Excerpt: Quadrophenia: A Way of Life
By Simon Wells.
This extract from Quadrophenia: A Way Of Life, details the mass of pre-production that went on before filming could start in 1978.
The majority of Quadrophenia’s front-line cast signed up, rehearsals could begin in earnest. Given the frenetic pace, the film’s extraordinary tight schedule meant that auditions for the supplementary cast were taking place as rehearsals, re-writes and the mass of production duties were being collated.
Preliminary rehearsals with the main cast were held at Franc Roddam’s home in Notting Hill, West London. In between reading parts of the script, the director employed some improvisations to assess the actors’ screen worth and to sharpen the script with further street-level believability. Among those present were Philip Davis and Mark Wingett, and they have since recalled an impromptu moment at the director’s house and garden.
Philip Davis: “My first audition with Franc was at his flat and we read some bits, talked about the characters and did some improvisations. Funnily enough we were doing an improvisation on the scene where we break into the chemist’s shop; that was in Franc’s kitchen.”
Mark Wingett: “We were camping out in the garden and all that. And it was supposed to be the chemist scene where they find the drugs. And just when we got inside, the phone rung and we all scarpered back into the garden and he put that into the script.”
Elsewhere, casting was taking place for the rest of the film with many actors, some with more seniority in years, being earmarked for supporting roles. It was clear from the start that Jimmy’s parents would have to remain characteristically detached from the antics of their errant son.
The role of Jimmy’s dad would be given to 31-year-old Michael Elphick. A presence in the theatre since the age of 15, Elphick displayed a maturity on screen well beyond his years. While he’d find enormous success on both screen and television as Jimmy’s long-suffering father, he’d be handed numerous opportunities to stretch his creative limbs in Quadrophenia.
Elphick’s part as Jimmy’s dad would call for numerous confrontation with his errant son. Interestingly, a heated exchange between Jimmy and his dad would be partially drawn from director Roddam’s own family history; as he explained in 2012.
Franc Roddam: “My Irish mother’s uncles’ used to go to church on Sunday and afterwards they would have a good drink up, and one of them fell down a well in the garden and ended in a river about a mile away.”
The role of Jimmy’s mother had been given to actress Amanda Barrie, an actress with a sizeable portfolio of work dating back from the 1960’s; a résumé that included highlights playing alongside Patrick McGoohan in Danger Man and a leading lady in Carry On Cleopatra. In the midst of personal issues, she found herself pitched in a heavily charged atmosphere with equally volatile action embedded in the script. This would prove damning for Barrie in the ensuing weeks.
Others would be called in for important cameos in the film. At the twilight of his career was a fleeting appearance by Hugh Lloyd as Jimmy’s post-room manager, ‘Mr Cale’. A veteran of numerous comedy productions (not least as a comic foil to Tony Hancock) Lloyd’s presence would resonate with the era since past. Displaying a continual affront to Jimmy’s free range behaviour at work, the pneumatic Benjamin Whitrow would be supremely cast as Jimmy’s boss at work, ‘Mr. Fulford’. A quite aristocratic presence would be witnessed in 3rd Baronet, Sir Coles John Child. Cast in a minor role as an advertising executive, Child (referred to as ‘Jeremy’) would add the necessary class gravitas to a scene in the agency’s toilet.
Jimmy’s workplace would also serve to introduce one Timothy Spall, the 21-year-old cast as a hapless projectionist in Jimmy’s advertising workplace. Spall’s acting career in its formative stages, Quadrophenia would present him with his first cinema role. Like many, he would be propelled into front-line acting work courtesy of the film.
Reading-born John Altman was another young actor whose potential appeared limitless. He’d arrived with a pool of actors to audition for the enigmatic part of the ‘Ace Face’ and while unsuccessful, he (and others) would find places into the supporting cast. A tag to Altman’s casting was that he (and others) would have to be receptive to improvisations and rewrites as filming took place, such was the fury of the production. His role as Mod ‘Johnny Fagin’ would maintain a familiar presence throughout the film, featuring in both the Brighton and London sequences.
Other actors such as Gary Holton, Daniel Peacock, Julian Firth and future Only Fools And Horses star Nicholas Lyndhurst, would also be signed up to make brief appearances during the film.
