THE EVIL DEAD JOURNAL

Josh Becker

Forward:

Other than the film itself, this is the only record of the making of the movie "Evil

Dead," formerly known as "Book of the Dead." It has taken me eighteen years to

finally type this. I have left all of the wording, grammar, and punctuation exactly as

they were when it was written by hand in spiral notebooks at the time. I have,

however, corrected the spelling errors.

Sunday, November 11, 1979 --

Ah, Tennessee . . .

We of the cast and crew of "Book of the Dead" are presently residing in an

extremely large house (6 bedrooms, 3 full baths) somewhere outside Morristown,

which is about an hour outside Knoxville.

Getting here wasn't particularly difficult, other than the instructions we received were

completely mismarked in relation to compass direction. The location at this writing is

a wonderful exterior (I've only seen stills), however the interior is unacceptable to

those in the know. We may still be shooting in Marshall, Michigan.

We all moved into our rooms (although I haven't spotted Rich and Theresa yet) and

I got a bed (most everyone else is on army cots or the floor).

Sam spoke for our first production meeting and made a good show; he was adroit,

yet funny (at the expense of Gary Holt, our local location manager). He used a camp

counselor attitude to the whole thing, seemingly covered all the points and that was

that.

Holt played us a song he had written and recorded that was very strange. It was

about 10 minutes long with a guy talking about the horrors of a Vietnam vet. It was

too weird.

Later . . .

I don't have any idea as to what time it is. I have gotten twice as much sleep as

anyone here. I awoke today to dinner being made (spaghetti that was okay), then

dope smoking and beer drinking wiped me out in a few hours and I was back to

sleep. When I awoke this last time I found Sam and Tom still up working on the

actual Book of the Dead (Sam was having a rubber cast of his palm made to use as

one of the pages of "human skin").

So now everyone is asleep and I'm up. Sam said it was about 6:30 A.M., then said

it was 1:30 A.M., then came back with 6:45 A.M. and since there isn't a clock

around I don't know.

It's a real strange grouping together of people. I'll wait to see how everyone

functions as a team.

Nevertheless, we're all here, all the equipment is here, props galore and we do have

a car exterior anyway so I guess we're making movies.

Tuesday, Nov. 13th, 1979 --

We now have a location, which is about a mile from here, that is almost totally

demolished and needs to be rebuilt. This is expected to take eight days, during which

time we shall be filming driving scenes.

I drove to Knoxville airport to pick up the film but it hadn't arrived yet. It's supposed

to be in later tonight.

I don't feel like part of this happy family.

I don't feel like writing right now.

Later . . .

It's about 4:30 A.M. and I can't seem to get past my old sleeping habits. I went to

sleep at 9:00 P.M. and woke up at 3:00. This gives me quite a few hours to myself

to read and write (I finished "Commander 1" a few minutes ago). Also, I haven't

been having a terrific time becoming one of the "family," so I just sleep it out.

Bruce picked up the film so I suspect we could shoot tomorrow -- that would be

nice. And although "they" are trying to be democratic about who works where, I

simply do not want to be doing clean-up and carpentry on the cabin when I could be

assisting the shoot. I will undoubtedly end up on clean-up anyway.

Of the cast and crew, here's how I see it: Theresa is an air-head but well-meaning

and is trying to be motherly, Betsy just is, Rich is okay, Don is okay but a little

wacky on destroying things, Ellen is distant and seems troubled (she seems to have

had some difficulty with her face mold tonight), Tim (camera) seems to know what

he's doing, John (sound) is a good guy, Goody is Goody (loud & goofy), Dart

(Steve Frankell) arrived today and he's a good guy, Tapert seems to be enjoying his

power-position, but hasn't become annoying, Bruce is either ALL BUSINESS or

ALL SHTICKS and Sam, though a bit harried, is just his plain old self and everyone

seems to adore him. As for me, I'm the recluse.

Last evening, as I was trying to get the dishwasher going, Theresa said to me, "You

know, you're not as bad as they made you out to be." I asked her what this meant

and she wouldn't reply.

I forgot Tom Sullivan -- he does his job and enjoys himself, but otherwise is barely

apparent.

Thursday, Nov. 15th, 1979 --

So, yesterday was our first day of filming. We were out at this fairly large, creaky

old bridge filming the car driving across and boards dropping out from beneath.

My job was slating and setting up the fake beams beneath the bridge (which was

done by threading fishline through the beam, then running the line across the bridge at

a height so that when the car drove past it would break the line. At the same time

Rob and I were also tossing real logs off).

