Remembering Allen Guilford

Guilford, Allen Edward. Suddenly, on Tuesday 10 March 2009, at Middlemore Hospital…

In lieu of fl owers, donations to The Cancer Society, PO Box 1724, Auckland, would be appreciated…

“Tragically in 2003 Guilford was involved in a terrible road accident in which he lost an eye. The recovery has been a long and arduous process, but Guilford has maintained his courage and desire to work if at all possible…

It seems clear that Allen Guilford still has a great deal to contribute to New Zealand fi lm-making.”

Duncan Petrie in SHOT IN NEW ZEALAND - The Art and Craft of the Kiwi Cinematographer, 2007.

IMDB (Internet Movie Database) records three film awards to Allen for Best Cinematography:

1999 - “What Became of the Broken-Hearted?”

1997 - “The Climb”

1993 - “The Footstep Man”

Also known for:

The Lord of the Rings - “The Fellowship of the Ring”, “The Two Towers”, “The Return of the King”.

Allen was also awarded “Best Camera” in the 1999 NZ TV Awards (when the film and TV awards were still separated) for “The Chosen” - a quinella in that year, you might say… while the website www.tv,com lists his gender as “Female”.

Thomas Burstyn

I met Allen Guilford in 1981 on the set of Lost Tribe, directed by John Laing. Back then Allen was a first assistant. To this day I have never worked with an individual so competent, so witty and so up for whatever needed to be accomplished. He was a stalwart man with a gentle heart and a dry sense of humour.

I came from Canada to shoot Lost Tribe, and was concerned about the kind of reception I might receive as the sole foreigner on an entirely Kiwi production. Allen led the way in making me feel welcome and consequently we spent much time together on and off the set. He shall remain in my memory as one of the finest gentlemen I have ever had the honour to have known.

Donny Duncan

Fond memories of Al Guilford:

The ubiquitous classic Jag and the ever-present cheese-cutter cap all through the eighties and nineties, like some mad cross between Stirling Moss and Andy Capp.

The urban-myth-but-obviously-true story retold by Kate White at his funeral service. In London, at an elegant dinner party many years ago, Allen reached over and plucked an annoying thick hair out of the mole on an aristocratic woman’s face – to her absolute horror, as she had been cultivating it for years!

Allen introducing me to the music of Peter Rowan and the Free Mexican Airforce, many years before “Americana” roots music became popular – and I still have the CDs and listen to them.

The story about Allen’s flat up a long steep set of steps in Berhampore, Wellington. One Sunday morning he stepped outside to find that someone who held a wee grudge against him (and we won’t go into THAT story here) had dumped a trailer load of animal manure, from one end to the other!

Allen’s great humanity and passion for a good story, when he put everything on the line (financially and emotionally) for many years, to make a documentary about his good friend Peter Bird, who was attempting to row solo across the Pacific Ocean. Bird made it from San Francisco to within a quarter-mile of Great Barrier Reef, before being rescued by the Australian Navy. Sadly, he died in 1996, attempting to row West to East across the Pacific.

Go well, Allen – high time we had a dram of finest malt in your honour, to celebrate your love of life and all its wonderful adventures.

John Mahaffie

Allen Guilford - Cinematographer - Legendary Friend

It is an impossible task to sum up the life and influence of a friend and colleague in just a few paragraphs. But Al’s unique and humble contribution to the New Zealand film industry should never be forgotten, nor underestimated.

Al began his work in the industry as a cinematographer on documentaries, both in New Zealand and Europe. He pioneered the early days of NZ TV drama and feature films. He was one of a generation of cinematographers who first prompted international producers to recognize the high calibre of technical expertise available in this country. We, the industry, will be forever indebted to the quiet achievements of Al and the others in those early days.

As a young focus puller, I first met Al on commercials, and admired his abilities and his relaxed approach to his work. Al was famous for his funny stories, shared any chance there was a break in filming.

Allen and I continued to work together over the years on projects such as the Worzel Gummidge series. I was his camera operator. As an aspiring cinematographer myself, I had the opportunity to closely observe Al, ‘the master,’ as I operated for him on the five-month shoot. Furthermore, I enjoyed the man’s company, curries, and humour as we shared a house in Brooklyn.

