SILENT MEMORIES:
MAKING "THE OPTIMIST"

by

Robert Sidaway

As a writer, actor, and producer, the art of comedy has always been the most challenging and exacting of disciplines to get right. Yet it’s also one of the most rewarding, whether it elicits a belly laugh or just a gentle smile. At the end of the 1970s, I was no longer acting and moving out of West End theatre production and tours and into television and film, starting with a World Cup documentary series “The Game Of The Century” for the BBC.

So, when I came across Richard Sparks’ script for a short film, I was immediately attracted to the originality of making a silent comedy.

The most immediate issue was to raise the money, based on a budget that it would be generous to describe as basic. After hearing from Richard, that then little-known actor Rowan Atkinson was interested to play the lead, I found a bunch of investors, then lost some of them, found others, lost Rowan to illness, and finally with Richard found Enn Reitel in his place. To cut the story short – in August 1981, I was on a plane to Los Angeles, with a briefcase packed with traveler’s cheques!

Enn and Sharron Davies, the Olympic swimmer who was to play the Girl, were already in the Mexican resort of Cabo San Lucas at the tip of the Baja California peninsula, with a crew arranged by Los Angeles contacts. The young director was Peter Ellis, who at the time had a few British credits to his name, and the DP was Peter Appleton, a multi-hyphenate known for his work with Robert Altman and Robert Benton.

After a feverish night on the phone to London persuading the main investor who wanted to pull out of the production, and threatened legal action, to stay with the production, I changed the traveler's cheques at a Century City bank and flew to Cabo with $25,000 packed in the briefcase. Taking advantage of AeroMéxico’s generous supply of margaritas, I was happy (very happy!) to meet actors, surfers and crew rehearsing on the sand next to our beachfront hotel and finally left my worries behind. It wasn’t until much later in the day that I suddenly remembered I’d left the briefcase on the beach!

It was Mexico and the tide was coming in. I dreaded that I’d lost the money and with it the production – but there it was on a deserted stretch of sand amid gently lapping surf!

The 10-day shoot was a blur of activity with a small but hard-working crew and, with money stretched to the limit, almost everyone ended up on screen. We filmed outside apart from wraparound scenes in the lead character’s cramped apartment, which necessitated a night in the local town. In 1981, it was a jolt to see the poverty that rubbed shoulders with the tourist wealth.

The final scenes on the schedule involved all of us making up the numbers for the restaurant sequence. It didn’t help that our director had succumbed to virulent diarrhea. In the early hours of the morning, we wrapped – and just in time to get to the airport.

The initial edit was put together by the two Peters in a comfortably chaotic suite at a North Seward Street facility in Los Angeles. My first Hollywood production! It was there I met composer David Spear, who was working on another film in the building. There was an immediate bond, an understanding of the gentle humor we were aiming for. David’s theme became a defining part of the film and then the subsequent series.

Back in the UK, reality hit. Despite what I felt was a good edit, we were short of the money needed to complete the film and despite some favorable reactions at a series of screenings, there wasn’t a sale to a TV company. “Sea Dreams” had been shot on 35mm with the original intention it could also be shown in cinemas as a short before the main feature (a popular convention at the time). Even Mamoun Hassan at the National Film Finance Corporation turned us down. By the end of October, I was still £20,000 short of completing what we were now ambitiously proposing as a pilot for a series.

Then Cecil Korer entered our lives. Cecil had made his name during a 20-year period at the BBC where he produced hits like “Ask The Family”, “The Good Old Days” and “It's A Knockout”. He joined the newly established broadcaster Channel Four in June 1981 as Commissioning Editor for Light Entertainment and was responsible for purchases such as “Cheers” as well as commissioning shows like “Countdown”, the broadcaster’s very first and longest-running program, and “Treasure Hunt”. Just before Christmas, I somehow managed to arrange for Cecil to see our incomplete short in the small 20th Century Fox screening room in Soho Square.

He never laughed once!

As the flickering images spun to black and the lights came up, Cecil stood and headed out. I presume my heart sank, but I didn’t have to time to reflect before he turned with a theatrical throw of his scarf, and bluntly stated –

“I would like six half-hours plus this, on one condition – you shoot them in Hollywood. If this isn’t a problem, give me a call tomorrow.”

I remember shakily exiting into the chill autumn air, finding a nearby wine bar, and needing a drink to calm my nerves. It took a while before my disbelieving mind could except that my dream had come true. “The Optimist” was born – it was going to become a TV series!

