Though there were no film acting roles on George Michael\u2019s CV, the late singer could still claim to have worked with Lindsay Anderson , the legendary Free Cinema pioneer and director of the influential and incendiary 1968 film If… (not to mention former film critic of this parish).
Both men\u2019s obituary writers tended to overlook this unlikely collaboration but then that\u2019s scarcely surprising given that it never really saw the light of day \u2013 at least not in the form that Anderson intended.
He was at an odd stage of his career in the early 1980s. He had been on both sides of the critical divide, having made a rare acting appearance in 1981 in the widely-adored, Oscar-winning Chariots of Fire before then facing critical opprobrium and public indifference in 1982 for his savage state-of-the-nation satire Britannia Hospital , which used the ailing institution of the title as a metaphor for the country.
He turned down another acting role, as the Emperor in Return of the Jedi , and was having his usual difficulty getting a movie off the ground when he was offered the chance to return to his documentary roots by shooting a film about the first western pop group to play in China. That group was Wham!
Anderson, who was then almost 62-years-old, was reluctant at first, as he so often was. \u201cHave I the energy? The curiosity? The conviction?\u201d he wrote in his diary after being offered the job in March 1985. \u201cHow on earth have two (lower) middle class boys from Watford managed to transform themselves into these vibrant figures of pop myth\u2026? It\u2019s a complete mystery.\u201d
Still, he pressed on, and had lunch with George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley. \u201cI have really nothing to say to them: confident, bright, uninteresting, respectable, of the Eighties . .. I get the impression they will be reasonably cooperative. Certainly not inspiring.\u201d
The trip was not, all things considered, a huge success. Anderson suffered some medical setbacks. He had rheumatism so severe that he had to use the fingers on his left hand to prise open the ones on his right. Then he tore a ligament while shooting at the Great Wall of China.
He learned that Michael didn\u2019t like being photographed and so the film became more of a portrait of the Chinese people and the gentle culture clash that occurred with Wham! in their midst.
In 1986, Anderson admitted that he had accepted the commission \u201cin a spirit of curiosity. Curiosity about China and curiosity about the odd confrontation of China and Wham! \u2013 and even a certain curiosity, not very great, about the phenomenon of Wham! itself.\u201d
But during shooting it dawned on him that he was \u201cnot engaged to direct a film of Wham! in China \u2013 I was engaged to occupy the position of director .\u201d
A rough cut, titled If You Were There , was viewed by the band\u2019s managers, Simon Napier-Bell and Jazz Summers, in October 1985. Though it was incomplete, suggestions and criticisms were put to Anderson, who responded by writing personally to Michael:
\u201c[Y]ou know that when people who don\u2019t really understand the creative process \u2013 whether it is film or music \u2013 start formulating criticisms and making demands on a work in progress, it is only too easy for the whole enterprise to founder. .. Jazz and Simon both seem terrified of you \u2013 which may be useful sometimes but at other times can be dangerous. I certainly have enough respect for your creative verve and intelligence not to be scared to show you the work, and of course, to be interested in your feelings about it.\u201d
Michael never replied to the letter (though he did see Wham! in China! , as it was now called, at a screening which Anderson said \u201cwent extremely well\u201d). The director heard in November that the film was being taken off him and recut.
The finished film moved Wham! to the forefront and China to the background. In the course of researching a Radio 4 documentary about Anderson in 2008, the journalist John Harris saw Anderson\u2019s cut and called it , \u201ca rich, poetic, panoramic portrait of China\u2019s strangeness to the eyes of outsiders\u2026\u201d
Its defining flaw, according to Michael, was that it hadn\u2019t felt \u201cmodern\u201d enough.
Anderson died in 1994. His archive is at the University of Stirling and letters held there reveal his fury at the butchering of his film. He called Michael, \u201ca shivering aspirant plucked out of the street, who turns almost overnight into a tyrant of fabulous wealth, whose every command his minions must dash to execute\u201d and \u201ca young millionaire with an inflated ego. . [whose] vision only extends to the top 10 . .. It\u2019ll be interesting to see if there\u2019s any limit to his reckless autocracy.\u201d
Michael apparently blocked a proposed screening at Stirling of Anderson\u2019s version. Andy Stephens, the singer\u2019s then-manager called it \u201ca dreadful film\u201d. But Anderson told his diary: \u201cI do think that between them the Whammies have destroyed, or suppressed, an enjoyable, informative, entertaining and at times even beautiful film.\u201d
The original cut is available to view privately at Stirling. Whether Michael\u2019s death means that it will now be made more widely available (as with, say, Stanley Kubrick and A Clockwork Orange ) is another matter. For now it will have to carry on being the answer to a pub quiz question as well as a jigsaw piece, out-of-reach if not exactly missing, for completists of singer and filmmaker alike.
