Using Personal Tragedy to Fuel Your Writing
Every musician on Earth knows it – being eviscerated is the best song-writing fuel there is.
Nothing makes you pour your heart into art like having it ripped out of your body and pureed. Fortunately for all of us not on the receiving end of said pain, we get to enjoy the badass art that’s birthed by human agony. Scottish sorcerer (and occasional writer) Grant Morrison wrote “All-Star Superman” because his dad had just died. Edgar Allen Poe’s entire body of work cataloged the agony of losing the one you love at an early age. Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar” is essentially a novel-length suicide note.
There’s a catharsis factor to creating art (a book, a movie, or a pornographic comic about Alice in Wonderland coughAlanMoorecough). The world-weary artist gets to scream into the void all their fears and frustrations. They get to pour alcohol on their wounds in full view of the public. They get to suck the poison out of the snakebite that is their life. Plus, you know, sometimes they get paid for it and that’s nice.
This list could go on infinitely, but here are four classic movies that we only got to see because someone’s life exploded, and they decided to point a camera at it.
Interview with the Vampire
Anne Rice, famous writer and semi-notorious kook, is basically responsible for the modern resurgence of the vampire craze. Some consider this to be a bad thing, but I don’t – for me, “Vampire Story” is just another genre like “Science Fiction,” “Musical,” or “Madonna Movie.”
Her first novel of the “Vampire Chronicles” was “Interview with the Vampire,” a sweeping, romantic, gothic tale of vampire-with-a-soul Louis and his creator, the rock-and-rolling, smooth-as-a-gravy-sandwich Lestat. Themes of innocence lost, homoeroticism, and morality play out against a lush backdrop of pre-Civil War New Orleans.
It’s a good book, if you can wade through a metric butt-load of meandering description, and Hollywood made it into a surprisingly great movie starring angel look-alike Brad Pitt and an almost unrecognizable Tom Cruise. Antonio Banderas also makes an appearance, because apparently the filmmakers decided to break the record for “amount of lady-boners caused by one movie.”
And dude boners, let’s get real.
In the film, an extremely young Kirsten Dundst plays Claudia, a doll-like vampire girl created by Lestat to keep Louis company.
Claudia is an unreal creation of otherworldly cuteness, all curls and dresses, a fever dream of what a little girl looks like. She’s tempestuous, vulnerable, demanding, and shy, and her excellent portrayal is about 80% of the reason Kirsten Dundst still gets work. Louis finally loses his soul when Claudia is executed, and his wroth is truly something to behold as he suicidally carves his way through about a hundred vampires with nothing but a scythe and a set of truly creepy dead eyes.
Louis pretty much gives up on the world after Claudia’s death and is never able to find a companion again
The Tragedy
Anne Rice once had a daughter named Michelle, who passed away from leukemia at age six. This occurred in 1972, and by her own admission, both Rice and her husband decided to dig their own graves with a whiskey bottle right after it happened. They collapsed into despair, withdrawing from the world, and Rice even admitted that she probably would have died from sheer alcohol saturation if she hadn’t written “Interview with the Vampire.”
In the book (which was completed in 1973, a year after her daughter’s death), Louis and Lestat come upon a little girl dying from the plague. She is, by chance, six-years-old. Lestat makes her immortal, the perfect little girl who can live forever. However, as Claudia matures and her body doesn’t, both Claudia and Louis realize that the illusion of a “little girl who can’t die” is just that – a fantasy, an ephemeral dream that leaves only bitterness in its wake.
Claudia’s anger at the lie nearly kills Lestat – the father figure. Later, the world punishes them by killing Claudia and leaving Louis – the mother figure – bereft and alone. Louis’s “sentence” by the other vampires is even “eternity in a box,” trapped with his own grief forever, a fitting metaphor for a parent who’s lost their child. Lestat and Louis having (and losing) a child destroys them both. The subtext, as you can see, is anything but.
Anne Rice apparently didn’t realize the connection until it was pointed out to her by an interviewer. She immediately copped to it and was surprised she’d never noticed it before that moment.
Raging Bull
“Raging Bull” is a 1980 boxing movie about Jake LaMotta, and is loosely based off his autobiography. The flick is a tragedy in the most classic sense of the word, telling the story of a violent man who is rewarded and then punished for his immense capacity for destruction.
Raging Bull was directed by eyebrow enthusiast Martin Scorsese and starred Robert DeNiro at the top of his game. The movie is widely considered to be one of the best films of all time and is often given the crown of “best movie from the 1980s.” It’s the kind of movie that has completely entered the cultural zeitgeist – even if you haven’t seen it, you’ve probably quoted it without knowing.
If you’ve ever screamed, “I’m not an animal” or “Did you f*^$ my wife?” and weren’t sure where that came from, now you know. And though the line “I coulda been a contender” didn’t originate in Raging Bull, the flat intonation it’s often quoted in is the way Robert DeNiro parrots it in this movie.