Things went quite well, if slow. My first job of the day was attracting the attention of

some bulls that were attacking Tim and Sam as they shot the long shot from a field

across the street. I just sang some songs and the whole herd moved to the other end

of the field.

Later . . .

Today's shooting was chock full of exciting things. The very first event of the day

after we left in three vehicles for the location is that the van got lost and we spent a

half hour trying to locate it.

Our location at Clinch Mt. was very panoramic and we did some follow shots of the

subject car that should look terrific. We then got to this dirt road beneath a highway

overpass and within the first hour of setting up Sam drove his car into a ditch and we

had to get a tow truck to get it out.

About two hours later Rob and I set out to find Don Campbell, who had gone out to

scout a location, and found him standing high atop a wooded cliff. We called to him,

then he disappeared only to reappear moments later sliding off the cliff. Don made

one last try at grabbing a tree, missed and went sailing down about twenty feet.

I dashed up the hill to where he had landed and called to him, but he didn't respond.

I lost my footing and tumbled back. On the next try I clawed my way up and found

Don sitting in a daze. I asked if he thought anything was broken and it wasn't.

We've now taken him to the hospital for some tests.

Friday, Nov. 16th, 1979 --

Today's shoot was rather boring. All of the shots were of sequences taking place in

the car. Rob was busy today so I kept the log. That entailed waiting for the car to

get back, then coercing the information out of Sam and Tim. It wasn't particularly

taxing.

Things are running well. The cast does what they're told, the only bitching coming

from Theresa, but no one ever listens. Sam is funny and has been giving some

first-rate direction, Bruce is funny and keeps Ellen particularly always laughing, Rob

is dealing with the problems and not giving anyone grief, while always wanting the

best for the production, Dart and Goody are digging fixing up the house, Don is a

psycho, and I do what needs to be done -- as does Tim and John.

I've been going to sleep directly after dinner and finding that I'm just getting enough

sleep. I'm in bed now.

Sunday, Nov. 18th, 1979 --

I just returned from watching Tim and Rob do some "evil entity P.O.V.s" through the

woods by means of attaching the camera to a five-foot 2x4, the camera at one end

with Tim holding it, Rob holding the other end for stability. Theoretically it's not a

bad idea, although in practice Rob kept smashing into trees.

Yesterday I spent the day working on the cabin: peeling old wallpaper, plastering,

painting, etc. The place may look okay depending on how it's dressed-up.

Last night Gary Holt took us to a performance of "The Good Doctor" at a local

theater that was pretty awful. The setting of the play is supposed to be Russia but

seemingly no one could handle the accent, so it ranged from Liverpudlian to Ohio to

southern USA/Russian. Before the show began an ugly, overweight girl got up and

made some announcements: no smoking, try-outs for "The Twelfth Night," thanking

people and saying that the bathroom was in the dressing room and if anyone used it

please don't flush because it would ruin the mood of the play.

Anyway, I could barely keep my eyes open.

Later . . .

I'm finding it increasingly more and more difficult dealing with the women on this

production. I feel intentionally alienated and even to the point that I am an object of

ridicule. As usual I figured this was exclusively my problem, but yesterday Goody

said exactly the same thing.

Last night Tim and I talked for about an hour about a script idea of his that I found

exciting and rather unique. I'll bring it up to him again later.

I lapse back and forth between simply not caring what my function on this film is to

despising my lowly position. To Sam, Bruce, Rob, Tim and Tom this is a

dream-come-true, for the cast it's a chance at fame, for Don, Goody and I it's

merely something to do. I really don't mind the chores I've been doing, but they're

menial and uninteresting and the idea that five weeks of this remains is a tad

unsettling.

Three ounces of pot has been lost (or so I've been told) so staying stoned is not

even a possibility anymore.

Five more weeks -- Lord God this is going to be trying.

Tuesday, Nov. 20th, 1979 --

I'm not exactly sure it's either Tuesday or the 20th, but it doesn't really matter.

Today was spent at The Old Bridge location about 45 miles from here. Scenes of

styrofoam "It's Murder" boards falling onto the camera below and the car wheel

dropping through the planking were shot and both looked terrific. And then the

welder and the wrecker showed up to tear the metal structure of the bridge apart

and make it look like a clawing hand. It's almost finished (which took all day and

night) and looks amazing.

Upon arriving at the bridge in Bruce's car, Sam realized he had the keys to his Olds

with him, so I had to drive 45 miles back home, then back again.

Walking on the rotting planks totally freaked me out. It was something like a 35 foot

drop into fast-moving water, however Dart bounded around on the beams like a

ballerina.

