I Am C-3PO--The Inside Story Page 13

  The protective awning created a sort of micro-climate at ground level. It was quite cool, unless you stood in a clearing – there it was sunbathing time. The forest floor was centuries in the making, with decaying vegetation and creepers and ferns contributing to a beautiful, earthy nightmare for Threepio. They laid down floorboards whenever I was on the move. Not so for the poor stormtroopers.

  EXT. endor – GENERATOR BUNKER

  ACTION!

  “I say! Over here! Are you looking for me?”

  Stormtroopers were searching the area for rebels. Cued by my amplified voice from a loudspeaker hidden in the undergrowth next to me, the troopers turned in my direction, to see Threepio sticking himself out from behind a gigantic tree trunk. They ran to arrest him. It was scary, then scarier, as one fell over, then a second. The evil in me came to the fore. I turned the scene into a steeple-chase commentary.

  “And-Number-Two-Is-Down-But-Number-Six-Is-Coming-Up-On-The-Outside-And-As-He-Takes-A-Tumble-At-The-Fence-It-Is-Number-Twelve-Who-Sprints-For…” sort of thing.

  My breathless voice echoed around the forest. I had fun – and no one was hurt. But I wondered why stormtroopers were so clumsy. Picking up an abandoned helmet, I looked through the green plastic eyes. It was like looking through an empty wine bottle. It seemed that troopers could barely see at all. No wonder they were accident prone. It certainly explained why they never hit anyone with their blasters.

  The Props Department was ever inventive. But the net proved a challenge – and not only for me. Made of thick rope covered in latex, it was certainly robust enough to hold our group. We were indeed trapped by the crude resourcefulness of the surprisingly all-powerful Ewoks. But once we were all carefully hoisted aloft, it became clear that the camera could barely see us through the hessian mesh. We were ignominiously lowered to the forest floor again. We stood around like cargo waiting to be shipped but were soon winched back up, Props having cut out every alternate square of net, so our faces could peek out.

  But the odder thing was what had sprung the trap in the first place. I had time to study it later. The item that had so attracted Chewie’s hunger was actually animal. Well, part of an animal – the part at the rear. Days later, as I wandered the delights of the local town, with its grandiose title, I found a souvenir shop. In the window, something very similar to the Wookiee snack I’d seen on set. In a line, the upturned hind quarters of several small deer snarled at me. Their disembodied legs stuck up in the air, like elongated horns. A pair of plastic eyes stuck into the fur above. Below, a set of teeth – framing each sphincter. Deer walk afraid in Crescent City.

  Much as I did like the location, my main source of fun was sparring with Ralph Nelson – a highly-regarded stills cameraman. Back in 1976, I had enjoyed working with John Jay. He shot all the stills on A New Hope. One of his iconic snaps is of Artoo and Threepio, standing together outside the Homestead. Threepio on the left, my deck shoes clearly peeking out from underneath their gold plastic covers. On the right, Artoo with its legs forgetfully locked in position; the packing struts still screwed in place, having just been hoisted out of its travelling case. Between them on the sand – a cigarette butt. I liked John. He was a seasoned professional but perhaps, sometimes missed the details. He gave me pause during our last scene in the desert.

  “Why are you wearing a silver leg today?”

  He’d been shooting for two weeks and he’d never noticed George’s subtle hint at Threepio’s accident-prone history. Mind you, lots of other people missed it, too.

  Ralph was very respectful of John’s work but less respectful of me. Then I wasn’t respectful of him, either. I told him that anyone can take a photo. So he gave me one of his cameras in a soundproof box, a blimp, to try my hand at shooting stills. It was an action scene – the fight outside the bunker. I aimed but didn’t manage a single shot. It was harder than it looked. The actors kept moving.

  Ralph had a schoolboy’s sense of humour. His ability with a toy fart-maker was legendary in the world of hilariously cheap gags. But that wasn’t enough for him. One day he poured cold water down inside the leg of my costume, filling my shoe, knowing I couldn’t escape. So, when he was dozing on set, I had the FX crew quietly rig an explosive squib under his chair. The effect was rather satisfying. But I shouldn’t have done that.

