In books and other texts, declares Robert Sellers, Ealing Studios is usually examined from the viewpoint of the academic outsider, and the films themselves studied from the perspective of a critic mainly concerned with their cultural aspect and social bearing. That’s fine as far as it goes, he concurs, but there’s something else, and it hasn’t been explored in any real detail.
Primarily, what was it actually like to work there 9-5 for those unsung heroes who filled the roles behind the scenes – the secretaries, draughtsmen, clapper loaders, editors, production managers, assistant directors, et al, without whom Ealing couldn’t have functioned, let alone made films? These are the veterans he tracked down to share their memories.
Sellers has written more than 25 books on popular culture and the entertainment industry, covering topics such as cinema, theatre, television and music. He wonders why the Ealing people’s testimonies have scarcely been heard before. At the time and in subsequent years they perhaps weren’t deemed important enough, he says. Today, however, their voices offer a rare and unique glimpse into the inner sanctum of Britain’s most beloved film factory.
They recall how it was run day to day, the remarkable characters employed there, the fun and games that went on, the feeling of camaraderie and how those classic films were dreamt up and put together. The author found that remarkably, given it is so many decades since Ealing’s post-Second World War peak of perfection, there are former employees still alive but they are an ever-dwindling group, proving just how important it was to get them on record.
With a few exceptions, everyone spoke of their time at Ealing with a huge fondness. “There was never an unpleasant moment. I enjoyed all of it,” confirmed art director Norman Dorme. “I can’t think of anything else I wanted to do other than be in the film industry. I always thought it was so much better than working. It never seemed like work, ever.”
Maurice Selwyn, a runner/clapper loader, recalled: “My half days were a nuisance and Sundays were a nightmare,” he said, about his time off. “If I could have, I would have lived my life at the studio. I’d have worked there for nothing because I just loved every second of it.”
These comments and others in similar vein might suggest that the title of Sellers’ book is a little misleading, and a more accurate title would be “The Untold Life of Ealing Studios… ” rather than “The Secret Life… ”, which could imply risqué shenanigans coming to light. That isn’t so. Here is a nice straightforward homage with anecdotes to delight any cinephile.
The famous White House in Ealing Green, west London, that was the studio’s main building was bought by Will Barker, who had an interest in photography and cinematography, for filmmaking in 1902, and it was here that he made one of the first screen versions of “Hamlet” in 1910. Ealing predates not just places such as England’s Pinewood but the big studios of Hollywood. In fact, the cameras have never stopped, for the BBC 1955-2000, then a consortium, making it the world’s oldest continuously working studio for filmmaking.
The grade II-listed sound stages were opened in 1931, turning Ealing into the first purpose-built sound studios in Britain. This was a development under Basil Dean, who came from a theatrical background and set up his own company there, Associated Talking Pictures. But while Ealing was making its name with comedies featuring musical stars such as Gracie Fields and George Formby, too many other films were floundering at the box office, and Dean was forced out by the board in 1938.
Celebrated film producer Michael Balcon took over as Head of Production and began to issue films under the Ealing flag, ushering in the studio’s golden age. Balcon had already established himself as a figurehead of British cinema, for instance giving Alfred Hitchcock his first directorial assignment with “The Pleasure Garden” at Islington Studios in 1925.
A remarkable number of Ealing films made under Balcon over the next years remain cherished today as national screen treasures. He was the first British producer to invest high production values in comedy. The studios were equally instrumental and innovative during wartime in employing documentary filmmakers to create more realistic war films.
Sellers recounts how when war came in 1939, Ealing was inevitably affected and shifted from comedies and thrillers to providing short films with a propaganda flavour for the Ministry of Information and other government departments. Notable were “Went the Day Well” and “The Foreman Went to France” (both 1942) and “Undercover” (1943).
Postwar saw a burst of Ealing’s hallmark black comedies, satirising British life as it underwent rapid change. These classics include “Whisky Galore!”, “Passport to Pimlico” and “Kind Hearts and Coronets” (a triple triumph in 1949), “The Lavender Hill Mob” and “The Man in the White Suit” (both 1951), “The Titfield Thunderbolt” (1953) and “The Ladykillers” (1955).
These had an identity of their own with which the studio became associated, presenting an often dotty side of the British character, foibles that could be laughed at both by foreigners and the British themselves. Their success did much to establish the studio’s reputation around the world as the purveyor of gems of comedy, masterpieces of wit.
For Balcon the only sort of nationalism worth a damn was cultural nationalism and that definitely applied to films, and films that were absolutely rooted in the soil of the country. For the most part they reflected the country’s moods, social conditions and aspirations. They were also seen by many as a reaction against post-war restrictions and government-enforced austerity. The British public had had enough of it and wanted to throw off the shackles of wartime restrictions and move to greener pastures. As he said: “The country was tired of regulations and regimentation, and there was a mild anarchy in the air. In a sense our comedies were a reflection of this mood, a safety valve for our more anti-social impulses.”
Ealing was a happy place overall and usually Christian names were used. Balcon’s presence permeated the working atmosphere. He was stern but democratic and approachable. He was greatly respected and would tour the place daily, stopping to chat and banter with long-standing staff. Some had a grievance though, feeling an air of superiority around, hierarchical and class-ridden, and an assertion that if anyone left they’d struggle to find work outside. Actresses on the whole were shabbily treated, with an often conspicuous lack of solid parts.
The three unions could be troublesome too, as Sellers tells. The electrical union had an almost iron grip on production, capable of slowing down everything so as to get another hour’s overtime. Balcon too ruled with a firm hand but was loyal to his workforce and he expected loyalty in return. During lulls in production the staff were all retained, which didn’t happen elsewhere. Many felt that job satisfaction and security made up for the modest pay.
Balcon ran the studios until 1955, when they went out with a whimper. The BBC bought Ealing and iconic television shows were made there, such as “Cathy Come Home”, “Z-Cars”, “Colditz”, “Porridge”, “Monty Python’s Flying Circus”, “The Singing Detective” and “Dr. Who”.
In 1999 the British Film Institute surveyed 1000 people from the world of British film and television to list the greatest British films of the 20th century. Voters were asked to choose up to 100 films that were “culturally British”. Ealing Studios produced seven on the list, all between 1949 and 1955. Many of its productions offer a rare historical document of a forgotten part of English cultural history, and Sellers has many behind-the-scenes stories.
