Larry Cohen

by Michael Doyle

  Finally, we should return to the late David Carradine. [7] What are your present thoughts on him?

  As you know, David had been an old friend of mine. We had shared a lot of good times together in the Army and then, when he got out of the service, we maintained our close friendship. I was with him on the opening night of his Broadway show, The Royal Hunt of the Sun, [8] in which David played the Inca Chief. I was also with him all through his Kung Fu [9] period throughout the 1970s, when he famously played the character of Grasshopper. And, as I say, when it came time to make Q, David agreed to do the picture without ever once seeing the script. That would never have happened if our friendship had not been so strong.

  Your collaboration with Carradine on Q was so fruitful, I’m wondering why you never worked together again?

  Unfortunately, later on in life, David and I had a falling out. I actually did try to make another picture with him called The Heavy. We went down to shoot it in New Mexico, but David was drunk most of the time. He was very obnoxious and was giving everybody a hard time, so I fired him. We then closed the picture down, and that was pretty much the end of our friendship. Later on, he apologized and wrote me a letter. He said he was sorry and missed our friendship. He asked me to come up to Canada and direct some episodes of the recently resurrected Kung Fu series that he was making, which I declined to do. David then came to my house and apologized in person, and we tried to put our differences behind us. We also met for a drink in the Valley and had a nice time together. However, the last time I saw David he was again very unpleasant. I ran into him at a screening on the Paramount lot, and, for some reason, he was extremely nasty that day. He was there with his brother, Bobby Carradine, and was showing off for him. [10] I said, “David, I don’t understand this. I thought you got over all that and we were friends again.” He said, “Times change.” And that was it. Sadly, that was the last time I saw him. The next thing I heard he was dead. [Pause] What can you say? Ours was a strange relationship. David was a restless, troubled person. I never went to a home of his where there wasn’t a piece of paper tacked to the door saying: “This property has been seized by the Internal Revenue Division.” Every place David ever went he was pursued relentlessly by the tax people. When I think about him, which I sometimes do, my feeling is that David was never really happy unless he was living in a state of absolute chaos.

  Perfect Strangers (1984)

  How did Perfect Strangers come about?

  The germ of the idea came when I thought it would be interesting to make a picture that was more or less told through the eyes of a two-year-old child. Of course, there had been other movies made about little children witnessing crimes like The Window [1] with Bobby Driscoll, but that concerned an eight- or nine-year-old boy and was different from what Perfect Strangers would eventually become. I always try to present myself with an interesting obstacle when I’m writing a movie. I enjoy the difficulties of setting an entire movie in a phone booth or, in the case of Perfect Strangers, meeting the challenge of making a picture with a non-speaking actor. I don’t think anybody had ever done a film with a non-speaking two-year-old boy in a principal part. Naturally, after dreaming up this approach, I then had to sit down and come up with the whole story and the surrounding characters. I conceived this idea that the little boy had witnessed a brutal crime in which the killer has murdered a man in cold blood. The killer then learns that this child is the only witness to his crime, and so he ingratiates himself with the boy’s mother in an effort to determine if the child recognizes him and can identify him to the police. As he goes about this, the killer begins a romantic relationship with the mother, but she has her own her acrimonious relationship with her ex-husband — the father of her child. As the killer gets closer to the family, he is left conflicted when his criminal associates demand that he murders the child and disposes of the only person who can potentially incriminate him and the criminal organization that employs him. I must say that there was no real planning in advance as to what the story would eventually become. The script for Perfect Strangers just seemed to work itself out, as these scripts often do. Many of the finer details, such as the mother’s relationship with the ex-husband and her association with the liberation and lesbian groups for women, came a little later.

  I find it interesting that you chose to make two contemporary Hitchcockian thrillers in Perfect Strangers and Special Effects — back-to-back — that take place in New York City. What compelled that decision?

  To be honest, what determined everything was the fact that I was able to secure the financing for both pictures at the same time. The entire enterprise was based on the agreement that I would make Perfect Strangers and Special Effects in New York with the same crew — without stopping. John Daly, the head of Hemdale Films, who bankrolled both films, suggested that we could make two pictures back-to-back. The first film would be Perfect Strangers, which was released in foreign markets as Blind Alleys, and the second would be Special Effects. So, we basically shot both of these movies as if they were one movie. As soon as we finished one picture, we segued straight into the second. I didn’t have any additional preparation time or anything. We were able to keep the crew on and not have a start-up course again. We had the exact same unit in place, which ensured a smooth and comfortable transition. One of the most interesting things about both movies was that Perfect Strangers cost just $200,000 and Special Effects cost just $300,000. That included paying everybody’s salary and covering the cost of the music — everything! There were no deferments. Everything was made within the allotted budgets.

  Anne Carlisle was an interesting choice for the role of Sally, the little boy’s mother. How did she drift onto your radar?