Pictured: Robert DeNiro victorious over Martin Scorsese’s Liver
The Tragedy
Just before making Raging Bull, Martin Scorsese was on a spiral of drug abuse that eventually led to his collapse after a film festival. He nearly died, and everyone surrounding him could see the way his life was going.
Eventually, on the set of “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” DeNiro pitched the idea of Raging Bull to Martin Scorsese – DeNiro had been reading the autobiography and found it fascinating. Scorsese declined because of his dislike of sports and went on his drug-doing way. However, that wouldn’t fly for much longer. Here’s what happened next, in Scorsese’s own words:
“The only good thing about the drug use is that it was very obvious in my case. And I just had to go to that brick wall. Nobody was going to tell me otherwise, whether it was a rock ‘n’ roller, or a studio executive, or an actor. People can try to guide me, but I always have to go my own way.
That’s when I finally went to the hospital, and that’s when De Niro came to visit and asked if I wanted to do the film. Really, we had been working on it since Taxi Driver. I realized I had nothing else to do. I had exhausted all the possibilities. Even my friends were all going off on their own. I was alone. And it was time to go back to work. And what I discovered – it’s in “Raging Bull” and it’s in the other pictures later on – is that I had to come to terms with something. The fighting with myself. You get to the point where you just get used to yourself: that’s who you are, just get on with it.”
Scorsese wasn’t sure if Raging Bull would be a success – it was ultra-violent, ugly, and edgy. Plus Scorsese didn’t know if he’d even be alive much longer. So, Scorsese decided to do that flick and was widely quoted as thinking it would be his last movie.
He leaped into production with what he called “kamikaze filmmaking.”
Robert DeNiro plays young Jake, and an older, fatter Jake. Instead of using makeup and a fat suit, Marty decided DeNiro needed to go natural. They filmed the young in-shape boxer scenes, then stopped production on the movie so DeNiro could jet off and eat France and Italy. No really. He did a tour of both countries, eating everything in sight, and came back to the states with 60 extra pounds on him. They eventually had to stop production AGAIN because during the physical scenes DeNiro could barely breathe he was in such terrible shape, and Marty thought he was going to have a heart attack.
It’s like young Robert DeNiro ate old Marlon Brando.
Joe Pesci, also in the movie, probably got the worst of Scorsese’s wild, “no tomorrow” directing. During the scene where DeNiro rolls into the restaurant and beats the living hell out of him, Pesci had no idea that’s what was going to happen. The script didn’t mention him being attacked, so his initial look of surprise is genuine. In a sparring scene, DeNiro was throwing punches so hard he cracked a few of Pesci’s ribs. During the infamous “you f*#^ my wife?” scene, apparently DeNiro was giving the line his all, but Pesci wasn’t showing the reaction Scorsese wanted.
So, Marty took DeNiro aside and changed the line. When the scene started again, DeNiro screamed “DID YOU F*^* YOUR MOTHER?” instead of “Did you f*#^ my wife?” and Pesci’s very guttural confused reaction is what made it into the movie.
Scorsese was making wild decisions left and right. Hell, the only reason the movie is in black-and-white is because during a screening, Scorsese’s director friend Michael Powell pointed out that the candy-red color of Jake’s boxing gloves wasn’t appropriate for the period – they would have used maroon or black gloves. So Marty just goes “ah hell with it” and strips color out of the entire movie.
Luckily, the movie was a huge success and managed to pull Scorsese out of his drug addiction. It ended up not even being close to his last movie, and he owes it all to Robert DeNiro. And probably a deep personal well of strength but whatever let’s give it to DeNiro.
Chinatown
The flick is considered the template for neo-noir. It takes a familiar story – Private Investigator deals with saucy dames, the corrupt upper-class, and the seedy criminal underbelly of the city – and breaks all of the illusions over its knee.
I’d toss out a “spoiler warning,” but the movie’s been out for forty years. Jake is clever, but he’s just a man. He gets the hell beat out of him, barely makes it through the mystery, and ultimately loses to the much more powerful corrupt forces that run the city. You never do learn what Jake’s oft-referenced mysterious past is. The love interest dies, the crimes get swept under the rug, the bad guy wins. Roll credits.
Though the movie is wonderful, and I highly recommend watching it (if you haven’t), easily the most memorable thing about the movie is the ending. It swings a heavy fist into your gut, kicks you over, and walks off whistling with your wallet. It’s basically a proto “Game of Thrones” episode.
However, that wasn’t the original ending. In the screenplay, Jake wins, gets the girl, the bad guys get exposed. While there’s no question “Chinatown” would still be a good movie with that ending, it wouldn’t even be close to being considered the classic it is now. So what happened?
The Tragedy
Four years before director Roman Polanski stepped behind the camera to direct “Chinatown,” his pregnant wife Sharon Tate was murdered by the Manson Family.
