6/1/23
Newsletter #354
The Crack of Dawn
I considered changing his name, then thought, “What the hell. Sue me, sue me, shoot bullets through me. What can you do me?” Honestly, I am paying tribute to someone I respect, except that I think he’s kind of a dick. I don’t hold that against him.
Way the hell back at Camp Tamakwa, 50 years ago, summer after summer, to my chagrin, I’d have Mike Binder in my cabin. Mike was a chubby redhead who kept challenging me for the lead role in the camp play and kept losing. I got the lead in: You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown; Hello, Dolly; then Grease, and each time that Mike didn’t get it, he got furious. In any case, we knew each other, but we weren’t friends.
Mike was every bit as precocious as me, and we were the first two Michiganders our age to move to Hollywood in 1976. I called him soon after I arrived, and he gave me my first Hollywood blow-off, saying in so many words, “Don’t call me, I’ll call you . . . when hell freezes over.”
Mike pursued acting, writing, directing, and stand-up comedy. He became part of an impressive wave of comedians at that point, which included: Gary Shandling, Tim Thomerson (who ended up on Xena), Gallagher, Jay Leno, and Bob Saget, among many others. Sam Raimi and I went and saw Binder at a very nice venue, the Royal Oak Theater, around the time we were shooting Evil Dead, like 1980, and though he didn’t kill, he did fine. Mike’s funny.
Mike is way more of a hustler than I ever was, plus he’s more diverse. After beating him out for the lead parts at camp, I gave up acting. Mike kept acting, and in the early 1980s, he began popping up in movies in small parts. Then a script of his was produced, Coupe de Ville (1990), then he began getting writer-director deals like, Crossing the Bridge (1992) and Indian Summer (1993), which is about Camp Tamakwa (I’m the Bill Paxton character, the guy who got thrown out of camp more than anyone else — named Jack Belson—who ends up with Diane Lane), and Sam Raimi is in it. Alan Arkin was a terrific choice for the camp’s owner, Lou Handler. Mike would later write and direct The Upside of Anger (2005) with Kevin Costner, and Reign Over Me (2007) with Adam Sandler and Don Cheadle. Mike got somewhere in Hollywood. He had his own HBO series for one season, The Mind of the Married Man (2001-2002).
Mike’s cousin Sue was the office manager for Sam and Rob for a number of years. Sue, who is quite a good cook, would often have Thanksgiving parties. Mike and his wife and kids would always attend. Even though we never really hit it off, and he resented me for getting the parts he wanted when we were kids, I’ve always found Mike to be a kind of wickedly funny guy. And now I’m going to make fun of him.
This is really just an example of how people can become directors coming from completely different perspectives. Whether you come from writing or editing or shooting or stand-up comedy, directing is still the same job.
At a Thanksgiving party at Sue’s house, Mike pulled me aside and in a serious, hushed tone asked, “Do you really know the difference between the lenses?” I nodded, “Yes.” He looked like he didn’t believe me. “Really? All of them?” I said, “Mike, there aren’t that many. A whole box of lenses is like six or eight lenses.” Nevertheless, Mike seemed disturbed by the whole idea of lenses, “But you know the difference?” I said, “Yes. Some are wide, some are long.” He whispered, “I don’t know the difference. And you know what? I don’t want to know. I don’t care.” I didn’t care either, but I was amused. I explained, “Mike, any lens under 50mm is wide; any lens over 50mm is long.” He shook his head, “I don’t want to know. That’s for the cameraman.” I said, “OK, you don’t have to.” And many directors who came to directing from writing or acting or being a producer or being an agent, don’t know their lenses. But it’s not like learning the Periodic Table, or even the U.S. presidents since 1900. Or even since 1960. I mean, shit, you can’t learn six things? A standard lens kit is usually: 24mm, 28mm, 35mm, 50mm, 75mm and 100mm. That’s not brain surgery.
Anyway, Mike Binder did all right for himself in Hollywood, even if he wouldn’t learn his lenses. He got much further into the Hollywood hierarchy than I did.
But wait, there’s more. When Mike was making the one season of his HBO show, Mind of the Married Man (that co-starred Steven Baldwin, who would later star in a one of my films), we both attended a party at house of Rob Tapert and Lucy Lawless. Mike and I ended up talking, and he began complaining about trying to keep up with a TV schedule which was a lot faster than movies. Please keep in mind that an HBO series has at least double the budget and schedule of a normal TV show. So, I listened and nodded, attempting to appear sympathetic when I absolutely wasn’t. Mike must have gotten my vibe, and said, “You wouldn’t have this problem, would you?” I shook my head, “No. And we shoot a lot more difficult shit than you do. Fight scenes, horses, wire work, digital effects. You’re just shooting people talking in rooms. What’s the problem?”
Well, I guess this insulted him, which isn’t surprising. And the way he got me back, which I didn’t understand, was by immediately saying, “If you directed my show, you’d go faster?” And I said, “Absolutely.” He said, “Then why don’t you come by the set Monday morning, and we’ll talk about it.”
Oddly, he was shooting in an office building a couple of blocks from where I lived in Santa Monica. I showed up at about 9:00 AM, and his set was a shit-show. Too many people not knowing what they were doing. Bob Saget was directing. He got to directing from stand-up, then reality show host. Good old Mike then kept me waiting all day long. Mike generally co-produces with his brother. They finally interviewed me at about 3:00 PM, sitting in chairs directly behind video village (the video monitors), where Bob Saget was sitting. With Bob six inches away, Mike asked me, “So, what would you do differently?” Of course, I would have done everything differently, but I couldn’t talk. They didn’t want me to talk. They weren’t going to hire me, and it didn’t matter anyway because they probably already knew that they were cancelled.
Since there was no way to go any slower than they were going, except by stopping, it would certainly have gone faster if I were directing, although it probably wouldn’t have gotten any better. However, and I didn’t think this up, if you’re shooting shit, you may as well do it quickly.
A good day to you and yours.