  I had seen Anne in a non-union film called Liquid Sky [2], in which she had played both the male and female leads. It was a rather bizarre and brave little movie that had been made by a Russian director. Anne was great in it and I thought she had a highly androgynous appeal about her that was very unusual. I knew she would be a wacky and unexpected choice for the role of the mother, and I jumped on the fact that I could kind of build this character around her. Anne’s ambisexual personality certainly came into play in the film and I thought she gave a very good performance. Another reason why I cast Anne was she wasn’t a member of the Screen Actors Guild. We only used non-SAG actors for both Perfect Strangers and Special Effects. This meant that I was able to make both films more economically because I didn’t have to deal with the union. All the members of the cast were Broadway or off-Broadway actors, but they hadn’t made enough films to become members of SAG. They were all New York actors, and many of them, including Anne, had appeared in underground movies.

  Carlisle seemed to specialise in playing sexually ambiguous characters, another one being the transvestite who is felt-up by Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee.

  Yeah, and after Crocodile Dundee, she kind of disappeared. I haven’t seen her since, so I don’t know whatever became of the poor girl. Anne was a very good actress and was very co-operative. We had a lot of fun together and I thought she might enjoy a nice career in movies, but, like so many people, she just vanished afterwards. I was also interested in finding out whatever became of Mathew Stockley, who played the little boy. Of course, he would be an adult today, but I wonder if he has any recollection of having been in this movie? After we finished Perfect Strangers, I arranged a screening and Matthew’s parents brought him along so he could see the movie. I watched him during the course of the screening. In fact, I think I had a camera on him to see if he had any reaction to seeing himself onscreen. To tell you the truth, there was no reaction whatsoever. I was quite disappointed. I thought that maybe he would have some kind of response to seeing himself in all these scenes, but he never reacted at all, not once. He just sat there and stared at it.

  Another New York actor you hired was Brad Rijn, who plays Johnny, the hitman dispatched to kill Sally’s child. What can you tell me about him?

  Before doing Perfect Stranger
s, Brad had appeared in Susan Seidelman’s first picture, Smithereens. He played a guy who drives to New York and lives in his van, and begins a relationship with this young woman in the lower Manhattan area. I thought Brad was very good in that part and had an interesting mix of strength and vulnerability, and I managed to locate him and get him involved in my movie. Brad is good in Perfect Strangers, but he’s another actor who has made very few films. I immediately hired him again on Special Effects, and he got good reviews in The New York Times. He later made brief appearances in The Stuff and A Return to Salem’s Lot for me, but then disappeared completely and was never seen again. I don’t know what happened to Brad’s film career, or his life for that matter. I can’t tell you whatever became of him. Some of the people in my pictures just seem to disappear into the fog and are never heard of again. What can I say?

  Dare I say it’s the curse of Larry Cohen!

  I don’t know. I really don’t. These were all solid actors, who responded very well to direction. They did exceedingly good jobs for me. At that time, Anne and Brad had some decent films under their belt that they could show people. I envisioned them both continuing to move forward after Perfect Strangers, acquiring agents and building their careers. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. It’s a mystery to me.

  In your mind, what is the significance of Johnny spray painting his shadow on the walls of the city?

  There was an artist who was doing spray paintings in and around New York City, and I gradually became aware of his images. [3] I contacted this guy and obtained his permission to use his spray paintings in the movie. Of course, we did pay him for the privilege. I thought it was a wacky, crazy thing for Johnny to do and it demonstrated his mental aberration. Johnny is almost like a ghost. Nobody seems to quite know him. The cops don’t have much information on him which makes him an ideal hitman. I also thought the spray paintings were a leitmotif to the picture that fitted in nicely with the song we used. I also asked my ex-wife, Janelle, to write a few songs for the film because she was a good songwriter. [4] I told her what the picture was about, and she wrote them specifically for the movie. I think those lyrics add something to Perfect Strangers. They comment on the action in a very subtle but meaningful way. The whole idea of Johnny recreating his image that way was meant to illustrate the fact that he considered himself to be no ordinary criminal. The audience could clearly see that he was severely disturbed. Well, I guess if you insist on going around killing people then you must be severely disturbed! But I liked the idea of him spray painting his own shadow on the walls of the city. It’s as if he is attempting to leave his mark but, conversely, it’s also like he isn’t even there. Johnny is a shadow, a non-entity. I felt it certainly added something to that character and to the film.

  The Canadian actor Stephen Lack turns up as Lt. Burns, the cop investigating the murder Johnny has committed. Lack is famous for working with David Cronenberg on Scanners and Dead Ringers. How did he get cast in the role?

