Heath Ledger’s Directorial Debut – Raindance

January 2005: Hot Aussie summer. I was scrolling through my emails and came across one requesting volunteers to help out on a music video.

It was to be produced in Sydney and starred N’Fa, who, at the time, was the lead singer of Australian hip-hop group 1200 Techniques.

The production company was Babyfoot Productions, and the producer was Michael Gracey, who went on to executively produce Rocketman and direct The Greatest Showman.

No one at the time would have suspected Michael would become a successful film director/producer. Having said that, it wasn’t the first time I had found luck working with people who went on to work on successful projects.

The first feature film I did was an Australian indie called The Sugar Factory, back in the 1990s. The second AD on that was James McTeigue, who went on to direct V for Vendetta. The Director of Photography was Andrew Lesnie, who went on to be the cinematographer of Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movie trilogies: 17 Oscars across 30 nominations in just three films, and winning all 11 of its nominations for one film is phenomenal.

Actually, what’s funny is that Andrew came on set on a short film I worked on. I was production manager at the time, and he came up and said he enjoyed filming me in I Am Legend. I was never in such a film and said I thought he meant The Sugar Factory. No. He was adamant… I didn’t want to ruffle the feathers of an Oscar-winning cinematographer and lightly brushed it aside with a change of topic.

The name Heath Ledger didn’t ring a bell. It was marked down as the director. I knew who Heath the actor was, but at that point in time, I assumed this was a case of ‘John Smith’; another random person with the same name.

What grabbed my attention was the chance to work on a music video. I had never been in one before. So, I applied.

Come that morning, I was off early. Caught the train, all nervous, and stopped off at Wynyard station to grab a Maccas breakfast (Maccas stands for McDonald’s in Australia). Unhealthy, I know, but it was a ‘superstition’ practice I did when I wanted to feel confident. I don’t do it all the time, just once, twice… (oh come on, who wouldn’t want fresh hotcakes drizzled in maple syrup?!)

To rid myself of the guilt, I walked the rest of the way to Darlinghurst, which was the specific suburb in Sydney for the production. I think, from memory, it was the Exchange Hotel where we filmed. I could be wrong, because the Lizard Lounge also rings a bell, but either way, it was one of a number of pub hotels along Oxford Street. The famous one for Sydney’s Mardi Gras parade every year.

Upon arriving, I remember hearing and seeing a lot of crew members already busy constructing the set. I ran up a set of stairs, where I was told the director was. Still, a lot of busy work with crew members. Was I in the right place? I went up to a small group of crew members and asked for the director. One of them, in green overalls and a cap, turned around, stood up and shook my hand with a genuinely happy smile. It was Heath Ledger. He introduced himself and thanked me for coming on board to help. I couldn’t believe it. Usually, a director would not be in the practical, hands-on situation of working, but Heath was. He was inconspicuous with his outfit, and anyone could have easily missed him being there. But the work didn’t faze him.

The stylish contemporary facade of the pub hotel gradually transformed into a 1920s speakeasy gambling parlour. A group of real musicians came in to act as a small band for the film shoot. Argentinian dancer Carolina Cerisola was flown in from the USA to star as the waitress and seductress to N’Fa. She had previously performed with music artists such as Prince and was in Justin Timberlake’s music video Señorita, HBO’s series Entourage and David Lynch’s movie Inland Empire. Heath had seen her in the burlesque nightclub Forty Deuce, famous for its entertainment shows.

Mark Nutkins was the cinematographer and camera operator, whom I worked with again in Brixton for a Gregory Porter music video some years later.

Australian film crews are known to be quite hard-working and productive. I’m not being biased here; it’s just a consistent sensation I have always felt in terms of vibe, environment and pace. It’s like strolling through a busy marketplace where everyone is doing something and progress is happening before your eyes like a bubbling pot of stew.

We often hear that directors are known for their distinct approach. Whether they are quiet and almost ‘non-existent’ , dictatorial and brutally honest, or a mixture of lots of things. I have never met anyone before or after like Heath. He was quite different.

Enthusiastic, with a high-octane energy. Creative and productively involved. Imaginative. Specific. Unselfish. Affable. These are some of the words I would use to describe Heath.

