Forward:

Other than the film itself, this is the only record of the making of the movie "Evil Dead," formerly known as "Book of the Dead." It has taken me eighteen years to finally type this. I have left all of the wording, grammar, and punctuation exactly as they were when it was written by hand in spiral notebooks at the time. I have, however, corrected the spelling errors.

Sunday, November 11, 1979 --

Ah, Tennessee . . .

We of the cast and crew of "Book of the Dead" are presently residing in an extremely large house (6 bedrooms, 3 full baths) somewhere outside Morristown, which is about an hour outside Knoxville.

Getting here wasn't particularly difficult, other than the instructions we received were completely mismarked in relation to compass direction. The location at this writing is a wonderful exterior (I've only seen stills), however the interior is unacceptable to those in the know. We may still be shooting in Marshall, Michigan.

We all moved into our rooms (although I haven't spotted Rich and Theresa yet) and I got a bed (most everyone else is on army cots or the floor).

Sam spoke for our first production meeting and made a good show; he was adroit, yet funny (at the expense of Gary Holt, our local location manager). He used a camp counselor attitude to the whole thing, seemingly covered all the points and that was that.

Holt played us a song he had written and recorded that was very strange. It was about 10 minutes long with a guy talking about the horrors of a Vietnam vet. It was too weird.

Later . . .

I don't have any idea as to what time it is. I have gotten twice as much sleep as anyone here. I awoke today to dinner being made (spaghetti that was okay), then dope smoking and beer drinking wiped me out in a few hours and I was back to sleep. When I awoke this last time I found Sam and Tom still up working on the actual Book of the Dead (Sam was having a rubber cast of his palm made to use as one of the pages of "human skin").

So now everyone is asleep and I'm up. Sam said it was about 6:30 A.M., then said it was 1:30 A.M., then came back with 6:45 A.M. and since there isn't a clock around I don't know.

It's a real strange grouping together of people. I'll wait to see how everyone functions as a team.

Nevertheless, we're all here, all the equipment is here, props galore and we do have a car exterior anyway so I guess we're making movies.

Tuesday, Nov. 13th, 1979 --

We now have a location, which is about a mile from here, that is almost totally demolished and needs to be rebuilt. This is expected to take eight days, during which time we shall be filming driving scenes.

I drove to Knoxville airport to pick up the film but it hadn't arrived yet. It's supposed to be in later tonight.

I don't feel like part of this happy family.

I don't feel like writing right now.

Later . . .

It's about 4:30 A.M. and I can't seem to get past my old sleeping habits. I went to sleep at 9:00 P.M. and woke up at 3:00. This gives me quite a few hours to myself to read and write (I finished "Commander 1" a few minutes ago). Also, I haven't been having a terrific time becoming one of the "family," so I just sleep it out.

Bruce picked up the film so I suspect we could shoot tomorrow -- that would be nice. And although "they" are trying to be democratic about who works where, I simply do not want to be doing clean-up and carpentry on the cabin when I could be assisting the shoot. I will undoubtedly end up on clean-up anyway.

Of the cast and crew, here's how I see it: Theresa is an air-head but well-meaning and is trying to be motherly, Betsy just is, Rich is okay, Don is okay but a little wacky on destroying things, Ellen is distant and seems troubled (she seems to have had some difficulty with her face mold tonight), Tim (camera) seems to know what he's doing, John (sound) is a good guy, Goody is Goody (loud & goofy), Dart (Steve Frankell) arrived today and he's a good guy, Tapert seems to be enjoying his power-position, but hasn't become annoying, Bruce is either ALL BUSINESS or ALL SHTICKS and Sam, though a bit harried, is just his plain old self and everyone seems to adore him. As for me, I'm the recluse.

Last evening, as I was trying to get the dishwasher going, Theresa said to me, "You know, you're not as bad as they made you out to be." I asked her what this meant and she wouldn't reply.

I forgot Tom Sullivan -- he does his job and enjoys himself, but otherwise is barely apparent.

Thursday, Nov. 15th, 1979 --

So, yesterday was our first day of filming. We were out at this fairly large, creaky old bridge filming the car driving across and boards dropping out from beneath.

My job was slating and setting up the fake beams beneath the bridge (which was done by threading fishline through the beam, then running the line across the bridge at a height so that when the car drove past it would break the line. At the same time Rob and I were also tossing real logs off).

Things went quite well, if slow. My first job of the day was attracting the attention of some bulls that were attacking Tim and Sam as they shot the long shot from a field across the street. I just sang some songs and the whole herd moved to the other end of the field.

Later . . .

Today's shooting was chock full of exciting things. The very first event of the day after we left in three vehicles for the location is that the van got lost and we spent a half hour trying to locate it.

Our location at Clinch Mt. was very panoramic and we did some follow shots of the subject car that should look terrific. We then got to this dirt road beneath a highway overpass and within the first hour of setting up Sam drove his car into a ditch and we had to get a tow truck to get it out.

About two hours later Rob and I set out to find Don Campbell, who had gone out to scout a location, and found him standing high atop a wooded cliff. We called to him, then he disappeared only to reappear moments later sliding off the cliff. Don made one last try at grabbing a tree, missed and went sailing down about twenty feet.

I dashed up the hill to where he had landed and called to him, but he didn't respond. I lost my footing and tumbled back. On the next try I clawed my way up and found Don sitting in a daze. I asked if he thought anything was broken and it wasn't.

We've now taken him to the hospital for some tests.

Friday, Nov. 16th, 1979 --

Today's shoot was rather boring. All of the shots were of sequences taking place in the car. Rob was busy today so I kept the log. That entailed waiting for the car to get back, then coercing the information out of Sam and Tim. It wasn't particularly taxing.

