CLOSE-UP CHAOS
Or
How we almost wiped the smile off a star’s face – forever.“Now this is the shooting gel. It’s highly toxic, so on no account is it to be used as toothpaste.”
I looked at the aluminium cylinder, identical to a toothpaste tube, but without any markings whatsoever.
“In fact,” continued the Unilever technical guy, “You don’t even discard the tube after use, bring it back to me.”
The shoot was to start the next day. Close-Up toothpaste. Fresh breath confidence. And, in the film, as usual, there was a tight shot of the red gel toothpaste on a toothbrush. A close-up of the Close-Up (sorry, couldn’t resist).
In the India of those far off days before sophisticated post-production facilities, if you wanted that glint on the blob of toothpaste, you bloody well spent hours lighting it up. And studio lights generate a lot of heat. And real Close-Up toothpaste melts.
Hence shooting gel – a chemical compound of the same colour and texture, but heat resistant.
I packed the shooting gel into my satchel, mentally cursing the agency film executive who was supposed to have picked it up – but he had pleaded with me to take the meeting as it was the last day of the Fellini film festival.
“Remember it’s seriously toxic,” called the technical guy, “Be careful with it.”
Now this particular Close -Up TV commercial was using a celebrity. The script I had written did not call for one, but as is Lever’s wont, they demanded one. And they won’t take no for an answer, either. It’s a failing of theirs.
I shall not name the celeb as he is still around – but he was a Great Big Star. A sports star, a movie star, a famous singer – it doesn’t matter, let’s just call him GBS.
I won’t bore you with details of the shoot; only the close-ups in the studio on the final evening. Close-ups of GBS smiling. White teeth a-gleam. Close-ups of the toothpaste tube; you know, the sacred pack shot. And close-ups of the product – or rather the shooting gel.
All went well. Finally, the director yelled, “Cut! Pack up!”
There was a sense of relief, and we stood around chatting, though the agency film executive left immediately, claiming that his buddy had a laser disc of Truffaut’s ‘Les Quatre Cents Coups’ and that he couldn’t wait to see it.
Too late I remembered that he was supposed to secure the shooting gel and return it to Unilever.
I ran to the table where all the Close-Up packs had been – we had brought half a dozen of the real ones for the pack shot. They were all gone. The aluminum tube of shooting gel was gone as well.
I turned to the agency account executive, “I think we have a problem.”
“Huh?” He was gazing worshipfully at the GBS who was at the far end of the studio, in deep discussion his handler, the talent management guy.
“The shooting gel is gone.”
“What?” The account exec knew about shooting gel, “I’ll ask the production people.”
After a quick interrogation by the assistant director, all the film crew denied having taken the toothpaste tubes.
“We only want the aluminum tube back,” said the account executive desperately, “You can keep all the others.”
Indignant denial.
Finally, a clue emerged from the spot boy, that silent young man who appears at your elbow with a cup of coffee when you really need it. He didn’t say anything, just inclined his chin at GBS, who was repacking his duffel bag at the far end of the studio.
“No!” cried the account executive.
Personally, I was not surprised. Some years earlier I had worked on Godrej, a refrigerator manufacturer that had (for a year or so) tied up with General Electric and had imported the first fridges with side-by-side doors. Hideously expensive in those days – over Rs 100,000. I had been sitting with a senior Godrej marketing man when a sales manager had interrupted the meeting to say there had been a phone call from A (a very famous film star) and that A wanted a further 5,000 discount on his purchase, and what should the sales manager do?
At that point I had concluded that celebs are just like us. They want discounts. They want the best deal. They want free stuff.
I was certain that the missing toothpaste tubes and the shooting gel was in the Great Big Star’s duffel bag.
The question was: Who’s going to bell the cat?
“I’m not going to do it,” I said, “I’m the copywriter and this looks like an account management problem.”
“Where the fuck is the film executive,” raged the account exec, “He should be handling this.”
“He’s probably discussing Truffaut Vs Bergmann at this moment, that’s a lost cause.”
“You do it,” said the account exec, “You don’t even like the guy.”
That was true. For some reason celebs at shoots always raise my hackles. And in the case of this celebrity, I was not a fan of (his sport/his movies/his music). Whereas the exec was besotted.
“Not my problem,” says I, “You’re the executive. Execute the recovery of the shooting gel.”
“You’re the senior representative of the agency,” says the wily son of a bitch.
“That man,” I said, indicating GBS, “Is the idol of a billion Indians. Every child over the age of six knows his name. DO Something!
We both trotted out of the sound stage in pursuit of GBS – all this was at Mehboob Studio in Bandra, Bombay, by the way. He was standing some distance away, clutching his duffel bag and waiting for his car to pull up.
Still the account exec hesitated, breathing fast, eyes wide, “We’ll ask the talent agency man to do it. Where’s the handler?”
The handler, of course, had disappeared.
A big black SUV rolled up and GBS opened the rear door.
“It’s now or never,” I murmured, “And a toothless star never goes down well with the masses.”
“SIR!” The exec leaped forward as if propelled by a giant spring, “Sir! I have to talk to you…."
I was at a distance and never heard the short conversation, but the duffel bag was unzipped and the account exec turned around. In his hand was an aluminum tube.
The GBS caught my eye (he knew who I was; I had corrected his pronunciation once or twice when he was doing his lines). He gave a look that clearly said, “Let he who has never pinched some product at a shoot cast the first stone.”
And he smiled.
And he is able to smile confidently to this day.
