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It wasn't the citrus colored plastic Uzi bought in Chinatown and spray painted black. Neither was it the cute actress who did voice over work and children's theater. It might have been the NYPD officers stationed mere yards away guarding the smoldering ruins of the Fulton Fish Market. It also might of been the image of Mayor Rudy Guiliani about to chow down on a cheese sandwich before looking out his window at City Hall. No it was my friend Dave wielding a luger on the Brooklyn Bridge walkway one sunny April afternoon in 1997.
A distributor in L.A. offered a few thousand bucks for a shot-on-video action comedy feature to be sold onto the Asian home video market. "Eureka!," I exclaimed. "I'll be the toast of Taiwan!" Inspired by the feeblest of hopes I wrangled together a shoot and over the next six months somehow came up with DEATH - ITALIAN STYLE! With no permission we waltzed into the lobby of the Soho Grand Hotel and shot a scene where a sexy femme fatale seduces an unwitting cad while security guards winked in approval. Being in love with all things Italian I included a scene where the main character Aldo is confronted and berated in public by his tall blonde Italian fiancé.
These brief spastic moments of nerve and imagination form a bond between people. Was I wrong to be smitten with the Uzi Girl in her tight cat suit, Dorothy Hamill hair style and disarming southern charm? Did we take advantage of our dear friend Kevin as he reprised his role as the double crossing character named The Cripple? In this production The Cripple is brutally dispatched on an East 9th Street rooftop with a hacksaw. Later Aldo wraps up the severed body parts while humming a tarantula melody. These would be memories to last a life time or at least a long weekend of binge drinking.
In exchange for moving his office furniture from one nondescript part of New Jersey to another, a video editor provided all of the post-production. He was a former British Army officer infatuated with Princess Anne. Some people's lives are worthy of being chronicled as a book. Mine was veering more toward Commedia del Arte. "I've lived in New York City for years," said the Uzi Girl. "And I still have not been to the beach". Fantasy scenarios danced in my head of the of two of us strolling along the sand of Sea Bright, New Jersey and basking in the semi-coherent praise of my drunken cohorts at Donovan's Reef. But a no-budget production is not held together with money, but lunatic will. I rationalized how impressed she would be when given the finished feature on a VHS tape. When she said her name was misspelled in the credits I suddenly envied Prometheus chained to a rock with vultures circling around. Life is about not getting what you want. There was no distribution deal. No accolades on the streets of Taipei. A friend was impressed with the desperate effort and gave me a small book of Florentine epithets. I quickly turned to the page for "fool".
David Martin Copyright 2003