Things are running well. The cast does what they're told, the only bitching coming from Theresa, but no one ever listens. Sam is funny and has been giving some first-rate direction, Bruce is funny and keeps Ellen particularly always laughing, Rob is dealing with the problems and not giving anyone grief, while always wanting the best for the production, Dart and Goody are digging fixing up the house, Don is a psycho, and I do what needs to be done -- as does Tim and John.

I've been going to sleep directly after dinner and finding that I'm just getting enough sleep. I'm in bed now.

Sunday, Nov. 18th, 1979 --

I just returned from watching Tim and Rob do some "evil entity P.O.V.s" through the woods by means of attaching the camera to a five-foot 2x4, the camera at one end with Tim holding it, Rob holding the other end for stability. Theoretically it's not a bad idea, although in practice Rob kept smashing into trees.

Yesterday I spent the day working on the cabin: peeling old wallpaper, plastering, painting, etc. The place may look okay depending on how it's dressed-up.

Last night Gary Holt took us to a performance of "The Good Doctor" at a local theater that was pretty awful. The setting of the play is supposed to be Russia but seemingly no one could handle the accent, so it ranged from Liverpudlian to Ohio to southern USA/Russian. Before the show began an ugly, overweight girl got up and made some announcements: no smoking, try-outs for "The Twelfth Night," thanking people and saying that the bathroom was in the dressing room and if anyone used it please don't flush because it would ruin the mood of the play.

Anyway, I could barely keep my eyes open.

Later . . .

I'm finding it increasingly more and more difficult dealing with the women on this production. I feel intentionally alienated and even to the point that I am an object of ridicule. As usual I figured this was exclusively my problem, but yesterday Goody said exactly the same thing.

Last night Tim and I talked for about an hour about a script idea of his that I found exciting and rather unique. I'll bring it up to him again later.

I lapse back and forth between simply not caring what my function on this film is to despising my lowly position. To Sam, Bruce, Rob, Tim and Tom this is a dream-come-true, for the cast it's a chance at fame, for Don, Goody and I it's merely something to do. I really don't mind the chores I've been doing, but they're menial and uninteresting and the idea that five weeks of this remains is a tad unsettling.

Three ounces of pot has been lost (or so I've been told) so staying stoned is not even a possibility anymore.

Five more weeks -- Lord God this is going to be trying.

Tuesday, Nov. 20th, 1979 --

I'm not exactly sure it's either Tuesday or the 20th, but it doesn't really matter.

Today was spent at The Old Bridge location about 45 miles from here. Scenes of styrofoam "It's Murder" boards falling onto the camera below and the car wheel dropping through the planking were shot and both looked terrific. And then the welder and the wrecker showed up to tear the metal structure of the bridge apart and make it look like a clawing hand. It's almost finished (which took all day and night) and looks amazing.

Upon arriving at the bridge in Bruce's car, Sam realized he had the keys to his Olds with him, so I had to drive 45 miles back home, then back again.

Walking on the rotting planks totally freaked me out. It was something like a 35 foot drop into fast-moving water, however Dart bounded around on the beams like a ballerina.

During tonight's construction, the winch was drawn around the left side of the bridge to bend the little finger to the left. Unbeknownst to anyone the cable was also around a large tree-branch that snapped when tension was applied to the cable and landed on Sam. The limb must have been 50 lbs., but didn't knock him over. He merely staggered back and sat on the wrecker. Everyone thought he was okay, however I went over to him and found him pale, his eyes completely bloodshot, his lips white and crusty and a small amount of blood dripping from his left nostril. I offered my assistance and he shook slightly declining. About ten minutes later he was functional but seemed groggy and passed out on the way home.

The footage comes back tomorrow.

It's 1:15 A.M. and I've been up since 4:30 A.M. and I have to be up at 7:00 A.M.

Wednesday, Nov. 21st, 1979 --

So far today has been a fiasco -- not for me actually, but . . .

I drove Rob around today as he checked on, and had done, all that needed doing for tonight's shooting of the bridge/claw scene.

We went out to the bridge and found that the end knuckle of the ring-finger had been amputated at Dart's decree. It doesn't ruin the claw effect, but it is a definite detraction.

The electrician arrived drunk and in the midst of consuming a beer to rig the cable from the 5000 watt light to the generator and said he couldn't do it today. I listened to him mumble 75% incoherently, then left assured of his complete and total stupidity.

Goody drove to Atlanta, GA. to pick up the new film from Kodak and his truck broke down, and although I'm not certain, it seems quite serious. His truck was the only vehicle equipped with a trailer hitch to pull the generator, so now they're considering rending a U-haul van to put the generator in.

A moment ago Bruce and I heard a crash, went into the garage and found that Sam had just broken a 5000 watt bulb which cost $75.00.

So, we don't have a truck, the use of the 5K, new film, several knuckles on the bridge fingers or Goody.

We leave for the bridge very soon.

Friday, Nov. 23rd, 1979 --

Yesterday was probably the nicest Thanksgiving I've ever had. After shooting the knarled-hand/Bridge scene until 6:30 A.M., with two generators, a thirty-six foot crane, three fog machines and 4000 watts of light, we got up at 11:00 A.M. to go to Gary Holt's Mother-in-law's house for the Thanksgiving meal.

It was sunny and warm, the colors wonderfully vibrant, the setting rural and rustic. The meal was extravagant, the people folksy and hospitable, we rode around on Gary's son's go-cart, we played football, played with the two Dobermans, three tiny kitties, and two Pekinese dogs, watched Detroit vs. Chicago on TV, showed "Within the Woods," actually helped a neighboring farmer herd some cattle that had wandered astray, then came home and watched the rushes -- some of which are great, the rest good, then I went to sleep and awoke today at 6:00 A.M. and am presently defecating my Thanksgiving meal.

