About one thing, Peter was adamant: ‘A loan of the type that has to be repaid within twelve months, or whatever, is something I have no interest in. I have enough on my plate getting the film finished without having to worry about big debts…I realise that the whole financial aspect of producing a feature film is something I am going to have to face up to at some stage, with legal agreements, copyrights and everything else involved sorted out, but I want to shield myself from that side of things as much as possible until we have completed filming. It is far more important for me to concentrate on next Sunday’s camera angles, with as few distractions as possible.’
A detailed synopsis of the ‘Plot – Part One (filmed)’ ran to five pages while ‘Part Two (unfilmed)’ took up six pages, which really ought to have suggested that the action described was likely to run for somewhat longer than the promised thirty-five minutes! The action-packed conclusion of the film featured Giles making a crazy thrill-ride escape down the gully of a stream (inspired by a scene in Romancing the Stone), an elaborate sequence involving an alien spaceship, a flying ‘chair type thing’, and an encounter with a ‘vaguely humanoid creature’ that would have been brought to life with stop-frame animation. Called ‘the feared Troppe Marcher of Om’, it was described as ‘standing there, all seven feet and pointy teeth’! The dénouement saw Giles defeating the Troppe Marcher, destroying the aliens and their spacecraft and concluded with the revelation that even though he lost his job (having failed to collect sufficient charity
The vomit drinking scene. I had somebody help me mix the green gloop, which I’d prepared with food colouring, yoghurt and diced vegetables. I remember taking a look at it and suggesting to somebody it needed thickening up. Unbeknownst to me, they went into the garden and added handfuls of dirt – unbeknownst to them, I needed it to be consumed by our hungry aliens, so they all ended up drinking something similar to thick green mud. I had no idea why people complained about the horrible taste!
donations) ‘AT LEAST HE HAD THE SATISFACTION OF KNOWING THAT HE HAD SAVED THE WORLD.’
‘Well that’s it!’ wrote Peter. ‘Can we do it? Yes, there is nothing there that I have not got figured out.’ However bizarre this application must read, its author sounded supremely confident and disarmingly candid:
‘I think I’ve summed the whole thing up fairly well. I’ve been honest and not tried to pretend we’re something we’re not. If you decide to support us you must realise that you’re dealing with amateur film-makers that do not fit into the standard guidelines and film production methods established in this country. I have not made any wild claims or boasts about the film’s prospects. Just how successful we have been…will be over to you to decide when you view the video.’
There was a ‘Last Word’, anticipating and answering any potential criticisms of Giles’ Big Day: ‘One subject I would like to touch upon is the question of “Is it culture?” Yes, it is. Cinema is an art form, and art is culture. I will get rather angry if people get on their high horse when this film comes out and moan about it not being a proper New Zealand Film, or that we “shouldn’t make these types of films here”. I’m a New Zealander and proud of it. I have every right to make whatever film I please and it is just as much a New Zealand Film as anyone else’s. If I like horror films then I’ll make horror films. If anyone objects then they should get off their bum and make their own film.’
‘I’ve just about typed myself dry…’ Peter concluded, but there was no doubting his conviction and commitment: ‘If you decide that you cannot support us the film will still be made. I will stay at work and continue to film in my spare time. I’ve committed far too much money to it, to back down now. The production of a feature film in your spare time is, as you can imagine, a mammoth undertaking especially while working full-time in another job that is also full of its own pressures and deadlines. I have said with pride many times that we’re making a movie “with no help from anyone,” but now the pressure is beginning to tell, and I’m worried that the quality of the film will suffer. And that would be the greatest pity of all.’
The six weeks Peter waited for a reply from the Film Commission must have seemed interminable. When it came it was disappointing. ‘We very much admire your enthusiasm, energy and dedication…’ wrote Jim Booth, ‘But (and it is a big “but”), we do not think that we can assist you financially with this project. In the end, neither the film as shot, or the effects, are up to the standard which would see the Commission obtain a return on its investment.’
Peter’s initial response seems to have been one of disillusionment. He wanted to know what, precisely, was wrong with the way in which the film had been shot – and was, not surprisingly, wounded by the slur on the quality of his precious special effects. Unable to bring himself to speak with Jim Booth in person – ‘He assumed the role of my nemesis and I was too scared to speak with him’ – Peter delegated Ken Hammon to make a telephone call to the Film Commission in order to get a more detailed critique. Three weeks later, Peter was ready to reply…
I realise now, looking back, that my stubbornness was evident even then, because I kept right on shooting my movie and bombarded Jim with another seven-page diatribe telling him how stupid the Film Commission were to have turned me down!
It was, actually, an eight-page diatribe! It began innocuously: ‘Thanks for your letter and the consideration that you obviously gave our proposal. As you can imagine, an air of disappointment was wafting about for a while, but it soon passed.’ Peter was also careful to keep open future lines of communication: ‘We are going to need plenty of help from the Film Commission in the next year, in terms of advice and information…’ (No mention, wisely, of money) ‘…so we would certainly like to keep you up to date with the project.’ Peter then added a defiant declaration of his intention to see the project through to completion: ‘After all, it will one day stand as a “New Zealand Feature”’.
Then the lecture began! Peter tackled Jim Booth’s reservations about the quality of the film. Giles’ Big Day, Peter said, was not intended to compete with Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon but with movies such as Fiend and Deadly Spawn: ‘Our sole aim…has been to produce an addition to the ever-growing range of zero-budget, schlock gore video tapes, proven video favourites worldwide… I’m not claiming our film to be the greatest thing since sliced bread, but I do think it will at least “stand out from the bunch”. It has pace that few of these films can match, good intelligent humour and the New Zealand locations give it a fresh look [that is] well away from American suburbia or log cabins.’
With every paragraph pounded out on the typewriter, Peter revealed his wide-ranging knowledge of cinema (his examples are of both Hollywood and New Zealand films) and his intimate understanding of a specific film genre that he clearly thought was unknown territory to Mr Booth of the Film Commission:
‘A film like Kramer vs. Kramer or Smash Palace must perform on many levels to succeed. The script must be excellent, the acting of a very high standard, the photography and sound completely professional. The stern gaze of the critics and public are on the film. If the acting is poor, or the direction sloppy, the whole thing falls apart and the film becomes a bit of a joke. With our type of horror gore film none of this really matters because the film is already a joke. Nobody takes them seriously, nor are they meant to. When I make this film, I’m saying to the audience: “Look, you know this is rubbish, and I know this is rubbish, so let’s just unhook our brains and enjoy ourselves. ” Of course, there are people who don’t see it like that, and they are either the people who hate horror films, or the critics who put the most pretentious or Freudian meanings to every scene…’
There followed a further two pages of close argument, drawing parallels with such movies as Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw