Blake's 7 – Production Blog

The Facebook message from Producer Andrew Mark Sewell was enticing. Would I be interested in writing the music for two episodes of the audio revival of Blake’s 7? Would I? Does the Pope shit in the woods? Count me in.

What I hadn’t realised was that composing music for audio is not quite the same as writing to picture (although to get a quality end-result it takes every bit as much time). In TV and film, the purpose of music is to accompany visuals, heighten mood, highlight emotion and enhance exposition. It’s the same with audio, of course, except that the visuals are in our heads, so in many ways it’s a harder task to accompany an image that is different for each listener. On top of that, when writing TV and film music it’s common to be able to write expansive or sometimes complex compositions that accompany action without worrying about dialogue. Audio dramas don’t demand long sections of music that are not accompanied by dialogue, so a composer has to be careful not to stomp all over the actors and obscure or detract from the play itself. Subtlety is king. At the same time, Blake’s 7 demands a big ‘filmic’ soundscape, so I had to draw a careful line between understated mood enhancement, and grand, even epic musical dramatics.

Ok, here’s the first of several very lengthy and detailed set of notes from Dominic Devine, the director of the two Cally plays I’m to score. Oh. Was I crazy saying yes to this? Reading this I’m thinking this could possibly take a year or two to complete. What? You need it by the middle of next month? And I’m away in New York for 10 days in early July. And director Dom is in Japan. And Alistair Lock (sound designer extraordinaire) needs to complete post-production on dialogue and sound effects before I can begin. Head buried in hands. Ok then, no point worrying. Let’s just do this thing.

It’s soon quite apparent that these guys really know what they’re doing. The intriguing scripts have been powerfully brought to life by an excellent cast, and then elevated to the next level by some inspired sound design. Dom’s notes may be challenging, but after careful thought I managed to come up with music hopefully to match his vision.

With Dom in Japan, we’re relying on him getting a good connection in an Internet café and checking out each cue as I finish. Eventually modern technology combines with human creativity and between us all, we achieve the end result we hoped for. And within the deadline. No time for sleep, of course, but hey, who cares? We’re doing Blake’s 7, for God’s sake.

Dominic Glynn

Jenna Stannis has grown up on a space station and thinks planets are a bit backward. My original wheeze for a story about her early life was to have teenage Jenna race spaceships with a boy that she fancies.

Script editor Ben Aaronovitch liked the idea, but tossed back my first draft because I had avoided the real physics. He said:

“The B7 universe doesn’t have shields. These are not Star Trek shuttles they’re racing, they don’t swoop, glide, veer etc. They move according to Newtonian physics – sorry.”

At his insistence, I had to go ask my clever friends about orbital mechanics and delta-v.

You can’t race space ships in vacuum. If they’re both the same shape and have the same thrust they’ll be perfectly matched. So my race now takes place through an asteroid field, where the ships get pinged with dust and rocks, and the pilots need skill to keep themselves on a steady course. The dust rattling off the nose cone will also, I’m hoping, make it sound good on audio.

I worried how I’d explain the physics stuff to the listener without bogging down the story in explanation. So I’ve used the complexity of the physics as a plot point. They race without using their ships’ computers, doing all the calculations in their heads. That means they’re also trying to put each other off.

So I’ve got an important plot reason for Jenna mentioning off-hand to the guy she’s racing that she’s not wearing a bra…

Simon Guerrier

I’ve always found naming characters difficult. In my first novel I named the protagonists after people I knew – and killed my friend the writer Scott Andrews more than 40 times in the first nine chapters.

For The Dust Run, I struggled to find tough, plosive names like the ones in Terry Nation’s head. Names to rank alongside Dalek, Blake and Tarrant. And it’s not that easy.

So I thought I’d cheat.

