SATURDAY 13 MAY: Up 6 a.m. to cloudless sky. Walked to work. Jan tells me I have to go to Cannes - she was very clear about it. I'll regret it if I don't, even if it wrecks me.
Alan R., who has clepped himself Colonel Weathercover ('weather- cover' means interior scènes that are slated to be shot if the weather is not right for the scheduled exterior scènes) and spent days on end trying to amuse himself in the hotel, is in to work finally and looking a tad bewildered. 'I'm not as well as I would like to be,' he responded to my enquiry.
Greg very energetic this morning.
Morag: 'Nothing that a syringe of horse sedative won't cure.'
Overheard later:
Kate: 'Oh God, my knickers have gone up my arse.'
Alan: 'Ah. Feminine mystique strikes again.'
Sun went in and out all day so again we had to cover the scène in shine and cloud. Alan had a trying morning - trotting up, dismounting, tying up the bloody horse, dealing with his crop, taking his hat off and reverencing on the side of a hill. Horse kept moving around so its great black arse overwhelmed the shot. Deb Kaye lay on the grass, hissing at it,'Get back, you bastard' etc. Not Alan's happiest moment but he was splendid, charming and virile.
Lots of argument about Willoughby's arrival. Should it all be on a master (i.e. one shot only)? The crew want coverage. Ang thinks coverage is irrelevant. Should Willoughby help Marianne into the carriage, or Brandon, or both? Should Marianne say, 'Now I shall really be able to play for you, Willoughby' or is it too rude and should she address it to the whole group? In the meantime, Greg has to drive in a carriage with two horses, make them stop on a pre-arranged mark, hold them steady while acting and getting Kate into her seat and then move them off as if he did such things every day of his life. Also the horses have taken to letting off lengthy and noisome farts during the takes. Debbie says it's the Devon oats. Privately I decide to lay off the porridge. Deb's as embarrassed for the horses as if they were her own children.
Kate tells me her first note from Ang was, 'You'll get better.' I shrieked.
It's raining now. The weather reports are all contradictory and none describes with any accuracy the weather we've got. Greg and Kate in the high-flyer were a wonderful sight - genuinely transported with excite-ment. Probably because it's quite dangerous.
We've yet to pick up the beginning of the scène in cloud. Given up now and have come inside to do at least one set-up on the hair-cutting scène with Gemma (where Willoughby begs a lock of hair from Marianne). Sat chilled, looking at the swans and cormorants flying over the estuary. We've flattened all the grass on the lawn and it has to be fluffed up for the shot. Hilarity reigns. I feel tired and out of it and beg not to do the scène tonight. But we have to do the scène - schedule is biting. I play the scène tired and out of it. Ang likes it.
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