Interview
Maverick Ferrara speaks his mind, and then some
By Scott Foundas
Film Editor
"You can hang
for a second, right? Hello? Hello? Hello? Scott? This is Abel."
So says the voice on the
other end of the phone, and so begins my conversation with Abel Ferrara,
the maverick (and, some would add, infamous) independent filmmaker who has
been translating his stark visions of contemporary urban life into tough,
exciting and uncompromising feature films for almost 20 years. His latest
film is "The Funeral," and in addition to being one of Ferrara's best
films, it marks the breaking of new artistic ground for the filmmaker. "The
Funeral," you see, is a period piece set in 1930s New York, detailing the
events surrounding the death of one of three brothers in a powerful Mafia
family. After Ferrara kept me on hold for another few minutes, I asked him
about the challenges of working in this new genre.
"I actually shied away from
doing the film for two or three years because it was a period piece,"
Ferrara said. "I have a real problem with period pieces. I find them more
or less D.O.A., you know what I'm saying? I have a hard time with them; I
find them non-vital. I did not want to do this until I could find a way, in
my mind, to overcome the period. People say, `Well, can't you shoot this
modern?' How do you shoot it modern with a body in the house? When was the
last time you went to a funeral where the body was in the house?"
Eventually, though, Ferrara
decided that he could overcome these obstacles.
"I had a vision--no, that's
too grandiose a word," Ferrara said. "I just got together with my designer
and my cinematographer, and we discussed how we were going to go about
doing it. Basically, what we were attempting to do was make the audience
forget halfway through the film that they were watching a period film, you
follow me? We stayed away from the hats--if you watch this film, no one's
wearing a hat. There are no cars--we eliminate the cars. The clothes,
everything we did, even though it was all `30s, ... it was also something
that could be worn in 1996."
The phone clicks and
Ferrara is no longer on the other end. I wait patiently and a few moments
later he calls back.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You
know what we did, we took call waiting off, otherwise we'll never be able
to talk. You know if you dial *70, you know that little trick? If you have
call waiting, you know what call waiting is? If you dial *70 and then dial,
like now, we won't get any calls. That's a great thing to know. This way,
if we want to have a conversation uninterrupted, just dial *70 and then
dial a number. Anyway, so we were talking about getting around the
period."
Although Ferrara wasn't
born until 1951, I wondered if perhaps "The Funeral" (written by longtime
Ferrara collaborator Nicholas St. John) wasn't partially inspired by
stories in the filmmakers' own families.
"Absolutely. They're like
folk tales from Mt. Vernon. Nicky comes from that town, which is like the
first stop above the Bronx. It's on the northern border of the Bronx, and
these are basically folk tales from his family."
Ferrara and St. John began
making Super-8 films as teenagers in Peekskill, N.Y., and this union of
writer and director has continued on nearly all of Ferrara's features.
"I met him when I was 15
years old," Ferrara said. "I was from the Bronx and he was from that town
that the film is set in. We were like musicians; we had a rock `n' roll
band. Nicky was a writer; Nicky was a very creative guy and he kind of
showed us the way and taught us that we could be creative. It wasn't
unmanly to write poetry, or to ... you know what I'm saying? He was kind of
our artistic leader--a really extraordinary guy."
Soon, though, Ferrara and
St. John progressed into making features, beginning with "The Driller
Killer" in 1979, Ferrara's debut film in which he also plays the title
character under a pseudonym.
"It was a natural
progression, you know what I mean? We made things, we made shorts, we
started making longer pieces, and then we kind of broke through with `The
Driller Killer.' We're constantly looking for a way into the business. Back
at that period, when something like `The Texas Chainsaw Massacre'
took--whatever it did--$60,000, $75,000 or $150,000 and grossed $30
million, then you could go out to people and say, `Hey, I could do that. We
gotta make `The Driller Killer.'"
In the tradition of John
Cassavetes, Ferrara is one of the few completely independent filmmakers in
America, and his films border on a kind of radical, underground moviemaking
that would hardly be tolerated by major studios. Moviegoers are all the
more fortunate, as "Bad Lieutenant" is a masterpiece of `90s angst and
moral confusion as few would have dared to attempt, while even Ferrara at
his worst (the same year's "Dangerous Game") is never short of
interesting.
"We have no choice. We just
have to make our own films, and if you're going to make films, you have to
have the freedom to do what you want to do. It's about final cut, but it's
about everything. It's about choosing the people that are going to work on
the film. It's about deciding what camera you're going to use. It's every
decision right down the way, and if you don't have control of that, then
you have control of nothing.
"You've got to have it, or
else you've got nothing. I mean, (some of) our films have been ruined.
Bruce Curtis destroyed `Fear City.' `Cat Chaser' was destroyed by
(producers) Bill Panzer and Peter Davis. We were in the middle of a rough
cut of that film that Elmore Leonard said was the best film he's ever seen
based on his work, and I'm not saying that it was a great film, but
considering what was released, ... I mean that abomination."