Saturday, Nov. 24th, 1979 --

Once again we are about to leave for the dirt road location at Clinch Mt. Yesterday we filmed the scene with the subject car swerving in and almost hitting a logging truck and I filmed a couple of shots. It never looked as good as it should have.

Dissension among the cast and crew seems to be building. Some of the gripes are: Sam never shoots a master-shot of anything, therefore the cast never gets to play out a whole scene, he'll spend hours filming an insert, then not have time for three other shots, he spends very little time telling the actors what he wants, he'll do a few run-throughs, but mainly for the camera's sake, not the actors, he films everything from every angle, except the really important things like the bridge scene (which bugs the shit out of Tom). Supposedly we are three days behind, but I'm not sure whether to believe it or not since Campbell, Tapert, Raimi seem to think it necessary to withhold or lie about certain things. For instance, Rob told me the bridge scene cost $2300.00, whereas Bruce said $1200.00 -- that's a big discrepancy.

My neck has hurt for four days, and yet, even with all this I'm still enjoying myself.

My tape recorder keeps getting taken out to the cabin, left overnight in the cold, which kills the batteries, then I track it down (since no one returns it) and if I want to use it I have to buy new batteries which runs me $5.00.

This production is depressing me again. It rained last night so we can't go to the dirt road and alas it's just sitting around.

I guess that it must be a reflection of my comportment, but I do not like the way I'm treated by several people here. Betsy gives me upward of four dirty looks and snide comments a day, always to statements of mine not directed toward her. Theresa simply doesn't deal with me at all and Sam (this is the major one) appears to not only not want my suggestions on open questions, but is more than a shade reticent to let me do anything that takes any amount of thought or creative input. When he decided to go with multiple cameras yesterday, he immediately asked John to run camera #2, then began wondering aloud who had the ability to run camera #3 and only after I asked and he gave it some thought would he let me run it. Today he was thinking of a method for a fake shot, opened it up to suggestions from Dart, didn't like what he heard then just left it to Dart.

This sounds like paranoid ravings, and maybe it is, but I'm still mildly bugged.

I talked for a long time with Tom Sullivan last night and rather enjoyed myself. Mainly we talked movies and I told him the story of "Bloodbath" [which ultimately became "Thou Shalt Not Kill . . . Except"] and he liked it, then he told me this totally bizarre idea of his about other dimensions, ghosts, "actual demons," "actual sea-serpents," that just went on forever.

So far, if I did a film, of these folks I wouldn't mind using John Mason in some capacity, Tim Philo as camera operator, both Goody and Dart as carpenters and P.A.s and possibly Tapert as producer -- but, that's just jerk-off thoughts.

Later . . .

Speaking of paranoid ravings, this production is making me paranoid. I've got this odd, unfounded fear I'm going to get fired -- I'm assuredly replaceable, as a matter of fact I'm totally expendable, I have no basis for this fear, yet it persists.

These guys are freaking out with all this money, they can't stop finding ways to spend it. Now they're having Dart build a slanted, twenty-foot ramp running from the edge of the porch out in front of the door to get another crane effect. It's ridiculous.

Why am I in this absurd position? The idea of working on a movie is great, but the grief just isn't worth it. To be on a production with good friends and intentionally and continually placed in a lower position is maddeningly insulting. I really want to tell them to fuck off, but it won't accomplish anything. I've tried to keep a good attitude throughout but it's difficult -- I have ideas that I have to force on people just to get them to listen, not even accept them.

And, I think I'm sick, too.

Fuck!

And yet a little while later . . .

It appears as though this production is running into some trouble. The high brass is in a special conference this very moment discussing it; how to keep going with exteriors while it's raining, or to go interior with a cabin that is as yet unfinished and unfurnished.

At this point, this is what I would do: stop shooting for a couple of days, get everyone out to the cabin, rehearse every move, every lighting set-up, finish fixing the place, dress it, wait for it to stop raining, then keep shooting (the rain is supposed to end on Thursday) but now do the long tracking takes that comprise so much of the footage, then get the inserts and go home.

Tom asked if I suggested this to them and I hadn't, nor will I. I've made as many suggestions as I'm going to.

This meeting is taking place in the room adjoining mine so I can't go to my room.

The question is: why is all of this bothering me so much? It's not my film, why should I care? I'm backassed on both points. I want to care, but I don't really, and it's not my film, yet I wish it were -- at least in some part -- then someone might take heed of my words.

But why do I want them to take my word? Isn't their's enough?

No. It's not.

We are now four days behind and there is a good chance tomorrow will make five. Sam does not have a firm control of the situation at all.

Of course I never thought he did, but his movies always turned out well. That was Super-8 though, this is 16mm and a lot of money. There are a million variables in this business. Someone once said that being a good director mainly consisted of answering better than 50% of the questions right. This has always made sense to me but I've never seen it so intensely illustrated. Everyone bombards Sam with questions continually and I'm not sure if his average is better than 50% at this point. We are fourteen days into a forty-three day shoot -- one-third of the way in -- "Book of the Dead" is theoretically one-ninth shot (if it was ever going to run ninety minutes). The big answer now is "once we get to the cabin things will really move." As far as I can see it's not too much different from shooting in the car, and that took forever. Sam doesn't really know what he wants. I'm convinced.

I saw part #2 of "Salem's Lot" on TV and it was drek. "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" was a fluke. Tobe Hooper is bad -- not even mediocre -- bad.

