There were several films made throughout the 1980s that featured characters who were Vietnam veterans battling to preserve their own dignity, sanity, and destructive urges upon returning to civilian life. Of course, First Blood and its sequels immediately come to mind. What did you make of these portrayals?
Those movies usually depict veterans as being like human weapons: time bombs that are ready to detonate and turn on all those who mess with them. Hammer is very different to Rambo because he has more layers of depth and subtlety. He is on a mission of revenge for his dead friend. It’s often said that a lot of veterans returned from Vietnam as damaged men, but I’m sure a percentage of them were already damaged before they went and their problems were exacerbated by the rigours of combat. I’m sure some men were traumatised by what they had witnessed and experienced, and some turned to drugs and alcohol as a means of escape. Of course, a lot of civilians do that, too. They don’t need combat experience to have a reason to get wasted. But in my script, I made Hammer an ex-alcoholic who is struggling to hold his life together. He is constantly eating candy bars as a substitute and carries them in his pockets, ready to pull one out and gobble it down. He’s an addict on the edge and he can topple off at any moment. None of his alcoholism is really played up in the finished film. There’s the scene in First Blood where Jack Starrett plays the cop who is brutalizing Sylvester Stallone at the police station and Rambo goes crazy. Originally, I had a sequence in I, the Jury where the CIA capture Hammer and forcibly put some Scotch down his throat. It would have been a tremendous scene — very emotionally-charged and powerful — but, no, that had to go, too! They changed the whisky to Hammer having to endure some electric shocks. That may have seemed a more painful form of torture, but it’s weaker, certainly dramatically. It was just too obvious for me and really lacked something. By using the whisky, Hammer’s tormentors would have been forcing him to confront his own addiction. He would have had to summon all of his courage and willpower not to guzzle the liquor down. All of that was lost, along with the suggestion that Hammer may have wanted to surrender to his demons on one level. It’s not unreasonable to suggest that he wanted to be forced to drink because that removed all his guilt and culpability. That was very interesting stuff and would have given the picture a lot more depth.
As you have already remarked, Hammer is somewhat psychotic and is incredibly violent in the finished film. How much of that was your doing?
The violence was all in the script. Everything that’s in there was all in the script. Actually, they followed my script pretty well. I did have problems with the style of the film and the casting of some of the parts, but, in general, they followed my script. Everything Hammer did was in there: pouring cement over the guy; closing the cab door on the mobster’s coat so that when the vehicle pulls away he’s dragged across the street. That was all in the script.
What about Hammer driving the Japanese cook’s face down into the burning hibachi grill?
Oh yeah, that was in there, too. I thought that moment was very poorly realized in the movie. It was just too abrupt and had no build-up. There was no rationalisation to it. All of a sudden, it just happens and plays like a brutal act of arbitrary violence. I mean, how is it that the cook just happens to be there? And how come he tries to slash the other person in the restaurant? There was just no build-up for how it was shot.
You have also gone on record as objecting to the orgy scene being intercut with the twins being stabbed to death.
I certainly objected to the way it was shot, but I didn’t necessarily object to the concept itself. I just thought it was very shabbily done.
At the time of the film’s release, you complained that Richard T. Heffron had inserted “obscene” sequences into I, the Jury and that you had originally wanted to make a “lighter, James Bond” sort of film. Is this true?
Well, I didn’t say that, or I didn’t mean that. I meant that I, the Jury should have been a slicker, glossier movie and not look quite as cheap as it did. I mean, the whole reason I got into this was because I’d read a review by Bosley Crowther in The New York Times when Dr. No opened. Crowther had likened James Bond to Mike Hammer and wrote, “This character owes a lot to Mickey Spillane.” I thought, “Oh, if we could just make some Mike Hammer movies — and make them big and expensive-looking — we could do a whole series of them. We could have a continuing character that is similar to James Bond.” Honestly, we could have done a number of big-budget pictures, but each picture would’ve had to have been beautifully done and made better than the previous one. You know, up until that time, Hollywood was making sequels and trying to make the picture at half the price of the preceding instalment. They would simply reuse the title, like they did with The Return of the Magnificent Seven. So, the idea was that each successive Mike Hammer picture would be bigger and more expensive than the last one. It would have more action and more quality to it, like the James Bond movies did. They kept elevating the production values, stunts, gags, and storylines, transforming Bond into this spectacularly successful and enduring franchise. With the Mike Hammer thing, they were just “cheaping-out” as they say.
The realization of Velda, Hammer’s devoted secretary, has been described as one of the truest onscreen portrayals of the character.