During tonight's construction, the winch was drawn around the left side of the bridge

to bend the little finger to the left. Unbeknownst to anyone the cable was also around

a large tree-branch that snapped when tension was applied to the cable and landed

on Sam. The limb must have been 50 lbs., but didn't knock him over. He merely

staggered back and sat on the wrecker. Everyone thought he was okay, however I

went over to him and found him pale, his eyes completely bloodshot, his lips white

and crusty and a small amount of blood dripping from his left nostril. I offered my

assistance and he shook slightly declining. About ten minutes later he was functional

but seemed groggy and passed out on the way home.

The footage comes back tomorrow.

It's 1:15 A.M. and I've been up since 4:30 A.M. and I have to be up at 7:00 A.M.

Wednesday, Nov. 21st, 1979 --

So far today has been a fiasco -- not for me actually, but . . .

I drove Rob around today as he checked on, and had done, all that needed doing

for tonight's shooting of the bridge/claw scene.

We went out to the bridge and found that the end knuckle of the ring-finger had

been amputated at Dart's decree. It doesn't ruin the claw effect, but it is a definite

detraction.

The electrician arrived drunk and in the midst of consuming a beer to rig the cable

from the 5000 watt light to the generator and said he couldn't do it today. I listened

to him mumble 75% incoherently, then left assured of his complete and total

stupidity.

Goody drove to Atlanta, GA. to pick up the new film from Kodak and his truck

broke down, and although I'm not certain, it seems quite serious. His truck was the

only vehicle equipped with a trailer hitch to pull the generator, so now they're

considering rending a U-haul van to put the generator in.

A moment ago Bruce and I heard a crash, went into the garage and found that Sam

had just broken a 5000 watt bulb which cost $75.00.

So, we don't have a truck, the use of the 5K, new film, several knuckles on the

bridge fingers or Goody.

We leave for the bridge very soon.

Friday, Nov. 23rd, 1979 --

Yesterday was probably the nicest Thanksgiving I've ever had. After shooting the

knarled-hand/Bridge scene until 6:30 A.M., with two generators, a thirty-six foot

crane, three fog machines and 4000 watts of light, we got up at 11:00 A.M. to go to

Gary Holt's Mother-in-law's house for the Thanksgiving meal.

It was sunny and warm, the colors wonderfully vibrant, the setting rural and rustic.

The meal was extravagant, the people folksy and hospitable, we rode around on

Gary's son's go-cart, we played football, played with the two Dobermans, three tiny

kitties, and two Pekinese dogs, watched Detroit vs. Chicago on TV, showed

"Within the Woods," actually helped a neighboring farmer herd some cattle that had

wandered astray, then came home and watched the rushes -- some of which are

great, the rest good, then I went to sleep and awoke today at 6:00 A.M. and am

presently defecating my Thanksgiving meal.

Saturday, Nov. 24th, 1979 --

Once again we are about to leave for the dirt road location at Clinch Mt. Yesterday

we filmed the scene with the subject car swerving in and almost hitting a logging

truck and I filmed a couple of shots. It never looked as good as it should have.

Dissension among the cast and crew seems to be building. Some of the gripes are:

Sam never shoots a master-shot of anything, therefore the cast never gets to play out

a whole scene, he'll spend hours filming an insert, then not have time for three other

shots, he spends very little time telling the actors what he wants, he'll do a few

run-throughs, but mainly for the camera's sake, not the actors, he films everything

from every angle, except the really important things like the bridge scene (which bugs

the shit out of Tom). Supposedly we are three days behind, but I'm not sure whether

to believe it or not since Campbell, Tapert, Raimi seem to think it necessary to

withhold or lie about certain things. For instance, Rob told me the bridge scene cost

$2300.00, whereas Bruce said $1200.00 -- that's a big discrepancy.

My neck has hurt for four days, and yet, even with all this I'm still enjoying myself.

My tape recorder keeps getting taken out to the cabin, left overnight in the cold,

which kills the batteries, then I track it down (since no one returns it) and if I want to

use it I have to buy new batteries which runs me $5.00.

This production is depressing me again. It rained last night so we can't go to the dirt

road and alas it's just sitting around.

I guess that it must be a reflection of my comportment, but I do not like the way I'm

treated by several people here. Betsy gives me upward of four dirty looks and snide

comments a day, always to statements of mine not directed toward her. Theresa

simply doesn't deal with me at all and Sam (this is the major one) appears to not only

not want my suggestions on open questions, but is more than a shade reticent to let

me do anything that takes any amount of thought or creative input. When he decided

to go with multiple cameras yesterday, he immediately asked John to run camera #2,

then began wondering aloud who had the ability to run camera #3 and only after I

asked and he gave it some thought would he let me run it. Today he was thinking of

a method for a fake shot, opened it up to suggestions from Dart, didn't like what he

heard then just left it to Dart.

