The Staff

I had my stuff packed. I had bought my guide-book for Athens, had a few shirts and was glad to get to know the night life of Athens. Greg who picked me up at the airport in Athens told me he needed to shop before taking the seven hour drive to the shooting location, cause there were no shops. What? That was what I haven’t heard before. No Athens, no glitzy Hotel, no night life and no shampoo. There was no shampoo in my guest room in that tiny village by the sea. One plastic bottle on the sink, with a hand drawn on it, had this very watery, greenish soap in it that did the job of a shampoo, at least for the few days, I was planned to stay.

Steve was the writer of the play. Therefore he had plenty of time. He was on the set conversing now and then with Peter Bogdanovich about slight changes in the script and else, but was not directly involved in the extremely tight shooting schedule. Peter Bogdanovich, Martin, the German line producer, and Ernie the American line producer were discussing what scenes, initially intended to be shot on the boat, could be postponed to the studio in Berlin. We only had two weeks shooting time in Greece and many of the shot required the boat to be set by the pier. Strong wind would prohibit the boat to stay there, cause the high waves would have pushed the ship against the pier. The boat had run out into the sea and filming was often interrupted or shot out in the sea, if the script allowed to do so.

So we ended up sitting quite a bit in the cafeteria or a cafe nearby. Especially Steve Peros, who was basically finished with his job, writing his script, Kim Bieber, the producer, and me. Well, I had my work left at home and was scheduled initially to be there only for two days. I tried to get a computer in that tiny village, but all of them were occupied by the staff. So, I was trying to write down my thesis on a piece of paper at the corner of the cafeteria. At time when the cafeteria got crowded by the film crew I would just wonder about to take a break, going to a cafe up on the hill, that oversaw the small bay. That bay had two piers. One that should represent San Diego the other a different port. Basically, shooting was done on the two piers or out on the sea.

The shooting had cut me out of my work for entire two weeks instead of the anticipated four days including flight. I believe I was just pushed around, since most of the staff thought I was just a student with a free schedule to go. No, I definitely had no time. So in the end, I really had to tell them that my time was up, but anyway, they did my scene on the very last day. I can’t really complain about that, since I was able to get acquainted with the actors, the staff and the writer.

Steve was a second generation American from Greece. He was a relaxed character and told me in his relaxed way that he was very excited about being here, how fast everything went once it got rolling, and that he was happy how all the staff and actors were handling the project. He had this way of a writer, this observing but not actually participating way. I know a second generation Korean-American writer, who also has a very similar character. May be it is a way of second generation immigrants, who, on the one hand, have parents bound to the old culture, and on the other faced with the American culture on the other hand. Sandwiched between two cultures, one tends to observe a lot, how to fit in and how to accentuate this and other things. I am neither an American nor a second generation, but since I was brought up in Germany in a Japanese household, I believe I have this way of quiet observation that goes with me. Anyway, as an aspiring writer myself, Steve was the actual hero for me. And it was his first big filming project. For me, at least it felt like, that a friend whom you had known for years just made a breakthrough of his life. He had this easygoing character.

Kim and Steve were joking and gossiping all the time, which I was not able to follow all the time. My brain was thinking about the thesis and I was just out of the routine of American rhythm of conversation, having left Boston for some time, but that was nothing compared to the British that swirled around the many British actors that were present. Why is it that one can understand them so hardly? Do I need a complete pair of new ears to do that? And often, I would get their jokes only a few seconds after having brought out, when everyone has moved already to the next story. Why is that? It’s the timing of culture. Different beat, different rhythm, different groove or just the way I am or, hopefully, the way they – them Brits - are.

I had been tagging around with them like a quiet shadow, shooting videos, since Steve had brought his personal camcorder to catch the action going on. I was quite thrown out again when they were playing this game trying to come up with a movie, saying an actor’s name who was playing in it, trying to remember another movie he did or a director he had worked with and so on around the group while waiting during the set change. I did not know most of these names they were able to come up with. Joanna Lumley and Steve were awfully good at this game. "Oh, oh him that would bring us into a complete new dimension. The epitome Western of the fifties..."

Cary Elwes and I were once driven in a van to the pier. It stopped at an inclination just before the pier and Greg, the Greek driver, left us. When he closed the door the van began rolling towards the sea. Greg saw it, jumped back into the car and brought the car to halt. Cary looked at me with his eyes turned to an owl gleaming at night saying, "That would have been me and you in the sea." Why is it that American actors need to dramatize everything to the apex? Now, that churned me to reply in the same way, trying to create round owl eyes as best I could to with my slitty Asian eyes I was born with, braking all my face muscles and reply "Yes indeed, duh".

