David Gascoigne recalls: ‘Braindead was a resounding success in the market at Cannes. Usually at screenings you start out with a cinema that is maybe 40 to 50 per cent full and, by the time the lights go up at the end, there are about ten people left in the audience! There were three screenings of Braindead and not only were people fighting to get into them but, when the film ended, everyone was still there in the theatre–something I’d never before seen happen to any New Zealand film.’
It had taken a long time for Braindead to get made and be successful. Like Bad Taste and Meet the Feebles, it had been a testing– often exhausting–uphill struggle.
Looking back, I feel as though it is almost as though the films, in themselves, are not as important as the fact that they actually got made!
Over a period of ten years we fought enough battles and worked through enough politics in order to make those small films, which ultimately equipped us to take on the biggest challenge of all: getting The Lord of the Rings made.
Following the screening of Braindead at the Olympia, director and producer took David Gascoigne for a celebratory ice-cream sundae. ‘Over the coupe de glace,’ remembers David, ‘Peter and Jim–who did an incredible double-act between them–told me about another project they were interested in: a true story of two schoolgirls in New Zealand who commit a brutal crime. It was a story I had heard about when I was a kid and I remember my parents trying to hide the newspapers from me. It seemed to be a terribly unlikely subject for a film –particularly a Peter Jackson film. But as Peter talked he worked his “magical persuasiveness” and I began to think that maybe, after all, it was a film that he could make…’
That film, Heavenly Creatures, begun as another stepping-stone in Peter Jackson’s career, eventually turned out to be a milestone.
Concluding his appraisal of Braindead in 1990, Costa Botes had written: ‘It is beyond my brief to comment on Jackson’s future prospects, but I do believe he has the potential to follow in the footsteps of directors like David Cronenberg and Roman Polanski; his talents and interests are by no means restricted to horror films.’
Heavenly Creatures was to prove that assessment true.
5
ISSUES OF LIFE AND DEATH
‘Having just come off seven months’ intensive work on Braindead, I feel as if I’m only just starting to figure out what film-making is all about. I want nothing more than to launch myself into another movie right now!’
Peter Jackson was writing to the New Zealand Film Commission in May 1992 with a proposal for a very particular movie, which he wanted to make ‘as soon as possible’–although he was already enough of a pragmatist to add, ‘I’m sure every film-maker says that
…’
When you’re a young film-maker and you’re trying to get a momentum going and movies made, the best time to float a new project is when people are being enthusiastic and saying nice things about your previous one! If you’re selling people a film at Cannes or Mifed, that’s the perfect opportunity to tell them your latest idea and show them the next script. To strike while the iron is hot!
I had developed a pattern of starting writing my next movie while I was in post-production of the one before: Fran, Stephen and I had written Braindead–and come up with the idea for Meet the Feebles – while Bad Taste was being completed; and, while Braindead was in post-production, Fran and I settled on an idea for another film.
By that point, certain personal dynamics had changed: Stephen and Fran had amicably ended their relationship the previous year, and Stephen had moved back to his native Auckland. Subsequently, Peter and Fran became partners and would be, for a while, sole collaborators.
As with so many aspects of Peter Jackson’s life, coincidence and chance seemed to jog the hand of Fate. ‘It is very curious,’ says Fran, ‘but my grandmother’s sister lived three doors down from Peter’s family in Pukerua Bay, and when I was 4 or 5 years old, my grandmother used to take me on visits. Peter’s mother knew my aunt well and we must have passed each other on that street in our pushchairs. ’
At the time of writing to the Film Commission about the movie he wanted to make ‘right now’, Peter had, in fact, several potential film projects in various stages of development. There was Blubberhead, ‘a very big expensive project’, the script for which Peter was revisiting with Danny Mulheron (‘Leaving scripts alone for a few months always works wonders…’), and there was Warrior Season, being written with Costa Botes.
The Warrior Season was a Kung Fu western, set in the NZ Gold Rush of the 1870s. It was born out of an idea of Costa’s, blended with my newfound love of Jackie Chan movies. My LA friends, Dave Schow and Mark Ordesky, had introduced me to some of these amazing Hong Kong movies like Police Story 2 and Project A. I’d never liked this type of film before, but Jackie Chan had so much in common with Buster Keaton–brilliant physical comedy–that I became an instant fan.
At one stage, The Warrior Season was a film I was hoping to make. I remember Costa and I talked about me directing it, and I wanted Timothy Dalton to play the villain. It was not to be, but the script still exists, so who knows? We used the title as a private in-joke much later in Forgotten Silver.
There were also early stirrings on an idea that Peter had been playing with, on and off, for a number of years and still not quite relinquished –Bad Taste 2.
At various times–on Bad Taste’s release and, later, when it was issued on video–reviewers seemed to be of the opinion that the story of The Boys and their alien adversaries was not yet over. As one critic put it: ‘If ever an ending cries out for a sequel, this one does.’
