The final scenes they wanted to take were of me using the electron microscope. This had been the sole topic of conversation amongst the analytical services department for the previous month. Everyone was buzzing with excitement and some had even worn their smartest clothes for the occasion. One technician was so excited that he couldn’t work in the morning. The last time I saw him like this was when he had to demonstrate the microscope to a bunch of high school girls and he was shaking so much that he couldn’t focus it properly.
The first problem was that there weren’t enough pairs of slippers to go around and whilst the crew began to pile boxes and boxes of gear outside the building, the technicians went on a desperate “hunt the slipper” expedition around site. Eventually, enough slippers were tracked down and I showed the director the room with the microscope. He immediately went into a fit and began dismantling the shelves and door. The poor technician, who even by Japanese standards, was of a nervous disposition, was almost sobbing in the corner as his precious equipment was flung around. I don’t know what he was more worried about, losing his precious microscopes or that the director would make a pass at him.
The entire staff of the building were now gathered around the door, the crew were busily laying cables everywhere, crowd control man was fighting a loosing battle and Black Paddy was lurking somewhere in the shadows with the Planning Department guy offering the crew helpful tips on how to do their job. Finally they were ready to take the footage. Thirty seconds of filming had only taken the best part of an hour to set up, and had reduced the best part of a million dollars of microscope to mobile ashtrays in the corridor.
We rehearsed for about half an hour, but I was not sure exactly what they wanted me to do. My stand-in kept showing me what to do, but obviously I was being a bit dense because each time I messed up the crew got more and more irate with me (in that lovely Japanese way of theirs of showing anger – sucking their teeth and making sighing sounds simultaneously) and we had to keep repeating the shot. Although some of the onlookers spoke perfect English no one could translate for me. This would have meant that they were, by Japanese standards, showing off, and this would have embarrassed everyone. Instead, I spent the next hour getting abused by the director, towel man and even the cable guy joined in at one stage.
Eventually they got their shot and after much bowing and kow-towing to the Planning Office they left. I found the technician slumped in the corner clutching a box of samples almost in tears. Between sobs, he told me, that all things being equal, he much preferred working with school girls. I couldn’t help but agree.
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