Originally published in the August 2018 issue of (614) Magazine
Photo by Collins Laastch
Scott Mulhollen stared at the screen in silent disbelief. With only an hour notice, he’d received a tip on an eBay auction too good to be true. As the clock ticked away with only seconds to spare, he made his first and only bid.
He took a moment to let the win sink in, then he picked up
the phone to confirm it was all really happening. The stranger who
answered seemed somber, then his wife got on the line and was clearly
confused. She didn’t even know her husband was selling it.
“Who is this?” she asked again, to which he politely replied, “I’m Scott, the guy who just bought your DeLorean.”
Graciously offering to back out of the sale, Mulhollen learned the car was the couple’s first purchase together when they were wed in 1982 and had been meticulously maintained ever since. But now retired and downsizing, it was time to move on.
“I didn’t have the heart to tell them what I was going to
do to their car. You never know how someone is going to react,” he
recalled. “So I chose to respect their memories, assuring them I was
going to take care of it as lovingly as they had, that it wasn’t going
to a chop shop or flipper.”
Mulhollen wasn’t kidding. He loves the car, and has his whole life. But he’s no classic car aficionado or broker of automotive ephemera intent on turning a quick buck.
“You rarely find a car this pristine and well preserved, and never at this price,” Mulhollen explained, whose bid was well above the $28,500 he actually paid. “The guy who owned it before me was an electrical engineer and stripped the entire car and rewired it, because DeLoreans were known for sometimes catching on fire. Collectors want everything original, so I was the only bidder.”
That was hardly the end of the upgrades. It’s taken nearly 30 years and a small fortune to realize the vision of his adolescence. But after months of delays and painstaking modifications, Scott Mulhollen is now the owner of a bona fide time machine.
“I remember sitting in the theater as a kid watching Back to the Future and dreaming about someday owning ‘that car,’” he confessed.
Mulhollen now runs his own self-defense school, which often requires connecting with kids who aren’t always easy to reach. A long-time collector of iconic ’80s memorabilia, his office is more of a museum dedicated to his childhood, from Garfield to Ghostbusters. Not just trinkets either — everything from autographed animation cells to a legit proton pack. Even his martial arts background and enthusiasm for teaching grew out of his own experience with bullying. He was an actual Karate Kid who defied more than a few naysayers and turned a calling into a career. “When kids come here, it helps to let them know I was just like them,” he explained. “But there was still that one big dream that remained out of reach.”
For those of a certain age, it’s almost impossible to overstate how beloved Back to the Future is as both a personal and pop cultural milestone. I was an exchange student to Japan in the summer of ’86 and my host brother had a bootleg recording of just the audio from Back to the Future he’d played on his Walkman nearly nonstop for a year before I arrived. It’s essentially how he learned English. We’re still in touch, and can still exchange every line of dialogue even decades later.
“When I was initially considering all of this, I knew it had to be a business to make sense, but one that enabled me to share this passion with others and make a positive impact,” he recalled. “With the right combination of private rentals and charity events, I knew I could make it work.”
It cost nearly twice as much to convert the car as he’d paid for it, and it shows. It looks handmade, which it is and as it should. There’s a delicate balance to creating cinematic replicas. Too stingy and it feels cheap. Too polished and it feels mass-produced. Perhaps only the Batmobile is as indelible down to the most exacting detail. Complete with lighting and sound effects, diodes and doodads, Marty McFly himself couldn’t tell the difference.
“When the film’s prop makers were designing the car, they wanted it to look like something Doc Brown could have made in his garage,” he explained. “It took the builder seven months, and even then, he’d have taken another month or two if I let him.”
Once you get past the heavy price tag, the sticker shock gives way to immediate envy. Plenty of people spend as much or more on a midlife crisis car that no one wants to have over for their birthday party or private gathering. You could have just another Tesla, or you could have a time machine and folks will gladly pay you to come hang out for a few hours.
“My goal is three years to pay off the car, a few big gigs and we’ll get there,” he noted. “The car isn’t really an expense; it’s an investment that holds its value. I could sell it tomorrow and still make money on the deal.”
Delays in the conversion pushed the debut until just after Ready Player One’s premiere — which was unfortunate, but not tragic. Summer commitments like Ohio Comic Con and a recent al fresco screening of Back to the Future at the Gateway Film Center were already booked, and events to raise funds for children’s charities and Parkinson’s research were also in the works. But blockbuster blowouts aren’t the only option to get up close and personal with a piece of the past, or the future.
“I have a woman coming down today from Toledo with her husband to see the car, and he has no idea. Those are the reactions that are priceless,” Mulhollen said. “People get emotional, they get overwhelmed. I’ve had people cry before, whether you’re a CEO or the guy who operates the forklift. They may be in their forties, but when they sit in this car, suddenly they’re 10 again. It really is a time machine.” ▩
For scheduled events and private rental details, visit ohiotimemachinerental.com
Originally published in the June 2018 issue of (614) Magazine
Bryan Michael Block wasn’t surprised when the phone rang, but it wasn’t the call he was expecting. The conversation was short, but sufficient. He opened the door to his closet and grabbed a gray-striped tie and weathered leather jacket to make sure he looked the part of a police detective. There was a serial killer, it was his job to stop him, and the clock was ticking. But this wasn’t any ordinary case. The murder he was called to solve was his own.
Block has an unsettling stature when the situation requires it. Imagine the disheveled understatement of Harrison Ford in Blade Runner amplified
by the ominous presence of Vincent D’Onofrio on a bad day. That grim
and gritty look is the reason he was originally cast as the lead actor
in the ambitious and acclaimed science-fiction series Aidan 5, which recently returned with its long-awaited second season after starting as a short nearly a decade ago.
“We didn’t know what genre was going to
get pulled out of that hat. It could have been a western or a romance.
With the 48-Hour Film Project it could have been anything,” recalled
Block, whose impulsive and intuitive wardrobe selection set the tone for
the lead character. “When they pulled sci-fi, that’s when they decided
to make a futuristic film noir.”