First, Jenna’s friend in The Dust Run was called ‘Kebble’ – which I pinched from a minor character in the 1966 Doctor Who story Power of the Daleks. Script editor Ben Aaronovitch didn’t like that, so I looked through the credits of Terry Nation’s last Doctor Who story Destiny of the Daleks – from 1979, the same era as Blake’s 7. David Yip had played ‘Veldan’, which became the name of the young pilot Jenna knew when she was young. I also pinched ‘Jall’ – played in Doctor Who by Penny Casdagli – for the name of the thief Jenna teams up with in The Trial.

My masters, though, felt that these names sounded too “Sci-Fi”, and wanted something more everyday. So Veldan became ‘Townsend’, after a mate of mine. There was then a great deal of pondering before Jall became ‘Nick’. Which is a good name for a thief.

Simon Guerrier

I was always a big fan of Blake’s 7; especially the composer Dudley Simpson (I’d unwittingly followed his career for much of my childhood – Doctor Who, The Tomorrow People, Blake’s 7) so I jumped at the chance to compose music for a Blake’s 7 audio drama.

I met Andrew Mark Sewell and Alistair Lock to have a chat about the kind of sound they were after. Cinematic was the key word. Big, but not overpowering. The most important thing, after all, in an audio drama is for the listener to be able to understand what’s going on.

With TV and film, a lot of information is taken for granted. You see the action, you pick up the gist of the plot even if you don’t catch all the dialogue. You see a character smile or make a gesture with their hands and you understand what they are thinking. When scoring for TV and Film, you can see and hear when the music works because the characters come to life a little bit more.

But with an audio drama it is more complicated. There are no hand signals. The plot has to be simple enough to follow, the show has to have clarity yet also be exciting enough to keep the listener’s attention. It should take them on a journey without being confusing. The music has to enhance the action and the tender moments without getting in the way.

A tough brief for everyone involved.

I read the scripts for The Dust Run and Trial which were fast paced, full of action and very filmic. I could imagine watching the characters and their space chases at my local Odeon which was a good sign.

Next, Alistair sent me a rough compilation of the dramas without any effects. In essence, the actors performing in the studio without any explosions, space ship crashes etc. This was equally revealing to me and reminds me why I would never make the grade as an actor. After having read the scripts myself, the words simply came to life when hearing them read by proper actors.

I began to get a much clearer picture of what was needed from me. Some of the interrogation scenes needed a bit of extra tension whilst the action scenes needed some fast paced music to help them on their way.

Alistair then sent me the shows with the added effects that he had created in his studio. To hear the characters intercom flight chats in their respective space ships and then to hear them roar off into the galaxy was an amazing transformation. It made my job much easier and I began working out which scenes would need music. Alistair, also a composer – he wrote the main theme – was very helpful in choosing where the music score should go and how it should evolve. He was a very good sounding board and was invaluable at guiding the music in the right direction and, hopefully, avoiding any head-on crashes into the sun.

On hearing the finished shows, all the intricacies of dialogue, effects and music are blended into one complete sonic image. It’s hard to separate any one element and, fingers crossed, will transport the listener to another world.

Simon Russell

My casting notes for The Dust Run and The Trial, as sent to producer Andrew Sewell on 3 August 2009.

Simon Guerrier

WARNING: These notes contain SPOILERS

MAX TOWNSEND

Present-day Max is in his late 20s, the same age as Jenna. Like her, he’s a spacer – he looks down on the backwards lot still living on planets.

When we first meet Max he’s in his teens. Unlike Jenna – who he’d never admit he adores – Max just isn’t a rebel. For all that, the spacer kids are a bit wayward and run around on their own, Max is as authority as they come. His late father was a war hero, and Max treasures the medals – and really needs a dad to sort him out. Like the lower-middle class product of a public school, he’s not posh but his life was mapped out in front of him from the moment he’s born. He’ll be an officer-pilot for the Federation – to him, its old-skool values and heroism, he probably sees it like Dan Dare. And then, when he’s too old to fly, he’ll be a lawyer, and help out the ordinary Joe. A worthy, respectable, useful life.

