Forgotten British Film Moguls: Jake Eberts

The power behind Goldcrest Films

by Stephen Vagg

Jake Eberts was not a typical mogul. A bespectacled, frizzy haired Canadian with a background in chemistry and banking, a man more comfortable with balance sheets and finance reports than being on a set, and who never presumed to be a filmmaker – he would dislike being called a “mogul”. But he was responsible for some of the greatest British films of all time, as well as the flaming comet that was Goldcrest Productions.

Most of the information in this piece comes from a 1990 book by Eberts and Terry Ilott, My Indecision is Final, one of the greatest accounts of a film production company ever written, astonishing in its depth and thoroughness. It can’t be recommended highly enough if you’re interested in 1980s film funding – which we recognise is a small demographic but probably includes readers of this magazine.

Eberts was born in 1941 in Montreal, Canada. He worked as a chemical engineer then a banker, eventually moving to London. He became involved in film production when asked to raise funds for the animated movie Watership Down (1978); he was successful, the film was a hit, made a profit, and Eberts got the film bug. In the late 1970s, he set up Goldcrest, which was originally meant to fund development of projects, costs which would then be recouped when the project got up. Eberts did this on films like Black Jack (1979), Breaking Glass (1980), and The Plague Dogs (1982).

Despite the good luck of Watership Down, Eberts made a lot of mistakes in his early days, notably giving a personal guarantee to a loan for Zulu Dawn (1979), which caused him chronic debt for many years. However, he was very smart, hardworking, learned from his mistakes, and had luck.

Eberts developed a sensible, clever, sustainable strategy – keep overheads low, make a diversified product, aim for class but also films that were different and could be summarised in one sentence, back experienced teams rather than new talent. Goldcrest’s international connections saw them invest money in The Howling (1980) and Escape from New York (1980), but the bulk of their output would be British films. It had early success with Chariots of Fire (1981), but their big one was Gandhi (1982), Richard Attenborough’s passion project, which Goldcrest found itself having to pay for more than it intended – but which reaped a rich dividend, critically and commercially. No one much talks about Gandhi anymore, but it’s a beautiful film that holds up surprisingly well.

Goldcrest went on a hot streak, which saw it acclaimed as the saviour of the British film industry, investing in such movies as Local Hero (1983), The Dresser (1983), Another Country (1984), and The Killing Fields (1984). It also moved into television, with the series Robin of Sherwood and some TV movies released theatrically such as P’tang Yang Kipperbang, Forever Love, and The Ploughman’s Lunch. There were some flops such as Dream One (1984), Enigma (1982), An Unsuitable Job for a Woman (1981) and Cal (1984), but overall, Goldcrest’s record was – and remains – immensely impressive. Everything it did aimed for class.

Success, however, brought troubles – in particular, over expansion and power struggles within the company as it grew. Eberts found himself uneasy within the company he had founded, as well as losing power to managing director James Lee, a management consultant with a smooth manner and nice head of hair who everyone liked. The success of Gandhi made Eberts a hot property amongst Hollywood executive ranks; when Goldcrest would not meet his salary demands, he accepted an offer to work for Embassy Pictures in the US, leaving James Lee in charge of Goldcrest.

Both developments proved disastrous. Eberts’ association with Embassy was a failure, his only project of note being The Emerald Forest (1985), which he’d developed at Goldcrest. But it was only a failure in that Eberts failed to raise money for Embassy projects. Lee’s reign as head of Goldcrest was truly catastrophic – the company tried to turn itself into a mini Hollywood major, overheads skyrocketed, its unprofitable television arm expanded, new head of production Sandy Lieberson (whose salary, according to My Indecision is Final, was basically what Eberts had asked for) insisted they move premises, so he could have a nicer office, the company passed up the chance to make The Mosquito Coast with Jack Nicholson and The Emerald Forest, and instead pumped money into three expensive films that ultimately killed the company: Revolution (1985), Absolute Beginners (1986), and The Mission (1986).

Revolution and Absolute Beginning were particularly chaotic productions with scripts in constant flux that went hugely over budget; The Mission looked amazing, made with a lot more discipline (David Puttnam produced) but was hurt commercially by its depressing nature (spoilers: the slave traders win at the end) and was markedly racist for an ostensibly small “l” liberal movie (all the indigenous characters are basically depicted as simple children). All three films have things to commend them, incidentally – great scenes, music, etc – but all cost far too much money. Years later, Hugh Hudson got the chance to recut Revolution and add narration as Revolution Revisited. This did not fix things, although some slack jawed critics inevitably claimed it did.

In fairness, under Jame Lee, Goldcrest did invest in Dance with a Stranger (1985), Room with a View (1985), and Smooth Talk (1986) – all quality, profitable movies (and Eberts had rejected the first two). It sunk a lot of money into three big projects that were never made, none of which sound exciting – Mandrake, Horror Movie, and Dream Song. However, the money drain of Absolute Beginners/Revolution/The Mission/television proved too hard to overcome: James Lee resigned from Goldcrest and Jake Ebert came back to the company. Eberts spent 14 months trying to fix things at Goldcrest, seeking new financing, investing in some interesting films like White Mischief and Hope and Glory, but the release of the cursed trifecta killed the company for good. Goldcrest was wound up and its assets sold off in 1987.

Eberts had a successful career post-Goldcrest. He formed a new company, Allied Filmmakers, and went back to doing what he wanted to do when he started up Goldcrest – keeping low overheads, working with experienced and reliable filmmakers on classy projects, focused on development. His track record of films was pretty good – they included efforts like The Name of the Rose (1986), Dances with Wolves (1989), Driving Miss Daisy (1990), Black Robe (1991) and Chicken Run (2000) – as well as, it must be admitted, flops such as Texasville, The Legend of Bagger Vance, Grey Owl, and Super Mario Bros. He also ran National Geographic Feature Films which made March of the Penguins (2005). When he died in 2012 he was genuinely mourned.

James Lee’s head of hair and affable nature saw him continue to be appointed to boards of things like Scottish Screen. He sounds like a very nice man. But he killed Goldcrest.

It is possible to run a successful film studio in England – this is proved by the success of production companies such as Anglo-Amalgamated, Working Title, Associated British and Allied Filmmakers. The principles are always the same – low overheads, international outlook, financial discipline, strong management, working in concert with Hollywood majors. Just as the reasons behind collapses are always the same (British Lion, Rank, Palace Pictures, Handmade Films, ITC, EMI Films) – financial ill-discipline, trying to compete with Hollywood directly, large overheads.

Canada has produced a significant amount of film moguls over the years – Louis B. Mayer, James Cameron, Harold Greenberg, Ivan Reitman – but few have been as successful as Jake Eberts. And few opportunities are as missed as Goldcrest in the 1980s.

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