Love, Sweat and Tears

by Zelie Bullen

  On another day, when Marzena and I had no commitments, Sled picked us both up and took us to lunch. He teased us, about pretty much anything—he knew we were just two young kids out seeing the world.

  He drove us around all day, introducing us to people; it was such a treat for both of us. We went onto the set of Batman Forever, and I met the stunt doubles for both Batman and Robin.

  Marzena met Chris O’Donnell, who played Robin. She was horrified that I didn’t know who Chris O’Donnell was, but I told her that I thought the stunt guys were very cute—I was more interested in them than the actors. Sled also took us onto the set of Dr Quinn, Medicine Woman, a western drama TV series, where I met a bunch of horse people and wranglers and trainers.

  I told Jonathan about Sled’s offer to have me stay. At first Jonathan was wary and asked if I was sure. Did I think they seemed alright? Did I want him to call Sled? He was like a protective father. I told him he was welcome to do so, but I didn’t think he needed to as I felt safe. Jonathan accepted my decision. He had the production company change the departure date on my airline ticket; I could change my ticket again later if I wanted to. He also generously gave me five hundred dollars when we hugged goodbye.

  Sled picked me up after the end of the promotional tour for Ocean Girl, and he and Deanne looked after me very well over the next three weeks. I just wanted to spend time with them; and I was lucky, as I caught them in the right mood and at the right time, when they had time to spend with me.

  After my time with them, Heidi rang from the Gold Coast and said she was missing me. I told her I was heading for New York to visit a childhood friend, who had owned the patient horse ‘Princess’ from my childhood. I was taking the opportunity to explore a bit more of the US. Heidi decided to join me there and we later flew on to Dallas, Texas, in time for the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo. It was cowgirl heaven.

  We met and travelled with some wonderful cowboys and -girls, shopped for great western gear, and went to some of the world’s biggest rodeos, before Heidi had to return to Australia. I went back to Sled’s for the last few weeks before my three-month visa ran out.

  CHAPTER 16

  Movie stars and happiness

  I arrived back in Australia in 1995. I was now twenty-five, and I felt like a different person from the girl I’d been when I left. I had seen some of the world, and I’d briefly removed myself from the circle of grief. Sometimes in America it had seemed quite surreal—I would feel the depths of grief creeping in, but no one around me knew or understood what I was going through. So sometimes it was a scary place to be grieving and, as much as I could, I resisted falling into that state. But when I finally arrived home, I knew I still had stuff to work through.

  Wayne picked me up at Brisbane airport. I was happy to go back into Wayne’s world and work as a polo groom. It gave me an escape from the constant reminder of Grahame, although I missed many of my old friends from Movie World and the stunt world.

  A few months after my return I decided I wanted to get back into the film industry and resume stunt training, but I was reluctant to do so in and around the Gold Coast, where every corner held painful memories of Grahame and I training together. However, I kept picturing myself working on movie sets. I believe that by imagining certain possibilities, you can make them happen. As if on cue, a Sydney-based stunt agency asked me to train with them and offered to represent me. I enthusiastically accepted and became part of their team. On training trips to Sydney I would either stay with friends or would be accommodated by production or stunt teams I was working with.

  Wayne was very supportive and quite proud of me, I think, telling his polo mates that I was away on a movie somewhere, doubling some famous actress or being hit by a stunt car. Even though I wasn’t at Movie World anymore, I also felt very supported by the people I knew there.

  One of the films I worked on was Dark City, a sci-fi movie that has subsequently become a bit of a cult classic. I had my hair cut short and dyed dark red so I could double the lead actress, Jennifer Connelly. I was also the right height and build to have a prosthetic head, neck and shoulders attached to the top of my head for a scene in which one of the male actors is decapitated and then falls down the stairs. On days when I wasn’t in front of the camera, I worked in the rigging team. It became my job to fit harnesses to the actors so they could be attached to the flying cables and rigging equipment.

  This was my first experience of working with actors whom I had seen in other movies. It was fascinating for me to discover that William Hurt, Richard O’Brien and Keiffer Sutherland were nothing like the characters I had seen them play. I had teenage memories of watching Keiffer play a rugged cowboy in both Young Guns movies, and Richard had co-written The Rocky Horror Picture Show and played the quirky character Riff Raff. In my innocence I hadn’t realised how well they could act!

  Dark City involved three months of purely studio work at Sydney’s Fox Studios in the middle of winter. As much as I appreciated the whole experience, I hated not seeing the light of day. Since then I’ve turned down jobs like that, because I know what it will be like and I’d rather be outside riding horses, or falling off horses, or just working with animals in general.

  After Dark City, I worked on Bruce Beresford’s Paradise Road, a film about a group of women imprisoned in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp during World War II. There I doubled a few different actresses, including the lead, Glenn Close. It was a really fun movie because it was the first time I’d worked with an all-female stunt crew. We were beaten up by the Japanese guards, and we had to jump off ships and run through gunfire—I found it a lot more fun being outside, playing war, than cooped up in a studio.