  His name came up as a possibility, and, apparently, Stephen was also not in the Screen Actors Guild. I approached him about playing the part, and he agreed to do it. We then built that role up a little bit and made him a gay detective, which was highly unusual back in those days, particularly having a gay character in any kind of authority role. Stephen wasn’t suitable to play a tough, hardboiled detective, so I changed his character. I wanted to create something that would not only fit him better as an actor, but also give the detective a little more texture. I was also very happy to have any actor in my movie that had appeared in David Cronenberg’s movies.

  Lack has often been criticised in the past for his acting abilities, particularly for his performance in Scanners.

  Well, David Cronenberg obviously liked Stephen because he’s worked for him more than once. I’ve become friendly with David in recent years and he’s a very nice fellow. We enjoy each other’s company and conversation. If Stephen Lack was good enough for David, then he was good enough for me.

  I liked the idea of Johnny using the plot of E.T. the Extra Terrestrial as a way of illustrating to Matthew why he shouldn’t betray him to the cops.

  I like that scene, too. E.T. was hugely popular at the time, but we didn’t show any images from the movie or any photographs of the alien itself as we didn’t have a license to do so. I did tell Steven Spielberg that I was doing the scene and he said he didn’t mind. Actually, I may have told Steven that I’d already done it, not that I was going to do it. He said it was okay and, again, we didn’t violate any copyright because we didn’t show anything. I would’ve liked to have shown a picture of E.T. itself to sell the idea of what Johnny was doing, but I didn’t want to get into a copyright situation.

  Out of curiosity, are you an admirer of Spielberg’s film?

  Oh, I love E.T.! I thought it was a wonderful picture, absolutely wonderful. Every time I see it I end up crying! [Laughs] I always say to myself, “Okay, this time I’m not going to cry over this stupid puppet,” and then, naturally, I end up crying again. Maybe it’s the music that does it, I don’t know.

  Little Matthew’s reaction shots in his scenes with Brad Rijn often seem quite genuine and appropriate. How did you achieve them?

  It may be hard for you to believe, but before every scene I would sit down and try to explain it to Matthew. As I was talking, he would always stare blankly at me. I’d tell him what he was supposed to do and then we would shoot the scene and he would just do it! I don’t know why or how this happened, or what power I had over him, or what actual recognition the kid had of what I was saying. I would simply relay to him what was required and he would simply do it. For example, if he was required to walk into a room and open a refrigerator, he would do it. If he was required to walk down a hall and duck into a closet, again, he would do it. It was remarkable. I mean, the crew were looking at me as if I was some kind of mesmerist or something. [Laughs] The kid’s parents would always be on set, hiding somewhere when we were doing a shot. I would say to Matthew, “Go to your Mom.” He would then go to wherever his Mom was hiding. Then I would call out, “Okay, now go to your Dad!” He would then turn around and walk to his Dad, who would be hiding behind a couch or something. That’s basically how we did it. We moved him around by using his parents as destination points. If some kind of reaction was needed in the scene, I would say, “Okay, Matthew, see these photos? I want you to go through them and when you find this picture that looks like so-and-so, stop and really look at it.” And, incredibly, he would do it. Before we did this everybody was standing around saying, “This director must be crazy if he thinks he can tell this kid what to do!” But every time — every time — he would do what I asked of him. They tell you never to work with children, but I just had a magic working for me on that film. That’s why I felt that when we finally showed Perfect Strangers to Matthew, he would look at it and have some kind of reaction to the movie. But there was nothing visible that I could detect.

  Did the shooting of Perfect Strangers pass without incident?

  I do remember that one day we were shooting in an apartment and I had always told Matthew’s parents to keep an eye on him. I said, “You must watch your son at all times, because we have cables everywhere and heavy lights and it’s dangerous.” I thought I had stressed this to them, but I suddenly looked down at the far end of a corridor and glimpsed Matthew walking along by himself. He had wandered off alone and I watched as he made a right turn into this room. I ran down the hall after him and got to the doorway in time to see he had picked up a cable and was pulling on it. Now this cable was attached to a heavy, scalding hot light, that was positioned on a stand, that was now starting to fall! I raced into the room and grabbed the light by the pole just before it toppled over and struck him. Oh Jesus, I just shuddered! [Exhales] I mean, it was such a close call. If I had got there even ten seconds later, Matthew would have been badly hurt — perhaps even killed. Of course, that would have been the end of Perfect Strangers and quite possibly the end of lit
tle Matthew, as well. Frankly, it was a miracle that I even saw him. I had a million things on my mind in that one moment, but I just happened to spy him strolling away. Afterwards I said to his parents, “Where the hell were you? What were you doing? How could you let him wander off like that?” I’m just thankful I was there in time, because that could have been a disastrous and devastating experience for all concerned.

  I actually have a question about children being placed in harm’s way: you staged scenes in Perfect Strangers, and in some of your previous films, that dramatise children in jeopardy. This device is occasionally used by filmmakers to bluntly heighten suspense and fear, is it not?