Heaven and Mel (Kindle Single) (9 page)

He says, "In 'Braveheart' I loved choreographing the fights on the battlefields. I loved figuring out new violent ways of stabbing people."

But he doesn't know anything about characterization or plotting. He knows nothing about actually creating and keeping a character alive or determining his motivation. He knows this work has to be done. He knows a movie can't succeed without it, but he doesn't know how to do it.

That's fine with me. I've learned (sometimes painfully) through more than thirty years of screenwriting that the film is always better off if the director doesn't try to write. But part of the problem here is that Mel actually received co-writing credit for "The Passion," "Apocalypto," and now for "How I Spent My Summer Vacation." I know that he received this credit by making agreements with his so-called "co-writers," but the very fact that he received the credit, I feel, has made him believe that he
is
a writer.

There is, too, the Prefiguration Issue that hangs over our discussions. I find myself having to say more than once that this movie is about Judah Maccabee, not Jesus Christ.

But one day when Mel is playing and laughing with Luci on the living room floor, he suddenly turns to me and says, "What I really want to do with this movie is to convert the Jews to Christianity."

I ask him what
that
means, but he says nothing. He goes back to rolling around on the floor and laughing with Luci.

I'm not laughing.

* * * *

I SEND BJORN PORK AN EMAIL
of a description of Judah Maccabee that I discover in one of the books that I'm reading.

"Judah died the martyr and the champion of his country. Among those lofty spirits who have nobly resisted the most wanton oppression, few have surpassed Judah Maccabee. None ever fell valorously in a better cause. He loved the Word of God, the Sabbath, the Temple, the Altar, the City of the Great King, and the service of Jehovah. None loved the people more, none governed them with greater wisdom, none led them to more splendid victories. He was the last great human leader, like Joshua, and deliverer, like David."

Bjorn Pork sends no reply. I wonder if it's because I made no mention of the prefiguration of Jesus.

* * * *

MEL IS VERY BIG ON ENZYMES
. He eats a cheeseburger for lunch and doesn't feel very good afterwards. There's an enzyme he takes for stomach upset. He tears around the house looking for his enzymes and realizes that he's run out.

He calls Nick Guerra, his treasured assistant, in the office in Santa Monica. Nick dispatches
his
assistant to buy a bottle of enzymes at a health food store and deliver it immediately to Mel in Malibu.

* * * *

MAURA COMES OVER
while Mel and I are talking about the script. I think Maura is smart and read. She says that in her opinion, Judah Maccabee is the second-most-important person in the Bible… right after Jesus Christ.

I know how devout Maura is — believing just as much as Mel in a Catholic faith that no longer exists (except, maybe in their imaginations), so I'm not surprised by what she has said.

I am, however, stunned by what she says next. It comes in the form of a question to Mel: "Does he (me) know about the human sacrifices?"

They look at me and then they look at each other.

I say, "What human sacrifices?" They're still looking at each other. They seem hesitant to answer my question.

"It's in the Torah," Mel finally says.

I say, "What's in the Torah?"

"Human sacrifices," Mel says cryptically.

"What human sacrifices?" I ask again.

"The Jews," Mel says, "they used human sacrifices."

"That's bullshit," I say.

"Christian human sacrifices," Maura says.

"That's complete and absolute bullshit," I say.

"Babies and infants. Christian babies and infants," Mel says.

I laugh and say, "You're out of your fucking mind, guys!"

Mel says calmly, "Look it up."

I say, "You're confusing the Torah with 'The Protocols of the Elders of Zion.' That's probably the most scurrilous and bullshit anti-Semitic screed ever written."

"It's in the Torah. Look it up."

I say, "I will."

Maura says, "You'll find it. It's in there."

Mel is still looking at me, his eyes flinty and level. I feel myself looking at him the same way. He's pissed and so am I.

Maura breaks the tension. "Well, I'm going to go outside and find us some lemons so we can have lemonade."

I don't have to look it up, but I do, maybe as a favor to him. There is nothing, of course, about sacrificing babies or infants in the Torah. That's all crazy and rancid anti-Semitic bullshit.

* * * *

MEL IS GOING OUT
to a Halloween party in Beverly Hills with a new friend of his named Brad.

