Read Online Coreyography: A Memoir by Corey Feldman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Corey Feldman
Tags: Non-Fiction
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come in and read for a part.
“Great,” I tell her. “What’s the movie?”
“It’s called E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial . Steven Spielberg is directing.”
* * *
Nine years earlier, in the summer of 1973, a virtually unknown director was hired to make a film abut a maniacal great white shark terrorizing a tiny New England town. Despite a ballooning budget, massive production days, and a finicky animatronic title character, he created an Academy Award–winning masterpiece, spawning “Jawsmania,” inventing the “summer blockbuster,” and grossing nearly half a billion dollars in the process. The twenty-nine-year-old then rebuffed offers to direct Jaws 2, as well as a smattering of superhero movies, opting instead to write and direct a strange little film about UFOs. Close Encounters of the Third Kind earned nine Oscar nominations, including one for Best Director. By the time I show up at the MGM lot in Culver City, Raiders of the Lost Ark has just hit theaters. Steven Spielberg has been anointed. He is the Next Big Thing.
I’m reading for the part of Elliott’s best friend. It’s a pivotal role and I’m nervous. But Steven, who at thirty-six looks to me like a young Chevy Chase, is nothing like what I expected. He is free-spirited and funny; we hit it off right away. These days it’s a bit of a cliché to talk about how nice Steven Spielberg is, but it’s true—he really is one of the kindest men in the business.
“That was great. Really great,” he tells me when I’ve finished with my audition. “You’ve got the part.” Then he drapes his arm across my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “Why don’t I show you how things work around here?”
Steven is busy producing (and according to murmurings within the industry, unofficially directing) a new horror film, so he takes me on a tour of the various soundstages until we reach a giant set, which will be at the center of a terrifying scene: the actress JoBeth Williams and her on-screen children will appear to be flying through the air, grabbing onto headboards and doorjambs to avoid being sucked out a window in their California home by a strange demonic force called The Beast. Steven shows me how the actors will dangle from harnesses, how their hair and clothes will be blown back by the strength of several industrial fans, while the interior of the room—a huge motorized set piece—will rotate completely upside down. Effects-wise, this is groundbreaking stuff. The film, he tells me, is called Poltergeist .
* * *
E.T. still had a solid six months left of preproduction, so I knew it would be awhile before things got rolling. In the interim, I auditioned for a show called Madame’s Place, a sitcom featuring the bawdy, double-entendre-laced comedy of “Madame,” a lifelike puppet.
Madame’s Place was unusual in that it was a first-run syndication show, meaning that it was scheduled to air on a lot of different channels (rather than owned—and aired—by only one network), five days a week. The first order was, therefore, enormous, somewhere between fifty and a hundred episodes, way more than the standard thirteen. This would guarantee a steady income, and my family needed the money. But I was worried that I’d be tied down to a silly television show when the call for E.T . eventually came. “Go in on everything,” my mother told me. “Better to get the offer and turn it down than to not get the offer at all.”
I did get an offer, though it was for less money than I had been making. My mother made me take the part anyway. So, I became Buzzy, Madame’s nosy next-door neighbor.
Working with Madame—to my surprise and utter delight—was a lot like working with a major Hollywood movie star. Her personality was so big; I could be doing a scene and completely forget that I was talking to a puppet, that she wasn’t actually real. Her puppeteer, Wayland Flowers (who was already famous for his appearances alongside Madame on
“Great,” I tell her. “What’s the movie?”
“It’s called E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial . Steven Spielberg is directing.”
* * *
Nine years earlier, in the summer of 1973, a virtually unknown director was hired to make a film abut a maniacal great white shark terrorizing a tiny New England town. Despite a ballooning budget, massive production days, and a finicky animatronic title character, he created an Academy Award–winning masterpiece, spawning “Jawsmania,” inventing the “summer blockbuster,” and grossing nearly half a billion dollars in the process. The twenty-nine-year-old then rebuffed offers to direct Jaws 2, as well as a smattering of superhero movies, opting instead to write and direct a strange little film about UFOs. Close Encounters of the Third Kind earned nine Oscar nominations, including one for Best Director. By the time I show up at the MGM lot in Culver City, Raiders of the Lost Ark has just hit theaters. Steven Spielberg has been anointed. He is the Next Big Thing.
I’m reading for the part of Elliott’s best friend. It’s a pivotal role and I’m nervous. But Steven, who at thirty-six looks to me like a young Chevy Chase, is nothing like what I expected. He is free-spirited and funny; we hit it off right away. These days it’s a bit of a cliché to talk about how nice Steven Spielberg is, but it’s true—he really is one of the kindest men in the business.
“That was great. Really great,” he tells me when I’ve finished with my audition. “You’ve got the part.” Then he drapes his arm across my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “Why don’t I show you how things work around here?”
Steven is busy producing (and according to murmurings within the industry, unofficially directing) a new horror film, so he takes me on a tour of the various soundstages until we reach a giant set, which will be at the center of a terrifying scene: the actress JoBeth Williams and her on-screen children will appear to be flying through the air, grabbing onto headboards and doorjambs to avoid being sucked out a window in their California home by a strange demonic force called The Beast. Steven shows me how the actors will dangle from harnesses, how their hair and clothes will be blown back by the strength of several industrial fans, while the interior of the room—a huge motorized set piece—will rotate completely upside down. Effects-wise, this is groundbreaking stuff. The film, he tells me, is called Poltergeist .
* * *
E.T. still had a solid six months left of preproduction, so I knew it would be awhile before things got rolling. In the interim, I auditioned for a show called Madame’s Place, a sitcom featuring the bawdy, double-entendre-laced comedy of “Madame,” a lifelike puppet.
Madame’s Place was unusual in that it was a first-run syndication show, meaning that it was scheduled to air on a lot of different channels (rather than owned—and aired—by only one network), five days a week. The first order was, therefore, enormous, somewhere between fifty and a hundred episodes, way more than the standard thirteen. This would guarantee a steady income, and my family needed the money. But I was worried that I’d be tied down to a silly television show when the call for E.T . eventually came. “Go in on everything,” my mother told me. “Better to get the offer and turn it down than to not get the offer at all.”
I did get an offer, though it was for less money than I had been making. My mother made me take the part anyway. So, I became Buzzy, Madame’s nosy next-door neighbor.
Working with Madame—to my surprise and utter delight—was a lot like working with a major Hollywood movie star. Her personality was so big; I could be doing a scene and completely forget that I was talking to a puppet, that she wasn’t actually real. Her puppeteer, Wayland Flowers (who was already famous for his appearances alongside Madame on
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