Vernon Fenwick. He’s a cameraman at Channel 6 – he’s April O’Neil’s cameraman – and Vernon is a character who is from the ‘Turtle’ mythology.
I never take credit for my movie’s success. I am the face of the movie, but there are numerous unsung heroes behind the scene. From the director, cameraman and editor to the light boy, everyone knows how difficult it is to satisfy the audience.
I don’t care what business it is. I have the greatest respect in the world for that guy that can take an engine apart of a car and put it back together, or the house painter that can paint a perfect line, or the cameraman who can shoot the best shot. We’re all talented in our own ways – just some of us make more money than others. That’s all.
There is the danger of over preparation, of loss of spontaneity; over rehearsal is the most terrible thing you can imagine. We do have a very close association between costume and set designer, though. And the cameraman is very important, of course.
My cameraman and I devised a method, which we started using from my second film, which applies mainly to day scenes shot in the studio, where we used bounced light instead of direct light. We agreed with this thing of four or five shadows following the actors is dreadful.
It is not always important that you have dialogues. How you present your role depends on the director and the cameraman; the actor also has few things to do.
My work is made on lines similar to those of a film production. A lot of my work is kind of bureaucratic, endlessly phoning up people, trying to find the cameraman and the lighting man, because I am a total technology-phobe, quite helpless with equipment.
I did a few documentaries as co-director and cameraman. I started off shooting a film about the war in Rhodesia. Then I did a film about an ‘around the world’ yacht race with a friend, and we spent nine months on a yacht. The film was about how people get on in confined spaces under extreme stress.
I did a few documentaries as co-director and cameraman. I started off shooting a film about the war in Rhodesia. Then I did a film about an ‘around the world’ yacht race with a friend, and we spent nine months on a yacht. The film was about how people get on in confined spaces under extreme stress.
Every film I’ve ever worked on, and that includes ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Trainspotting,’ I’ve always witnessed a director having a breakdown. Every director will have a day, without exception, where they just can’t do it anymore, they don’t know what to say to their cameraman, their cast. It’s the sign of real, physical exhaustion.
Abu Musab al-Suri is someone I got to know pretty well because he’s a Syrian. Very bright guy, lived in London. He actually was the person who took myself and correspondent Peter Arnett and the cameraman, Peter Juvenal, to interview bin Laden for his first TV interview.
Every film I’ve ever worked on, and that includes ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Trainspotting,’ I’ve always witnessed a director having a breakdown. Every director will have a day, without exception, where they just can’t do it anymore, they don’t know what to say to their cameraman, their cast. It’s the sign of real, physical exhaustion.
Abu Musab al-Suri is someone I got to know pretty well because he’s a Syrian. Very bright guy, lived in London. He actually was the person who took myself and correspondent Peter Arnett and the cameraman, Peter Juvenal, to interview bin Laden for his first TV interview.
Deep down, all directors feel like frauds – because it’s built into the nature of the job. You’re the jack of all trades and the master of none. The cameraman knows the camera, the sound man knows the sound equipment – and you? You can’t do anything: You can’t do the acting, you can’t dress the set, you don’t record the sound or shoot the images.
I can say, with a little arrogance, that I could be an actor, a cameraman, a writer, but composers are the most mysterious people.
I worked on ‘Blue Peter’ and ‘Tonight’ and lots of TV plays, filmed people like Rudolf Nureyev and Ted Heath, and ended up a senior cameraman with my own crew. I’d had my first short story published in 1947, and when my writing really started to take off I decided to go freelance, and eventually left the BBC in 1965.
As a cameraman, I was paid to stand within a few feet of Yehudi Menuhin performing. I saw Rudolph Nureyev dancing. I couldn’t believe I was being paid for that.
On ‘Catfish,’ I’m a co-host and onscreen cameraman, maybe the second onscreen cameraman after Wes Bentley’s turn in ‘American Beauty,’ which is funny and ironic. But before that, I’d been doing a lot of creative nonfiction.
I tried to get a job as a TV cameraman and they basically told me, ‘You’re mad, everyone wants these jobs – and if you go to England, you’re doubly mad.’ But I worked in abattoirs for 10 months to earn my money, then left for London. I didn’t even know what a director did.
When Iron Man’s flying, we’d send real planes up to do the choreography so that we’d get the camerawork to really look like a cameraman was following from another plane. It gives it that ‘Top Gun’ look.
We were on a fairway shooting a scene in ‘The Dogleg Murders’ when I was asked by the cameraman if it was safe to film from where he was standing. I said, ‘Yes, it’ll be fine.’ I then managed to slice the ball 90 degrees into the camera.
Having been a cameraman, I think about, ‘Well, if this was real, how would this be shot?’ I try to inject as much realism as much as possible.
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