Beyond the Valley of the Dolls
Cast Reunion
from McFarland Publisher's Movie Talk from the Front Lines
by Michael Dare
Russ Meyer died September 18, 2004 but his films live on, one in particular...
Ten years later, through a startling twist of fate, I accidentally became a film critic for the L.A. Weekly, where my assignments were invariably B movies. After seeing and writing about thousands of B's, I kept coming back to Russ Meyer's films as the epitome of exploitation. I concluded that Beyond the Valley of the Dolls was unquestionably the best B movie ever made, the one against which all others must be compared. Some classic B's, such as Plan 9 from Outer Space, are fun because they are clearly the work of an idiot who thinks he's a genius. Others, like Amazon Women on the Moon, are fun because they are deliberately camp. What puts Beyond the Valley of the Dolls in a league of its own is the way it miraculously straddles the line. There's no way to tell whether the filmmaker is in on the joke until you actually meet Russ Meyer and see the twinkle in his eye.
It was 1970, and I had just moved to New York City to be an actor when someone in my class at the Lee Strasberg Institute invited me to a preview of a new movie. It was the first time I had ever been to an advance screening, and the theater was large and packed. When the film began, the audience started laughing, and they never stopped until the film ended, whereupon they immediately jumped to their feet in hysterical applause. But then it turned out the film was not really over, and they all went back to their seats for the first of innumerable codas, whooping and hollering in the most outrageous reaction to a film I had ever seen.
It was a most baffling encounter, and I could not figure it out for years afterward. I knew I was laughing too, but I could not tell if we were laughing AT the picture or WITH it. To this day, I'm not really sure if it's a comedy, but it unquestionably cracks me up. It is simultaneously the best and the worst movie ever made, and that screening is still one of the most exhilarating experiences I've ever had in a movie theater. The film was Russ Meyer's Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.
The Original Trailer
When I was voted in as a member of the Los Angeles Film Critic's Association, it was not that I had any particular desire to hang out in a crowded room with a gaggle of hatchet men and women, but you take what you can get. Actually, they're a fun bunch, and I was attracted to a series of screenings that the association was doing in conjunction with the UCLA Film and Television Archives, in which a member/critic showed a film with the movie makers present and then discussed the film afterward with the audience.
While other critics salivated over the prospect of getting Martin Scorsese to discuss The Last Temptation of Christ, I daydreamed about seeing Beyond the Valley of the Dolls again on a big screen. I called Russ Meyer and he bragged about a perfect 35MM print he had. He agreed to let us show it and to personally attend the discussion. I called Edy Williams, one of the unforgettable stars of the film ("I'd like to strap you on some time."), and she also agreed to attend.
I had no idea if film critic/screenwriter Roger Ebert considered Beyond the Valley of the Dolls a highlight or an embarrassment in his career, so I was delighted when he agreed to fly in from Chicago to attend the screening. My cup runneth over when I was miraculously able to gather the entire living cast as well, including novelist Michael Blodgett, Charles Napier, Dolly Read, David Gurian, and John LaZar, whose performance as Z Man ("This is my happening and it freaks me out.") is a genuine marvel that ruined his career. It was a fun reunion, since many of them had not seen each other in 20 years.
This turned out to be one of the most popular screenings in the Critic's Choice series, and more than 200 people were turned away at the door. The Voyager Company shot the discussion as a documentary to be included on the letterboxed laserdisc for their prestigious Criterion Collection. It never came out because 20th Century Fox refused permission, despite Mr. Meyer's approval, despite the fact that it wasn't available in any other format, and despite the fact they had no plans to release it themselves. Were they embarrassed about it? I can't imagine why, unless they've got something against transsexual superheroes who run around beheading Nazi manservants and guys dressed like Tarzan.
From Roger Ebert...
In 1990, a 20th anniversary screening of "Beyond The Valley of the Dolls" was held by the UCLA Film and Television archive. In attendance were the director Russ Meyer and stars Dolly Read, John Lazar, Edy Williams, Michael Blodgett, Charles Napier, Haji, and me, the screenwriter.
The panel discussion after the film was videotaped by the Voyager Collection for an intended entry in the Criterion Collection. 20th Century-Fox chose not to license the title, and released its own DVD, for which I recorded a commentary track.
The video recording was long thought to be lost, In January 2011 I learned from Michael Dare, who organized and emceed the event, that it had been rediscovered. He digitized it and posted it on You Tube, and I'm embedding it here.
A stretch at the top is murky because of low light, although you may glimpse the directors John Landis and Michael Richie, both fans of the film. Then everything becomes more clear.
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Here's a transcription of the discussion after the film...
July 12, 1990
John LaZar, David Gurian, Dolly Read, Charles Napier,
Roger Ebert, Michael Blodgett, Edy Williams, Russ MeyerMichael Dare: I can't possibly explain why this is one of my favorite movies of all time. There's no excuse for it. I can't say it's the best movie ever made, but it's certainly one of my favorites.
For the Los Angeles Film Critic's Association to pay tribute to this film is sort of like the National Wine Critic's Association paying tribute to Boone's Farm. First of all, I'd like to ask Russ Meyer how on earth he convinced 20th Century Fox to let him make this movie.
Russ Meyer: Well, I think Roger said it. He said they put the nuts in charge of the asylum. The man that gave us our shot - or there were two men - Abe Burrows, an Obie playwright, and Darryl Zanuck. And they'd seen an earlier film that was making a few bucks in New York, and they couldn't get a print because we were booked into about 190 theaters. And at that time that was a lot of theaters for an independent film.
So they had to go to a theater that was local to them, and it happened to be a stroke house down on 42nd Street. So the two big people went there and saw the film and supposedly, Burrows said, "Well, if a klutz like that can make a film that successfully and that attractive for $69,000, you ought to throw him a bone." So that's how it really began.
I went over to Fox and met the son, Richard Zanuck, and he gave me five thousand bucks. And by that time I had become quite friendly with Roger. We thought a lot about the same kind of ladies, anyway. We had a little bit in common. I respected the fact that he was much younger than myself and could put a certain amount of input into the picture that I couldn't by myself.
Fortunately, not for some people, but the Manson murders had come along at that time, so I was able to incorporate that as a basis for the ending of the film. Zanuck himself in a long cablegram that he sent me from Cannes after Roger finished this marvelous treatment said, "I think it's a little tough, that whole aspect of utilizing the Manson killings, but I'm sure you'll use good taste when you do present it."