If you watch the music video, there is a shot showing casino chips falling from Carolina’s tray, raining down and scattering across the floor. I remember watching it in preparation; Heath was lying on his back on the floor with a camera, asking for the chips to fall.

He was in his element. Throughout the intimate set, Heath was ‘dancing’ to and fro from one area to another. Giving suggestions along the way, tweaking things here and there, and coming up to extras and crew to personally thank them for helping out from time to time.

I’ll never forget the moment when Carolina specifically asked me to look after a bowler hat she needed to wear. I lost it. We all had to search for it. I thought I was going to get fired or yelled at, or at least reprimanded in some way. None of it happened. Instead, Heath laughed it off and said to continue on. My first time helping out. I think the guilt of carelessness was just enough to take it as an important lesson in responsibility.

Lunchtime came. Food, glorious food. Or craft services, as Americans love to call it.

The choice was quite simply staggering. A glorious, seemingly endless feast, with something to tempt every taste and satisfy every imaginable craving. There were gleaming platters of beautifully fresh seafood, succulent lobster and delicate shellfish, alongside steaming displays of rich, Italian-inspired pasta dishes, tender roast meats carved into generous slices and a colourful abundance of vegetarian and vegan dishes. Crisp, jewel-bright salads overflowed with fresh, plump tomatoes, crunchy lettuces, carrots and vibrant dressings, while an array of warm breads, cheeses, roasted vegetables, savoury sides, sauces and accompaniments seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

Not even the sunken McDonald’s hotcakes could stop me with this. The desserts were a spectacular world of temptation all on their own. Tables groaned beneath the sheer abundance of luscious cheesecake, chocolate cake, vanilla cake and coffee cake, feather-light mousses, glossy fruit tarts, delicate pastries, éclairs bursting with cream, dainty macarons, fudgy brownies, profiteroles, creamy puddings and exquisite little sweets.

But taking pride of place among all this sweetness was the magnificent chocolate fountain, with ribbons of warm, velvety chocolate cascading hypnotically down its tiers.

Am I mythologising lunchtime? Most likely, but I will say this. You know when a great meal experience was had. Catering for film, big or small, is a lot of hard work. I’ve had situations of chopping up fruit, vegetables and meats for breakfasts, lunches and dinners for films, serving meals for cast and crew, taking coffee and tea orders, and scraping down, washing and drying plates. So, to say the experience was amazing meant that it was a bloody great experience. I will never forget it. Also, Heath would know from his own experience on film sets what made the cast and crew happy.

Heath paid for all of this out of his own pocket. That’s what I remember some crew members telling me. The marquee setup was in Hyde Park, only a little walk from the location. Some people came up and asked if a function was going on.

Generosity is an understatement; it reflected how much Heath cared. He wasn’t simply directing another music video. This was a personal passion project. As I said earlier, Heath was in it at all levels. He wanted to take part as a crew member. I learnt that he would be one who mopped up the floors and took out the garbage, bought props and secured production sites with producers, and took on more than what was considered a directing role.

But during lunch, he was nowhere to be found. Instead, when I went back, Heath was in a room, filming N’Fa on his experience working on the music video. He was always with a camera. He was in the zone of creative productivity.

There was nothing hocus-pocus about Heath’s directing. No deep psychological discussions. His directions were simple, practical and easy to understand. His energy was active rather than cerebral.

I learnt some valuable things simply by watching how he communicated, and I have taken some of that approach into how I work with actors and crew myself. Highly valuable to see Heath direct.

At the end of the shoot, Heath took the moment to give a decent speech, thanking everyone, and admitted that this was the first time he had directed. All of us were astonished at his natural skills.

After it was all done, we went back to our daily lives. Although, I will say, Heath was the impetus for me to go to film school and take on the pathway of being a crew member and behind-the-scenes creative.

Looking back, I don’t think anyone realised how rare the moment was. We knew Heath Ledger, the actor. The Hollywood star who had a track record of diverse lead roles. Few people got to see Heath Ledger as a director. Only six publicly known films label him with the title, and no doubt, he would have transitioned easily into the director’s chair on many other film projects.

I’m not in a position to hand out advice about volunteering. But I will say, the potential for a rare occasion to happen is there. Since then, I have had other rare voluntary situations.