This sounds like paranoid ravings, and maybe it is, but I'm still mildly bugged.

I talked for a long time with Tom Sullivan last night and rather enjoyed myself.

Mainly we talked movies and I told him the story of "Bloodbath" [which ultimately

became "Thou Shalt Not Kill . . . Except"] and he liked it, then he told me this totally

bizarre idea of his about other dimensions, ghosts, "actual demons," "actual

sea-serpents," that just went on forever.

So far, if I did a film, of these folks I wouldn't mind using John Mason in some

capacity, Tim Philo as camera operator, both Goody and Dart as carpenters and

P.A.s and possibly Tapert as producer -- but, that's just jerk-off thoughts.

Later . . .

Speaking of paranoid ravings, this production is making me paranoid. I've got this

odd, unfounded fear I'm going to get fired -- I'm assuredly replaceable, as a matter

of fact I'm totally expendable, I have no basis for this fear, yet it persists.

These guys are freaking out with all this money, they can't stop finding ways to spend

it. Now they're having Dart build a slanted, twenty-foot ramp running from the edge

of the porch out in front of the door to get another crane effect. It's ridiculous.

Why am I in this absurd position? The idea of working on a movie is great, but the

grief just isn't worth it. To be on a production with good friends and intentionally and

continually placed in a lower position is maddeningly insulting. I really want to tell

them to fuck off, but it won't accomplish anything. I've tried to keep a good attitude

throughout but it's difficult -- I have ideas that I have to force on people just to get

them to listen, not even accept them.

And, I think I'm sick, too.

Fuck!

And yet a little while later . . .

It appears as though this production is running into some trouble. The high brass is in

a special conference this very moment discussing it; how to keep going with exteriors

while it's raining, or to go interior with a cabin that is as yet unfinished and

unfurnished.

At this point, this is what I would do: stop shooting for a couple of days, get

everyone out to the cabin, rehearse every move, every lighting set-up, finish fixing the

place, dress it, wait for it to stop raining, then keep shooting (the rain is supposed to

end on Thursday) but now do the long tracking takes that comprise so much of the

footage, then get the inserts and go home.

Tom asked if I suggested this to them and I hadn't, nor will I. I've made as many

suggestions as I'm going to.

This meeting is taking place in the room adjoining mine so I can't go to my room.

The question is: why is all of this bothering me so much? It's not my film, why should

I care? I'm backassed on both points. I want to care, but I don't really, and it's not

my film, yet I wish it were -- at least in some part -- then someone might take heed

of my words.

But why do I want them to take my word? Isn't their's enough?

No. It's not.

We are now four days behind and there is a good chance tomorrow will make five.

Sam does not have a firm control of the situation at all.

Of course I never thought he did, but his movies always turned out well. That was

Super-8 though, this is 16mm and a lot of money. There are a million variables in

this business. Someone once said that being a good director mainly consisted of

answering better than 50% of the questions right. This has always made sense to me

but I've never seen it so intensely illustrated. Everyone bombards Sam with questions

continually and I'm not sure if his average is better than 50% at this point. We are

fourteen days into a forty-three day shoot -- one-third of the way in -- "Book of the

Dead" is theoretically one-ninth shot (if it was ever going to run ninety minutes). The

big answer now is "once we get to the cabin things will really move." As far as I can

see it's not too much different from shooting in the car, and that took forever. Sam

doesn't really know what he wants. I'm convinced.

I saw part #2 of "Salem's Lot" on TV and it was drek. "Texas Chainsaw Massacre"

was a fluke. Tobe Hooper is bad -- not even mediocre -- bad.

Sunday, Nov.25th, 1979 --

Today I worked out at the cabin painting. Don and I painted the trim around the

doors and windows battleship grey (as instructed by the Almighty One). When this

was accomplished Sam decided he wanted all the trim brown, so the rest of the day

was spent re-painting.

Just previous to Sam's original decision to paint it grey, I suggested it all be painted

brown and was ignored. I'm getting to be an extreme I-told-you-so.

Today's shooting consisted of a few fake driving shots in the afternoon. The morning

was spent getting the subject car out of the ditch Sam drove it into while attempting a

stunt that had been filmed possibly twenty-five times previously.

