Bud Tingwell died today. I met him, once, very briefly, when he recorded the voiceover for the above.
When I pitched the idea to Bud’s agent, I told her that the reason I wanted Bud to do the voiceover was that he represented “the voice of authenticity”. Whatever Bud said always sounded like gospel, so having him lend his voice to my patently untrue story provided exactly the kind of tension I was going for.
I never expected him to say yes. I just figured it was worth a shot. He was so sweet and generous that the only payment he requested was for me to pay for the taxi from his place to the recording studio and back. When I met him at the studio and the subject of payment came up, he actually seemed shy about asking for the money.
We did about three takes, and on the third I gave him a little bit of direction about emphasis, cringing inwardly at the temerity of someone like me telling someone like him how to do a reading. But he did exactly what I asked him to do, like the seasoned professional he was, and he nailed it.
I never actually got around to sending him a copy of the final film – my genius at procrastinaton prevented me from ever getting my shit together enough to complete the complex sequence of tasks involved (ie, burn to disc, put in the post). And now, I guess, I never will.
Anyway, thanks, Bud. To have met you was a privelige, and to have worked with you was a god-damned freakin’ honour.