Roger then completed the script, and it was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life to work under circumstances where, heretofore, I'd only worked with a crew of five, and now I had about 55. A lot of Indians to do your bidding. And I shall never forget it. It was an experience that was probably the most rewarding period of my life. That's a long speech for me.
Dare: Mr. Ebert, what was the specific assignment that you were given here? Did you have guidelines?
Roger Ebert: A camp, rock 'n' roll, horror, exploitation musical. I had been a fan of Russ's work since The Immoral Mr. Teas, which played for two and a half years at the Illini Theater in my hometown - providing people with someplace to go during final exam week and in-between too. It was a long run.
And I had seen all of Russ's movies subsequent to that, including Motor Psycho!, Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, Mud Honey!, Lorna, Mondo Topless, and Eve and the Handyman, and the others.
And so when the Wall Street Journal ran a front-page article about him, "A Tribute to King Lear," written by the reporter with a marvelous name of Stephen Lovelady, I wrote a letter to the editor of the WSJ saying that I thought it was about time that Russ Meyer was acknowledged as an original filmmaker. And as a very good filmmaker.
In times to come, and years to come, and into the next century, Russ Meyer's films will be seen as art in the same sense as Andy Warhol's work and Al Capp's work - popular art of a very particular and original and unique nature.
Just recently I put myself way out on a limb. I saw Wild at Heart, David Lynch's new film, at the Cannes Film Festival, where it won the Palm d'Or, the grand prize of the Cannes Film Festival. And it sounded a little bit strange to be writing these words, but I felt to be honest to myself that I had to say that "there was nothing in Wild at Heart that Beyond the Valley of the Dolls didn't do better twenty years earlier."
When it was mentioned earlier that this movie was part of postmodernism, it seems to me that the only true postmodernist works are those which were made before anybody knew that they were postmodernist - because, you see, once you know what you're doing, you're not doing it anymore. How can you set out to be postmodernist? At that point it's too late. You're premodernist again.
And this movie is exactly what it is, an extremely original and unique film. There's not another movie like it, as far as I know. I wish there were. So, after I wrote the letter to the WSJ, Russ wrote me a letter, and the next time he was in Chicago we had dinner, and then when I came out here we had dinner again, and we eventually became friendly.
When 20th Century Fox offered him to opportunity to produce Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, which at that point was only a title, he called me up and offered me the job, and I took it. I came out here.
He tried to get me to stay at the Sunset Retirement Home. He felt it would be very quite there, and I'd get more work done. I wound up at the Sunset Marquis, but I quickly became aware of Russ's theories about writing, which was that it was much the same activity as typing.
We were supplied with a suite of offices at 20th. We had a secretary named June in the middle, and at the left was Russ, and on the right was me. He insisted that the doors be kept open so that he could hear if the typewriter was going, and if there was ever a moment when there wasn't any typing going on, I would hear [Shouts.] "What's the matter?"
And so the remarkable thing under these circumstances is that it took as long as six weeks to write the screenplay. His system was that we would talk through things with long yellow legal pads. We started the process by screening Valley of the Dolls. We had, neither one of us, ever read the novel, and I hope never to read the novel.
And we thought, well, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Valley of the Dolls is about three young women who come to Hollywood hoping to find stardom and su
ccess, and they find their way down to the bottom through abuses in terms of drugs, and alcohol, and sex.
This seemed like a good placed to start for us and so we, essentially, took the same thing. And instead of making them actresses, we made them rock singers. And then we just made it up as we went along.
I remember the day that we found out that Ronnie Z-Man Barzo was a woman. He was not written as a woman until the moment that he opened up his shirt. Up until that moment he was a man.
And I said, "Russ, you're not going to believe this. We've just had a startling development in the plot here." He said, "That's fabulous. That's great."
And so we did a treatment, another treatment, and a couple of screen- plays. And then Russ went to work and shot the film and casting these wonderful people who all look exactly the same today. I think we could do a sequel, you know, and set it in 1971.
Dare: I have sort of a generic question for all of the actors who are here today, which is, basically, what was your life like in 1969 when you got cast in this movie? And how did this film change your life? Let's start with Michael Blodgett.
Michael Blodgett: I'll tell you, I haven't seen this film in a long time. I'll tell you something: Watching it knocked me down. I'm not kidding. Honestly, I have seen it maybe once in fifteen years.
I'm not an actor anymore. I stopped doing anything on camera about 1976, and I've been a writer ever since. I've written some novels, and I've writ- ten several movies. But back then I was heavily into acting, and it was my career. As a matter of fact, I was going to law school at the time. I was like putting myself through law school by working movies. I had taken some time off to do a picture for Joseph L. Mankiewicz at Warner Brothers called There Was a Crooked Man which was written by David Newman and Robert Benton, the people that did Bonnie and Clyde. It starred Kirk Douglas and Henry Fonda and Burgess Meredith. It was a huge, big movie that I had the third lead in.
So it had not been realized at the time that my agent called me and said, there's something real interesting going on at Fox. And there's a guy over there that has made several films, and they made a lot of dough. And the people at Fox would love to have him come and make some of that dough for them. His name is Russ Meyer. I had loved his other pictures, like The Immoral Mr. Teas, and I knew who he was.
I went over, and I sat down with him, and he was unlike anybody I'd ever met in this business before. He was candid, not full of bullshit, at least as I read it.
And you know he said, "You know what I'd like to do? You've done a lot of work and a lot of the other people who are going to be in this film haven't. And I'd like you to come in here and sort of be a linchpin in this."
I said, "Jesus!" That was a great stoke for my ego, right? And I thought about the Warner Brothers picture coming out. And I thought about a lot of things. And I said, "I don't know."
He said, "I'll tell you something. We are going to have a lot of fun. That I can promise you."
And we really did. I'll tell you, the kinds of things that happened during and after, the relationships that came from this picture. I mean, it's ... Russ was married to Edy after the picture. I went out with Cynthia Myers. I don't know, three or four years...
Ebert: You're kidding! [everyone cracks up.]
Blodgett: Dolly married Dick Martin, and he would come down on the set down at Fox. I mean, it was a time. You got to understand, also that in 1969-70 that this town was just sizzling. I mean, it was a drug culture. Sex was wide open. There weren't any diseases or problems. And I'll tell you, he was a man of his word. We really had a lot of fun. Thank you for inviting me this evening. It just blew me away. Thanks.
Dare: Who's next in line? Haji. Yes.
Haji: Hi guys. Nice to see all you people here today. Thanks for coming. What was the question? What did the film do?
Dare: What was your life like in 1969 before this movie? And how did the film change that?