Mel has hired some of the make-up people from his films to "do them."

The make-up session lasts several hours, and when it ends, Mel looks like the perfect werewolf.

* * * *

LUCI COMES OVER HOLDING JOE THE OWL
.

Mel says, "Show Joe the Owl Joe the Owl, Luci."

The little girl shows us her stuffed owl.

Naomi and I are ready for her. We have bought her a similar stuffed dolphin. Mel names it "Nayo" Luci's nickname for Naomi.

At Luci's second birthday party, we meet Mel's grandchildren. Mel makes a cake and we all sing Happy Birthday to Luci.

Luci holds Nayo's hand and sits next to her. Maybe it's because we only have boys or maybe it's because Luci seems to dance in the eye of a storm, but we really love this little girl.

* * * *

HE'S HAVING A COUGHING FIT
that finally stops. He's not pretending to be the Coughing Strangler now. The ashtray in front of him is half full.

Mel says to me, "You look good. I don't think I'm aging well. I think that fucking cunt stole my looks."

I try to make a joke out of it. "None of us are getting any younger. Have you seen Keith (Richards) lately?"

But Mel doesn't want to joke about it.

"I mean it — look at your hair. It looks good. I had to have a transplant — I had to have a balloon inserted in the back to stretch my scalp.

I say, "Your hair look fine."

"No," he says. "Listen! I'm going to do this movie called 'Berserker.' I've always loved Viking movies. Keep growing your hair. You'd be a great Viking king. Grow it real long."

I check him out. Are you kidding me? Me? A Hungarian mongrel as a Viking king? But I see he's serious.

"Berserker"? What will this be? A self portrait?

"I used to have real thick, long hair too," Mel says. "Not any more." He looks at me — I can tell he's looking at my hair — and he starts to cough again. He lights another cigarette and, in the telltale sign of the chronic chain smoker, his cough stops.

He's dressed up to go out one night and Naomi says to him, "You look nice."

Mel Gibson looks down shyly and says to my wife, "I try."

* * * *

HE SHOWS US HIS LATEST MOVIE
, still unreleased. Mel stars in it and it's directed by a guy who was an assistant on "Apocalypto."

I'm not knocked out by the movie, but I absolutely hate its title: "How I Spent My Summer Vacation." The title fits the film neither tonally nor thematically. I tell Mel that.

"You got a better one?" he challenges.

I say, "Yeah, call it 'The Gringo.'" Mel thinks about it and says, "I don't like that at all." He gives me that flinty and even look.

A month later, he tells me that he has changed the title to "Get the Gringo." He says, "I still don't like the title." And he never thanks me.

But it's okay. The man's going to make me a Viking king in… "Berserker"!

* * * *

NAOMI, MEL, AND I ARE IN THE JOHN VARVATOS
boutique in Cross Creek. Mel is trying on suit coats.

There's an attractive young woman working in the store. Mel turns to her and says, "I think your spine's crooked."

She says, "What?"

He says, "Here, let me see."

He stands behind her. He moves her hair aside. He looks at her spine.

"Yeah, it's crooked," he says.

He starts rubbing her neck and shoulders.

Naomi peeks up at me and rolls her eyes. I know she's thinking the same thing I am: 'We've seen this before. It's the nerdy guy in high school… or the guy in the bar… who wants to touch you. So he does the old back massage bit.'

He says to her, "You feel that? It's crooked!"

We look away. We feel embarrassed for him.

* * * *

HE SHOWS ME A BOOK
he has written for his eleven-year-old son, Tommy.

He has even hired an illustrator to do the artwork.

It is a lovely children's adventure story written in verse. The illustrations are beautiful.

The tone of the book is charming and romantic. Mel says he gave it to the book agents at William Morris, but they never did anything with it.

I know why: Here's a charming and romantic children's book written by the guy who screams "I deserve to be blown!" and who seems obsessed with blow jobs and anal issues, straight or gay.

* * * *

WE GO TO A LITTLE SUSHI RESTAURANT
in Cross Creek with Mel for dinner. They recognize him immediately and usher us to a back booth.

The waitress, young and cute, comes over to take our order. She almost lies down on the table to wait on Mel. He orders: "No sushi, no sashimi. Chicken — grilled."