Professional and lifelong friendships often intersect with
the 48-Hour Film Project, an international competition where local
teams squeeze the entire motion picture production process into just two
days.
“After the acting was done against a
green screen, the backgrounds were drawn and scanned in,” Block
explained. “It was really just pen and pencil on a sketch pad, cut up in
Photoshop, and dropped into a timeline.”
The finished film was low tech, but high concept — a composite comic book look more akin to Sin City than
an A-ha music video. Audiences and the industry took notice, making the
rounds online and at larger festivals, eventually making it all the way
to Cannes. Even William Shatner tweeted his approval of its innovative
techniques and technology with the envious interrogative, “Why aren’t I
in it?”
“Ben Bays, who is also a producer here in
town, approached us after the 48 about turning it into a web series,
how we needed to take this world and expand it,” he explained. “That’s
when we started to explore the details and fill in the blanks on the
future we’d created.”
The original series opens in 2064 with
Detective James Aidan standing over his own corpse, one of several
clones with which Block appears on screen simultaneously, stitched
together digitally in post-production. A world where cloning is
commonplace was a crucial creative device and plot point that propels
the now 30-episode series. The entire production was created and
executed in Columbus essentially as a community film project, with a
cast and crew too numerous to name.
“Season One was shot for no money and was cobbled
together. But we had a lot of help between favors, friends, and
filmmakers willing to show up for several Saturdays,” Block noted.
“Season Two is three and a half hours. Add that to the three hours of
Season One and we have four feature films worth of finished content.”
The new season is still set in the same
dystopian future, and also employed the signature green screen meets
black box theater approach. But unlike the original short or the first
series that followed, Season Two took several years to complete, funded
through Kickstarter to build interest and cover incidentals.
Filming took place in Columbus as well,
minus one notable cameo that was almost too good to be true — Richard
Hatch, best known for roles in both the original and reimagined reboot
of Battlestar Galactica, but also a passionate supporter of streaming series, podcasts, and similar emerging storytelling platforms.
“We reached out to him, but knew it was a long shot. Even
though his scene was small, it was pivotal. We sent him the script and
he said he really liked the series and the part,” revealed Bays,
showrunner and executive producer of Aidan 5. “He specifically
mentioned one of the reasons he was doing it was because he was so
impressed with the production and performances in Season One and liked
working on projects with up-and-coming talent.”
Schedules didn’t align to shoot Hatch’s scene here. But a
green screen can be anywhere, so you’d never know Hatch was in L.A.
while Bays directed remotely.
“I just Skyped in and directed over a laptop,” Bays added.
“There is even a cast photo of everyone in the studio with Richard and
someone is holding up a laptop with my face on the other end.”
Aside from consistent studio space, the
second season also piqued the interest of local talent, with more than
40 speaking parts and dozens of extras populating their imaginary world.
Even the late John Kuhn, artistic director of the Actors’ Theatre of
Columbus read for a role.
“It was the first time we’d ever met him
and his voice captivated us. He had such gravitas we decided to create a
villain around it,” recalled Block, whose contributions also included
casting and helping to create the series backstory. “His performance and
reputation gave Aidan 5 a lot of legitimacy in the local the
theater community, and the episodic nature allowed us to feature local
actors in scenes where everyone felt like a guest star.”
As for the final fate of James Aidan and his clones, Bays
confirmed the series was always intended to be a trilogy — but we may
have to wait a while before the next installment of episodes, just so
everyone can catch their collective breath.
“One of the things about Aidan 5 that we love most is that it is so collaborative. It really is a group of friends working together with the local acting community to create something greater than any of us could do on our own,” explained Bays. “Whether it’s someone like Richard Hatch from L.A. or someone local like John Kuhn, the series creates an outlet for filmmakers, writers, and actors to be a part of something that puts Columbus on the map.” ▩
Originally published in the April 2018 issue of (614) Magazine
As counterintuitive as it sounds, the greatest challenge any city has breaking into the film business isn’t film anymore—it’s bandwidth.
Motion pictures, as they’re less commonly called these days, are no longer a succession of still images deceiving the eyes at 24 frames per second. They’re a stream of encrypted elections protected like state secrets. The online release of an early edit of X-Men Origins: Wolverine (minus most visual effects) not only hurt the theatrical release, but was a warning shot felt throughout the industry. Hugh Jackman’s cigar-chomping alter ego may be bulletproof, but his box office appeal remains very mortal in the age of file sharing. Television isn’t immune either. A couple of years earlier, one of the best pilots never to make it into production was Global Frequency. Based on the comic book series of the same name, Warner Brothers execs were so perturbed by its leak through then-new torrenting technology, they put a swift end to the show before it even started.
That’s why Ohio Film Group is very particular about their post-production. Their local studios offer unmatched speed and security through their own secret internet of sorts, easily integrating studio quality capabilities into productions often thousands of miles away — all in an instant.
“We’re a hub on Sohonet, which is a private internet media-based company that allows us to move dense, heavy data from our facility all over the world securely and quickly,” explained Leonard Hartman, president of Ohio Film Group. “We can move a feature length film — hundreds of terabytes — to New York, L.A., or Paris as fast as walking it across the hall.”
Ohio State football fans may recognize that name. The former offensive lineman turned educator and coach launched his second act in Los Angeles at the American Film Institute, eventually establishing himself as a screenwriter and producer. But after starting a family, the practical challenges of life in L.A. and frequent trips back to Ohio to visit extended family made moving back here and occasionally flying there a better option. It’s a long commute, but one that keeps getting shorter thanks to technology that helps him to be there, even when he’s not.
“It allows us to stay connected to a community of creatives in a way they trust. It’s best in class, and we’re part of the network,” Hartman explained. “It allows us to stay connected with decision-makers in New York and L.A. in a way we couldn’t even a few years ago. It makes us relevant.”