Haji: Well it's always been a pleasure working for Russ. I was away at the time when Russ committed to doing this film for Twentieth. But you know when I was working with him on Faster, Pussy Cat! Kill! Kill! I used to always tell Russ, "Oh you're going to go to the big time. Don't worry, Russ, you're going to be working at the big time." And he used to be very modest and say, "Oh, sure, sure," you know.
When I came back into town someone told me, "Did you hear about your friend Russ Meyer? He's working over at Twentieth." And I said, "Oh, I can't believe it." Immediately, I got in my car and I went to Twentieth Century-Fox. I didn't even call him to say I was coming. I just went to the gate. And they said, "Yes?"
I said, "Oh, I'd like to see Russ Meyer. Could you please tell him Haji is here?" And he greeted me very nicely. I went upstairs, and it was so exciting to walk into the office and see him there.
I said, "I told you, baby. You're going to make it to be big time." You know.
And he says, "Where have you been, anyway? Listen, everybody's been cast." He was very nice. He said, "I'm just going to put you in somewhere. You'll work for a couple of weeks. Make some money. And we'll find some- thing for you to do."
He let me figure out some of the dancing I did, which I enjoyed doing. And then from there, after the film was over, I had such a small part in the film, but I got a lot of publicity from it. I don't know why, but I had a nice spread in Show magazine and a few others. So I figure, well maybe I can make a little money from this. So I took the publicity, and I went to an agent and I said, "Look," I was a dancer at the time. So I said, "Why don't you send me on the road and make some money?"
And he said, "Better yet, I'll book you in Vegas."
And that was with Circus Circus. I worked there for a while and made some good money. And it was a nice place to work. Really was. And that was my reward from Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.
Dare: Edy Williams.
Edy Williams: [Reenacting a line from the film.] "Oooh, I'd like to strap you on sometime." [Big laughs.] (And I can lie peaceful in my grave knowing that Edy Williams once looked me in the eye and "Oooh, I'd like to strap you on sometime." - MD) Roger, I get more fan letters. They really like the lines you wrote ....
Ebert: You know. I can't take credit for that line. That line is Russ's line. And I think he got it from someone else: "I'd like to strap you on sometime."
Meyer: Oh, no, I'm sure that's Edy's line. [More big laughs.]
Williams: Well, let's see, I met Russ at Twentieth Century-Fox, and he showed me the script, and I said, "Oh my God, you're going to film this in six weeks? This script needs three months." And I remember I said, "I really would like to be able to rehearse on the set in order for it to be really good" in what I was doing. And it was wonderful because most directors, they don't stop and get real involved with what they're doing. They do it very, very fast.
And he said, "OK, if you want to rehearse. Then you have to be on the sound stage before the crew arrives at five in the morning."
And I thought, "Wow, he is game. He is -- this is incredible, this is fantastic." And I thought, "OK, you're on." And we did. We met very early in the morning. And we mapped out the scenes on the set using the props and everything we were going to do. He planned it all out. And then his crew came. And I really felt like the scenes went much better than other films I've done because he had that rapport. He communicated with everybody.
And he invited everybody to come to his apartment and rehearse the scenes. And he fixed dinner for everyone. [Everyone responds to the inference.] You know it was...[Big laughs. Her voice rises to a crescendo]. And then we got married! [She cracks up.]
And I had a wonderful time with him because we got to go promote the picture. It was great. Me and him and Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. The three of us. We went to all these exciting places. We went to London, and then we went to Chicago.
And I did something else. And he did something else. But it's incredible, because it's like, you know, everywhere, it's like part of my life, and I'm real proud of it. And everywhere I go, people ask me about him.
And I say, "Well we don't really see each other," because actually we haven't been next to each other closely in about, what, twelve years? So right in front of everybody, right now, I have to shake Russ's hand, because he got us all here tonight [Applause/laughter.]
Meyer: I'd like to bring up one point when we did the Rolls-Royce sequence.
Ebert: It was a Bentley, Russ.
Meyer: OK, with the Bentley, whatever. I showed it to Edy. I was a little concerned because I had met her family, and I was afraid maybe it might have been a little too strong. And she chastised me for saying, "It's got to be stronger than this." And one shot that was in the film was because of her criticism. She said, "I at least should take off my pants." And that really...
Williams: I did?
Meyer: Yeah, you really chewed my ass out there.
Williams: [Defiantly, with her teeth gritted.] I said, "I can't do this scene with all these people around watching." And I said, you know, "You're going to have to have everybody leave because otherwise there's no way I can do it. I've never done nudity in a picture before." And so.
[Softening.] Actually he was very nice because he said, "OK, I'll have the crew leave, and everybody will leave the set, and I'll turn the camera on and you can do the scene yourself." [An aside through giggles.] Something like that... Anyway, we should have kept the goddam Rolls-Royce.
Meyer: Who ... who...? [owned it?] [Cutting it off short.] Well, anyway. Also, I think she had come up with some really good stuff, particularly that thing ... you know ... "strap you on with." That line with when we had the Princess Livingston and the guy by the name of Ross and so forth?
Williams: Yeah. Ken Ross.
Meyer: It was a marvelous piece of acting. Together with the fact, too, about driving along in the Rolls-Royce. That was -- I mean, I think you contributed so big to that motion picture. There's no question about it. Just as everybody else that worked on it. You had a special something that came very much to bear. I do appreciate that. Your contribution was very, very large.
Dare: Well, thank you Edy. John, why don't you tell us what you'd done before Z Man.
John LaZar: Well, I was in Hawaii doing a picture and the late Bill Benjamin -- he was casting agent for Fox, and he discovered me, and brought me out to Fox. I met Russ. Russ handed me The Burple Blade Goes Snicker-Snack. I looked at it, and I said, "OK." And I did it. And he seemed to like it. I was so new to the film business that for the first six weeks I thought I was shooting a Western.
And you know, to placate me they said, "You know, really you're doing Richard III." So they treated me very well. But, but... what else do you want to know? Oh, I sired my first son during the shooting of that film. He's now a policeman in San Francisco, which is really weird. I'm from San Francisco. My father was a gambler. I'm an actor. He's a cop. I don't know where we went wrong. [More laughs.] That's about it. I'll tell you honestly, it's the best role I ever had in films. And Russ is beyond a shadow of a doubt the best director I've ever worked with. I'd kill to get a role like that, again. Literally [More laughs and applause.]
Meyer: It just so happens that we've got one role coming up that probably you'd be very well suited for.
LaZar: I don't have to kill anybody?
Ebert: He didn't say that.
Dare: So, David, what was your life like in 1969?