This now puts us six days behind.

After work on the cabin, myself, Dart, Don, Rob and Sam piled into the rental truck

and attempted to drive home, however yesterday's and today's rain has almost made

the long driveway to the cabin impassable. Four of us had to push to get the truck up

to the road.

In a few minutes I leave for the Knoxville airport to drop off the film. This is the

second time we've sent out our film on Sunday, the day when the only freight service

open is Delta which happens to be the most expensive.

Monday, Nov. 26th, 1979 --

It's about 10:30 A.M. and Rich and Tim just left to get a couple of second-unit

driving shots. Later today, and supposedly all night, we'll be in the cabin.

Last night, while I drove to the airport, everyone else was out at the cabin working.

Scuttlebutt has it that the middle bedroom is painted yellow and the back white.

Yellow? For a horror movie?

The furniture is to be purchased today, interior shooting tonight.

The Arriflex-S busted and now Bruce is calling equipment rental places in Atlanta to

get another. Ivan Raimi [Sam's older brother] was going to bring one down, but he

doesn't want to make the drive. The footage of the car and truck stunt didn't run

through the Arri-S, however it was covered by the BL and the Bolex, nevertheless,

there are a few more shots lost.

Tuesday, Nov. 27th, 1979 --

We did shoot all last night at the cabin and got some real nice shots. The front room

was absolutely filled with lights, about 7000 watts inside and 3500 outside, and we

did a 90 degree dolly from the porch to in front of them and an upward ramped pull

back/zoom back that should be interesting.

There are more fakery fog shots tonight and I don't know what else. I'm rather

bored of this whole deal and having no one to talk to.

I figured going in that if nothing else I could always talk to Bruce, however that is not

the case. Bruce is either all business (which I'm not part of) or shticking for

everyone, which I find rather tedious.

At first I tried to sit in on the business end of this thing, but found that I was neither a

part, nor wanted. I have ceased this practice.

Early the next morning . . .

Shooting ended about an hour ago, at 7:00 A.M., and we got six shots in total: a

straight-on shot of the car (approaching the bridge) tilted to about 4:00, the camera

tilted to 4:00 and Bruce and Ellen getting out at a normal angle. [A storyboard is

drawn]. I like it.

Thursday, Nov. 29th, 1979 --

Things have gone topsy-turvy. We all changed over to a night schedule that would

permit filming from when it got dark at about 6:30 P.M. to dawn, however within

two days things have gotten pushed to the point of beginning to film last night at 2:00

A.M., then going until noon. It's 1:00 A.M. now and we have yet to begin, nor does

it appear as though we will for another hour or two.

Winter has come, the muddy driveway to the cabin has frozen allowing access to it,

and the cabin itself is now always astoundingly cold inside, even with a big fire and

two space heaters. Last night, on the seventeenth take of an exterior dolly shot the

sync cable froze and we were forced to go in and let it thaw.

Our director is a first-rate mess. He is sleeping at the cabin (someone has to since all

of our power tools were stolen: a skill-saw, saber-saw, drill, chainsaw) and seems to

get more frazzled and less organized by the day.

After completing the filming at noon yesterday, Sam and I put away two-thirds of a

bottle of scotch and smoked four doobs until we were stumbling idiots. I awoke a

few hours later in total pain from sleeping on the floor and hung-over and drove

back. I awoke at 10:30 P.M. and went right back to the cabin. I'm back at the

homestead now taking a shit (actually leaving one) and awaiting the return to the

cabin for filming.

Everyone including myself, is a fried-out wreck. This production is taking its toll.

Saturday, Dec. 1st, 1979 --

We've just returned from another all-night shoot, then breakfast and it's about 9:30

A.M. Early into last evening's proceedings I began drinking "Rebel Yell" bourbon,

smoked a doob, then switched over to scotch and in no time felt incredibly bad. I

tried to sleep on the couch in the main room and couldn't, then moved to the freezing

back-room and crashed on a cot for several hours. When I awoke the sun was just

coming up and Sam was still shooting the same scene as when I retired.

I feel like a total scum-bag. My only consolation is that Sam looks worse and

assuredly feels worse.

We looked at the second load of rushes yesterday and among some real nice shots

(the tire dropping through the bridge) the big events of the truck scene and the

night-time knarled-hand/bridge scene were both let-downs. A bunch of the footage

of the truck scene just wasn't there, and what was there didn't look very good. As

for the bridge, well, it's almost a total waste. the knarled hand effect isn't there, the

crane shot doesn't work and the whole thing looks like a cheap, backyard set.

