The British film industry was in dire straits in the early 1980s.
From the late 1950s through the 1970s, between 90 and 120 films had been made each year; the average Briton watched 11 per year. Only 23 films were made in 1982, and average attendance was down to 0.4.
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| Former Beatle George Harrison, center, makes a fleeting appearance in Monty Python's Life of Brian, officially billed as "Mr. Papadopolous." |
“Rank and EMI famously said no,” recalls film journalist Terry Ilott, “to almost everything that was interesting.”
Rescue arrived from a completely unexpected direction. Indeed, said resurrection had begun a few years earlier.
Bill Jones, Kim Leggatt and Ben Timlett explore the 11-year reign of George Harrison’s HandMade Films in An Accidental Studio — available via Amazon and other streaming services — a thoroughly engaging documentary that charts this brief Renaissance in British cinema. The former Beatle became a hero in his native land, lauded for having “saved” the British film industry.
The saga is depicted via contemporary talking heads and archival interviews with scores of the major filmmakers and stars involved: Michael Caine, Richard E. Grant, Bob Hoskins, Neil Jordan, Cathy Tyson, Brenda Vaccaro and the entire Monty Python troupe, among many others. There’s also considerable footage of Harrison, revealing him as the most quietly relaxed mogul the industry ever produced.
(If this documentary kindles your curiosity, you’ll also want to read Robert Sellers’ equally delightful 2013 book, Very Naughty Boys: The Amazing True Story of HandMade Films.)
HandMade’s origin was as cheeky as its first project. Harrison had gotten to know Michael Palin, Terry Gilliam and the other Pythons; he considered them good friends. Following the success of 1975’s Monty Python and the Holy Grail, the gang secured a deal with EMI to make their next project, Monty Python’s Life of Brian. With locations scouted and pre-production underway, EMI severed the arrangement just as filming was about to begin.
(As the Pythons collectively recall, EMI’s chairman, Bernard Delfont, “finally read the script.” And was appalled.)
When Harrison learned what happened, he impulsively offered to finance the film himself. What he didn’t admit, until later, was that he mortgaged his home to do so. (“That,” Eric Idle quipped, “was the most anybody’s ever paid for a cinema ticket in history.”)
The gamble paid off; due in part to the controversy it ignited, Life of Brian was a massive hit … and, just like that, Harrison became a film producer. He and his business manager, American attorney Denis O’Brien, co-founded HandMade Films, named by Harrison after an old British paper mill. Famed rock percussionist Ray Cooper, shown in archival footage banging drums behind Elton John, was hired as creative director; he proved quite adept at it.
Gilliam created the cute company logo.
HandMade went three for three during the next two years. Their first distribution deal was for 1980’s The Long Good Friday, recognized today as one of the finest British gangster films ever made; it made Bob Hoskins a star, and similarly elevated co-star Helen Mirren.
Then Harrison and O’Brien were presented with a completely daft proposal by Gilliam and Palin.
(That was the thing, as several of this documentary’s participants recall: You could come up with the craziest idea, and Harrison would say yes … and then leave you alone. “If something’s really good,” he says, at one point, “it deserves to be made.”)
The resulting slice of cinematic lunacy, Time Bandits, spent four weeks as the No. 1 box office hit in the States, ultimately grossing $36 million in the U.S. and Canada alone, on a $5 million budget.
Harrison wrote and performed several songs for that fantasy, as he would do with other HandMade projects, over the next several years. Indeed, he loved that part of the business, and also popped up occasionally, in tiny uncredited roles.
When the informal relationship with the Pythons concluded, HandMade began to cast a wider net. Subsequent major releases included 1982’s The Missionary and 1984’s A Private Function, both with Palin and Maggie Smith; 1986’s Mona Lisa (another EMI cast-off), with Hoskins and Cathy Tyson; 1987’s Withnail and I, with Richard E. Grant (his film debut) and Paul McGann; and that same year’s The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, with Hoskins and Smith.
Unfortunately, 1987 also was the year that HandMade produced Shanghai Surprise, an infamous — and expensive — bomb with Sean Penn and Madonna. By this point, O’Brien was pulling HandMade into more of a corporate direction, and dictating his (terrible) artistic opinions over Harrison’s smaller, wiser approach; new projects — some of them made in the States — reflected poor judgment and performed dismally.
With the financial writing on the wall, HandMade ceased to exist after the release of 1990’s Nuns on the Run, starring Idle and Robbie Coltrane.
(This documentary fails to mention that Harrison subsequently sued O’Brien for $25 million, citing fraud and negligence, and ultimately won a $11.6 million judgment.)
That sad demise notwithstanding, everybody interviewed here looks back on their experiences with giddy enthusiasm; there’s a distinct sense that lunatics loved running this particular asylum. Harrison clearly was having a great time. Even some of the flops — such as Michael Caine’s starring turn in director Dick Clement’s Water — are recalled with rueful humor.
And there’s no question that HandMade invigorated the British film industry, paving the way for the many unusual, out-of-the-box projects subsequently made by freshly minted indie production companies. Ironically, such recognition came later; many of the above-mentioned films — most notoriously, A Private Function and Withnail and I — weren’t well regarded during their initial release. (Go figure.)
And all because George Harrison adored the Pythons.
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