David Gurian: What was my life like? I don't know what it was like. But this was my first and last role in the moving picture business. But I still feel like a star. No, it was a big opportunity for me at the time. I mean, this was one of those things where you sit down, and you read for somebody, and you've studied acting in college, and you've done teenage drama workshops, you know, Cinderella, Rumplestiltskin, and stuff like that. And you sit down in front of somebody who's professional, you know, producers -- Roger and Russ. And they go, "Gawd, that was a great reading." And you go, "Really?"
And they go, "You know, you're kind of up for this part." And you go, "Oh, OK." I knew that. And you take your little portfolio with your little eight by tens and you walk out on the platform, and you jump downstairs, you know, like this. But no, seriously, Michael and John and Dolly and Chuck and a few other people that aren't here helped me out immensely on this. I mean, I was out in the ozone. And they befriended me. And we had a great time. These people are really, really wonderful. And it's tough to be an actor. Real tough. And to stay in the business like they have, and to contribute like they have, is commendable, seriously.
Dare: It's your turn, Dolly.
Dolly Read Martin: Oh, God. Oh, thank you. [Responding to an enthusiastic audience and some whistles.] I'm from England, and I was a Playmate in 1966 for Playboy magazine, and I came to America, and in 1969 I was broke. I'm talking broke. I couldn't work over here. And I remember going to the International House of Pancakes to get a job as a waitress, and they turned me down. And to this day I've never been in an International House of Pancakes -- that'll show 'em. And I was really, really broke.
My agent sent me for the role. And in fact, not this role, a different role. As I went up to Twentieth Century-Fox there was a big sign up. They had made Hello, Dolly then. And it said, "Hello, Dolly" and I said, "Yeah! Yeah!" And I got the job.
And Russ was fabulous. Is fabulous. But tough. Wow. I mean he was. He's got a heart of mush. He's just the most wonderful, warmhearted, super guy. But, he's like Poppa. Poppa Bear. And between threatening you every five minutes and loving you every five minutes, he was a total gentleman and a super guy.
And Roger was a staple. Every time Russ was going to make me cry, Roger was there. Right, Roger? Remember that?
Ebert: Right.
Read: He doesn't remember that! [Everyone cracks up.] But then I remember after the movie was over, and we all had a super time. After the movie was over, and I was in the hospital for one thing or another. And when I woke up from the operation, there was Russ with a big bouquet of red roses, and he was the first person I saw. He's always been there for me. He was there when my parents came over from England. He took them to San Francisco. I mean he's a super, super guy. And I loved doing the movie. It took a lot of guts for me to come here twenty years later. [More laughs.] Lower that light a bit!
Dare: Charles, you've made several films with Russ. How was this one a different experience from the others?
Charles Napier: Yeah, they keep saying all these wonderful things. How come you never did that for me?
[Laughs.] Shit. We made them out of the back of a pickup truck. (Very funny.) No. I was just watching this. This was a strange twist for me, this character, because he had already trained me, you know. I was an actor trained in that which I wouldn't advocate -- sex, violence, and drugs -- but I was already burned out when I got to this.
And we used to bludgeon them all over the side of the mountain. I can't remember. Live ammunition, believe it or not, man. It's like basic training, you know. Four chicks, one grip, and a campfire, two steaks -- that was it for six weeks. [Raising his voice.] And by God, we're talking about Death Valley. You were in the movie, and you didn't walk out until you made it or you were dead. I'm not kidding you.
Ask Haji. She was a little distracting. She used to do makeup with only sneakers on. As bad enough as it was. I think the first time I met Russ I was going with a chick with very large melons, and she said she had an audition with this guy and wanted me to go along and make sure she didn't get raped. I think that's how I met Russ, as I recall. She didn't get the job. I wound up playing the sheriff in Cherry, Harry and Raquel, and then Super Vixens, and.... But anyway, it's been fun, and I've gotten a lot out of it.
I'm still working actively, thank God. And I've done OK by Russ and, you know, the career is still going. By the way, how would you guys like to see another one? It's called Up the Valley of the Beyond. Would you like that? [Audience response is "Yeah."] Well, he and Roger are trying to put something together. I hope they can bring it off. But anyway, thank you for coming and everything else. That's all.
Dare: I'd like to open this up with questions from the audience.
Audience Question: What ever happened to Cynthia Myers?
Meyer: Cynthia, I believe, lives near--what the hell is the name of that town? -- Palmdale? Yeah, Palmdale. Yeah. I've spoken to her a couple of times. She's married, I think, to an Air Force colonel and has a little boy. She and I were supposed to meet in Las Vegas, but she didn't show up for the trade show for video. Beautiful lady. Probably the most famous centerfold that Playboy ever published.
Read: Bullshit. [Raucous laughter breaks out.]
Meyer: I'm sorry, I forgot.
AQ: Did she ever do any movies after Beyond the Valley of the Dolls?
Meyer: I think she did a Western after Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. But I didn't see her. I haven't seen her in years, of course. I have a great admiration for her. Her contribution was exceptional to the film.
Dare: This is a question for Russ. I understand you did a lot of combat photography in World War II? Is it true that you actually photographed Patton coming onto the Normandy Beach? I heard you photographed Patton landing on Omaha Beach.
Meyer: Well, that wasn't any great achievement until the First Army had secured everything. And I can't come up with any kind of imposing speech here because I have two close confederates who were in the same one hundred sixth Signal Photo Company: Paul Fox is one, and the other is Jim Ryan I made a shot at Patton at the end of the war. Garson Kanin was making a picture called True Glory. It ended up winning the Academy Award for the best documentary, 1945.
I had the occasion to get this assignment to photograph Patton in a circumstance that might have resembled Normandy, whereas we were really out- side Munich. And I recall, the officer, who was a close friend of mine, was terrified of anyone with a rank that exceeded his. Of course Patton was a three- star general.
He said, "I Just haven't got the balls to go up and report to the General." He says, "You're going to have to."
I said, "Hell I'm just a staff sergeant. That's your job." He said, "I'm sorry. You're just going to have to do it. You'll have to do it."
So I went up. He was an imposing figure to present yourself to. And very accommodating. I had seen him in other circumstances when he was pretty raucous and straightforward."
But he said to me, "Officer, was that your officer?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Why didn't he report?" I said, "Aw well, he was a little nervous."
He said, "Well I would probably have made him a little more nervous."
Anyway, we made the shorts. But I must say when I was in his presence, I felt in the presence of greatness.
I had an opportunity once before to photograph something that had been brought about by Patton himself. It was through the Sixth Armored Division, toward the end of the war, and we were advancing about one hundred miles a day. I was with one of the armored regiments, and I was awakened in the middle of the night and asked to come to S2, which is Intelligence.