A scene devised by Alan Fletcher during the very first incarnation of Quadrophenia’s film script featured Jimmy’s childhood friend; an ex-army soldier turned Rocker, ‘Kevin Herriot’. The leather-clad Rocker’s dismal roughing up would throw up an emotional minefield for Jimmy, and would be pivotal in his eventual rejection of the Mod philosophy. Auditions for someone who could handle this brief but key role brought 21-year-old Ray Winstone into the Quadrophenia fold.
Winstone had gone a long way to embellish his credentials as a teenage hard man as Carlin in Alan Clarke’s startling treatment of borstal life, the 1977 television drama Scum. Also starring Phil Daniels, the drama had been banned by the BBC, the Corporation fearful of a political backlash due to the picture’s challenging content. Nonetheless, cinema’s broader censorship brief allowed the story to be revived as a feature film, Winstone’s gritty portrayal stealing both productions.
Hailing from a tough East End background, Winstone excelled in amateur boxing, training at the legendary Repton Boys Club from the age of 12. Such was his prowess in the ring, the youngster would win numerous awards during his teenage years. In 1975, a change of focus led Ray to sign up at London’s Corona Theatre School. This, in turn, landed him a few television roles prior to the lead in Scum. The film’s controversial embargo led a disillusioned Ray to seek work outside of acting, taking anything from stall holder to sales rep. Ironically, talk of Scum’s cinema revival reignited Winstone’s acting career. With Quadrophenia offering him a further chance to build on his already enormous potential, Winstone gait and uncompromising presence would prove perfect for the role of the doomed Rocker.
With the script calling for the main cast to be interdependent on each other, Franc Roddam set about creating a gang in preparation for what lay ahead. In touch with the chemistry that bonds young mindsets, for Roddam, it was vital to gauge how the cast related to each other, both off and on set. In pursuance of this, Roddam asked for and was granted by producers Baird and Curbishley, a month for preparation and team bonding; a commodity rarely afforded for such a modest budget. For the Punk kids of 1978, revisiting the Mod world of the 1960’s required extra-special tutoring.
Phil Davis: “The most useful thing was that we really got to know each other; the kind of gang theme of ‘who liked who’ and ‘whose favourites with each other’, we really got that going.”
Franc Roddam: “Because they weren’t expensive actors, (producer) Roy Baird let me have them for a month before, which is very unusual. I had 40 people for a month before we started shooting.”
Aware that just looking at books and clippings wouldn’t be sufficient for the task ahead, those closely linked with The Who’s fan base called up some of the group’s earliest Mod acolytes in West London to help with research. 14 years after the events, some of these characters were still actively maintaining the Mod ethos and were happy to school Quadrophenia’s neophyte cast in the finer points of deportment and etiquette, in all of its many and varied pursuits. While he’d earmarked taking on the bulk of the sound remixing for the film, it appears John Entwistle was largely instrumental in forging a link with Quadrophenia’s frontline with the London Mods of the 1960’s.
“We went to parties in their houses,” Toyah Wilcox would recall later. “(We) learned how to do the dances and learned about the drug cultures of the time. A lot of us were living quite wildly at the time, and we really got into it, burning the candle at both ends.”
“We were introduced to a couple of old Mods,” recalled Phil Davis to the author in 2012. “One was a bloke called Tommy who lived in Fulham. He threw a party for us and they were playing all the old Mod tunes and they were telling us what was hip and what wasn’t and showing us all the different dances. A big bag of Blues (amphetamines) appeared and we all had a go. We were up all night, eyes out on stalks. To be clear, the producers were not encouraging us to take drugs, this was our own thing, but we wanted to throw ourselves at the Mod culture. And we did. We were young. We watched 60’s movies. All manner of stuff went on.”
Toyah Wilcox: “I can remember being driven on the back of a scooter around Peckham at about 90 mph at four in the morning by this old couple who were showing us the life.”
Trevor Laird would also recall John Entwistle taking an important lead in this vital preparation, personally shepherding members of the cast to meet members of The Who’s original fan-base, and viewing some the locations important to the gestation of the band.
While the recollections from this period could fill an entire book, most of the cast recall a night where they’d been shunted to a house to party with some original Mods. The action taking place on all floors, Sting would make a bizarre and wholly impromptu appearance.
“I’ll never forget at one of these parties,” recalled Trevor Laird in 1999, “in the house of an old Mod called Mickey, Sting suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs – swimming, murmuring, ‘I’ve got to get there, I’ve got to get there.’”
