by Zelie Bullen
As well as assisting me, Craig was working with the two young horses—the yearling and the two-year-old. I tried to explain to the horse department that we couldn’t have just one young horse of each age—what would we do if something happened after we had spent three months training it?
‘Like what?’ they asked.
‘Like it bangs its knee walking out of a stable,’ I said. ‘I don’t know—anything.’
When I finally got my message across, I was heavily reprimanded by the producers in an emergency meeting. They asked why it had taken me three weeks to bring this to anyone’s attention. It was then that the truth was revealed—that I had already been speaking out, but in hindsight, too passively.
The producers were scathing towards the men who had hired me. ‘So, OK, you guys don’t know about liberty training and you bring a liberty trainer from Australia. She arrives here and then you don’t listen to her?’
After that crisis meeting some lovely people were involved in trying to make it work, and some quick decisions were made. During that meeting, the producers asked me exactly what was needed and I told them we required three more trainers. After that it all virtually happened overnight. Craig was immediately officially bumped up from my assistant trainer to a second horse trainer. He had already been working as a horse trainer anyway, because we knew how much work was ahead of us and how much trouble we were in.
I then contacted Bobby Lovgren and Bill Lawrence, the two best liberty horse trainers I knew, and asked if they could come and join us. We were down to only seven weeks of pre-production by the time they arrived. Bobby brought with him from America his exceptional bay thoroughbred liberty horse, Finder, knowing he would be invaluable on such a movie. We were also supplied with some more horses to play Joey, which meant we had thirteen in all, including two younger horses and a couple of two-year-olds for the young Joey scenes.
We were a long way behind and it was tough going, but at least we now had a shot at producing the incredibly demanding sequences required for this film. We all pulled together and began intensive training.
CHAPTER 55
War horses
All of the horses on that movie—not just those playing Joey—had to be prepped before filming started. We trained them to be war horses, without of course the hardship that they would have had to deal with in a real war. They had to get used to alien things that would usually make them feel frightened, such as smoke, and the sound of bombs and gunfire.
The liberty horses playing Joey and the other main character horse, Topthorn, needed to feel secure while these things were going on around them—both for the welfare of those horses, and in order for them to be able to perform. Training animals to get used to those sorts of things is a gradual process. Some of the horses accept it quickly, especially the horses who already have experience on other movie sets.
We often trained the horses at night. We would lay them down in sand mixed with dark soil to resemble mud. It needed to look real but, just as importantly, we needed the horses to be comfortable and feel as safe as possible. They would not lie down and stay down if it was unpleasant, and we wouldn’t want them to. We didn’t subject them to anything louder than necessary—the loud noises can be added in post-production, once filming is complete.
They were trained in groups, so they had company, which helped them feel secure due to their herd instinct. We would put the quietest horses at the front and the most nervous or fidgety horses at the back, so the calm would radiate like a ripple effect through the mob.
We began the training for the war scenes with the help of the special effects department, who set up small puffs of air along the ground, so the horses became used to the noise and effect without becoming alarmed. They could then be moved closer to the animals at the trainer’s discretion. As the horses began to feel comfortable and realised they were not in danger, the special effects department then laid down small mortars, which consisted of a canister of compressed air covered by pieces of foam and garden peat.
When the small explosions were first let off, some of the horses took fright, jumping and snorting. But as they accepted there was no danger, we increased the size of the mortars and, when we felt they were ready for it, moved the horses closer to the explosions. We continued with this gradual process until the horses became completely desensitised—until they were yawning, resting a back leg and dozing off in spite of the noises, even with smoke surrounding them and peat and foam falling all about them. Once they know it doesn’t hurt and they’re not in danger, they are comfortable.
When you have a lot of horses galloping, or action among the bombs going off, the horses need to focus on what the trainer or rider is asking them to do. If it is a stunt horse and it’s galloping with two hundred other horses in a battle scene with bombs going off, the horses aren’t scared of the bombs—they are more focused on where all of the other horses are going and what is happening, which is normal herd instinct.
The scene in War Horse that people most often talk about is when Joey is trapped in the barbed wire. Of course, in reality he wasn’t. We had three horses trained to perform in that sequence, but we only ended up using two of them. One of the horses was the talented Finder, Bobby’s thoroughbred. Finder is the best liberty horse I have ever encountered, and it is his loyalty to Bobby—along with his supreme athleticism—that makes him unique. The other horse was a beautiful trusting Andalusian, Sueno, who was owned and well trained by the awesome Spanish stunt horse team.
For that scene, the special effects department made a plastic breakaway ‘barbed wire’ that looked real and yet had a very low breaking strain. It had perforated joins every metre so it would pull apart easily if the horse should ever resist or stand on it.
Preparing the animals for that sequence involved training them to kneel and lie down, and then getting them to look as though they were struggling. We would ask them to lie down and then to get up, but before they were completely up we would ask them to lie back down again, so it looked like they couldn’t get up. That entire heart-wrenching scene was trained behaviour.