There was a colonel in charge of the regiment. And there was Patton by himself. He had discovered, or learned, that Hitler and Goebbels were going to be in Weimar, which was about one hundred kilometers from where we were, and he gave specific orders to the colonel.
He turned to me and said, "Sergeant, you'd better be very damn careful what you shoot. And make sure you do your job right."
Of course, my knees had turned to jelly by that time. We left and they routed everybody out of their sacks, and the armored regiment mounted up. He also mentioned the fact that there would be no stopping for any kind of casualties. All of a sudden, both myself and Slick, a guy from Alabama, here were were sitting on top of the greatest news scoop of the war. An there was no competition. Usually the GIs were always second-best to the press that were, you know, certified news cameramen before the war.
But anyway, we drove those hundred miles sandwiched in between a couple of tanks. We did get to Weimar. And Hitler indeed had been there, along with Goebbels They literally had beat the life out of the town.
But here we were sitting on something. I figured that I had the "news of the day job" just absolutely, actually iced if I could have gotten that footage. I was thinking of my future more than anything else. So of my times with Pat- ton, that's probably the most memorable of all. There were two shots in the picture Patton. They were made outside of Paris in a small town where Ernest Hemingway was hanging out and involved with the FFE, which was a French underground group.
One side item to this. I'd been working on an autobiographical film, along with a book, for a number of years. And I found out that Patton was not without heart. When he was in a town called Nutsford before the invasion, he carried on some sort of very poignant affair with a lady that owned a pub by the name of the Golden Stocks Inn. And I went there. Jim Ryan and I went there, and we photographed it.
And in the lobby every week a bowl of white carnations has been set up, delivered, and installed there. The woman's dead. But it bears a message that this was a gift on the part of General Patton, on behalf of this lady and so forth.
So I was glad to see another side to this tough old rascal that so many feel so very strongly about, pro and con.
Not a long question, but a long answer.
Dare: How did those experiences lead to your other film career?
Meyer: Well, I liked the war and didn't want it to end. I had found a home in the Army, you know; it's just that I was afraid I had to come back and get a job, you see. Well, it was not an easy transition.
I tried to get a job when I came to Hollywood, and there was no opportunity. But I was fortunate to get a job with an industrial filmmaker, and that was the greatest training ground of all. You go out with two guys and work for a year and do a film on the Southern Pacific Railroad, and that had more influence.
And then I got involved, thanks to a marvelous photojournalist by the name of Donald Arnitz, who's no longer among the living, and he approached me. He came up there, and I was dissatisfied with the income I was receiving.
And he said, "Why don't you get into this titty-boom game?"
And I said, "Well, Don, I don't know anything about that." You know. "I'm doing industrial movies on railroads and things of that nature."
And he said, "What you lack in ability, you make up in enthusiasm."
So it came that way. You would combine an industrial movie with so- called nudity or glamour or things of that nature. And that's why most of my films do resemble industrial movies. Better to see my product, my dear. There's always a sermon at the end or a sermon at the beginning. Pointing out the shortcomings and the frailties of the people that you've been dealing with. Borrowing heavily from your own personal existence. It works fine, you know.
I'm ready to do another one. Been on a book for three and a half years, and I think it's time. Roger's come up with a great script. And if God wills it, we'll make another Dolls. We don't dare use the title, though.
AQ: In John Waters' Shock Value, he talked about you already writing a sequel and that it had something to do with Elvis?
Meyer: Yes.
Ebert: This is a film called ... is it called Up the Valley of the Beyond, or ...?
Meyer: Yes. I sometimes confuse my titles.
Ebert: It is also called Beneath the Valley of the Ultra Vixen, Son of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, and my personal favorite, Into the Chasm of the Hyper Vixens. This is a screenplay that was originally part of a two-picture deal at AIP, and "Super Vixens" was the other part of that deal, and AIP bailed out.
And Russ made and released Super Vixens himself to enormous success. The movie involves characters that might make you think of Elvis and Howard Hughes. There's Dr. Pretorius down in his dungeon, trying to give people the secret of eternal life through injections of the pituitary glands from pregnant beavers. Lariyn Rueters, correspondent for Rolling Stone magazine, Moisha Sabra, the crack agent for Israeli Intelligence; Krakow, the loyal assistant; Elmo Trimblor, the strongest man in the world. I don't know who I left out.
I think my favorite scene comes when Marilyn Reuters is shackled above a twenty-two-foot high Waring blender. And Dr. Pretorius is about to pulverize her so that he can inject her into Elvis, while Elmo Trimblor and Moisha Sabra are trying to break their way through the stout oaken doors of his underground dungeon. And they're able to save her just in the nick of time because Dr. Pretorius' finger wavers for a second between blend and puree. Sorry, I didn't want to sound like I was pitching anything.
AQ: I'd just like to say that a lot of people might think your movies are sexist, but I think they've done a lot for the feminist movement. But I do have a question. Now, in a lot of your movies, lesbianism is a very beautiful thing, and the women are gorgeous, and there's music, and it's very beautiful. And very natural.
But why is it in Beyond the Valley of the Ultra Vixens the lead character really, really wants anal sex? He loves anal sex with women, but when he has the opportunity to have anal sex with a man, he runs in fear. And also like in Z Man and Lance Rock, why that couldn't have worked out either? What was wrong with that?
Someone: [Off mike.] Everybody's going to want to meet this girl.
Meyer: I don't know what the answers are.
Ebert: That movie is called Beneath the Valley of the Ultra Vixens. [More raucous laughter erupting.]
Meyer: A woman called me today from Holyoke, Massachusetts. And her name was Asplindin. That was her last name. And she wanted to know if she could order a copy of Beneath the Valley of the Ultra Vixens. She said, "It's the funniest film I've ever seen." And of course I agreed with her. The book- keeper sent her a copy. It's probably the most popular film I have.
It was interrupted. Roger and I were going to do a film on the Sex Pistols. I had shot the film beforehand, and then this opportunity came along for us to work on a picture in Britain, and Roger wrote a brilliant script called Anarchy in the U.K and then Who Killed Bambi? and so on. And unfortunately the man who was their manager didn't have sufficient funds to make the picture. I earned a lot of money and had a good time and one thing or another. But regrettably the film wasn't made. We shot some three days, and then they folded the whole thing.