Despite these
confrontations with even independent film producers, Ferrara has from time
to time found himself found himself working under the auspices of a major
Hollywood studio, most recently in 1994 when he helmed the second
(official) remake of Don Siegel's "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" for
Warner Bros. It is a lively if overly familiar reworking of one of the most
imitated of sci-fi stories, but it is distinguished by Ferrara's
invigorating style. I asked the director how he came into what was for him
a most unusual project.
"I like `Body Snatchers' a
lot. We were asked to do that film. Warner Bros. knows who we are, you know
what I mean? They had the project. Listen, I don't know why they wanted to
make a third version of that--of Jack Finney's novella--but it was a great
piece of original material; it was a very beautiful film. The original
`Body Snatchers'... you know, Siegel was a brilliant director, you know
what I mean? I don't know, I love that film.
"So ... all the elements
were there. There was $17 million, we got to shoot in CinemaScope--I mean
true CinemaScope, you know what I mean?"
Ferrara works fast though,
usually in about a month or less, and moves from one project to the next
with great speed--an option that isn't always so available in the studio
system, especially when helming a project of the enormity of "Body
Snatchers."
"I like working fast, but a
film like `Body Snatchers'--when you're shooting scope, when you're
shooting with thousands of extras, when you're shooting all those kind of
special effects--you just cannot shoot a film like that in 23 days. Just
the size of it, just to get 500 f---ing people out in front of the
camera, you know what I mean? It was a different type of film, but I knew
what it was going into it, so I went into it with open eyes. Sure, I wish I
had the final cut, but I'm proud of that film. That's all I want to say
about it.
"Somebody said today in the
L.A. Times that it was a complete and utter disaster. I resent that.
That's not a complete and utter disaster. The f---ing film was in
competition at Cannes, so come on. The fact that Warner Bros. chose not to
distribute it--that's their problem. But that film exists, the print of
that film exists, and it was released in Europe. Listen, I'm not going to
sit here and defend my work, but I'm proud of that film."
"Body Snatchers" came on
the heels of "Bad Lieutenant," which remains, I think, Ferrara's best film.
It is ironic too that the film created such enormous controversy at the
time, as it is spiritual and morally redeeming to an extent that few films,
American or otherwise, dare to approach anymore. It is bolstered by an
unforgettable lead performance from the great Harvey Keitel, and I asked
Ferrara about the film and the controversy now that it's all in the
past.
"Whenever you get a
performance like what Harvey gives--whenever you start dealing with Christ
in the three dimensions--you're going to get people's backs up, you know
what I'm saying? The rape of a nun is a nightmare to begin with. The rape
of any woman is like a nightmare. I have two daughters, so the thought of
that gives me chills up my spine."
"Bad Lieutenant" was also
the first Ferrara movie to be released theatrically with an NC-17 rating,
although the filmmaker has been battling the motion picture ratings board
for most of his career.
"The ratings system is a
joke. I mean, censorship on any level is ridiculous. We're not talking
about children, we're talking about people seeing films. You tell me the
difference between an R and an NC-17. What does `R' mean--restricted, under
17 not allowed without a parent? OK, fine. My films are for adults. They're
not for children, and children shouldn't be allowed (to see) my films. But
when does a child become an adult? You tell me--15, 13, 17, 19, who knows?
So let's pick an age--17, fine. I go along with that. But you tell me the
difference between an R and an NC-17. That's the difference between
controlling the marketplace, and the studios are trying to control the
marketplace with the help of what's-his-name."
Valenti.
"What?"
Jack Valenti.
"Yeah, you know what I
mean? It's an overt, naked attempt to control. So, fine. No one gets it,
it's obvious to people who know, so who cares? That's what I love about the
film business. Nobody sues each other. You're not allowed to sue anybody. I
love that. In other words, it's like honor among thieves. This is where
it's at. Fine. I know what the f---ing ratings board is and the guys
on the inside know. You don't like it, go home to your mother. This is
hardball baby, and if you don't want to f---ing play it, quit. My days of
f---ing sitting there and rebelling against that are over. Let somebody
else do that, you know what I mean?"
It's comic in a way.
"It's a joke. Censorship is
a joke. Especially censorship like that--a f---ing group of Beverly
Hills housewives watching my movie and passing judgment. I'd love to
f---ing videotape some of these sessions, where like 12 people f---ing sit
there and tell me how `Dangerous Game'... One of these guys stands up and
says how he wants to protect the f---ing country. He says, `I just flew
from the East Coast to the West Coast and looked down across the whole
country I'm trying to protect them from the visions of someone in this
room,' meaning me. I'm going, `Wow, this man is now the self-appointed
protectorate of the country against my vision.' I mean, you know, that's a
pretty good joke, man. I don't usually laugh that easy or that hard. So,
fine. But it's not so fine when it starts restricting the capital that I
need to make my movies.
"My new film's going to be
rated X--never mind NC-17. `Blackout''s going to be XXX--hard-core
pornography."
"The Funeral" is now playing exclusively at Laemmle's Monica in Santa
Monica, the Beverly Center Cineplex in Beverly Hills and the Cineplex Odeon
Century Plaza Cinemas in Century City.
Copyright 1996 by the Daily Trojan. All rights reserved.
This article was published in Vol. 129, No. 56 (Tuesday, November 18, 1996), beginning on page 8 and ending on page 9.