I used to be positioned at one finish of the meadow. A helicopter hovered in the back of the timber on the different finish, looking forward to me to start out my stroll towards it. First of all, I couldn’t pay attention my cue because the group’s voices had been muffled by means of the timber. Even the playback, grew to become up as loud as conceivable, used to be nearly inaudible over the “clackety-clack” of the helicopter. After all, Marc Breaux used to be given a bullhorn, wherein he yelled, “GO, JULIE!”
I started my stroll, and as I did, the helicopter rose up and over its duvet. It got here at me sideways, taking a look quite like an enormous crab. A courageous cameraman named Paul Beeson used to be placing out of it, strapped precariously to the facet the place a door would had been, his ft resting at the runners underneath the craft. Strapped to him used to be the heavy digital camera apparatus. Because the helicopter drew nearer, I spun round with my palms open as though about to sing. All I needed to do used to be stroll, twirl, and take a breath. This required a number of takes, to make sure that each the helicopter and I hit our marks appropriately, the digital camera used to be in center of attention, there used to be no helicopter shadow, and that the whole thing timed out. As soon as the take used to be entire, the helicopter soared up and round me and returned to its unique place. At that time I’d run again to the tip of the sphere to start out in every single place once more, till Bob used to be glad that he had the easiest take.
The issue used to be that as I finished that spin and the helicopter lifted, the downdraft from the jet engine used to be so tough, it dashed me to the bottom. I’d haul myself up, spitting dust and grass and combing it off my get dressed, and trek again to my beginning place. Each and every time the helicopter encircled me, I used to be flattened once more.
I become increasingly aggravated—couldn’t they see what used to be taking place? I attempted to suggest for them to make a much broader circle round me. I may see the cameraman, the pilot, and our 2d unit director on board, however all I were given used to be a thumbs-up and a sign to do it once more. After all, the shot used to be deemed appropriate, and I used to be thankful to go back to my resort and take a protracted, sizzling tub.
Via this time, in large part because of the elements, we had been 3 weeks in the back of agenda, significantly over finances, and the studio had summoned the remainder of the solid again to L.A. We attempted to seize the following small phase of the tune for a number of days, however the relentless rain thwarted our makes an attempt all over again. Everyday, we waited for a destroy within the clouds, everybody chilly, damp, and longing to move house.
There used to be nonetheless somewhat a little bit left to shoot, as each and every small phase of the tune used to be its personal little scene. The brook, for instance, used to be in reality man-made, dug out by means of our group, coated with plastic and full of water, boulders, and ferns. Our host farmer misplaced persistence with us, claiming that the movie group’s presence used to be disrupting his cows’ milk manufacturing. In a single day, he took a pitchfork to the plastic lining and punctured it sufficient occasions that all of the water tired away. Bob used to be devastated—the 20th Century Fox bigwigs had been hounding him to wrap issues up, however they’d no concept of the hindrances that he used to be wrestling with.
After all, Bob promised the studio that if he didn’t get the final shot he used to be looking forward to, he’d wrap the corporate nevertheless and are available house the next day. Via some miracle, that afternoon the clouds parted for a short lived part hour, the solar got here out, and we were given our shot. Bob later mentioned that the ones consistent reducing cumuli set in opposition to the magnificent Alps gave the movie the drama and authenticity it wanted — one thing we couldn’t have accomplished another approach.
From the e-book “House Paintings” by means of Julie Andrews. Copyright © 2019 by means of Lacebark Leisure, Inc. Reprinted by means of permission of Hachette Books, New York, N.Y. All rights reserved.
Julie Andrews is an Oscar-winning actress whose movie credit come with “Mary Poppins,” “The Sound of Track” and “Victor Victoria.”
Emma Walton Hamilton, together with her mom, Andrews, has written greater than 30 books for youngsters and younger adults.
A Memoir of My Hollywood Years
Via Julie Andrews and Emma Walton Hamilton