Article by Sophia Barraclough who worked for two weeks in Special Collections as part of the Professional Pathways internship programme run by the University. Sophia is studying for a BA in English and French at Exeter.
As part of the Henry Williamson archives, I had the opportunity to explore the material relating to the development and production of David Cobham’s Tarka the Otter film. This was an engaging task due to the remarkable variety of material this collection included. Within the archives were letters, draft scripts, shooting schedules, production photographs, promotional posters, and many other documents that map the film’s journey from its earliest ideas to its release. Following this progression through the archive offered a rare insight into every stage of filmmaking, from creative development and editorial decisions to the practical realities of production and marketing. Furthermore, there is a strong sense of place embedded in the archives. Since the novel Tarka the Otter was based in North Devon, the film was shot there and exploring the documents offered the chance to connect the archival record with landscapes that resonate with the University of Exeter’s environment. This connected the close relationship between Williamson’s writing, Cobham’s adaptation and the place that inspired them both.
Williamson was closely involved in the film’s early development, producing multiple drafts and documents relating to his concept for the film. Ultimately, the final version of the film’s script was co-written by the naturalist and author Gerald Durrell and the film’s director David Cobham.
What greatly adds to the intrigue of studying these archives are the traces of human thought within them. Across documents from the collection are handwritten annotations, crossings-out, and revisions that offer a glimpse into Williamson’s thought process and allow a sense of connection to the constantly evolving nature of creative output. Even physical traces can be spotted across the documents that reflect this idea that the papers were handled, discussed, and revised over the years, such as ink smudges, folded corners or the faint ring of a coffee mug.
Each part of the collection combines to form a larger picture; early script drafts lead into correspondence between Williamson and Cobham, which in turn connect to production schedules, location planning, photographs and promotional material. Individually these items tell only part of the story but together they reveal not only the practical steps involved in making the film but also the gradual evolution of creative ideas into a finished production.
Williamson’s initial drafts and writing reflected his ideas on how the plot should unfold across the Tarka the Otter film. His original vision of the film was centred on his ex-soldier character called Phillip Maddison who would find Tarka and take her to safety. The plot, as Williamson himself described, was supposed to be a “human drama”. This markedly differs from the completed film in which the character of Phillip Maddison does not appear at all and the narrative instead remains much closer to the natural world, echoing the spirit of Williamson’s original novel.
Comparing these early drafts with the finished screenplay highlights the editorial decisions that were rejected and the choices that ultimately reshaped the film.
After uncovering more information about the initial stages of the film’s creative development, I was impressed to learn more of the practical challenges of filmmaking in the 1970s. Production schedules and planning documents reveal the extraordinary level of organisation required before filming could even begin. In the early years of CGI, production instead relied on training animals for the film’s key characters. The archives document the careful coordination required to work with otters, hounds and other animals, including the logistical necessity of keeping various species apart for their own welfare during filming. These records provide a fascinating glimpse into the scale of planning that lay behind what audiences would eventually see on screen.
Alongside these practical records were newspaper cuttings, magazine articles and writings on otters and wildlife conservation. These materials demonstrate the care taken to ensure that the film remained faithful to the natural world at the heart of Tarka the Otter. Rather than simply telling a story about an otter, effort was made to understand the species and their environment accurately.
Working with this collection demonstrated the extent to which archives preserve far more than finished works. They preserve conversations, revisions, research, experiments and practical decisions that would otherwise be lost. As relationships between documents gradually emerge, it becomes possible to reconstruct not only the history of a film but also the creative process that shaped it. In an increasingly digital age, there is something especially powerful about working with these physical records. Their annotations, and used, material nature communicate a sense of imagination and artistic process that extends beyond the words themselves. Together, the documents reveal not simply what was created, but how creativity itself unfolded to translate Tarka the Otter and Williamson’s vision of North Devon to the screen.