Sunday, Nov.25th, 1979 --

Today I worked out at the cabin painting. Don and I painted the trim around the doors and windows battleship grey (as instructed by the Almighty One). When this was accomplished Sam decided he wanted all the trim brown, so the rest of the day was spent re-painting.

Just previous to Sam's original decision to paint it grey, I suggested it all be painted brown and was ignored. I'm getting to be an extreme I-told-you-so.

Today's shooting consisted of a few fake driving shots in the afternoon. The morning was spent getting the subject car out of the ditch Sam drove it into while attempting a stunt that had been filmed possibly twenty-five times previously.

This now puts us six days behind.

After work on the cabin, myself, Dart, Don, Rob and Sam piled into the rental truck and attempted to drive home, however yesterday's and today's rain has almost made the long driveway to the cabin impassable. Four of us had to push to get the truck up to the road.

In a few minutes I leave for the Knoxville airport to drop off the film. This is the second time we've sent out our film on Sunday, the day when the only freight service open is Delta which happens to be the most expensive.

Monday, Nov. 26th, 1979 --

It's about 10:30 A.M. and Rich and Tim just left to get a couple of second-unit driving shots. Later today, and supposedly all night, we'll be in the cabin.

Last night, while I drove to the airport, everyone else was out at the cabin working. Scuttlebutt has it that the middle bedroom is painted yellow and the back white. Yellow? For a horror movie?

The furniture is to be purchased today, interior shooting tonight.

The Arriflex-S busted and now Bruce is calling equipment rental places in Atlanta to get another. Ivan Raimi [Sam's older brother] was going to bring one down, but he doesn't want to make the drive. The footage of the car and truck stunt didn't run through the Arri-S, however it was covered by the BL and the Bolex, nevertheless, there are a few more shots lost.

Tuesday, Nov. 27th, 1979 --

We did shoot all last night at the cabin and got some real nice shots. The front room was absolutely filled with lights, about 7000 watts inside and 3500 outside, and we did a 90 degree dolly from the porch to in front of them and an upward ramped pull back/zoom back that should be interesting.

There are more fakery fog shots tonight and I don't know what else. I'm rather bored of this whole deal and having no one to talk to.

I figured going in that if nothing else I could always talk to Bruce, however that is not the case. Bruce is either all business (which I'm not part of) or shticking for everyone, which I find rather tedious.

At first I tried to sit in on the business end of this thing, but found that I was neither a part, nor wanted. I have ceased this practice.

Early the next morning . . .

Shooting ended about an hour ago, at 7:00 A.M., and we got six shots in total: a straight-on shot of the car (approaching the bridge) tilted to about 4:00, the camera tilted to 4:00 and Bruce and Ellen getting out at a normal angle. [A storyboard is drawn]. I like it. 

Thursday, Nov. 29th, 1979 --

Things have gone topsy-turvy. We all changed over to a night schedule that would permit filming from when it got dark at about 6:30 P.M. to dawn, however within two days things have gotten pushed to the point of beginning to film last night at 2:00 A.M., then going until noon. It's 1:00 A.M. now and we have yet to begin, nor does it appear as though we will for another hour or two.

Winter has come, the muddy driveway to the cabin has frozen allowing access to it, and the cabin itself is now always astoundingly cold inside, even with a big fire and two space heaters. Last night, on the seventeenth take of an exterior dolly shot the sync cable froze and we were forced to go in and let it thaw.

Our director is a first-rate mess. He is sleeping at the cabin (someone has to since all of our power tools were stolen: a skill-saw, saber-saw, drill, chainsaw) and seems to get more frazzled and less organized by the day.

After completing the filming at noon yesterday, Sam and I put away two-thirds of a bottle of scotch and smoked four doobs until we were stumbling idiots. I awoke a few hours later in total pain from sleeping on the floor and hung-over and drove back. I awoke at 10:30 P.M. and went right back to the cabin. I'm back at the homestead now taking a shit (actually leaving one) and awaiting the return to the cabin for filming.

Everyone including myself, is a fried-out wreck. This production is taking its toll.

Saturday, Dec. 1st, 1979 --

We've just returned from another all-night shoot, then breakfast and it's about 9:30 A.M. Early into last evening's proceedings I began drinking "Rebel Yell" bourbon, smoked a doob, then switched over to scotch and in no time felt incredibly bad. I tried to sleep on the couch in the main room and couldn't, then moved to the freezing back-room and crashed on a cot for several hours. When I awoke the sun was just coming up and Sam was still shooting the same scene as when I retired.

I feel like a total scum-bag. My only consolation is that Sam looks worse and assuredly feels worse.

We looked at the second load of rushes yesterday and among some real nice shots (the tire dropping through the bridge) the big events of the truck scene and the night-time knarled-hand/bridge scene were both let-downs. A bunch of the footage of the truck scene just wasn't there, and what was there didn't look very good. As for the bridge, well, it's almost a total waste. the knarled hand effect isn't there, the crane shot doesn't work and the whole thing looks like a cheap, backyard set. 

Sam is now considering shooting both scenes again -- which is obviously insane since there is possibly twenty-minutes of film shot.

I entirely understand Sam's directorial technique now: he breaks every scene down to every possible angle and films them all, thus giving himself total latitude in the editing room. It's a viable method, but not rational for this production.

Sunday, Dec. 2nd, 1979 --

Once again I have just returned from an all-night shoot. Although things were still slow, they went appreciably faster than usual.

Sam looks like he's on his last leg. Now he's really like a punch-drunk boxer. Nevertheless, he's still right on top of the action (as he says quite often) and he's getting some nice footage.

Aside from the fact that I still have serious doubts about the completion of this film and that neither Betsy, Theresa or Bruce is giving a particularly good performance, this film will be slick as shit and have some great things in it.

