Work is paused on the movie for now. Yes, The Continuing Adventures of Cliff Booth is still called that, and no, it’s not a “TV movie” or a series, it was just produced under a television contract because of some obscure bit of Netflix bureaucracy. Not that My Sensei would mind being involved with a TV movie—he loves the form, talks about it all the time on his podcast with Roger and Gala Avary. The Longest Night was a big deal for him. “No one ever talks about it, maybe they haven’t made the connection—which, frankly, I can’t believe—that the scene in the second half of Kill Bill, where Budd buries The Bride alive, is straight out of The Longest Night… I mean, it IS The Longest Night. But no one talked about that. They didn’t even bring up The Vanishing. They thought that I got all of the ‘homages’ out of the way in the first half… they didn’t know that I’ve never even seen Lady Snowblood… I was thinking more of this TV series Sonny Chiba was on…”
And then I tuned him out. When My Sensei starts going on and on about film and television history, I zone out. I’m interested for about 20 minutes, maybe 25. Then I really start to lose steam. I’ve seen people crack under the pressure of a simple conversation with My Sensei—well, not so much conversations as one-sided lectures, which, as a student of all kinds of history, I’m always willing to participate in (or endure)—and very few can keep up with him, much less stay awake. This motherfucker will shoot from six in the morning ’til midnight, then gather up the gaffers and go watch exploitation movies until three in the morning. When does he sleep? “Every other day.” Has he always done this? “I keep my own hours.” Has he gotten any work done? “What do you mean? I’ve written and directed nine movies.” No, I mean, has he gotten any work done? “Oh, no. I mean, nothing unusual.” He reminds me that we’re in a cosmetic business, and that it’s not polite to bring up the indignities of the profession.
Maybe I should get my hackle highlighted…
Has My Sensei really gotten work done? I searched his name and the year “1998” on Google Images… okay… I’m seeing some graying at the temples… but his hairline isn’t more receded than it is today. Maybe he just got some maintenance work? Or maybe he’s born with it… maybe it’s Maybelline… I don’t want to think about My Sensei wearing a rug. Since we’ve wrapped, and I’m apparently not allowed in the editing room (“Covid era holdover restrictions,” they say, as I light a cigarette in the hall and cause all of the alarms and sprinklers to go off), there isn’t much to do or talk about around here for now. I’m mostly left to stew in my own jealousy and resentment, because I’m tired and don’t have My Sensei’s endless energy. I lowkey want to go home and make fun of Rooster and be mean to his wife. But I have to see this project through… everyone’s always betting against Benny when he’s down and out. Not this time. Put everything on a major comeback. I’m going to turn star rooster.
—Follow Bennington Quibbits on Twitter: @MonicaQuibbits