  Years later, in a prequel, I had rehearsed a scene and walked past Ralph, back to my number one position. ILM’s Don Bies was now my super-skilled, trusted assistant, friend – encasing me in the costume and brilliantly driving Artoo. He was waiting to put my head inside Threepio’s. As usual, I closed my eyes as the two halves came together. I heard them clip into place and opened my eyes. Total darkness. Something had gone wrong. I couldn’t imagine what. I heard sniggering. Ralph had stuck gaffer tape over the eyeholes inside my mask. He let me out. Eventually. I’ll get him back one day.

  “What’s the red light behind me?”

  “Oh. You’d better stop.”

  I was driving back from dinner in town with my saviour from Empire days, Sid Ganis, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. The cop had been hiding behind a redwood. I was not pleased – especially since I was driving Lucasfilm’s Vice President. Would I go to jail and halt production? The company quietly paid my fine and that was the end. Shortly afterwards, some State Troopers visited the set. They said their colleague was a bit embarrassed at having booked See-Threepio for speeding. I toyed whether to send him an autographed photo. I decided not to. The message I considered writing might really have landed me in a cell.

  What a joy to see Warwick Davis under the trees. Eleven years old and really cute – as opposed to the other Ewoks, who were meant to be, but weren’t. Warwick’s mask was the only face that was actually animated, to some extent. It had been planned that several furry friends would have faces capable of expression. Time and budget ran out. So I spent days surrounded by the blank stares of the fur-fringed, goggle-eyed creatures. I felt as if I was in an animal version of Village of the Damned. Warwick did manage to get something through his costume. His tongue. He stuck it through the rubber lips of the mask and wiggled it – and with his new-found acting ability, it worked rather well.

  It wasn’t all work in this compelling landscape. A Sunday fishing trip was arranged for those of a sporting nature. I went anyway. Normally preferring to leave the capture of food to others, I was so glad I tagged along with the group. There were several boats with four or five of us aboard, forming a quirky armada as we were rowed up-river together. It was delightful. After a while, the guide hovered our boat in a spot he thought might be suitably thronged with fish. We cast our lines, plopping them rather noisily into the water. The ripples soon stilled and we sat there in peaceful contemplation. I didn’t really care if I caught anything. It was all so beautiful and calm. Nothing happened. We reeled in our empty lines and drifted to another prime spot in the gentle flowing waters. Our hooks once more vanished under the surface. We watched and waited, murmuring to each other, lest we scare off any fish below.

  VVVRRROOOMMM!

  Harrison careened around the bend in the river. His speedboat roared and swirled around our puny craft, as he laughingly waved greetings to us all. Then he was gone.

  The water sloshed and rocked against our boat and lapped to a stillness, the fish presumably fled for the day. It had been a surprise. Like a visitation from Harrison’s other action hero. But now, another surprise. My line was taut. The thrill of the hunt took over. I reeled it in. And there was a fish struggling away from me. I was surprisingly excited as I grabbed a net to scoop up the silvery beauty. The hook dislodged itself and my prize just rested in the net, already exhausted by the brief struggle. I made a decision and took a photo. Gently sliding the net back into the water, I let the fish float away. It lay very still. I felt bad. Then with a gentle flourish of its tail, it was gone. What a sense of relief. But now others in our group were hauling in li
nes. It was quite a catch – gleaming trophy fish that would provide a generous supper. I had to admit, mine had been something of a tiddler.

  EXT. ENDOR – FOREST – DENSE FOLIAGE

  ACTION!

  “It’s against my programming to impersonate a deity!”

  I loved the idea of Threepio becoming a god. A chance to get his own back, on one human in particular. We were back at the Ewok village at Elstree Studios. The giant set was raised high above the stage floor. Painted forest backdrops filled in the picture behind the prop trees. The camera could encompass the depth of the forest floor, helped by pumping dry ice into the area below. It gave a lovely, misty quality to the view. And the area didn’t go to waste. Out of sight, there were rows of chairs where off-duty Ewoks could relax. It was a few days before they realised that some of our furry friends were in danger of becoming a little too chilled out. Dry ice is the friendly term for a rather unfriendly substance, carbon dioxide. In solid form it’s so cold as to burn the skin. As it warms and becomes a gas, it changes the atmosphere, and not in a good way. The Ewoks were in danger of passing out due to lack of oxygen. They moved the chairs.