By March of 1982, we’d signed a development deal to come up with six more stories. Three months later, we were in pre-production in Los Angeles, based out of Marina del Rey. The budget was more generous than our Mexican adventure, but we were still existing on financial fumes, a motley British crew of Brits joining some equally eccentric Americans – and saved many times by line producer Graham Cottle. I had reunited the two Peters and flew a different actress across the Atlantic for each episode. In addition, our casting director in LA, Jose Villaverde, unearthed some gems, fresh talent as well as seasoned veterans.

It was a tough, relentless three months. This time we shot on 16mm, with the negative footage sent back to editors in London on a weekly basis, and thankfully a mostly uneventful process – although customs held the film cans for “Burning Rubber” for days suspecting possible porn material! Finally they were convinced it was a motor racing story!  

The last story on the schedule was “A Challenge”, a swashbuckling pastiche that features an extended sword fight across Hollywood between the Optimist in white and his Rival in black. Starting and ending on Santa Monica beach, it takes in the iconic Hollywood sign, the classic Paramount studio gate, the steps of Hollywood High School and even across Sunset Boulevard as well as assorted sidewalks and a car wash. Clint Eastwood’s stuntman and sometime director Buddy Van Horn rehearsed the actors, and we shot much of the episode on the hoof, as we knew we’d never get permissions for all the locations in time for our shooting schedule. Plus, we couldn’t afford the cost!

All went well, until Sunset Boulevard. The script sees the duel momentarily halted when the Optimist and Rival are forced to pause when the crossing lights turn red. They lower their swords and share a cigarette until the walk sign changes, after which they clash swords once more as they cross. But at this moment two cop cars screeched up and we were in real trouble. A certificate to shoot was demanded, and handcuffs were out even as I apologized, trying some desperate British charm. I’m not certain the charm worked, but being British did. Once they knew we were filming for television in the old country, and showing off great Hollywood landmarks, the cuffs were put away. All they requested was a copy of the finished film. Enn signed autographs and we had police escort for the rest of the day. Mind you I had also mentioned we were from the BBC!

For the circus episode “Kid’s Stuff”, I hired a mini circus set, with clowns, jugglers, trapeze artists, ponies, and fire-eaters. Based in the San Fernando Valley, it was owned and operated by famous stunt coordinator Bob Yerkes. In the story, Enn Reitel and Christine Garner, his dream girl in this story, become trapeze artists, which involved many hours training. Despite suffocating heat, all went well during the first week of the shoot. However, on the day of a big clown sequence, the lead clown didn’t turn up. A new performer was found and willing to come to the set, but demanded twice the original fee. The budget couldn’t afford it, so I made the decision to play the clown for free!

My make-up was done by a professional consultant. It took a good hour to create an original clown face, and I was told that it would be registered under my name in the Clown Hall of Fame – on an eggshell amongst hundreds of others. All professional clowns through the ages have their own individual face designs registered and sent there – and I am proudly amongst them on the shell of an egg. In my humble opinion my cameo stole the episode!

Any production is a conflict between the creative and the financial and “The Optimist” was no exception, a scramble to make what is needed each day, while maintaining the needed energy and inspiration, as well as stealing additional shots on weekends and picking up inserts requested by the editors in London.

Channel 4 finally emerged onto British screens on November 2, 1982, with our series one of the chosen highlights previewed. The following April, the seven episodes started airing. It was hard to gauge how successful our shows were with viewers, since audience figures were so small. However, the day after the third episode was transmitted, I finally knew someone was watching.

In “Man’s Worst Friend”, in which the Optimist becomes a handyman at a Mulholland Drive mansion and falls for the daughter of the house, I had a call from Channel 4’s press office, to tell me that there was an animal rights protest outside the building. More than a hundred people were protesting cruelty in the show! They urgently needed to know what this was all about, and to come to their Charlotte Street base immediately – I knew exactly what this was about!

In the episode, the Optimist has been walking the family dogs, a St Bernard and a poodle, and blue paint has splattered over the pristine, smaller animal. After making a mess cleaning her in the sink, he hides the poodle amidst washing, little knowing the Maid will then bundle everything into the washing machine, adding powder and switching it on. The idea was to cut to later, when the sheets are unloaded, and there is the fluffiest, cleanest poodle you’ve ever seen!