“We met a load of geezers down in Shepherd’s Bush,” recalled Gary Shail in 2011 of the partying that doubled as method research. “They all had half-fingers that had been mashed up in the 1960’s wars with the Rockers. They were giving us pills and all that shit, and we all got mashed.”
Outside of partying for method research, Mark Wingett would recall the whirlwind of preparation that occurred prior to filming. “We’d get picked up in a car and taken to the strip club in Soho where above it was a dance studio, and we were given dancing lessons for two weeks… Franc would say, ‘Right, tonight we’re going off to The Nashville Rooms (a famous West London Punk venue) to watch a band,’ and we’d all turn up there. Or we’d go to the Southgate Royalty (a North London dance hall) to see how we all interacted together.”
Equally vital to the Mod lifestyle were clothes and dance. Toyah Wilcox, abandoning her overtly Punk look for the role, had rummaged deep in her mother’s clothing for anything that reeked of the decade. Outside of Toyah’s mum’s wardrobe, the film’s producers were taking the acquisition of clothes very seriously.
One company approached to secure the necessary period pieces was called Contemporary Wardrobes. More than just a clothes-hire operation, they’d earned a reputation by supplying genuine items for films and other productions. Overseen by two former Mods, tailors Jack English and Roger Burton, they recalled their joy at being called in for duties on the film for a Who fanzine in 1979.
Jack English: “Getting the costumes together was pure joy because we were part of the Mod era and our hearts are still there. We were at the actual Brighton riot portrayed in the film. Those were the days when a guy spent an hour getting the knot in his tie just right, afraid to sit down on the bus in case his suit got creased. There were only about 300 guys in the whole of London who could then afford authentic Mod suits, and for the film we located a wonderful genuine silk John Michael exclusive… For Quadrophenia we had to research the right shape.”
Dancing, as integral to the Mod lifestyle as clothes and drugs, was another component that was essential to the authenticity of the film. To facilitate this, Franc Roddam called in Gillian Gregory, a choreographer who’d previously taught classical ballet and tap dancing. While respected for a résumé that included dance tutelage on films such as Tommy and Bugsy Malone, it was apparent that the idiosyncratic moves of the Mod generation required a special instruction from club floor level.
These rehearsals would take place at the London Dance Centre in Covent Garden, where a fortuitous meeting with legendary club DJ and counter-culture icon, Jeff Dexter, would occur. A character that had been at the sharp end of many defining events during the 1960’s, Dexter first came to prominence for his legendary club nights around London’s Mod compass; The Flamingo and Scene Clubs in particular. Although he hadn’t danced professionally since 1965, his experience of both style and era was without question. Dexter was contracted to tutor Quadrophenia’s core group in the fineries of dance and step. He recalled his time on set to the BBC in 1978.
“It was kind of a strange thing to be requested to come and do all the dances I used to do all those years ago,” said Dexter. “I had to take on the team and start off by teaching them The Twist, The Pony, The Locomotion and all the real idiot dances of the time. I explained to them how stupid most of the dances were, how long they lasted and how dancing developed into individual styles.”
Such was the authority Dexter held, he’d later be signed up to oversee the entirety of the proposed club sequence where scores of extras had been signed up to strut their collective stuff. Sting’s enigmatic Ace Face requiring some genre defining footsteps, Dexter would spend considerable time with the actor in an attempt to get everything right; firstly at the dance studio in Covent Garden and then on set during the shoot.
Sting’s presence was obviously required for the majority of these sessions, although in the run-up to filming, he’d been modest in revealing details of his other life in music to fellow cast members. This coy idiosyncrasy would prompt an amusing revelation as Gary Shail recalled to the author in 2014. “We were rehearsing in this dance studio and Sting walked in wearing his classic green flight suit. On his lapel he had a little badge that just said ‘Police’ and I said, ‘What’s that?’ and he said ‘That’s the name of my band’ and I said, ‘What a fucking stupid name for a band!’”
Dance steps aside, competent scooter riding was essential for Quadrophenia’s Mod pretenders and so expert tutoring on how best to operate the tricky vehicles was obligatory. Knowing how important the manoeuvring of scooters was to the authenticity of the film, Franc Roddam put aside a large part of the pre-production budget to acquire a large fleet of two-wheeled transport.