I had no idea that Cary was British. He is very, I would not say American, but he was very Hollywood Californian. No, I never knew anyone before from Hollywood, no, but his style, hard to say what, may be his beautiful Hollywood wife, or something. First of all, he does not speak British. His speaks groovy Californian. Well, I have to think about that character more, was not able to analyze him on those few occasions I met him. Or you must analyze any married man from his wife. Thank god I am still single.

Often we just ran out of any conversation material. There was no TV, no newspapers no radio. Once people would discuss their laundry.

Ronan: So, you have packed to be here for two days.

Me: Yeah.

Ronan: So, that would be quite a few socks and underwear short for a two weeks stay, you know, the wet weather does not help to dry things. (grinning)

Ronan was so right on the point. I hated that. I wore them inside out, back to front – notice, I am only joking - had washed them turned it, did whatever it took to dry it. Well, the air conditioner in the room worked somehow as a dryer, imagine me standing in front of it holding up the stuff to dry... not a beautiful sight.

Ronan: How do you wash them? In the sink or while you shower?

Me: That’s some very personal question.

Eddie also grinning.

You would not want to follow this conversation. So that’s it.

Most of the time I was on the set talking to the potato like owner of the old timer a taxi driver in Berlin and another older guy who also came from Berlin and owned a few of those cars, cause they tended the cars while I was on the set. The second guy was probably an engineer or something, I can smell these things, cause I am a trained one myself. We were spending the time talking about the cars how they worked, what was different at that prehistoric time. Almost everything had changed, except the basics. I never got used to clutch in between at neutral when you had to shift.

Richard. We had two Richards on the set. The still photographer Richard, that dude with long hair, who wanted us to make believe he had a PhD from Stanford, well he really seemed to have gone there but it remained a mystery with which degree he had left. He was swimming in the sea whenever he had time. The other Richard, was the young, lanky, tall German trainee who did everything for Peter Bogdanovich. He was carrying his bottle of water, running around to get this and that getting toilet paper, getting his food, getting tooth picks. Tooth picks were extremely important, since Peter, once a chain smoker, had quit smoking. Now he had to chew on a stick, just to feel fine and able to concentrate. According to Richard, the still photographer, there would be a distinct shaping of a rectangle around the stand of the monitor on the ground of used tooth picks, that Peter would crush in the middle after their use and drop them, walking around the monitor in deep thought. "RICHARD" Peter’s voice would echo, when Richard was out there among other staff, getting sometimes too comfortable. Richard would jump up with a happy face and run to assist the big man at work.

How did I feel being thrown out there into that filming wilderness? I don’t know. Slightly giddy, some dismay, and I was never sure who I was or where I belonged. I thought I had something in common with Steve, cause he was a writer, and I was and am still a wishful writer; I had something in common with Martin and Ernie, since they were managing the project and I used to manage, but in the end I was there as an actor, at least on the paper. I think that feel came through when Robert from the costume tried to get me into that old style clothing. I was not used at all someone getting me dressed. It felt like I had returned to childhood when mother tried to get me my clothes. I mean it’s awkward and I could not stand still. "You just have to stand still and behave like an actor" were the words from Robert when I had to shift my shoulders again, when he wanted to put me on the jacket. Ok that was that. I had to stand still and repeat in my head I am an actor, I am an actor, I am an actor...

Yes indeed, I was an actor. At least I had a room for myself. Most of the staff members had to share a room, cause rooms were of short supply in this village. Quite tough. Though when all the actors were at the airport in Athens I noticed that all of the them were flying out to Frankfurt by Lufthansa, but me. I had to take a taxi to a different airport that looked more like a huge Greyhound bus station, had to change the ticket and fly out three hours later with the Olympic airline. Luckily, a girl from the local Greek staff helped me to get my ticket and else, but it would have been much nicer, flying out with everyone. Who says I was lucky enough being there and getting paid. Well, I believe you are right.

How the hell did an engineer get into acting? Well, you may get a hint in the following chapter.

Caught Between Cultures

Well, caught between cultures. That’s me. When I returned to Japan to work for a corporation called S..Y people gave me nicknames. "Ich bin," "Gaijin","Doitsu-kun"(from Deutschland), "Doitsu-jin", "Geruman" well basically they referred to me as a foreigner, who was too outspoken, too direct, not having manners, disrespectful and just uncontrollable. I corrected my ways, at least I was able to control myself for a small stretch of time, so Japanese would not notice me anymore as a foreigner. When I was about to polish up my being Japanese I quit and moved to Boston.