People often ask how we make the animals act out emotions, for example the wide-eyed ‘scared’ look Finder has during the barbed-wire scene. This is where the trainer–animal bond is particularly critical. We had trained the horses to be comfortable with the ‘bombs’ and other war elements while they were on their feet, and we had also trained the Joey horses to appear to struggle to get up, but we saved putting the two elements together until the cameras rolled. When the horse was lying down he naturally felt more vulnerable, so he was aware of the sounds in a way he wasn’t when he was on his feet. This is another reason why we need to have so many liberty horses to play one character. If we ever feel a horse is starting to leave its comfort zone, then we can change to a different animal and remove, reassure, rest and relax the one who has just performed.
Because Finder trusted Bobby so much, he continued to work with him through all of those elements—the dark, the bombs, the noise, the mud, the harness and the fake barbed wire—knowing he could get up whenever he wanted to.
War Horse is one of the most challenging jobs I’ve ever done. It couldn’t have been accomplished without all of the trainers pulling together. At many times Bobby, Bill, Craig and I worked closely with the four Spanish stunt horse trainers—Ricardo Cruz, Hernan Ortiz Redondo, Eugenio ‘Salmon’ Alonso and Ricardo Cruz junior—who did a fantastic job with the stunt horses, the harness joeys, and the joeys who carried the actors. They are some of the best stunt trainers and horsemen that I have had the pleasure of working with.
Abraham was one of the first four horses we were given to train in England. A solid-boned, large-framed Warmblood from Holland, he had a real ‘leave me alone’ attitude and was the most difficult horse I have ever started to train at liberty. Although I could tell he was very intelligent, I found him obstinate and difficult to communicate with for the first few weeks of our time together.
His sen
sitivity and aloof attitude forced me to constantly reassess my approach to his training. Every day I had to draw on several different training techniques and past experiences, and once again I was so thankful to have Bobby by my side to offer his opinion and advice.
As time went on, Abraham began to soften, his walls dropped and trust developed. With a careful mix of kindness, patience and assertive boundaries, I was able to get through his tough exterior, and he began to express what a sweet gentle soul he is. I loved this animal and felt grateful to him for what he was able to teach me. He became affectionate towards me and we developed a real connection.
Time and time again, I called on Abraham to work closely with the actors. He was gentle with them and I was able to get a performance out of him that surprised me. Although there were times when I didn’t trust his thoughts or the look in his eye, he proceeded to prove to me just how kind he is.
One of the toughest sequences we had to film was a scene where Joey’s friend, Topthorn, who is lame, is being led up to replace a horse that had been trying to pull a huge cannon up a steep hill and had died of exhaustion. Joey knows Topthorn is injured and isn’t up to it, so he volunteers to take his place. This was all to be conveyed by a horse, so there was no dialogue of course—just his acting performance at liberty. Joey volunteers by breaking away from the soldier holding him and gallops up the steep incline; he rears, to get the attention of the soldiers and to show that he is healthy and able, and then he positions himself in the traces and waits patiently while he is harnessed up, before looking back down the hill as Topthorn is led away past the gun, back into the ranks of the horses following behind.
When we were filming, Abraham, playing Joey, couldn’t see me from his starting position at the base of the hill, so I had to call him up to me. He broke away from the soldier and galloped up a very steep muddy incline past the massive gun that the horses were pulling up the hill. He had to pull into position just before Topthorn was placed there. He could now see me and he stood and reared on command; then, as they harnessed him, I asked him to ‘look away’ as they led the lame horse back. We did all of that in one shot at liberty.
There were eighty horses in the background and it was a massive set-up. There were three cameras on that sequence, and they could see ‘the world’, as we call it on set—meaning they can shoot nearly everywhere. I had to position myself between two cameras and there was very little training space to work in. When we work the liberty horses, it can often be likened to a dance—we are using our body language to ask them to do one, or a series of things. So being in a confined position can inhibit the message you are trying to get through to the horse.
We began to film and then we had to cut, because I had stepped into frame—into B camera’s view. We filmed a second time and then I was told I was in A camera’s view. The third camera was filming tightly on Joey. It was frustrating as I wasn’t sure what my boundaries were, so the camera department drew a circle with some powdered chalk and, once they’d looked at the edge of shot for all of the cameras, drew a circle to show where I was allowed to be. When I looked at the circle they had drawn, I was pretty concerned, because it was less than a metre in diameter and I had a lot to convey to Abraham. But he did it and I was pleased to see that that particular sequence in the film looks great and accurately depicts the scene as described in the book. I was very proud of Abraham for working under those conditions.
When we were first contacted to work on War Horse I negotiated our wages at a slightly lower rate with the stipulation that, if Craig and I opted to, we could bring home up to two horses of our choice at the end of the job. I knew how attached I can get to the animals I work with and I knew in advance how much work and love goes into them during such intense times, when you can be spending every waking hour with them for extended periods.
