John Hurt’s reel life in Lanka
A woman who would kill for love? Judi Bowker and John Hurt in one of the film’s climatic scenes (above) and (below) John Hurt. Pix courtesy Kendon Films
The death of Sir John Vincent Hurt, CBE, on January 25, caused an outpouring of grief and commendation for this British actor who was nominated twice for Academy Awards but unjustly never won. However, he was justifiably remembered in the In Memoriam section of the 2017 Oscars ceremony in Los Angeles. From “Earthman” to “Elephant Rock”, 41 years earlier, in 1976, an independent British feature film called East of Elephant Rock was made on location in Sri Lanka. It was directed by Don Boyd, one of a handful of bright young things of the time who, it was hoped, would breathe life into the moribund British film industry. In the event the film caused more controversy than generated takings at the box office. But the story behind the making of a film is often as interesting as the storyline of the film itself. So it is in this instance, more especially as there is a Sri Lankan connection. An account of the making of the film, “Bottom of Elephant Rock”, was published in The Sunday Times, March 3, 1996 – my first piece for the newspaper – so this John Hurt remembrance inevitably borrows from that article.
After the long haul of Lester James Peries’ The God King (1973), producer Manik Sandrasagra was possessed with the idea of turning Maggi Lidchi’s novel Earthman (1967) into a film, largely because it featured his revered Swami Gauribala (“German swami”). Lidchi, of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, wrote this impressive novel – “reading it, I was jealous of the author” confessed Henry Miller – about an English spiritual seeker who experienced “mystical crises and revelations” during a gruelling sojourn at Swami Gauribala’s ashram in Jaffna and at Sigiriya.
Manik convinced me to borrow £500 from my father so I could secure the option for the cinematic rights. He then persuaded Tissa Abeysekara to write a script – and what a fine one – that doesn’t feature in discussions about Tissa’s film career. Hardly surprising as I think I possess the only copy, the legacy of my father’s never repaid loan, for we were unable to raise production funds.
It was suggested I approach Don Boyd. “I don’t like it,” he said, tapping the script. “But I would like to make a film in Sri Lanka. How about this?” He passed me a supplement from a British Sunday newspaper containing an article on the true case of murder in Malaya on which Somerset Maugham had based his celebrated short story, “The Letter”. A play and a pair of films had been made of this tale, most notably the 1940 version directed by William Wyler.
The film opens with Bette Davis, spoiled wife of Herbert Marshall, emptying her revolver into a neighbouring planter on the steps of her bungalow. The rest of the film deals with the trial in which she would have succeeded in getting herself acquitted on the grounds that she was repulsing an attempted rape, but the dead man’s mistress produces a letter in Bette Davis’ character’s handwriting begging him to come to see her that fateful night.
“Well, it’s great melodrama. And Sri Lanka would provide ideal locations. But wouldn’t it be a bit derivative?” I ventured diplomatically. Boyd peered at me from behind thick spectacles. “It’s a true story. Maugham changed a few things. We could, too. In any case, his was a social drama set during the zenith of Empire. My film would be set in the dying months of Empire, with all its political tensions and personal consequences.”
He leaned across his desk. “Could you write a treatment and then a script based on your knowledge of Sri Lankan locations and production practicalities?” he asked. “Perhaps you could be the line producer as well,” he added, opening a cheque book. I had known him for barely half an hour. In an industry in which delay and evasion are the norm, his forthrightness was most definitely unconventional.
I spent the next few weeks writing a treatment with input by colleague James Atherton that brought the murder case closer to the real incident and was set against the underlying reality of a fictional colony in its death throes. My story opened with the assassination of the governor general, and concerned the attempts of a liberal civil servant to bring forward independence.
This civil servant becomes involved with a planter’s wife, but the liaison is discovered by the planter’s manager, who proceeds to blackmail them. However, the planter’s wife finds out that her lover has a local mistress in this unidentified British Far East colony, and shoots him dead. She is found guilty, but in the end is reprieved, along with the governor-general’s assassins.
Boyd wanted to change one aspect of my treatment, which, alas, brought the plot closer to that of “The Letter”: he felt it should be the mistress rather than the planter’s manager who should be the blackmailer, and that the target should be the planter rather than the civil servant. I decided – wisely as it turned out – to let Boyd write the script while I flew to Colombo to select locations and set up the production locally.
The cast and the production
Boyd cast the film, too. For the lead role of the civil servant he chose John Hurt, at that time relatively unknown, but who was progressively building a career, first in Fred Zimmerman’s A Man for All Seasons (1966). He then gained British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) Award nominations for his factual portrayals of Timothy Jones, wrongly accused of serial murder, in Richard Fleischer’s 10 Rillington Place (1971), and the gay raconteur Quentin Crisp in Jack Gold’s TV production The Naked Civil Servant (1975), for which he won the BAFTA, his first.