Sam is now considering shooting both scenes again -- which is obviously insane

since there is possibly twenty-minutes of film shot.

I entirely understand Sam's directorial technique now: he breaks every scene down

to every possible angle and films them all, thus giving himself total latitude in the

editing room. It's a viable method, but not rational for this production.

Sunday, Dec. 2nd, 1979 --

Once again I have just returned from an all-night shoot. Although things were still

slow, they went appreciably faster than usual.

Sam looks like he's on his last leg. Now he's really like a punch-drunk boxer.

Nevertheless, he's still right on top of the action (as he says quite often) and he's

getting some nice footage.

Aside from the fact that I still have serious doubts about the completion of this film

and that neither Betsy, Theresa or Bruce is giving a particularly good performance,

this film will be slick as shit and have some great things in it.

Wednesday, Dec. 5th, 1979 --

Tonight is going to be another all-nighter for two scenes: Ellen running through the

woods and Rich walking into the cabin looking through all the rooms.

Last night I picked the optometrist up at the airport. He had the white "monster"

contact lenses with him for the girls that are just repulsive-looking -- very effective.

An interesting sideline is that they can only be kept in for fifteen minutes, five times a

day. This seems like it ought to effect Sam's shooting style just a bit, and the whole

end of the movie has these contacts in.

On the way back from the airport with the optometrist I took the wrong fork on the

Andrew Johnson Hwy, realized my mistake immediately, turned around on the hwy,

cut across the median and was pulled over by the police. I showed him my license

and he informed me I had just broken about three laws, then asked what I was

doing in Tennessee anyway? I told him I was part of the production of a horror film

called "Book of the Dead" being shot in Morristown, that I had just picked up the

optometrist from the airport who had the white contact lenses for the monsters and I

wasn't sure of my way back to Morristown. He seemed a little incredulous, smiled,

and told me to just keep going the way I was going and that was that.

Also, we (although not I) were on TV yesterday. The Knoxville news filmed this

press conference that Gary has set up, then they all went out to the cabin. It was

kind of funny.

The shit hit the fan yesterday finally and everyone voiced their gripes -- and there

were a lot of them. Rob and Bruce (not Sam) listened to them all, said something

would be done, mainly with getting Sam to straighten out his act, get the schedule

normalized, give someone the job of production manager and someone the job of

assistant cameraman, keeping the house clean and many, many more. Once

everything was aired it was all promptly forgotten and things continue exactly as they

were.

I am tentatively considering just not going back to Detroit. I'd like to meet Sheldon

somewhere between here and L.A. and figuring out what we can do with

"Bloodbath." I'll call him. I would like to rewrite it myself first, but going home will

just cause me grief and despair

-- that I can count on.

We would either have to sell it, which would be okay, but I would rather make it

myself. That would entail a lot of time and money and shooting a short version which

this script doesn't really lend itself to. Also, that much time with Sheldon would drive

me insane.

Much later . . .

The shooting has ceased (it's 7:00 A.M.) and one scene was filmed -- Ellen running

through the woods. It was nicely done: 120 feet of dolly track (particle board), four

1000 watt lights and the 5000 watt light on the driveway, with access to a high angle

shot on one side and a low angle on the other. We did twenty-two takes of her

running in a nightie and undies (it was about 40 degrees), then two of her falling at

the camera.

On the second take she fell hard and scraped her leg, got pissed, began cursing and

said she couldn't film anymore -- shooting came to a halt.

Right now upstairs there is a discussion about upcoming scenes, many of which are

with the contacts which can only come in and out five times a day, fifteen minutes at

a time. For Sam that pretty much means no exact run-through and probably about

two quick takes. Not because I said so, but out of necessity he will have to rehearse

his actors and go for the big takes -- or he will be fucked.

"Book of the Dead" is three full days behind schedule, with no contingency days.

Rob mentioned staying beyond the 22nd today, just in passing.

Saturday, Dec. 8th, 1979 --

I just returned from seeing "Star Trek: the Motion Picture" and am exceedingly

unimpressed, however I did get off from work for a while so I'm still rather pleased

to have seen it.

Ivan and Rob's sister and another fellow arrived today and are presently out at the

location filling Don's and my shoes -- fine, I need a break.

Shooting continues with increased fervor now that the horror scenes have begun and

for most of it the contact lenses are in. Out of necessity we must begin shooting this

film rationally.

Later . . .

I finished "Nine Stories" by J.D. Salinger and they were terrific. I've heard rumors

that there are more of his stories available, I must check it out.

