She lived in a huge and ancient magical mansion in the small Surrey town of Banstead. The windows were latticed with lead, and beams hundreds of years old crossed the ceilings. The fireplace roared while the wind howled down the chimney and we’d sit in what was probably the coziest lounge in England, eating Nan’s salad sandwiches (once you added lots of salad dressing they were fine) and watching TV game shows all night long: Play Your Cards Right, Game for a Laugh, Family Fortunes, the Generation Game, and so on. Every now and again we played board games or cards.
Nan was totally obsessed with the weather and she passed this obsession on to me. There always seemed to be something weird happening at her house. No sooner were we through the door than she’d be telling me in a suitably atmospheric voice as she waggled her fingers descriptively, “Just had some ball lightning here the other day, I was on the stairs just here and right outside the lead window there was a huge, dancing ball of light.”
For some reason there were always really, really bad storms at Nan’s house, it was as if she were Thora, the Goddess of Thunder and Lightning.
To make things even more interesting, her house was also full of ghosts and ghouls. Not the Rentaghost kind but proper horrors – the beheaded, drowned, and buried alive sort.
“I saw the Green Lady the other day,” she’d say, tucking my sister and me up in bed, “she walks the secret passage between here and the church,a she’s been ringing those bells again.”
These were the old servants’ bells; the masters of the house could call them from any room in the house, so if you rang the lounge bell, the bell under the sign marked “lounge” would ring in the servants’ quarters.
Guess where we slept? I looked up at the bells in horror and trembled as Nan continued.
“She moaned at me something horrible the other night, she did. She’s not at rest, you know. Gives me the chills.”
Then with a cheery “Goodnight,” spoken as if she’d just been talking about the price of cheese with the milkman, Nan switched off the light and shut the door with a solid “clunk.” I lay there staring at the bells, waiting for one of them to ring.
Any midnight trip to the bathroom was fraught with terror. I’d wait until the last possible moment before sprinting down the huge hallway, which seemed to me to be about the length and height of Westminster Cathedral, in what was a dramatic race against time.
Nan had been listening to the radio when a call went out for little people to appear in the new Star Wars film. She was unsure about telling Mum and Dad as I was still only eleven and she was worried it might be exploitative.
She thought it over for a couple of days before she eventually decided to call Mum, who was mopping the kitchen floor at the time. As soon as Mum heard the words “Star Wars” she immediately knew I’d want to do it. She knew I enjoyed acting as she’d recently started sending me to drama classes in an attempt to channel my extrovert energy.
Mum dropped her mop and called the studio straight away. “I’m sorry,” the production assistant said, “but we’ve been overwhelmed with calls, we’ve got all we need.”
Mum hung up. A few minutes later the phone rang again. It was the production assistant.
“How tall is your son?”
“Two feet eleven inches.”
“Could you bring him in?”
It was a wise move to have kept this secret from me until the last moment. My overexcitement at the prospect of being in a Star Wars movie would have been catastrophic for the Davis household. I nearly exploded with excitement as we drove there and talked incessantly the whole way.
Suddenly I was at Elstree Studios, auditioning for Revenge of the Jedi, as it was called then. Production assistant Patricia Carr was impressed by my lack of height; even for a little person I was short at two-foot-eleven.
“Well, George said we needed some little, little people to play Ewok children,” Patricia said, “and I think you’ll do just fine.”
My face lit up to sunbeam proportions.
“Right, then, you’d better head down to the wardrobe department and they’ll take your measurements for your costume.”
I led the way at a steady sprint, determined to reach wardrobe before anyone changed their mind. My face was a picture of wonder. Elstree was like Hogwarts, a huge, ever-changing, mysterious new world full of unexpected wonders. I hurried along the long white labyrinthine corridors desperate to see what lay in wait around the next corner. Everywhere people rushed about the building. I hoped to catch a glimpse of a Stormtrooper or Chewbacca strolling past, but was disappointed to encounter just one rather average-looking humanoid after another.
Wardrobe, as it turned out, was a misleading term for what most people my height would more accurately describe as a torture factory. My costume “fitting” actually involved the making of a full-sized body and head cast, which would be used as a mannequin by the costume makers. This is not an experience for the fainthearted, especially when it comes to taking a mold of the head.
Mum left me to it and went off to get a cup of tea. When she returned I heard a muffled scream, followed by “What have you done to my son?!”
I was stretched out, bound from head to foot in a bright white, full-body plaster cast. I’d been wrapped in plastic and covered in Vaseline before the plaster cast had been slapped on. Unlike my fellow little actors, I’d actually been enjoying the experience, although the challenge of staying still while everything set was extremely trying.
Every now and again, Mum would shout, “Are you okay in there, Warwick?” but because of the alginate (a milkshake-like substance more commonly used by dentists to make casts for dentures) over my ears I could barely hear or move my mouth and would reply with “Hummpff?”
