Wild animals can bite

Mr Phillips (Daniel Costello)

There is a famous saying in the film industry that one should never work with children or animals but I have never quite understood this nor indeed for that matter, agreed with it. Firstly animals who act don’t talk back to you so are unlikely to take you aside or as once happened to me, roar at the top of their voices in front of a roomful of other actors that you are a fool and have not the slightest idea of what you are doing. Animals are by and large very non-judgemental about your actions and will basically accept you for what you are. They don’t seem very keen about you trying to take their dinner from under their nose and I would discourage you from doing this especially with lions, wildebeest, crocodiles (although in this case you probably are the dinner) and anteaters that I have been told are much fiercer than they look.  Apart from that, they are in general very easy to please and quite pleasant to have around. Apart from Chickens, skunks and those large, very fast, very hairy, very black house spiders that are so abundant where I live.

Today we will be working with a catfish. As I walk into work and ponder the day ahead I hope that A – the catfish will like me and more importantly, B- that he will respect me. It’s only day 3 of the shoot and although things have gone quite smoothly so far and the crew greet me each day as though I’m still one of ‘them’ (well, sort of) there’s nothing like a sneering fish metaphorically slapping you in the face with a wet fin to change the tide of opinion from admiration to contempt.

I arrive on set. We are shooting in the bowels of a disused office block. The scene is with Dave’s dole officer Mr Philips played by the actor Daniel Costello. Mr Philips is a very strange man, the sort of man that no other person ever wants to be alone with so in this office the staff go everywhere in pairs for fear that they might encounter him alone on some quiet corridor where no-one will hear them scream. In my mind Mr Philips eats babies. Now, of course given that this is a comedy, none of those sorts of details are in the script, just in my head. There is a half hour hiatus with the costume department when I suddenly ask for a child’s garment to be hung up on Mr Philips hat stand. Just as we are about to shoot a fluffy baby blue cardigan is produced and take it’s place amongst the damp and dreary surrounds that is Mr Philips den. Mr Philips may like babies but he doesn’t eat their clothes.

The catfish seems impervious to all the hustle and bustle around him. Peter, the assistant art director is acting as gamekeeper. Tropical fish such as this are very delicate creatures and must be handled accordingly (or not at all preferably.) The catfish arrived at the location the previous evening so that his tank could be placed in position plenty of time in advance to acclimatise to its new surroundings. Thankfully Peter knows a lot about tropical fish cos the rest of us haven’t a clue and I suspect would be feeding it scraps of sausage if left to our own devices. Temperature control is very important so it’s all checked before the catfish is left alone for the night. We don’t want to arrive in the morning to find him floating stone dead at the top of the tank. I am reminded of my two goldfish Frank and Brian who suffered such a fate. Do goldfish ever have happy, long and fruitful lives? It seems not but I don’t think they have brains to speak of so that probably helps.

As the crew go about their business politely assuring me that of course I am not constantly in their way, I scrutinise the fish. It seems to me to be a pretty lonely existence living in a tank with not even one of those whirly wheels that hamsters seem to love for company. When I express this thought to Peter he regards me in a new light, not a good light and mutters something about fish being above all that. I shut up and look into the fish’s bug eyes. He doesn’t bat an eyelid and I realise that it will take much more than a sympathetic smile from me to gain his respect.

We set up the camera with the fish and tank in the foreground. Dave and Mr Philips run the scene. It’s a long dialogue scene and the actors are a mere blur as we have directed our focus onto the fish in the hope that he might do something interesting. The scene goes on and on yet the fish does nothing, nothing whatsoever. I begin to think that his unwillingness to perform is out of spite over my ignorance of his life. Maybe he overheard my earlier comment to Peter and has taken offence at being compared to a hamster. I will him on to do something, to blow a bubble, flick a whisker (yes, he has whiskers) anything. As the scene nears its conclusion it seems that all is lost. But suddenly, he rolls his eye. Right back into its socket and out again. It’s amazing. The scene ends and we cut the shot. I am ecstatic. The actors obviously think it’s over their performance which although was good had nothing of the spontaneity of the fish.

Being upstaged by a fish. Who’d have thought? Respect.