Wednesday, Dec. 5th, 1979 --

Tonight is going to be another all-nighter for two scenes: Ellen running through the woods and Rich walking into the cabin looking through all the rooms.

Last night I picked the optometrist up at the airport. He had the white "monster" contact lenses with him for the girls that are just repulsive-looking -- very effective. An interesting sideline is that they can only be kept in for fifteen minutes, five times a day. This seems like it ought to effect Sam's shooting style just a bit, and the whole end of the movie has these contacts in.

On the way back from the airport with the optometrist I took the wrong fork on the Andrew Johnson Hwy, realized my mistake immediately, turned around on the hwy, cut across the median and was pulled over by the police. I showed him my license and he informed me I had just broken about three laws, then asked what I was doing in Tennessee anyway? I told him I was part of the production of a horror film called "Book of the Dead" being shot in Morristown, that I had just picked up the optometrist from the airport who had the white contact lenses for the monsters and I wasn't sure of my way back to Morristown. He seemed a little incredulous, smiled, and told me to just keep going the way I was going and that was that.

Also, we (although not I) were on TV yesterday. The Knoxville news filmed this press conference that Gary has set up, then they all went out to the cabin. It was kind of funny.

The shit hit the fan yesterday finally and everyone voiced their gripes -- and there were a lot of them. Rob and Bruce (not Sam) listened to them all, said something would be done, mainly with getting Sam to straighten out his act, get the schedule normalized, give someone the job of production manager and someone the job of assistant cameraman, keeping the house clean and many, many more. Once everything was aired it was all promptly forgotten and things continue exactly as they were.

I am tentatively considering just not going back to Detroit. I'd like to meet Sheldon somewhere between here and L.A. and figuring out what we can do with "Bloodbath." I'll call him. I would like to rewrite it myself first, but going home will just cause me grief and despair 

-- that I can count on.

We would either have to sell it, which would be okay, but I would rather make it myself. That would entail a lot of time and money and shooting a short version which this script doesn't really lend itself to. Also, that much time with Sheldon would drive me insane.

Much later . . .

The shooting has ceased (it's 7:00 A.M.) and one scene was filmed -- Ellen running through the woods. It was nicely done: 120 feet of dolly track (particle board), four 1000 watt lights and the 5000 watt light on the driveway, with access to a high angle shot on one side and a low angle on the other. We did twenty-two takes of her running in a nightie and undies (it was about 40 degrees), then two of her falling at the camera.

On the second take she fell hard and scraped her leg, got pissed, began cursing and said she couldn't film anymore -- shooting came to a halt.

Right now upstairs there is a discussion about upcoming scenes, many of which are with the contacts which can only come in and out five times a day, fifteen minutes at a time. For Sam that pretty much means no exact run-through and probably about two quick takes. Not because I said so, but out of necessity he will have to rehearse his actors and go for the big takes -- or he will be fucked.

"Book of the Dead" is three full days behind schedule, with no contingency days. Rob mentioned staying beyond the 22nd today, just in passing.

Saturday, Dec. 8th, 1979 --

I just returned from seeing "Star Trek: the Motion Picture" and am exceedingly unimpressed, however I did get off from work for a while so I'm still rather pleased to have seen it.

Ivan and Rob's sister and another fellow arrived today and are presently out at the location filling Don's and my shoes -- fine, I need a break.

Shooting continues with increased fervor now that the horror scenes have begun and for most of it the contact lenses are in. Out of necessity we must begin shooting this film rationally.

Later . . .

I finished "Nine Stories" by J.D. Salinger and they were terrific. I've heard rumors that there are more of his stories available, I must check it out.

I have an inkling of an idea as to how to adapt the Glass family stories into a single film 

-- something to think about.

Sunday, Dec. 9th, 1979 --

After shooting all day and night we all came home and watched our movies. Only Tom, Theresa and Ellen saw "Holding It," but they liked it. The big success was "Happy Valley Kid," which it ought to be.

Monday, Dec. 10th, 1979 --

I spent today watching and logging the rushes. It took me eight hours to watch eight reels (three remain) and after that my mind was numb. The ulterior motive for my spending the day watching the rushes is that 1200 feet of film is missing. I did not locate any of it.

Anyway, I slept for four hours, felt amazingly refreshed and have been up since reading "Altered States" by Paddy Chayefsky.

I dreamt last night that I was in love and holding her close. Upon awakening I attributed this woman to Robin [my former girlfriend], but I'm not so sure it was.

Yesterday Dart came up to me out of the blue and said, "Stop trying to get even, get ahead." He didn't seem able to explain this comment very well, but related it to things I had said to him and repeated it a few times. It's stuck with me. I am trying to get even a lot of the time; to do and outdo what Sam has done, to prove myself. But I really can't do it alone and those I want help from won't do it. They'll let me work for them, but not with them. I will not work for them ever again. It's been a gainful experience, but also a compromising position. Next time it's either with them or without them. I'll work with Cameron if I have to.

Saturday, Dec. 15th, 1979 --

I skipped out of the shoot this evening without asking and with no particularly good reason. Ivan and his friend came back down here and are playing P.A. so I'm less than needed, I'm in the way. Well, I won't intentionally be in the way, that's for sure.

Things are progressing at an increasingly slow rate (since all of the difficult things were saved for last) and the quality seems to be dropping, although Sam continues to come up with a lot of interesting shots. It seems apparent to several people now that the final film will be rather short, or, as Tom Sullivan said this evening, "Short of an hour," which is very short.

