"Quiet, please," announced the assistant director in discreet, nicely modulated tones. Griped a nearby veteran American technician: "If we were in Hollywood, he'd be saying 'Shaddup!' " But it was not a Hollywood sound stage they were on last week. It was a picturesque, narrow street in the ancient Wiltshire village of Castle Combe, which was also cluttered with sound trucks, mobile generators, scriptmen, Actor Anthony Newley, giant arc lamps that almost topped the moss-grown roofs of the cottages, and a herd of wondering, chattering villagers pressed against the chicken-wire fence, hastily constructed to keep them at bay. Nor is Castle...
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