Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [248]
Terry G and I and Peter Willetts, the director, sat and watched it for over two hours. I’d hardly noticed that I’d spent over five hours in the Savoy, San Sebastian, and it was only lunchtime.
Willetts doesn’t see much chance of the big companies buying his film and I can see why not. It’s like Al Levinson’s books – honest, straight and with plenty of detail and interest, but very little commercial angle, very little to hit an audience with and make a reader/viewer see this film as opposed to 101 others.
Friday, September 16th
I am still resolved to begin the novel. Today I ‘firmed up’ my decision by ringing Jill F and asking her to keep me up to the mark.
I reckon I will allow myself three months – up till Christmas Day – to finish the work, and by that time there should be enough to tell me whether I can do it or not. Jill reckons I should aim to complete roughly 60,000 words by the end of November – just over two months – and leave December for edits or rewrites.
Monday, September 19th
A bad week for starting novels. Typewriter isn’t working properly and meetings every day for the next three days.
Today is the Shepperton board meeting. Drive down there for one o’clock. Remember that rather sickening day half a year ago when I stood, as now, in the outer room of Graham Ford’s office, only to hear that Superman had decided to go, and there was nothing else around.
Today it was different. A picture, Dominique,1 is starting a six-week shoot at the studio today and, even as I was staring at a Jabberwocky publicity photo of my bum pinned on the board with the words ‘One of our directors at work’ written in underneath, the door to Ford’s office opened and three men appeared. We all shook hands and nodded and with great relief I noted that they were bringing a picture in rather than taking it out. They were the advance guard for the new Pink Panther movie.
A third picture, Force iofrom Navarone, is almost certainly coming in to use H Stage (as Star Wars did), which, since its condemnation and sale to the council, is suddenly in demand [largely for its hangar-like size].
The bad news is still from Superman. Some £30,000 is owed altogether, which is not so serious. What is serious is a £150,000 deferment which, if they don’t pay, could hit us rather hard. They are being chased.
We look around the newly painted and refurbished dressing rooms and the editing room block. All look satisfactory. Good colour schemes and the rooms are inexpensively smart. But the big new heating programme (being financed by the Ramport deal) is not yet completed and today heating is off in much of the site.
But generally speaking an optimistic day and, walking down to the river at the end of the afternoon and looking out over the brackish pond where the Fishfinger family in Jabberwocky had their home, I couldn’t help feeling a deep, sentimental regard for Shepperton – not the sort of feelings one usually associates with a business – more like an old school or college!
Wednesday, September 21st
Today is Redwood/Signford day. Down to the studio for one o’clock and lunch with André, Bob Salmon2, Anne Henshaw (who Gilliam told me on Monday had split up with Michael, though I’ve heard no more) and Grace Henderson. A Kiplingesque name for a Kiplingesque lady, an oriental auditor, who effortlessly bandies international financial chit-chat with a beautiful eastern smile and an intimate knowledge of the English tax system.
We eat at Mon Plaisir in Monmouth Street, an unpretentious, small, cheerful, good quality French restaurant only yards from the studio.
Waiter in mid-service recognises me from ‘le moyen age’ – Jabberwocky. He says ‘Many people