The US was different challenge. Now it meant being American. At least I had to act American to get my ideas across. It was the world of fighting for yourself or get succumbed, especially since it was the automotive industry, where blames were thrown at each other – think Ford, Firestone - , costs were cut to where parts were sold in pounds, and schedules were imminent, - you did not want to stop a line at GM -. You had somehow protect yourself, otherwise the blame would be piled up on the undefended. You just can’t be too naive in the car industry. It’s a crime. Being an underdog, yes. Weakness and naivete, no. After a while, I surprised myself and others by shouting out f words in a complete American way, exactly how the car industry demanded. It felt f cking great.

Oh, by the way, I used up the watery shampoo bottle with a picture of a hand on it. Did the laundry, washed my hair, well quite did not work as a tooth paste, but was all right. It also felt great to wear some clean clothes back home again.

BACKGROUND INFO ON THE REAL KONO
(translated from Japanese with comments by Yuki)

Who the hell was Kono? Chaplin's driver was also was his personal secretary, a handy man and a friend? Or was he a friend? Why did they go separate ways? And how did they get together in the first place?

He was born 1888 and moved to the US at the age of 17 or 18 to become a lawyer. He saw an article in a newspaper providing a job as a chauffeur and ended up coincidentally with Charlie Chaplin.

Kono showed peculiar behavior in the beginning, asking Chaplin to pray for the emperor, acting weird or with anxiety. When the Japanese president, Inukai Takeshi at that time had been assassinated, it became clear to Chaplin that Kono had been once pressured by the Japanese right wing, still carrying the fright with him.

So was he satisfied with his boss? He was fond of him, one can probably say and ill mouthed about Chaplin's second very young wife Rita Grey, who was an avid spender of money and enjoyed parties with marine officers. This is according to a memoir by Mr. Ushihara, a Japanese Director, who  wish was to be a student of Chaplin. He therefore contacted Mr. Kono, who replied: "My uncle is a very difficult man. But I will try what I can do." When permission was achieved Ushihara to be a student of Chaplin, Kono was supposed to have exclaimed joy as if it was his own destiny, showing his side of a compassionate good man.

Mr. Kono also tried to get some other acts together, for example when director Sternberg asked him to arrange Chaplin to see his movie, shoving a little bit of money into the pocket of Kono. Oh, was Kono greedy? Noo, this example should show, how Kono would work hard to get pieces moving together, taking his job serious as a secretary of Chaplin. It is obvious that Kono was a man of the Japanese Meiji period with strict moral orders. Chaplin invited Kono to play a part in his movie "Adventure" (Gee is this the American title? I just translated it from the Japanese) and was glad to tell his wife about the additional income he had received, upon which, his wife responded: "How dare you, an actor, this will never be forgiven by our ancestors, you should never, ever try to do this kind of thing again."

Kono tried to support Chaplin in many ways. When Chaplin was going through the divorce with his first wife Mildred Harris, his project "Kid" which was in the process of being edited, was in danger of being held down by the court as a property. Both ended up fleeing, Kono driving the car with 60$ and Chaplin himself with 70$ in his pocket respectively all the way down to Salt Lake in Utah.

According to David Robinson, who wrote about Chaplin, Kono took also care of private matters. He was supposed to have camouflaged the proceedings with Rita Grey and Chaplin, to support a smooth process for their wedding.

After 18 years Kono decided to go separate ways. Chaplin was now together with Paulet, who was more engaged than his preceding wives in Chaplin's personal matters. According to Mr. Yodogawa, the famous film critic of Japan, Kono was jealous of Chaplin's new wife, and mad about Chaplin himself, who had made himself being a marionette of her, telling him what Kono had to do. Chaplin later apologized and asked Kono to come back again three times, but his wounded pride never really healed.

Chaplin arranged him new work in the movie business, but Kono never found a way to stay there. He opened up a law office in Little Tokyo at Los Angeles and was known among the neighbors just as a lawyer Kono, not by the long-term relationship with a famous man. He reveals the character of the old traditional Japanese, pertaining thoughts and memories for himself. That on the other hand is the lack of a million seller titled "Charlie Chaplin, the Writer, Director, Actor and the Man who Shagged a Million Chicks". (Had I been Kono, gee, I would be living in Hollywood in a mansion with three swimming pools and 100 chicks.)

In the late days Kono was living in his apartment in Hiroshima. Mr. Yodogawa, the film critic paid him a visit and recalls the last time he met him that he would speak of Chaplin with love and before departing, that he was guiding out the way and looking at him until he disappeared in the far with eyes that followed his past.

Kono Toraichi

1888 Born

1916-1934 Personal Secretary and Driver of Chaplin

1971 Passed away in Hiroshima

This piece was written based on the information written by Hisaji Kubo.

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