Moonlighting in the movies is easy. People exaggerate how “difficult” it is to get a job in the film industry, and they complain about “nepo babies,” sons of cast and crew and CEOs who’ve been indispensable to the movies for over a century. I knew a lot of those stars of the silent age and most of them were happy to see their kids join the family business (John Barrymore excluded). I wish more Hollywood natives would claim the movies, at least for a generation, because the language’s being lost. We know this. The films of the 1980s and 1990s look so much better now because today most movies are shit. We know this, too. I’m sorry if you work in the film industry and are offended, but it ‘snot my problem. You are the problem. Why is everything so underlit and colorless?
I’m not sure the “Youth of Today” could handle the conditions we worked under on movie sets in the 1980s. I remember working in Florida and Texas on the Neo-noirs Body Heat and D.O.A. Shot in 1980 and 1987, respectively, these films follow men destroyed by temptation and lust, something you don’t hear about much anymore. As leads, William Hurt and Dennis Quaid are morally questionable at best, and I can’t imagine they’d find much sympathy with audiences today. Well, maybe not Quaid—he got poisoned, everybody can get poisoned. Not everybody can fall into a fatal love affair with Kathleen Turner. But even in Body Heat, where Will Hurt (a friend—he’s missed) chooses to die, chooses his doom, and knows on some level what he’s getting into with Turner (not a friend), it’s really hot, and everyone hates being really hot. He eyes her up like a piece of well-tended meat, but his ice cream cone is dripping into his hand.
We know this. We know this feeling. This is what the movies used to give us: a shared reality, windows onto worlds we’ve always known. This is the only real form of community in a consumerist society, and we’re missing it today. If I sound like an old man, I am—though I won’t tell you my age. Nobody cared how old I was when I was acting as an extra in Florida during Body Heat, or when I was grabbing coffee for Quaid on the set of D.O.A. Lawrence Kasdan (a mensch) was on his best behavior making Body Heat, eager to prove himself as a director after writing the smash hit The Empire Strikes Back, which none of the Quibbits saw because a large portion of the script (the ice planet) was plagiarized from some bathroom graffiti that Bennington left at the Polo Lounge in 1978. In any case, Larry (a mensch, but never a friend—does he even know my name?) ran a tight, serious set that was never overbearing, but hardly a party, with basically zero chaos. A rarity in the film industry.
Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel were a different story. Five years after I worked with them on D.O.A., they made Super Mario Brothers with Bob Hoskins, John Leguizamo and Dennis Hopper. I heard familiar stories: grumpy directors, hot coffee poured on unsuspecting production assistants, screaming matches, and an unbelievable amount of cocaine use. I never saw any of it personally, I’m just going on hearsay, which in Hollywood is proper currency, not heresy (see, I could’ve become a comedian, too). I’m willing to tolerate a pretty high level of abuse if the craft’s there, and on D.O.A., Morton and Jankel delivered a solid update of the 1948 noir of the same name, and it remains an entertaining and well-made film. Some cast, too: besides Quaid, there’s Meg Ryan, Charlotte Rampling, and Daniel Stern. We love him. Do we love him? I’m not sure. I think he was in the news lately…
Okay, some objects were thrown on the set of D.O.A. But nobody complained, and that’s the way it should be. Who cares if your boss is screaming at you? You’re making a movie. You’re in a car. You’re getting coffee for famous people. Are you really going to look a gift horse in the mouth like that? Just enjoy your life and vibe with the rest. People called movies like Body Heat and D.O.A. schlocky in their time (at least that’s what I heard at the Polo Lounge), but now they look like Renaissance works. These were remakes of old movies that people knew. Okay, maybe Body Heat wasn’t a remake of any specific noir, but it was in the Chinatown groove. People knew what that meant 40 years ago. Garsh, even in the 2000s people had a strong connection to the idea of the movies and what that meant.
But I see a new wave coming: “micro budgets” (under a million dollars) given to “content creators” (YouTubers?). I don’t know what this Backrooms is, but I know it’s going to make a lot of money this weekend. It’s projected to earn back its budget 50 times over. That’s a moment, a mood, and a whole-ass vibe. I’m trying to get with what’s new and current with the youth of America, so I’ve just started frosting the tips of my feathers, and sanding my hackle (roostermaxxxing), but I think I might’ve gotten some decades mixed up. Monica said I looked like that crazy witch lady in Congress somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Okay, well, I didn’t need that blow to my ego today, but I put up with it, because I love her. I love you, too. But not as much as my wife Monica. She’s reading this right now. I know she is. The article isn’t over, honey, keep reading. Keep reading. Keep reading. Nope, still not over. Keep reading. Keep reading. Okay I’m almost done. Clams casino for dinner? This is epic. Keep reading. Keep reading okay I’m done now love you.
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