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Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

We want the finest wines available to humanity: Withnail, once more

Time Out London returns to the well for more Bruce Robinson on one of the great singularities of UK cinema, Withnail and I as it ripens into its twentieth anniversary: “The night before we were due to start shooting, I’m sitting in the bar of this hotel in Penrith with a bottle of vodka. It’s three in the morning, and I’m smoking myself silly, drinking myself daft to try and get arseholed so I could get to sleep—anything to escape or somehow navigate this fear that was coursing through my veins. And I couldn’t get drunk. I couldn’t get anything out of it and [co-producer] David Wimbury… Bruce_12344robinson.jpgcame in, sat down with me in this empty bar and had a couple of glasses and said something to me that is so true about the film industry. He said, ‘The thing is Bruce, it doesn’t matter how good your script is, how good your actors are, how good you may be as a director, if you haven’t got luck, you’re fucked.’ The thing about Withnail is that we had luck. That’s why the film worked. Can you imagine how obscenely horrible a film like Withnail would be, if it didn’t work? Goddamn… I have sometimes sat in pubs when I used to booze and hear these old bastards talking dialogue as good as anything by Pinter – and I love Pinter – or Beckett. It is absolutely phenomenal and so funny, but if you told them it was funny or copied it down and gave it back to them and said, ‘Do it again’, they couldn’t do it. The moment they knew it was funny they would fuck it up.” At a New York preview, he recalls, “We put the film up and they start laughing. Not immediately, but ten minutes in… There were two girls in front of me. By about 30 minutes in, they were standing up to laugh, hanging over the seats in front of them. I thought they were going to choke to death and it was the best noise I’ve ever heard. I’m staring at their arses as they’re rolling on these seats and the whole theatre was screeching, so that was one of the best experiences of my life, because that’s what we were all about. [More teling tales of fuck-ups at the link; Kevin Jackson wrote a BFI Modern Classic on the film; promoting the as-told-to “Smoking in Bed,” Robinson told Rachel Ong “What I think it does do is touch that moment that we’ve all had where we’re all broke, all starving, all aspiring and all knowing that it might not work in our lives. For one of them it does not definitely and for one of them it might. I really think audiences love good dialogue. Brilliant photography costs a lot more than crap photography, whereas good dialogue doesn’t cost any more than bad dialogue, so even a cheap film can have great dialogue in it.”]

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It shows how out of it I was in trying to be in it, acknowledging that I was out of it to myself, and then thinking, “Okay, how do I stop being out of it? Well, I get some legitimate illogical narrative ideas” — some novel, you know?

So I decided on three writers that I might be able to option their material and get some producer, or myself as producer, and then get some writer to do a screenplay on it, and maybe make a movie.

And so the three projects were “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,” “Naked Lunch” and a collection of Bukowski. Which, in 1975, forget it — I mean, that was nuts. Hollywood would not touch any of that, but I was looking for something commercial, and I thought that all of these things were coming.

There would be no Blade Runner if there was no Ray Bradbury. I couldn’t find Philip K. Dick. His agent didn’t even know where he was. And so I gave up.

I was walking down the street and I ran into Bradbury — he directed a play that I was going to do as an actor, so we know each other, but he yelled “hi” — and I’d forgot who he was.

So at my girlfriend Barbara Hershey’s urging — I was with her at that moment — she said, “Talk to him! That guy really wants to talk to you,” and I said “No, fuck him,” and keep walking.

But then I did, and then I realized who it was, and I thought, “Wait, he’s in that realm, maybe he knows Philip K. Dick.” I said, “You know a guy named—” “Yeah, sure — you want his phone number?”

My friend paid my rent for a year while I wrote, because it turned out we couldn’t get a writer. My friends kept on me about, well, if you can’t get a writer, then you write.”
~ Hampton Fancher

“That was the most disappointing thing to me in how this thing was played. Is that I’m on the phone with you now, after all that’s been said, and the fundamental distinction between what James is dealing with in these other cases is not actually brought to the fore. The fundamental difference is that James Franco didn’t seek to use his position to have sex with anyone. There’s not a case of that. He wasn’t using his position or status to try to solicit a sexual favor from anyone. If he had — if that were what the accusation involved — the show would not have gone on. We would have folded up shop and we would have not completed the show. Because then it would have been the same as Harvey Weinstein, or Les Moonves, or any of these cases that are fundamental to this new paradigm. Did you not notice that? Why did you not notice that? Is that not something notable to say, journalistically? Because nobody could find the voice to say it. I’m not just being rhetorical. Why is it that you and the other critics, none of you could find the voice to say, “You know, it’s not this, it’s that”? Because — let me go on and speak further to this. If you go back to the L.A. Times piece, that’s what it lacked. That’s what they were not able to deliver. The one example in the five that involved an issue of a sexual act was between James and a woman he was dating, who he was not working with. There was no professional dynamic in any capacity.

~ David Simon