Ebert: You know, I wish that they had made a documentary called The Making of Who Killed Bambi? If only so it could have had the scene in it where you silenced Johnny Rotten, who was protesting his wages of five pounds a week, a can of baked beans, and a six-pack of beer daily. And that was what Malcolm McClaren was paying him, that wasn't what you were paying him.
And I remember once you met with Johnny and Sid Vicious, and Johnny was getting a bit out of line, and you turned to him and said, "Listen you little whippersnapper, we fought the Battle of Britain for you and we'll fight it all over again, and this time you'll go into the drink." [Everyone cracks up.]
What amazed me is this completely silenced Johnny Rotten, who for the next several days of our relationship listened to everything Russ said and agreed with him and obeyed all of his orders. Johnny Rotten apparently didn't know that (a) America didn't fight the Battle of Britain and (b) that he was Irish. [More cracking up.]
Meyer: I regret I didn't answer all those points the young lady made. You were comparing the fact that probably presented th so-called for want of a better expression, the girl-girl sequence in "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls", which I thought was a very attractive and a very sexy presentation of two women that handled themselves exceedingly well and projected the point very well.
But by and large when I show a confrontation between the sexes, it's generally a contest. It's generally kind of -- it's more combat than something that's soft. It's meant to be outrageous and spoofy and bigger than life. Or at least a little bit bigger than life.
In the case of Lamar Shed, who was the young man who spurned the affections of Asa Lavender, who was both the dentist and a marriage counselor-- hardly equipped, I think, for either job. And it was never made clear as to who would do it to whom. But I thought to myself, always that Lamar Shed, meaning the young hero, was to be the recipient. Whereas Dr. Asa Lavender was the perpetrator.
I don't know if I am helping you at all there. Lamar had one problem with his affliction, and it was summed up beautifully by a lady that I so much admired--June Mack--regrettably she's gone. And she had the name of Junk Yard Sal. And in one of her lines to Lamar, she said after she had tried to win him over to make changes [in his] errant ways, to make love to her in a conventional manner, she said: "One thing's wrong with you, Lamar, you can't look a good fuck straight in the eye."
AQ: If this movie we just saw took out all the references to the times as they were then--you know, late sixties, early seventies--but left the sex and violence intact, do you think a major studio would release it today?
Meyer: Well, most of them are horrors to begin with. Make a buck, then release it. This film was very successful.
This is the twentieth anniversary of the picture. Some people think the film was not a success. But I'm proud to say that owning ten percent of it -- I got my check last month. Twenty years. Not too many films pay off that long. And I don't want to put it necessarily on a monetary level. But, yes, I have every reason to believe that the film would be just as successful today as it was then. Fox was very much in need of a monetary transfusion. They were shocked by the fact that it did get an X rating. One thing -- I pleaded the case, but it was unsuccessful. I recall the puzzlement on the part of Richard Zanuck and Brown and so on and so forth, and the distribution arm when they saw a rough cut of it.
And no one really understood it like Roger and I did, and Zanuck said to the head of distribution, Peter Meyers, he said, "What do you think we ought to do?"
And Peter said, "Well I think what we have to do is take this and put it in fifty theaters and hope to make some money with it because we're very much in need of a cash flow."
I had to rise to the fore then. Because this was my baby. I had worked with it, you know, for a long, long time. As with any of the films I've made, it's always a very personal issue. Well, any filmmaker of any kind of content would feel much the same way as I did.
And I got up, of course, and I offended the distribution arm, and I said, "No, this is not the way to do it. What you have to do is get one theater on the boulevard and let the film build. There'll be a lot of talk about it. Get some good reviews, hopefully, even bad ones -- they work just as well sometimes as the good ones."
So Zanuck said, "Well, that sounds like a good idea." And he turned to Peter and said, "Is there anything available on the boulevard?"
Peter jumped up and said, "No, there's nothing available."
Zanuck had his brightest hour. He stood up and says, "Go out and buy one, Peter."
So we ended up at the Pantages, and the rest is history.
The film -- it still plays to this day. I had the good fortune of going to Moscow and showing it together with Super Vixens and Mudhoney! Now, Mudhoney! I was conned into taking, which is looked upon by some people as an interesting Gothic presentation on my part.
The Russians didn't go for it. It was just too damn depressing, but they loved Super Vixens, which starred Charles Napier as Harry Sedge, and they loved Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. And instead of one screening, we had six screening with each of these. We even sent out into the neighborhood theaters and showed the films. Always packed.
And I had a marvelous lady who was one of those United Nations types of translators, and she was able to take down every part and translate it. And the audience just hung in there with that. And if she got a little bit behind, they'd start clapping.
Yeah, my reaction to the Soviets changed enormously after having visited the country and noticing what people saw in something I had produced many, many years before, in each instance, and embraced it so warmly. And enjoyed it just like us folk do.
Dare: May I ask what the critics of the time thought of this movie?
Ebert: I want to just add something to what was just said, if I could. If you look in the official corporate history of Twentieth Century-Fox, published by the occasion of its corporate anniversary, you won't find any mention of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. If you read David Brown's recent autobiography, he lumps it in with Myra Breckinridge, another picture made at the same time, and dismisses them in less than a paragraph as flops.
The movie grossed in 1970 $47 million. And it cost $900,000 to make. A large percentage of that was paid to Jacqueline Susann for two screenplays that were not used. So by any terms imaginable, it was an enormous hit. It is still on the Variety list of all-time top-grossing films.
What has annoyed me over the years is the willingness of various managements at the studio to pretend that they never made this movie. They have not--despite the fact that it has been constantly in the repertory for twenty years, that it plays at the Electric Cinema on Portobello Road in London every Saturday at midnight--that's where the Sex Pistols saw it more than a decade ago-- despite the fact that it plays in Paris, and in Germany, and all over the world.
They won't make new prints. They don't like to keep it in stock in 35 mm. They released it briefly in video and then withdrew it. And to this day it is not available in any video format. Although I'm happy to say that, apparently, the Criterion Collection, which is the most prestigious organization connected with Home Video, is going to bring out a letterbox version of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls [interrupted with applause], but Fox has not supported it.
And I submit to you that they didn't make any other movies in 1970 that are as widely seen today, and that would include Patton, M*A*S*H, and Butch Cassidy, their other releases that year.
It sounds a bit like I'm blowing my own horn, but I'm quite a soloist, actually.
AQ: Did Tom Wolfe ever write a screenplay for you?
Meyer: No, that's a guy that I knew in the army. His name was Thomas J. McGowan. And I warned him, I said, "You should not use that pseudonym." It was in "Cherry, Harry and Raquel" that Charles Napier first starred and the first opportunity I had to work with the gentleman. So, gratefully, Thomas Wolfe never said a thing. Or Tom Wolfe. But it's on the credits there.