Ohio Film Group’s start was as cinematic as Field of Dreams. It may have seemed like a crazy idea to build a production facility in Ohio, especially to studio executives who probably presume Columbus isn’t far from that fabled cornfield. “Build it, and they will come” wasn’t their strategy, but that’s exactly what happened. Projects that easily, if not surely, would have gone elsewhere landed here—including Aftermath, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. The speed and security of Ohio Film Group’s “big pipe” made a big difference in the decision to shoot here and stay here.
“We had 20 producers watching the dailies all over the world, watching what was happening here—giving notes, giving feedback—involved in the process from afar,” recalled Hartman. “They could watch the film being made and interact with the team on the ground. That’s just how it’s done now. If you can’t do that, you’re not part of the game.”
That’s not hype or hyperbole. Hollywood has quickly become a shell of its former self, much like the fake city streets and storefront facades that are all plywood and paint, but empty inside. Even those have become ghost towns as actual production has all but left California for tax credits elsewhere. It’s a gold rush in reverse.
“I was at Paramount not too long ago working on a film talking to one of the producers there who said they had a film shooting on the lot for the first time in five years,” noted Hartman. “They’d had a couple TV shows, but they hadn’t shot a movie on the backlot at Paramount for five years? That’s telling. Tax credits are entry-level. If you don’t have them, you’re not in the business. Canada started it years ago, and Georgia has figured it out for sure. Ohio has them, but the way they are structured could use some work.”
The trick with tax credits for film projects is that they are intended to create jobs, but often those jobs don’t last. They tend to be turn-and-burn positions instead of the ongoing ground-level gigs that are the foundation of a persistent film industry.
“If you’re looking at how you develop an entertainment community, it has to be more than productions that fly in for the tax credits, then fly back out. The real advantage is when those productions stay here, when people live here—buy houses, buy cars, buy groceries,” he explained. “Building facilities is how that happens. That’s a much better return on investment for Ohio taxpayers.”
That’s also why would-be film cities set their sights on television instead of just films. Having a TV series creates jobs that stick around long after the blockbusters close up shop. It may not seem as sexy, but it’s steady work.
“Hollywood isn’t just directors and actors. It’s the people who do all of the other stuff. It’s the grips and the carpenters, the set and costume designers—the worker bees. The only way you entice those people to uproot their families and move to Columbus is to have jobs that don’t go away in 30 days,” noted Hartman. “That’s what Atlanta has done; that’s what Vancouver has done—and there are people leaving L.A. everyday because there’s more work in cities that have that permanent creative class.”
Sadly, Columbus is sort of its own secret, and that’s still a challenge. Whether it’s our modest demeanor or Midwestern work ethic, we don’t brag about ourselves often enough. That’s the trouble with branding. You brand yourself, or someone else will.
“When I talk to people in the industry who have never been to Columbus, they don’t get it. They worry about whether they’ll be able to find anywhere to eat, or cows walking down the street. But if we can get them to come here, then they get it,” he explained. “When you show them the city, they’re surprised. They see the development in and around downtown, how we’re a vibrant city, a vital city. They start to see us like they used to see Portland or Austin just a few years ago. We’ve had clients in from Toronto who remark how much Columbus actually reminds them of Toronto.”
That’s why Ohio Film Group is recruiting technical talent from both coasts and abroad back to Columbus from heavy-hitters like Disney, Rhythm and Hues, and Industrial Light & Magic.
“One thing that makes Ohio more attractive is our cost of living is at least 30 percent less than New York, L.A., or even Atlanta. Every day I get a call from someone in one of those markets who says they’d love to come back to Columbus because of the quality of life and the bang they get for their dollar is so much better,” he revealed. “If we’re serious about the creative class and supporting a local film industry, it’s going to take creative thinking. You can buy all of this—the equipment, the fiber runs, all of it—but it still comes down to people. We’re always looking for the right projects, but we’re also looking for the right people.” ▩
For more about the OFG’s team and their projects, visit ofgpost.com.
Originally published in the March 2018 issue of (614) Magazine
Aftermath, 2017. Photo By Brian Douglas/Courtesy Lionsgate Premiere
It’s no surprise action heroes are Hollywood’s single greatest export.
Amid wildfires, mudslides, drought, and rolling blackouts, it’s a wonder the filmmaking capital of the world has survived any better than its on-screen alter ego, regularly ravaged by everything from earthquakes to alien invasions. The cost of living is untenable, the traffic is intolerable, even the most groundbreaking feature film of last year was titled simply Get Out — and like most movies and television series these days, it wasn’t filmed there either.
California has in many ways become the star of its own disaster film. How can you tell? After years of economic malaise and mismanagement, the voters there actually asked Arnold Schwarzenegger to save them, and maybe we in Columbus should too.
This year marks the 30th anniversary of the Arnold Sports Festival, held the first weekend of this month. What started three decades ago as the Arnold Classic, the former bodybuilding championship has ballooned into a four-day health and fitness expo celebrating more than 75 established and obscure sports, from fencing to axe throwing.
But Schwarzenegger’s ties to Central Ohio run much deeper than just a long weekend once a year.
Back in 1970, Worthington Mayor Jim Lorimer invited a 23-year-old Austrian bodybuilder to the World Weightlifting Championship’s new Mr. World competition in Columbus to vie for the title and a cash prize of $500.
Arnold passed. The three-time consecutive winner of the Mr. Universe competition was already scheduled to defend his title in London, but Lorimer wasn’t taking no for an answer. He offered to fly Schwarzenegger back from London to Columbus immediately after the event there so he could compete.
Outside the then close-knit bodybuilding community, Arnold was just some guy who struggled to shop off the rack. That was all about to change. He won both Mr. Universe and Mr. World in the same weekend, a feat that was featured on ABC’s wildly popular Wide World of Sports, introducing him to his largest audience to date.
Schwarzenegger confided in Lorimer his dream of sponsoring his own tournament after he retired from the sport, and a seed was planted. After hosting several successful Mr. Olympia competitions here in the ’70s, and a brief acting hiatus in the early ’80s, Arnold ultimately launched his own competition in Columbus 30 years ago this month.
