Misunderstood Masterpieces: . . . And God Spoke

Posted by Will Helm on 07.04.2006

…or, The Author Has a Rare and Powerful Moment of Clarity

Over the course of cinematic history, oftentimes filmmakers would turn the camera on their oft confusing and convoluted business for laughs. Half a century ago, Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen did just that in the wonderful – and funny – musical Singin' in the Rain. More recently, filmmakers have seen the movie business as a never-ending source of absurdity and it has been fuel for many lauded auteurs and independent filmmakers. For example, legendary director Robert Altman took on the industry in the well-regarded – and biting -- The Player while a few years after, some of the indie-movie all-stars – like Steve Buscemi, Catherine Keener, etc. – were brought together to star in the madcap Living in Oblivion.

Of course, there are many more examples of films mocking filmmaking, but one stands out by being insanely absurd and very independent and mixing the subject matter with a genre first truly expressed in the masterful This Is Spinal Tap: the mockumentary. In 1993's . . . And God Spoke, the true filmmakers film a documentary about a pair of ambitious – yet fictional – filmmakers' quest to make a low-budget movie of . . . the Bible. Even though it has such a hilarious concept behind it, . . . And God Spoke was, sadly, very under the radar and even relegated to sporadic showings on cable. Should this treatment of the "Greatest Story Ever Told" really be treated with such disregard? Perhaps not . . . especially if . . . And God Spoke is a Misunderstood Masterpiece! Let's find out if it is!

To begin the documentary – but not the film within the documentary . . . I have a feeling this is really going to get confusing – the producer, Marvin Handleman (Stephen Rappaport), and the director, Clive Walton (Michael Riley), sit for an interview. Very early into the interview, the two fledgling filmmakers patronize the viewer by slowly and rudely explaining the principles of filmmaking and even the concept of film. Don't worry, guys; I've seen enough of them . . . I think I've got it by now. Then, to truly begin the film proper, the two filmmakers recount their long and storied history together as they met on the set of a terrible movie during the ‘70s. Sadly, from there, they just don't know how to quit each other.

And I still don't know how to get rid of outdated Brokeback Mountain jokes.

After sharing a cab together back then, Marvin and Clive then went on to be creators of a slew of sexploitation films, mainly involving murders with phones and topless ninjas. Then, for some reason, one of the topless ninjas speaks directly to me . . . by name. Hmm . . . that has to be a sign. I'll keep a closer eye on this movie; it speaks to me . . . literally. Marvin and Clive, like Ed Wood before them, are philosophical and optimistic about their body of work, no matter how terrible the public at large may believe it is. It's sad; some would consider that denial, while most in the movie industry would probably consider that normal. I guess it's just something the average Joe wouldn't understand . . . which is probably why they were patronizing the viewer at the beginning of the film. Now it all makes sense.

After reminiscing about their previous oeuvre, Marvin and Clive then reveal the subject of their latest epic: the Bible! Meanwhile, somewhere else in Los Angeles, their executive producer is really excited . . . about his video game. He's mildly enthusiastic about the film, though, mainly because Marvin and Clive always find a way to make a profit. Please remember that for future reference. In order to make the film more practical, Marvin and Clive cut out most of the Bible – even though the screenwriter thought he was an evangelist of sorts and that God was writing through him – which can never be good. Especially in a film where the Bible is the subject matter. That'd be the equivalent of condensing the Star Wars films into one two-hour movie . . . which would certainly be interesting. At least it would mean miniscule appearances by Jar Jar and Jake Lloyd.

While Marvin and Clive excise what they can from the script, the art director smells pieces of old wood to inspire his vision for the film. He definitely needs some inspiration, since his last works were music videos. Then again, some of the music videos of the ‘80s were pretty epic, so it may just work . . . especially if leather vests worn with no shirt underneath are part of the costume. Later, Marvin and Clive go to a location expo and, while there, they chat with a crazy Jordanian who offers them Mt. Ararat and a falafel. It's too bad Bill O'Reilly isn't there; he'd definitely take up the offer for the falafel . . . but what he does with it in the privacy of his own home is his own business.

Elsewhere, the casting director auditions HOT CHICKS for the role of the Virgin Mary, which is just conceptually hilarious. The HOT CHICKS in casting think that they'll have to put out to get the role – oh, irony! – but their fears are allayed when the casting director turns out to be a woman. Later, the film moves ahead by leaps and bounds when the casting director reveals that she found Jesus . . . literally. Of course, the casting of God becomes a challenge, as Marvin and Clive wanted Brando for the role but the casting director believes that they can only get has-beens – like the great Anson Williams – to play God. Hmm . . . although wasn't Brando playing God in The Island of Dr. Moreau last week? Weird.

