A VALID CAREER
OPTION
It was a sweltering day when I almost got
shot in the head. Lila and I had just stepped into the
refrigerated air of the gun club and plonked down enough camera
gear to exhaust even the sturdiest of Sherpas. We were glad to
get inside, out of the punishing, downtown LA sun. The summer
wind was kicking up a pale grey dust that looked like a mix of
ground up cinder blocks and asbestos, and it was making my
otherwise gorgeous black cape seem dull and lifeless.We called ahead, so they knew we were coming to film a scene. But in retrospect, seeing me in my superhero outfit might have given them the impression that I was unstable. Plus, I had a number of gadgets on my utility belt, several of which could easily have been mistaken for a gun. I walked up to the guy behind the counter and calmly said: “I’m going to start by shooting everyone in here. Then, I’m going to go to the range in the back and shoot everyone there... and then when I’m done, I’m going to shoot myself.”
The sound of a gun being cocked especially for you is the singularly most frightening thing you could ever hear. Its authority was loud enough to silence the entire room, and the kind of person that visits a firing range in the middle of the day during a workweek isn’t prone to quiet tea room-like pleasantries.
 Lila McLaughlin: "Film, not shoot." |
Later, as I thought about how close it came to ending, I wasn’t surprised. After all, getting this far began with another scrape with death. One year earlier I had been sitting in hospital after having blacked out on a bus in West Hollywood.
It was on a similarly burning hot day and everything around me had turned blurry and confused. I was flopping and twitching worse than Han Solo after Princess Leia had freed him from the Carbonite in Jabba's Palace. The thing that saved me that time was some dude’s half-finished bottle of Vitamin Water. I didn’t care, my lights were going dim, so I snatched the bottle from his hands and downed it. Pretty adventurous, coming from someone who lathers his groceries with Purell before putting them in his fridge. It was the jolt I needed until I could dial 911. The last place in the world you want to be unconscious is on a bus in LA.
I was in hospital for a month with anemia, a bonus side benefit
of having rampaging colitis. I decided then that life was short
and that I was going to do everything I had always wanted to,
regardless of the consequences. I was in LA to pursue my
filmmaking career, but as is only to be expected, it was taking
longer than anticipated. That golden future we imagine for
ourselves always seems to be just out of reach, but I was
determined to make something happen fast. As soon as I was well
enough to walk for more than five minutes without collapsing, I
was released from hospital with a ream of prescriptions that
amounted to thirty-one pills a day. Not too bad, considering the
alternative.It was yet another setback in a magnificent run of bad luck that had come my way. Not long before I had collapsed and had to spend that month in hospital -- being brought back from the brink via immunosuppression drugs, steroids, blood transfusions and intravenous iron -- my apartment had been robbed. They took everything that wasn’t nailed down, including my gorgeous Apple laptop. I lived in a seedy neighborhood, and “hiding” it under my pillow probably wasn’t my shrewdest move.
The feeling of injustice from being robbed, together with my newfound sense of urgency to get things done, is what compelled me to pick up a cape and a lightsaber and become the only thing I ever wanted to be: a real superhero.
That kind of adventure was nothing new to me, it's all I ever did as a kid. I praise the influence of Batman, Superman, Luke Skywalker and Indiana Jones for forging me into a fearless daredevil. As a kid I filled my days with physical training, weapons practice or just finding something high to jump off. Somewhere in the back of my mind I just assumed these skills would come in handy at some point in my life. Without question, I believed the time would come that I would have to escape a horde of goons or flee a scene, so I figured I might as well start preparing. Looping that rousing Indy theme song in your head can really make you do some crazy things.
 David and Professor Bill Keig. "That's unethical. I can't manipulate your DNA and turn you into a cheetah." |
Without those options available, however, I had to take the mortal route. My doctor begged me to take it easy but I refused to listen; I had stared death in the face and come out the other end feeling invincible. The same steroids that were helping to keep my disease at bay also gave me insane energy. Despite the constant dizziness and jabbing pain in my gut, I felt stronger than I had ever been. I wasn't about to turn away from my destiny, and I wanted the whole world to know about it -- that idea became the movie HERO MAN.