AQ: The other question I have is for Mr. Ebert. One of the things that seem that you really pride yourself on, at least on your show many times during arguments, is your Pulitzer Prize. I read an interview with Mr. Meyer some time ago in a publication where you said, "I really love Roger because he's really into tits."
Do you think your affiliation with Mr. Meyer in any way endangered a second Pulitzer Prize?
Meyer: I've been accused of ruining a lot of careers... [drowned out by Roger.]
Ebert: Yeah I won the Pulitzer Prize after my association with Russ Meyer. I won it in 1975. I don't really bring it up on the show very frequently; I don't feel that's necessary since I'm sure it's constantly in Gene's mind.
But I'll answer your question fairly seriously because...[pregnant pause] ...there might be the feeling that it would be disreputable to be associated with Russ Meyer. In other words I wrote this movie, but then I went on to win the Pulitzer Price and get a national television show and publish books, and so now I might want to just dismiss this as a youthful indiscretion that, ah, you know, the hotheaded adolescent that I was at that time, and I know better and am wiser now...
One thing that I have learned from Russ Meyer, and I try to practice in my own life, is a lot of people have their lives divided up into compartments. And this compartment is open for some people, and this compartment is open for other people. And you can know this, but you can't know that. And if I'm with this group, I'll say one thing, and if I'm with this group, I'll say something else, so that I can be all things to all people.
Russ Meyer--I think everybody at this table will agree with this--Russ Meyer's life is all inside one big embracing compartment. Everybody who knows Russ Meyer knows everybody else who knows Russ Meyer.
I can remember going out to dinner with Russ and his pulchritudinous lady of the moment and also with an old army sergeant who was on the edge of senility, probably, and this was his one night a week to get some barbecued ribs and the chance to get a look at pretty girl. Russ was loyal to this man because this man had been loyal to him during the war.
Russ has stood by his family. He has stood by his friends. He has flown across the country to visit people in need of him. He came halfway across America in order to attend my mother's funeral and flew back the same day because he wanted to be there. And Dolly spoke about him being at her bedside.
Russ doesn't have the girls snuck off in the bedroom and the Army buddies in the living room and the critics up in the library and the producers down waiting for him at the bank. Everybody is always part of the same thing.
There is no hypocrisy in Russ's behavior. He will tell you exactly what he thinks. He will not try to put a different light on his behavior on one occasion than he will on another occasion. He is one of the most honest people I ever met.
And there might be a tendency or a temptation for me to think that it might not be wise at this point in my career to be on a panel like this or to be associated with Russ. I don't want to do that. Just because I've had success in other areas doesn't mean that I haven't certainly enjoyed and learned from the work that I've done with Russ.
AQ: There was something that I heard about from a friend of mine called The Seven Minutes that Edy starred in and was written by John O'Hara. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about it.
Meyer: Irving Wallace wrote the book Seven Minutes, and it was a second film I made at Fox, and it was my swan song there. But I accompanied Zanuck and Brown over to Warner Brothers with my associate, Jim Ryan, who's here taking pictures. I think they did an interesting kind of horror film, and this was called Choice Cuts. Regrettably, there was another vice-president in charge of production, who had done Klute, and you know, Zanuck had left, and they paint your name out in the parking space, and so on.
Seven Minutes was a film I shouldn't have taken, but I had such a fat head. I figured that after the great success I had experienced with Dolls that I should ignore the projects that I was better suited to and to Wallace's film.
Some people think of it a lot more than I do, as to its content and ability to perform. But it was not a success. Of course a lot of it, I think, had to do with the fact that the studio was pretty well through at that time. Certainly the regime that was in control Zanuck had been kicked out. Elmo Williams was put in as president.
But, regrettably, even though the film was not successful, it does play a lot on television, but severely hacked, unfortunately.
AQ: Tell us about some of the people you've worked with.
Meyer: I had an opportunity to cast some really interesting actors. Berry Kroeger. I don't know if you would recognize that name. He played a lot of Communist parts and spies, and he came off as being gay. And I had him play the part of a critic on the stand.
And I read the part to him and he said to me, "What am I? The Fox fag?"
And that made an impression on me. But he did a beautiful job. And Ansen. What is his name? David Ansen? Who is now the critic for what, Newsweek? And he made reference to some of the characterizations, one of which got me a condemned rating the way I portrayed a Catholic bishop. And he made reference to Berry Kroeger's performance. And how did he put it? He said he would have stopped traffic in a gay bar on a Saturday night. And that was a great tribute to the guy's acting. But there were a number of other people. I had John Carradine, as Edy pointed out, wonderful people. Wayne Maunder, who had been Kit Carson. We had Yvonne De Carlo. And, oh, yeah, Tom Selleck. Yeah, he had his first role. He never makes reference to it. It's amazing how sometimes I'm a little irritated about the fact that he should have made reference every now and then, but then...
Ebert: [Something inaudible.] But even the cameramen I can say, one who I admire enormously, Fred J. Koenekamp, who did the camera work on Dolls and was a great contributor. I was saddened when he was interviewed recently in the "International Photographer". I'm a member of that union as well as the Directors Guild and Writers Guild, in which he listed all of the films that he had done, and one film was pointedly absent. And that was Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.
Williams: That was because of his wife. His wife was very jealous of all the good-looking women.
Meyer: Well, that might have been true, but he had developed migraine headaches, as I understand it, and he was replaced by another cameraman. It hurt me, naturally, because I'm very proud of the film. And I can say to him in spite of the fact that he ignored it, his contribution was huge.
And he told me the last day of shooting, we were running down the beach, it was when we were done, and Martin Boorman was in the surf--there's a man I pay homage to.
He said, "Would you ever hire me again if you had another film?"
I said, "You bet your life." And he says, "Well, I am very honored to have you tell me that."
But anyway, this is the business. One guy can be a certain character on a given day, and six months later, he's totally different, regrettably. But his contribution cannot be ignored. When you see his name up on the screen and the work he did, particularly with that Sorcerer's Apprentice sequence. The lighting was marvelous. We did something like eighty setups in one day there. It was a nice moment that we experienced.
Dare: Roger, considering the fact that this film has an X rating, how do you differentiate Russ Meyer's films from pornography?
Ebert: Russ doesn't ordinarily direct sex scenes in a way intended to arouse anyone. In my way of thinking, or in terms of the way I look at his films, the lesbian sequence in Vixens is the only erotic scene in all of Russ Meyer's work.