So what does that have to do with our fledgling film industry? More than you think.
Arnold has become an ambassador for Columbus for more than just sports. His annual health and fitness expo celebrates the city as much as the events and athletes. His own celebrity doesn’t just rub off on us; he’s helped introduce us to new audiences, just like we did for him with that first Mr. World competition.
He could have talked his action hero buddies Sylvester Stallone and Bruce Willis into opening Planet Movies anywhere on Earth, the motion picture rival to Hard Rock Café that coupled a Planet Hollywood restaurant with an upscale movie theater complex. But he chose Easton Town Center, and even though the concept was short-lived, the investment and effort shouldn’t be forgotten.
Action heroes also have a reputation for formulaic personas from one film to the next. Schwarzenegger is the exception, never afraid to try something unexpected or face the critics if an endeavor falls flat.
Yes, he’s been a barbarian, a commando, a spy, a hitman, and a killer cyborg from the future. But he’s also been a kindergarten teacher, Danny DeVito’s genetic better half, and even pregnant. His blockbuster appeal hasn’t stopped him from making fun of his own typecasting or being cast against type. Recent performances in Maggie as the protective father of girl slowly succumbing to a global pandemic that turns victims into zombies, and in Aftermath as an anguished survivor determined to avenge his family’s death from a mid-air collision, show an unexpected range and depth.
As soon as you think you know Arnold, he’s going to do something to prove you wrong.
How did your experience with the Arnold Classic influence the decision to shoot the film Aftermath here? What makes Columbus ideal as an emerging film city?
Columbus is a fantastic place for anything and everything. I’ve spent time in Columbus for 48 years through our bodybuilding championship, that then developed into the world championships in many different sports through our sport and fitness festival. It’s a perfect place that I use as an example, where the private sector and public sector work really well together. They’re very well coordinated. There’s no “we” against “them.” It’s always “us,” and it’s always what is best for the community. It doesn’t matter if it’s Republicans or Democrats in office, they all know they ultimately have to serve in a way to bring more businesses here. I have seen the great growth of the Arnold Classic and how dedicated the city officials are, and also the people at the state level. They’ve helped us every step of the way to make the Arnold Classic Sports and Fitness Festival successful. This is how it became the biggest in the world. This year we have 20,000 participants from 80 different nations. It’s gigantic, and we wouldn’t be able to do it anywhere else than Columbus.
When I did the movie Aftermath, I told the production company when there was a debate about should we go to Atlanta, or New Mexico, or Cleveland, I said to them, “Look, let me explain to you a little about Columbus…”. I told them basically what I told you. It’s an extraordinary place, and that I’ve talked to the mayor many times, the governor many times, and they all said if you come here with a production, we will help you because we want to establish ourselves as a city where you should go to shoot movies. Big movies, small movies, documentaries, whatever you want to do. So I took the risk. I said, “I’m not going to do the movie unless we shoot it in Columbus.” They decided to investigate, to check into it, and this is why after looking around, talking to the film commission, they realized this is a very friendly place where they are opening up their arms to productions. So we shot the movie here and the producers walked away absolutely delighted with one of the best experiences they’ve ever had.
My idea was that this would be the opening, and those production people would go to Hollywood and tell others about it. That’s exactly what happened.
This is why I think it’s a great place. Because people work together, they work tirelessly. People are talented here — the stage crew, the people who build sets — they’re energetic, they’re passionate. This is something you cannot buy. It’s not just tax credits. I made this clear, Columbus maybe doesn’t have the best tax credits, but you will get your money’s worth in many other ways, and it paid off.
Why is it important to take risks in film? Why do actors need to take risks, why do filmmakers need to take risks? Why is it important to get out of your box?
I don’t think there’s a difference from one field to another. One cannot say, why do you need to take risks in movies, why do you need to take risks in the parts that you play, what genre of movies you make? There are people who love to take risks, and there are people who like to play it safe. I think I’ve always been a person who thrives on risk. When I started in bodybuilding back in Austria they said, “You’ll never be a bodybuilder. Austrians are known for soccer and skiing. But bodybuilding? Forget it.” But I took the risk. It’s no different than taking the risk of running for governor. In movies, you have to take risks. Hollywood is a place that loves to put you in a box. You’re the action guy. You’re going to make action movies, and you’re going to do one script after the next — which I did, and that was very successful during the ’80s and ’90s. But there’s a time when I’ve done enough of that, after I’ve satisfied the studios’ needs, to show that I can do other things, that there’s a different Arnold in there than most people know. So I take the risk.
When I did Twins, I said to the studio, I know you don’t want to put much money behind this like an action movie. They said they wanted to make a minimum amount, and I said, “Then, don’t pay me? I’ll take the risk. It’s my first comedy. Why don’t you not pay me or the director or Danny DeVito, and just give us the back end?” We took that risk and it was my most successful movie at that time in my life, and I had a backend of 20 percent.
You couldn’t ever get that deal today. It was all about being able to take that risk.
When you get to be more mature, with age you’re much more believable to play a father in Aftermath or in Maggie, with more acting than action. When you’re younger and an action star, they won’t write material like this for you. They write scenes with great action, but they won’t write scenes with great dialogue and great character building. That’s just the way it is. For me, it was great to take those risks whether it’s Aftermath and Maggie, or Twins and Kindergarten Cop and Junior. I wanted to branch out because there is a side of me that is also like that. So I think taking risks in which parts you take and which productions you choose is absolutely essential.
Typecasting is tough to escape, with studios and with audiences. Is there a role or genre of film that you haven’t done and would like to?
We’re putting together a western. I’ve never really done one, and I’ve always wanted to do a western. It’s being developed with Amazon and it’s going to be eight segments, like a miniseries. It’s a terrific project — very intense, action-packed, great characters. We’ll most likely start shooting next year. It’s being written right now. This year, I’m going to be shooting Terminator in Spain, and Budapest, Hungary. We’re finalizing the script for Triplets, which will be a sequel to Twins with Eddie Murphy as the third twin brother.
