Staffan, Dear Friend

I hope that Staffan will be remembered as the Grand Old Man of Swedish Documentary, although he was also a fine writer, especially in personal and family matters. His autobiography is a revelation, detailing how he was shamefully neglected by his parents. How he was able to overcome his upbringing is a tribute to something special in his character, which he once explained to me. In the course of a conversation, I remarked that he was the best-balanced person I knew, meaning his attitude towards other people and life in general. “You should have seen me before I went through therapy,” was his reply.

Staffan and I met at Sveriges Radio, where both of us worked in the early ‘Sixties, when TV was still in its infancy in Sweden. We quickly became close friends, and Staffan enlisted me to work on a couple of Swedish films.  Although I had worked on films back in England, it was at the most debased level - apprentice to assistant editor; at Swedish TV I managed to graduate to assistant editor; Staffan had much more experience in films than me, he had even been an actor, so it was a privilege to be trusted by him as a cameraman

We seemed a natural fit. From there, we formed a team that embarked on an ambitious series called Engelska Bilder  that we managed to squeeze a pitiful amount of money for from Swedish TV; the 4 films - Public School, Immigranter, Royal Hospital, and Strip (this made with expatriate American Don Defina as co-director) - still find a world audience.

In 1968, an expedition to Cuba to film the International Congress of Intellectuals ended in our being arrested for filming the harbour without official permission. During our stay in jail, I had the experience of watching Staffan’s easy adaptation to prison life - he had already served a term in Sweden, for being a conscientious objector, refusing to do time in Sweden’s military. While in jail, we were visited by Staffan’s father, who coincidentally was one of the intellectuals invited to the Congress; the embarrassment this caused the Cuban authorities must certainly have helped shorten our stay to the three days we spent in jail before being deported - without the film we had shot of the Congress.  But it made a good news story anyway.

By the late ‘Sixties, I had moved back to England, and then was offered some work in the States, moved there, married Joy, and had Meka, our first daughter.  In 1974, Staffan came over to work with me for a while, among other films making Paperback Vigilante, the story of Howard Hunt, the Watergate conspirator.

Staffan’s experience with children resulted in Meka and him enjoying one another’s company, and during those several months, he had as much influence on her upbringing as her parents.

Where we lived at that time was Upstate New York, in an area known as the Borscht Belt because of its heavy Jewish population. It was a popular vacation area for New York City’s Jewish population, although it had begun to fade. It left abandoned hotels and a reputation for fashioning Jewish actors and comics who would later go on to fame in Hollywood. Staffan, with his Jewish roots, was entranced by the mythology. Before he returned to Sweden, he urged me to make a documentary about it, which I did, Rise & Fall of the Borscht Belt.  It has been quite successful, and I am grateful for Staffan’s suggestion, only regretting that we did not make it together.

We made just one more film together, Counterpoint, in the States and Norway, about the famous U-2 American spy incident. Staffan married, and started his own family, which kept him in Sweden; I was able to follow some of his work of videos and books, which reveal his natural sympathy for society’s unfortunates. We were able to meet all too seldom but kept up a lively correspondence.

Staffan’s last years were difficult, to say the least, but he had the care of a loving family. We were able to meet only a couple of times, but kept up a lively correspondence until it became too difficult.

Such a description as this cannot do justice to our relationship, which was that of close and lifelong friendship. Staffan exists in my memory and in dozens of photos and letters. He was as close as a brother, a mentor, instructor in psychological understanding. I missed his physical presence, but his influence helped to form my craft, and will remain with me until the end.

Perhaps this photo from the projection room at Swedish TV expresses it best.