One of the clich\u00e9s about celebrity life is that all celebrities know each other. Back in the Eighties, when we were moderately famous, Ben and I did often bump into other famous people, and because of mutual recognition, there was a sort of acquaintance, if not friendship.
There was a random element to it, as well. Some celebrities you might never catch a glimpse of, while others seemed to pop up with an unexpected regularity.
In 1987, the car we drove was a 1970s Austin Princess, all leather seats and walnut dashboard. In many ways, it symbolised what people thought of as the basic qualities of our band: unassuming, a little bit quirky, a little bit vintage. We\u2019d had it for a year or so, but Ben was running out of patience. It had a habit of letting us down at inconvenient moments \u2013 for instance, at the top of the long, steep climbs that you encounter when driving through Italy, which we had just recklessly done for a holiday. The car was such a novelty out there that it attracted crowds whenever we parked. They would gather round, nodding appreciatively, stroking the bonnet and murmuring, \u201c Bella macchina. . .\u201d
Having recently banked a couple of royalty cheques, Ben was thinking of a complete change of style \u2013 a rock\u2019n\u2019roll, grand-gesture kind of car.
\u201cI wanna get an old Mercedes 300 SL,\u201d he said to me.
\u201cWhat\u2019s one of those?\u201d
\u201cI\u2019ll let you know next time we pass one,\u201d he said.
We were driving through London in the Princess, and as we swung round into Sloane Square, Ben called out, \u201cThere\u2019s one, look, coming up on the inside now!\u201d I looked round at this vision of gleaming steel and chrome, gliding along effortlessly beside us, and at the same moment the driver glanced over towards our funny little car. We made eye contact, then the Merc roared away. It was George Michael.
\u201cThat was George Michael!\u201d we both shouted. \u201cAnd he was driving the car we want!\u201d
We\u2019d always had a soft spot for George, even though we seemed to inhabit opposite ends of the pop spectrum. He\u2019d once been on a TV review show and said nice things about our first album, and I knew he had liked my solo single \u201cPlain Sailing\u201d. We\u2019d done a miners\u2019 benefit gig where Wham! had appeared, slightly out of place in their vests, tans and blond bouffants. There had been a bit of sneering because they\u2019d mimed. But I remember thinking, \u201cGood on you for even being here.\u201d Their presence showed that being politically active, or even just caring , wasn\u2019t the sole preserve of righteous indie groups.
A couple of weeks later, we were driving along again in the Princess, when who should pull up beside us in traffic? George again. He wound down his window, and so did we. He was charming and called across to say that, yes, he had recognised us the other day in Sloane Square. He went on to complain that BBC Radio 1 wouldn\u2019t play his new single \u201cbecause it was too crude\u201d. \u201cWhat\u2019s it called?\u201d asked Ben. \u201c \u2018I Want Your Sex\u2019!\u201d he shouted, and roared away again, leaving us laughing.
We\u2019d made up our minds by now, and so we went down to the showroom, flashed the cash, bought the pop-star car and spent the next few weeks driving our parents up and down the motorway with the roof off. It was amazing: even I had to admit that it was a thrill to be speeding along in such a machine.
A little time passed. We were happy with our glamorous new purchase, when one day we were driving down the M1 and, yes, you\u2019ve guessed it, in the rear-view mirror Ben saw the familiar shape coming up behind. \u201cBloody hell, it\u2019s George Michael again. I think he must be stalking us.\u201d
George pulled out into the lane alongside and slowed down as he drew level with us. We wound down the windows. He gave the car a long look, up and down, smiled that smile and said, \u201cThat\u2019s a bit more like it.\u201d Then he sped away from us for the last time.
Cheers, George. You were friendly, and generous, and kind, and you were good at being a pop star.<\/p>\n

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