As she walks away, he remembers something else he wants. He says, "Miss! Miss!"

She comes back. He smiles and says, "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

She smiles coyly and says, "It's Tiffany."

"Under his breath he says, "Of course it is."

Then he says he'd like to order something else.

She smiles, looks him in the eye, and says, "You can have anything you want."

* * * *

HE SAYS TO ME
, "I've tried therapy and it doesn't work."

He says to Naomi, "I have so much rage and no one can tell me where it comes from."

Naomi says, "Did your dad get that angry?"

Mel says, "No. Hutton could work up some steam, but nothing like me."

Naomi says, "Did your brothers?"

Mel grins and says,
Oh, yeah
."

* * * *

BACK HOME, I'M HAVING PROBLEMS
blocking out my script. It's driving me nuts. Most importantly, I have to bubble down a thirty-year story to two hours of screen time.

I say a lot of prayers. I ask my pastor, Father Dan, to say some prayers
for
me. He is a good and smart man of faith. His prayers, I figure, have more clout than mine.

But I overestimate his providential pull. Things don't get better, they get worse.

Even as I struggle with the script, losing sleep, grouchy with Naomi and the boys, I hurt my back.

I've got a lot of sciatic pain, pain that shoots down my left leg and feels like my leg is in a vise. I'm popping Aleve like candy.

I have to undergo MRIs of the spine, the lower spine, and the hip. The damn MRI machine makes its pounding, deafening noise, while I'm in there thinking about a love interest for Judah Maccabee.

Then I wake up one morning and my left leg, the same leg that has hurt so much, is more than a little numb.

My doctors tell me to go to the hospital immediately. They're concerned that I may have had a stroke, but they're not at all sure.

They take more MRIs of the brain, of the spine, and both hips. I'm back in the MRI machine listening to all the bangs and clanks and I
still
haven't figured out Judah Maccabee's romantic interest.

They finally tell me that I didn't have a stroke after all, just the same old herniated disc that's been causing me problems for the past thirty years.

When he sees me hobbling around with a cane, Mel says the cure for my sciatica is to hit my leg with my fist as hard as I can.

I wind up and smash my leg. It hurts so badly I think I'm going to pass out. Mel graciously offers to hit the leg for me as hard as
he
can.

I decline his generous and loving offer.

* * * *

I REMEMBER THAT MY SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD SON
, Joe, a talented painter, has done a brilliant portrait of Mephistopheles.

I go up to Joe's room and stare at the painting. Mephistopheles looks impressive, dignified, cool.

"Enough!" I say to the Devil. "Fuck you!"

The next day, with Joe's permission, I burn Mephistopheles in our fireplace.

I begin wearing another medal: St. Michael the Archangel. He slew Lucifer. Not the family serpent that all of us love… but the real Serpent.

Burning Mephistopheles doesn't do any more good than hitting my leg did. It still hurts.

* * * *

SUDDENLY, THINGS LOOK BETTER
for Mel on his various personal fronts. The possible assault charge has been reduced to a misdemeanor. All he owes Oksana is $750,000, spread out over years. (It seems like peanuts after she allegedly turned down a $16 million offer). And Mel and Oksana will share joint custody.

The whole world views all of this as a triumph for Mel, but
he
doesn't. He was hoping to get sole custody of Luci. But Oksana is, after all, Luci's mother, and most people feel that a child's mother is entitled to custody too.

Mel stews, grumbles, and shares his anger with me.

"That fucking cunt," he says, "She's going to do everything she can to turn Luci against me."

* * * *

MEL'S VARIOUS COURT VICTORIES
have taken much of the pressure off of him as far as Hollywood is concerned.

There is another development that has restored some of his popularity. Charlie Sheen has replaced him as The Biggest Nut Case in America. Charlie Sheen has declared himself to be a "Warlock" who drinks tiger's blood and has revealed his demons publicly in a series of video and concert appearances. The blinding light of the media has moved from Mel to Charlie.

It is this moment which Mel picks… after the court triumphs and after Charlie Sheen has become a Warlock who drinks tiger's blood…
it is this moment which Mel picks
… to schedule a meeting with Warner Brothers.