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| STILL FAB: Gerry Anderson, creator of the Thunderbirds, came up with the idea after hearing about a real-life rescue mission into a collapsed mine. Picture: PA |
NICHOLAS BRIGGS
I may have been terrified by the Daleks on BBC1 back in the 1960s, but I had my biggest childhood thrills when ITV teatimes were rocked by the arrival of gigantic, fantastic flying machines, huge, fiery
explosions and the pounding beat of almost impossibly dramatic music. Writer, director and producer Gerry Anderson was in full
creative flow when he made the famous Thunderbirds. It thrilled a generation and has returned decade after decade in repeats that never fail to reignite the original excitement.
Thunderbirds and other shows from the Anderson stable, such as Supercar, Fireball XL5, Stingray, Captain Scarlet and Joe 90 were and are unique, because all their heroes were portrayed by puppets.
Marionettes on strings. Some of those strings are even visible. So why doesn't that matter?
Showing no sign of retiring, Gerry Anderson is still in his wood-panelled office suite at Pinewood Studios. Just across the way, the latest Bond movie is in production, alongside The Wolf Man, Lily Allen's new TV show, The Weakest Link, My Family oh, and The Day of the Triffids, too.
"Anyone who knows me will tell you, Gerry Anderson lives in his own world," he says, with a knowing smile. He takes me on a tour of his impressive memorabilia before we settle into elegant leather armchairs for a chat. Is that really Captain Scarlet's head? I'm too in awe to ask.
Despite his often-quoted disdain for Doctor Who, on learning of my Dalek voice credentials, Gerry smiles and is kind enough to say it was only the old show he didn't like, "because the sets wobbled". He's fairly impressed with the new Doctor Who and thinks the only thing that might give it a run for its money is, perhaps, a revival of one of his famous shows. I wonder which one ?
It's hard to believe that this restrained, polite gentleman with such a dry wit could be responsible for the creation of those old, bombastic puppet shows.
They were unashamedly big and brash, glorying in out-sized technology, nail-biting tension and explosive flames that now make you feel you've an idea when people realised we were running out of fossil fuel. Mayhem and disaster featured at every turn.
Gerry explains how he got himself into the "danger zone", as those Thunderbird pilots would say. He worked with the legendary film director Lewis Milestone (All Quiet on the Western Front).
"He altered my entire life," Anderson says. "He said, Would you like to become famous?' And I said, Yeah'.
"He then responded, Then you do what you want to do, don't listen to anyone else. Just do what you enjoy what you think is right. And if you do that, you will either become famous or you will be in a position where you'll have to become a green grocer.'"
"And that stuck in my mind,' he said. "So from that point on, I always did what I wanted to do."
Anderson set up AP films with some friends. At first, it was far from successful, but then he had a stroke of luck.
"One day, a lady by the name of Roberta Lee came to see me with a bag full of 52 scripts for the Adventures of Twizzle," explains Gerry.
Twizzle was a character who could extend his limbs and stand very tall. Gerry was quite excited by the idea until he was told it was a puppet show.
"I mean, puppets! I'd never seen a puppet!" He was clearly unimpressed. "But it was work, so we took it. And that's how it all started."
Almost immediately, he began to innovate ideas of how to make the settings and characters more realistic and three-dimensional.
"I was trying to make puppet films so good that a broadcaster or financier would say, He makes these superb puppet films! For goodness sake, give him some live action'. But the reverse happened. I got stuck with puppets."
After launching into space with Fireball XL5 in 1962 and diving under the sea with Stingray two years later, Gerry came up with his most famous idea, Thunderbirds. But, surprisingly, he's never been interested in science fiction.
"If I go to the movies, I rarely choose science fiction," he says. I never thought I was making science fiction. People thought I was. I just wanted to make pictures that were different to the run of the mill."
He describes his route into the world of technological fantasy in down-to-earth, personal terms.
"My brother was a mosquito pilot in the war. His aircraft was shot down over Holland and he was killed. I was called up to do my National Service after the war. I used to steer aircraft into the airfield. And that love of aircraft led me quite naturally to an interest in rocketry and the moon. Rocketry led me to space and to the future. Put that all together and you've got a Gerry Anderson picture."
It sounds like a simple equation, but I'm searching for the passion that drives Gerry Anderson, because he gives the impression that everything in his creative process is simply a tricky, practical problem to solve. He's more likely to talk about developing electronic lip-movement on puppets than enthuse about characters or stories.
But it's when we get to the inspiration for Thunderbirds that I begin to glimpse his magic. "I was making Stingray and was busy thinking about what I was going to do next," he says.
"There was a German mine disaster in the news. It was a massive story and ran on the radio for about three weeks.
"The mine was built under a lake. The ground gave way and the lake collapsed into the mine. There were about ten miners still alive, standing in freezing cold water in pitch darkness. But they found there was only one drilling machine with a bit large enough to drill to get them out. The trouble was that it was in Bremen and it was an eight-hour journey to get it to the site. I thought, why should they have to wait all that time to get the drill? They could have one big place with all the rescue equipment and fast aircraft to fly it all over the world. And that's how I came up with the idea for International Rescue and Thunderbirds."
And what a cracking idea it was. Enormous, gadget-festooned flying machines dashing across the globe and beyond from their secret paradise island hideaway, rescuing anybody in deadly peril. Millionaire Jeff Tracy headed up this family operation with support from his square-jawed sons, secret sexy agent Lady Penelope and her rough-diamond butler, Parker.
Anderson is still clearly enthusiastic about his life's work. "I had little or no education," he explains.
"In the RAF they classified me with a very, very low IQ. I came from a very poor family. I can't spell, even today.
"But for some reason or other - and I can't tell you why - if somebody said to me: make an action story about wasps' by tomorrow morning I'd have it ready. I just find it so easy. Everything else in my life I find difficult. I love my work, and, if I didn't, I'd have retired years ago."
But, he confesses, "I can only type with two fingers. I dictated the first episode of Thunderbirds in three separate parts. I only had a very rough idea of the story, but I have the advantage of being able to see the finished thing on the screen as I'm talking. Honestly, I can see it all."
What he perhaps couldn't have foreseen was the fate of his lovingly-crafted remake of Captain Scarlet in 2005.
"They ran it during a three-hour slot called The Ministry of Mayhem," he says, and gives a look which says it all.
"And they took Captain Scarlet, cut the front off the titles, cut the end titles and cut it in half without any reference to me. It wasn't even in the TV listings. Whenever they reached a dead spot in this show, they'd just say, Oh, let's have a look at Captain Scarlet', then halfway through an episode, it would just fade out and they'd say, Oh, it's time for another food fight!' They murdered the show."
But that's all behind him. There's new blood at the heart of ITV's commissioning and Anderson is optimistic about a return for another of his classic series. Maybe it could even be Thunderbirds. He reveals nothing. But I tempt him a little by asking how a new series for International Rescue might begin.
Suddenly, he's transformed. And as he speaks, describing every detail of a great opening scene, I'm transported back to my childhood. Like Gerry, I can see every shot, every detail. I can't even see the strings. And suddenly, I realise I never could.
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