I remember leading actress Una Stubbs (“Aunt Sally”) suffering terribly, needing to stay close to the bathrooms all next day on set, after joining us for dinner and one of Al’s famous curries (“mild” I believe he promised her on the invitation).

In later years Al and I worked alongside each other as cinematographers on Hercules and Xena. Although the more experienced, Al was always very gracious.

I truly valued the chance to discuss lighting/camera interpretations and techniques as colleagues. Those who knew Allen found him always to be the first to congratulate and praise others on their achievements; and the first to make light of his own, including many hilarious stories at his own expense.

For me, it was a great honour to have my dear friend Allen join me as my cinematographer for the latter part of the marathon Lord of the Rings shoot. We found ourselves enveloped in the biggest epic trilogy the NZ industry had ever imagined. As a fairly fresh Second Unit Director, I certainly had my share of challenges. Allen’s usual gracious enthusiasm never waned, even though we had all been shooting for nearly a year at that stage!

I was so appreciative of his full support. That time with Allen was a privilege that I valued at the time, and even more so today. As it turned out, that was the last time we were to work together on set, with Allen’s accident robbing us of the chance to do more.

I had begun my career years before with Allen as my boss and mentor, and very quickly a dear friend.

Kevin Riley

(Chairperson, NZCS)

It’s with great sadness that members of the New Zealand Cinematographers Society acknowledge the passing of one of our most esteemed members. Allen Guilford was truly a craftsman of cinematography, who shared pearls of knowledge and wit with many of us in his own dapper fashion, with the occasional cheeky grin.

We will continue to celebrate his great talent and passion for cinematography; and our heartfelt condolences go out to Sandy and their children.

Leon Narbey

Whether the light came from the window, the door, or the lamp above, his visual approach was always towards naturalism, but usually a heightened sense of naturalism. He had an acute understanding of where that light should come from, and he loved big lights way back and beyond, shafting through frames and windows.

He also went for contrast, letting the face go into shadow with just the touch of an eye-light to work the eyes. You can see this magic in the meal scene of The Footstep Man, where he was my Cinematographer on that film.

We kept looking at the paintings of Toulouse-Lautrec (who was the subject of that film, and whose paintings were in some ways storyboards for the film), but we found his portraits flat and linear. It was in the paintings of Degas where he found a quality of light that we all went for. With make-up and costume checks, Allen fired off some stills of the actors and actresses. He had a 2.5K lamp heavily diffused through the window, and it came in at eye level and right angles to their faces. It had a soft wrap-around effect, which became the look of the film.

Allen had elaborate operating skills and understood a scene’s needs. As I mentioned at Al’s funeral, there was an important scene where he constructed a scheme to pan, track, and zoom more than 180 degrees with the actors, and it became a scene-in-one. The languid observing nature of his lens had taken on the mood of Mireille’s (Jennifer Ward-Lealand’s) troubled soul.

When Allen was my Operator for Gaylene Preston’s Ruby and Rata, he would kindly pick me up every morning en route to the location in Mt Albert. What was special was old blue Jaguar. He loved old stylish things, including his hats, scarves, and old squeaky leather jackets - and a 1940’s black telephone in his home at Rose Street, a phone that only just worked, accompanied with crackles and pops on the line.

After his car accident, Al never gave up on his art. Against all odds, he was determined to continue as a Cinematographer.

I last worked with Allen on Justine Simei-Barton’s short film The Trophy. I operated for a day or so, as did Ginny Loane. He sat at the split-monitor with his magnifying glass, observing our every move and giving quiet instructions for the lighting. His continuing excellence showed as the film was included in the Berlin Festival.

His twinkling eyes, his half-smile, and his raw wit will be sadly missed by us all.

Peter Janes

I met Allen years ago when we worked for the NZBC (or TVNZ, I can’t remember what it was called then). We were both cameramen, shooting news, current affairs, documentaries, Country Calendar and other programmes of the time. Like me, he started as a soundman.

