Monocled Alchemist

The Grand Prix world of Max le Grand

Grand Prix | Photography | June 1967 | TWENTY-SEVEN-YEAR-OLD Maximilian Wren Le Grand had a secondary school education but was undecided about a career on reaching school-leaving age so was sent to the Medway College of Art, Rochester, for a course in graphic design. After six months at college he showed inclinations towards photography so put full effort into this sphere for three years under Norman Tudgay and Tom Buckeridge. After being expelled for high spirits at a college function he walked straight into a job at the National Magazine Company, working with Kenneth Swain on the Good Housekeeping cookery books, and doing other work for She magazine, Vanity Fair, House Beautiful and other house publications.

His next job was at the studios of the late Baron, where he assisted many top portrait photographers. Baron studios were above the Steering Wheel Club in Brick Street, where staff were allowed to have lunch, and during visits to the club he met many people in a sport about which he was already enthusiastic and his interest aroused in the field of motoring photography.

In time his work was recognised by a new magazine which appeared in 1962 under the banner of Small Car—a full-colour publica-tion which was the first to use his colour work. He has remained with this magazine (which has since become Car) as a contributor. Other prospective clients spotted his work and gradually he built up a reputation and subsequently travelled all over the world to motoring events. He contributes regularly to Autocar, Motor Racing and Car in this country, and his work also appears in South Africa, America, Australia and in European publications.

In 1965 he was voted into second place on the Motor Racing Photographic Awards presented by the Ford Motor Company. His was the only colour photograph entered and from this resulted a showing in a Kodak exhibition of Britain’s top ten motor racing photographers. At the same time Kodak recognised his work by giving him a special display in their Regent Street showroom.

He uses an Asahi Pentax and a Yashica-Mat, Ektachrome film exclusively, and Tri-X for black-and-white work. He is now branching out into travel photography and journalism, and is shortly embarking on a trip to little-known parts of the world. The following is an account of his adventures after becoming involved in the block-busting film spectacular, Grand Prix.

“Film directors hate to see un-official photographers on their locations, but while film stars continue to attract public interest, the national press will always delegate their hard-skinned operators to uncover plots. The Italians are probably the most persistent at this game, continually evolving ways of exposing provocative shots which create a good ‘scandal’ picture.

“In my particular case, as a Grand Prix motoring photographer, the scales, if anything, are balanced in my favour. I travel to racing circuits all the year round in various parts of Europe, Western countries and the Far East. The clever operator in this field can make a stable living throughout the season. He will not get rich, but he will see the world and enjoy a unique companionship with the drivers, team managers and other parties concerned with the sport.

“So when, at the beginning of the new Grand Prix season of 1966, we all went to Monte-Carlo, a surprise awaited us. Inmates of the game had already heard that Hollywood film director John Frankenheimer was going to be in the principality to make the opening scenes for his first real gigantic epic Grand Prix, a film delving into the reason why men endanger their lives rushing round the circuits of the world in what looked to be mobile death-beds.

“Frankenheimer had himself raced in small national events in America. He soon realised he was not made of the same kind of material which builds a racing driver, but he could—from his small experience—appreciate why they preferred to face such risks instead of working in the city.

“He broke into show business through the medium of television, and eventually paved his own way into the film world. Ardent filmgoers were quick to notice that the stamp which branded a Frankenheimer film was the incredible lengths the director went to in seeking absolute authenticity of all his sets and action filled scenes. In fact, apart from a few occassions, Frankenheimer has never used a studio; never wanting to fool his viewing public. What you see on the screen in Grand Prix actually happened, and it is true to say that no faking at all was needed to produce some of the incredible sequences which can be seen.

Grand Prix | Photography | June 1967

“On arrival, many people, including myself, were furious at the way this huge production intruded upon the actual Grand Prix race. The event in itself floods the town with thousands of people. So when a massive Hollywood film company—equally bent on getting their job done properly—invade this tightly-packed resort on the Cote d’Azur, tempers got frayed.

“The Grand Prix Company” (as the film production became known) was also going to locate itself at the Grands Prix of Belgium, Britain and Italy. It was on the Belgium location that I made my first real contact with Frankenheimer. In spite of the upheavel the production was causing, it created a great deal of curiosity. In my spare time away from the real business I would wander down to the film set and watch the interesting way the director portrayed each individual.

“All the genuine personnel—right from the drivers, through the team managers, mechanics, pit-popsies, anguished wives, officials and members of the press—were duplicated by actors and fully paid film extras. I was immediately interested to see how motor racing photographers were portrayed, and I’m afraid their trackside behaviour was rather alarming. Obviously, film extras cannot be expected to know just where to place themselves out of danger’s way while a race is in progress. But my own pride was somewhat deflated at the sight of their behaviour, the way they handled their cameras, and how they reacted to an alarming situation.

“I had a word with Frankenheimer about my feelings, and to my astonishment he was completely sympathetic—his attitude being, if I wasn’t as happy as I might at the way his people acted, then I should advise them!’

Grand Prix | Photography | June 1967

“Frankenheimer then moved to Brands Hatch for a month of location work, and at his invitation I went along to the Kent racing circuit to offer help.

“By now, the company had gelled together; nobody was a stranger anymore and I found I could talk about the film quite freely with any of the principal actors. It was during a day when shooting was rained off, and most of the cast were confined to their quarters, that Frankenheimer invited me along to his caravan for a long talk about the relationship motor racing photographers had with the racing fraternity.

“I was quite honest with him when I said we had a very close working relationship, and that the drivers—more than anybody else—realised the risks we take to get photographs of them in action. I went into the details over the great lengths to which drivers go when tuning a racing car to a circuit, and how technically-good photographs help to answer many questions as to why the car developed such a characteristic on a certain bend. The reason for crashes and mechanical failures are in many cases found in black-and-white, so we play a very important role—not just to the publications to whom we are committed, but to those who provide the action, the man who designs the car, and even the officials who organise the race.

“Tethering my information with advice from colleagues, Frankenheimer came to the conclusion the only people who could project this feeling were the photographers themselves. I was one of three photographers chosen to actually appear in the film. The routine was simple, Frankenheimer pulled the scenes into shape, and then left us to appear in just the way we would as if working.

“This was just a small case of his thoroughness. He hired professional Grand Prix drivers to conduct his mock-up racing cars. He used real officials, flag marshals; and at Monza the whole Ferrari team was filmed going through the routine of race car preparation.

“If anything, Frankenheimer has heightened the status of the racing photographer, and put the poor fellow—who has to work in all weather conditions—on the same parallel as the journalist. Not only did he insist on our appearing in his circuit shots; he also gave us prominent space on the screen on some interior shots made at social functions and team parties—minus our cameras, and just being ourselves.

“He allowed us the privilege of having film in our cameras during actual shooting—something completely unheard of in the past. In exchange he used our authentic racing shots from which he re-constructed complete scenes, and wrote them into the script as he went along.

“The story upon which he hangs all this action and atmosphere is a pretty fluffy one to say the least. In fact (he assured me) the viewing public will be so knocked out by his all-action sequences on a giant panamatic screen, they will be too breathless to take in the romantic interludes! Cannot help but think I shall miss this diversion in 1967 . . . “

Grand Prix | Photography | June 1967