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A Tale
From The New Zealand Trenches By John Kretchmer |
Veteran "Herc" and "Xena" director bares his soul.
Any resemblance to living persons is just their tough luck...
I have been directing episodes of Hercules and Xena since the first season of Herc, and still feel that the single best episode is "King of Thieves," which, unfortunately, I had nothing to do with. So, when I was offered the chance to direct this season's opening Herc episode ("Beanstalks and Bad Eggs") with Bruce Campbell, I jumped at the chance. I have been a fan of Bruce's work for years--Evil Dead 2 is certainly one of the most interesting horror films ever made; and Bryan Spicer has sung Bruce's praises for years, ever since directing the pilot of Brisco County. I was also aware of Bruce's role as a producer, so I was salivating at the opportunity to work with a talented actor who could also easily understand the problems I face, and help me solve them.
And then I began to worry. Knowing of Bruce's close connection to the producers, Rob Tapert and Sam Raimi, what if he doesn't like me? Would he put the kabosh on what has otherwise been a successful partnership in my brief but burgeoning career? And what if he is smarter than I am? Or worse, what if he thinks he is smarter than I am? Suddenly, things looked bleaker than I had hoped.
Bruce arrived in New Zealand a week after I did. Now, to paraphrase W. C. Fields, there comes a time in every director's life when he must grab the bull by the tail and face the situation. Or to mangle another cliche, the best defense is usually strongly offensive. So I decided to invite Bruce to dinner before we began filming and try and feel him out, i.e. figure out his weaknesses so that I could go for the jugular if necessary.
I chose a restaurant near his apartment so as to give him the impression that I was being amenable and kowtowing to his stature as a star, when, in fact, I was choosing the turf for what could be a battle of egos...ah...wills.
In my many trips to New Zealand, I had avoided renting a car because they, like the English, drive on the left. This time, however, I decided to give driving there a try. Things usually went well, except for the early mornings when I would open the left door, sit down, and wonder where the steering wheel was.
In any event, I left my apartment with plenty of time to get to the restaurant. It was raining, which, in Auckland, is a common occurance. What was uncommon was that not only could I not find my way, but, at one point, my car refused to climb a slippery hill, and I actually found myself sliding backwards.
I was going to be late--not a good thing for a person in my position, especially when you need to discipline certain actors on the need for punctuality...but I could make it within ten minutes of our appointed time, which, I felt, could be acceptable on a night of inclement weather.
I arrived in the Parnell neighborhood to discover...no parking spots. Not one for blocks. Not a single parking garage, not a sidewalk, nothing. Bupkis, in the words of my sainted grandmother. Now I started driving around...and driving around...and driving around. Things must be jumping on Friday nights, because I could not find anything.
Now I'm sweating, again, not a good thing for a man in my position, because how can I impress someone I have to work with if I smell like I'm in the eighth day of a five-day deoderant pad?
Finally, I find a spot, about 3/4 of a mile from the restaurant. I have to slog through the pouring rain to get to the place. Again, I'm not going to make a very good impression looking like a drowned rat.
I enter the restaurant, forty-five minutes tardy, and it is packed. I've never seen so many New Zealanders in one spot in three years. I figure it is free beer night. I spot Bruce by the maitre d's desk.
Before I can start my profuse apologies, he says, "Hey, knucklehead, just got here myself. Been waiting long?"
Did I do the honest thing and tell him that it was I who was late? Did I apologize for possibly keeping a man of his importance late? I ask you--what would you have done?
We ordered, and I asked Bruce a question I ask every star I work with: "What is it you like, and what is it you don't like in a director?" I then try hard as heck to give them what they want. It also allows me an out if they complain: "You didn't mention that during our initial meeting, so don't expect me to cater to you that way." Very strategic.
Bruce was very forthright: "I hate it during a rehearsal when a director physically moves me to a specific mark, because then I feel that he is saying, 'Don't screw up my shot with your acting,' and I immediately will only give 50% of my abilities, because it is as if he doesn't care about my contribution."
Now, this is a very smart attitude, even if I don't always agree with it. (The reason for my disagreement goes beyond the scope of this forum.)
Nevertheless, Bruce was clearly stating something that was very important to him, and, as the director, not only did I respect him for his honesty, but it became incumbent upon me to accede to his wishes. So I made a mental note to avoid placing him while lining up a shot.
Rehearsals, then shooting. Things could not have been more delightful. Bruce was everything I had hoped: creative, funny, willing to listen to my suggestions, and then improving on everything I designed, while coming up with wonderful ideas for every moment. It was a dream job for me, and, when you see the episode, I hope the joy I had in making the show is apparent. I urge you to tune in, if only to see our man Bruce DANCE THE TANGO, a moment that is destined for television history. And Bruce was also the darling of the crew, who delighted in his work and his professionalism.
One morning, we were to begin with Bruce, as Autolycus, approaching a castle which is nestled in the clouds. He was putting on his costume, and while we waited for him, I mentioned to the cameraman, John Mahaffie, about my repast with Bruce, and his dislike of being placed on specific marks during rehearsals. John smiled and proposed a plan. He put a lens on a viewfinder; I asked for three pieces of tape to be used as "marks," or places for Bruce to stand.
Bruce came in. I said, "Listen, Bruce, I need your help. John and I have come up with an idea for this scene that is pretty interesting, and wonder if we could have your cooperation in blocking it."
Bruce, ever the professional, said, "Of course, no problem." I said, "Okay, please, stand on this mark here." Bruce paused for a second, and then dutifully moved to where we had placed the tape. The expression on his face said, "What the heck are these boneheads doing? The script says I walk up to the castle door!" But he silently cooperated. John looked through the viewfinder. I asked, "How is it?" "Not bad," John said, "but it would be better if Bruce could be a little to the left." I grabbed Bruce's arm, and pushed him to John's left. "No, no, no," John said, "I meant Bruce's left." I grabbed Bruce's shoulder, and shoved him to the right. "How's that?" I asked. "Good," John replied. Bruce's face became darker, as in "I thought I discussed this with this moron at the restaurant, at which, by the way, the idiot arrived 45 minutes late, wet, and smelly." "Now let's put him on the next mark," John yelled. I indicated to Bruce the second piece of tape, which had been place arbitrarily three feet from the first, but facing 180 degrees from the original position. He slowly moved to it. John called out, "Good, good, but a little more right." I grabbed Bruce's arm. At first, I thought he was going to clock me. I could see the headline in Variety: "Brilliant Actor Falsely Arrested for Decking So-Called Director." Rest assured, my name would be in very, very small print. But he paused and looked around. Everyone on the crew was stifling giggles. Bruce caught on, and started to smile. The entire set exploded with laughter. Bruce said, "I really didn't think you guys were that crazy, but I thought, 'What the heck, I'll go with the flow.'"
Bruce was a good sport about the whole thing, and delivered a wonderful performance, one that he must receive full credit for. And I, for one, would delight in the opportunity to work with him again, anytime, anyplace. But I will be very, very careful about touching him.
Page Updated 03/30/00.