away just before my impaling and Giles survived until the end of the film. I went back to doing all the jobs I had been doing previously, plus donning alien costumes from time to time – the only real change was that Giles was no longer the central character. I fitted back into the team as though I had never left and it’s a tribute to the boys that, even today, they don’t tease me about it and have made a point of never talking about it to anyone outside the group: it’s always been strictly between us – which shows what a very close-knit group we were and, in many ways, still are.’
In July 1986, following his chance encounter with Peter, Costa Botes arranged to view the Bad Taste footage on a Steenbeck film editor at the National Film Unit. Also present was the producer of Worzel Gummidge, Graham McLean, a former TV director whose credits included The Ray Bradbury Theatre, which had featured numerous moments of terror and suspense; he had also worked as an Assistant Director on a creditable New Zealand horror film, entitled The Scarecrow. Peter has never forgotten that day:
It was a little nerve-wracking…It was the very first time that anyone had seen anything from Bad Taste: I’d never screened it for the guys who were making it – I’d never even shown my parents – it wasn’t finished and it didn’t have an ending…
‘Peter arrived at the Film Unit,’ recalls Costa, ‘and produced a big roll of untidy looking film. We threw the reel onto the Steenbeck and sat and watched this extraordinary mishmash – at times quite brilliant, at times quite odd, but always kind of funny…I remember Graham’s response was a sort of astonished, “What the hell…?” The thing that struck me, however, was that, even though Peter was obviously struggling from a lack of resources, this guy was a very, very good film-maker with an amazing facility for putting together action sequences.’
Costa’s recollections of seeing this footage are significant, and a reminder to those who find it hard to make the link between Bad Taste and The Lord of the Rings, that film-making is, as Costa observes, as much about sensibility as it is about subject: ‘You often see amateur films that
My newly revised plot needed the addition of one new character, so Derek was born. I cast myself, having literally run out of friends who could help, and I licking my wounds after Craig left: I figured that at least I would always show up for filming each Sunday!
look amateur, play amateur and don’t go beyond the obvious. But Bad Taste is not like that and I could tell, even from the very early rough-cut, that it was clearly the work of a well-developed talent.
‘Above all, Peter’s sense of humour is what shines through. I only found out later that he was a great fan of silent comedy and of Buster Keaton in particular, and when you view Bad Taste with that in mind you can begin to join up the dots and see that you have a person who is very good with a camera creating comedy out of responsive materials. Peter will take a few bodies and a couple of props, set up a little bit of conflict, and come up with some really good jokes.’
At the end of the screening Costa and Graham McLean wanted to know what Peter was planning to do next: ‘Was he looking to finish it, we asked? Peter said that he was and then stammered out that he had tried to talk to the Film Commission, but they weren’t very interested. I just remember saying to him: “Then you’ve got to go back, you’ve got to actually show them this footage.”’
Fired by their advice, Peter decided to write another letter to the Commission’s Executive Director. Sue Rogers, partner of the late Jim Booth, remembers him talking about his continuing correspondence with the young Peter Jackson: ‘Jim always said that much of the credit for the fact that he finally backed Bad Taste was down to his assistant, Cindy Treadwell, who, whenever she brought a new Jackson missive into Jim’s office, would ask: “When are you going to do something to help this young man?” The fact that Cindy kept on at him encouraged him to encourage Peter.’
Ever since Peter’s riveting account of losing his central character and having to restructure the film previously known as Giles’ Big Day, Jim had tried to suggest (without making any absolute commitments) that the Film Commission door remained open to him: ‘I am very pleased to hear that you are still pushing on with the project,’ he wrote in one letter. ‘I hope you continue to do so and I look forward to seeing the film on the bench when you have an assembly.’ Another letter concluded: ‘I would like to say how much I admire your enthusiasm and dedication to the project and wish you all the best with its future development.’