I have an inkling of an idea as to how to adapt the Glass family stories into a single

film

-- something to think about.

Sunday, Dec. 9th, 1979 --

After shooting all day and night we all came home and watched our movies. Only

Tom, Theresa and Ellen saw "Holding It," but they liked it. The big success was

"Happy Valley Kid," which it ought to be.

Monday, Dec. 10th, 1979 --

I spent today watching and logging the rushes. It took me eight hours to watch eight

reels (three remain) and after that my mind was numb. The ulterior motive for my

spending the day watching the rushes is that 1200 feet of film is missing. I did not

locate any of it.

Anyway, I slept for four hours, felt amazingly refreshed and have been up since

reading "Altered States" by Paddy Chayefsky.

I dreamt last night that I was in love and holding her close. Upon awakening I

attributed this woman to Robin [my former girlfriend], but I'm not so sure it was.

Yesterday Dart came up to me out of the blue and said, "Stop trying to get even, get

ahead." He didn't seem able to explain this comment very well, but related it to things

I had said to him and repeated it a few times. It's stuck with me. I am trying to get

even a lot of the time; to do and outdo what Sam has done, to prove myself. But I

really can't do it alone and those I want help from won't do it. They'll let me work for

them, but not with them. I will not work for them ever again. It's been a gainful

experience, but also a compromising position. Next time it's either with them or

without them. I'll work with Cameron if I have to.

Saturday, Dec. 15th, 1979 --

I skipped out of the shoot this evening without asking and with no particularly good

reason. Ivan and his friend came back down here and are playing P.A. so I'm less

than needed, I'm in the way. Well, I won't intentionally be in the way, that's for sure.

Things are progressing at an increasingly slow rate (since all of the difficult things

were saved for last) and the quality seems to be dropping, although Sam continues

to come up with a lot of interesting shots. It seems apparent to several people now

that the final film will be rather short, or, as Tom Sullivan said this evening, "Short of

an hour," which is very short.

Sam seems to be going through some kind of phase in which he has to prove his

manhood. It's done seemingly in jest, but not in totality. For instance, last night we

were shooting Betsy popping her hand out of the grave and grabbing Bruce's arm.

Aside from the fact that it's too much of a rip-off to deal with, it was an insert of a

hand grabbing an arm and we actually buried Betsy. To compound this stupidity it

was 15 degrees out and piercing and Sam once again went into a hyper-meticulous

state and spent 5 hours shooting the insert.

Monday, Dec. 17th, 1979 --

Soon we'll be leaving for the location again and once again I'm dreading it. Last night

was unquestionably the coldest yet, possibly zero and just absurd weather to be

doing extensive exteriors in. Aside from the fact that it's awful to be out in personally,

both lights and cameras resent it, too -- the Arriflex BL freezes up regularly now and

has to be thawed by the fire.

The night before last the tension between cast, crew and head honchos almost came

to the boiling point. I can't finish this now, Sam just told me I have to go.

Tuesday, Dec. 18th, 1979 --

I'm not exactly sure it's Tuesday or the 18th, but anyway . . .

Yesterday's filming was dreadful: it was astoundingly cold, long pauses between

every stage of filming, then Sam did another of his fourteen takes a shot business.

When everyone got home Sam, Rob, Bill (their friend and ex-professor from MSU)

and myself sat around smoking pot, discussing LSD and movies. When everyone

else had retired and I was attempting to draw Sam's storyboards (this was 8:30

A.M.) Sam decided to let me in on how to make it in the directorial world -- "make

a ten-minute gem." This is to show everyone that I can direct. He said that he and

Rob and Bruce would gladly help me.

I was awakened today at noon and just ignored whoever did the waking and was

not re-awakened. It's now 10:00 P.M.

With all of this unexpected time on my hands I read Strindberg's "The Stronger" (I

finished "Altered States" last night), then watched Sam's "ten-minute gem"

"Clockwork" which is fun, has one terrific shot and is immediately forgettable. I also

watched his Shakespeare film, which I had never seen, and was very impressed; it's

very funny.

Even though I haven't got the money I think I will do as he says. Now to think it up.

Later . . .

Several hours ago Betsy called from the location to get Ellen out just as Tom was

completing her make-up. Betsy had mentioned that she had had her contacts in nine

times already, four more than allowed, and there were still shots to do. I called and

spoke with Rob about it and was told to mind my own business. Tom went out with

Ellen to straighten things out and has yet to return.

So, with all this time on my hands I read "The Jaws Log" by Carl Gottlieb which

was interesting.