Except, for Max in his late 20s, it didn’t work out like that. He’s tougher, harder, more battle scarred. This guy’s seen some shit – and been responsible for it, too. His ambitions had to be paid for; and he paid with his soul. Compromises, betrayals, looking the other way – they’ve all taken their toll on him. He’s still charming, in a cold, aloof way. He’s used to getting his own way and doesn’t deal with embarrassment well. He maybe even thinks he’s still one of the good guys.

Max then and now is eager to please those in charge, and to prove himself. He desperately craves approval and is terrified of what people think of him. He wants Jenna to love him, to submit to him. But he wants his masters’ approval more.

NICK

Nick’s a bit of a mystery – Jenna’s not a reliable witness. But he’s older than her, in his early 40s, a charming, smooth professional criminal. Before, he must have preyed on Jenna – a pretty, young thing eager to prove her usefulness. And he must have then tossed her aside. He must have done that all the time.

Nick can handle himself. He’ll kill people when he needs to, even torture them first. Beneath the charm there’s something really very nasty.

He’s wary, he’s used to small, intimate jobs and keeps a low profile. And he’s got his own twisted set of values. He hates the system – sees his criminal life as playing some part in the battle against the Man. And he wants a way out; to retire, or at least to change the life he’s in. Jenna coming back is a chance to redeem himself – to her and in his own mind.

Clever casting director David Hall gets us Benedict Cumberbatch for Townsend and Stephen Lord as Nick. I couldn’t be happier. Hooray!

Benedict Cumberbatch (Townsend), writer Simon Guerrier and Carrie Dobro (Jenna) © B7 Enterprises Ltd

On 1 February 2008, script editor Ben Aaronovitch emailed out of the blue asking if I’d write a half-hour Blake’s 7 play. I’d employed him for a book and some short stories, and he was returning the favour.

He wanted a play for two voices, covering the early years of one of the main Blake’s 7 characters. “I’m doing Gan and Villa and a Servalan one,” he said. “That leaves Jenna as smuggler or Avon/Ensor.” And he needed the play very quickly.

The original plan was to make the story part of a special, 30th anniversary release for late 2008, so I had until 12 February to write my first draft. Managed to do that, and then jetted off to a Doctor Who convention in Los Angeles, where producer Andrew Sewell announced I was on the team.

Ben sent me notes on the script on 13 March, including the note that, “the big crime amongst spacers is putting other people’s life support at risk.” I sent him a revised version two days later.

I wrote a blurb and author notes for the story on 24 March, and on 3 May Ben let me know he and producer Andrew Sewell were happy with the script but wanted actress Carrie Dobro to give her approval. On 19 May, I was asked to explain Jenna’s age in the play – we meet her at three different points in her life.

On 5 August, Ben offered me the chance to include a third character in the play. A week later, I let him know,

“I’ve had a think and written some notes, but I can’t think of a way to have a third character in my Jenna play that makes it any better. Different, yes. But not better. If there’s things you’d like me to incorporate, I’m happy to work them in, but I can’t think of anything I’d like to do to improve it.”

On 19 August, I attended the recording of Young Travis, and had a chat with Andrew and Ben in the pub afterwards about where the series was going and when we’d be recording mine. No, The Dust Run wouldn’t be out by the end of the year.

On 21 April 2009, Ben emailed me, asking if I’d write a second Young Jenna episode, to go on the same CD release. Over the next day, we knocked some ideas back and forth, to which Ben concluded:

“Heroic, sad and ultimately futile – Blake’s 7 in a nutshell”.

On 27 April, I revised he blurb and notes from more than a year previously to incorporate the second story.

I sent Ben a revised version of The Dust Run on 12 May, now including stuff that set up the second episode. I sent another version of this on 31 May, along with the first draft of The Trial.

