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.