  Meanwhile, I had a throne. But I too felt slightly unsafe. I trusted the crew – but you never know. Wires, front and back, tensed and then winched me up to the studio rafters – the flies. A small length of tracking above, allowed the chair to travel in a circle, as I waved my arms in fear. It was partially real. I was genuinely glad when I landed.

  I’m often asked, what is my favourite line from the movies. Han had been bullying and dissing Threepio since their first meeting. Now, hung over a pile of firewood about to be ignited by an Ewok, the cocky young smuggler wondered what was happening. Threepio was always happy to provide information.

  EXT. Endor – EWOK VILLAGE SQUARE

  ACTION!

  “It appears, Captain Solo, that you are to be the main course for the banquet given in my honour.”

  You can read the satisfaction on Threepio’s face.

  I don’t wear the costume in rehearsal. Everyone can see my face and Threepio’s emotions writ very large on it. To get anything through the suit, my droid performance has to be slightly larger than life – Robot World rather than World Of Chekhov. In other words, it’s a form of overacting. Without the suit, it’s probably quite apparent. But there’s no point in rehearsing out of character.

  This being the third movie, I had evolved a little. Both as myself and as the droid. Still insecure that I looked and sounded foolish in rehearsal and equally so within the suit, I had to go on in my own way. I now knew what it took to create an effect through the costume; the can and cannots of wearing a suit like that. Still dependent on the script to give him opportunities for new and fresh expression, Threepio was Threepio was Threepio – not everyone’s cup of tea – but I liked him. So. Tough.

  His character is really an exaggeration of a human. Somehow the audience enjoys human emotions coming from a creature that is not actually flesh and blood. They become quite forgiving and empathetic. George’s script for A New Hope had firmly planted Threepio in my head. It was gloriously well-written and defined the basis of his character. I could absorb him. Once absorbed, a character can live in the actor’s mind, to the extent that many of its characteristics become instinctive. He was never going to be allowed to be a protagonist, someone who heroically moved the story forward. He would always be re- rather than pro-active. But that allowed the audience to empathise with him. His lot in life is, for the most part, like those of us ultimately watching him on screen. His overt sensitivity and nerves are the raw emotions that humans are taught to hide as they grow up.

  I had grown to admire his innate loyalty; a quality I admire in humans, so maybe I was able to relate and play it up a little. But unlike me, the poor creature has no sense of humour, which actually makes him quite funny to watch. He is the ultimate straight man. The fact that he finds human behaviour hard to understand is key to some of his anxieties. Humour and irony are essential to survive living on any planet I know. Without them, Threepio is indeed doomed to suffer.

  In spite of the overblown performance, I did need to give Threepio a sense of reality and truth. In his own way, he needs to seem, to feel, real. Then we all can believe in him. It was certainly a challenge from the start, especially relating with the ever-silent Artoo. Thank The Maker for those improv classes at drama school. Then, rather stupidly late, I realised that my stint as the sharp-witted Guildenstern had been a rehearsal for it all. His relationship to Stoppard’s more blunt, gung-ho creation, Rosencrantz, was like a mirror of the two droids. Gloriously bonded, interdependent in their unique characters, tempest-torn by events beyond their control. R was Artoo. G was Threepio.

  On top of the character play, I did have to continually consider the physical aspects of each scene. I needed to work around the restrictions of the suit, whether it was manual or visual. The hands couldn’t touch the face or head. That took away quite a range of human gestures. The head could only turn a few degrees in the neck. I had to fake eyelines to avoid peering downwards at Artoo or the Ewoks, which would have made Threepio seem like an old man. I wanted him to stand stoically upright. I only had so much to work with and it was my job to make the best of it. Which, for the most part, I did. With the occasional failing. However, I did rely on everyone else performing as in rehearsal. Which, for the most part, they did.