Sharon Tate was an actress, model, magazine cover girl, and general sixties sex symbol. Her most famous role was in “The Valley of the Dolls,” but her filmography and celebrity at the time was nothing to scoff at. She was also famously outspoken about sex – she considered the censorship of sex to be ridiculous. Hell, she was even the inspiration for “Malibu Barbie,” if the stories are to be believed.
Sharon Tate met Roman Polanski on the set of “Fearless Vampire Killers,” which is a title I can no longer use for my autobiography. The two had a passionate, happy, if tempestuous marriage – Polanski’s infidelity was well documented, and even Tate was quoted as saying “We have an arrangement – Roman lies to me, and I pretend to believe it.” Still, rumors were they had an “open marriage,” rumors Tate did nothing to squash. It was the sixties, man. No judgment.
In 1969, while Polanski was working in London, Sharon Tate (two weeks away from her due date), and four others were stabbed to death by Charles Manson’s band of psychotic cultists in their California home. Victims included friend-of-the-family and Hollywood hairstylist Jay Sebring, childhood friend Wojciech Frykowski and his girlfriend Abigail Folger, along with Steven Parent, an unlucky bastard who happened to be selling a radio to the groundskeeper that night.
The groundskeeper made it out alive, through the power of “hiding and doing nothing,” if (admittedly conflicting) reports are to be believed. The “Badass of the Year” award goes to hairstylist Jay Sebring, who actually went down trying to protect Tate and her baby from the killers.
Roman Polanski was (naturally) devastated, and allowed journalists to take pictures of him in the still bloody home in an attempt to shock the public into coming forward with any information. Eventually, the Manson family were all arrested and convicted – all of the killers but one are still alive, rotting in jail.
Fast-forward four years, and Roman Polanski decides that “Chinatown’s” screenplay only had one problem – that damn happy ending. So they changed it to the crapsack ending we remember today, the one where the girl dies, the bad guys get away, and the protagonist is left alone and disillusioned in a broken world.
“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.”
The Crow
“The Crow” is a 1994 film based on a comic written by James O’Barr. The movie is often called a “cult classic,” which is a little misleading because “The Crow” was a complete financial success, and opened top of the box office.
The flick stars Brandon Lee, Bruce Lee’s son, as an avenging revenant. Eric Draven (Lee) is a rock guitarist who is planning to marry his fiancee, Shelly, on Halloween. The night before Halloween, Detroit hosts what is called “Devil’s Night,” a real-life phenomenon (at the time) where criminals and teenagers go bugnuts crazy and burn derelict buildings down, steal everything that isn't bolted down, assault people, etc.
On Devil’s Night, in the movie, Eric and Shelly are murdered by some jerks who are never arrested. Jump ahead exactly one year, and a mystical crow shows up and brings Eric back to life as a supernatural stalker committed to slaughtering the thugs responsible for his tragedy.
It’s difficult to separate the actual film from the tragedy surrounding it – this entry on the list is unique for not only being inspired by a tragedy but for causing one. Star Brandon Lee was accidentally killed on set by a Rube Goldberg-like string of minor mistakes that would be right at home in a Final Destination movie. Lee even died in the same scene where his character would have died, by exactly the same method – a gunshot wound in the chest.
A fake bullet had been lodged in the barrel of the gun, an incompetent prop guy didn’t check the gun before the scene, the producers had sent the firearm expert home early, and a blank round was fired at Lee’s chest. The powder explosion turned the fake bullet caught in the barrel into a very real bullet, and Lee was killed.
There’s a tragedy on both ends of “The Crow.” Let’s talk about the beginning.
The Tragedy
James O’Barr, the original “Crow” comic’s creator, was 18 years old and engaged to be married to the love of his life. Soon after, his fiancee Bethany was killed by a drunk driver.
Right after Bethany’s death, James O’Barr joined the Marines. While stationed in Berlin in 1981, James entered what he called a “spiral of self-destruction,” drinking heavily and living life like the expiration date was coming up. It wasn’t until O’Barr picked up a newspaper that he decided to put his pain on paper. The story that finally forced him to pick up the pencil was about a young couple in Detroit, who were murdered by muggers over a $20 dollar engagement ring.
That’s three tragedies involved in making “The Crow,” if you’re keeping score at home.
It took seven years for the comic to finally get published. The release of the film, and Brandon Lee’s tragic death put things into perspective for O’Barr.
“It was only after becoming friends with Brandon, experiencing his death, and seeing the film–perhaps 17 times now–that I finally reached what is currently called “closure” while visiting his grave in Seattle.”
IN CLOSING
Pain sucks – but if it’s ever your turn on the Wheel O’ Agony, just remember that there’s always a way to squeeze the poison out. There’s always a path forward, even if it’s choked with frustration and sorrow. Pick up that art machete and hack those vines until you see daylight.
I promise next week’s article will be about, like, baby polar bears and Jolly Ranchers or something.
YOU HAVE EARNED ONE (1) PUPPY
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Read essays, advice, books, and more at bc-johnson.com.
Connect with B.C. Johnson on Twitter @BobbyCJohnson.
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