One person was specifically employed to keep my nostrils – the only part of my head that was uncovered – clear from the runny gloop (sneezes or allergies can be lethal). Some people find the whole process unbearable; it’s not something for claustrophobes or asthmatics.
But while the older, more experienced creature actors shuddered at the thought of being turned into a human Twix, for me this was the most exciting moment of my life to date. Once the mixture had been molded on, it was reinforced with plaster bandages. When these were all dry, they were pulled off and I looked, fascinated, into an inverse copy of myself.
“Cool!”
“That’s the first time anyone’s actually enjoyed the experience,” said makeup artist Nick Dudman.
Before we started filming we were invited to go see The Empire Strikes Back (the second film in the trilogy) at a special screening at Elstree Studios. I hadn’t yet seen it and was surprised and fascinated by how dark it was; I was dismayed to see that it ended on such a grim note.
Good job I’d be on hand to sort it all out for the grand finale.
My first day’s filming was amazing. Up to that point I’d never met another little person in my entire life. When you’re young and as short as I am, you tend to feel as if you’re the only little person in the world. It was therefore a real magical moment for me when I walked into a studio to find forty people of similar proportions staring back at me. There was one other eleven-year-old, Nicky Read, who was just a couple of months older, and we became friends straight away. In fact, we all pretty much got on from the first moment, young and old, male and female. We all bonded over being short. Peter Burroughs, one of the older men there, would eventually become my father-in-law, poor fellow.
We were there to work with the choreographer on our fitness and “Ewok movement.” We had to learn to behave like primitive but feisty and furry forest dwellers. Soon all forty of us, dressed in tracksuits, were running around the studio growling at each other and anyone unlucky enough to stick their head around the door to see what was going on.
On the day I was due to pick up my costume and try it on for the first time, I could hardly contain myself. Most older actors looked at their Ewok costumes with utter dread. They saw the thick layer of foam, the full-body
fur suit, and shuddered, knowing that a long, hot, sweaty, and difficult few weeks lay ahead of them. All I could think about was that I was going to be fighting Stormtroopers all day long.
“Bring it on!”
It was beautifully made and only took five minutes to put on. I was one of the lucky ones because my costume actually fit really well and was among the most convincing. Some of the older, less fortunate Ewok actors looked like teddy bears. Teddy bears who had been run through cement mixers before being pounded repeatedly with cricket bats.
The heat in the costumes was truly extraordinary; Kenny Baker, who also played R2-D2, described wearing an Ewok suit as “like being poached.” Fortunately, you, dear reader, can only imagine quite how interesting the aroma in the Ewok dressing room was after six weeks of filming and no washing. I, however, still have those pungent memories.
Filming began in January 1982, one of the coldest English winters on record. Heavy snow had fallen several times throughout December and January. Temperatures dropped to a record-breaking minus-13 degrees Fahrenheit. We filmed on a set inside Elstree but our dressing rooms were trailers parked outside. Once the cry of “Heads off!” had been given and it was time for a break, forty Ewoks and one seven-foot Wookiee emerged from the building without their heads and walked toward the trailers. It was so hot inside the suits that little clouds of steam followed us as we walked. It was very refreshing for about thirty seconds before the cold really started to bite.
Nearly all the Ewok village scenes were shot at Elstree and there were some significant Ewok-related problems during quite a few of them. For example:
Han Solo: I’m sure Luke wasn’t on that thing when it blew.
Princess Leia: He wasn’t. I can feel it.
Han Solo: You love him,
[pause]
Han Solo: don’t you?
Princess Leia: Yes.
Han Solo: All right. I understand. Fine. When he comes back, I won’t get in the way.
Princess Leia: Oh, Han, it’s not like that at all.
[whispering]
Princess Leia: He’s my—
Random Ewok [rolling past screaming]: Aaaaargh!
George Lucas: Cut!
As far as forest-dwelling creatures went, the Ewoks were incredibly unstable. One of the main problems proved to be their orange eyes. As heat built up inside the head they steamed up, so none of us could see where we were going. Even a special antimist spray proved ineffective. In an attempt to get around this, we didn’t wear our heads during rehearsals and I memorized how many steps I needed to take for any one scene and roughly where each tree stump or branch was.
The Ewoks’ rallying cry was “Heads on!” followed by a grumble of discontent from everyone (except me). An army of dressers would fasten our heads and we’d cross two of our three Ewok fingers, hoping that we’d still be standing by the time it was all over.
Typically, at the end of any scene half a dozen Ewoks would be rolling around on the ground, having tripped up or fallen over something or someone, or having run into one another. Luckily I was able to get up on my own. When some of the more rotund Ewoks fell it was almost impossible for them to get up – or stop rolling. I had visions of some unlucky fellow carrying on down Elstree High Street still rolling strong on his way to the highway. Between filming normal-sized “Ewok collectors” were dispatched to set them upright ahead of the next take.