‘When Bad Taste was first released,’ wrote Peter in 1992, ‘I felt some pressure to do a sequel…It seemed people expected me to jump straight into it…That made me all the more determined not to! I wasn’t going to allow myself to be pigeonholed so early in my career. I was keen to learn about scriptwriting, work with experienced people and professional actors. I made a promise to myself at the time that I would only do it when I wanted to–when I was excited by the idea…’
Now, it seemed, he was finally getting excited: ‘I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately, and the urge to have a go at Bad Taste 2 is getting strong, so I guess now is the time. After all…none of us boys are getting any younger!’
Life had recently been busy–completing Braindead (‘Finished, hallelujah!’) and researching future projects–but Peter had somehow managed to find a little time for contemplating what mayhem might be unleashed in a possible Bad Taste 2: ‘Things have been pretty hectic, and at the end of the day I’d collapse into a hot bath. Most of the best ideas for Bad Taste came to me when I was laying in the bath, so I decided to try thinking up stuff for Bad Taste 2…’
The results of ‘those nocturnal soaks’ were suitably anarchic and with the prospect of becoming even more so: ‘The original Bad Taste was shot over four years, with the story and gags developing constantly over that time. I obviously can’t repeat that, but I do want to have the ideas bubbling away for a long time before things start to get nailed down…I have concentrated on trying to come up with a reasonable narrative that can be used as a backbone for a lot of action and humour…When I first set out, I had three elements I wanted to work into the story…An alien attack on Wellington, Santa Claus and a giant Weta. The mix may not be quite right yet, but at least they’re all in there!’
As indeed they were, along with Derek’s experiences among their fast food outlets on the alien planet, Nailic Nod; Giles being consumed by the giant Weta and reborn as an insect with a human head; The Boys defending Wellington against extra-terrestrial invasion; a Santa’s workshop (relocated to the South Pole) complete with elves; a phoney alien, Santa; an assassinated Rudolph and a reindeer braintransplant (with antlers) for the brain-dead Derek!
It had every indication that it was a story still in development but with all the makings of one that would be filled with wild and wacky nonsense. About one thing Peter was adamant; Bad Taste
2 was to be a low-budget exercise: ‘The second film must be shot with the same flavour as the first…BT2 must not look glossier and flashier than the original. Certainly a lot of the technical and directorial flaws that are apparent in Bad Taste can be eliminated, but the tone and style (which has rough edges) must not.’
Peter also intended ‘to toy around’ with slightly offbeat production methods…possibly a very long shoot with a small crew: ‘I have gained valuable experience working with normal-sized crews on Meet the Feebles and Braindead, but ironically some of the best scenes in both movies were shot with tiny crews.’ Peter had been most recently inspired by an experience towards the end of the Braindead shoot: having uncharacteristically run under budget, he had had enough spare money to finance an extra, unscripted sequence that was filmed on the fly and with a lot of improvisation.
The sequence, dubbed ‘Selwyn Loose in the Park’, featured the zombie baby, with Lionel in pursuit, going on the rampage through the innocent world of kiddie-swings and nursing mothers. This episode–like that of Wynyard the Frog on the run in Vietnam in Feebles–was shot with a tiny crew, which for Peter had definite advantages: ‘The atmosphere is relaxed and you generally get twice as much shot as on a normal day.’
BT2 was, as well as being a possible answer to the ‘numerous enquiries and requests’ received ‘from magazines and fans around the world,’ an opportunity for Peter to get back to his roots: being fully hands-on and in total control of his film-making. It was the way he had started–his one-man-film-school approach–and some elements of it had doubtless been hard to relinquish.
Several of those involved in Meet the Feebles recall Peter’s insistence on being behind the camera as being seen by some as a breach of the accepted, or expected, procedures of professional film-making (even in the relaxed atmosphere of New Zealand), where a director does not also do the job of the director of photography. With Braindead, Peter had surrendered the job of camera operator, but BT2 offered a possible return to the amateur-auteur ways he had enjoyed on his first film.
Despite his obvious desire to get back together with The Boys and, once again, save the world–or at least Wellington–from the aliens, he was also beginning to feel the need to make a very different film from what, by now, was seen as a genre he had made his own.
After finishing Braindead, I thought, ‘Where is there to go now with splatter films?’ I had just made what I thought was the ultimate splatter film! What else could I do: make another one and set it in a different place, a different time? It would just be more splatter.
As he wrote to the Film Commission in 1992, ‘After Bad Taste, Meet the Feebles and Braindead, I have to admit to being slightly worn down by all the mayhem and splatter! I’d like to have a crack at something different. Working with the actors on Braindead was fun and the idea of doing a movie that is less gimmicky, with real characters, greatly appeals to me at this time…
‘My interest in film-making goes deeper than gag-driven “splatstick” films. I feel I have more to offer than the limited skills needed to keep turning them out. I love the horror/fantasy/action genres and intend to continue working in that field, but I would also like to diversify once in a while and make something with a little more substance. I feel that this is a good time in my career to do that.’
And he already had the ideal project with which to diversify…
In July 1954, the newspapers in New Zealand were full of reports of a brutal murder committed in Christchurch, a city not usually known as a place of sensational events. The crime, which rocked Christchurch society and shocked the entire nation, was according to the florid rhetoric of the Crown Prosecutor: ‘A callously planned and premeditated murder committed by two highly intelligent but precocious and dirty-minded girls.’
