Does that blood splatter look real? That is what I was thinking as I stared at some fruit punch dripping from a tree, running through the crevices in the bark so that the tree looked like it had a dark red mesh around it. After looking intently at the “blood” for another minute, I turned around to my best friend, Zach.
“I don’t think that the blood would hit the tree like that. We should try the shot again.”
The other four people on set gave audible groans, like a barbershop quartet of disappointment. This was the entire crew behind the Nightingale Pictures production of Beasts, a horror movie that is equal parts stupid and pretentious.
I had written the script in a day after spending the previous night hopped up on Code Red Mountain Dew and watching Pulp Fiction and Night of the Living Dead. The result of my mind mixing these two very different films was supposed to be a scary movie filled with clever and insightful dialogue. The script failed on both of these goals. We can all be thankful, however, that I had fallen asleep after Night of the Living Dead instead of watching American Pie.
I know now just how bad the script for Beasts was. At the time, however, it was the most genius thing I had ever created. I beamed with pride just looking at it. That was why I had dragged my friends into making a movie out of it. In the production, I was the director/writer/co-star/editor.
“Nolan, the blood looks fine,” Zach said with a kind of annoyance at my persistence in wanting to retake the shot. Zach was tall and unnaturally skinny, even though the kid ate mountains of food. In fact, if he ever went missing, the picture they would probably use on the milk cartons would just be a stick figure. In the production, Zach was the lead actor/special effects supervisor/craft services.
“No, I’m telling you guys, we’re just making a large splotch of blood on the tree right now. If Griffin’s throat actually got torn out by a zombie, the blood would stream across the tree.”
“Goddamnit, Nolan. You’re not Stanley Kubrick, you’re a freshman. Let the shot be good enough and we can move on with this shit. This is the last shot we need to do,” called Griffin from the ground. He was lying there, hamburger meat strategically placed on him to look as if he had been torn open by a zombie. Griffin was the exact opposite of Zach, in that he was short and tubby. In addition to the role in the film Griffin had of “Guy who gets slaughtered by a zombie”, Griffin was also the financial backer for the film. So, I suspected that his wanting to move on had as much to do with saving the fruit punch he had bought as it did with his impatience.
As the three-way argument ensued, Nick and Dylan, the other two members of the production watched. Nick was the cameraman, and he did not talk much. Dylan was a zombie and my little brother. I’d been forced to bring him along because my mom had asked me to watch him.
Eventually, Griffin, Zach, and I agreed to do the shot one more time. After that, I’d move on without a word. Zach prepped the squirt gun filled with fruit punch. Nick pointed the camera at the tree, waiting. I stood behind Nick and yelled “Action!” Suddenly, Zach turned the water gun on me and squirted me in the face. After the second that it took me to realize what had happened, I began yelling.
“You asshole! Set everything back up. We’re doing the shot again.”
Before I’d even finished talking, everyone else was packing up. They had not done anything so efficiently or quickly during the entire production. I chased after them.
“Where are you going, guys?”
“You said we only had to do one more take. Well, one take is done,” Griffin said with a grunt. Before I knew it, everyone but my little brother was gone. I went home and got to editing.
Two nights later, we had the big reveal. All five of us got together to watch the movie for the first time. I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. I was liable to explode at any second. Everyone sat around my laptop in anticipation. I clicked play.
The movie was bad. Actually, to call it bad would be a complete disservice to how truly awful the movie was. Famous director Ed Wood, the mind behind the worst films ever put to celluloid, would have laughed at the film. There is a scene where a character tries to comfort themselves during their death by singing Katy Perry songs. The movie was that horrible.
As the credits rolled, we all sat in silence. No one dared speak. Then, I began to chuckle.
After a couple of seconds, Zach picked up the growing laughter. This was soon followed by Nick and Griffin. At this point, my chuckle had grown into a full laugh, with snorts and everything.
“That…that was just the worst,” I said in a quiet voice, as the laughter settled down.
“It really was,” replied Zach, “We should do it again.”
