You might say I’ve conquered Hollywood — I couldn’t possibly comment
His BBC politi Of Cards grip now the U.S. scoop the Go MICHAEL DOB
THE showbusiness awards season begins in earnest this weekend with the Golden Globes — soon followed by the Oscars, Baftas and a host of others. The American TV version of Michael Dobbs’s House Of Cards — a best-selling book set in the murky world of Westminster politics, which became a classic BBC1 series — has been nominated for ten awards in the next few weeks, including four Golden Globes, to add to three Emmys it won last year. Here, Dobbs — now Lord Dobbs of Wylye — tells how Hollywood set his story in Washington and gave it a new lease of life, 25 years on . . .
IWAS late and a little lost when I arrived at Sony Pictures’ vast studio complex i n Los Angeles. ‘ kot a problem, Sir Dobbs,’ the female security guard said as she studied my passport.
‘ko, that’s not what I’m called,’ I stammered, wondering how to explain to an American the distinction between a hnight and a Baron.
‘Don’t worry, we get all sorts coming through here,’ she smiled. ‘Brits, Russians, Japanese. We even had Moses the other week.’ Another biblical saga, I guessed. She waved an extravagantly manicured fingernail over her shoulder. ‘vou walk under The Rainbow and turn left at Spiderman.’
The Rainbow turned out to be a 94ft multi-coloured arch, built to commemorate The Wizard Of Oz, which was made there by MGM. As instructed, I passed through the arch beneath which countless dreams had passed. I had arrived in Hollywood.
When I wrote my book House Of Cards more than a quarter of a century ago as a tale of Parliamentary power, limitless ambition and unashamed wickedness, I was sulking after a particularly bloody encounter with Margaret Thatcher, for whom I worked as chief of staff during the 1987 election. I had no idea my hesitant scribbles were about to change my life, or that all these years later it would still be walking me through rainbows.
Since then, I’ve stumbled through the usual collection of cock-ups and calamities, helped raise four sons, written 20 books, somehow slid onto the red leather benches of the House of Lords.
The BBC made a prize-winning adaptation of House Of Cards with the wonderful Ian Richardson in the role of the Machiavellian Chief Whip Francis rrquhart. It created waves and even a little outrage. Prime Minister John Major said it had done for his job ‘what Dracula has done for babysitting’. At every twist and turn since then, the murderous Francis rrquhart — whom I call Fr — has been at my side.
kow the Americans are at it. They’ve changed the name to Frank rnderwood — Fr2, as I call him — put him in Washington — as an ambitious Democratic Congressman — rather than Westminster. And he has become bigger than ever.
Fr’s new lease of life began with a telephone call from a company I’d never heard of called Media Rights Capital. Might I be interested in a deal on the TV rights? Perhaps, I r eplied cautiously. Hollywood promises are like snowflakes, almost impossible to nail down.
For a while I heard nothing. Then another call. ‘We’ve got others who want to join in.’ ‘Like who?’ I asked. ‘hevin Spacey and David Fincher.’ SPACEv AkD FIkCHER! Their collection of Oscars and other top awards would break any bookshelf. Spacey has been named the greatest actor of his generation. Fincher (Fight Club, Seven, The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button, The Social ketwork) is in some eyes the best director — ever.
‘I think I might be interested,’ I spluttered. ‘Actually, very interested.’
So the American version of House Of Cards was born. Thirteen hours of s uperb digitalised television drama, made available through ketflix at the press of a button over the internet.
The finished series became a global television sensation. President Obama is a fan. David Cameron watched it — even an elderly lady peer, who stopped me in the division lobby while we were voting, declared: ‘Michael, I rather enjoyed your film. But it’s a bit gritty in places!’
All the sex, I hastened to explain, is entirely necessary to the plot. ‘That’s what they said during the air raids,’ she muttered. I thought she looked a little wistful.
SEuis certainly a part of the programme’s success. So is hype and excitement. But mostly it’s down to toil and sweat — rivers of it. As the production got under way, the world of House Of Cards, though set i n Washington, was created behind a high wire fence and tight security on an industrial estate on the outskirts of Baltimore.
It used to be a huge pharmaceutical warehouse but was transformed with an extraordinary eye for detail into the White House, the Congress, Fr’s Georgetown home, anything the scriptwriters wanted. The result was so authentic there was whisky in the crystal decanter, suits in the closets and fine linen on the beds.
I could have spent a week there in luxury.
The team of scriptwriters was led by a brilliant thirtysomething called Beau Willimon. He mostly looked knackered on set, which was scarcely surprising. Thirteen hours of television is the equivalent of creating six or seven feature films. His ripped jeans may have been a fashion statement or simply reflecting a desperate lack of time for other parts of his life.
By contrast Robin Wright, who plays Fr’s wife Claire, always looked radiant, full of simmering sexuality and barely suppressed menace, yet once the lights snapped off she usually sat quietly, entirely different from her scything onscreen character. Her beauty was translucent, her dedication, like the rest of them, impeccable. They often worked 12-hour days and continued shooting long into the night.
And at the heart of it, hevin Spacey, waiting quietly in the wings for his call, his new retriever mix puppy Boston at his feet. hevin would be bent over his Blackberry, thumbs twitching, his mind in the White House but his heart still very much back in London, one minute raising money for his beloved Old Vic theatre, the next organising master classes for young actors, dealing with a thousand requests, perhaps making a date for tennis. He seemed to have time for everything and everyone.