The industry and audiences are still divided over the use of computer generated versions of real actors and actresses. As someone who has starred opposite a CGI version of his younger self twice, what’s your opinion on the use and future of computer generated actors?
I want to see movies that are thoroughly entertaining. I don’t look at it as whether it’s computer generated or not. Wise directors like James Cameron who use visual effects will make sure those things he can do in real life, he will shoot in real life. I think if it is well done, it’s okay to use the technology because that’s why it was developed in the first place, to be able to entertain people better. If the script says the Terminator looks exactly the same as he did in 1984, the reality is that my body doesn’t look the same as it did in 1984. So whether you computer generate it, or use someone else’s body, or they enhance your body, or use someone else’s body and put your face on it, depending on what the script says, it may be the only way you can do it. In Conan the Barbarian, I had to fight a giant snake. You could tell that it was mechanically operated, and people didn’t mind because it was the only technology available then. Computer generated technology has a very important part in movie making. I don’t mind it at all if I get enhanced one way or another to look younger — like if my character is supposed to be 50, instead of 70 — any help I can get, I’ll take it.
Speaking of reboots,I’d be remiss not to ask if King Conan rumors are true. Is there another Conan installment we can look forward to with an elder Conan?
That is correct. Those movies were really big hits way back when. It’s a theme in Hollywood, to come back to titles that are well-known. Independent companies take risks with production titles no one has ever heard of or that are new. But studios like recognizable names. That’s why Twins is becoming Triplets, it’s why they’re now writing King Conan, which is why there’s a Terminator 6 — which is all good for me, to keep those franchises alive.
Some parents push their kids into their own profession. Others push them away. The upcoming release of Midnight Sun is your son Patrick’s first starring role. How do you feel about him getting into the family business?
I never discouraged him from going into the movie business. I think it’s a great business to be in. But I also make it clear to all of my kids — no matter which field they get into — they have to be smart with business, and they have to be smart with money. My son is very serious about acting, but he’s also very serious as a businessman. He’s always been entrepreneurial. While I’m proud of him and his work in the movies, I’m also proud of him and his work outside the movies — so that he never ends up being vulnerable. It’s important to have a passion for acting, but it’s also important to be financially independent — not having to sell out and take a role just because they offer good money. He’s really serious about acting, but he’s also really smart about it. I was so proud when I saw his movie, and I think people are going to be surprised by his performance.
As a Midwestern city, Columbus can pretend to be anywhere on film, but many filmmakers don’t realize it. How practical is it to shoot here instead of more familiar film cities?
Columbus has so many different sides to it. When we shot Aftermath, we had no problem finding any backdrops whatsoever. The plane crash site was done a little bit outside of Columbus, we shot in a jail and had free reign over that location. You can find government buildings and high-rises, dangerous looking alleys. If it’s a modern looking shopping mall, there’s Easton Town Center. If you want to find a nice Spielbergian kind of community like you see in many of his movies, you have that in Columbus. You literally have everything that you need. I don’t think there is anything anyone would say you don’t have. If you’re shooting a movie that takes place in New York, I would highly recommend you shoot 95 percent of the movie in Columbus. Five percent of the movie — all of the exteriors, walking on 42nd Street or Broadway, or Central Park or aerial shots of the city — you go to New York to shoot that. But the rest it? You can shoot it all in Columbus. ▩
The 30th annual Arnold Classic will take place March 1 – 4. Aftermath is available for rent on iTunes, Amazon and YouTube.
Originally published in the March 2018 issue of (614) Magazine
I Am Wrath by Brian Douglas
A rare mix of quintessential and gritty interiors and exteriors, and accidental advantages of geography, should make our city ripe for the red carpet. Creating a permanent production presence in the heart of Ohio is fundamental to attracting the caliber of projects and professionals necessary to escape the cycle of movies that blow through town, but are out in 30 days or less—spending welcome dollars for sure, but not exactly adding to our capacity or credibility as a “film city.”
Atlanta has recently reinvented itself as a production powerhouse, rivaling Los Angeles and New York last year for films and television series both within its municipal borders and throughout Georgia. It was an investment years in the making that required a fair amount of faith and financing from the public and private sector to achieve. Just like the latest breakout stars on the big screen, overnight success is hardly ever so. Perseverance, pluck, and a lot of luck play into landing that one big role that suddenly changes everything.
Maybe our time as well has finally come.
“It’s surprising how many people there are from Ohio, and even from Columbus, who are in the industry and want to bring projects back here,” explained John Daugherty, executive director of the Columbus Film Commission. Facilitating production is the primary charge of any film commission, but Columbus is committed to tapping into the collaborative spirit and creative connectivity that distinguish the capital city even from nearby rivals Cleveland and Cincinnati.
“That’s what makes us unique—we bring people together. When someone calls me with an issue in the middle of production, I can usually get on the phone and have a solution in ten minutes because everyone in the industry here wants to help us succeed.”
Columbus also has the benefit of being a burgeoning locale for filmmaking, not one that has been exhaustively overshot for decades. What we may lack in iconic landmarks or familiar facades we more than make up for in backdrops that have yet to be discovered. We may not have the Statue of Liberty or the Bradbury Building, but we also don’t have the baggage that comes with them.
“There’s a lot of newness and freshness, vibrancy to the city. When we talk to producers about shooting here, there is some initial vetting to determine what they want and need,” Daugherty explained. “Then they come in and we show them the locations we have to offer. Once I get them here, it’s a pretty easy sell.”
Often described as a city of neighborhoods, the distinctive style from one to the next allows us to easily pose for another time or place. Period pieces and contemporary stories share the need for immediately transporting an audience. Communities of craftsman homes, quaint 60s suburbs, and more modern urban row houses are all within minutes of each other. From stately Victorian homes on both sides of downtown to picturesque country manors an easy drive away, there probably isn’t another city in the country with a better or broader range of residential architecture. German Village’s narrow brick homes and cobblestone streets could easily pass for Germany itself.