In preparation for scooter riding duties, the main cast, including Leslie Ash and Toyah Wilcox, were shunted over to police training headquarters at Hendon, North London; the brief to get them acquainted on conventional bikes before transferring them over to the more Mod-friendly Lambrettas and Vespas.
Hendon had the benefit of a large driving circuit, a place where novice cadets could practise their skills on conventional motorbikes. For some of Quadrophenia’s cast, it was the first time they’d ventured out on two wheels, let alone dealing with the delicate idiosyncrasies of a scooter. With just one week set aside to learn the ins and outs of bike riding, this intensive period would lead to some funny moments – especially concerning Leslie Ash, as Phil Daniels and Toyah Wilcox would later recall.
“We went to the Hendon police place,” recalled Phil Daniels in 2008, “and got taught by some big fat copper about how to ride our bikes. He used to get Leslie Ash onto the back because he fancied her. I mean, when you are about 19, they’re the best bits – y’know what I mean? Free bike rides and all that.”
Toyah Wilcox: “One of my first images is Leslie Ash going arse over tit falling off a scooter. I think she used the brake as the accelerator and it kind of flipped her.”
While seemingly impeccable in most disciplines, it appears Sting’s scooter riding was well below par for what was ultimately required. “They wanted me to do a wheelie moving along,” recalled Sting to the Daily Mirror in 1979. “By the time I’d smashed two scooters they decided not to use that shot in the film.”
Nonetheless, in between numerous hiccups and adventures, a bond within the main players became to emerge, as Phil Daniels recalled to the BBC in 2005.
“We all became very good buddies, very quickly. We all hung around together, Franc encouraged this. He encouraged the depraved sides of our nature. He was not one for tucking us into bed of a night-time… We really felt we was a gang and the way it was done, because of Franc’s background in documentary work, and me coming from a school of improvisation and everybody else taking that track on. It was very documentary style.”
Indeed, Roddam’s background in documentaries was obviously going to inspire the direction the film was going to take.
Franc Roddam: “When I made Quadrophenia I said, ‘I’m going to shoot it in the same way that I make a documentary. I’m going to let the actors have the space, they’re going to decide the movement, I’m going to move like they move and the camera would move like they move.’”
Given its frenetic schedule, Quadrophenia would require a director of photography with enough agility and street-level empathy to successfully transfer the script onto celluloid with conviction. Enter Brian Tufano, then a 39-year-old veteran of the British film and television industry. Hailing from the same turf as The Who, Tufano had worked his way up from a 16-year-old trainee projectionist at the BBC to a production assistant. Tufano’s evident talent would see him later transfer to the BBC’s acclaimed documentary division, contributing to high-end productions of the likes of Panorama, Omnibus and Man Alive.
His work on documentaries underpinning a desire to move into larger screen projects, Tufano would contribute to a number of short drama pieces, although work on a major motion picture eluded him. Nonetheless, Quadrophenia would be his first foray into full-length movies.
To keep a sense of order without compromising the often violent scenes, stunt arranger Peter Braham would be called in to coordinate the often challenging action. Violence and motorcycle stunts a component part of this hugely energetic film, only someone of Brayham’s vast experience could be relied upon to ensure that all of the physical action could be contained safely. Having served on numerous British television series and films (including Patrick McGoohan’s cult classic The Prisoner), Brayham was well schooled in marshalling difficult situations. However, there were to be times on Quadrophenia that would test even his extensive experience.
While Roddam had the freedom to hire scooters and motorbikes for pre-production, it was obvious that the detail of Jimmy and the Ace Face’s vehicles would come under close scrutiny once the film was shown in cinemas. Mods renowned for their ultra-obsessive attention to detail, any slight chink in authenticity could easily be rooted out once blown up on screen.
With a brief to be faithful in every respect to the lead vehicles, the film producers approached Sterling Scooters, a small establishment based in West Drayton, Middlesex to supply some of the all-important pieces of machinery. With Phil Daniels’ Lambretta occupying a large part of screen time, it was decided that two identical scooters were required for Daniels in case of any incapacity once filming started.
Jimmy’s dominant scooter in the picture would be a 1967 Lambretta LI 150 model, series 3. While evidently a vintage machine, it hailed from the period 1967-8; a full three years outside of the prospective timescale. As a result, the scooter’s original number plate, an F registration (dating from August 1967), had to be clipped to defer any overt anorak interest. Nonetheless, the rest of the plate, KRU 251, would remain intact, albeit demarking it as an unusual registration to those who monitored such things.
