I'm Not Dead... Yet! (33 page)

We had absolutely no money to shoot the video… err, film, and I found myself wearing too many hats—even helping supply wardrobe and running to the Salvation Army to grab set-dressing.
Our friend Cliff Bemis, who was great in the film, shared an apartment with me. We had no money to put him up anywhere. I went from 165 to 130 pounds in four weeks—not a bad ‘look’ for the film, but not good for my heart.
I did my best to show how the character I was playing absolutely destroyed his life becoming a drug addict.

Acting and directing became bizarre in a scene where my character was making love to a beautiful drugged-out hooker to retaliate for his girlfriend’s ‘indiscretions.’ Pretty campy stuff—except that real drug addicts told me they couldn’t watch the film: it made them yearn to go back to the ‘dark side.’ Not exactly what I had in mind…

I staged this nude ‘revenge fu--’... err, ‘love-making’ scene on an ostentatious black lacquer slide in an apartment that looked like a kid’s playground from hell. The shot was set up so the camera makes a slow move in as my ‘thrusting’ gets more and more intense, then violent. As I acted the scene, my peripheral vision was on the camera—and I had to cue the dolly grip with my toes so he would know at what point in the thrusting he should start moving the camera forward. I also had to make the toe movement not look like a cue but like it was part of the scene. Now, here’s the dilemma: this is my first feature as a director. I want it to look better than it reads.

“Action!” The more I became… athletically involved in the scene, the more the room began to spin. I kept telling myself, ‘Don’t ruin this shot. This shot took three hours to set up, and we can’t afford to be behind schedule—so don’t mess up… the… shot…’

The next thing I knew, I had passed out on top of the naked blonde actress.

When I came to (we were still rolling because I was the only one to call ‘Action!’ and ‘Cut!’), I was nose to nipple with a strange woman’s breast. I stared at her breast as alarm bells went off in my head:
‘Oh my God! WHAT HAVE I DONE? THIS IS NOT KARLA’S BREAST! WHO DOES THIS NIPPLE BELONG TO? I’M NOTHING MORE THAN EVERY OTHER IDIOT WHO CHEATS ON HIS—WAIT—HUH?

Then, peripherally, just barely out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the camera had hit its mark for the ‘end position of the dolly.’ And in a flash I remembered:
I was making a movie
(not love to a stranger), and yelled, “Cut!” (Thank goodness. I really didn’t think I was an asshole like that. An asshole in other ways, maybe—but never to cheat or hurt Karla. Never.)

I turned to the camera operator, and my way of trying to tell if the shot worked and also tell if anyone caught that I passed out for a second was to ask, “Was that as good for you as it was for me?”

He smiled and said, “It was perfect—I’d swear you even passed out in the scene. Perfect. Man—how do you do that? It looked so real.”

“Well, that’s why I make the itty-bitty bucks.” (The technicians were probably making more than I was. This technology was new and these brainiacs weren’t cheap. They weren’t filmmakers, either.)

Another time I was standing in the pouring rain with Danny Aiello (and all his buddies who later were on
The Sopranos),
discussing how important it was to get this shot on the first take. In this gun battle, the actors all had explosive squibs hidden in their suits that would explode and expel blood, ruining their wardrobe and making it look like they were shot and killed in a ‘bad-film-appropriate’ way—and we only had one set of wardrobe. At that moment during my explanation, all of the squibs fired and all of us were surprised and goosed by the sound and the red gunky squibs exploding. We all wiggled in fast-motion as if we were really getting shot. When the ‘gunfire’ ended we all stared at one another, red Karo syrup dripping from our faces. We were flabbergasted, and sticky, head-to-toe. Time to problem-solve; no time to complain or even get angry.

“Okay, we need new jackets. I will personally pay anyone on the set full price if they lend me their jackets. Now!”

I got the jackets. Paid for seven or eight guys. We did the set up again, and the actors stayed—thanks to Danny Aiello, who told his pals, “Let’s do it for the kid.”

I was working (as a writer) on a script
called
Modern Love
in January 1988 when Father Jerome Vereb visited our home and asked if I would come to the University of South Carolina to accept an Honorary Degree. I told him I appreciated the gesture, but I didn’t believe in honorary degrees—I believed in degrees one earns.

When my mother found out I turned it down she tried not to cry.

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

“Well, Robby, nobody from our family has ever graduated college.”

“But Ma, I’m not graduating college, I’m flying 3,000 miles to pick up a piece of paper that I don’t deserve. Even though it’s in South Carolina, it’s just small time Hollywood b.s.”

“It’s not b.s. They want you. They feel you deserve this honor.”