The point that people have missed is that Russ is a comic director operating in a pop art context. He will almost invariably cut away from a sex scene in such a way as to frustrate the anticipations of what he cheerfully refers to as the "one-arm viewers."
He likes to cut away to the demolition derbies, oil wells, various other aspects from his industrial filmmaking past. He also frequently seems to be very reluctant to locate a sex scene in bed. He'd much rather have it in a treetop, or in a barnyard, or in the back seat of a Rolls-Royce.
When he does shoot it in bed he invariably likes to use an angle that has not been exploited by other directors: from directly beneath the action, shooting up through naked steel bed springs.
The notion that one could be comfortable having sex in this position is one that I have never wanted to put into practice by trying out for myself. I don't think it's possible. I think you need a mattress at the very least.
And then he will cut away to details. He is the master of the insert shot. The little wheel at the bottom of the bed jerking back and forth. Or an exterior and the whole house is shaking. It's a comic attitude toward sex that he's dealing with here.
When he talks about sex as being about confrontations, I think that is the way that sex is presented. It's an Olympic event in his films in which there are hardly any winners. So that because they, to me at least, they're not erotic, and they're not arousing, they don't qualify as pornographic, if I understand the Supreme Court's definition. You see, now, I have never discussed this with Russ, or at least if I have, I don't know if he's agreed with me or not. I've always felt that the role that sex plays in Russ Meyer's cinema is that it allows him to make his own films and make money doing it.
He can make any film he wants. He has financed most of his own films and released them himself - produced them, directed them himself, written most of them himself, photographed some of them himself, edited some of them himself. He can do physically every job that you need to do on a film, from photographic to sound to editing to casting to direction to promotion to advertising. There are certain kinds of film that you can make at a certain budget level, and he has won that freedom by using sex as his nominal subject. Every beginning filmmaker at UCLA knows that you can get a horror film made that doesn't need to have stars in it. And a sex film doesn't need to have stars in it because the subject matter is the star.
And to me that's the way Russ uses sex. Not as his obsession, not as his interest, but as the ticket that he buys in order to be able to enjoy the rest of the ride. But I don't know if Russ would agree with that or not.
Meyer: Well, as I said before, they were confrontations. You know, it's qualifying for the pentathlon. Six prodigious events. One critic once said that when my characters experience an orgasm, their eyes cross. It's like the mating of the wildebeest and the water buffalo, enormously noisy.
The women, of course, are the aggressors. I like that idea, yeah. They're the ones in charge. They're the smart ones. That's why I rarely have any difficulty with any kind of feminist organization. They realize that the men are all klutzy, you know, the willing tools of the women.
I hung in there, and I was influenced very strongly by Al Capp, if you will recall, and any of his work, Daisy Mae, they were the smart people. The men, they were the willing klutzes that conformed to their wishes. I followed that pattern, and I think it will continue as I make films, that the women will always be the superior personage in any one of my films.
Before we leave, can I say something, once? I am sitting here at this table with a number of people that I admire so much that contributed so much to this picture. Without any one of their participation in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, the picture would be of far less value. I mean, Mike Blodgett - what an incredible job you did in that film. I mean, there couldn't have been anybody else that could have played that role nearly as well as you did. Without a doubt. Physically, mentally. His humor, his satire.
And of course, Edy Williams, probably one of the most interesting sequences I ever shot. The one with the Rolls-Royce, because here was the industrial film. Here I had the motor car, and the emblems and the hubcaps, the beautiful girl, the willing tool at her disposal.
Now here's Charles Napier. Where is Charles? [He responds, "Right here."] Charles and I have done some real struggles together. And without his help I wouldn't have been able to dredge myself up after having made a couple of losers: Blacksnake! and The Seven Minutes. We made a film together, and without his aid it wouldn't have worked. I must work again with him, and we plan to do so. It won't be the Elvis Presley. It'll be more like [turning to Roger] what were we thinking now in terms of country and Western, you know?
All right, now Dolly. [She responds, "Yes darling."] Do you remember I said something to you in one of the reviews? I've completed a book and I've got a tremendous wealth of good and bad reviews, and I choose to use them all. One person made reference to you with your "wide-eyed look" in the beginning when you said "groovy," which always gets a laugh, and someone said she resembled a "Mouseketeer at a gang bang."
There was only one person who could have played superwoman. This man [John LaZar] right here. There was no one else that we had, no one else that we found, you know? This man, I mean he had the ability to play it so straight. And he had this great background, this Shakespearean background. there's no question about it. I've often felt a little unhappy by the fact that I may have ruined his career. But you see, the man has not decomposed. He looks as good today, and this is twenty years later. What is his secret? And I'd damn well use him again. I'll tell you I admire you so very, very much.
Now, this man here, over here, who played Harrison. Roger's managing editor made reference to - and I noticed, I picked up on the audience when the girl said, Cynthia said, "What you need is a downer." I mean, this guy was so down, and you played it so expertly, and she was ignoring him by the fact. She even told me, actually told me I was a lousy lay. I made an ass of myself. And she said, "What you need is a downer." And this guy couldn't be any further down. I think he did a marvelous job. Marvelous job and such a pleasure to see. I was concerned that you weren't coming. And your secretary called, and then I put her in touch with Mike [Blodgett], and there's a man now. I have to say thank you so much. He said something to me. He said, "You know, what do I do? I've never done this sort of thing." I said, "Just get on the phone and call all the people you can possibly call and make sure they got down there." And I think you delivered everybody [He responds, "Yeah."] except Duncan McCloud who, regrettably I tried to reach him. Yeah. Yeah. And I think everybody else we tried.
I regret Jack Harmon, isn't here, who did the marvelous montage. I had an opportunity to work off the lot.
And a great sound man who did the mixing, Don Minkler, who regrettably is gone. I toast him.
Henry Roland who played Martin Boorman in so many of my films - a dear, lovable man.
Yes, yes, I owe so much to everybody here. Very much so.
And then, Roger. What can I say? I mean he's so honest, this man. He gets on a show and they grill him and they say, "Well, what about this guy Meyer, this pornographer? What do you say about working on his films?"
And he comes right straight on, head-on, says it like it is. He's not kissing anybody's ass. He's just simply saying he's a friend of mine, I like his films, I was pleased to have been part of them, and hopefully again. There's the true measure of the guy.
Now, he said I went to see him when his mother passed away. He sat with me three days when my mother died. He gave up his time to be with me. Now, there's a kind of friend you can't ever forget. He's a dear friend, and I thank you so much.Much thanks to Dan Ruderman for helping with the transcription.
Emulsional Problems
