What wasn’t so easy was to imagine that the film would ever get finished. Practically every other day there were rumours that the production was to close down. In all, I think, the company changed hands three times during the production. I heard about it and a few days before it was scheduled to shoot, rang Robin whom I had met briefly a short time before, and asked him if there was a part for me. He admitted that the main casting was complete but mentioned that the role of the Librarian was still up for grabs. I grabbed, and he directed me to Peter Snell who was just about to leave for Scotland. I didn’t hang about. Jumped into a taxi and dived across London to Swiss Cottage, where Snell was living. He gave me the job and a couple of weeks later I was freezing my bodice off in the Highlands. By and large we were a happy band of brothers. Admittedly, the sisterhood wasn’t up to much. Britt Ekland hated the place. Spent a lot of the time complaining about Peter Sellers and flouncing. From what I overheard Peter was being mean and outrageous and Britt was suffering because she was so calm and uncomplicated. To top it off she was pregnant. It might seem a tad unnecessary that Edward, about to be cremated in the Wicker Man, should be worried about the cold, but I suppose he did have the sharp end of the icicle as far as costumes were concerned. Up on the cliff top, in the face of the stiff offshore breeze, Edward’s clothes were designed for being burned alive in, not swanning around on a cold and frosty morning. Whenever the director called ‘cut’, Edward made a beeline for me and wheedled me into allowing him to put his icy naked feet up my skirt. Am I simple or what? Another story that does have some credence is that Christopher Lee, who played Lord Summerisle, the head honcho of the island, spent half an hour eulogising, on film, the merits of carnal love. To illustrate the subject, a couple of randy snails copulated on a ledge in front of him. Wonderful actors! It was good that scene was cut to a few seconds. Robert Hardy, the director, showed a macabre sense of humour when, later in the film, the snails are trodden on. The Wicker Man, basically, is based on a pagan Celtic rite to propitiate the Gods of the Harvest. Gods are keen on virgins but he/she has to submit willingly. Sergeant Howie is a policeman who flies in to look into the alleged disappearance of a local schoolgirl, Rowan Morrison. Naturally, as a devout Police Sergeant, he is intacta. After testing his moral fibre and finding him steadfast, the villagers lure him to the huge Wicker Man built on the cliff top and full of animals to provide the garnish to Howie’s barbecue. There is no last minute reprieve and Howie goes to a martyr’s death saying his prayers. Edward Woodward, who plays the Sergeant, said that although the burning didn’t faze him, he could have done without the captive animals above him. Excited by the unusual goings-on, they relieved the tension by peeing on his half naked body. The Wicker Man made a slow start when it was first released but was soon taken up on the college campuses of America by students looking for something different. Since then it has become one of the most discussed films of all time. Even the genre seems in doubt. Is it horror? Is it drama? Some sort of wild Sci-Fi? Or maybe a Musical? Whatever it is, it is still marching on. Which is more than can be said for the puerile attempt by Neil LaBute to muscle in on its fame. Maybe there is a soupcon of rancour at the sheer brazenness of trying to plageurise an icon. Or maybe I am just getting old and more ‘Indignant of Tonbridge’ -ish than I used to be?