For East of Elephant Rock Hurt was paid the miserly sum of £5,000, but then the budget for this independent film was a mere £100,000: perhaps the exotic location swayed him. Such was Hurt’s rapid elevation to stardom that for his next film, Alan Parker’s Midnight Express (in which he wears a sarong acquired in Sri Lanka) his fee was £500,000.
Other main actors included the seasoned Jeremy Kemp, who had starred in such films as The Blue Max, Darling Lili and Pope Joan, who played the plantation manager. In contrast, Judi Bowker, the planter’s wife, was raw: her only previous film, admittedly in a leading role, was Franco Zefferelli’s Brother Sun, Sister Moon (1972). In addition, there was the excellent character actor, Christopher Cazenove, and Anton Rodgers, whose talent I much admired.
Finally, there was my old friend Tariq Yunus, born in Karachi but resident in London, who had acted in Joseph Losey’s Figures in a Landscape (1970) and Richard Fleischer’s Ashanti (1979). Tariq died in 1994 aged just 48. Anton Rodgers (2007), Christopher Cazenove (2010) and now John Hurt have joined him. Of the main cast only Jeremy Kemp and Judy Bowker survive.
I must add a British amateur to the supporting cast, Sam Poythress, who played the governor general, a cameo role he fulfilled superbly. He was head of the Imperial Lighthouse Service in Sri Lanka, making the final transfer to the Sri Lankan Navy many years after Independence.
Several Sri Lankans were chosen to play bit parts, such as JBL Gunasekera – “a forgotten face of Sinhala cinema” – in contrast Upali Attanayake, the “unforgettable” thespian, and Vajira Cabraal as John Hurt’s mistress, “Sharmani”. As will be revealed, the scenes involving the pair appear to have caught the interest of the immigration authorities in Apartheid South Africa in 1978.
Boyd’s schedule was so crowded he could afford only a lightning 48-hour location reconnaissance. Fortunately, most of the locations already earmarked were situated in and around Colombo. Elegant colonial houses in Horton Place, Queen’s Road and Anderson Road were used, along with the harbour, the Colombo Swimming Club, Galle Face Hotel, Fort Railway Station, Welikada Prison and sections of Pettah, Hulftsdorf, Dehiwala and Narahenpita.
Sir John Kotelawala’s residence at Ratmalana was chosen, and permission granted, as was Bevis Bawa’s “Brief” near Bentota. Many hill country locations were required, too. The task of visiting them in the limited time available was achieved by helicopter. In the space of a day locations were finalized at the Hill Club and racecourse in Nuwara Eliya, Hakgala Botanical Gardens, Haputale railway station, stretches of roadway and other scenic spots.
A number of Sri Lankans were employed in the film crew, most notably Errol Kelly, property master then, but now a major player in foreign film production in the island; Senaka de Silva as set dresser, now a major designer; and Raj Perera as second assistant director. All of them had worked with me on The God King, and I appreciated their professionalism.
Filming took place during a four-week period in April and May of 1976, just prior to the Non-Aligned Conference in Colombo when security was getting tight and we had to be mindful. Luckily, most of the cast were not of the Vivien Leigh/Peter Finch hell-raiser type, as witnessed on the production of Elephant Walk (1953). Chris Cazenove was accompanied by his then wife, the actress Angharad Rees – a beautiful and charming person – and they kept to themselves. The crusty Jeremy Kemp was not in the mood for much. Anton Rodgers was a gentleman to the core, and Judi Bowker was simply too young and too pure.
That left John Hurt and Tariq Yunus. Both were hell-raisers of sorts. And both bonded quickly with arrack. There were celebrations at the Swimming Club in particular, remembered recently on Facebook. But Hurt never disgraced himself. A thorough professional, he gave an excellent performance as the liberal post-war civil servant. Strangely, some of his finest scenes were monologues – his terse, exasperated Colonial Office reports dictated into a tape-recorder, such as:
“My duties as a first secretary have recently undergone a dramatic change. In spite of the obvious increase in local anti-British feelings, nobody in England understands the evident enthusiasm for independence here amongst the native population. What is even more surprising, the up-country plantation owners are also completely blind to the enormous racial tension. . .”
The score and more
Once the cast and crew were back in London post-production started almost immediately. The singer/songwriter Peter Skellern, whose “You’re a Lady” had been a worldwide hit, was contracted to compose the title theme, two songs and 40 minutes of score, part-reproduced on a single, the A Side consisting of “Put out the Flame” and the B Side, 1. “East of Elephant Rock” and 2. “Theme from ‘East of Elephant Rock’”. I can’t say I like his musical style but it was perfect for the film. And it crept into the nether region of the charts.
Soon after completion the film was selected for the 1976 London Film Festival. The programme notes pointed out: “All through the production there was a conscious stylistic discipline of creating a film to echo the moods and mannerisms of the heyday of big studios in the 1940s, and yet encompass a modern approach. This is not to say that it is not a genre movie; indeed much of its charm is derived from the fact that it is not easily categorized with other films being made today.”