Years later, I was trying to seduce Kate White - then a sound recordist - but she fancied Allen, so we all hung out socially. Very civilised. I wasn’t surprised really; he was a handsome, charismatic, charming man, with a dry wit. If I’d been a woman (and some say I dress like one sometimes!) I could have fancied him. He was inspirational at work and a joy at parties.

We stayed in touch over the years, and after his accident I’d try and see him every time I worked in Auckland. As a visual person, it must have been devastating to lose his sight, and I can’t imagine his frustration.

At his funeral, a DVD showed some of his work, spliced with pictures of him at the lens - great images - while Van Morrison sang. Leon Narbey described working with Allen, and in particular, on one shot that Allen had composed for a movie, The Footstep Man. To me it sounded like poetry, and Leon had obviously loved working with him. Kate White gave a moving speech describing the four-letter words in Allen’s life - hate, (never used) and love. He loved many people, and in my experience, as the Beatles said: the love you take is equal to the love you make. He was loved.

The service seemed to be cut short, and I was told later that another funeral was happening that afternoon. Allen would have seen the humour there – not the first time he’d had to hurry up because of a tight schedule!

We reconvened at the homestead in Pukekohe, a beautiful spot. It was a wonderful afternoon; I saw many old friends and other luminaries of the industry. But, as it is with funerals, the person you most want to talk to is missing.

I will miss you, Allen.

Tony Forster

It’s quite a few years ago now; we were in Queenstown filming the Kiwi portion of a children’s tele-feature for an Aussie company. I was still pretty new to being a First AD – and to film-making generally, it must be said! – and this was the first time I had worked with Allen Guilford.

The mix of somewhat arrogant Aussies and a few Kiwis more used to big TVCs than TV drama budgets (“Why can’t we just chopper the gear in?”) was proving a little heady for me, and Allen was somewhat sleep-deprived with a new child as I recall. But we were getting there.

One mid-morning we arrived at a huge old boatshed, chocker-block full of marine wrecks and all sorts of debris – perfect for the kids’ story, but “God,” I thought, “This’ll take forever just to work out how to light it!”

After we’d blocked the scene, I trundled off to the drinks table, preparing myself for a long wait. For some unfathomable reason, even accounting for my inexperience, I’d neglected to consult Al on how long lighting might take… But I hadn’t even got the milk into my tea when I got a call on the radio saying, “He’s ready!”

I rushed back into the shed, feeling somewhat caught out and embarrassed, to see that the huge total of two lamps had been rigged – and those two perfectly-placed lamps lit all the action areas with subtle shafts of light, and had turned a gigantic monotonal pile of meaningless rubbish into a magical playground of shadows and soft, ethereal slivers of dusty moonbeams…

My first insight into why people regard Allen Guilford as a genius.

Alun Bollinger

… in memory of Allen Guilford …

March, 2009 – Another dear colleague departed…

Dear Al, may you rest in peace. Your departure was not entirely untimely. We all wish you were still with us, Al, but you’ve had some tough stuff to deal with over the past several years, and, as it’s turned out, it’s now time to take a rest. Your contribution to this little industry of ours has been enormous, Al.

Your generosity with knowledge, your generosity of spirit, your calmness, your wit, will be long appreciated. Even those of upcoming generations, though they may not know from whence it came, will be appreciating that film-makers’ spirit in their working environment. Yes, I do believe that generosity of spirit is catching, and you’ve infected quite a few of us over the years, Al. Thanks heaps.

We’ve been missing Al from the workplace for some time, six years in fact, since he had a car accident on his way home from work one evening. It seems he went to sleep at the wheel just minutes from home. Al could have lost his life that evening but he pulled through. He pulled through but with almost total loss of sight. A cruel blow to a man who loved his work behind the camera, loved it and was bloody good at it.

That was a tragic loss for Allen, and a sad loss to our industry. It must have been an extraordinarily tough time for Al’s family. I pray that Al’s family and loved ones heal well after their loss and are able to move on with courage and strength. Kia kaha. Life can’t get any tougher for Al now.

Bye, Al, thanks again… With love from us all.

Annie Frear

For Al:

He had the wickedest eyebrows. XX