Much like the character who rode it, the Ace Face’s scooter would have to upstage the entirety of other scooters in the film. Given that Quadrophenia’s ‘Bell Boy’ song had embedded in its lyrics “I drive a GS Scooter”, it was non-negotiable that Sting’s vehicle could be anything but a Vespa. Furthermore, to elevate it above all the other Mods’ vehicles, the machine would have to be dressed with numerous mirrors and other chromatic livery befitting its celebrity.
Outside of the main protagonists, the rest of the cast would need suitably vintage transport for their parts. Original vehicles from the period proving hard to source, a host of contemporary scooters were acquired and distressed to assume the period. One of the consultants employed to flush out any old parts from dealers across the country was William Woodhouse, a former aircraft engineer and a member of the Vespa Club of Great Britain.
“We had lots of trouble hunting around dealers finding the mirrors and lights,” recalled Williams in 2011. “You had to find five sets that all looked the same.”
Nonetheless, Woodhouse would successfully re-dress the vehicles to meet the demands of the period. While overlooked in previous appreciations of the film, it was Woodhouse’s idea to give Sting’s vehicle its unique number plate VCB 160; a curious assignation and the subject of much debate among Quadrophenia’s aficionados. In 2011 Williams finally revealed the plate’s somewhat unique derivation.
“I was in the Vespa Club of Britain,” Woodhouse told reporter Jennifer Scott in 2009. “That’s the reason I put its initials on there. I was just advertising the Vespa Club for free! The original bike they wanted was a Vespa 160, which is where the numbers came from. All the film’s fans thought the numbers had a special meaning behind them.”
The Brighton shoot requiring other vehicles for the ancillary cast, a call would go out to engage members of the scooter fraternity throughout the UK scooter club network. Drawing hardcore fanatics to involve themselves with the production would bring with it various issues; not least a belief that the production crew were seemingly eager to compromise originality over style. Reportedly, this led to several scooter aficionados leaving the production early on. Nonetheless, others were excited about their vehicles featuring in the film and happily acquiesced.
In tandem with securing the period artefacts for the film, there was the not inconsiderate task of location finding. For a production that was scheduled to be filmed in genuine settings, a huge amount of work had to be undertaken to secure believable exteriors and backdrops. Consumed with the script, casting and other issues, Franc Roddam had delegated the workload and sent a team of professional location hunters to London and the South coast to secure the best exteriors.
While Brighton was central to the film’s theme, initial approaches to the town were met with a less than positive response from fusty local authoritarians. Mindful of the havoc that had occurred on their beaches just 14 years previously, Brighton council initially blocked filming within the town; citing that the beach-fight scenes could be enormously provocative. Genuine riots involving Punks and Teddy Boys at seaside resorts the year before reviving banner headlines and delicate sensitivities, any prospective rioting, however contrived, was seemingly an anathema to Brighton’s nervous guardians.
“Brighton Council would not give us permission to shoot here,” recalled Franc Roddam in 2007. “So we started looking around at Scarborough, Weston-super-Mare; all these other towns that had piers. But in the end I thought, ‘One: (Brighton) is the most beautiful looking town’ and ‘Two: we should be faithful to the album’. So I persisted and said to my producer Roy Baird, ‘Look, I want to do it here. You’ve got to make it happen’.”
With Roddam’s insistence, Quadrophenia’s big guns travelled down to Brighton to ensure that the iconic South-coast location was cleared for filming use.
“We were very lucky,” Roy Baird reflected to the BBC in 2007. “The completion guarantee for the film was put up by a gentleman called Jimmy Swan. Jimmy’s friend was a Chairman of Brighton and Hove Albion football club, whose friend was a Chief Superintendent of Police. So I go to Brighton, go to a little cocktail party and meet the Chief of Police, and he said, ‘They can’t stop you y’know? The council can’t stop you shooting, I can stop you but they can’t’. So I said, ‘They said we can’t go on the beach’. And he said, ‘They can’t stop you going on the beach’. So I thought this was sounding really good. So he said, ‘You can carry on as long as you don’t break the law’.”
The Police Chief tacitly green-lighting permission to use Brighton for filming, Roddam and his team drew up a comprehensive map to detail where all the action would take place.