  It didn’t help that with all the clicks and squeaks of the costume echoed and amplified up inside the head, it was often hard to hear what the others were saying. Equally hard for them to hear my muffled tones, again deafening me from the inside.

  Even in unsuited rehearsal I stand like Threepio, with my arms spread like him – it helps the camera crew understand how much of my physical presence will fill the screen. I speak in his voice. It probably looks and sounds ridiculous without the mask. But it’s what I do to help me stay in character.

  Marquand had asked me to work it out for myself. So I spent the weekend rehearsing at home. How to mime the story of our adventure that Threepio was tasked with telling the Ewoks, so they would understand our plight and help our cause. Back in the village on Monday morning, I demonstrated my homework to the tiny audience. For this moment, I had written simple lines in English. Later, Ben Burtt and I would re-record the words in Ben’s cleverly constructed Ewokese. But for now, it was me delivering some fairly lame stuff.

  “Princess Leia put a message in Artoo because there was this really bad human – Darth Vader who built the Death Star. Then we met a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi who fought him with his glow stick. We were attacked by Walkers but Master Luke blew them up. And we flew to Cloud City in the Millennium Falcon…” and so on.

  Not Shakespeare. But a start. No good being embarrassed, I went at it full tilt. The Ewok faces gazed up at me with their scary dead eyes. But I caught Harrison’s rather disdainful stare from off camera. Clearly he was not impressed with my performance. But with Ben’s sound effects of walkers, X-wings and explosions, it became a much-loved scene. Not bad for a character who once apologised for being not very good at telling stories. Subconsciously, that look on Harrison’s face may have inspired one of my proudest moments.

  INT. ENDOR – CHIEF’S HUT – COUNCIL OF ELDERS

  Threepio is in conversation with one of the tribe.

  Han rudely taps him on the shoulder, interrupting. The droid turns and gets a peremptory demand, right in his face. He turns back and begins politely translating Han’s enquiry. It happens again. Threepio politely listens and turns back to his new little friend. Han taps once more – once too often.

  The irritated droid whips his head round, giving this ill-mannered human a furious stare. And another – his emotion clearly written on his golden face. The mask doesn’t change. The emotion does. The anger is right there. It took a little planning with my head and torso positions. But I think I managed to communicate Threepio’s true f
eelings.

  The torture room was a smaller challenge. How to show absolute horror as the child droid gets pulled apart. I realised that humans do a sort of tortoise thing when they’re afraid – hunching shoulders around the ears. I think Threepio’s horrified reaction is quite effective. Besides the actual drama, it was a strange scene to shoot. Marquand had his face in the script the whole time. He personally read-in the lines of the chief torturer. At the end of the shot he looked up and asked the cameraman if it was okay. I wasn’t sure whether he meant my performance or his. He liked performing. He liked dramatically posing for stills. But it was apparent that it was actually George who was directing – by proxy.

  I had my doubts about this new director from our first meeting. Sitting in his office at Elstree, I mentioned that I sometimes rewrote Threepio’s dialogue lines, with a view to improving them. He addressed me like a headmaster in a minor boarding school. He informed me that a scriptwriter had been paid a lot of money to write the words, so I should leave them alone. This man was no Kirsh. When I later saw Marquand’s previous effort, Eye of the Needle, I phoned lovely co-producer, Robert Watts, questioning if this was the right man for the job. It transpired that George seemed to agree with my assessment. He hadn’t planned to be on set for the entire shoot, having a plateful of other stuff to deal with. As he observed the first few days of the shoot, he changed his mind and became a significant presence on the set, although the stitching on his hat didn’t actually say “Director”.

  With the slightly confused focus about who was actually in charge, it seemed that Harrison was also taking a whip hand. It became a maxim on the shoot, that a close-up of Carrie ended up as a two-shot favouring Harrison. I always thought that he would make an excellent director. Too busy being an excellent actor, I suppose.

  Marquand seemed to enjoy scapegoating people.

  I was watching from the camera position on Jabba’s barge. After a couple of takes Marquand was vociferously rude about Billy Dee, wired onto the distant skiff.