Being independently produced, it took a year to find a distributor and then secure a release in January 1978 – at the brand-new four-screen Classic 1-2-3-4 on Oxford Street, closed in 1994 due to dwindling audiences. I invited Dimitri de Grunwald, the suave executive producer of The God King, to a screening. As the film ended and the lights came up, he turned to me and said, “I like it, especially John Hurt’s performance. He’s a future star. Except his finger nails were dirty!”
Two days before the film’s opening a production party was held at Walton’s restaurant in Chelsea. Featured was a special brew, “Concocted from a mixture of rum, pineapple juice, cream, egg white and grenadine, and said to be based on a recipe from Sri Lanka where the film was made,” reported one newspaper gossip column (although this appears to be an international drink).
“Elephant Rock”, as it was predictably named, “received a sadly cool reception from the stars,” continued the account. “Judi Bowker demurely sipped orange juice and confessed she never touched alcohol. A morose-looking Jeremy Kemp said he only drank wine. And John Hurt professed himself a spirits only man, adding that the only intoxicating drink to be had in Sri Lanka was a substance known as arrack.”
Many reviewers drew comparisons with “The Letter”; some even asked why Maugham had not been acknowledged, without realizing that the story was based on fact. TheSunday Times (of London of course!) was typical: “The story is said to be based on a treatment by Richard Boyle, with a screenplay by Don Boyd. Yet, around halfway through it began to look, to me at least, extraordinarily close to Somerset Maugham’s The Letter, or an anagram of it.”
Judi Bowker had been miscast; she was too innocent and limited for the role. So it was not surprising her performance came in for criticism. What was surprising was the severity. “Bowker looks about eight-years-old and as if she’s playing a dressing up game in her mother’s clothes. Not a woman who would kill for love. More a girl who’d take her knickers down for a bag of conkers,” declared Punch, which also featured a satirical cartoon of the cast.
“Judi Bowker has been encouraged to sound like a speak-your-weight-machine reading Jane Austen to an audience of three-year-olds,” quipped the Observer. (I guess the reviewer thought of such lines as “They don’t really like us anymore. They get very excited. I am frightened by them,” and “I suppose you are going to your rubber office place tomorrow?”) In similar vein the New Statesman claimed she “delivers her wretched lines as if by a series of carrier pigeons,” and the Evening Standard, “like someone reading the mid-morning story on the radio.”
Nevertheless, many reviewers found the performance of John Hurt creditable. And it seemed there were other redeeming features. “At least it is a film that cares to dare,” claimed the Daily Mail. Moreover, the Evening Standard asserted, “Whatever Don Boyd can’t do, he can involve you in a real sense of people and space; the small-timers of backwoods administration living it up in feudal style, clustering ever more tightly together at the cocktail parties for security. The present scenic glories and past mementoes of Empire in Ceylon give the film a perspiring sense of social authenticity.”
Stardom arrives
A year or so later, in 1978 – Hurt’s performance in Midnight Express having brought him international renown, Golden Globe and BAFTA Awards, also an Academy Award nomination – he was due to fly to Apartheid South Africa to work on Zulu Dawn but was refused a work permit. At first he thought it was due to his portrayal of Quentin Crisp in The Naked Civil Servant. Later he understood it was because he was seen in bed with his Asian mistress in East of Elephant Rock.
By not travelling to South Africa he landed a role in Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979) as astronaut Kane, a film far more suited to his talents – the victim of the notorious “chestburster” scene – for which he was BAFTA-nominated. In 1980 he won his second BAFTA, along with his second Academy Award nomination, for his remarkable portrayal of the deformed Joseph Merrick in David Lynch’s The Elephant Man. The 1980s produced a number of notable performances, including the rewriter of history, Winston Smith, in the adaptation of George Orwell’s classic, Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984), and Stephen Ward, a central figure in the British political turmoil created by the “Profumo affair”, in Scandal (1989).
His later films include the Harry Potter series (2001-2011), Iain Softley’s supernatural thriller The Skeleton Key (2005), James McTeigue’s “dystopian political thriller”, V for Vendetta (2006), Steven Spielberg’s Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008) and Alfred Alfredson’s Cold War thriller, based on the John le Carré novel Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011). His last film, scheduled to be released on November 24, is Darkest House, in which he plays former British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain.
John Hurt’s input to the art of film was such that he was honoured in 2012 with the Lifetime Achievement BAFTA Award in recognition of his “outstanding contribution to cinema” and in 2015 he was knighted for his services to drama.
In remembrance of not only John Hurt but also Tissa Abeysekara, Upali Attanayake, Christopher Cazenove, JBL Gunasekera, Angharad Rees, Anton Rogers, Manik Sandrasagra, Peter Skellern, and Tariq Yunus.