Well, Laurene Landon was terrific in the role, and she got all the best reviews for the picture. Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert both loved her and thought she was going to be a big star. Laurene did a great job and she looked beautiful, even though she was a blonde and Velda was usually portrayed as a brunette. Frankly, Laurene stole every scene she was in. I think Armand Assante was a little upset with her because she was taller than him. On top of that, when they both went to the firing range to practice their shooting Laurene could also outshoot him. Assante wasn’t too friendly to her throughout the course of filming. Anyway, Laurene did a good job, and she would have probably been a big star if she hadn’t have gone off to Spain to do Yellow Hair [4] and Hundra, two sword and sorcery movies. That took two years out of her career. By the time she got back, all the momentum she had generated was gone. Laurene did play the leads in both those pictures but, unfortunately, it took the wind out of her sails. I always say that in Hollywood, you have to follow up every successful movie with another successful movie — one on top of the other — to become a box office star.
Did they use any of the scenes you had shot in the finished film?
No. The producers threw all out of the footage I’d shot and started all over again with the new director. I had started shooting I, the Jury in Panavision and they later changed the visual format to 1:85. So, my scenes were obviously not compatible or useable with the new stuff that they had shot, so it all had to go. They did one scene at the beginning where Hammer is in bed with the girl and he’s talking to her husband on the phone. The husband has actually hired Hammer to follow the girl and Hammer is reporting back to the husband on his wife’s doings as he’s screwing her. All of that was shot in widescreen Panavision and the rest of the picture was shot in 1:85, so they changed the whole process of shooting after I was gone. They also recast one or two of the parts — replacing actors I had shot — with some very poor people.
How did you learn that your screenplay was being altered and certain scenes you had written were being excised altogether?
Laurene Landon and I were in a relationship at the time, so I viewed a copy of her script. I soon noticed that several changes had been made, and certainly not for the better! Laurene was also being told by certain people not to show me the new scenes that were being written. That was a little tough to take, but hey, what can you do about it? I was off the picture by then and that was it. My script had a lot of Larry Cohen touches and innovations, some that were unfortunately lost or executed rather poorly during shooting.
What kinds of things were changed?
Oh, I don’t know. At the end of the film you see now, Hammer presents the woman psychiatrist with a box of flowers that actually contains
his dead friend’s prosthetic arm. I had nothing to do with that. All the endings I had in mind culminated with Hammer shooting the woman psychiatrist. That was always the last scene. I also wrote another scene in my version of the script where Hammer takes the prosthetic arm and viciously beats the bad guy to death with it. In effect, the villain has been killed by the fake arm of the very man he murdered. I thought that was a very clever touch and it would have made a terrific scene. As a matter of fact, I think it would have been comparable to the shoeshine scene in Black Caesar. It could have had that same kind of power, you know? Unfortunately, that was not in the picture.
Do you think Armand Assante was miscast in the role of Mike Hammer?
I don’t think he was miscast; it was just that he wasn’t good enough. I mean, Assante was okay for the part, but I did have somebody else in mind for Hammer at one point. When I was casting I, the Jury, I was reading various actors for the role of the villain and in walked a young actor that I immediately liked. I said to this guy, “Don’t read the villain. Read the Mike Hammer part,” which he proceeded to do. He was very good but, unfortunately, Armand had already been cast. I told this guy, “Look, you were great. In fact, you are a lot better than Armand Assante. I wish I could put you in the part, but it’s too late now. Armand already has a contract and the wardrobe.” This young man thanked me and we said our goodbyes and that was that. A few years later, I went to the Golden Globes in Los Angeles and this same young man approached me. I didn’t know who he was, but he said, “I just wanted to thank you because you were the person who gave me the most encouragement back in New York.” I smiled, thanked him, and he walked away. My sister was with me and she immediately said, “Do you know who that was?” I said, “I know he’s an actor. I remember reading him once.” She said, “Larry, that’s Bruce Willis. He’s got the hottest new show on TV. It’s called Moonlighting.” [5] Of course, within a very short time, Bruce Willis went on to make Die Hard and became a huge movie star. It was nice that he came over and said that to me. I think if we’d had Bruce in I, the Jury it would have been a far more successful picture.
He would have been an interesting choice for Hammer.
If Bruce had played that part, we would have made five Mike Hammer movies. He would have given it just the right touch and the thing would have taken off and been a big success. I don’t think I would have been fired either if Bruce had been on the picture. Basically, I think one of the reasons I was fired was because of Armand Assante’s lusting after Laurene Landon. Armand was well aware that Laurene and I were an item at the time. He was trying to get rid of me, so that he would have a clear path to Laurene. So, I think he worked with the producers and got me fired. I don’t think that would have happened with Bruce, but you never can tell. Anyway, that’s what happened and that’s the way it was.
It’s certainly no exaggeration to say that over the years you have been a highly vocal and unrepentant critic of I, the Jury.
Yeah, I have, but I must admit that the picture is a little better than I originally thought it was. I actually ran it last year and thought, “Well, it’s not quite as bad as I remember.” I mean, it’s still bad, just not as bad as my memory told me it was. At the time, the whole experience of I, the Jury was depressing and a little weird, frankly. I mean, what can you do? My reaction was to simply refuse to let it get me down for too long. But I had such high hopes and expectations for the movie and all of them had been quickly dashed. I viewed I, the Jury as a missed opportunity to do something great, but it was all gone. Suddenly, I was out on the street with no movie and I needed something else to do. That’s when Q came along.