He was the man who held this enormous empire together.
I’m often asked which version of House Of Cards I prefer: the British or American. Ian Richardson played Fr with more dark camp humour, Spacey seems like a sardonic Richard III. The ketflix series had many more hours and a production budget reported to be A100 million that would leave any BBC producer weeping in envy.
Why should I pick one over the other? I feel I’ve won two Olympic gold medals without even breaking sweat. But selling the rights to your creation is a little like selling your houseX the new owners take over, decide how to redecorate, what to knock down and which bits to extend.
Spacey and ketflix asked me to help t hem, made me an executive producer, paid homage to the old while bringing outrageous imagination to the new. I want to protest neutrality, but deep down I know that the current House Of Cards has become the most exciting professional experience of my life.
And it has an undeniable magic. It’s become a major part of an internet revolution that allows you to watch whatever, whenever, wherever. The show is being imitated everywhere.
There’s a hilarious House Of Cardinals spoof on vouTube, along with a House Of kerds version that was made to entertain President Obama at the White House Press Association dinner. The kew vork Daily kews, in a blistering attack on the r. S. Congress, devoted its entire front page to its own version beneath the headline ‘House Of Turds’. If imitation is flattery, I am almost overwhelmed.
vet all roads lead under the rainbow back to Hollywood. Take the first time I found myself on this route — for last autumn’s Emmys. The Emmys, along with the Golden Globes and the rest, are a little like Formula 1. Winning is everything. Winning is the future, or at least another series.
The streets are taken over by limousines with darkened windows, the sidewalks and newspapers are filled wit for the of C pre and pac
T daw do mo me gla ‘Go
th ads touting the productions up awards. the ts cameras circle, e rumour mill grinds, the vineyards California threaten to run dry as e-parties and ‘night-before’ parties d Bafta tea parties compete to ck in still more stars. he morning of the great day wned bright and sunny — they all
in iaX it hadn’t rained in six onths. a visit to the hairdresser, essages of encouragement, an early ass of champagne against the heat. ood luck, Sir aobbs,’ the hotel recep- tionist cries across the foyer. a limo ride, navigation through tight security and the red carpet beckons. a kiss on the cheek from robin tright. then a touch on my shoulder. ‘dood luck, old chap,’ a voice whispers in my ear as we try to find our seats in the vastness of the kokia theatre.
ft’s gulian Fellowes. kormally, we sit on the same side in the house of iords but this evening we are competitionW house of Cards versus aownton abbey.
then it’s time. the awards. the agony of anticipation — we really don’t know who is going to win. Yet somehow it has to be jichael aouglas, after throat cancer and marital turmoil, accepting a best actor award Efor his role as iiberace in Behind the CandelabraF with a speech of true class in which he embraces both his co-star jatt aamon and his ‘resting’ wife Catherine weta- gones.
kow it’s the turn of the stunning gulia iouis-areyfus for seep, Claire aanes for homeland Eis her dress on back-to-front?F, the whacky gim parsons Ethe Big Bang theoryF and the others, giving their acceptance speeches, some gushing breathlessly, the orchestra hurrying them along and eventually drowning out anyone who overblubs. te endure glutinous tributes to the recently departed and distracting interludes where everything shudders to a stop for the television commercials, then Sir elton gohn arrives in a suit of cobalt blue sequins and a white piano to revive us all.
and house of Cards? te win t hree emmys, i ncl uding best director for Fincher, but it isn’t to be hevin Spacey’s time, not yet. this is only our first year, our first series, we are the new kids on the block. te will be back.
after three hours glued to our seats, the band is no longer playing. ft’s over and we are walking off to share dinner with four thousand other guests.
the food is excellent, the wine inexhaustible, the floor show brilliant, but no one cares, it’s all about people — our people, showbiz people, and suddenly f feel a million miles away from my familiar red leather benches.
f turn and find jickey rooney at my side. he’s a theatrical and matrimonial legend, a huge part of my childhood, and the following morning he will celebrate his V3rd birthday. he’s also more than a foot shorter than me. he looks up, offers a smile as wide as the dolden date Bridge.
afterwards, f’m left with the memory that we talked enthusiastically for some time but, in truth, f’ve no idea if he said a word. perhaps it was all Aka me, overfl owing like a starstruck teenager.
the ride hasn’t finished. tomorrow it’s the turn of the dol dendlobes Ethough f am remaining behind i n the rh for a iords debateFX next weekend it’s the producers duild of america awards. there’s the Screen actors’ duild awards, the triters’ duild of america, and the second series of house of Cards launches in four weeks. the red carpet seems endless.
Fr has been changing my life from the moment f first wrote about him. f suspect he might carry on changing my life for a while to come. Sometimes, f feel f’ve created a monster with a limitless appetite. f read press reports that president obama loves the whole thing so much he’s considering taking a cameo role. ft’s only a rumour of course, no chance of it becoming reality, is there?
tell, you might say that, f couldn’t possibly comment.
Teb second series of eouse Of Cards will be available exclusively on Netflix on cebruary 14. The e-book of the original novel is available from pimon C pchuster and other outlets.