I'm an invariant reader of movie credits, but I don't delve so deeply to know the names of location managers and sound technicians. I wasn't aware of Robert Maier's name until recently. I should have, because I've seen Love Letter to Edie. his short documentary about the most unlikely movie star of all time, Edith Massie.
Maier worked on early-to-mid John Waters movies. He was also on the crews of a couple of beloved slasher movies: Alone in the Dark and The House on Sorority Row.
Somehow a nerdy, nice guy ended up on movie sets of iniquity with John Waters and his crew of miscreants and misfits while making Female Trouble, Desperate Living, and other trash classics. He survived and wrote a book about it.
I enjoyed the first half of Low Budget Hell quite a bit. It wasn't going to win any literary awards, but the book is engaging and informative. It's nice to hear some insider views and tidbits that do not appear in John's own memoirs.
The smartest thing John Waters ever did was make himself a persona in our culture. He made more money from books, personal appearances, and small roles in films than he has from his own productions. Maier witnessed John's metamorphosis from greasy thrift store fashion victim who survived on trashy food to eccentrically posh fop.
Maier was also present in the post-punk New York art scene, and he rubbed noses with Warhol, Basquiat, The Ramones, Blondie, and many others. Unlike some accounts I've seen, Low Budget Hell doesn't come across as ego-stroking or name-dropping. He seems like a guy who was grateful to bear witness to historic times and events.
Robert Maier yearned to escape the hell of low budget movies, but when he had a taste of the big time, he didn't seem to have what it takes to swim with cinematic sharks.
Things didn't go well for the man during the Hairspray shoot. Maier is particularly vindictive toward New Line Cinema. Low Budget Hell begins to seem like a nasty hatchet job against the company. He has a lot of ire toward Robert Shaye and Rachel Talalay. I don't know these individuals, but I've always admired the work they did.
Hairspray was a mid-level film, but Waters worked for a big studio with Crybaby. That's when things turned especially sour for Maier. Despite his protestations of innocence, it's hard not to suspect culpability on Maier's part. Everyone from the Hollywood crew to old collaborators turned against him. The experience effectively destroyed Maier's longtime friendship and working relationship with John Waters.
A conciliatory afterword helped a little, but Low Budget Hell left a nasty taste in my mouth. Rather like watching Pink Flamingos does. It would be a much more enjoyable read had Maier kept the vitriol to a minimum.
I recommend the book, but you might be more satisfied if you read up to the chapter about Hairspray and then put it down.
Written by Mark Sieber
Maier worked on early-to-mid John Waters movies. He was also on the crews of a couple of beloved slasher movies: Alone in the Dark and The House on Sorority Row.
Somehow a nerdy, nice guy ended up on movie sets of iniquity with John Waters and his crew of miscreants and misfits while making Female Trouble, Desperate Living, and other trash classics. He survived and wrote a book about it.
I enjoyed the first half of Low Budget Hell quite a bit. It wasn't going to win any literary awards, but the book is engaging and informative. It's nice to hear some insider views and tidbits that do not appear in John's own memoirs.
The smartest thing John Waters ever did was make himself a persona in our culture. He made more money from books, personal appearances, and small roles in films than he has from his own productions. Maier witnessed John's metamorphosis from greasy thrift store fashion victim who survived on trashy food to eccentrically posh fop.Maier was also present in the post-punk New York art scene, and he rubbed noses with Warhol, Basquiat, The Ramones, Blondie, and many others. Unlike some accounts I've seen, Low Budget Hell doesn't come across as ego-stroking or name-dropping. He seems like a guy who was grateful to bear witness to historic times and events.
Robert Maier yearned to escape the hell of low budget movies, but when he had a taste of the big time, he didn't seem to have what it takes to swim with cinematic sharks.
Things didn't go well for the man during the Hairspray shoot. Maier is particularly vindictive toward New Line Cinema. Low Budget Hell begins to seem like a nasty hatchet job against the company. He has a lot of ire toward Robert Shaye and Rachel Talalay. I don't know these individuals, but I've always admired the work they did.
Hairspray was a mid-level film, but Waters worked for a big studio with Crybaby. That's when things turned especially sour for Maier. Despite his protestations of innocence, it's hard not to suspect culpability on Maier's part. Everyone from the Hollywood crew to old collaborators turned against him. The experience effectively destroyed Maier's longtime friendship and working relationship with John Waters.
A conciliatory afterword helped a little, but Low Budget Hell left a nasty taste in my mouth. Rather like watching Pink Flamingos does. It would be a much more enjoyable read had Maier kept the vitriol to a minimum.
I recommend the book, but you might be more satisfied if you read up to the chapter about Hairspray and then put it down.
Written by Mark Sieber
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