Sam seems to be going through some kind of phase in which he has to prove his manhood. It's done seemingly in jest, but not in totality. For instance, last night we were shooting Betsy popping her hand out of the grave and grabbing Bruce's arm. Aside from the fact that it's too much of a rip-off to deal with, it was an insert of a hand grabbing an arm and we actually buried Betsy. To compound this stupidity it was 15 degrees out and piercing and Sam once again went into a hyper-meticulous state and spent 5 hours shooting the insert.

Monday, Dec. 17th, 1979 --

Soon we'll be leaving for the location again and once again I'm dreading it. Last night was unquestionably the coldest yet, possibly zero and just absurd weather to be doing extensive exteriors in. Aside from the fact that it's awful to be out in personally, both lights and cameras resent it, too -- the Arriflex BL freezes up regularly now and has to be thawed by the fire.

The night before last the tension between cast, crew and head honchos almost came to the boiling point. I can't finish this now, Sam just told me I have to go.

Tuesday, Dec. 18th, 1979 --

I'm not exactly sure it's Tuesday or the 18th, but anyway . . .

Yesterday's filming was dreadful: it was astoundingly cold, long pauses between every stage of filming, then Sam did another of his fourteen takes a shot business.

When everyone got home Sam, Rob, Bill (their friend and ex-professor from MSU) and myself sat around smoking pot, discussing LSD and movies. When everyone else had retired and I was attempting to draw Sam's storyboards (this was 8:30 A.M.) Sam decided to let me in on how to make it in the directorial world -- "make a ten-minute gem." This is to show everyone that I can direct. He said that he and Rob and Bruce would gladly help me.

I was awakened today at noon and just ignored whoever did the waking and was not re-awakened. It's now 10:00 P.M.

With all of this unexpected time on my hands I read Strindberg's "The Stronger" (I finished "Altered States" last night), then watched Sam's "ten-minute gem" "Clockwork" which is fun, has one terrific shot and is immediately forgettable. I also watched his Shakespeare film, which I had never seen, and was very impressed; it's very funny.

Even though I haven't got the money I think I will do as he says. Now to think it up.

Later . . .

Several hours ago Betsy called from the location to get Ellen out just as Tom was completing her make-up. Betsy had mentioned that she had had her contacts in nine times already, four more than allowed, and there were still shots to do. I called and spoke with Rob about it and was told to mind my own business. Tom went out with Ellen to straighten things out and has yet to return.

So, with all this time on my hands I read "The Jaws Log" by Carl Gottlieb which was interesting.

Friday, Dec. 21st, 1979 --

This filmmaking epoch draws to a close tomorrow for many of us in "Book of the Dead." Ellen and Betsy both left today, Sunday Rich, myself, Don and Tom will leave. I'm kind of sad to see it end even if it has been a major source of grief it's also been very educational. And of all of Sam's drawbacks and inabilities as a director he never forgot the point of the film and may very well succeed on technique alone. Early this morning after we had watched "Holding It," Sam's "Shakespeare Film" and some rushes, Rob, Sam and I smoked some pot and talked and Sam related filmmaking to being a magician. He said the only thing a magician is thinking about while performing is, "do they know how I'm doing this trick?" If they don't, he's succeeding -- period. The point also isn't to just make the film, it's to amaze yourself and everyone at the same time. If you think what you're doing is neat, chances are everyone else will, too.

Nothing says I have to leave Sunday, I could stay the next two weeks, but I don't think it's a real good idea. My services are not particularly needed and feeling unneeded I become aggravated and despondent, so maybe leaving is the best thing -- but going home certainly isn't.

Later . . .

If everything works out right I'll be going to the movies tomorrow -- hopefully I'll catch two.

Sam and Rob asked me to stay on and run sound and I agreed. I have no reason to go home, so why not spend Christmas and New Year with the boys.

And they asked me.

Saturday, Dec. 22nd, 1979 --

I'm presently seated in the Capri Terrace in Knoxville, Tenn. awaiting the beginning of "The Black Hole" which is in about a half hour. Surprisingly enough this isn't a bad theater: mildly large screen, reclining seats, decent sound system, this should be okay. After this I'm going to see "1941," then I've got to get to the airport at 10:00 P.M. to get a ride back. Because of the late date I may be better off calling in my reviews to Rick and have her transcribe them.

Scott Joplin rags are playing pleasantly as I wait out the purgatory of sitting in a movie theater before the film.

Later . . .

I'm sitting on the side of the road in Knoxville waiting for Ivan Raimi to pick me up. The instructions on how to get here were pretty easy, but Ivan'll never find it. Aside from having no sense of direction he didn't pay much attention to me when I explained. I'm sitting here for naught.

Sunday, Dec. 23rd, 1979 --

Early this morning Rich, John, Don and Tom all left for home and now just the rot-gut cast and crew is left -- and Ted Raimi. What he's doing here I couldn't say, however within an hour of Ted's arrival I wanted to kill him. I was vainly attempting to re-write my reviews and Ted did almost everything within his means to distract me, and thoroughly succeeded.

At this point I still have two reviews to do and my only recourse will be to read them to Rick over the phone.

So now I'm sound man. Although I haven't yet used the mixer, everything else is fairly simple. The stuff I did last night sounds fine.

Dec. 28th, Friday, 1979 --

Another long night of shooting. It's 8:00 A.M. and I'm just going to bed.

Cameron and Ditz are here adding a new, dryer flavor of humor to the scene. John is apparently very bitter about this and has said that he hates Sam.

Interestingly enough, Sam and I are getting along rather well. He's a zombie, of course, bearded, dazed and confused, but he keeps it all going.

Tom Sullivan returned, a fresh, self-produced contract in hand demanding the rights to all his creations, $100.00 a day for being here after his old contract expired (although that was amended) and an assurance that he leaves the 29th. After that we do our own make-up and effects.

