Behind the scenes: Of Mice and Men

Written by Caroline Baum

Week One: The Opera Centre, Sydney

I’ve heard film crews say Bruce Beresford is their favourite director to work with. On his first morning with the Of Mice and Men ensemble, he arrives in his signature trilby (also the name of one of his daughters) and places it on the production desk. Like Bob Katter’s akubra, it’s his totem.

He’s already been out for a kayak on Sydney Harbour to start the day. The energy he brings into the room is avuncular, easy, jokey. (He says later that looking that relaxed is just an act. I don’t believe him.) That open manner and self-deprecating charm help him get what he wants. How’s this for nerve? He called up Carlisle Floyd, the opera’s 85-year-old composer   and told him that because scene changes at the Opera House take time, he needed another minute of music for a transition. And he got it!

‘He was a bit taken aback at first’ concedes Bruce, adding ‘the general trouble with opera is there’s either too much music or not enough.’

As if this were not cheeky enough, he went on to persuade Floyd to let him cut a line. ‘I felt it telegraphed too much and preferred the element of surprise. He agreed.’

He talks from notes he’s made in a little Moleskine note book where he’s plotted out all his moves. ‘This is how I’ve done it on 28 films,’ he says, pacing in front of the cast, taking occasional sips from a cinnamon-laced coffee (Cath Dadd, his assistant director, carries an extra shaker of cinnamon for him, presumably for emergencies).

Already, as well as choreographing who goes where, he’s on to the details. The two leads, Lennie and George, need bed rolls that can also hold plates, cutlery and tins of beans. ‘Like swagmen,’ says Bruce. ‘Anyone seen the 1938 film? The bedrolls in that look just right.’

Anthony Dean Griffey, a four time Grammy winner and the lyric tenor who plays Lennie, the simple soul in what has become a signature role, looks unconvinced about the beans. He’s like a bigger, beefier version of Philip Seymour Hoffman, a hulking presence. He’s sung in so many productions of the opera that he’s consulted like a living archive. Bruce checks with him ‘Did you do this in Houston?’ which soon becomes ‘Forget what you did in Houston’.

There’s a bit of stage business for George (Barry Ryan) that will involve looking for sticks and building a fire.

‘Will it smoke?’ asks Barry, looking mildly concerned. 

‘Oh, baritones!’ Cath teases.

The piece involves a dog. Bruce says he’ll bring in his red heeler, Frankie. The stage mutt needs to be a bit past it and lame. ‘I’ll tell my wife to stop giving Frankie her arthritis pills to make her more decrepit,’ Bruce jokes.

‘Does anyone smoke?’ he asks. There’s unanimous shaking of heads. ‘It’s like Streetcar all over again!’ sighs Bruce (he wanted smoking in that production for authenticity’s sake).

‘Did you smoke in the Houston production?’ he asks Anthony. Anthony shakes his head ‘Not allowed.’ Bruce shakes his head in disbelief.

‘Well I will want one of you to roll your own (Andrew Jones as Slim volunteers) and some chorus to smoke,’ he says. ‘We’ve got a couple of Chinese we are turning into Mexicans, maybe we can get them to do that.’

‘Anyone ever pitched horseshoes?’ he asks as he progresses through the scene. ‘I made a film last year in the Hudson Valley (Love, Peace and Misunderstanding with Jane Fonda)

and there were still people doing it in small towns. It doesn’t look that hard, a bit like quoits. I guess we’ll soon find out, it’s probably impossibly difficult,’ he laughs.

‘Can we use your hair rather than a wig?’ he asks Jacqueline Mabardi, who plays Curley’s wife, the source of the piece’s tragic outcome. ‘I don’t want her to look too brassy, she’s just a simple, not too bright, rural girl, but I don’t want her to be knowing,’ says Bruce when Jacqueline tells him the wig she’s been fitted for is rather platinum. It would be a shame not to use her very striking coppery mane.

‘And guys, while we’re on the grooming, don’t shave, I want you stubbly.’

As soon as he's finished presenting his overall moves, the first rehearsal begins. Lennie and George, fleeing a posse of men, run on, hiding and making camp for the night. 

‘You could try eating the beans now,’ Bruce suggests.

‘Not right before I sing,’ Anthony replies.

Smoke and beans. Who’d have thought they’d matter so much?