Sometime later, various wannabe Gods audition for the role; meanwhile, I expect The Spirit of Truth to bust through the door at any minute with his pimp cane and phone-book Bible in hand. He'd be my vote to play God, personally. After nearly everything is ready, Clive and Marvin have a meeting with the rest of the crew – one of which is public/cable-television how-to maven and unlikely sex symbol (and undercover comedy writer) Joanne Liebeler – and, helpfully, the rest of the characters introduce themselves to the documentary. During the meeting, Clive and Marvin, not wanting to hear anything but good news about the project, argue with the Assistant Director and then, after settling things down, Clive and Marvin leave . . . and the meeting really begins in earnest.

Over on the set, the crew assembles the camera track while nude Adam has delusions of grandeur regarding his part . . . no pun intended. After Adam is finished pontificating, Marvin leads the crew in a "prayer" – mostly a bastardization of the "Our Father" – and then, while some of the crew fight the urge to laugh at Marvin's mock piety, shooting finally starts . . . until Eve has a problem with the nudity. Unlike most starlets, however, the actress portraying Eve for this picture doesn't have a problem with getting naked on camera per se; the actress just has a very bizarre tattoo running from her shoulder to her hip . . . on her front. Oops. There goes some of the foreign capital for this movie; they love their nudity! Ironically, the ersatz Eve was actually auditioning for the role of the Virgin Mary initially . . . because everyone knows those Aramaic virgins had very elaborate tattoos.

After filming wraps for the day, Clive and Marvin sit for another interview where they sugarcoat the troubles of the day. The next day, the documentary crew chats with the caterer, who takes his job a little too seriously . . . especially with his low-rent, subject-themed tablescapes. Sandra Lee would be proud. Meanwhile, the snake handler, on hand to provide "Satan" for the film, is philosophical regarding the true nature of snakes in relation to evil. Ah . . . there's nothing like random profundity in an independent mockumentary. Elsewhere, while Marvin has an impromptu session with the documentary crew, some union workers "hilariously" yell at him for leaning on their truck. Oh yeah . . . someone's getting kneecapped tonight.

Unfortunately for all involved, there's a bit of TENSION when the film falls grossly behind schedule because one of the stoner production assistants lost the film stock somehow. The irate assistant director finds the film in the P.A.'s trunk . . . and it's covered in syrup for no particular reason. I guess someone told him it tasted like pancakes and he believed them. The assistant director – wishing for the film to get back on track – sends the P.A. back out on the road to have the film developed but the P.A., who helpfully explains that he's from San Diego, doesn't know his way around Los Angeles and he gets lost once more. Ah, Hollywood.

While the filmmakers wait for their dailies to return from processing, the documentary crew interviews the crazy, stereotypical Middle Eastern cinematographer, who cut his teeth while filming bread, a work that was so unbelievable that some guy gave him a light meter. Perhaps fittingly, when the dailies come in, they're unwatchably dark because the cinematographer has no idea of the concept of lighting. Marvin and Clive, seeing their dream project torpedoed at every turn, scream at the cinematographer and accuse him of being "artsy." Ooh . . . them's fightin' words.

Marvin and Clive, finished with berating the cinematographer, have another interview with the documentary crew and, during the chat, they confess that they're not really religious – which is pretty obvious considering the quality of the film they're making, but I digress – and, between the lines, they reveal that they're really just morons. Elsewhere, "Jesus" talks with the documentary crew and states that he's been preparing intently for this role because he's a method actor. So he's been curing the blind and turning water into wine? He'd be good to have around for parties, I must say. Later, while a grip complains about his heavy workload, "Jesus" "walks" on water. Elsewhere, the ostentatious, gay makeup artist brags about making up "Jesus" and the assistant director tells some bad, drawn out joke that makes no sense. Hmm . . . might that be a microcosm for the movie?

Finally, Marvin and Clive begin set to shooting once again, this time the famous "walking on water" scene. One – of many – problems, though: they only have eight apostles! Oh the hilarity. After polling the crew and figuring out that there were actually ten apostles on the boat – go read your favorite gospel to find out why that's funny – Marvin and Clive enlist the help of a few of the P.A.'s on set . . . and then they argue about the scene. Later that evening, the crew watches the dailies – which I think they technically do every day – and witness the grandeur of a bunch of terrible apostles "marveling" at an unenthusiastic Christ walking on the water. One of the studio guys, on hand to see just what Marvin and Clive have been up to, is not pleased by their progress.

