Woody Watches: Deep Water

by BRETT WOODWARD

Donald Crowhurst believed that he was in direct communication with cosmic beings. Gradually he came to understand the grand galactic plan for his immortal soul, felt at one with the universe, leapt off his visionary triple-hulled yacht and drowned in the becalmed and mysterious Sargasso Sea!

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I had a gap in my dance card at this year's Melbourne International Film Festival and trotted along to Deep Water. I was hoping to catch up on lost sleep, dozing in a warm and comfy seat at the Regent Theatre, but was nailed to the screen in a matter of minutes by this phenomenal documentary, one of the five best of the 65 films I saw during the 2007 festival. Deep Water ticks all the right boxes: an extraordinarily well-made documentary about an amazing true-life story that is profoundly stranger than fiction.

Donald Crowhurst got in over his head if you'll pardon the precedent for nautical puns already set by the title of this doc. A quiet, clever bloke working as an electrical engineer; somewhat of a kitchen professor; a 35-year-old dad and a weekend sailor. A series of chance meetings, some loose talk and before he knew it, Crowhurst had dobbed himself in to design and build a revolutionary tri-maran - from scratch! - and race it solo around the world. In a softly-spoken, well-mannered, polite British way this was complete insanity.

Before he could say "I have no qualifications to do this and will almost certainly die at sea!" Crowhurst had a serious financial sponsor, a sleazy business manager and a binding contract that would see his family's life ruined if he didn't go through with the challenge. London's Sunday Times came up with the idea for the Golden Globe, the first single-handed, non-stop, round-the-world yacht race. The winner would receive 5000 pounds and a plum spot in the history books.

Crowhurst, under immense pressure, built the space-age Teignmouth Electron, the three hull tub in which he would circle the planet. It began leaking minutes after he dunked it in the Thames and was experiencing serious structural failures before Crowhurst even got it to the starting line! At the point of a stress induced nervous breakdown, he set sail, cheered on by thousands. The end had begun.

The salty secret and subsequent scandal is legendary. Alone at sea, Crowhurst realised that he was doomed. There was no path he could take or decision he could make that wouldn't result in his total disgrace and ridicule, financial ruin and the loss of all that was precious to him. Pulling out of the race or sinking were unthinkable. Suicide seemed a preferable option and even that would mean his widow and children left mourning, distraught, humiliated and penniless.

A plan formed in Crowhurst's mind as he bobbed off the coast of Brazil, bailing salt water from his leaking yacht: he would remain for as long as he could in relatively safe water, close to land; he would falsify his log books and radio communications to make it seem as though he was progressing through the race course; he would wait for the other contestants to complete the circumnavigation of the globe and then secretly join them for the home stretch. Brilliant!

Crowhurst set about taking care of the details. He radioed in bogus reports of technical problems to explain long weeks without contact. He sent bizarrely worded communiques that hinted at false positions. He planned to ease into a poor placing in the race so that officials would be disinterested in checking his logs too closely - and then he got lucky, or unlucky, depending which was you look at it.

Fellow contestants began sinking, pulling out of the race and just plain going crazy. French sailor, Bernard Moitessier, making good time in second place, lost his mind. He claimed to have found some profound inner peace in the long, lonely months at sea and saw his future entirely on the crest of the next wave. In a fragmented and disturbed letter to his family, Moitessier farewelled them, changed course and began a second circle of the globe. He was found weeks later, beached on an isolated stretch of Caribbean coastline, delusional, malnourished and dehydrated.

Attrition eventually claimed almost the entire field, bar one yacht. It soon became apparent that Crowhurst, by default, was going to come close to winning no matter how hard he tried to lose. Press coverage was unprecedented and his elated and unscrupulous business manager managed to get a message to the suicidal sailor that a crowd of more than 100,000 people would be waiting for Crowhurst to cross the finish line.

By this point Crowhurst was off the map: mentally, physically and geographically. He had altered his log books all right. They had become the rambling diary of a desperate man who had lost his sanity to the endless horizon and mountainous waves of the Southern Ocean. Thousands of words spewed forth: religious and philosophical rants; paranoid and delusional diatribes; confessions, accusations and hallucinations.

On a whim Crowhurst altered course for the Sargasso Sea, location of hundreds of marine disasters and disappearances. He believed that he was in touch with metaphysical entities that control man's destiny and - the evidence would suggest - fell or threw himself overboard.

Britain was in shock. The press painted Crowhurst as the underdog, the bloke next door who braved wild weather and a remorseless ocean to push the boundaries of human endurance. He was a national hero and his death in sight of victory was devastating.

Tragedy, unfortunately, is tabloid gold. The Coast Guard captain that salvaged the derelict Teignmouth Electron had found Crowhurst's diary of a madman. An honourable chap, he hid it from prying eyes until he could consult the journalist that had covered Crowhurst's story from the very beginning, a man that had become the luckless sailor's close friend. The pair decided - in agreement with Crowhurst's business manager - that they should keep the secret, save the family's reputation and let the public go on believing in a lost champion. Later that day the business manager sold the scandal to the highest bidder.

Deep Water is quality documentary cinema that deserves its theatrical release. It's a story too big for the TV screen. The event received astonishing coverage at the time and co-directors Louise Osmond and Jerry Rothwell also had access to Crowhurst's own 16mm footage taken during the race! Consequently, the abundance of archival images illustrates the wild tale as though it happened yesterday rather than nearly 40 years ago.

Sublime music comes courtesy of Molly Nyman, eldest daughter of the renowned Michael Nyman and an accomplished film composer in her own right. The documentary is painstakingly researched; new interviews with all the 'survivors' are lovingly assembled; the film is wonderfully told with great sympathy and narrated by Tilda Swinton. A rare experience, Deep Water splashes across screens from mid-October and gets nothing but the highest of praise from me.

More information about Brett's cartoons, books & writing at his myspace thing.

17 October 2007

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