I worked in assistant positions for actors such as Maggie Smith and Idris Elba, got involved in events starring Elizabeth Taylor, Arnold Schwarzenegger, film composer Ennio Morricone, fashion designer Gianni Versace and media executives Barry Diller and Rupert Murdoch, and during a brief moment of being a runner, had a rare chance of witnessing Philip Seymour Hoffman work as a theatre director. Coffee, muffins and Bondi Beach were three things he loved when I had a chance to briefly talk with him.

Sometimes, the tables turn, and rare moments of volunteering come from people you’d least expect.

I was in a Sydney comic-book store where two people were signing comics. One of the men asked if I wanted him to autograph a Superman comic. I said, ‘No, it’s OK,’ much to the horror ofsome fans nearby.

One of them asked, ‘You know who he is, right?’

I didn’t.

‘He’s Richard Donner. Superman!’

Now, once again, my naivety and ignorance came into play. I obviously had watched Superman when I was younger, but I never took note of who directed it. And, at that moment in the comic store, I stupidly assumed that Richard was the creator of the Superman comic. Because, let’s face it, it is an old comic, and secondly, Richard did look like an old man.

I don’t know how, but Richard and I started chatting. I think he was amused by how clueless I was. It’s not every day you strike up a conversation with the director of Superman. Richard told me that he was in Sydney mainly to consult on Green Lantern, the one starring Ryan Reynolds. This was 2008. At that time, plans for Green Lantern were for Fox Studios in Sydney, now taken over by Disney Studios. Later, it went back to filming in the USA.

I told Richard that, amongst other things, I taught acting at a few youth performing arts schools in Sydney, and immediately, without the idea being raised, Richard offered to come in and give a lesson. I immediately said, ‘We can’t pay,’ but he said that it was a one-off, and not to tell anyone, but he would be leaving for America in a few days and it would be a joy for him to do it.

I instantly said yes, and without hesitation, he gave me his own mobile number, and I gave him mine. That was the sheer trust Richard had. No security concerns, no worry. Simple exchange of numbers.

The opportunity was set, but executing it was a challenge. I taught at a few performing arts schools on Saturdays, Richard was to leave for America on Sunday, and the day I was told, I think, was either a Thursday or Wednesday. I can’t remember, but it left no time to organise it.

Unfortunately, the one school which I thought would really say yes blocked the opportunity due to that dreaded, but necessary, bureaucratic tape of child protection laws. There had to be approval after verification checks, and even though I said it was Richard Donner, the director of the performing arts school said that rules had to be rules. I understood. You win some, you lose some. I was crushed because, at that point, Richard was messaging and phoning me from time to time, asking for updates.

After some frantic organising, I managed to arrange a session for three senior high-school students.

This was all meant to be hush-hush. Understandably so, because if any word got out, there would be media all over. Secondly, it had to be a free session due to the visa requirements Richard was on.

Richard watched the first half of my lesson, which made me a nervous wreck. Here was the director of Superman, Lethal Weapon and The Goonies watching me teach acting.

Then he took over.

His approach could hardly have been more different from Heath’s. Richard spoke quietly with individual students, almost privately. He was genuine, warm and easy to trust, and somehow got them to reach places in their acting with extraordinary ease.

I was a sponge, taking it all in.

Richard was directing, but it didn’t look like directing. It seemed effortless.

That is something I later recognised in other great directors. Sometimes the best guidance can almost slip past you if you aren’t paying attention. You simply feel its effect and naturally move towards what the director needs.

It was only an hour that I got to teach alongside Richard, but in reality, it felt like he was giving me a masterclass.

The only regret I have, which is something due to my ADHD, is that Richard gave me a copy of a Superman comic and signed it. He handed it to me in a brown paper bag and wrote an endearing message on it. I lost it on the train when I was going back that night. Never to be found again… Sigh.

I learnt some important things from observing Richard, and it’s not like you can write them down and teach them as if it were maths. Some lessons are instinctual, sensory, explorative. In fact, at times, I have provided a helpful tip and realised, ‘Ah-huh, I got this from someone else.’

Even now, I sometimes give someone a piece of advice and suddenly realise, ‘Ah-huh, I got this from someone else.’

I say, if you volunteer, take in the experience as it happens. Don’t worry about ‘climbing the ladder, making potential contacts’ as an agenda. Just be in the moment, because sometimes, rare things take place.

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