It’s been said in the past that the collective term for photographers is “a whinge”. To be fair, that’s frighteningly accurate as there is nothing most press photographers enjoy more than a good whine about equipment, weather, dull jobs, uncooperative PR people etc. As you may have gathered from my previous posts, I always try to see the positive side but there are times when things don’t go quite to plan.

The other day I was sent down to a famous hotel in London to shoot Ben Affleck (Team America springs to mind..) who was in town to promote his latest film, “Gone baby Gone“. As is sometimes the way, it was going to be a bit of an experiment in cheekiness/blagging/luck as I was warned that the shoot was probably a private event with only pre-approved photographers allowed.

On arrival, I used my usual technique of looking confident/bored to get past the door security and, after asking a passing concierge, found out which room the shoot was in. Heading up to the second floor, I soon found the room with a couple of photographers stood outside. Now, here was the first test; would they immediately query my attendance with the PR people in the room? One of the guys wandered in and asked how many more photographers were coming and I heard the reply “only the set amount”. Hmm.. Keep my head down then..

Eventually, the PR girl comes out, gathers all five of us together and begins to ask where we want to shoot. Soon I find myself up in a room that consensus decides is too dark. Next we head up to the top floor and a beautifully-lit corridor with an open staircase, skylights and pillars. Perfect. Next up is a quick discussion to work out the best shots. Between us we decide on three shots and get into position, waiting for the arrival of the ‘flick..

The lift door opens and out he steps. We slot into position, but no, Mr Affleck has decided he wants to wear a jacket so off he goes, back down to level two to get his garment of choice. By now, I’ve been surfing the crest of this blag now for about 20 minutes but then it all changed.

“Excuse me, where are you from?” asks a PR clone. I tell them, mustering all my ‘of COURSE, I should be here’ body language. “Ah ok”, she says, turning to boss PR clone to let her know that I’m from a “French company”. Ah.. This is beginning to turn..

“Why are you here?” demands boss PR clone. It’s at this point that you can feel it beginning to slip away as all you can do is give it 30 seconds of bluffing “It was all cleared”, followed by “I wasn’t told it was invite only”, ending with the desperation stakes of, “but why can’t I stay? AFP is the third largest agency in the world! It’s vital publicity for your film!”

I was descending in the lift within seconds. As I arrive on the ground floor, concierge radios blip into life to alert them to the dodgy photographer on the premises and to make sure I leave their fine hotel.

I can’t say I was best pleased. The combination of being SO close to pulling off a blag like that combined with being only spotted due to “Mr. Affleck” deciding on a wardrobe change makes me an unhappy camper. What makes it worse is that I wasn’t really bothered about getting a shot of him. The challenge of getting it was more appealing than actually having it! I guess I won’t be quite making the Mission/Impossible team JUST yet..

As you may have gathered, due to my complete failure in completing my Mission du Jour, I have had to grab an image of Ben from other sources. I’m particularly fond of it though..