The Roman Empire Strikes back
Rome, the centre of the civilised world for the better part of half a millennia, and the one place I love and loathe to visit.
Producers have a scale of work places they love to joke about. When we meet together we draw up lists of the top three worst places we have ever filmed. Some people point to the problematic bureaucracy in India; others to the inordinate amount of "incentives' you have to pay in countries like Egypt. For me, the centre of my please-get-me-out-of-here universe is Italy.
I have a theory that the nation of Italy has been so significant for so long " it doesn't matter if you're talking art, architecture, politics, science or simply coffee " that the populace is simply burdened by its history. Everywhere you look, behind glass or by the side of the road, are objects that are hundreds and hundreds of years old. Before my country was little more than a twinkle in the eye of the British Empire, Italy was investigating, innovating and improving. All that effort has to drain someone somewhere. And that's how I explain the Italian government. It doesn't seem to matter what level I'm dealing with, whether it be the local police or a department in charge of filming permits, everything seems to involve an almost insurmountable effort. When it comes to official matters the reply always begins with, "Impossible!" " then we move on from there. You can imagine how exhausting that can be.
Anyway, the next stage of our filming took us to the city at the heart of this bureaucratic malaise " Rome. Our task was to film two or three locations in five days. It sounds simple, right? Read on"
We arrived safely at the main airport in Rome, only to discover that we had lost some baggage en route from Israel " to be precise, all of our baggage. All of our personal luggage, all of our camera equipment had simply effervesced. The upside of this was that it took remarkably little time to check into our hotel; the downside was explaining this problem to the Roma Film Commission. Our filming permits involved us beginning work the following day; our request was that they change the date of that filming to two days later to allow the airport time to locate our luggage. Sounds simple, doesn't it? But this was another sentence that began with, "Impossible!" What complicated matters further was the discovery that no-one at the office in charge of organising all international filming permits for the city of Rome spoke English. Thankfully, I majored in mime at university. An hour of energetic (but silent) complaining later and the "impossible' had finally become "possible'.
God was as gracious as ever and within 48 hours our luggage and our equipment were restored to us. Suitably armed and armoured, we set off for our first filming location, the magnificent piazza in front of St Peter's Basilica. The underground seemed to be the simplest way to transport our crew, so we dutifully bundled on to a peak-hour carriage. It was, however, with a certain degree of unreality that I looked out the window, watching the stations skip by, including the one where three men suddenly bundled my cameraman off the train and on to a waiting platform. It was a totally bizarre experience. When we finally reached our stop the rest of the crew were buzzing with theories. Were they hoodlums or were they law enforcement? Had he lost his ticket, or been mistaken as a potential terrorist bent on blowing up a peak-hour service? The latter seemed the least tenuous. Sure, he was carrying a big camera bag, but he was also a white-haired man in his fifties. Hardly the profile for an Alqaeda operative. But I was convinced I knew the truth. The Italian bureaucracy had somehow managed to claim its latest victim"
An hour later Mal, the cameraman, reappeared at the station. It appears that he had been the victim of a "potential' robbery. I say potential because he didn't witness any crime and nothing was stolen, but an undercover policeman was convinced that two men might have been preparing to steal his property. It seemed best to that officer to take everyone into custody and sort it out at the station. When Mal was finally set free we'd already lost the jump on our first filming day.
We proceeded quickly to St Peter's Square and got to work. But just as we were preparing for a our most significant piece, two policeman demanded to see our filming permit. At first I wasn't terribly worried because I had the appropriate piece of paper close to hand. I handed over the sheet lovingly prepared by the Vatican's own civil servants, expecting a quick return to work. Not so! I do not speak Italian, but the policeman quickly pointed out to me that the detailed permission did not contain any mention of dates, only the cryptic phrase agreeing to "" your nominated dates."
"Yes, our nominated date is today," I explained.
"But it doesn't say today," the first policeman replied, handing the form to his partner.
"But it must mean today " here's our application!"
"But it doesn't say, this date," replied Starsky.
"Yes, but it's got to be today " we haven't applied for any other day. What other day would it mean??"
"Yes, you have permission to film " just not today." Thanks Hutch.
And so I found myself in the least enviable position of the Christian producer " involved in guerrilla filming. It occurs every now and then when you know that you have done everything necessary to ensure your right to film, but find yourself on the wrong side of an obstinate bureaucrat. Ten minutes later, and the other side of a very large fountain, the job was done. Maybe location number two would be better?
The next day we set off for the Roman Forum, this time with a filming permission that clearly stated our right to film both at the location and on the date concerned. The crew and I boldly approached the entry, and when the gate-keepers stepped from their shelter to deny entry, I confidently handed over my form.
"Sorry, sir, you cannot film here."
"Er " why not?" I asked, more than a little taken back.
"This permit does not allow you to film in the forum."
"But it says I'm allowed to film the "Foro Romana' " the Roman Forum," I pointed out, perplexed, but pointing to the relevant passage.
"Yes, sir, it says you can film the forum, but not in the forum."
"But the forum is surrounded by buildings, there's no way to film the forum without being in the forum. What am I supposed to use, a helicopter?"
"To do that, sir, you will need a form from the federal authority; this is from the local government."
"Yes, it's the film permit that your Roma Film Commission gave me when I applied to film the forum " so how do I get one of these other forms? No, wait, let me guess, it's impossible, right?"
"Yes sir."
Thankfully our God is the God of the impossible and with the creative use of some viewing platforms and radio microphones, suggested by our sound recordist (who, interestingly is named A.Postle), we were able to get the material we needed with the useless permit.
It seems unfair to leave Italy without mentioning the great time we had their on our day off, or the fantastic family restaurant we visited almost every night because of the way the proprietors made us feel. But during those activities we were swimming with the current. After all, the Italians love to relax and few nations do it better. Professional duties are another matter"
Germany, by comparison, was a pleasure to work in " though the Italian airline we flew there did manage to lose another bag for a couple of days as a parting gift. There we met probably two of the most intelligent and encouraging men I have ever come across. Professors Martin Hengel and Peter Stuhlmacher are elderly, acknowledged experts in the history that surrounds and supports the New Testament. And they are just as clearly convicted Christians. I won't trouble you with all of the interesting things they had to say about the story of Jesus and how historically plausible it is; those details will, after all, appear in our eventual production. But it is enough to say that they are just the sort of men who have spent their lives proving what our hearts already tell us to be true. They are living proof that faith does not require you to check your brain at the door.
So, now I'm once again tapping away at a keyboard some ten kilometres above the ground. In a little over sixteen hours I will be landing in Sydney and looking for a place to post this blog. God has once again seen us through a trying time and taught me much about Himself in the process. But I'll be honest, my mind is elsewhere. All I have to look forward to over the coming hours is a series of bland airport lounges " which might be considered depressing except for the fact that they are finite in number and all that stand between me and my family. Where everyone else sees a depressingly cramped seat or a soullessly grey waiting room I see one less experience between me and my wife :)
One more shoot to go " see you on the ground"
