How to Make a Horror Movie and Survive by Craig DiLouie EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Craig DiLouie
- Language: English
- Genre: Horror
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5.2 MB
- Price: Free
If you aren’t horrified, you aren’t paying attention. If you aren’t terrified,
you aren’t really living. That’s what Max Maurey believed.
In fact, Max loved horror so much that he’d devoted his life to making
it. Which explained why he donned a tuxedo and rode a rented limousine to
the Cinerama in Hollywood on a sultry August evening.
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To celebrate the making. A new movie, to be exact.
Powerful searchlight beams swayed in the twilight, the iconic signal of a
premiere. In this case, one of the most highly anticipated horror releases of
1988.
Moments later, his limo pulled up to the curb.
And outside—
The red carpet stretched under an illuminated marquee.
The theater’s geodesic concrete dome loomed over the scene.
Covered in Jack the Knife III splatter logos, the step-and-repeat publicity
wall stood ready to serve as backdrop for celebrity photographs.
Max put on a grin and stepped onto the pristine carpet like he owned it,
which tonight he pretty much did.
Entertainment journalists craned their necks to see who’d arrived. The
fans buzzed. Some of the guys sported leather jackets and shades like the
titular Jack. Some of the ladies wore cardigans, skirts, and bobby socks to
cosplay the bygone era in which Jack returned from the dead.
This party was just getting started.
Wearing his own tux, Jordan Lyman greeted Max with a puff of cigar
smoke. With his curly mop of hair and mirrored sunglasses, the burly
producer exuded the overblown masculinity of a porn star who didn’t know
the seventies were over.
On set, Max might be a creator god, but even he answered to a higher
power—the moneyman. As he loathed Jordan for this alone, he couldn’t
resist a barb.
“Even when you dress up, you only look seedier.”
“And you look like something that’s afraid of daylight.”
“Ouch.” Max’s hand jerked to pat his silver-streaked hair, which waved
in random directions like a mad scientist’s. “At least I look the part.”
“Crazy eyes, baby,” the producer confirmed.
“Crazy eyes?”
“Back when I met you, you were a man possessed by a vision. It’s why I
gave the first Jack the Knife the green light back in ’79. And here we are.”
“Here we are,” said Max.
On top of the world. He’d traveled a long, hard road to reach it.
Working his way up the ladder in the New Hollywood of the seventies,
Max had worn many hats. He’d messengered dailies, cut film as an editor,
and wrangled sets as an assistant director. His dream of directing his own
movies remained elusive, however, in an industry where the bigwigs didn’t
like to say no but enjoyed making you wait. A way of doing business that
prompted Pauline Kael to label Hollywood the one place you could die of
encouragement.
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