(Sarah wrote this herself.)

Polley recalls trauma of Gilliam set

SARAH POLLEY
SPECIAL TO THE STAR

On Sept. 10, an article appeared in the Globe and Mail headlined
"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." It was about Terry Gilliam's latest
film Tideland, starring 10-year-old Canadian actress Jodelle Ferland.
It touched upon his past use of a Canadian child actress.

Globe writer Gayle MacDonald stated, "Filmmakers like Gilliam keep
coming to the Canadian talent trough for child actors because our
kids, by all accounts, tend to be easy to direct, manage, and mould.
Chalk it up to our easy-going, accommodating national character."

Or you could chalk it up to ACTRA's child-labour protections, which
are much weaker than American counterparts.

But there's a lot in that paragraph which makes me shudder. The
implication that our children being "managed and moulded" is a good
thing makes me very uncomfortable.

And then there's the fact that, 17 years ago, I was the first Canadian
little girl Gilliam used in a film. I'm always amazed when people
don't question the repercussions of children being managed and moulded
in an environment as perverse as a film set. The experience of working
on The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, in particular, was traumatic to
say the least.

When I first heard that Terry was shooting a film here with a Canadian
little girl, I immediately called ACTRA and asked them to keep a
special eye on Jodelle. I also sent Terry an email that I should have
sent a long time ago. What follows is the correspondence between us:

Hi there, Terry.

I hear you're making a film in Saskatchewan this summer. I hope you
have a great time — there are some great crew people you'll probably
be using from Winnipeg who got into making films because of you. (It's
actually pretty bizarre — I worked out there this winter and at least
five people told me that Baron Munchausen was the film that made them
choose to be in film.)

I guess I just wanted to touch base and share a few things about my
experience working on that movie. I know you'll be working with a
young girl and I realize we've never had a chance to talk about that
time — or I guess I mean I haven't communicated to you what my
experiences were, or how I remember them now, or how I feel they
affected me. I know you've heard varying reports (I can't remember who
told me that) and I realize that it's not really fair for me to not
communicate it all to you directly. Especially since the only people
who I hold responsible (and who, by definition were supposed to be
responsible) are my parents.

Basically, I remember being afraid a lot of the time. I felt
incredibly unsafe. I remember a couple of trips to the hospital after
being in freezing water for long periods of time, losing quite a bit
of my hearing for days at a time due to explosives, having my heart
monitored when one went off relatively close to me, etc. I remember
running through this long sort of corridor where explosives went off
every few feet, things were on fire, etc. I cried hysterically in my
dad's lap and begged him to make sure I wouldn't have to do it again,
but I did. I think I did it quite a few more times. I remember the
terrifying scene where we were in the boat and the horse jumped out
and ended up surfacing a plastic explosive that went off right under
my face. I remember being half trampled by a mob of extras and then
repeating the scene several times. I remember working very long hours.

I know I had some fun as well, but it's pretty much obliterated by the
sense of fear, and exhaustion, and of not being protected by the
adults around me. And again, the adults who should have been there to
protect me were my parents, not you. This, of course, took some time
to arrive at. I admit I was pretty furious at you for a lot of years.

What I went through is nothing compared to what many kids in the world
suffer. But it certainly was unusual for a middle-class kid in
Toronto, and it hardened and isolated me for many years, I think. It
also created a pretty substantial lack of trust in my parents (again,
not your fault, but a by-product of the experience).

This — contrary to how it may read — is not meant to be a guilt trip.
You were always fun and fascinating, and you gave me a ton of
confidence. You're a genius and it was a privilege (no matter what my
age) to watch you make a great film. I think that film was hell for
you, too, and you had enough responsibility just keeping it going
without having to be a parent to someone else's child. I believe that
you felt that if there was something that was particularly traumatic
to me, that my parents would have informed you and pulled the plug. Of
course, this is what should have happened on many occasions. I don't
think my parents were monsters, by any stretch of the imagination. I
do think, though, that you can't underestimate how in awe of you
people like them can be. I think they were so shocked and thrilled to
have their daughter in a Terry Gilliam movie that they couldn't see
past that. They didn't want to be an annoyance or an inconvenience to
anyone, and it must have been daunting to imagine holding up 100
people for your kid.

So here's my point: who knows whom you'll cast and what their parents
will be like. My suspicion is that you might need to be constantly
analyzing whether you would put your own 9-year-old in the positions
you'll be putting this kid in. Because it's entirely likely that the
child's own parents will be (for whatever reason) incapable of making
the right call. This is a huge responsibility but I'm starting to
think (from watching other kids and parents) that this is a
fundamental part of the job when you're working with kids who should
really be in school anyway.

Here's some unsolicited advice:

Try to keep a close eye on the mood of the kid, ask them a lot of
questions about how they're doing, if they want to stop doing what
they're doing, etc. if they seem uncomfortable, afraid, take it upon
yourself to make the call as to whether or not it's best to stop or
keep going.