As evidenced by I Am Wrath, even our old barbershops look badass with the right lighting—decidedly, and ironically, unfamiliar. Though impressive locations are only part of the package.
“Because Cleveland, Cincinnati, even Pittsburgh are just a couple of hours away, we can pull crew and gear to Columbus when we need it,” he said, noting that our proximity creates the potential to tap into more robust film resources in surrounding cities, but also to lend our talent and tools as an interim step toward building our own sustainable industry. “If you’re shooting in Cleveland and have to drive to Cincinnati for a piece of equipment, that’s an all-day trip. We use our central location to market Columbus over both as a built-in benefit.”
Though there is certainly rivalry among the big three cities competing for productions, there is also common cause when it comes to tax credits. A staple for states like California, New York, and Georgia (and all of Canada), legislators hoping to create work in motion pictures and television offer various incentives for projects tied to the jobs they generate.
“I keep mentioning Cleveland and Cincinnati because they have their own film commissions that have been around longer than ours, and we all compete for the same pot of money,” Daugherty admitted. “But that’s also one of the areas where we’ve been working together, to raise that tax credit. We’ve increased it from $20 million to $40 million. However, because of the way the tax credit is structured, one production can come in a wipe that all out.”
Daugherty is advocating a restructuring of the program to ensure that doesn’t happen. He’d like to see something more in-line with what other states have done to protect their incentives and prevent huge projects from tapping the entire fund, thus cutting out smaller productions that really rely on it. Capping the maximum amount of credit per project, creating an earmark for Ohio-based productions, or pinning payouts to the number of permanent jobs created are all means used elsewhere to achieve the intended effect.
“Attracting film productions is fine, but that’s not all the tax credit was for. I think most legislators would agree it’s for cultivating and building businesses and production companies that live and breathe in the state,” he explained. “But that’s a process that takes time.”
Sometimes it’s the little things that impress. One concept created to help make Columbus more inviting for filmmakers is a simple card good for discounts on dining and transportation for visiting productions. Daugherty credits the “crew card” for recently drawing at least one producer’s attention away from Cleveland toward Columbus. Hospitality matters.
Investments aren’t always economic. Maintaining relationships with those working in the film industry with Columbus ties is also a long-term proposition, but one that Daugherty hopes can create a recurring series of projects.
“Growing relationships takes longer than landing one film. I’d like to see producers return with future films as well,” he said. “We’re also considering options for an expat incentive to lure filmmakers with local ties to return to Columbus—moving expenses perhaps, enough to give someone that last push they may need to move back.”
Closing the crew gap is a key concern for the Columbus Film Commission. It’s difficult to attract and retain talent without enough work, and challenging to attract enough work unless we already have the local talent required.
“We can still supply smaller productions in Columbus, and larger ones by borrowing crew and equipment from surrounding cities,” he noted. “But a lot of our crew are also working in the commercial industry, which sometimes limits their availability for visiting film projects.”
Much like photographers who shoot weddings on the side so they can afford to follow their passion projects with less pressure to pay the bills, commercial filmmaking is the proving ground and steady paycheck for a lot of local filmmakers.
“That’s how we increase our pool of technical talent. I’d like to see more commercial work staying in Columbus instead of leaving,” Daugherty suggested. “Can you imagine the impact on the local film industry if Nationwide, Wendy’s, and Huntington all agreed to keep just one percent of their commercial business here in Central Ohio—the number of jobs that would create and freelancers that could support?”
Columbus is increasingly ready to jump from supporting character to starring role when the right opportunity comes along. Measures of success in film and television aren’t easy to pin down, but Daugherty has distilled all of these individual efforts down to a simple strategy.
“My goal is to get four films a year and a series of some sort. Between that and more commercial projects, we could keep 300 to 400 people working year round,” he said. “After that, there’s enough experience, equipment, and momentum to bring in bigger projects. That’s how you become a film city.” ▩
Originally published in the March 2018 issue of (614) Magazine
Illustration by Dustin Goebel
Chuck Lamb clutched his mother’s hand as the steady stream of mourners approached his father’s casket. He recognized a few faces from the family’s infamous backyard poker parlor, attracting traveling card sharks eager to ante up with the local gambling legend and sometimes moonshiner. Even Chuck had his own side hustle since the age of six, running sandwiches and chips to the players for tips long into the night.
For someone as fabled as his father, the funeral still had way too many folks for just family and friends. Reverend Billy Graham himself was there to deliver the eulogy, but it was the guys in fitted suits and fedoras that stood out in rural North Carolina — each passing by the casket in suspicious silence. Chuck whispered into his mother’s ear wanting to know why they were there. Her reply was almost prophetic.
“They’re here to make sure he’s really dead.”
Columbus seems to inspire unlikely celebrities, from a long-shot boxer named Buster to a guy whose penchant for potato salad nearly broke the internet. Chuck Lamb may not have the same name recognition or notoriety, but you’d be hard-pressed to find any actor more committed to character. He’d moved here to his mother’s hometown as a wide-eyed kid from the foothills of Appalachia, but always dreamed of something a bit bigger. Without the looks or chops expected by an industry built on image and experience, this everyman turned a singular skill into a career as a corpse.
Chuck Lamb is the “Dead Body Guy”.
“It was always on my bucket list to see my name in the credits for a movie or television show,” he explained. “I loved the beginning of Law & Order. Every episode opened with Jerry Orbach standing over a dead body making some smart-ass remark.”
Chuck and his wife Tonya hatched a plan. Posed in creative states of comical demise, she photographed her husband for the newly registered deadbodyguy.com website, which he’d whipped together on a whim. (Television crime dramas must always be looking for victims, right?)
“She came up with several clever ways to kill me and we posted the pictures. Tonya made up the blood and everything,” Lamb quipped. “Within six weeks, we were on the front page of the New York Times.”