On 21 June, I provided the same scripts to Ben, this time using the scriptwriting program Final Draft instead of Word. I received notes back on the scripts on 1 July. “The important thing,” he said, “is to make sure that Jenna doesn’t come across as being weak.” I provided revisions on 5 July.

Producer Andrew Sewell then provided additional notes on 14 July. “Think that the sex scenes are too long,” he said. The hope was to record the episodes on 10-11 August. Later that day, Andrew also sent me some notes from director Alistair Lock. I delivered rewrites at 23.49 that same day.

On 3 August I provided character notes for the casting of Townsend and Nick. Andrew sent round final, locked versions of the script on 21 August. On 27 August, I attended the first day of recording for the story – 18 months after The Dust Run was first commissioned.

As I’m signing in at reception, a familiar voice behind me says, “Blake’s 7? Really?” It’s Steven Grief – evil Travis in the first year of Blake’s 7 on TV. He’s working in the studio next door. This, I decide, is a good omen.

Simon Guerrier

Choosing Cally from the cast of misfits who make up Blake’s 7 wasn’t really making a choice at all. When her character was dropped at the end of the third season, I was properly insensed. Cally is the strangest and least human of all of them, and consequently for me, by far the most interesting.

Before the Blake audio adventures, we’d planned a series of animated stories, somewhat in the style of Sin City. I’d bagged the story set on Auron. I wanted to recreate the place in far more detail than we had ever seen on Cally’s only tv return to her home-world in Children of Auron. The concept of a clone society readily lent itself to the stylised graphic visualisation of the series and Cally’s family could expand to a whole army of identical sisters. But I wanted those sisters all to have identities of their own, and not all be the same age. There’d be distinct generations of siblings: youthful Callys, middle aged Callys, older and wiser Callys. There was even a hover-coachload of pre-pubescent Callys on a school outing.

But I also needed to flesh out the sort of society where they grew up. In the original series, the truth about Auron, filtered out in tiny teasing gasps. People were cloned, telepathic and human (or not); Auron was politically neutral, independent and/or isolationist. Cally was a freedom-fighting envoy or a rebel, or both. Loads of contradictions to choose from.

So what would a cloned society be like? A teeming anthill threatening the existence of any individual thinker? A dank Communist state complete with collective farms and compulsory military academies? It had to be a believable society, created out of the isolated circumstances in which it found itself. The Auronar started off as humans and then set off on their own diverging path; a route that scares Auron’s belligerent and disdainful Earth Mother. They don’t want those sort of ideas getting round – particularly if they work.

The Auron Unity began as a small breakaway colony. Its Government of Founders, faced with the need to survive on an uninhabited world and under constant threat from the Federation, started cloning their workforce. Since the small colony lacked a broad gene pool, each original worker had thousands of cloned descendants, born and raised in batches; and that’s where the telepathy started.

On Auron, the sense of family is everything. The Cally family, all sisters, are linked by their telepathic family bond. In a clone’s head, there is the constant wash of family opinion. No-one is alone. Everyone’s nosey. If you want privacy, you learn to shut your sisters out. Without exceptional mental discipline, dissenting rebels have a tough time.

On film, all the Callys can be played by the same actor, but not on audio. That’s a sure way to give the performer/director/sound engineer and the audience nervous breakdowns. But audio stories offer their own angle. I can explore the inner telepathic world of the cloned society in far greater depth.

Down amongst this vast throng of family brothers and sisters, there are also Auronar twins: special case clones bred and raised for joint tasks such as deep space Pilot and Pilot’s Operative back on a patrol ship. Twins have an instant telepathic link which, when employed in space manoeuvres, is more reliable and quicker than radio communication. That special link is what Flag and Flame is all about. It explores the bond between Merrin and Skate, two Cally sisters, living their lives in each others’ heads, faced with the over-powering military demands of the machine that Auron society has become. It’s the individual voice against the all-subsuming Greater Good. What they learn from each other leads one of them to a future far beyond the safety and familiarity of her sisters and their home world.

