Scorsese’s Scottish Muse

Allan Hunter
Scotland on Sunday, 6 June 2004

Orson Welles claimed that learning the technical requirements of film-making was a relatively short and straightforward process, yet learning how best to deploy them to tell a story could take a lifetime. It is a view that Sandy Mackendrick would surely have endorsed. Martin Scorsese, too. In his introduction, the director declares the book to be invaluable. It’s hard to disagree.

Born in Boston but raised in Scotland, Mackendrick attended Glasgow School of Art. Later, he became one of the key figures during the halcyon days of Ealing Studios, responsible for enduring post-war British classics such as Whisky Galore!, The Man In The White Suit and The Ladykillers. Later still, he went to America and directed Sweet Smell of Success, a memorable study of the Corrosive nature of power, told with striking monochrome imagery, pungent dialogue and masterful performances from Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis.

In 1969, Mackendrick was close to realising his dream project of a film about Mary, Queen of Scots. Locations had been chosen. Pre-production had begun. Then, in the spring of that year, the film was shut down and abandoned by Universal Pictures. Shortly after, Mackendrick was offered a teaching position at the California Institute of Arts in Valencia. Tired of making deals instead of making films, Mackendrick, it is now clear, was weary of all the commercial pressures and endless disappointments that define the working life of a freelance film-maker. He chose the offer from CalArts and would become their first dean of film and video. He did not direct another film but taught there for almost 25 years until his death in 1993.

Sandy

Edited by Paul Cronin, Alexander Mackendrick’s book On Film-Making is an impressive attempt to set down in book form the lectures and notes that Mackendrick gave to successive generations of students, including directors James (Copland) Mangold and Terence Davies. Mackendrick belonged to a generation who believed “theories are fine, but practice is everything.” He doubted that film-making could be taught, but believed passionately that there were lessons to be learned from studying structure and theory and developing a healthy respect for discipline and hard work. The book is filled with page after page of wise advice and practical help for aspiring film makers, as Mackendrick attempts to demystify the film-making process and lead his students to the promised land with simple exercises, provocations and his own distinctive way of seeing the world.

Mackendrick comes across as a serious figure but one devoid of ego or vanity. He is much more likely to illustrate a point with reference to The Third Man or On The Waterfront than any of the films he made himself. There are very few anecdotes about his own working life and even a comparatively extended section on Sweet Smell of Success is used to reveal the development of structure, characterisation and pace. Unlike many of the modem screenwriting gurus who lecture around the world, Mackendrick has the voice of authority because he spent more than 20 years making top flight movies.

Mackendrick’s approach is so old- fashioned at times that it seems positively refreshing. He has little time for film-making as a means of self-expression or divine inspiration unless it is wedded to hard work. He cites Aristotle and Sophocles and encourages his students to follow the example of Mark Twain, whose prime rule for the art of writing was “apply seat of pants to chair.” He may not be a foul-mouthed bully like Gordon Ramsay, but he has the same ability to get the best from those around him and it often leaps off the page. “Don’t wait to get it right,” he tells them. “Just get it written.” There is an urgency to his lectures that must have sent students scurrying from the lecture hall eager to write a screenplay, watch a favourite movie through unfamiliar eyes or put celluloid through a camera and start creating a film of their own.

Most Scottish film-makers of the current generation made their mark with a short film, and Mackendrick would have heartily approved. “If you do not have the ability to control the dramatic structure of a scene of five to 10 minutes, it is doubtful whether you can structure a whole film effectively,” he observes. He also plastered his wall with slogans and ground rules that stand the test of time, including the belief that “Student films come in three sizes – too long, much too long and very much too long” and the notion that “Screenplays aren’t written – they’re re-written and re-written.” He urged potential directors to gain some competence in drawing, to attempt to acquire some experience as an actor and to pursue as broad a range of interests as possible. “Students whose only passion is film tend to be dull,” he pronounces.

Inevitably, in a collection like this, there is an element of repetition as Mackendrick emphasises important story-telling points of how to build tension, advance the narrative and use dramatic irony. The second section of the book, in which he examines film grammar, is really only likely to be of interest to aspiring film-makers and students.

Clear and concise, the book provides ample food for thought on such basic questions as “where does the director place the camera?” and “when should the director make a cut in the action?” It is not preoccupied with highfaluting notions on the nature of art, but crammed with common sense on the craft and practical issues of film-making. It is a book to inspire, but also a book to prompt regret that such a skilled and sensitive figure as Mackendrick stopped making films when he was just 55.

The world of film-making may appear to have changed beyond all recognition in the 50 years since Mackendrick made The Ladykillers, but if there was a young Scot with a desire to follow Mackendrick’s footsteps, they could have no better introduction to their chosen profession than this volume.

Waves poster