Sometimes the best stories write themselves. I had come to LA
wanting to make films that were about following your heart and
the unexpected places that can take you. So what better way to
fulfill that hope than to document my own journey?I sold my car and emptied my savings account. Even if some production company had agreed to make my movie, I didn’t want to have to risk changing anything to satisfy their vision. I was going to make this movie my way. It might have been the cocktail of narcotics swimming around my blood, or the lack of iron in my brain, but it seemed like the sanest thing I had ever done.
We had next to no money. Most movie productions would burn through our total budget just for catering on the first day. Fortunately, I have wonderful friends that work in the industry, and who agreed to lend their time and talent. Because starting with $25,000 for a feature film is like starting with $25,000 for a space program. It won’t get you even half the way there, and you’re guaranteed to come crashing back to earth.
Since
we had a micro-budget, we couldn't be spending valuable dollars
on lavish things like film permits, safety equipment or
commonsense. I knew our finished product wasn't going to be as
polished as Jurassic Park, but I made sure things stayed
thrilling by putting myself in the line of fire. I'm proud to
say that every single fall, kick, punch, and lightsaber whack to
the head I received was completely real. Fans expect a certain
level of action from a movie about a superhero, and I didn't
want to disappoint them.That said, I wouldn't define HERO MAN as an action movie: we filmed things as they happened, there are no flame-throwers or exploding helicopters. If there were, chances are you would have seen me on the nightly news in handcuffs. We set out to document the struggle of a regular guy trying to be a real superhero. And when there were times that I was too sick to stand, the slow-motion train wreck of my life is what you see on screen. As much as it seems as though I was living a fantasy, true life kept kicking down my door and busting up the party.
For one scene, we arranged for me to challenge a Tae Kwon Do master to battle, so that I could test my fighting readiness. After ten minutes of sparring I was hallucinating and ready to puke. Without a word, I ditched the crew and drove home so I could lie down in a dark, quiet room. What you see in the movie is the cast and crew arriving at my apartment already launched into a full-blown intervention, demanding we shut down production and that I seek help immediately.
Of course, there was no chance of that happening. We didn't have enough footage to finish our movie yet.
And we went all out to get the job done. The single best way known to man to attract every whack-job in a hundred mile radius is to announce that you're shooting a feature film. I've had to change my cell number and e-mail address at least twice, as well as deflect more than one marriage proposal. But when you can't afford to hire security, or rent a location, that comes with the territory. And strangely enough, more often than not our movie was better for it -- like during our sidekick interviews.
 "Xela" trains HERO MAN. |
With that in mind, I placed an ad on Craigslist calling for comic book fans to come try out for the position of my trusty sidekick. I wanted someone who was fearless about going shoulder-to-shoulder with me against the seediest ruffians LA had to offer. The results were less badass and more crazy pants. An odd assortment of Comic-Con fringe-dwellers and armed loners arrived at my apartment (big mistake) for two straight days of filming. Most notably, a Japanese dude who did an unspeakable act with my precious Force FX lightsaber (proposal #1). Thank God for bleach and Purell.
At the end of the day it was all about the quality footage we were banking. I was putting my body on the line, and my cast and crew were willing to run an insane gauntlet because we knew the results would be entertaining on screen. I chose the name HERO MAN for myself because it's the only one that seemed to fit after all I had been through, but it is also for all the wonderful people who worked to make the movie happen. They are heroes too for surviving what sometimes made the set of Apocalypse Now seem like a skip in the park on a Sunday afternoon.
 Nemeses. |
A year later the movie is finished and doing the festival circuit, and so far reactions have been... super. I'm proud of the uplifting story we captured and hope audiences everywhere will enjoy watching it. It really seems to connect with comic book fans, Star Wars fans, general sci-fi fans, but most importantly -- anyone who loves a good story. We are still shopping the movie around and hopefully we will find a solid distributor to give it the home it deserves. Since we wrapped my health is looking up, and in no small part because of the dream I could pursue.
In the end, the hero saved himself.
-- David FilmoreThe HERO MAN trailer:
Visit David Filmore and his alter ego at their website, HeroManMovie.com.
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