Flag and Flame was written as a one-off 30-minute play, not enough for a stand-alone CD release, and there were thoughts that we might double its length. Ben Aaronovitch and I both felt that an expansion might dilute the story, so Ben opted to write a prequel, Blood and Earth, set much earlier in Auron’s colonial history, introducing the planet’s bizarre society and the dual worlds of what goes on inside and outside clones’ heads.

We’re back on Auron again in the next set of Blake’s 7 Audio Adventures – more clones, more families, more Callys and a deeply nasty truth at the heart of the Auronar government, which suggests they aren’t quite as isolationist as they want everyone to think.

Marc Platt

Carrie is running around in circles, she runs for at least two minutes before the director (Alistair Lock) asks her to stop. Through the studio window she gives the director a hopeful glance, everyone in the booth holds their breath – finally the director nods and says ‘that’s fine.’

Everyone relaxes, another wild track is ticked off the list and away we go. Wild tracks are a vital component in what we are pleased to call Widescreen Radio and what Alistair, our sound designer and director calls; weeks and weeks of hard work. They’re used to create the layers of sound that our characters move through giving the audio illusion of depth and reality.

Listen to the sequence in Eye of the Machine where Avon and Anna Grant duck out of a gig to have a ‘conversation’ in a nearby corridor; notice the way the background sounds change as they head for the door, it’s practically subliminal but creates a feeling of solidity.

Back in the studio Carrie is choking for the microphones. ‘Could you choke a bit slower?’ asks the director…

Ben Aaronovitch

Rule one for script editors… Always make sure that the writer arrives before you do on the first day of recording.

Why?

Because the actors are always ready with a tricky question the moment they see you. Carrie Dobro wants to know why Jenna is being interrogated about her past. Still in the midst of some serious coffee deprivation I cobble together a plausible sounding answer.

Carrie, a seasoned and intelligent woman who, as a native New Yorker, is blessed with a sophisticated bullshit detector is having none of it. I turn to my producer for help but Andrew’s attitude is that as Script Editor I should know the answer to these things.

I stumble about blindly throwing out explanations at random in the hope that one will satisfy Carrie until finally it’s time to rehearse and I can slink off into the corner and recover. Ten minutes later Simon Guerrier, the writer, arrives.

I put the question to him. ‘It’s all explained in the second script,’ he says. I want to tell Carrie this but she’s already focused on her performance. Hence the lesson – make sure the writer arrives at the studio before you do. They usually know the answer to those difficult questions and even if they don’t you can still use them as a human shield.

Ben Aaronovitch

Welcome to the Blake’s 7 Production blog where, from time to time, members of the Blake’s 7 production team will regale you with tales from the production coalface. We’ve made a decision to try and avoid the bland, public relations inspired, pre-digested, pre-spun, corporate… stuff – that appears on other sites but that means you’ll have to put up with certain things.

1. Sometimes bugger all is happening; writers are writing, producers are negotiating, directors are relaxing on the yachts of Russian oligarchs and actors are in Hollywood becoming major stars. This is the dull grind that makes up 90% of audio and TV production and we’ve not going to inflict it on you. If updates are a bit thin on the ground, it’s not because we’re not working, it’s because what we’re doing is incredibly dull.
2. Many of you are desperate to know about the TV series and we’re desperate to tell you but we can’t – at least not right now. As soon as we can talk about it we will but at the moment we can’t – sorry. However there are many exciting things in the wonderful world of Widescreen Radio coming up in the near future, a new Blake’s 7: Early Years release and another Audio Adventures season under active development so it’s not like we’ve got nothing to say.

That said; we’re going to give you an insight into how Blake’s 7 gets made, as it gets made, by the people who are making it and I promise you we shall do this with as little bullshit as we can get away with.

Ben Aaronovitch