  As a stunt performer, what you do physically can either make or break the shot; particularly if it’s a big set-up, there can be a lot of pressure on you. If you’re at the top of a waterfall and you have to fall down it, say, you know you’re going to ruin the shot if you start the drop unconvincingly or if you over-dramatise the descent.

  In Paradise Road, we had to react to being hit with fake bullets. Timing was crucial for a realistic image. The special-effects team would rig us with squibs—a small explosion that goes off under the clothing to look as if you’ve been hit. There was padding under the squibs to protect us, because they can burn skin and cause bruising. Stunt performers ‘pad up’ whenever possible; however, sometimes wardrobe doesn’t allow for this—for example, there was one time on a movie when I played a scantily clad prostitute who was beaten up and left bleeding on the bathroom floor.

  Wayne was the perfect person to see me through that time in my life. He was secure, relaxed and non-judgemental, and I could come and go as I needed to. We spoke regularly on the phone, but sometimes several weeks would go by between seeing each other. Occasionally, if I couldn’t get home to see him and the animals, he would catch a plane to wherever I was working and would enjoy his time hanging out on set with me. It was fun for both of us.

  People often ask what certain movie stars are like to work with. Some are beautiful and others can be spoilt brats; the knowledge that a brat is starring in it will often ruin a movie for me.

  One amazing actor I was glad I got to know was Kate Winslet. Lawrence Woodward, a stunt coordinator I had just worked with on The Matrix and some other productions, called me and told me he had a pretty good job coming up for me. I was to double Kate Winslet on the movie Holy Smoke, which was being filmed in outback South Australia. I said, ‘Great, who’s that?’

  Lawrence laughed and asked, ‘Did you see Titanic?’ As usual, I didn’t know who the famous actor was.

  I went down to South Australia in 1998 and had an unforgettable time; it was one of the nicest jobs I have ever worked on. Lawrence is one of my favourite Australian stunt coordinators and he’s a good friend as well. I respect his opinion and experience, and often call him for advice, with both financial queries and advice on the political issues that inevitably occur within our industry. He had put together a fantasti
c stunt crew for this job, and it was a terrific film crew as well.

  I have wonderful memories of the camaraderie within the stunt team and the rest of the film crew. We looked forward to work each day; the atmosphere and attitude on set was both productive and a lot of fun. The script was quirky and unpredictable, and it was relatively straightforward hazardous action work, there were no cables or explosions. When we weren’t doing something silly in a car or rolling down a hill, the stunt crew would go bushwalking or explore the dormant volcano near Hawker, a delightful South Australian town with lovely people.

  Kate Winslet is beautiful. I loved that she couldn’t care less about her weight—even though she wasn’t at all overweight, she was being criticised in the Hollywood tabloids. She said to me that, having found herself in the public eye and therefore held up as a role model for young girls, she felt proud about the fact that she wasn’t emaciated. I thought that was a pretty noble thing to say—maintaining a healthy weight and being a positive role model was far more important to her than what movie role she would get next. She was a good laugh, as was her co-star Harvey Keitel.

  The actors I know are those I have worked with. So, when I see them in any role, I associate them immediately with the personal memory I have of them. This is also the case with other work colleagues. It can be a strong association, positive or negative. Many in the film industry feel they can’t be choosy about the jobs they accept, but I want to enjoy what I’m doing, so I’m careful about who I work with. It’s so simple—money is important, but happiness more so.

  CHAPTER 17

  Connie

  With Wayne I saw a whole other world, which revolved around polo. I didn’t think it was a particularly honourable world, but I had a lot of fun for a while and I met some lovely people. Some individuals spent vast amounts of money on their establishments and it was incredibly hierarchical, which I didn’t like—the wealthy were on top and the grooms at the bottom. There also seemed to be a lot of non-horsey people wanting to get involved with that scene; they used the games as places for networking with the wealthy. Pretentious women would occasionally flirt openly with Wayne in front of me which I found revolting. The film industry can be like that as well, but I don’t think to the same extent.

  Fortunately, due to my stunt work, I didn’t spend a great deal of continuous time in the polo world. If movie work in Australia was slow, Sled would often ring at an opportune time and I’d head off to America and help him out. He was always welcoming, and a lot of fun, and I found the work I did with him truly fulfilling. I was enjoying the stunt work and the success I was achieving with it, but my real love was still working with animals.

  Sled was generous with his knowledge, and through him I met various people in the American film industry. I sometimes went to the Universal Studios theme park in LA with Sled’s older brother Jug, who was the horsemaster for their Wild West show. One day Jug showed me some photos of him trick riding. There were photos of him as a nine-year-old standing backwards on a galloping horse, photos of him Roman riding two horses at a time, one foot on each horse. In one photo he was Roman riding while jumping both horses over a car. He talked about riding as a child with Dick Griffith and his wife Connie, and I thought, ‘There’s that name again’—Heffo had also spoken about Connie.

  Dick had long since died, but Jug did some research and found out that Connie and her son, Tad, were trick riding in a nightly live show at the Excalibur Casino in Las Vegas. I was suddenly filled with a great urge to see them perform, so it looked like I was going to Las Vegas.