That’s when macabre soon became surreal. Eager to land the first morning television interview, the major networks each angled for Lamb’s exclusive attention.
“I was on the phone at home with both the Today Show and CBS, clicking between the two, and Good Morning America on my cellphone — all at the same time,” Lamb recalled. “They all wanted me to do their show first.” NBC ultimately came back with the best offer, a promised appearance on one of their series, and CBS was still ready to send a limo to pick him up at Rockefeller Center to immediately do their show the same day. ABC wasn’t interested in third place and passed altogether, or so it seemed.
“I was at Port Columbus getting ready to catch my flight to New York and a camera crew from ABC tried to ambush me for an interview to air on Good Morning America before I could get to the Today Show,” he revealed. Lamb was having none of it. “When I got there, NBC actually booked my hotel room under an assumed name to keep the other networks from finding me.”
Forget slasher movies — network television is cut-throat.
Numerous notable and also-ran roles followed, but never quite ignited demand for a well-seasoned stiff. Expectations were high for an appearance on an episode of the sitcom “What I Like About You”, but most of Lamb’s cameo was left on the cutting room floor.
“I went out there for two days, sat for hours and hours, and all you see is me slumped over and my bald head. They never showed my face,” Lamb lamented. “That was supposed to be my breakout performance. But if you blinked, you missed it.”
There was also that time the Dead Body Guy bumped into the Terminator.
Schwarzenegger happened to be walking into Hollywood Casino at the same moment as Lamb. It turns out Chuck had worked on a TV pilot with Arnold’s old acting coach and introduced himself. The two shared memories of working with their mutual friend while someone from Schwarzenegger’s entourage ran out to the parking lot to grab a copy of his autobiography, Total Recall, which Arnold personally inscribed.
Lamb’s most recent television work was his most animated to date, an upcoming appearance on the game show reboot of To Tell The Truth, featuring Denise Richards, Kal Penn, Ken Marino, and Theresa the Long Island Medium. Celebrity contestants ask a panel of three guests questions and try to guess who are the imposters, and who is telling the truth. Chuck’s delivery was, of course, deadpan.
“The producers contacted me about doing the show. We shot it months ago, but it hasn’t aired yet,” he noted. “Theresa came over and asked to see all of our hands and immediately said she knew who it was. I fooled two of the four.”
Celebrity, living or otherwise, was at best a stunt that seemed to outlast its original intent, and Law & Order. Following a few unfortunate injuries, and multiple back surgeries, Lamb realized retirement was in his cards. (Save maybe a casting call from The Walking Dead — a dying wish, if you will.)
“After more opportunities and laughs than I ever expected or deserved, I need to stop before it actually kills me.” he explained, suggesting he’d like to pass on the legacy and namesake of the Dead Body Guy to the right person, like Zorro or Batman handing the mask to the next anonymous hero. “I don’t want this dream to die with me.” ▩
Originally published in the December 2016 issue of (614) Magazine
In case you missed it, Columbus just became home to the world’s most subversive sandwich.
If Morgan Spurlock hangs up his handlebar mustache tomorrow, he’ll forever be famous as the guy whose one-month stunt eating nothing but McDonald’s fare changed the way Americans think about fast food — or, maybe not. By now, the gag is out of the bag. But the last laugh may still be on us. Holy Chicken, his latest venture, launched its first location as a four-day pop-up amid apparently oblivious fanfare. Unlike rival restaurants, it advertised antibiotic-free, hormone-free, cage-free fowl with unprecedented honesty.
“We’re going to bring total transparency to a lying industry,” said Spurlock, between a call-and-response chorus of patrons packed before his poultry pulpit. “HOLY CHICKEN,” he chanted—and his faithful flock followed.
If Andy Kaufman had opened a fast food franchise, it would be difficult to distinguish it from Holy Chicken. As far as the simple menu went, it seems like a genuine attempt to offer a better bird for a premium price. But, you’re also being served some super-sized sarcasm on an artisan bun, with a side of social satire.
The signs were everywhere.
No, really — the signs were all over the joint.
From on-the-nose aphorisms about the persuasive psychology of “healthy and relaxed” green and “enthusiastic and energetic” orange to a snarky “SEE YOU SOON” on the exit with the disclaimer, “Most doctors and nutritionists would recommend that you eat Holy Chicken only once or twice a month to maintain a balanced diet. But that probably won’t stop you, will it?”
“Americans make bad choices all the time,” said the straight-faced Spurlock, noting the ominous warnings in friendly fonts occupying the walls. Spurlock’s old-fashioned ribbon-cutting ceremony included representatives from Experience Columbus and the Chamber of Commerce, as well as a proclamation from the State of Ohio — presented against a backdrop of folksy, farm-to-table, illustrated insights titled “Know Your Chicken,” “Know Your Farmer,” and “Know Your Vertically Integrated Corporate Supply Chain.”
I have to admit, the sandwich was pretty tasty — despite the dire and discouraging décor. I went for the “Grilled Crispy Chicken Sandwich” topped with maple mustard, pickles, and homemade slaw. The side of “Crunchy Greens” was actually batter-dipped green beans. Both were fried.
“We don’t use the F-word,” Spurlock quietly confessed. “People like ‘crispy’ and ‘crunchy’ food.”
That’s not much consolation if you worry about what you eat. Americans rarely read the fine print, and apparently they aren’t fans of larger-than-life print either. The chicken sandwich, their only entrée, weighed in at 860 calories. Add those fried green beans at 190 calories, and your total matched that of a Big Mac and large fries from Spurlock’s former nemesis.
If that realization wasn’t enough to offset your appetite, the annotated, meticulously staged mural of the same sandwich should have. Photoshop trickery is always a given — but using KY in the coleslaw to create a more marketable image could leave you feeling queasy.
