My horse’s name is Arthur. Unlike myself, Arthur is a veteran of many films. For fear of breaking some protocol, I won’t list Arthur’s credits but trust me; this dude has been on screen more times than anyone else in this film. He has carried Roman Soldiers, Crusaders, Cowboys, Knights, and now, Merry Men.
I am a very unaccomplished horseman. Thanks to some clever instruction over the past few months, I can honestly say that I know how to ride a horse, but I will not be anywhere near Arthur’s list of favorite passengers. I’ve done six or seven riding scenes now where we trot canter or gallop on or off screen and all of them have gone well, with all the film folks satisfied or delighted with the results.
A few days back, we were doing a scene where we ride down a road lined with…oops, should not say what…site this is hard. In any case, after a few takes bolting down the road, I was starting to get very used to the whole thing. Arthur did the exact same steps every time and his rhythm became very smooth. I almost felt like a real rider.
The AD (Assistant Director), called ‘Action’ and off we went one more time. Again, Arthur pushed along like the best drummer in the world and I fell into his perfect tempo, ta da dump, ta da dump. This would be like all the other takes, I figured. Just sit up straight and stay in the moment.
But then a sudden burst of power that I had not felt before; not a real jerk or stammer, just a gear that Arthur had not yet chosen to show me. I was a little spooked, I confess. Then, a half second later, I become aware that there is no sound. Nothing but air and wind. No reassuring backbeat of Arthur’s horseshoes hitting the ground. Then a bit of a lurch forward as the momentum of whatever the frig just happened came to a bit of a crashing end. I felt my whole self lurch forward over Arthur’s neck and head; not where you want to be. I felt my left foot come out of the stirrup; not good. I felt my weight slide to the right but managed to keep that foot in that stirrup and keep myself aboard. Then, another half second later, we are right back into his familiar gate and all is well.
A few hundred meters later, when some one yelled ‘Cut’, I came to a halt with the other riders and was just about to ask, “What the f@#k just happened?”, when one of the stunt dudes came over and noted, “That was cool the way you jumped that puddle.”
Excuse me? Jumped?
Apparently, just before the last take, the special effects gents, must have re-wetted the area and apparently, a puddle had formed in the path where one had not been till now. Arthur must have chosen, as it is a film veteran’s right to do, that he did not want to get his feet wet this late in the day, and leapt over the puddle instead of running through it.
I did not see the playback of the scene, but I can’t imagine proud warrior Allan A’Dayle stayed on that horse in mid flight. I suspect shitbaked folksinger Alan Doyle made an appearance somewhere in there, and he does not belong in the 12th Century.
Speaking of the ages, I am in the dying hours of my 30’s. In just a few days, I’ll say goodbye to my thirty something’s, which served me very well. Many thanks to all of you for your part in making the past decade so outstanding.
Wishing the same for the next one.
And the one after that.
Cheers,
Alan