Goodnight.

Saturday, Dec. 29th, 1979 --

Lately Tim Philo has been rather pointed with me and any others who don't immediately respond to the call of duty with sarcastic quips. Several times I have found appropriate moments to use his quips right back at him, which always makes him smile. He and I just went out to breakfast and talked and happily there are no hard feelings at all.

Tom Sullivan leaves today, which should add some major obstacles to filming. What's left is almost all special effects and make-up and the most difficult aspects of both. Although I almost totally agree with Tom's P.O.V., his leaving us in the lurch with his effects on the line rather self-defeating. His point that this film is an "effects film" and he wasn't entrusted with his job until the last minute is valid, he should have been in on the proceedings from as early as possible. Anyway, his departure is going to make this last bit of filming a bigger chore than it already is.

And, this just occurred to me, if my reviews do not appear in this month's "Magazine" I will be compelled to quit.

Monday, Dec. 30th, 1979 --

Actually, it's the last day of the seventies, but I'm running a day behind. The eighties will be ushered in as myself and compadres frantically attempt to finish "Book of the Dead." The idea of working on a film through the decade appeals to me, although more in concept than in reality.

Ellen left today for good. Theresa arrives tonight, Rich leaves Friday, Ditz and Cameron left yesterday, Ivan and Tom Perlman will be back tonight and immediately leave, Tim leaves Friday, and all that will be left will be Sam, Rob, Bruce, Goody and myself.

As for money I've got $70.00, upon completion I should get between $250-300. and I have $100 at home. We're talkin' about $400.00 once back in Detroit. I immediately owe $40.00 on the phone. The rest may get my car fixed and get me away for a while. Even better would be, if the dope draught in Detroit continues, stopping in Atlanta and scoring through Goody's connection and making a bit more.

Tuesday, Jan. 1st, 1980 --

Another long night of shooting, but not too bad since there was just the necessary people on the set.

Last night, in celebration of the new year, I ate some speed, drank beer, bourbon, and champagne, began feeling very lousy but had to work and after four or five bad hours made a comeback. The highlight of this New Years was getting into a massive firecracker war, not unlike the way Sam, Bruce and I spent New Years 77-78.

Tonight I pushed Bruce to the breaking point. I kept squirting him with the shpritz bottle again and again until he gave me a the ultimatum that if I did it one more time he'd throw his cup of orange juice in my face. I squirted him again and lo and behold he threw his O.J. in my face. For some inexplicable reason I totally enjoyed the whole exchange, even the O.J., possibly because once he'd done it has was totally off guard and a Bruce Campbell of times past surfaced.

Sunday, Jan. 6th, 1979 [year crossed out] -- 1980

Sam, Rob, Bruce and I went out to the set about 6:00 P.M. today, cleaned up, cut wood, set-up and got one shot, then came home for dinner. Afterward, Sam crashed and wouldn't get up so it's another night off.

We've all been talking a lot in the last several days, mainly about "Book of the Dead," but also about other things. We discussed me at great length last night and Rob seems to think I'm lazy (as does Goody). I disagree, but it's interesting to hear.

Also, I believe Sam and I will begin cutting this film up upon our return while Rob and Bruce get money. That's great.

And also, I think I may be able to adapt "Bloodbath" into a compact half hour Super-8 film. I think I'll also do a ten minute chase film, too.

Monday, Jan. 7th, 1979 -- [all crossed out] Tuesday, Jan. 8th, 1979 -- [the date is crossed out] 1980

Today was ridiculous. In fourteen hours we got two shots. It's finally gotten to the point where I consider "Book of the Dead" to be partially mine. The first shot today was going to be a dolly from Bruce's profile to his front. Now it's from profile to front, then back and down for a low angle. The additions were mine. The shot of Betsy lifting Bruce up is mine as well as the zoom from outside at the stump through the window, partially the tracking of the van up Clinch Mt. and . . . the last shot of the film, when it's shot, is all mine (with a tad of revision from Philo). I'm quite pleased about contributing. There's also some inserts of Ellen running that I shot, although they probably won't get used.

Friday, Jan 11th, 1979 [date crossed out]-- 1980

It's raining, it's pouring. It's 12:30 P.M. and not only are we not out at the set, Rob and Sam aren't even awake yet. If we get anything done today I'll be surprised.

Things have been going along fairly well, although slow. Each day Sam or Rob is sure to say, "We'll get twenty-five shots today." I'd say we're averaging about six or seven.

Yesterday, Rob was saying since he hasn't any written documents with Gary Holt he's not going to give him a percentage, which Gary is expecting. I asked how much of a percentage was Gary expecting and Rob replied "I can't tell you." Well, it's really no big deal and I actually don't care what Gary gets, but the fact that I'm here three weeks beyond my contract with no pay increase, I'm doing a lot of the lighting, loading both cameras, recording sound and most anything else that needs to be done (which is quite a bit), I really don't need any reminders that I'm merely an employee of Renaissance Pictures and not a partner. Everyone but Goody and Don Campbell made more than me and stands to make more if the film goes anywhere and none of them saw fit to stick this thing out -- Well, I'm kind of pissed. My only ulterior motive was that I might become part of the company, but now (and I've been feeling this down in the core of my being for several days now) I don't think I'll ever become one with these guys. I wasn't with them from the beginning and I'll never be allowed to forget it. As Rob is never wont in reminding me, I simply can't understand how difficult it was getting the money.

Fine.

Later . . .

Sam gave me the day off, although I certainly didn't ask for it. Along with the day off he also gave me a list of things to get and told me to go to the airport and drop off the film, which I just did and now I'm in the Big Boy across the street.