Q — The Winged Serpent (1982)
Q — The Winged Serpent remains one of the films that your admirers like the most. After your dismissal from I, the Jury, I understand that the beginnings of this project were rather fraught and hasty?
You could say that. [Chuckles] After they fired me, the producers of I, the Jury thought I was going to leave New York immediately and return to California, but I certainly had no intention of doing that. After a few days spent alone in my hotel room feeling depressed, I suddenly decided that I was going to make another picture right away. I thought that if I didn’t do something quickly, the stink over my dismissal would hang around and people would perhaps be second-guessing me, or thinking I was no longer employable or something. I already had the script for Q — The Winged Serpent sitting idly in my closet. I’d written it about six months earlier and devised this story about an enormous flying dinosaur terrorising a modern metropolis. I was now determined that I would make this little monster movie instead and show everybody that I wasn’t beaten down. I didn’t have any financing arranged or any actors in place, nothing like that. Actually, the very first thing I did was to hire a helicopter pilot and cameraman, and start shooting the aerial photography in the skies above New York City. So, only a matter of days after I was fired from I, the Jury, I was already shooting Q. I only did two days of pre-production!
How did you assemble the cast so quickly?
It all happened very, very fast. I was having lunch with a young actress at a restaurant opposite Lincoln Centre, when I noticed that Michael Moriarty was sitting at the next table. I’d always admired Moriarty’s work, and started telling this actress what a wonderful performer he was. I mentioned some of the outstanding performances he had given in television and in film, and the various awards he had collected. I glanced over and noticed that Moriarty was looking over at me, listening to our conversation. He smiled and, a few moments later, I went over to introduce myself. We struck up a conversation and I mentioned that I had a script called Q that might contain a good part for him. Moriarty shook my hand and agreed to read it. The very next day he called me, saying he would do the picture and wanted to play the part of Jimmy Quinn, the small-time crook. Shortly after this, I got Candy Clark involved to play Jimmy’s girlfriend. A few years earlier, Candy had been Oscar-nominated for her role in American Graffiti and, at the time I was readying Q, she was appearing in the off-Broadway play, Two White Chicks. I also asked Richard Roundtree to come in from California to play one of the cops, and after those actors were in place, I contacted my old army buddy David Carradine, who was attending the Cannes Film Festival. I thought he would be a good choice to play the detective who is investigating the mysterious deaths that are occurring in the city. I told David, “I’m doing this new picture and we start shooting in a couple of days. Michael Moriarty and Candy Clark are in it, and I’ve got a good part for you.” Naturally, he asked me what it was all about and I said, “Look, just come back and do the picture. You’ll love this part, I promise.” David then agreed to be in it and flew back to the States from France. We were shooting the scene where Moriarty auditions for the job of a jazz singer and is playing the scat piano, when David literally arrived at the bar from the airport. He was actually wearing the same suit that he wears in that scene. I do remember that he was very nervous that first day. David really didn’t know what he had gotten himself into. He was asking me all these questions, but I remember just telling him to enter the room, sit at the bar, and engage the bartender in conversation. It’s that little exchange where the bartender asks the detective if he’s found the window cleaner’s head yet, and he replies, “No, but it’ll turn up.” Now, David didn’t know anything about the character he was playing, or what scene we were shooting, or even what the whole movie was about! I don’t believe he had ever allowed himself to be placed in such a vulnerable situation like that before in his career. Fortunately, he trusted me, but moments after we finished shooting that scene, David was so nervous and upset he immediately went outside and threw up in the street.
Meanwhile, as you commenced with the shooting of Q, the production of I, the Jury was also moving forward with its new director.
That’s right. In fact, as we began work on Q, everybody congregated at the Mayflower Hotel in New York, which was also where the cast and crew of I, the Jury were staying.
They were all astonished when they saw me leaving for work in the morning at the same time they were with a bunch of new actors. They couldn’t believe that I was already making another movie within three or four days of being fired. On any given day, I had a crew of twelve people on Q as opposed to the hundred crew-people that were working on I, the Jury. Despite this, we finished shooting Q in eighteen days, but they continued on for about thirty days until they eventually ran out of money and filed for bankruptcy. That’s when I, the Jury was sold to Fox in auction and, oddly enough, about eight months later, both pictures opened on the exact same day in New York. Q opened at the Rivoli Theatre and I, the Jury opened two blocks away at the National Theatre. Their picture cost ten times as much as ours, but we ended up doing three times as much business as they did. We also received better reviews. So, it all worked out very happily for me in the end, but it would never have happened if I hadn’t been fired. I guess adversity can sometimes become triumph.
An intriguing aspect of Q is the promotion of low-life career criminal Jimmy Quinn from what would have ordinarily been seen as a secondary character to leading anti-hero status. This is at the expense of the cops who are usually the main protagonists in a genre film.
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