It was now time for Peter to knock on that door one more time:
‘We have finally got all the early scenes of Bad Taste filmed and edited,’ he now wrote to Jim. ‘In a couple of months we will start shooting the climax…I’m fairly happy with the results we’ve got. I think the seventy-five minutes could be tightened up a bit…and there are a few changes I want to make, but I won’t go into it now. I’ll wait until you’ve seen it and we can have a chat…’
Peter casually mentioned having done ‘a few little special effects things’ for the Worzel Gummidge series and that he had screened the film for Graham McLean and Costa Botes: ‘The comments and advice they gave were very helpful. I think the most pleasing thing was the fact that they found the gore to be very funny, especially Costa, who seems to have the same dark sense of humour as I do…’ Peter ended by saying that he was now looking forward to screening the footage for Jim: ‘You’ve already seen about half of it on the video, however, so much has been changed or tightened up since then that I’m sure you’ll agree that it is much improved…’
That screening eventually took place on the afternoon of 7 August 1986:
I had my first appointment with Jim Booth in the screening-room. I’d had a two-year, somewhat antagonistic, relationship with him but we’d never actually met. When we did, of course, I found he was a really nice guy! I screened the footage and he said: ‘Ah, now I get it! Now, I see what you’re doing! Okay…Let me have a think about it…’
Jim Booth reported his views on Bad Taste to several of his colleagues at the Film Commission. Deputy Chairman (later Chairman) of the Commission, David Gascoigne recalls Jim’s enthusiasm for finding a way to help Peter, if only because,
unlike most aspiring film-makers who applied to the Film Commission for a grant, he had already demonstrated his initiative by starting to make the movie on his own. ‘Jim described what he had seen of the film,’ says David, ‘as being raw and rough, but also energetic, vibrant and, in an anarchic way, very funny. He knew, however, that several members of the board were conservatively inclined and unlikely to resonate with some of the images in the film.’
Another introduction via Costa was Stephen Sinclair. After meeting him and enlisting his help in painting sets for Bad Taste, Stephen called me out of the blue and pitched the idea of Braindead. He had developed it as a play but was keen to collaborate with me on a film. My world was suddenly becoming more interesting and exciting: it was a time I’d been dreaming about for fifteen years.
Indeed, Lindsay Shelton, the Commission’s then marketing director, remembers a general response from those to whom Jim described the plot of Bad Taste as being along the lines of ‘You must be joking! Are you seriously suggesting the Film Commission gets involved with this film?’ Another six weeks or so passed and Jim requested a further screening in order to get a report on whether the film could be technically released: ‘Our criterion for providing you with funds would be that we have some realistic chance of recouping that finance from sales.’ Jim also decided to get a second opinion, asking television producer and director, Tony Hiles, to assess Bad Taste’s commercial prospects.
Meanwhile, Costa Botes asked Peter if he could screen the film for a couple of friends who were scriptwriters. The screening was at a production office in Wellington where Costa was editing a short film of his own. When Peter arrived with his reel of Bad Taste under his arm, he was introduced to Costa’s friends: one was playwright, Stephen Sinclair, whose co-authored Ladies Night – about a bunch of unemployed guys who become strippers – had opened to considerable acclaim in 1987. Costa’s other friend was, at that time, Stephen’s partner. ‘I recognised her immediately,’ says Peter. ‘She was the girl with the long dark hair who I’d seen on the Worzel set.’
Fran remembers the impression Peter made on her when they finally met at the screening: ‘At first I thought he was Greek! Or perhaps Italian! He had sallow skin and dark hair. But his name was Jackson so he couldn’t be Greek or Italian! Frankly, I didn’t quite know what to make of him although I immediately took a liking to him: he was just a nice guy, a really nice, funny person; there wasn’t any pretence of any kind, no duplicity and no agendas.’
And what did Fran make of the film? ‘My first impression of Bad Taste was of its being completely uninhibited and unrestrained. True, it didn’t have any really usable sound – you could hardly hear what people were saying – but because it was such a visual piece it didn’t really matter! What was so extraordinary was that, despite having hardly any money, the guys hadn’t allowed that fact to stop them from doing what they wanted to do. That was really impressive and I couldn’t believe that it wasn’t getting supported by the industry.’
Recalling the screening, Costa says: ‘Fran and Stephen shared my own reaction to Bad Taste and to this lunatic fan-boy who had made
Through Costa, I met a great group of local film-makers and writers. I wasted no time in getting them to help me build and paint sets. That’s Fran Walsh in the middle, standing on the chair and wielding a paint brush.
Tony Hiles was wonderful at not only steering me through film-making politics but in rolling his sleeves up and getting stuck in. Here, he and Bryce Campbell ready a smokebelching miniature of Gear Homestead for take-off.
it. I think we all looked on him as a kind of lovely fool, a brilliant idiot, a uniquely talented savant who was capable of coming up with amazing ideas and images. But I have to be honest and say that I really had no inkling, at that point, that he would go on to create cinema with real maturity and depth. Not really. That only became obvious a little later…’
Bad Taste came a step closer to getting Film Commission support when, in September 1986, Tony Hiles submitted his assessment of Bad Taste to Jim Booth. Tony had met with Peter at an editing suite at a company called, appropriately, ‘Mr Chopper’, run by Jamie Selkirk who had worked on Worzel Gummidge and, years later, would pick up an Oscar for editing The Return of the King.