  I hired an old bomb of a car and headed off on the six-hour drive. I was a bit scared being by myself—I didn’t want to get run off the road and mugged by a lunatic. I knew that America, where many people have a gun under their sun visor or their seat, was different to Australia, and I’d been warned not to respond to any road rage—it wasn’t worth it.

  I made it to Vegas without incident and found a cheap hotel room. That night I turned up at the Excalibur Casino to see the King Arthur’s Tournament show, where Connie was performing. I had no idea what to expect and was nervous about how I would go about meeting her, but now that I was there I wasn’t about to beat a retreat. As it turned out, I was absolutely blown away by what I saw.

  I had never seen a live show like it before, there were trick riding, jousting, fight scenes, all acting out the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. At around the halfway mark, the trick riding commenced. In single file three women came galloping into the arena with fantastic energy. They each performed confidently, beginning their ‘run’ with a big smile, a clap or a wave. Then, before you knew it, one would flip upside down, hanging from the horse by one foot, her hands and hair dragging in the sand. Another would roll around to sit backwards on the horse’s neck; then with a quick flick she would bounce down onto the ground and vault back into the saddle. Another stood on the saddle, both arms stretched out above her head, body arched backwards in an almost superhuman position. I watched in awe as these women performed smooth gymnastic moves on their beautiful fast-running horses. I wasn’t sure which one was Connie, but I thought they were all incredible—what I had learnt with Heffo back on the Gold Coast suddenly looked simple and easy.

  At the end of the show, I told the door staff that I would like to meet one of the trick riders. They advised me to leave a message at reception and then they ushered me out the door. I was outside before I knew it and had no choice but to head back to my dingy hotel, thinking, ‘Damn it!’

  I came back the following night and bought another expensive show ticket, but this time I cased out the staff on each of the doors until I saw a friendly-looking face. At the end of the show, I went up and introduced myself to her. I exaggerated a bit and told her I was there to meet Connie Griffith, and that I thought she was expecting me. The girl finished ushering the crowd out and then went backstage to find Connie for me, but she returned with an apology that the trick riders had already left for the night.

  So I paid again for a third night, but this time I spoke to a different staff member before the show. I said I’d come all the way from Australia to meet Connie, and this time I said that I was pretty sure she knew I was coming. When the show finished, I rushed straight down to the front and the person I had been talking to said she would go and remind Connie. I stood nervously waiting, my heart pounding. What if Connie told the girl she wasn’t expecting anyone? What if she didn’t want to come out? What if she came out and told me off for lying about our meeting?

  Finally, Connie came out. She had a small frame and a brisk walk. The sweat on her face had smudged her show make-up. I saw now that she was in her fifties, and yet she was still performing the type of gymnastics on horseback that I didn’t know was humanly possible. I couldn’t believe I was suddenly meeting a real-life hero of mine.

  She said, ‘Hi, how can I help you?’ and I said, ‘I don’t know.’ I tried to gather my thoughts and told her I had met Jug Reynolds, whom she remembered. I then explained that I had heard so much about her, and that I had done some trick riding and would like to do more.

  At that point in my career I had no idea how exhausted you feel after a late night performance; she explained that she needed to go home and have a shower, but suggested I meet her at her ranch the following morning. She told me to visit about nine or ten in the morning as they rose quite late, and then gave me the address, saying she would see me out there.

  She certainly would. I think I danced all the way back to my horrible, smelly hotel room.

  The following morning I drove out to the ranch, arriving far too early. I sat out on the road in my car and waited for the clock to reach nine o’clock. Then I knocked on the door and Connie welcomed me in. We sat in the kitchen talking. There was a big pot of stew on the stove and she dished herself up a big bowl and ate it; then she dished up another big bowl and ate that too. I couldn’t believe that this tiny little woman had just eaten two big piles of stew for breakfast!r />
  She was chuffed that I’d come all that way to meet her, and now that she wasn’t so tired she was very warm. When I told her where I was staying, she was mortified. She insisted I go back that day, get my bags, and stay in her spare room before I was mugged.

  After my first night there, I woke up in the morning to a tink-tink-tink-tink sound. I opened the curtains to see Connie in a bikini top, jeans, chaps and boots shoeing a horse on the veranda, and I thought, ‘Who is this lady—Superwoman?’ I went out to join her; I didn’t say anything, but I thought she was the coolest lady in the world. I spent the day helping on the ranch, cleaning out the yards, filling up water troughs, plaiting manes. Together we washed a couple of horses. I had the world’s best day just being with her. We talked as we worked, and she said it was a shame her son Tad wasn’t there. She told me that he was a better trick rider than her, and I thought, ‘He must be something.’ He was away in Mexico doubling Antonio Banderas on the first Zorro movie, The Mask of Zorro. Connie told me that she rarely trained people to trick ride anymore—Tad had taken over as instructor. She suggested that I come back another time to meet him.

  But I had only been there two days when Connie got a phone call from Tad saying they had had so much rain in the area of Mexico where they were filming that the producers were sending everyone home for about ten days until it dried out. Tad and his girlfriend Wendy were leaving their horses in Mexico and coming home. Connie hung up the phone and smiled at me. She said, ‘You just got lucky.’