Consequently, the studio cuts quite a bit of the film's funding and schedule, so Marvin and Clive excise a good portion of the script . . . including Jesus. Luckily for them, they still have Moses and, at the moment, Cain and Abel, whose big scene they're shooting at the moment. In a stroke of luck and/or genius, the casting director blessed the film with two actual stars to portray the legendary brothers: Lou Ferrigno – as Cain – and Andy Dick – as Abel! Even more excitingly, Marvin and Clive have enlisted the aid of a martial artist to choreograph the scene because, as everyone who has studied the Bible knows, Cain slew Abel with a well-placed dropkick. He later went on to travel the world and then change his name to Bob Holly.

That may not be far from the truth, however, as a somewhat dejected Andy Dick, behind the scenes, confesses that he thought he was working with Hulk Hogan rather than The Incredible Hulk. Of course, it could have been The Incredible Hulk Hogan, but the trademark issues are just to confusing to manage. When the stars and crew finally get down to shooting the scene, Andy Dick plays Abel as a crazy spaz, so Lou Ferrigno "accidentally" busts his face. At least now we all knew the real reason why Cain murdered Abel: he wasn't jealous, he was very annoyed.

Later, at a nearby soundstage, the crew readies for the filming of one of the great set pieces of the movie: Noah's ark. Marvin, ever the optimist, is really pleased with the shoot so far, even though it's grossly behind schedule and over budget. Eh . . . sometimes one has to take the bad with the good, I suppose. Yet again, the casting director scores another coup as Jan Brady herself, Eve Plumb, arrives to play . . . "Mrs. Noah." Well, no one said the filmmakers were up on their research. Although one would think it'd make more sense to cast Eve Plumb as "Eve," but that's just my opinion. Anyway, while the absent-minded P.A. hits on Jan Brady, she confesses that she has a bit of a problem with stealing animals and she really doesn't like it when people accidentally – or even intentionally – call her "Jan." Umm . . . oops. Sorry about that, Ms. Plumb. By the way, how is your husband? You know, the professor?

Meanwhile, while the guy playing Noah complains about constantly being cut out of movies and his sad fate as a mall Santa year in and year out, a buffalo dies on the set! Oh well; Marvin and Clive won't be getting their Human Society clearance this time. Finally, just as the art director triumphantly brings the ark into the soundstage . . . it gets stuck in the door. Unsurprisingly, this leads to a visitation by a horde of studio executives who want to see just what they've been sinking their money into for the past few months. That evening the executives, accompanied by Marvin and Clive, watch the extant footage of the film and are horrified to see an unenthusiastic Adam and Eve and Lou Ferrigno beating up Andy Dick. Although, I must admit, the latter of those would be quite hilarious in any other context.

Some time afterward, the crew readies the Burning Bush scene and their pyrotechnics expert prepares a huge explosion for just that occasion. Ah . . . so that's where all the money went. At least it wasn't all spent on a miniature Stonehenge. Wait . . . wrong movie. While Clive and the pyrotechnics guy chat about safe distances and not killing the crew, Marvin takes a call from the executive producer and he learns that the rest of the executives aren't happy at all about the film. Gee . . . I wonder why? Moments later, just as the Burning Bush fizzles out, analogously the film fizzles out as well as the studio pulls the plug on the production. No word on whether or not they plan on hiring Renny Harlan to reshoot the film, though.

In the weeks after, Marvin, at his best, tries multiple times to scam his way onto the studio lot, but to no avail. Meanwhile, Clive visits his kindly, elderly uncle who seems a bit befuddled by the documentary crew following around his nephew. He gets comfortable in a hurry, though, as he immediately starts complaining about his wife and her spending habits for no particular reason. Clive, not content with being a confidant to his uncle, is merely there for money to help fund the picture, but his uncle refuses Clive's request and gives him salami and a universal remote instead. Yeah . . . that makes sense. As most of their fund-raising attempts have been all for naught, Marvin and Clive elect to go on with the show . . . with $275,000 to their name.

Next, the crew – now with an extremely low budget – prepares the manger scene and the visitation of the magi – even though I thought they were cutting out Jesus – behind a church somewhere in California. For some reason, Marvin tells Clive that they need to give one of the angels a few lines, perhaps because the angel let Marvin do naughty things to her halo. While some guy wastes time by playing with the Jesus doll, a cop shows up to break up the shoot due to permit problems. Marvin, shrewdly, smoothes over the situation by simply casting the cop as a shepherd in the scene. OK . . . this is quickly starting to reach Ed Wood levels of parody here.