The genius: Spurlock wasn’t hiding any of this, making the distinction between sincerity and chicanery difficult to tell, hard to sell, and harder to swallow. Though he described the use of real wood surfaces to “give you thoughts of nature, trees, cute little farms with barns, and other healthy stuff” — a discrete lean over the counter into the kitchen revealed an employee literally using a brush and stencil to paint charcoal stripes on the grilled chicken.
Holy Chicken claimed its food was “too good to be true.” Whether the hundreds who lined up were willingly duped, blissfully ignorant, or just playing along was an even-money bet. The hype was real, even if some weren’t sure the restaurant was. Perhaps that was the point, along with gathering a lot of footage for some future film or television endeavor. Americans care less about antibiotics, hormones, and cages than they do feeling good about themselves.
They want guilt-free fast food — disclosures be damned.
But in the days that followed, social media cried foul and the local press was unimpressed. Spurlock’s epic editorial on deceptive practices had some screaming the sky was falling without considering the moral of the story.
Columbus was invited to be in on the joke, not the butt of it. As America’s test market, we’ve seen our share of half-baked ideas. This was not one of them. There was no subterfuge. Holy Chicken sold sandwiches, not snake oil. Better yet, they sold them at a price we should expect to pay for better chicken and better wages. That chicken was all that was advertised—free from the ambiguous labels we presume are bad, but have lots of legal leeway. And those employees were paid $15 an hour, far better than Spurlock himself made during his last gig in Columbus.
The premiere episode of his groundbreaking television series, 30 Days, followed the filmmaker through the struggles of minimum wage employment. It’s no coincidence he returned here to unveil his latest project, even if some were swept up in the same cognitive dissonance behind the foods we choose everyday. Of all of the premium modifiers used to describe his chicken, “healthy” was never one of them. Presuming the rest somehow made it so was exactly the linguistic leap the fast food industry expects us to make, and any backlash instead of hilarity that ensues proved it.
Did Holy Chicken disclose in unapologetic fashion exactly what they were serving? Were you initially elated that a healthier restaurant was finally meeting customer demands, only to have your hopes dashed again? Were the sandwiches they served likely no better than those sold by nearly every fellow fast food chain? Yes? Then shut the cluck up.
Spurlock didn’t reduce cultural commentary to a crappy carnival ride. He elevated it to an innovative, interactive experience. Holy Chicken wasn’t a hoax — it was a catered performance art exhibition. Luckily, most folks were all too honored to eat it up. ▩
Super Size Me 2: Holy Chicken! is now available to stream on YouTube, Amazon Prime, and iTunes.
Originally published in the September 2014 issue of (614) Magazine
Photo by J.R. McMillan
Amid the modern movie houses remains a monument to local motion picture history — the South Drive-In.
Central Ohio was once home to 17 drive-in theaters. But with the closings of the Kingman and 40 East a decade ago, the South sadly has the distinction of being the last drive-in theater in Columbus.
But this isn’t a eulogy.
Even as traditional theaters are struggling to compete with the ease and instant gratification of Netflix and Redbox, big screens are big business again. Audience interest in 3D films has declined in recent years, but ticket sales for large-format features are booming.
Though not exactly an IMAX experience, the South’s super-size screens make those puny multiplexes look like bed sheets and your flat-panel TV look like a postcard.
Tonight’s crowd is as mixed as the cars they drive – a pickup for every Prius, a muscle car for every minivan.
“It’s definitely more family-friendly, as is the price,” said Jason Harddarger of Columbus. He and his wife Carol have been coming here with their children for more than seven years. Adult admissions are comparable at $9, but children 11 and under are only a buck.
There are newbies, as well. Sixteen students from Dublin Coffman’s cross-country team are here to see Guardians of the Galaxy. Some had already seen the film, but none have been to the South before tonight. They said they were willing to caravan past several first-run theaters to see the space epic on a giant scale.
“I grew up in Illinois and went to my first drive-in movie when I was nine,” said Piper Hayward, the 17-year-old senior who organized the outing. “I wanted my friends to see how different the experience really is.”
The South’s gas-powered popcorn popper certainly beats the pre-popped alternatives you find elsewhere. But they also let audiences pack their own snacks. You can even bring your own grill, so long as the coals are cold before the film starts. (Just try bringing hotdogs and a Hibachi to any other theater in town).
Seating options are also up to you. Enjoy the quiet comfort of your car, cozy up under a blanket in the bed of your truck or just break out the lawn chairs. Audio is available from vintage speakers or through your vehicle’s radio. As for rain, refunds are rarely necessary – though there was that one time in 1973 when a tornado actually took out the main screen just as the movie was starting. Now that was 3D.
You also get two films for the price of one. The South has two screens, each showing a different film after sundown and a second movie on each after that.
But the South’s double feature isn’t just the second screening. On weekends and Wednesdays, it transforms into Central Ohio’s largest open-air flea market.
There are the usual suspects: crates of vinyl records, tools and trinkets, dubious DVDs and knock-off purses. But also the unexpected: wooden lobster traps, tube radios, old-school game consoles, golden age comics, and antique furniture.
Several farmers have set up stands near the entrance and holler like carnival barkers. “Cantaloupes, one dollar! Sweet corn, Three dollars a dozen!”
Joseph Ponder has been selling various wares at the South for three years. A former welterweight boxer-turned-writer originally from New York, his wits are still as quick as his jabs once were.
“They open for sellers at 5 a.m., but I arrive around 3 a.m. every Saturday to get one of the best spots,” he confessed. “I think folks come here because they can wheel and deal.”
It’s equal parts kitsch and collectibles, where hipsters and hillbillies mingle and you’re never quite sure if the mustaches and sideburns are ironic or sincere.
After a mile of meandering, I left with a tall stack of 78 records, a flashlight that looks like a Coke bottle, and a sack of tailgate tomatoes — all for less than I pay for a haircut.
If you come looking for something specific, you’ll likely leave disappointed. If you come looking for something interesting, you won’t leave empty-handed. ▩
South Drive-in and Flea Market is located at 3050 S High St. and is open until mid-November.
