"Evil Dead" star Bruce Campbell discusses Tom Cruise, idiot film executives, his hilarious debut novel -- and the joys of not being famous.
Jul 14, 2005 | There are some people who don't know who Bruce Campbell is, and there are others who will wait hours in line just to get next to him. The 47-year-old actor's uproarious roles in horror films like "Bubba Ho-Tep" and the essential "Evil Dead" franchise -- which he created along with his high school buddy and fellow Michigan native, director Sam Raimi -- have earned him a dedicated cult following. Indeed, legions of aspiring horror-show nuts have followed Campbell and Raimi, who parleyed his own "Evil Dead" accomplishments into a career helming Hollywood blockbusters like the "Spider-Man" movies, ever since the two do-it-yourselfers first decided to produce and shoot their own films instead of waiting for a billionaire studio to discover them.
"It's the old cliché about grabbing the bull by the horns," Campbell says. "There is no mystery to it, just an incredible amount of elbow grease, and most people just aren't built for that."
To be sure, Campbell's road, which has also included stops behind or in front of the camera at other fandom bonanzas like the "Hercules" and "Xena: Warrior Princess" television series, has not led directly to the Emerald City of the Hollywood mainstream. But that's fine by him. In fact, his new, side-splitting exercise in hard-boiled Hollyweird, "Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way," shows just what kind of chaos can emerge when the straight-shooting icon known mostly by his "Evil Dead" alter ego (the actor-author feels compelled to sign his book jacket "Bruce 'Don't Call Me Ash' Campbell") enters the ranks of the Hollywood elite ruled by stars like Richard Gere and Renée Zellwegger.
Unlike his previous autobiographical tour de force, "If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor" -- which became a national bestseller to the surprise only of those who haven't seen the "Evil Dead" films -- Campbell's newest book is straight-up fiction, a mash-up of noir action and gut-busting humor centered on the artist's long-awaited jump to the Big Time. In the book, he stars with Gere and Zellwegger in a Mike Nichols update of George Cukor's 1960 Marilyn Monroe vehicle, "Let's Make Love," a movie Gregory Peck abandoned because he famously felt the script was "about as funny as pushing Grandma down the stairs in a wheelchair."
"Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way"
By Bruce Campbell
Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin's
309 pages
Fiction
Which, come to think of it, happens to Campbell in his new book, although he's no grandma and it's Richard Gere who eventually does the honors by throwing him down a flight of stairs. Still, that's just a taste of the abuse Campbell undergoes on his quixotic mission to make the A-list. For the entirety of "Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way," its doomed protagonist spends more time getting his ass thoroughly kicked by any number of people rather than doing any actual acting. But perhaps that's the object lesson to be learned in this metafictional exercise in mayhem, which just happens to moonlight as a relationship advice manual of sorts: If you want to make love the Hollywood way, then perhaps you'd better be ready to take a beating.
I caught up with the opinionated and refreshingly honest Campbell by phone from his Oregon home, where he was setting off to visit some local swimming holes before leaving for a four-month promotional tour. It's strange, but besides being one of schlock cinema's enduring supernovas, Campbell is also an environmentalist of sorts; he's currently wrapping up a three-hour documentary called "A Community Speaks," a nonpartisan examination of the thorny issue of land stewardship, which he produced and directed with his wife, costume designer Ida Gearon. (This is especially weird if you remember that this is a guy who starred in a horror classic where an ingénue gets raped by a tree.) But Campbell's tongue is built for more than resting smarmily in his cheek. During our chat, he used it to lambaste Tom Cruise, to explain why yesteryear's stars like Spencer Tracy get no respect, and to confirm for us, once and for all, that "Healthy Forests" is a opportunist's euphemism.
I just finished the book last night and it's hilarious. So I guess the first thing I have to ask you is...
Why did I bother writing it?
Sure, let's go with that.
Well, it seemed like a good thing to do at the time. Honestly, it all boiled down to the fact that it didn't make sense to write anything else that was autobiographical. Mostly because, as I joked in the book, according to my publisher I hadn't done enough to warrant another one. So this was a way to put together material that doesn't fall too far from my tree, so to speak. I'm still a central character in it, and it still takes place in the movie business, but the book is a pseudo-attempt to convince readers that I'm actually going through everything that's in it. And that's basically it. Also, the opportunity to write fiction is always more challenging and fun.
Yeah, I had a hard time separating what I thought was fiction from fact, which made it a blast to read.
Well, I will say this: Of all the characters in the book, probably 90 percent of them could be attributed to someone who's alive. Honestly, the book has many real characters, as well as a whole series of knuckleheads who don't exist. But basically everyone was patterned on someone I had met or come across, whether he or she was in the film business or just some general idiot. And as an actor who gets to travel all over the place to different locations, I can always go, "Yeah, there was this weird place in Dallas that I remember." Which is great, because the problem with writers is that some of them never leave the house. I would encourage any writer to do this thing called traveling.
The book seems to indirectly put across the idea that a guy like you, who's beloved by tons of fans, doesn't deserve to hobnob with the A-listers on a Mike Nichols movie.
I know, but it's also a way to say, "You wanna put me in the A league? Here's what would really happen!" But overall it's a way of saying, "Don't worry about me."