Later, the documentary crew, probably tired of the boring characters of Marvin and Clive – because a scheming producer and tortured director only go so far – interviews God (R.C. Bates). I give them credit for setting their sights high; what better than to interview God? Except maybe for Satan . . . that'd be a much more interesting exclusive. Anyway, God, perhaps hilariously, shows off his tattoos and then he describes an old Led Zeppelin show in remarkable detail for a guy who was probably stoned out of his gourd the whole time. Perhaps to keep the film lively, Moses (Soupy Sales) arrives on the scene and he and God chat for a bit. Although, with this God, Moses really ought to be careful about the kind of tablets he gets.

When the rest of the crew is ready, Clive and Marvin team up to describe the scene to Moses and then they discuss Moses' motivation. Moses, perhaps confused by the mixed messages, counteracts by telling bad jokes. Yes, yes . . . tip your waitresses and try the veal. After all this preparation, the crew finally begins the scene and Moses emerges from Mt. Sinai with the two stone tablets in hand . . . and a six pack of Coca-Cola. Well, it does get hot in the desert, so what better to quench a Biblical character's thirst? Clive, unhappy with the blatant product placement in his film – maybe he needs some Nuprin – freaks out, so Marvin fires Clive and takes over the shoot.

In the aftermath, Clive drowns his sorrows in cheap liquor because he's "cursed" by a "vision." And here I thought his only curse was a distinct lack of talent. I guess I was wrong. Elsewhere, Marvin cuts the movie together with an editor friend of his and they work, specifically, on the Moses scene from moments earlier. In order to facilitate the multitudes of Israelites at the foot of the mountain, the editor, in a fit of genius, splices in concert-audience footage, much to Marvin's chagrin. The editor, meanwhile, in a confession to the camera, states that he'd be much more interested in hunting grizzly bears than cutting the film . . . which can only mean there's going to be a bloody, homicidal massacre in his immediate future. I hope Marvin knows self-defense techniques.

Sometime later, Marvin and Clive – who must have reconciled off camera; hopefully there was candlelight and champagne involved – present the movie to an assembly of executives and potential investors in a plea to get the money to finish the film properly. Unfortunately, after screening the film, the prospective investors leave early and leave no money behind. Marvin, finally at wit's end, elects to do the only thing he can at this point: he takes a home-equity loan out on his house! Dum-dum-DUM! I hope he got DiTech.

After Marvin injects his remaining funds into the picture, it goes to the foley artists who add sound effects while some old guy explains how it all works. Later, Marvin scores the film with an accordion while Clive makes some animal noises in the background to add ambience. Finally, after months of hard work and crises, Clive and Marvin have their premiere . . . in a mall. Unfortunately, after the big debut, Chris Kattan tells the documentary crew he didn't like it . . . and neither did anyone else who saw it. The Hollywood Reporter, friend to films everywhere, give it a horrible review and, while Marvin tries to spin it optimistically, he and Clive learn that the Communists liked it. Well, they've got that going for them. Which is nice.

In the ultimate aftermath, evangelicals protest the film's existence – even though they'll protest any film even tangentially related to God . . . I once saw them picketing outside a photographer's studio because he had pictures of a church inside – and Michael Medved – before he turned into a crazy blowhard – gives his two cents on the matter. Soupy Sales, sadly, becomes a hated recluse, as does Eve Plumb. Sadly, Clive and Marvin vent their rage at the documentary crew and send them away . . . . ne'er to be seen again. That is, until a year later, when . . . And God Spoke – the film within the film with the same name as the film – is now a cult hit and Marvin and Clive are there basking in the glory of it all. Happily, they're back on their feet once again, planning a comedic version of The Iliad and living happily ever after.

To be honest, the denouement of . . . And God Spoke has got me thinking. Even though the movie is conceptually funny – but not laugh-out-loud hilarious – sometimes I have to wonder if, like the film within the film here, my works bring greater respect and publicity to films which shouldn't necessarily be seen. Perhaps, in some way, what I do is self-defeating. I make many of these films seem better than they are and, in doing so, I make people want to see them. Is that a good thing? Is that really what I want? Perhaps I've got it all wrong . . .

Haha . . . of course not. I love what I do . . . I make these movies suffer.

Join me next week as Nicole Kidman brings a little magic to the column – and not the practical variety – as I bring three pieces of evidence why television shows should not be made into movies. See you then!