You know how it is here on one of the more whimsical blogs present, we start off with good intentions, get diverted, fall off the grid and end up talking about the Atacama Salt Desert. Which is interesting in it's own right, just not what was planned.
Right, back to Poseidon. That should more accurately be "Poseidon", because I'm talking about the film, not the Greek god of the sea.
Here an aside*. How, exactly, did Poseidon get the "God of the Sea" gig? Did he actively seek it out, being a god-without-portfolio? Was he born into the job? - in which case who had it before him and did he serve an indentured apprenticeship? Could he be chucked out of the position if he failed to maintain the North Atlantic Oscillation? All serious questions that need answering. At a later date.
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| "Ah yes, the fascinating NAO. Well, several thousand years ago -" |
Back on track. Engine room, full speed ahead! We are talking, of course, about the 1972 film version, rather than the 2006 remake.
"What has caused all this reflective chuntering?" I hear you question. "It's a very old film, and even the remake is over 10 years old."
I caught part of the later reels on television just a few days ago, is why. I thought, on viewing it, that the whole process didn't look to be especially fun. In fact, an unpleasant experience for the cast, very unpleasant indeed: permanently wet, increasingly dirty over time - as the whole thing was (unusually) shot sequentially - bruised and buffeted, physically drained. Not only that, threatened by steam, smoke, fire and claustrophobic sets that simply bristle with jagged bits of metal. I would call it more of a "collective physical trauma", but what do I know**. Harder to fit on a poster, one supposes.
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| Oh yes, they're laughing NOW! |
Interestingly, the film was very tightly produced indeed, with an awful lot of pre-production planning, model work, story boarding and run-throughs. Thus it came in at 68 days shooting time, 2 days less than allowed for, sticking to a $5 million budget. This wouldn't be much of a collective sum nowadays, I admit, although it was a hefty wad of banknotes back in the day.
Irwin Allen, the producer, very wisely avoided any real filming at sea, for two reasons: i) It's expensive, and ii) You cannot control or predict the sea (they used a 22' model for exterior shots)
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| No! It's a SMALL model, not HUGE people. Sheesh. |
As worried about, there you go - over half-way to Count and only one subject covered. Oh well, our intentions were good***. Okay, that was Poseidon, let's tackle - Parrots!
Long John Silver
Back to the theme of devil birds afoot, or aclaw, let us now cast our eye upon Captain Flint, that scion of evil who perched upon the shoulder of Long John Silver. You know him, immortalised by Robert Newton in "Treasure Island" and the reason why all South Canadians who try to speak Pirate use a Cornish accent. "Arrrr, Jim Lad," etcetera, with heaps of clotted cream and fine china^.
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| A Cornish Alp. Yes, they are a thing. |
Your humble scribe hold strongly to the theory that Captain Flint was the evil mastermind who plotted mutiny and theft, murder and treachery, and who also watered down the grog, the villain! His catchphrases of "Pieces of Eight" and "Stand by to go about" were obviously coded communications with his human lackey, rendered indecipherable to other humans, especially as he was controlling LJS by subtle pressure variations in his clawing of the cats-paw's shoulder^^.
Of course, I could be over-thinking this ...
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| "EIGHTEENTH LETTER OF THE ALPHABET, Jim lad." |
Petrol And Pedestal
Operation Pedestal, that is. I am focussing on the tanker "S.S. Ohio", which was included in the Legendary-for-which-read-Extremely-Awful Op. Pedestal convoy because is was both large and fast. One might also add, because it was built by South Canadian craftsmen using sound engineering techniques and only the finest of materials. This is important later.
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| Before |
Much to the utter disgust of the South Canadian crew, they were replaced by a British one, although they were probably secretly relieved when they read about Op. Pedestal afterwards.
The Ohio was subjected to repeated and relentless air attack, being bombed and torpedoes all the way from the Sicilian Narrows to Malta. She sailed into the Grand Harbour at Valetta with the destroyed carcass of a dive-bomber on her deck, which deck was barely above water. In fact the only reason she made way at all was because she had been lashed to two destroyers, one on each side, with a third acting as makeshift rudder, making 3 knots.
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| During |
When she came into harbour the 70,000 Maltese who were cheering in the Op. Pedestal survivors went completely silent, took off their hats and crossed themselves, whilst a bugler, with a fine sense of timing, played "Still".
The instant this battered hulk drew alongside the docks the shore crews battened on her cargo of petrol and emptied it, at the end of which Ohio, broken-backed, sank to the bottom of the harbour. When the Unpleasantness was over the two halves were towed out to sea and scuttled, and I hope they sounded The Last Post and fired 6 rounds over her remains, because she deserved it.
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| After: what you might call a pacific grave |
The crew? A lot of them died. They had abandoned ship three times, which means they re-boarded her 3 times, which is 3 times more than you could expect a civilian mariner to do, really. Her Captain, , was awarded the George Cross, which must have been for all those present and the remainder who would never be able to attend.
Well then! That's all three of the title promises fulfilled, thanks to your modest artisan, his note-taking and dextrous ten-fingered typing. Tomorrow - tomorrow may well bring a celebration of Tang.
* I'm not going to apologise, I did warn you.
** Lots, actually.
*** Kind of.
^ Cornish stereotypes.
^^ This is probably a mixed metaphor. I don't care.
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