In Nineteen Hundred And Ninety Two . . .

Gérard sailed the ocean blue, accompanied by Ridley, in their expensive, ambitious and visually stunning tale of history's most fantastic journey.  Mark Salisbury reports exclusively from the Spanish set of 1492:  Conquest of Paradise . . .

SALAMANCA, SPAIN, JANUARY 11, 1992. The mercury's taken a sudden lurch downwards and is nudging zero as the crew of what is presently being referred to as "Ridley Scott's Columbus" prepare for a scene late in the movie in which Gérard Depardieu, as an embittered, out-of-favour Christopher Columbus, attempts to gain an audience with King Ferdinand of Spain to finance one more expedition to the New World. It's now nine a.m., and they've been at it since first light, cordoning off a normally busy thoroughfare of this picturesque university town, two hours' drive north-west of Madrid, for a scene that will, ten months later, finally appear on screen for less than 30 seconds.

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In the midst of the action, dressed in faded jeans, heavy workman's boots and a blue parka, his hood pulled up over his mop of reddish hair, a cigar protruding at right angles from his lips, is British director Ridley Scott, the irrepressible driving force behind this epic recreation of the life of the Genoan explorer who, 500 years ago this very month, sought a western route to Asia and inadvertently bumped into the Americas instead. A determined, irascible Geordie with a celebrated visual style and an enviable track record, the 53-year-old Scott presides over the proceedings like a genial general, gleefully barking orders, regularly peering through the viewfinders of his two cameras, crafting his vision of 15th century Spain with painstaking attention to detail and a passion bordering on the obsessive.

A crowd of onlookers has already formed, despite the bitterness of the weather and the silliness of the hour, silently engrossed in the scene unfolding before them, waiting patiently for Gérard, whose appearance they are preparing to mark with a loud yell and constant cheering.  "All Salamanca's going to be here by ten o'clock," chuckles the film's Spanish production manager Jose Luis Escolar, a veteran of numerous Almodovar pictures. "Nothing happens here normally."

Two hours later, scene number 154 of what will finally rejoice in the moniker 1492: Conquest Of Paradise is almost ready to be shot. Scott appears satisfied with what his two cameras - used to maximise coverage - will capture of the 326 extras and 20 horses marshalled together on and in front of the steps of a 17th century baroque church in central Salamanca, but something is still not quite right. Scott, famed for his lavish visuals, bravura composition and trademark use of diffused lighting, is not a happy camper. To create exactly the look he has visualised, the ex-Hovis commercials director wants some more smoke.

"Ridley likes his smoke," explains set decorator Ann Mollo, whose job it is to provide the background minutiae - flags, pennants, ornaments, coats of arms, smoke - that lend Scott's films their richness and depth. "He loves things floating in the air - banners, fabric - it the feeling of movement. Ridley's so visual he really uses the things you give him, and frames everything like a painting. "

"Ridley is not a dreamer, he's a visionary," pronounces Gérard Depardieu, bewigged (a grey one) and in full costume, seated on a bale of hay, puffing on a Gitane and patiently awaiting his cue. "He's a true modern artiste, he can conjure dreams from something passionless and technical. He is able to go beyond the technique of the camera, and put it at the service of his imagination."

His desire for more smoke finally satisfied, the object of Depardieu's affections shouts "action", viewing the proceedings on a video monitor positioned next to one of his cameras.  As Depardieu's ageing Columbus confronts king, Scott stares intently at the flickering black-and-white image on the screen before silently following the scene through to its conclusion with the king mounting his steed and riding off out of shot.

"Quite good," mouths Scott with characteristic understatement, signalling for a cut and moving away from the monitor to confer with Adrian Biddle, his Director Of Photography who is reprising his role from Thelma & Louise and renewing a relationship with Scott that dates back to 1977's The Duellists. The crew, well used to the ways of their leader, immediately begin to ready the scene for another take. With Ridley Scott, "quite good" is simply not good enough . . .

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