One of the audience-favorite scenes at the very end of The Beastmaster is when the little baby ferrets pop up out of our hero’s leather satchel. Audiences always go nuts for that one. However, there is a scene, right after that baby ferrets scene, that may have been one of the most absolutely harrowing scenes I’ve had anything to do with, ever.
We were in postproduction, about three weeks after shooting on The Beastmaster was complete, and busy assembling the cut. The plan was to go out and shoot some pickup shots to finish up and fill out our missing scenes. I always build into the budget additional money for pickup shooting days. I have found that these extra days are extremely important in crafting a good movie. You’re able to come back, well rested after taking a few days off, you’ve seen all the footage, and can get those important shots you missed that can really make a movie great. Plus, it’s usually a tiny crew of just a couple people and mostly relaxing and fun. No pressure.
We would frequently get orders from the powers-that-be who financed our film. This time the Commercial Director had decided that he wanted us to film a shot for the very end of the picture in which the mama ferret leans over and kisses the tiger. Paul and I immediately responded, “You can’t do that. The tiger will eat the ferret!” Remember, we had just finished shooting seventy-two days of animal action; we had both been forced into becoming experts on the behaviors of these animals.
From the first day, it had been drummed into our brains that the animals could work together in only very rare circumstances and mostly not at all. The lesson we were taught, over and over by the trainers, was that if the eagle saw the ferret, it would attack and eat it. We were also taught that if the tiger saw the ferret, it would eat it. And if the tiger saw the eagle, it would eat it. And if the tiger saw a horse, it would eat that too. It was all pretty basic law-of-the-jungle stuff. To us this scene was a truly idiotic idea. Today, this kind of shot could be easily accomplished with 3D models and digital effects. However, back then it would require the ferret to get nose-to-nose with one of the largest predators on the planet. It was readily apparent this would not end well for the little ferret. Again we protested to our moneyman and were firmly told that we were not being asked, but told, the scene must be shot. No matter what.
So we went to the animal trainers. Their immediate response? “The tiger will eat the ferret.”
We went back to this executive producer. “No can do. The tiger will eat the ferret.” We were told to do it anyway. So I pulled out that trump card that all directors proudly carry in their back pocket. I climbed up on my soapbox. “If you insist on shooting that scene you will have to get someone else to direct it.” The CD immediately responded, “No problem. Get the trainers, I will shoot the scene myself.”
On the day of the shoot I had promised myself that I would not show up for the poor ferret’s execution. But like a rubbernecker at a car crash I just couldn’t stay away. The ferret was put into the Beastmaster’s satchel, which was slung around one of the trainer’s necks. The set was cleared and the process of bringing in the tiger started. The trainers started their standard tiger entrance speech. “Everyone on your feet!” “No menstruating women on the set!” “No children!” “No quick movements!” Out of instinctual fear, everyone scrupulously followed these instructions.
The tiger was led from his cage and escorted to his mark. Paul and I were watching from a dozen feet back. The camera rolled and the CD called, “Action!” I tried to close my eyes but try as I might I just had to watch, even if it meant witnessing the violent death of one of the loyal little stars of my film. The trainer with the satchel was hiding it from the tiger. He said, “Here goes nothing.” Then, he swung around toward the tiger to reveal the ferret poking out of the bag. Shocked, the tiger just stared, stunned that this funny little creature was right there in front of him. Surprised, the tiny ferret fearlessly peered back up at the huge cat. The trainer leaned the bag toward the tiger. This was it, the poor little ferret was about to be tiger food. And guess what? The ferret and tiger kissed each other, then pulled back, then kissed each other again and the trainer quickly leaped away, clutching the little ferret. Dougie, our camera operator, switched it off and called out, “Got the shot!” And that was it. Meanwhile, the CD beamed with pride. Paul and I and the rest of the crew heaved a grateful sigh of relief. The tiger was taken back to his cage and rewarded with a cooked chicken.
Animal Trainer Note: If one wants to film a scary tiger snarl with a normally tame big cat, this is how it is done by the professionals. The trainer takes a cooked chicken, loops a line of steel cable through it, and then gives the chicken to the tiger to eat. The cameraman rolls film, and then, on a count of three, the trainer yanks on the cable. There is something about having your dinner snatched away that brings out the ferocious animal in any of us. In a tiger its stunning response is so terrifying that you immediately question why you would allow yourself to ever be in such close proximity to such a fierce predator.