On 22 June, during a walk in Victoria Park, 16-year-old Pauline Parker and 15-year-old Juliet Hulme had battered Pauline’s mother to death using, as a weapon, a brick in a stocking. Details of what rapidly became known as the ‘Parker–Hulme Murder Case’ were captured in colourful headlines that were soon splattered across not just the front pages of New Zealand’s newspapers but also across those of the British Press.
Despite class differences, the girls both possessed highly developed intellects, fertile imaginations and a considerable creative talent for writing, drawing and model-making. Together, they became caught up in a world of shared fantasies and grandiose delusions, born out of mutual emotional dependency and carrying them to a heightened state of ecstatic euphoria.
Concerns about the possibly ‘unhealthy’ nature of their relationship led to attempts to part the girls; as a result, the murder of Pauline’s mother–seen as the chief obstacle to their being together –was cold-bloodedly planned and executed.
Found guilty and being too young to be hanged, the girls were imprisoned but were released five years later, taking on new identities and disappearing from the public gaze. Hardly surprisingly, the case was, and has remained, a cause célèbre.
There was a lot of curiosity about their outrageous and inexplicable crime, but even more so about where the girls were now and what had become of them, which had kept interest in the story alive for almost forty years.
Fran had been fascinated by the Parker–Hulme case since she was young. At the time, I hadn’t heard of the case but Fran kept mentioning it, telling me about books and newspaper stories she had read on the subject and insisting that the story of Pauline and Juliet would make a great film. Initially, I didn’t believe her: I just thought, ‘Two girls kill one of their mothers, it’s a pretty grim story, why would anyone ever want to go and see a movie about that?’ But Fran didn’t give up and eventually we began to research the case together. As we did so, I became more and more interested, not so much in the murder as in the character of the girls and, finally, I started trying to find the movie…
Various films had been made over several decades based on celebrated twentieth-century murder cases, including the Christie killings that took place in 10 Rillington Place; the story of Ruth Ellis (the last woman to be hanged in Britain) in Dance with a Stranger; and an account of the miscarriage of justice that led to the hanging of Derek Bentley for a crime he did not commit in the film Let Him Have It.
They were all rather gloomy, depressing films without any joy or humour in them. I said to Fran that I wouldn’t want this story to be told like that–it was the obvious, easy way to go. I would want it to have more life, more heart and that meant trying to find out why the girls did what they did.
Their research began with contemporary press accounts of the trial that were prosaic–even simplistic–and which reduced a complex case to a series of journalistic tag-lines: ‘No Remorse’, ‘“Intense” Friendship’, ‘Legally Insane?’ And most of what had been written subsequently had simply rehashed those accounts.
Evidence was presented at the trial that sought to question the girls’ sanity and extracts from diaries kept by Pauline were quoted to stress what was seen as abnormal behaviour. Adolescent rituals, such as making little temples in the garden for the candlelit worship of famous matinee-idols, were interpreted as being cult-like and sinister; while the girls’ obsessive devotion for one another was interpreted– in veiled hints, typical of the times–as being indicative of a lesbian love-affair, a social evil not far short of murder. There was a general feeling that the girls were, therefore, inherently evil.
Apart from the trial reports, writings about the case were few and far between and ranged from a lurid 1950s pulp-fiction novel based on the thinly disguised real-life events and subscribing to the prevailing ‘demon-daughter’ theories, to a 1990s socio-political study, Parker & Hulme: A Lesbian View, exploring the homosexual hysteria attending the trial.
Fran and I talked about what we had read so far and I remember saying, ‘We can’t base a movie on this stuff. We have to research the real events for ourselves…’ So, we started to do exactly that: ignoring all the newspaper accounts and going back to the original
sources, such as court papers and trial transcripts.
Whilst Peter and Fran began to uncover details that had been forgotten, suppressed or distorted in the various accounts of the murder, they made another discovery:
It came as quite a shock to us to find that there were two other prospective film projects based on the same story: one to have been produced by Dustin Hoffman’s company and the other to have been directed by Niki Caro, who would later make the award-winning Whale Rider.
Such a situation was very unusual for a country this size, but that wasn’t all: in addition to the possible films, there was also a stage play, Daughters of Heaven by Michelanne Forster, which had been performed in Christchurch in 1991 and was being talked about as the basis of a possible TV film. We were now aware that there were other people who were thinking about this as a film subject, which motivated Fran and me to think, ‘God, if we want to do this ourselves, we’d better be pretty quick, or someone else is going to get there first!’
It was only a matter of months before Peter was to take Braindead to the Cannes Film Festival, which was the obvious forum in which to announce his interest in the Parker–Hulme story. Peter was in the cutting-room during the day, finishing editing on Braindead, but in the evenings he and Fran would work on their new screenplay and within just five or six weeks had produced a draft script for what was to be called Heavenly Creatures.
We wrote right up until the eve of going to Cannes and I took the script with me to the Festival, hot off the press, as it were.