Day three of filming

Yesterday started in a Travelodge, somewhere near Wakefield. Despite being on the M1 and entirely lacking in breakfast facilities (other than the dreaded “breakfast box”) the place itself was a rather nice example of an English motel. My room was large. It had a lovely deep bath in it. We got in so late, however, that I didn’t get to take advantage of it. There’s nothing better after a shoot than being able to relax with a hot bath and a bit of TV.

From Wakefield, we travelled to Northern Leeds, where we had breakfast outside a little cafe before heading off to film our 23rd face, the youngstest in the film, a one-year-old lad called Harry. It’s rather surreal to think that he might show our film to his great grandchildren in 90 years time. Here’s a lad with his whole life ahead of him. What will he witness? Will humanity get its act together or will a cataclysmic event occur, brought about by our recidivist inability to learn?

From Leeds, we drove to Salford to a hugely Jewish district which, I was surprised to discover, was jam-packed with Charedi people. Hats. Ringlets. Peddle pushers. The works. Obviously, we’re all very used to seeing members of this particular community in Stamford Hill, Brooklyn and, of course, Israel, but there was something about the sight of them in a leafy Northern City suburb which rather surprised and delighted me.

It was here that we filmed a wonderful woman called Rochelle who was perhaps even more of a contradiction than the neighbourhood she lives in. Rochelle is a plain-talking, highly-witty Scouse woman, who also wears a sheitel and is ultra-orthodox enough not to shake a man’s hand on meeting him. What’s wonderful about her is that she’s really open and happy to discuss anything. You also get the impression that she wouldn’t make anyone feel unconformable if they held out a hand. I assume she’d either take it, or explain with a joke why she hadn’t. I took to her enormously. She’d asked her rabbi what she should say about being Jewish and simply been told, “just speak from your heart.”

We also filmed Rochelle’s two-year-old granddaughter, Amelia, who was suitably charming, if not a touch flibbertigibbet. Getting her to stay still was a little like trying to herd butterflies!

We drove across to the fancy suburbs of Western Manchester for the second half of the day, and faces twenty-five to thirty, which included an Austrian Kinder-Transportee/former dentist who has dedicated his retirement to reminding the Jewish community what an important role the Quakers played in saving Jewish lives during World War Two, and Joy Wolf, an indomitable charity campaigner who encourages young people to find their voices.

The day ended in Cheadle, with the deeply charming Debbie Hilton, a very close friend of Nathan’s from drama school. The plan had been to film her and both of her children, but her son had a melt down and that was the end of his involvement in the film. I’ve said all the way along on that I only want people involved who are keen to take part. I’m not interested in anyone feeling scared, angry or like they’re doing me a favour by taking part. Someone else will step in, and enjoy doing so.

Debbie sang beautifully and looked utterly luminous on screen. She confessed herself that her voice has got a little rusty of late, but you could tell what a quality instrument lies just beneath the surface. I hope she dusts it off and starts loving that side of her life again. It doesn’t matter where you sing. The important thing is that you SING. As loudly, as often and with as much joy as you can muster.

The journey home seemed to last forever. I didn’t try to rush. Andrei is a great companion and I decided to bore him silly by playing him the Brass and the Em albums, which he seemed to enjoy.
I came home to discover that one of my faces, an old gent called Eric, whom we were meant to be filming on Tuesday, has died. I only met him once. He was quiet, but charming and he had a lovely singing voice which I was excited about featuring in the film. We knew he was poorly, so we’d already started looking for a replacement, which makes me feel slightly less mercenary about replacing him. But it’s very sad. I guess if it does nothing else, making a film about the process of ageing is going to make you acutely aware of your own mortality, and your position almost half the way along the timeline...