Falling over and rolling about on Endor was all well and good until we shot the scenes in the Ewok village, which was thirty feet above the ground.
This was done to give it on-screen depth, and the “village” set was created by mounting dozens of fake polystyrene trees on a mass of scaffolding that filled the entire stage (real tree branches were attached to help them look real). It was surrounded by a cyclorama, a painting of the Endor forest, to provide background. It was hard to tell what it was until you were far enough away. Little bridges connected all the Ewok huts – which, as I’ve already mentioned, were thirty feet above the ground.
To make things even more interesting, the Ewoks had lots of campfires, so the special-effects team burned lots and lots of incense to create a thick smoky haze, just to make sure we really, really couldn’t see a damn thing. The Ewok body count should have shot through the roof but the perilous combination of the height and the smoke actually had the effect of making us concentrate very, very hard on where we put our feet so, against the odds, we managed to stay upright.
While no Ewoks were harmed in the making of this movie, the same cannot be said for humans. There is a scene where Chewie, Han, Luke, C-3PO, and R2-D2 are walking through the forests of Endor and a hungry Chewie spies some meat hanging in a tree. Before Luke can say “Chewie – no!” the hungry Wookiee takes the bait and our heroes are caught in a classic jungle trap, scooped up in a net.
In reality, this net was held by a bloke driving an excavator. Several million dollars’ worth of acting talent were entirely at his mercy so one can only imagine the thoughts that must have whizzed through his brain when the rope snapped and the cast dropped to the ground. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt.
At the end of each take, my fellow Ewoks would collapse in sweaty relief. David Tomblin, the first assistant director (Spielberg’s favorite AD and George’s right-hand man) who was running the Ewok scenes, would then typically say: “Can we go again or do you need a break?”
While the older Ewok actors groaned and begged for thirty minutes’ rest I hopped up and down, eager to prove I was feeling fine, and pleaded: “Please can we keep killing Stormtroopers?” I had been told to throw a rock at a Stormtrooper and I wanted to make damn sure it was going to hit him – right between the eyes.
“Well, if he can do it,” David said, “and he’s only eleven, then you guys can too!”
I was christened the “ever-ready Ewok.”
As soon as our first break on our first day finally came, I dashed to the trailer, leapt out of my costume, and put on my roller skates. I skated past the Ewok stage and into the next building and there, looking just like the scene in the Mos Eisley spaceport in Episode IV, was a huge stage with the full-size Millennium Falcon.
I think I said something like “Woooooow” as I rolled past to the next stage where I suddenly found myself skating around the Emperor’s throne room. This was quickly followed by Yoda’s hut and the Degobah swamp (not the best place for roller skating), before I ended my tour at Jabba the Hutt’s palace.
Now this was really magical.
Unlike my older counterparts, I didn’t realize there were rules – written and unwritten – that governed one’s on-set behavior. You didn’t talk to or touch the stars, something I managed to do frequently.
Spying a certain Mr. Skywalker in his new all-black Jedi costume I tugged on his sleeve: “Excuse me. Can I see your light saber?” The young Jedi was very gracious about it.
Robert Watts, a delightful, avuncular, and much-respected producer on Jedi, took a bit of a shine to me and brought me to the attention of David Tomblin. David was a great character, a genuinely lovely man with immense experience and knowledge; he’d worked as assistant director to Stanley Kubrick and on such notable films as Never Say Never Again, Gandhi, Superman – the list was endless. He was also the mastermind behind the cult TV series The Prisoner.
When he was interviewed for a Channel 4 documentary, Six into One: The Prisoner File, in 1984, he recalled: “I have just worked on a George Lucas film called Return of the Jedi and, to get permission to work in the States, I had to write down every film that I had been on. I got to 478 and then decided that was probably enough to convince them that I had a reasonable amount of experience.”
One of David’s responsibilities in Jedi was “Ewok distribution,” and he couldn’t help but notice my tireless enthusiasm. He liked the fact I didn’t understand films, that I didn’t know the rules and wandered around during shoots chatting to the stars just like a curious Ewok would. These days, kids are a lot better informed ab
out how movies are made, but in 1982 I didn’t have a clue, and neither did anyone else my age.
I took what little I’d learned about improvisation from acting school, added some of our family’s pet dog’s behavior, and my Ewok character emerged to explore the Moon of Endor.
In one scene the Ewoks encounter R2-D2 and C-3PO and decide that the golden robot is a god.b I thought that R2-D2 would look so extraordinary to a young Ewok, who had after all seen nothing but plants and trees his whole young life, that he would want to check the robot out, so I wandered over and started poking and peering at him (I always assumed R2 was a he).
Size Matters Not: The Extraordinary Life and Career of Warwick Davis Page 3