Back in the days when I was a P.A. and rather paranoid about being fired, Goody informed me today that my fears were justified and they were planning on it. Goody said he talked to Sam in the workshed and persuaded him not to.

Now I'm in Howard Johnson's having just seen "Going in Style," which was interesting, but oddly written and paced and didn't really go anywhere. What was really neat was seeing the trailer for "The Shining." There was more blood in it than all of "Book of the Dead." Very effective.

Once again I get the odd impression I may be fired. I'll return to Morristown and be asked to leave -- politely, yet firmly. It would be exceedingly asinine considering the crew, yet imminently possible.

Why am I unable to broach the subject of joining the co.? Because I'll be rejected, that's why. It's a stupid attitude and thoroughly in keeping with my past performance.

Now an hour drive back to grief.
 
 

[Written on the back of a folded script log form]

Wednesday, Jan. 16th, 1979 --

I'm going insane! Nothing makes any sense! I can't keep my mind focused on a single thought! My mental processes have no continuity at all! I just want to have one uninterrupted day of thought, but "Book of the Dead" will not end!

Thursday, Jan. 17th, 1979 -- [year crossed out] 1980

We're presently watching rushes (I was, but I've escaped to the W.C.) and I don't much care (aside from the very few shots I did or lit).

Yesterday, out at location, I began going crazy. I felt it coming, then awoke with the same persistent headache of the past four days, felt my stomach gurgling and wound up breakfast with a twenty-minute, gut-wrenching bout of diarrhea. The rest of the day was spent trying vainly to focus my mind on some thought other than "B.O.T.D.", but it was impossible. Everyone thought I was acting nuts so I played it up a bit and practically did nothing the whole day.

My psyche is damaged. My health is damaged, and for what? $50.00 a week? Certainly not. Fame? Even if this thing hits huge I won't get any notoriety. Companionship? possibly, however they have their projects and I mine and I just can't see them really coming together.

All day yesterday I was thinking of resigning and both Pam and Rick called telling me that mom and dad were gone, the house is ours, school is great, etc.

However, if I quit now both Rob and Sam will label me as they have everyone else -- an asshole for abandoning them. This shouldn't bother me too much, but I want to make movies too and these guys could help me a lot, but not if I'm an asshole.

I can't go back to the cabin, though. I would if I were doing just this or just that, but that's not how things go. The only person who gets any personal enjoyment is Sam and what he enjoys tortures the shit out of me.

What to do?

And now, after watching rushes, Sam has even more things to re-shoot, aside from all that need be shot. Two more weeks of this will ruin me.

Later . . .

The bulb on the projector blew and Bruce and I went to get a new one. On the way I told him of my feelings of bitterness and hostility and that I simply did not want to go out to the location anymore. He said he'd bring it up when we returned, which he did, like this: "Josh wants to leave," the topic immediately changed to: who can we get to replace him.

I broke in and explained just what was on my mind -- again -- said all that I needed to say, which was mainly directed at Sam and was agreed with, although first Sam got pissed, then insulting, then quiet. Sam has some splendid arguing techniques, but I was right and mad and he backed down.

And so, we're leaving next Wednesday (they say) and we have sixty shots to get and things as Sam says (for about the fourth time) are going to move.

Why is it that it's always me that locates and elucidates the problems? Everyone else surely knows them, they just won't say anything. So why do I?
 
 

Tuesday, Jan. 22nd, 1980 --

Things are coming to a close here on "Book of the Dead." Tomorrow we are supposed to be out of this house, although we may not. The plan is to shoot until Friday. I was pretty sure this evening's shoot would merge with the next three, but luckily it hasn't.

As of Jan. 18th I have been in charge of lighting and have been having a swell time. I'm trying a lot of extremely directional lighting and keeping everything at 5.6. This footage I can't wait to see.

Wednesday, Jan. 23rd, 1980

I just can't seem to keep it in mind that it's actually 1980. Maybe after we leave Tennessee it'll become real.

We have almost exclusively exteriors to shoot and it's raining. Very poor luck. As things stand the shots we lack are all seemingly necessary for the film to cut.

It's rather interesting, although I'm not exceedingly versed in the art of lighting, what I've done so far does look visibly better than Philo's work and it plainly tortures Rob that it all could have looked better. Fine, he ought to be tortured. 

We shall be leaving Friday or Saturday, I assume, but I'm not sure I can remember what life was like previous to "B.O.T.D." and I'm not sure I want to find out.

Even though Sam and I agreed I would assist him in editing (and we shook on it) I'm still a little skeptical as to whether I'll be editing or not. We'll see.

Anyway, I've got $116.00 in my possession, and about four weeks pay coming (if they have the money) which would be $200.00 and I've got $75.00 at home = $391.00. That should get me a little way.

Today's shoot was plain stupid. In about ten hours we got two shots. One shot took one hour, the other took nine.

[These pages are folded and crinkled]

Saturday, Jan 26th, 1980 --

I just awoke at the cabin, along with Bruce, Sam, Rob and Goody, and could barely move on account of a headache developed from mental abuse, beer, pot and sleeping on the floor. I took some aspirin (the staple of my diet over the past two weeks) and some vitamin C, drank some tea and improved somewhat -- now I only feel awful.

In the very near future, probably less than ten hours, we shall be headed back home. This may have been the most difficult and the most rewarding experience of my life. I began this shoot bitter, unhappy and a P.A. I end it fairly happy, exhausted, in mental and physical pain and lighting and sound man.

I've been thinking endlessly about "Bloodbath." It's such a natural, yet warped idea -- six marines take on the Manson family -- that possibly a totally American, John Wayne treatment might be perfect.

Tuesday, Jan. 29th, 1980 --

Back in Detroit.