Little did I know the animal wrangler would switch the actual machine on with the dog still inside, much to the collective unit’s shock. Within moments the dog was out, safe and sound, and all fluffed up! A single shot survived in the final show, and it hit the headlines for “The Optimist” and Channel 4. Press apologies were made, and assurances that the dog was trained and unharmed – a true professional who’d helped us improve our viewing figures!

The overall reception for the series was good enough, and Cecil was allowed to order a further six adventures. Though this time finances were more complex. Charisma Films (part of Tony Stratton-Smith’s Charisma Records) had invested some finishing monies for the first season, in return for music publishing and some profit participation. For this second season, they became closer financing partners, enabling a slightly higher budget.

Of course, contrary creators that we were, it was decided to make these stories on more gritty English locations.

The iconic director Robert Fuest came aboard and worked on the scripts with Enn. Our mad production designer Mike Porter and enthusiastic costume designer Jo Korer repeated their duties, while Francis De Groote, who’d been Assistant Camera in California, took over as DP. John Cameron signed on to write the scores, cleverly incorporating David Spears original theme with his own compositions.

It was another difficult schedule, illuminated by the humor and generosity of the creators and technicians that came together. During three summers over a period of four years, we had many adventures making the 13 films. A few of us proudly wore the shirts emblazoned with the dates:

Mexico 1981

Los Angeles 1982

London 1984

I’m certain Enn has got his own special memories in filming episodes like “The Good, The Bad And The Nasty” – every actor’s dream is to be in a western, especially with a young Marty Kove who was cast as the Rival. We filmed at the famous Paramount Ranch in the rolling Agoura Hills, which was just being revitalized at the time, featuring a dusty Western street set soaked with the memories of old movies shot there.

I particularly remember taking over the Wimbledon Theatre in London for “The Light Fantastic” and filming dance sequences with ballerina and actress Karen Smith and principals of the corps de ballet from London City Ballet. Comedy filtered through some carefully choreographed moves from Swan Lake. And the last story we shot, with Julie Peasgood playing Enn Reitel’s Muse in “The Brush Off” as The Optimist becomes a world-famous painter. The two together demonstrated what a silent comedy story could achieve as her Muse held a plate of sausages are signed by the artist for the fawning art connoisseurs! 

I’m also proud that “The Fool Of The House Of Esher” was nominated for the Rose d’Or at the prestigious European event in Montreux. A pastiche on the classic mystery / horror film. One scene features Rosalind Lloyd trying to murder Enn with a particularly large tarantula, letting it crawl up his bed as he sleeps – until he turns and accidentally swallows the spider. (Personal note: I couldn’t be on set that afternoon with the wrangler because of my phobia - I’m terrified of spiders!)

I was back in Los Angeles on another project during the Spring of 1985 when the festival in Switzerland took place, receiving calls that we were one of the favorites to win. In the end, “The Optimist” was a close runner-up.

At the same time, Channel 4 was changing, establishing an edgier brand of comedy and taking provocative chances. In a way, they’d already done the same for us, providing a platform to make 13 short films labelled as ‘Narrative Comedy’.

The series also provided me with a ‘what could have been’ memory. After the second season had been shown on C4, I was asked to go and meet John Howard Davis at the BBC. At the time, he was the hugely successful head of light entertainment.

The surprise invite to meet turned out to be discuss his interest in developing “The Optimist” for me to make at the BBC. I had the rights, so the question was – was I interested? What I can’t remember was why it never happened! Was I arrogant enough not to want to pass the rights over to the BBC, as I remember CBS in America had expressed interest in a US version, though that came to nothing.

Anyway, six years later the first season of “Mr. Bean” was made, with Rowan Atkinson, who was originally going to be The Optimist, and John Howard Davis as the producer.

One thing for certain – I’ll always believe “The Optimist” was a thirteen-part pilot for “Mr. Bean.”

I’ve been asked many times if I could revive “The Optimist”, and of course I’d still love to. Maybe after all these years it’s arrival on streaming platforms across over a hundred and twenty countries might provoke this to happen. There's a pilot and ideas for a first season already written.

For me, it’s still a different form of broad-based entertainment, yet a chance to make something different, something without dialogue. Kind comedy. Visual stories filled with chaos, fun and music. And embracing an optimism for life through the most elusive art form – comedy.

And, as always, if just one viewer finds something to enjoy – from a belly-laugh to a gentle smile – then I know we succeeded. 

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