“Ma, I don’t deserve anything.” I could see that she really was starting to cry. “Okay—Okay. No problem. I’ll go.”

When I finally said ‘Yes’ on the phone to the very persuasive President, James B. Holderman, he asked me what I’d like my degree in—and I told him ‘Brain Surgery.’

The University of South Carolina was a remarkable place at that time. The President was a great fundraiser and a forward-thinker who attracted such notables as President Reagan, Kurt Waldheim, Madame Sadat, Helen Hayes, and even Pope John Paul II. Dr. Holderman turned the university from a party school in 1977 to the number one International Business graduate school in the nation—topping even the Ivy League Schools. He was the first non-southerner chosen for the position. Dr. Holderman was considered the most influential and powerful man in the state because he employed more people than any other public figure in South Carolina, including the Governor.

Dr. Holderman wanted me to teach at ‘The Real USC,’ as they liked to say (which predated that California school by about 80 years). He offered me an unlimited Artist in Residence professorship with M.F.A. students in the Theatre and Communications/Film departments beginning in the fall of 1988. It was tempting. And when I asked about creating a class that would incorporate students from both majors (something which had never been done before), he was very enthusiastic.

Dr. Holderman sent us on a tour of the campus, which was breathtaking. We were escorted to the flagship of the university, the 80,000-seat Williams-Brice Stadium where the Gamecocks played. Just like any kid, I wanted to run out onto the empty field for a touchdown, but was warned about the greenskeeper by our guide, “If ya did, he’d probably shoot ya.”

At the end of our tour, I asked to see the film facilities.

“Sure thang.” A door opened to a plush red-carpeted, gorgeously outfitted screening room. “Wow,” I said. “This is perfect.”

“Perfect? Nah,” he said, then opened another door; “If you want to see perfect, take a look at the screening room fer the
de-
fense.”

“So, can the film department use all of the film equipment?” I asked.

“Only if ya wanna git shot.”

I was getting a college education after all.

I had never taught full-time,
and my script
Modern Love
was garnering interest in L.A., so Karla and I needed to discuss the pros and cons of such a big move. On campus there was an exciting, open dialogue about world views. But it was the South, and 100 yards off the campus grounds, you might find yourself listening to a discussion about why we lost the war—the
Civil
War. At that time they flew the Rebel flag over the State Capitol, which we Yankees found to be humiliating to of our friends of color. I wanted to change that, so I wrote a script about it entitled “Across the Tracks.” I received good readers’ reports, but no one wants to make a film that alienates the entire South.

We decided to ‘go for it’ and moved our family to Columbia, South Carolina to begin a new adventure. For me, it was like the entire world had been lifted from my shoulders. I re-wrote
Modern Love
and set it in beautiful South Carolina.
I thought, “Why not make a film as a part of my class? It would be a terrific experience for my students to
work
(not just passively learn, but work and get paid) on a feature film, apprenticing professionals from L.A. and New York in every department, absorbing knowledge about the film industry the way I learned: by
doing
.”

I received financing in a way that I’m pretty sure has never been duplicated. I went to SVS, a satellite arm of Sony, and said, “We need one million dollars and I need to know by November first because I have be in preproduction by the beginning of second semester.”

They loved the script, and we got a green light immediately.

I had written the lead for Karla, and a role introducing our 5-year-old daughter Lyric. I thought it would be terrific to have Burt Reynolds in our film. When I called, Burt not only said ‘Yes‘—at his expense (he lost money—and did this for me), he arrived on set with his own trailer and support people.

Modern Love
was a small film, but perfect for the class I was teaching—an opportunity of a lifetime for my Masters students at a university where the football team had state-of-the-art film equipment, but the film department had cameras more suitable for shooting home movies in the 70s. Now we were making a feature film with Panavision lenses.

We set up a student production office within the real production office. Twelve of my students were cast in the film and were given the opportunity to join the Screen Actors Guild. One student became a Directors Guild of America trainee. My USC colleague, Professor Marsha Moore (who I later worked with at NYU), and Lilly Boruszkowski shot second unit for the ‘kissing montage’ at locations all over the state. Just the four of us got into a van and changed wardrobe and drove to beautiful locations for what I proudly call ‘The longest kissing montage in film history.’ (It was fun, too. I once had to fix the camera with gaffers tape, but the shot was gorgeous.)

I can never thank my hard-working crew, my friends and co-stars enough for what they did for our little film. Burt Reynolds, Rue McClanahan, Louise Lasser, Frankie Valli, our best friend Cliff Bemis, and my dear co-conspirator from
Pirates
, Kaye Ballard, who all helped me by giving their heart and talents to
Modern Love
... for scale.