Holocaust 2000 - a dreadful film

When I was working in feature films, one movie I worked on was released as Holocaust 2000. It was a rip-off of The Omen-type films and had Kirk Douglas and Anthony Quayle in it. K. Douglas appeared to be slightly demented and describing his antics will be reserved for another blog in which I may dilate upon the behaviour of well known people with whom I have worked. However, it is my dear, departed friend Trevor Rutherford who was on the sound crew with me on Holocaust 2000 that is the subject of this next piece.

During a three week stay in Rome, while we were shooting a truly appalling film starring Kirk Douglas called Holocaust 2000, we had made friends with the Italian camera crew. Through their good offices we, that is Peter the mixer, David the boom operator and Susie, his wife, Trevor the sound camera operator and I, had gained temporary admittance to a very exclusive club, which had a pool and damn good food. So one weekend we decided to avail ourselves of this opportunity and trooped there, in a mob. As it was a beautifully warm day, we descended upon a table on the lawn and looked around us. We saw a wide selection of obviously very wealthy Italians, all tanned and fit, all wearing stylish clothes. It was as if we had entered the world of a very up market fashion catalogue and didn’t we stand out? While some of us were a trifle disconcerted at being like a band of pikeys having strayed into the Royal Enclosure at Ascot, Trevor and I, with English pride and certainty in our cultural superiority, took a perverse pleasure in being so down at heel. But while our reactions to being so out of place differed, our need for a good cup of tea was unanimous. Trevor was elected to go and get some, as he possessed least Italian but most front.

                   He was a little while returning, but eventually I spotted him. He had undergone a slight transformation during his absence. To underline his apartness from the sleek and wealthy Romans through which he picked his way, he had placed a knotted handkerchief upon his head and rolled up his trouser legs. While this was entirely suitable for Blackpool beach, the looks he was getting from the exquisites through whom he navigated his course with the occasional “’Scuse me, Thank you, Mind yer backs, Comin’ through” suggested that such a sight had never been seen here. I was helpless with laughter, Peter was wide eyed with amazement and David and Susie were covering their eyes.