“This was a massive team effort,” recalled Roddam to the BBC in 2007. “We had a lot of people who were very enthusiastic about making this film. We had a very fine art director called Simon Holland. I remember I said to him, ‘Can you get me big maps of the streets, big blueprints?” I remember myself and a lot of other people strategising the riot and working it out… It was just very efficient. It was my first film, my first feature, I wanted to succeed, I was fiercely determined.”
With the police offering up no objections to filming, permission from Brighton’s local authority was granted. However, there was one important caveat to filming; namely that filming on two of the town’s most iconic landmarks, the Palace and West Piers, was forbidden. Mindful that in 1974, shooting for Ken Russell’s Tommy had razed nearby Portsmouth’s South Parade Pier, there were worries that the associated electricity required for filming might have a similar effect. This would cause a few headaches early on, especially as a key scene toward the end of the film would call for an expressive use of the pier.
This quandary not immediately soluble, Roddam and his team had to look elsewhere. Portsmouth, still reeling from Ken Russell’s explosive filming some years back, was obviously out of bounds, while other South coast piers were not up for the task. One potential location was situated some 200 miles away, at the West Country location of Weston-super-Mare. With little time to think, Roddam and his art department headed off to the West Country once the day’s pre-production had been completed in London.
“I went to Weston-super-Mare,” recalled Roddam to the author in 2012. “We finished work on a Friday night, got this long train journey and arrived at 11:30 pm. Everything’s closed up and there’s a guy waiting for us at the pier, a doorman, and he’s telling us he’d written a book called ‘Revolving Doors’. Anyway, Weston-super-Mare was going to be very difficult to get the production down there. So I went back to Brighton and decided to look at the pier, rather than be on the pier. It did me a favour.”
While Roddam and his immediate production team were doing everything they could to secure clearances and permissions, others in Quadrophenia’s crew didn’t share in their imagination or stamina. With shooting dates imminent, it soon became apparent that location hunters had made only a perfunctory effort at securing clearances, especially at the Brighton end of logistics. Consumed with all manner of casting, script writing and other duties for Quadrophenia, Roddam’s patience was being heavily tested by their evident lackadaisical approach. Ultimately, it was a tip-off from the film’s art director, Simon Holland, that only a few of the locations for filming had been sourced, the worst omissions occurring at the key Brighton shoot.
Franc Roddam: “I remember my frustration with the guys I was working with. They kept bringing me locations that were good for parking because the locations guy’s first thought is, ‘Is it good for parking so he can get all the vehicles there?’ And my first thought was, ‘Does it look good on screen?’ This was my first feature and these were all seasoned guys I was working with, and they got a little bit lazy, and they kept showing me locations in Barnes. This guy lived in Barnes, which is a suburb of London, and I said, ‘Look, it’s good for parking and it’s good for Barnes, but it’s no fucking good for me. So get it right!’”
Despite Roddam’s protestations, location scouts were unmoved by the demands of a first-time film director. The British movie industry well beyond its halcyon days of the 1960’s, some were still lamenting the lavish hospitality and complacent ambience that accompanied past glories. The clock ticking, it soon became apparent that only a few sites had been cleared for filming. In Brighton, where the most intense preparation was to take place, only two out of 24 locations had been struck. With location spotters ensconced in a hotel on the South coast and reportedly dining at high-brow restaurants in the district, an incensed Roddam got wind of their decadent inactivity and shot down to their Brighton hotel to find out what was going on.
“I burst into the room,” recalled Roddam in 2008. “(I said) ‘Guys, I hear you haven’t got the locations?’ And they said, ‘Yeah well…’ and I went ape-shit. I said, ‘I don’t want you to breathe. I don’t want you to eat. I don’t you to shit. You find all those fucking locations for me or I am going to come back here and you’re all fucking fired; the whole lot of you. This picture’s going down because you haven’t got what I’ve asked of you. Your job is to get what I ask!’ One guy jumped up and took off his jacket off. I remember (and I must have been out of my mind) I picked up a wine bottle and I said, ‘Get the fucking locations!’ Anyway, I went away and came back a few days later and they’d got 19 of the 22 that were missing.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Signed copies of the book Quadrophenia: A Way Of Life are available from Simon Wells at £10 inc. P&P. Email: firstname.lastname@example.org
A kindle version including over 40 Polaroid photographs of the making of the film is also available.
(with thanks to Andrew Stevens)
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Friday, March 31st, 2017.