Ivan
and Sam Raimi
Picture this for a moment girls and boys. There is a B-rate filmmaker who
creates things only Mark Borchardt (the American Movie guy, right?)
would get a big boner over. Not that I don't love Mr. Borchardt. I do. But
let's face it, even the best horror flick is dull, trite, and full of more
hype nuggets than the advertisement campaigns for the Ana Nicole-Smith show
have. Most fan-boys would not care to admit this. But I digress.
Please cut to present times - Raimi
hits the preverbal (note the slight homophone) pay dirt by landing the
Spider-Man movie. Okay, the bet is that from the readers that there are
cries of old news and who cares, right? Well, this is not about Spider-Man
true believers, no. I don't care about that flick any longer. It is about
all the bull shit in Hollywood and Mr. Raimi seems to be at the front of it.
You see there seems to be this decent
man who has found a cult following as a B film actor . . .no it is not Jason
Mewes I am referring to. It is Bruce Campbell. All the noobs cry out! "Who
the hell is Bruce Campbell?" Well, he is the actor who starred in, most
notably, Army of Darkness. He also has a book that came out not that
long ago, If Chins Could Kill. This is where it begins to become
really seedy and shity for Campbell.
In case some of you who have not read Campbell's book, (I suggest to all you
do) Ivan and Sam Raimi were asked to write the forward to the book for
Campbell. They both agreed, but what follows will be excepts that the
editor, Barry Neville, cites as some circumstances that followed this
debacle: (I have omitted parts that are not essential to showing the
behavior of the brothers)
In September of 199 I first
telephoned Mr. Ivan Raimi and conveyed Mr. Campbell's request. At first he
seemed rather impressed that such a large publishing house was handling Mr.
Campbell's book and happily agreed.
Within the hour, I received a call
from his "literary agent," who refused to give his name, but claimed he was
negotiating on the behalf of the brothers. Strangely, the caller ID feature
on my telephone revealed the number of this "agent to be the same of that of
Mr. Ivan Raimi . . . The "agent" said his fee was three thousand dollars. He
asked whether it would be possible to cut the check today? I informed the
"agent" that the customarily there is no fee paid for introductions . . .
St. Martin's issued a cashier's check
for $280dollars to Ivan Raimi in case you were wondering. You see Ivan Raimi
thought that the 280 was just a starter fee. It was not until October 1999
that Ivan and Sam met with Barry Neville.
BARRY: Hi, I'm Barry Neville
pleased to meet you. Bruce is very exicted to have you aboard.
SAM: Bruce Bruce Bruce this Bruce that.
BARRY: We think our readers will really respond to this book, kind of an
insider's-
SAM: You want to know what I think Barry? I think, your readers are tired of
the same old drivel pushed on them time after time. Tired of being forced to
puree' half-artists. Your reader's have teeth. For God's sake let em chew .
. . .
BARRY: Well, its interesting . . .but the task as hand is the introduction
to If Chins Could Kill.
SAM: I see. And who, may I ask, is going to read this book? His illiterate
fans? Barry people are getting the wrong idea sometimes. See, Bruce is like
a puppet. My puppet. I pull a string, he smiles. I pull another and he runs
through the woods and hits his head against a tree. And that's it. So tell
me Barry who is more interesting? The puppet or the puppet master?
Maybe it is at this point that I
should mention the tape-recorded session from Barry Neville's office where
Sam and Ivan call this whole thing "horse shit" and a "screw job." I might
also want to add that there were sounds on the tape of drawers opening and
some items came up missing in Neville's office. An antique silver clock, a
gold pen, and his cellular phone. When Mr. Neville's phone bill arrived
there were many calls to 900 numbers made on the same day that the recording
was made.
I ask you to draw your own
conclusions. How great is Sam Raimi now? Seems to me like he is a little
pimp fuck. But that's just me. |
