Abel Raises Cain
by Alan Abel

Chapter 2 — So You Want To Make A Movie?

It was the summer of nineteen-seventy. I asked friends Buck Henry (The Graduate) and Robert Downey, Sr. (Putney Swope) to help my wife, Jeanne, and me to make an independent movie. Why? Well, we had done other creative things, such as writing books, comedy record albums and staging media events worldwide (our campaign to clothe all naked animals for the sake of decency was a huge success with the motto "a nude horse is a rude horse"). Why not make a movie for fun and a bit of fame? Perhaps money too. Henry and Downey didn't have any disposable funds at that time and we were broke. I wanted $10,000 to film a ten-minute pilot that could raise the $400,000 budget required to shoot our film. A letter to William Moore, Chairman of Bankers Trust might work:

Dear Mr. Moore,
I've been with your bank for ten years, never had a check bounce, never insulted your tellers, always put spoiled paper in the waste basket, never ever thought of holding up any of your 132 branches and, if a stranger on the street asked me to recommend a good bank, I would always say Bankers Trust. So, Mr. Moore, would you kindly approve an unsecured loan to my checking account in the amount of $10,000? Granted, my balance is only $97, I am unemployed, have no savings, stocks, bonds, CDs or other assets, but I promise to pay you back.

Hopefully,
Alan Abel

It was a rainy Monday morning when Mr. Moore's secretary read my letter, laughed out loud and gave it to her boss. He smiled and initialed the letter for approval.

I couldn't believe my good fortune. We went to work and made the pilot showing Buck Henry as a professor in abnormal psychology: "... nine out of ten dwarfs die during climax. Just look around. No dwarfs." Then Bob Downey was interviewed as a talk show guest on television who refused to answer any questions. Finally, a class of adults (actors) seeking advice on sex. For example: "Is it dangerous to have a nocturnal emission under an electric blanket?"

The pilot made the rounds of distributors and backers. One distributor offered to finance if we included some hardcore scenes. No thanks. A potential backer wanted his wife and daughter to have starring roles. Sorry.

Three months went by and I was sitting disconsolately in my closet office at 507 Fifth Avenue. It was a former broom closet that I persuaded the building owner to rent me so I could have a Fifth Avenue address. There was only room for a folding chair and school desk. (I had one meeting with Bob Shea from New Line Cinema and he sat on my other folding chair in the hall facing the open closet. Very humiliating for me, uproarious to him.)

One actor who hadn't received his $50 performance fee knocked on the door. I gave him the check and he asked for two tickets to see the movie. Just out of Loyola University, Michael Rothschild wanted to learn the film business. The name Rothschild rang a bell. Yes, he had a rich uncle and would ask him that night to finance the movie. We could meet the next day for lunch.

Mike called me in the morning and said it was a go. He named the restaurant and I told him I would hire a hit man if he were playing games. It was all too good to be true. First the money from Bankers Trust and now an angel at the door. The backer was sincere with two conditions: 1. He must remain anonymous. 2. Mike would co-sign all checks.

We had the money and complete creative freedom. A great start for making an independent feature! But where to begin? The script was looking good and we allowed plenty of room for improvisation. With heavyweights like Buck Henry, Robert Downey and Marshall Efron, this arrangement could work in our favor.

As a pseudo-documentary Is There Sex After Death included an early view of seemingly salacious sexual activities in America. There was a topless string quartet performing on stage; The Florida All-State Nudist Choir; an erotic museum on Park Avenue; an International Sex Olympics with couples from around the world participating. (The latter scene was leaked to the press as a real event and FBI director J. Edgar Hoover ordered a secret investigation. Several years later, under the Freedom of Information Act, I obtained the paperwork; eight agents spent a month and 30 pages of reporting, but the last page was completely blacked out because it exposed the satire.)

On Sunday October 24, 1971 we opened at the Playboy Theater on West 57th Street in New York City. Four hours prior to the 6:00 p.m. premiere there was a line around the block. I had hired 100 unemployed people to stand there. This feat created a buzz and we sold all six hundred seats.

The critics were in the house, including Vincent Canby from the New York Times, when disaster struck. Opening credits suddenly showed a fire on the screen. Our projectionist had misthreaded the film and it caught on fire. The audience sighed, Jeanne ran into the booth to rethread the film and I went on stage to pacify the audience: "Sorry about the slight delay; we will be offering free vasectomy operations afterwards and if anyone wants their money back just ask for it. You won't get it."

Ten excruciating minutes went by and the movie rolled without credits. I counted 112 audience laughs during the 90-minute film. Six hours later the first edition of The New York Times claimed "Is There Sex After Death? is the funniest movie since Woody Allen's Bananas." Other newspapers, radio and television echoed this reaction. We had a hit!

After three months of sold-out shows, including a run at Cinema II, we went national with a distributor and broke house records in Providence, San Antonio and Louisville. Additional honors came from the Atlanta Film Festival and London National Theatre. Our backer earned back his investment, plus a hefty profit, and he bought a racehorse named "Affirmed" that won the Triple Crown. My wife and I found a small estate in Westport, CT and purchased a 1911 train caboose from the Duluth, Winnepeg and Pacific Railroad as a playhouse for our four-year old daughter, Jennifer.

So you want to make a movie? Good luck. But first take a look at Is There Sex After Death?," a satire on sex written, produced, cast, directed and edited by Jeanne and Alan Abel, now available on DVD by Image Entertainment. And you can always reach me via e-mail at abelalan2000 - at - yahoo.com.

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