I remember William Butler from appearances in minor classics like Leatherface: Texas Chainsaw Massacre III, Night of the Living Dead (1990), and Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood. He seemed like a nerdy cool guy. There was nothing too special about his performances, but to my mind he was a small Scream King.
I heard he had a book of memoirs, and I thought it might be a fun stroll down horror lane. I ordered a copy but was detered by the tiny print. I put off reading it until last week. It seemed like a good time.
Butler's story is fairly predictable. He went from likably dorky kid to gosh wow! entry into the world of low budget filmmaking. Butler struggled along the way, but he eked out a living. He became more successful and the Hollywood meat grinder nearly killed him. In the end William Butler emerges as a more or less happy and adjusted human being.
The early parts are the most enjoyable. Butler recounts his harrowing early days with candor and humor. He found work, balancing between special effects and acting, and ultimately worked his way up to writing and directing. Along the way he lost his soul.
William Butler's downfall is difficult to read. I've never exactly been an alter boy, but this guy's exploits were gross and cruel. He became profoundly unlikable in the third quarter of the book. I actually began to hate him.
Maybe part of it was jealousy on my part. I wasn't too different a kid than William Butler. Why didn't I end up in show biz?
Well, for one thing, William Butler had friends who helped encourage his career. For another he took chances, crazy ones at times, to pursue his dreams.
Butler redeems himself by the end. His bad behavior and rotten attitude nearly killed him. He found himself, the fan who came to the field for love and imagination, and became sober. Good for him.
I thought about it. Butler talks about the casting couch and while he doesn't go into details, it sounds horrible. Many of the people he worked with sound like awful human beings. Why would I want that life? I sometimes feel like I was happier when I was merely a fan than in my own efforts work in publishing.
I don't envy William Butler or anyone else in show business. The glamour seems like an illusion. Too many people turn to hard drugs and other destructive behavior. I'm better off without it.
I didn't exactly love Tawdry Tales and Confessions from Horror's Boy Next Door, but I'm glad I read it. The book makes me feel more content with my uncomplicated life. My wife, our home, cats, books, movies, and music. What more could I want?
A quick glance at IMDb showed Butler prolifically working on movies I'll never watch for Charles Band's Full Moon Entertainment. They may be fun little pictures, but I can't see myself watching Baby Oopsie. It's good, though, to see William Butler doing what he always wanted to do. Telling stories, making movies, living his dream. I can't imagine there's a lot money in it, but I hope he is happy and content.
Written by Mark Sieber
I heard he had a book of memoirs, and I thought it might be a fun stroll down horror lane. I ordered a copy but was detered by the tiny print. I put off reading it until last week. It seemed like a good time.
Butler's story is fairly predictable. He went from likably dorky kid to gosh wow! entry into the world of low budget filmmaking. Butler struggled along the way, but he eked out a living. He became more successful and the Hollywood meat grinder nearly killed him. In the end William Butler emerges as a more or less happy and adjusted human being.
The early parts are the most enjoyable. Butler recounts his harrowing early days with candor and humor. He found work, balancing between special effects and acting, and ultimately worked his way up to writing and directing. Along the way he lost his soul.
William Butler's downfall is difficult to read. I've never exactly been an alter boy, but this guy's exploits were gross and cruel. He became profoundly unlikable in the third quarter of the book. I actually began to hate him.
Maybe part of it was jealousy on my part. I wasn't too different a kid than William Butler. Why didn't I end up in show biz?
Well, for one thing, William Butler had friends who helped encourage his career. For another he took chances, crazy ones at times, to pursue his dreams.
Butler redeems himself by the end. His bad behavior and rotten attitude nearly killed him. He found himself, the fan who came to the field for love and imagination, and became sober. Good for him.
I thought about it. Butler talks about the casting couch and while he doesn't go into details, it sounds horrible. Many of the people he worked with sound like awful human beings. Why would I want that life? I sometimes feel like I was happier when I was merely a fan than in my own efforts work in publishing.
I don't envy William Butler or anyone else in show business. The glamour seems like an illusion. Too many people turn to hard drugs and other destructive behavior. I'm better off without it.
I didn't exactly love Tawdry Tales and Confessions from Horror's Boy Next Door, but I'm glad I read it. The book makes me feel more content with my uncomplicated life. My wife, our home, cats, books, movies, and music. What more could I want?
A quick glance at IMDb showed Butler prolifically working on movies I'll never watch for Charles Band's Full Moon Entertainment. They may be fun little pictures, but I can't see myself watching Baby Oopsie. It's good, though, to see William Butler doing what he always wanted to do. Telling stories, making movies, living his dream. I can't imagine there's a lot money in it, but I hope he is happy and content.
Written by Mark Sieber
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