RobertRedfordthinks heisme,sodoesClint Eastwoodbutnoone playsmequiteaswell asIdo..wartsandall
Grizzled Guy Wallace will mix with the arty crowd at Glasgow’s CCA this evening as documentary about hunting is screened
GAUCHO, rancher and big game hunter Guy Wallace must be the world’s least likely film star.
Aged 75, his skin resembles a withered apple. His eyebrows have a life of their own and his facial hair is trimmed to a style last popular in the 19th century.
Despite this complete disregard for his personal appearance, Guy is the subject of a documentary, End of the Game, which premieres at the Glasgow Film Festival tonight.
In it, vegan film-maker David Graham Scott accompanies Guy on what he reckons will be his final trip to South Africa, to shoot a Cape buffalo for the last time.
The film is being shown in Glasgow’s Centre for Contemporary Arts. With its vegan cafe and seditious book shop, it’s a favourite hangout of girls with avocado tattoos and languid young men with “Still Yes” badges. Both showings of End of the Game are almost sold out.
Guy has no fear of anything the audience might throw his way.
As a farmer in Rhodesia, he shot buffalo to protect his cattle – and to eat. These days, he hunts and stalks wild animals who have lived natural lives and have no idea what is happening to them until his bullet hits them.
By the end of the film, even hardcore vegan David recognises that Guy’s rifle is a lot less offensive than factory farming.
Guy defends his passion for big game hunting. He said: “The whole thing is about getting as close as you can to the quarry for a humane kill.
“I didn’t use a telescopic sight until I was nearly 40 and have been shooting a rifle since I was 15.
“In Namibia, I shot a mountain zebra from 15 yards away. That’s proper stalking.
“For me, that’s the ethics of it, which seem to be going out of every bloody thing these days. Or perhaps I’m just an old fuddy-duddy.”
He is surprised, but not alarmed, by the interest in the documentary.
Guy added: “I thought it would be two men and a dog turning up but apparently it’s almost sold out. I suspect there will be more bunny-huggers than red-blooded men of the veldt there.”
No prizes for guessing which camp Guy falls into. He has been a Sandhurst-trained military officer and a gaucho in Argentina. Hunting runs in his family and his great uncle Arthur shot man-eating tigers for the Indian Forestry Service. A product of an earlier time, with the attitudes to match, he was the perfect subject for a documentary-maker looking for a chewy subject.
Guy’s risk-taking behaviour extends beyond hunting wild animals. He has allowed David to make this film, then show it at an arts centre with a meat-free menu without seeing a final cut.
He said: “It’s his film and it’s up to him what he puts in it. He did say something about not wanting to do a hatchet job on me but I do have a fairly thick skin.”
Despite their disagreements on what constitutes a square meal, Guy trusts David. He said: “I wouldn’t have collaborated with him otherwise. He knows what he’s doing. What I know about film-making you could write on the back of a postage stamp.”
End of the Game is as affectionate a celebration of a politically incorrect buffalo shooter as it’s possible for a militant vegan to make.
Guy’s personal grooming is as rough and ready as his choice of vocabulary and David does nothing to buff up his rough edges.
For example, Guy loses his false teeth after a session on the brandy on their first night in South Africa.
For the rest of his time on screen, he clutches his curve-stemmed pipe and holds forth about bushcraft with his all-but-bare gums.
He said. “They tried to fit me with a pair of warthog tusks from a lion kill but they didn’t look quite right. They were great curved things about nine inches long.”
Getting a new set of wallies is just one of his preparations for his big night in Glasgow. He has also had his hair trimmed and picked out a suitable outfit.
He said: “I don’t normally get my hair cut at this time of year and she did a bit of a hatchet job on me. She took off far too much of my bugger’s grips.” (The technical term for the mutton chop whiskers that adorn each side of his face).
“They’re not sideburns, technically, because they don’t meet up with hair. They are like a teenager’s bumfluff, which is a shame. She had done one side before I could stop her.”
Not for Guy the diva option of calling in a rail of designer finery then picking a red carpet outfit. He will attend the premiere wearing a selection of old favourites, many of which can also be seen in the documentary.
He said: “I’ve got a sports jacket, a broad-brimmed trilby, a pair of bush khaki trousers, some brothel creepers, a dark green plaid shirt and my trademark blue-andwhite spotted neckerchief.”
Post-premiere accommodation for his entourage is at the Travelodge. No family – his daughter is in New Zealand and his son declined to travel from Herefordshire for his father’s screen debut, declaring: “It’s a bloody long way to go to see a film.”
Instead, Guy has assembled a group of pals including the safari chum who made his new gnashers and an arms dealer who is bringing him up some new kit.
After watching their pal on the big screen, they will hear him answer questions from the audience before heading out for dinner. They have been warned to play nice.
He said: “I’ve told everybody to remember to keep the Queen’s peace and behave themselves like gentlemen.”
Unlike other film stars, Guy has no other projects in development. But should Hollywood come calling for a remake, he’s ready.
He said: “Robert Redford’s problem is that sometimes he thinks he’s me. Clint Eastwood is someone else who sometimes thinks he’s me. But no one else plays me quite as well as I play me. Warts and all.” ● End of the Game is at CCA Glasgow tonight at 6.30pm, go to www.glasgowfilm.org
I suspect there will be more bunny-huggers than red-blooded men of the veldt there
GUY WALLACE