At Octane Film Cars, the cars we rent to clients in the TV and film industry are typically a combination of those we own and those we don’t—i.e,. other peoples’ machinery. Much as we might wish otherwise, turns out we can’t own everything. So, we are always happy to enlist outside help. It’s a big, beautiful world out there and somewhere, hopefully not too far away from set, someone’s got what we need. Our motto: “If we don’t own it, we can usually find it. Sometimes.”
That elusive car can be far away. For instance, the super-rare (just 77 produced) 1954 Imperial Crown 8-seat limousine that we brought by enclosed carrier six years ago from its owner in Georgia to a Brooklyn studio. From there it was off to White Plains, New York, for urgent repair (two bolts missing from a steering box that required three, plus a full-on, open-heart transmission situation.) Then it went back to Brooklyn before heading to Oklahoma (you read that right), then back to Brooklyn and over to Staten Island, before returning to Brooklyn, and finally to its Georgia home. All for 15 seconds of screen time.
The owner was delighted, mind you. His Imperial received some essential fixes, and he was paid handsomely on top. When it came to healthy budgets for props that some important someone just had to have, those were the days.
For its part, Octane’s owned fleet of picture cars is very strong in some areas, weak in others. Without question, it reflects management’s longstanding predilection for semi-obscure vehicles. If you want a flotilla of modern NYPD police cruisers and bomb squad vans, you’re likely not going to call us. This requires Job-like patience on our part. In this business, most cars sit around for long stretches without work.
Some of our fleet cars definitely sit around longer than others, mind you. Highlighting a basic fact of picture car-onomics: When cars you own are not working, they’re costing you money. Now that the market for vintage cars appears to be sagging, we’re like any other owner, hanging around, watching value erode. Not necessarily a problem, unless we need to sell.
A gloomy view of the market leads to that sinking feeling you’ve spent money you’ll never see again. The good news is that, as lifelong friends to the automotive friendless, we’re used to it. And, besides, when you—stat!—need a 1936 Riley Kestrel 12/4 Sprite-, or find out that a 1969 Triumph 1300 (Triumph’s one and only homegrown front-driver) is urgently required, you’re probably talking to us.
Often productions will phone looking for something specific, as likely as not old and hard to find. Like the 1930s Morris 8 Tourer that a movie producer simply had to have for the recent Manhattan premier of a movie that featured an 8, one of William Morris, aka Lord Nuffield’s finest. Filmed in England, of course. Which is where—save for some far-flung corner of the Commonwealth—exists the only actual chance of finding a Morris 8 Tourer. Then, incredibly, we found a Morris 8 of the correct vintage not too far away from us. But it had a steel roof. So close, but no Morris. Fortunately for our continued economic viability, we supply modern cars, too, and everything in between.
Other times, we might be asked to purchase a car for a production. For instance, if it’s going to be used often, let’s say with a recurring part in a series, such as the 1993 Alfa Spider we bought for FBI: Most Wanted and supplied for three years until the show got cancelled (RIP). In this scenario, the production is happy to lay out the purchase money, knowing they’ll save beaucoup de cash by not paying a daily rental rate. When it’s over, we get to keep the car. Some cars are more likely than others to be used often, so they might stick around. Others we sell, usually at a discount. See four of the five Jaguar XJ6s seen here earlier, no longer with us.
But best laid plans and all. On occasion, we buy cars ourselves, too, to fill specific requests. As you might suppose, advance notice helps. But not always. A couple years back, we got a reliable early tip that a big-budget show, meant to be set in Paris during the ‘90s, was filming in New York. I thought we’d get out in front of it, go out on a limb, and take advantage of a U.S. dollar riding very high (currency exchange-wise) by acquiring some French cars in the land of their origin. That task was made easier by a favorable exchange rate and a number of cars of this vintage becoming eligible under the so-called 25-year rule, whereby imported cars of that age or greater become exempt from not a huge stretch for us. We’d previously gone on a serious French car bender and already owned a 1965 Peugeot 404 Familale wagon, a 1983 German-market Peugeot 505 sedan, a 1969 Peugeot 504 Coupe, and a 1982 Citroen GSA Break. But then enter a 1997 Renault Twingo, 1973 Renault R4, and from England, a 1967 Renault 16 (with a five-speed from a later 16), as well as a 1984 Renault 5TX (with its one-year-only five-speed) that I’ve latterly discovered—thanks to overseas car scribe pals who drove it when it was new—was a Renault UK press car. Oh, and a 1986 Peugeot 309. These cars’ right-hand-drive configuration gives them a second bite at the apple, for shows “set” in the UK.
So, anyway, we were getting ready to kill it with our French street scene when the show unexpectedly decided to decamp to Paris for several months’ filming instead. Zut, alors!
Our rough luck. Nothing says authenticity like a big budget. So good-bye, New York, hello, Paris, where, needless to say, our services would no longer be required. Sometimes it feels like my longtime musical charges, They Might Be Giants (the band I used to manage), put it best in their song, Snowball in Hell: “If it weren’t for disappointment, I wouldn’t have any appointment.” Is it the general human condition or the specific businesses I’ve chosen to work in? I can never decide.
Then again, it’s not like the project was a total loss. As I’ve grown older, so has my admiration for French cars. Enter, then, a 40,000-mile 1985 Peugeot 505 eight-seat wagon—a French-market car that went to Portugal for several decades before being sold to Holland. It then got shipped to the purchaser’s brother in British Columbia. Now here in New York. I’ll have more about it in weeks to come, but we’re hopeful it works for the business somewhere. Sometimes.
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A man of many pursuits (rock band manager, automotive journalist, concours judge, purveyor of picture cars for film and TV), Jamie Kitman lives and breathes vintage machines. His curious taste for interesting, oddball, and under-appreciated classics—which traffic through his Nyack, New York warehouse—promises us an unending stream of delightful cars to discuss. For more Picture Car Confidential columns, click here. Follow Jamie Kitman on Instagram at @commodorehornblow; follow Octane Film Cars @octanefilmcars and at www.octanefilmcars.com.