Tony’s first reaction to the film and the film-maker is interesting: ‘Something which impressed me was that whilst the film needed a lot of work, Peter understood that I required specific details and information and, unlike most new film-makers who usually talk too much over their film, he told me exactly – and only – what I needed to know.’
At the end of the screening Tony had decided that he was going to recommend Bad Taste and that he would offer to help produce the film. ‘I had to think carefully about whether to get involved in somebody else’s film, but Jim and I were good pals, and I was always interested in shaking the tree! Besides, how could you not choose to get involved with this crazy little film? I thought “The Boys” were great – I’d never seen such a loose pack of hopeless heroes in my life, but I really wanted to watch them on screen! Bad Taste was new, it was renegade…’
Tony would subsequently write, in defence of the project: ‘The rough-cut that I viewed and assessed was a fair reflection of a film-maker growing through the production process. Despite the shortcomings of the film itself, the story was there and, most important, there was a feeling of inventiveness and cinematographic understanding in Peter Jackson’s work. There were other reasons for my support for the film – it is a product of determination, humour and individualism – no formula stuff here, a thoroughly New Zealand film with strong appeal made by, potentially, a new feature director with a pleasantly nasty sense of humour.’
At the time of filing his assessment, Tony described Bad Taste in the following terms: ‘Potentially, this film could be the Ultimate Low-Budget A+ Splatter and Squelch Movie. So far it has been shot and cut with such an OTT sense of humour and style that it could become a steady earning cult movie – but work needs to be done and it will soon be time for a little professional supervision to move the product economically to completion.’
The ‘school report’ assessment of Peter that followed was particularly revealing for the picture it gives of him at the time: ‘I think Peter Jackson deserves encouragement for his determination and skills. He is a very good special fx maker and, in addition, displays good basic skills in camera operation and editing. Given the constraints under which he has been working, including a re-cut after the departure of his hero, he has already shown himself to be resourceful and dedicated…’
I built a steadicam camera mount using plans from a US home movie magazine, CineMagic. Like the crane, it was a point, shoot, hope for the best device, but ended up working quite well.
Comparing him to one of the success-stories of New Zealand film, Geoff Murphy (who would later serve as Peter’s second unit director on The Lord of the Rings), Tony Hiles described him as ‘one of those people who will make films whether he gets any help or not.’
He went on: ‘I find his attitude worth encouraging – he has plans to get into special effects for film and does not appear to have superbig ideas about himself – a refreshing change from the usual starryeyed tyro who thinks the world owes him a living, or at least enough money to make a film.’
The appraisal ended with a couple of caveats: ‘There is a lot of untangling to be done and it won’t be that quick – but I’m sure it’s worth the effort, especially initially, as this will allow us to find out enough about him to know whether it’s worth continuing.’ And on the subject of money: ‘I recommend that any Film Commission investment is stage by stage, drip-fed, keeping the project reasonably lean and hungry, otherwise it could go all over the place, just like the aliens’ brains…’
Tony Hiles’ evaluation was to prove the turning-point in Peter’s career: it reinforced Jim Booth’s impression and provided independent evidence that would help convince the board of the Film Commission when the time came to approve inves
tment in the film.
At the end of his report, Tony wrote: ‘I look forward to continued involvement with this Sheep-offal Saga.’ He had already warned Peter that the Commission might ask him to oversee the film’s progress to completion and when Jim Booth wrote to Peter, on 6 October 1986, with the news that the Film Commission was ‘now definitely interested in assisting you to complete the movie’, he added, along with requests for budgets, that the Commission wanted to appoint Tony as a consultant. In reply, Peter indicated that he was ‘very happy with the idea of working with Tony,’ although, as Tony pragmatically observes, ‘If I’d been a one-legged gorilla he’d have probably still said, “Yes!”’
In his letter to Peter, Jim Booth wrote: ‘Once again, I would like to congratulate you on your energy and the results obtained to date. A most commendable effort.’ Peter’s response was suitably expressive of his obvious gratitude:
‘Many thanks for the consideration that you have been giving to my movie over recent weeks. As you can imagine, I was delighted to receive your letter…I realise that my project doesn’t follow the normal pattern or accepted procedures, or whatever. The Film Commission’s support in spite of that makes me all the more grateful and, I should add, determined to produce something really worthwhile…
‘The next six months are going to be a great learning experience for me, far better than going to film school, and at the end of it we’ll have a finished film. I’m looking forward to all the learning, and I’m also looking forward to working within a set budget and schedule, a discipline I’ve never needed before.