APPENDICES

Journey Days by Bert Tougas

Stories: I have stories. Stories of every rank and kind. What do you want? Adventure, love, near death experiences, film education, jealousy, conspiracy etc... All the things that went into the most unbelievable experience of a lifetime. That’s what “Journey” was to all of us.

In the summer of 1971 I had just graduated college at Loyola with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Communications. It was the best summer of my life.

A friend, Charles Braive, informed me that a feature film was about to be shot in Quebec and that they were looking for “Gofers”, today’s production assistants, for the preproduction portion in Montreal. He asked if I had a car and I said I did. Well, I didn’t. But my retired father certainly did and I cajoled him into lending it to me for the remaining two weeks of prep. It was a nice car. So nice that besides my day-to-day duties as gofer, I kind of became Geneviève Bujold’s unofficial chauffeur. So here I was, twenty-one years old, driving around the most beautiful woman in the world, working for the hottest director in town, and actually employed in the film business in my home town. Not bad for a kid from Verdun.

My last duty in “prep” was to pick up a generator from the equipment rental house and drive it up to Tadoussac, where filming on “Journey” was to begin in a week. The plan was to drop off the “gennie”, stay overnight and take the bus back to Montreal the next day. A room had been booked for me at the Hotel George and early the next morning I drove out to the location to drop off my load. As I was waiting for a lift back to town I was in awe of all the frantic activity going on around me. I noticed someone signaling me out of the corner of my eye. It was Anne Pritchard, Montreal’s top costume designer, with her sleeves rolled up and arms purple up to the shoulders. “Qu’est que tu fait là!”

“I’m going back to Montreal.

“But I only have two days to get all these costumes dyed. How about giving me a hand?”

So that’s how the best summer of my life and my career in the film business started. After working with Anne for two days and then three days with Glenn Bydwell, the production designer, who had a loft to finish in the main squared-timbered house which was up first in the shooting schedule, I asked the production manager if I was on the movie or not. I was wearing the same jean shirt and jeans I had come up with thinking I was only there overnight — washing my socks and underwear in the the sink in my room every night. I was in, $75 bucks a week but I had to pay for my room. Deal! (We went on strike later on and our accommodation was picked up). My parents shipped me up some clothes and I was all set.

In those days everybody did everything. I went from production assistant (gofer) to 4th or 5th AD. At night I helped out in the editing room befriending Honor Griffith, who was one of the best in the business. After we started filming I was one of the drivers who dropped off the negative at the airport and picked up the dailies and any actors or equipment that came in on the flight from Montreal. It was a brutal drive along a dirt road and after putting in a 15hr day, we had all we could do to stay awake. John Mckay, a close friend and fellow gofer, flipped his Chevelle one night on the way back, claiming he swerved to get out of the way of a giant rabbit. No one doubted him.

There are dozens of stories that came out of that summer. Here’s one of my favorites. Paul was known for his passion for authenticity. All costumes, sets, props and the like had to be the real deal. No half measures. We had a scene to shoot that involved the birthing of a calf. We had set up three cameras but the cow wasn’t ready. Over the next week this happened three times. On the fourth attempt, the script supervisor, Monique Champagne, had taken ill (a hangover?) and had to go back to her hotel. I was talked into taking her place and thus followed possibly the worst continuity reports ever penned in the industry.

When the world famous Director of Photography, Jean Boffety, had to leave a few days early, Paul Vanderlinden who was the first AC (Assistant Cameraman) took over and Al Smith became his focus puller. They had let me practice ‘dry‘ magazine loads during the summer and now were allowing me to do it for real. I don’t think I’d ever been that scared in my life. I went on to make a career as a Cinematographer, which I’m still practising.

Up to now these have all been stories about me but it was the experience of meeting all these incredible people that made it so unbelievable. On a rare day off we all gathered on a foggy afternoon at Greg Adams cabin right on the beach in the bay of Tadousaac to sing his Ferryboat Song, written there. It became a hit in Canada and propelled Greg to a life-long career as a song-writer.

 

Bert Tougas became one of Canada’s foremost cameramen. When he joined us, he was a tall, stringy lad with a winning personality whom everyone loved. Over the years (he is now in his sixties) he has worked in the camera Department of over a hundred movies and series, been the DP (Director of Photography) of approximately 35 movies and 110 episodes of Television. (PA)

Honor Griffiths, the Editor

Who could forget the night of a raging snow storm that shut down the city, when Paul and Bert (whose jaw dropped at the very idea) donned snowshoes to trek to the Film Board — an expedition that would have been far beyond the realm of likelihood for another soul to even contemplate. For Paul, it was not only an achievable goal, but an exciting adventure. I was, that evening, left warmed by the upstairs fireplace with an unfinished bottle of equally warming red wine, and very content that a third set of snow shoes did not exist.

Perhaps we should reconvene at the original location, including the red wine in my goblet and the logs burning in the fireplace. The blinding snowstorm will simply have to be imagined. However, it was most certainly referred to as the storm of the century. I remember the snow being 10 or 12 feet deep and the temperature hovering at minus 30 – making it far too dangerous to harness the sled dogs. We said our tearful farewells – there was little hope that you two would survive the journey. I braced myself with more wine and tried to maintain my balance and appear strong. Bert kept muttering something about insanity but his words were drowned out by the howling winds. Unlike many others, I believe the whip in Paul’s hand was used only sparingly to urge Bert to greater speed but those details have never been revealed. It was, however, most regrettable that Bert lost his manhood due to severe frostbite.

 

PS: TO PAUL.

Paul, no eyes sparkled like yours did (mine sometimes bloodshot due to Bert forcing (?) me on pub tours). I can still so clearly see your face lit up with an excitement that would leave me wondering whether I was about to be posed a baffling question, or if you were going to unveil an extraordinary surprise that you could not wait another second to share. Your eyes twinkled with a child-like Christmas morning glee, your optimism and determination were contagious, and there was never the least possibility allowed for disappointment or defeat.

I am grateful for the life lessons that you never preached, but rather were learned by being witness to how you lived so generously, loved so truthfully and inspired all.

Honor Griffith writes:

Camp Journey, with our mentor Paul at the helm, flipped my perspectives and clarified future roads that could never have been imagined, nor realized, otherwise.Two children put an end to those gruelling hours in the film world. Once they were old enough, I formed my own company renovating and redeveloping rental and condominium housing. After 25 years, I sold the company and moved to my heaven on earth home in the beautifully isolated wooded hills of Northumberland County, where nature gently, quietly and very wisely determines the rules. I have, in many ways, happily travelled the Journey back to the days of Tadoussac.