Russ Meyer with Roger Ebert
Roger Ebert and I had a mutual friend in filmmaker Russ Meyer.
Russ was the director-writer-producer-editor-distributor of most of his films, movies such as Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!, Vixen and Supervixens. He was the guy who screenwriter William Goldman called “the only true independent filmmaker in Hollywood,” or something like that.
I met Russ in 1980, the year I graduated from college. But he and Ebert had been friends for years by that time, collaborating on the screenplay for 1970’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. I saw the film in a college class and was awestruck. It was hilarious, violent, and way ahead of its time. Some people didn’t get it. It was a spoof, not only of the Jacqueline Susann bestseller Valley of the Dolls, but of the entire 1960s mindset and lifestyle. The author hated the film so much she sued Fox over making a travesty out of her travesty.
Over the years, Russ and I would get together when the opportunity presented itself, whether it was in Philadelphia, where I lived, or Los Angeles, where he lived. Our conversation at some point would include Roger Ebert, truly one of his closest friends.
There were many stories about the writing of Beyond that Russ told me. The movie was the first of a three-picture deal for 20th Century Fox, who came calling after Russ’s low-budget Vixen made millions at the box office. Beyond was rated “X,” and was a sizable hit, but Fox claimed it was a bomb. The real bomb of the year was the studio’s other X-rated outing, Myra Breckinridge.
Russ was especially proud of Beyond—he made one other movie for Fox, then moved on—and of Roger’s contributions. Their relationship began when Ebert saw something in Russ’s films that others ignored. He viewed him as a satirist, kind of an Al Capp of sexploitation, and he reviewed his film favorably. When Russ was on a publicity stop in Chicago, he and Ebert clicked. Thus began their friendship and working relationship.
By the same token, Russ hated Gene Siskel, Ebert’s Windy City rival, and, later, his co-star on the various TV movie review shows that rocketed him and Roger to fame and fortune. “R.M.” (how he answered the phone) told me he threatened Siskel once in a hotel room because of a bad review that got personal.
Roger went on to collaborate on a few scripts with Russ. Under the pseudonym of “Reinhold Time,” Ebert co-wrote the outrageous sex-and-violence smorgasbord Up!, and using the name “R. Hyde,” the equally outré outing Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens.
Then there were the unrealized projects Russ talked about. One was called “Jaws of Vixen,” and from what I recall, it involved the corpse of Elvis, transfusions from dead beavers and women with large bazoongas. And there was the Sex Pistols movie called “Who Killed Bambi?,” which was actually made in 1980 in a much different version envisioned by Meyer and Ebert, by Julien Temple as The Great Rock and Roll Swindle.
Russ told me about the writing of the film in England with Roger, the difficulty of working with Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious, and expressed how much he hated their manager, Malcolm McLaren. He gave me a copy of the script. If it was produced as written, there is no doubt it would have been one of the wackiest rock films of all time.
Over the years, Russ told me about how Roger asked for advice when he and Siskel were going to sign a big syndication contract to take their movie reviewing to Disney. (I actually think Russ was in the room with Roger when the deal was done). He told me Roger was one of the world’s fastest typists and that the opening of their show, in which Roger hunts and pecks on an old manual and Siskel uses a computer, was a joke. In real life, Gene was the old-fashioned guy and Roger the computer wizard. No surprise, because of Roger’s prolific work and blogging on the Internet years later. He also thought Roger was a bachelor for life and Russ, who had a few goes at marriage and long-term relationships, felt a kinship with him for that. Based on conversations I had with Russ, I sensed that when Roger married lawyer Chaz Hamel-Smith in 1992, Russ was happy for him—but surprised and somewhat disappointed that the end of the Gentlemen’s Club era of their relationship was over.
Russ introduced me to Roger a few times at video conventions in Washington, D.C. and Las Vegas. We exchanged pleasantries. Roger and Gene were big fans of the annual Movies Unlimited Video Catalog. I was a huge fan of Siskel and Ebert, tried to catch their show whenever it aired in Philly (sometimes at 2 or 3 AM!), or when they made appearances on a talk show.
One time, my friend and I did a parody of Siskel & Ebert and filmed it. I donned a sweater and played Roger; he wore a sport jacket and played Siskel. We reviewed fake movies (like Blake Edwards’ “Revenge of the Curse of the Director’s Wife’s Breasts”) and included film clips and even had a “Dog of the Week” with Dusty, a real canine, making an appearance. As Roger, I ate popcorn from a trashcan and my expressive hands would sometime go out of control.
We were being goofy and, hey, it kept us out of trouble. Thinking about it today, however, I realize it was done with real affection, as stupid as it was. We were realizing our dream life in front of the camera.
And I knew that if Roger or Russ had seen it somehow, somewhere, they would have had their thumbs up.