It wasn’t until we began filming, when we’d been in the UK for about three months, that I began to know that Abraham would be coming home with us. It was a big decision—an expensive exercise with very real risks. Craig and I discussed it extensively—the fact that he was a gelding and therefore not suitable for breeding; the fact that he was a Warmblood, which is usually not my style of horse; the fact that he was too hot-headed for actors to ride, should we ever want to use him for future work at home. None of those valid reasons stopped my heart and poor Craig knew it. But in the end, it was not to be. As filming drew to a close, the man who owned Abraham refused to let him be a part of that agreement.
CHAPTER 56
Recipe for success
War Horse was a lot of mud, sleepless nights, cold and rain. All of that lovely rolling green English countryside is green for a reason—it rains. A lot. I have never owned wet weather clothing like I bought in England!
Working with Steven Spielberg is essentially like working for any director—you want to do the best job you can. Part of his recipe for success is sticking to the schedule. When we first saw the schedule, we had a bit of a chuckle to ourselves. We thought, ‘We’ll see. Wonder how long this shoot will run over.’ But I don’t think it went even one week over schedule. It was amazing how true to that schedule they stuck, and for that full credit goes to the first assistant director and co-producer Adam Somner.
Although we always want to do a good job and always want the director to be satisfied, as the animals’ custodians, trainers have the responsibility to protect the animals and to always ensure their working conditions are comfortable.
On film sets, situations often arise that are not ideal for animals. These situations can pop up at the last minute for any number of reasons, but largely because every department has its own complex series of jobs to do and, more often than not, most of the crew are not animal savvy. When problems arise, the professional thing for us to do is to approach the assistant director’s department and highlight any undesirable conditions or requests.
There are also times when we are asked to get a performance from an animal that is not practicable—for example, where the wind and smoke machines have been set up too close to the animals’ working area, or the electrical cables have been rolled out without leaving room for the horses to be brought onto set. When working on a high-demand set like one of Spielberg’s, the atmosphere can be tense, depending on what the demands are at any particular moment. It’s during these times that we feel the need to speak up. Sometimes we need to be able to suggest or offer an alternative animal behaviour or a different method of obtaining what we think the director wants.
Spielberg is a very personable man, though very tough. He and his team work quickly and efficiently. He is quietly spoken, and a man of few words, which at times made it difficult to understand exactly what it was he wanted. He sets a fast pace and is always very focused on what is going on in his mind, so there are limited opportunities to seek more information. Also, he was always surrounded by an entourage. As a professional, you don’t want to barge in, but I found that, when I needed to discuss something important with him, he was very approachable. They would be just about to roll and we would have to say, ‘I’m sorry, I just need some more clarification,’ or ‘Before we roll, can you please specify where you want the horse to look?’, and he was never irritated by the interruption or made us feel like idiots for asking.
When he thanked me at the end of the movie, he made me feel like solid gold. At the time, Craig and I were being sent off with Abraham and a second unit crew to another location, to take some photos and to film a live version of the War Horse paperback book cover. Abraham needed to look alert and majestic, with his mane blowing in the wind and the sun setting behind him, as the camera dollied in towards him. Now, every time I see that shot, on book covers or on movie posters, I miss Abraham and remember the last time I saw him.
It was the final day of shooting; the main unit was setting up for another shot. Knowing I might not see him again, I walked over to say goodbye and thank you to Adam Somner; it had been a pleasure and an honour to work with him. He insisted that we wai
t while they called Steven from his trailer.
When Steven arrived, Adam said, ‘Zelie has been waiting to say goodbye to you—she’s being sent off with the second unit.’
Spielberg said, ‘Zelie,’ and hugged me. He said in his soft gentle voice, ‘Thank you for all of your hard work. All of the love that you have put into your animals is on screen. It’s on my screen, and it will be there forever.’
It was a very special moment for me, a definite highlight of my career.
CHAPTER 57
Grand circus tour
War Horse was such an exhausting and emotional haul for me that I didn’t want to come straight home afterwards. I needed to go somewhere else for a while to wind down. I was completely drained from the politics and the stress; Craig and I both felt depleted.
As we were already in Europe, we decided to go on a tour. Mum was still with us in England then too, and I had always loved the idea of spending some time in Europe with her. I wanted to share her love for these countries, and I thought it would mean a lot to her if we all had this adventure together, especially now she had two generations to enjoy it with. The place I most wanted to go with Mum was Holland; she had told me so many things about this country she had come to love.
From the moment we left English soil, I felt relief. We bought a little car, loaded it up and set off on the ferry to Calais. We drove to Holland and caught up with an old friend we had met in South Africa when we were working there on Racing Stripes. The Van Gessel B&B had been our home away from home for six months; since then Jerry Van Gessel had moved back to Holland, and we loved staying with him again.