If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor (27 page)

After assembling on sound stage 44, we were herded into an actors' only dining area and seated with other performers. You'll never guess who was at my table -- that's right, the Chuckster. I took the opportunity to reintroduce myself.

"Mr. Heston, Bruce Campbell -- how funny that we'd be seated together."

"Oh?"

"Well, recently we met on Hollywood Boulevard. I wasn't really an actor then, I was just a big fan."

Thinking I was a gate crasher, Chuck glanced at a nearby security guard before answering.

"Did we?"

"Yep. And now I'm an actor --
just like you!"

"... Indeed."

Seeing that my nametag actually matched the place setting at our table, Chuck realized that he had to deal with me. "Uh... have you met my wife, Ben?"

"That's Bruce."

"Oh, yes... of course..."

After a rushed piece of chocolate cheesecake, Chuck excused himself from the table, so I hooked up with Rob and Sam again and we gawked at all of the famous actors there, like Martin Landau, David Soul and Morgan Fairchild. She was there, hawking a film, and we huddled up for a picture. As I looked over at Sam, I soon saw why he had such a big smile on his face -- he was giving Morgan the Rabbit Ears behind her head.

Recently, I had the opportunity to torment Charlton Heston again at a screening in Hollywood and I came a stutter away from calling him "Chuck." He still didn't recall meeting me, even after my detailed account of the other
two
times. I have a hunch that next time we meet, he'll either recognize me or have me arrested.

24

BEWARE THE SPORES

After just a week in Hollywood, Rob, Sam and I began to show symptoms of a bizarre disease, including wild mood swings that took us from lethargy to euphoria and back. We found ourselves less concerned with screenings or schedules and all we really wanted to do was go to the beach. Something had gone terribly wrong and we didn't know what it was or how to stop it.

After doing some independent research with experts in the field, we learned that the spores we had been infected with are a motivation-sapping virus that alters your perceptions of reality. If left untreated for five years or more, Chronic Spore Syndrome is likely to develop. Here is an example of this tragic condition:

Since we were in LA, I decided to look up my old boss, Verne, who had an office on the lot of Twentieth Century Fox. My tour of the back lot and subsequent meeting with him was exciting, but it wasn't nearly as educational as a conversation with a man on the bus bench outside the studio.

As I sat, waiting for Sam and Rob to pick me up in the Caddy, a well-tanned man turned his attention to me.

"Excuse me, do you have a few dollars for the bus?" he asked, unashamed.

As I fished through my pockets for loose change, he went on, jerking a thumb at the Fox lot behind us.

"That damn studio had me signed to a three-picture deal."

"Really?" I said, believing him.

"Yeah. They insisted that I do my own stunts and I got hurt on my first picture with them."

I looked at my tanned friend a little closer. He never made eye contact. A low Spore Count caused my Michigan suspicions to rise.

"Really," I said again, this time a little less enthusiastic.

"Yeah. Now, they won't pay up and I'm out of work."

"That's tough," I said, letting the coins drop back into my pocket, but he wasn't done explaining.

"See, I was a famous child actor. I was one of the kids in
Lassie."

"Oh," I said, looking for Rob and Sam in the Caddy. "Good for you."

The odd thing about his last reference was that it was so specific. For all I knew, the poor sap was a child actor who was driven insane by a strange profession. I didn't really want to get into it and luckily the convertible arrived to save me from further discussion.

In my own effort to rid the world of spores, I have tabulated a few early warning signs.

YOU KNOW THE SPORES HAVE GOTTEN YOU WHEN:

• Your day-to-day decision making process is ruled by fear instead of reason.
  
• You wear black to every Hollywood function.
  
• You deny the fact that you're from Gary, Indiana.
  
• You begin to despise your body.
  
• You attend parties hosted by losers, hoping to meet a winner.
  
• You entertain the notion of having a cell phone surgically implanted in your ear.
  

SPORE SPEAK:

• Look, I can't tie up the line, I'm waiting for Paramount, Universal and Columbia to call me back.
  
• Once I get my teeth fixed, I'm going to be a star!
  
• Titanic
  was the best film I've ever seen.
  

25

PLAYING KICK THE CANNES

The feeding frenzy of sales continued in May 1982 at the Cannes Film Market in France.

Since this event was an ocean away, Irvin Shapiro's budget could scarcely afford to send all of us, so Sam (as auteur) was chosen to go. Having learned a lesson or two from the American Film Market, we tweaked a few of our sales items -- notably a brochure, which we translated into French. To do this, Sam and I enlisted our high school French teacher, the venerable Madame Tessem. In addition to a fine translation, she also coached Sam on local customs, maps, etc.

Here, on the French Riviera, we got our next break. At one of many screenings, Stephen King happened to see our film. He liked
Evil Dead
so much, he wrote a hearty endorsement in the magazine
Twilight Zone.

In the article, he stated that
Evil Dead
was "the most ferociously original horror film of the year." You can't buy that type of promotion, so we begged him to let us put this phrase on all of our advertisements -- he agreed, and it made a huge difference.

A plug from one of horror's legends sent up a protective force field around our little film. Suddenly, critics took a second or even first look at it and several good reviews rolled in. Among them was the
LA Times,
pronouncing
Evil Dead,
"an instant classic."

Eventually, with the invaluable assistance of Mr. King, our film began to sell, territory by territory, around the globe. England promoted
Evil Dead
like it was an A picture. I'm not sure how Prince Charles felt about the theater, named after him, displaying giant photos of possessed monsters, but it happened nonetheless.

Eventually,
Evil Dead
became the number one video seller in England for 1983. It was a treat to look
further down
the list and see Stanley Kubrick's
The Shining.

26

THE DOWNSIDE OF THE UPSIDE

Eventually, with money coming in from overseas, New Line Cinema took renewed interest. I'd be a liar if I said the negotiation process was a love fest, but eventually we signed a distribution deal with them. January 6, 1983, we got our first domestic check.

That same day, we spent eight hours at the accountant's, sorting through four years of our shadowy past, trying to determine exactly who got what amount and when. We paid back thirty-three percent of our loans with that first New Line check. We were also able to keep that small town bank in the middle of Michigan from seizing my family's property and all three of us were able to pay off two months' worth of bills -- it was a start.

February 4, 1983,
Evil Dead
had a sneak preview in New York. This was pre-Disney New York and the crowd on 42nd Street ate it up. Detroit was the same -- May 6, I snuck into the Showcase Theaters and enjoyed a rowdy audience reaction.

It was a thrill to see our film playing in the same theater I had patronized for years, but it was something of an anticlimax.
Evil Dead
had taken four years to make, but its theatrical run was only a couple of months -- too short to get any sense of success.