Friday, Dec. 21st, 1979 --

This filmmaking epoch draws to a close tomorrow for many of us in "Book of the

Dead." Ellen and Betsy both left today, Sunday Rich, myself, Don and Tom will

leave. I'm kind of sad to see it end even if it has been a major source of grief it's also

been very educational. And of all of Sam's drawbacks and inabilities as a director he

never forgot the point of the film and may very well succeed on technique alone.

Early this morning after we had watched "Holding It," Sam's "Shakespeare Film" and

some rushes, Rob, Sam and I smoked some pot and talked and Sam related

filmmaking to being a magician. He said the only thing a magician is thinking about

while performing is, "do they know how I'm doing this trick?" If they don't, he's

succeeding -- period. The point also isn't to just make the film, it's to amaze yourself

and everyone at the same time. If you think what you're doing is neat, chances are

everyone else will, too.

Nothing says I have to leave Sunday, I could stay the next two weeks, but I don't

think it's a real good idea. My services are not particularly needed and feeling

unneeded I become aggravated and despondent, so maybe leaving is the best thing

-- but going home certainly isn't.

Later . . .

If everything works out right I'll be going to the movies tomorrow -- hopefully I'll

catch two.

Sam and Rob asked me to stay on and run sound and I agreed. I have no reason to

go home, so why not spend Christmas and New Year with the boys.

And they asked me.

Saturday, Dec. 22nd, 1979 --

I'm presently seated in the Capri Terrace in Knoxville, Tenn. awaiting the beginning

of "The Black Hole" which is in about a half hour. Surprisingly enough this isn't a bad

theater: mildly large screen, reclining seats, decent sound system, this should be

okay. After this I'm going to see "1941," then I've got to get to the airport at 10:00

P.M. to get a ride back. Because of the late date I may be better off calling in my

reviews to Rick and have her transcribe them.

Scott Joplin rags are playing pleasantly as I wait out the purgatory of sitting in a

movie theater before the film.

Later . . .

I'm sitting on the side of the road in Knoxville waiting for Ivan Raimi to pick me up.

The instructions on how to get here were pretty easy, but Ivan'll never find it. Aside

from having no sense of direction he didn't pay much attention to me when I

explained. I'm sitting here for naught.

Sunday, Dec. 23rd, 1979 --

Early this morning Rich, John, Don and Tom all left for home and now just the

rot-gut cast and crew is left -- and Ted Raimi. What he's doing here I couldn't say,

however within an hour of Ted's arrival I wanted to kill him. I was vainly attempting

to re-write my reviews and Ted did almost everything within his means to distract

me, and thoroughly succeeded.

At this point I still have two reviews to do and my only recourse will be to read them

to Rick over the phone.

So now I'm sound man. Although I haven't yet used the mixer, everything else is

fairly simple. The stuff I did last night sounds fine.

Dec. 28th, Friday, 1979 --

Another long night of shooting. It's 8:00 A.M. and I'm just going to bed.

Cameron and Ditz are here adding a new, dryer flavor of humor to the scene. John is

apparently very bitter about this and has said that he hates Sam.

Interestingly enough, Sam and I are getting along rather well. He's a zombie, of

course, bearded, dazed and confused, but he keeps it all going.

Tom Sullivan returned, a fresh, self-produced contract in hand demanding the rights

to all his creations, $100.00 a day for being here after his old contract expired

(although that was amended) and an assurance that he leaves the 29th. After that we

do our own make-up and effects.

Goodnight.

Saturday, Dec. 29th, 1979 --

Lately Tim Philo has been rather pointed with me and any others who don't

immediately respond to the call of duty with sarcastic quips. Several times I have

found appropriate moments to use his quips right back at him, which always makes

him smile. He and I just went out to breakfast and talked and happily there are no

hard feelings at all.

Tom Sullivan leaves today, which should add some major obstacles to filming.

What's left is almost all special effects and make-up and the most difficult aspects of

both. Although I almost totally agree with Tom's P.O.V., his leaving us in the lurch

with his effects on the line rather self-defeating. His point that this film is an "effects

film" and he wasn't entrusted with his job until the last minute is valid, he should have

been in on the proceedings from as early as possible. Anyway, his departure is going

to make this last bit of filming a bigger chore than it already is.

And, this just occurred to me, if my reviews do not appear in this month's

"Magazine" I will be compelled to quit.

Monday, Dec. 30th, 1979 --

Actually, it's the last day of the seventies, but I'm running a day behind. The eighties

will be ushered in as myself and compadres frantically attempt to finish "Book of the

Dead." The idea of working on a film through the decade appeals to me, although