Review: Indie Director: The Director’s Cut

Text © Richard Gary/Indie Horror Films, 2014
Images from the Internet

                            

Indie Director: The Director’s Cut

Directed by Bill Zebub                 
Bill Zebub Productions                   
142 minutes, 2013  
www.billzebub.com
www.facebook.com/billzebubproductions   
www.MVDvisual.com

“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.” – Mel Brooks

It’s been a while since I saw a Bill Zebub release, and I’m happy to have the opportunity to do so again.

To me, Zebub is sort of the modern Ed Wood. Now, now, don’t be mean, I’m serious. His output is meagerly acted, slimly written, doesn’t always make sense, the director is often the lead, and is almost always a hoot. Like Wood, Zebub does it for the joy it brings him, as well as a career.

In one of his early features, Assmonster: The Making of a Horror Film (2007), he uses the story to explain why he got into the indie horror industry; e.g., films sell at conventions for large mark-up, and you get to see and touch lots of naked women while you film them. Also like Ed, Bill looks at the dark side of life, sometimes by mocking it. It is not easy sticking to a conviction, but over the years Zebub has become one of the leading Jersey indie film auteurs.

Like Assmonster, this is sort of an autobiographical tale with Zebub playing himself after having made a number of films (which are mentioned – ergo promoted – frequently). You could arguably say this is actually a sequel in the sense of that British film that looks at some people every seven years.

While the storyline is written, I’m willing to bet that much of the incidents involved, such as distributors balking at some of his titles, which include the likes of Jesus the Total Douchebag, Jesus the Daughter of God, ZombieChrist and The Worst Horror Film Ever Made: The Sequel (actually, the latter is one of my Zebub faves). 

I’m not bothered by the anti-religion tone, the death metal music, the sheer amount of nudity, but there is the frequent – and I mean a lot – of homophobic comments that are used as humor, such as Zebub describing the difference between “jazz hands” and “gay fingers” (aka air quotes). Any time he wants to insult a man, he calls him gay. This part I’m not impressed. That being said, as I once stated, I’m not really sure if hanging out with Bill Zebub socially would be totally cool, or totally tool (yes, I used that as a verb…wanna make somptin’ of it?). If he is like he is in his films, well, I don’t know if I’d want to have a beer with him because he really does come across as an asshole (rather than assmonster).

There is also some “humor” talk about rape and domination. Again, I don’t mind film violence. Hey, pull someone’s arm out of a socket; stick a cleaver up somebody’s face; tie someone to two bound trees and then let them go…all good. But unless there is a revenge story on the other side (e.g., I Spit on Your Grave), or a point to it in the story, I find it hard when it’s a comedy, even if the rapist is Jesus (a common Zebub theme). To give you an example, the work title of the meta-project he is making is called Raped by a Rapist.

To be somewhat fair, he addresses this here. After a film of his is banned by “PayFriend,” he exasperatedly says to a pal, “I made a career out of doing everything wrong. Nobody else has blasphemy. Nobody else has racial humor. Nobody else depicts rape in movies, not even as a joke. I do things everybody else is afraid to do. … I wanted to test boundaries. ...The real balls are depicting the sexual sadist onscreen.” Despite finding it despicable, I also understand what he is saying. “Roughies” have a history in cinema, even dating back to James Cagney pushing a grapefruit half into Mae Clark’s face in The Public Enemy in 1931. There used to be an entire catalog of these kinds of films on a brand called W.A.V.E., in which some of today’s scream queens came to relative prominence such as the lovely Tina Krause.

Okay, enough with the moralizing and justifying. Let’s get back to the film, eh wot? Though quite pointed, this is still a comedy. Much of it relies on two things: one is an actor trying to keep up with Bill’s verbal bullshit and/or ad libbing, and the other is some of the stuff Bill says. Despite a number of repeated jokes (“See you later, crocodile” and jumping when his phone rings, for example), some of his word play is quite witty in that 12-year-old mentality; my favorite is when he says almost as a throwaway line, “I know you’re a methadone actress…” I wonder how many viewers actually caught that.

Unlike some of his other releases, there is no gore make-up and no laughable digi SFX (love the zomb-bees in an earlier film, or Jesus flying through the air still nailed to the cross). This is mostly set pieces of action, inaction (e.g., two guys talking while sitting on a couch), and any excuse to throw in some nekkid bodies, such as the bodacious Angelina Leigh, playing Zebub’s girlfriend, who we see the most – and most of – including on the throne (though her reading of putting that tail on words, like “I know-wah... It’s fine-nah” started to get to me by the end).

Ah, yes, let’s talk about Zebub’s women. As is common in one of his shoots, just about no women will be seen unless at some point they are not wearing a G-string (there is only one here). They range from very cute (such as the slim, braces-baring Sheri Medulla) to the big boobed and thick thighed. While not all stunning, he does have a wide range of body types, which I respect. However, one thing that is somewhat consistent (though not completely) is skin art. Most have multiple tattoos, including the very colorful ones of Stephanie Anders, who has a great one on her side that looks like her ribs are sticking through. Another actor has one of the worst tats I’ve ever seen. Seriously.

Getting away from all political comments about what is appropriate and what is not, the main weakness of this film is its length. There are too many scenes that could have been severely cut down which would have not made a hoot of difference to the story, such as Anders’ (purposefully) confused reading of what Bill was trying to say, or the scene where Bill is trying to film an actress, Svetlana (played by Clover St. Claire), who is completely distracted.

On the other hand, despite all the nonsense, if you pay attention to what is being said rather than how it is presented, this is actually quite a detailed primer on how (and how not) to not only make a micro-budget film, but how to deal with distributors, what to be careful of when it comes to picking financing and distribution, how not to get sucked into your own ego, along with some of the pitfalls of just everyday shooting and dealing with a cast who are more interested in their own promotion than the actual part. Amazingly, Zebub is the nutzoid voice of reason here. His nearly 10 years of experience of dealing with all these issues and frustrations are pure gold information for those wanting to follow the indie horror film path.

Just as a side note that has nuthin’ t’do wid nuthin’, I’m pleased there is an explanation as to why Zebub’s name is listed twice on the credits on the box. Plus, it’s cool that there is a death metal lesson at the end during the credits, as Bill Zebub has also directed some documentaries about the musical subgenre, such as Extreme Metal Retardation.

There are some jump cuts, but there is also some fine editing, including a nice slice between two actors saying the same words (“calm/down”).  Part of this was filmed at a horror convention, possibly the Chiller Theatre in NJ, I don’t know. There are shots of crowds in costumes, women doing hula hoops, creature feature miniature models, and I had a good smile when there’s a brief shot of the antichrist killer bunny puppet from Dustin Mills’ Easter Casket! 

There are a few extras, including bloopers and deleted scenes reel, each about 20 minutes long, and a bunch of Zebub’s trailers.