If there are water scenes in this one — make sure it's warm!!!! If
there are explosions in this one — I really can't emphasize enough how
much better it would be if you could do reaction shots separate from
the explosions themselves. I still duck when a car door slams too
close or too loud.

I know it's probably a sucky way to shoot it — but it might save you
another email like this one.

Sorry for the babbling. I just realized I wasn't doing either of us
any favours by not letting you know this stuff. And I really think
you're a decent person so hearing this might have an impact without
being too alienating (I hope).

Good luck with the film. I know it'll be brilliant.

Sarah Polley

Sarah,

Ever since I started this Canadian project, your name has been at the
forefront of most of my Toronto conversations. Every potential crew
member I interview ends up including you in the chat. You are
ubiquitous. How many people get that adjective thrown at them?

I also hear you are about to direct your first film. Congratulations.
You've done brilliantly. You've continued to be a wonderful actress
and I'm certain you'll handle directing just as well.

As far as the scars of Munchausen go, I had no idea that they were
that deep. What always impressed me from my side of the camera was how
professional you were ... always prepared and willing to dive into
anything, no matter how difficult, that we organized (possibly that
should read, disorganized). In fact, I started taking for granted that
you could always be counted on, unlike some of the adults. You seemed
so focused, I had no idea you were having such a terrifying time.

For what it's worth, we were always concerned to make things safe for
you (you were too valuable to the production to allow anything to
happen to you). Although things might have seemed to be dangerous,
they weren't.

The only time events got close to trouble was when the horse jumped
from the boat. We all were terrified, however I knew that Angelo
Raguzzo was one of the most brilliant horsemen I had ever seen and
that he would make sure none of you in the boat were harmed.
Nevertheless, the explosion was a f--- up and I apologize.

One thing I'm curious about: Can you tell, when you see Sally in the
film, in which of the shots it's you ... and which ones are your double?

Do you remember that the shots of you in the boat were right at the
edge of the tank with stuntmen in the water next to the boat? I only
ask, not to minimize your bad memories, but to try to understand the
differences in the way you and I remember the events ... especially
since you were so young and impressionable and sensitive, and yet
seemed to be so wise and about 30 years old.

Luckily, for the girl in the film we are starting, there are no
physically dangerous or terrifying scenes. I grant you there are some
disturbing ones for adults, but I don't think so for her.

Like you, she is in every scene. It's her film. She's 9 years old and
has been acting since she was 4. Extraordinary! Luckily for her, I'm
much older now. And a lot more tired. Possibly a bit more wise, as
well. And I will take to heart your suggestions.

Thanks for making contact. Hopefully, next time I'm in Toronto we can
manage a dinner together. I'm curious to learn who you are now.

Terry

Thanks a lot for getting back to me. I do know in retrospect that many
things that terrified me were not as terrifying as they seemed then
(and I definitely remember that the boat was in a tank) — and I'm
pretty sure I know which shots were the double (specifically an
overhead shot where little Kiran [stunt double Kiran Shah] is running
like the graceless 35-year-old midget he was. I was pretty bitter
about this loping run being attributed to me in my girly teens).
However — it does raise a question of what I remember vs. what
happened. It's like this with photographs. Whole memories get built
around them, which is sometimes a reflection of a general sense of
things as they felt at the time, as opposed to what actually occurred.

So I'm willing to accept that my impressions may have been unlike what
an adult might have. I think that's sort of the point. It wasn't a
good environment for a kid because there were things that could easily
be interpreted as dangerous without actually being dangerous. I think
it's harder to make those distinctions as a child, and I didn't have a
lot of support in trying to make them. The really traumatic things
that happened are distinct memories that gave me nightmares well
before the film came out, so confusion between what the stunt double
was doing as opposed to me didn't really play into my bad memories, I
don't think.

I really appreciate you responding. I wasn't sure how you'd react. I
hope the film goes really well. I'd love to get together when you are
next in Toronto.

I've really appreciated this exchange.

Sarah

Postscript: At a film festival event a few weeks ago, I saw Terry for
the first time in 17 years. We had a friendly chat and spoke about
Jodelle. He said, "She had a great time, you could tell she really
loved it, she knows this is what she wants to do, and she was happy to
be there ..."

"Then again," he said, "I remember thinking the same thing about you
... that's why I was so surprised to get your emails." He looked confused.

It would have been difficult for anyone to see how unhappy I was at
the time. Like many kids, I was eager to please and good at adapting
to difficult situations, storing them away to unpack later. When it
came time to publicize The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, I spoke
glowingly of Terry and making the film.

In every interview I've read with Jodelle Ferland, she talks about
shooting Tideland as a very positive experience. Though she's still a
child, it's important to respect her impressions of her own film-set
experiences, as they stand now. Yet, based on my own experiences, I'm
curious about whether her impressions will change. Perhaps I'll drop
her a line in a decade or two to find out.



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