Welcome back to another edition of How Not To Make A Movie 101, my beautiful students. For today's lesson, we're going to take a hard look at one of the most infamous failures of cinema —the ultimate act of hubris and the most monumental demonstration of Hollywood's eternal implosion: The Island of Dr. Moreau from 1996. This is a story of heartbreaking tragedy, pretentiousness, arrogance, and an unhealthy lack of humility. It is a cautionary tale of bad compromise, overinflated egos, and a lack of commitment to an artistic vision. Though it may not be the earliest story of a movie's production gone horribly wrong, it remains the most vital story for the history books. Should you dare attempt to sit through this monstrosity, let it be to better yourself as an artist and a person, through the example of what not to do.
First, allow me to provide some context.
The Island of Dr. Moreau began life as a novel, published in 1896 by the renowned science fiction author, H.G. Wells. It follows the story of a shipwreck survivor named Edward Prendick, who floats onto a mysterious Island. Once there, he discovers a deranged scientist, Dr. Moreau, who has been experimenting with creating human-animal hybrids. Shocked yet intrigued by what he finds, Edward stays on the island for some time before making his escape back to civilization, forever changed by his experiences and trauma.
The book had been adapted to the silver screen a few times before, most notably in 1932 (retitled Island of Lost Souls) starring Charles Laughton and Bela Lugosi, and again in 1977 starring Burt Lancaster and Michael York. Both films were relatively close to the original narrative, but neither could really capture the essence of the story. And while it contained many of the hallmarks one might expect from an H.G. Wells novel, it was arguably his most relevant story (especially for the time) that required a greater level of nuance than Hollywood could ever be willing to provide, let alone seek out.
Then, in the 1990s, a young, up-and-coming filmmaker from South Africa named Richard Stanley, known then for a few strange independent films such as Dust Devil and Hardware, and a long-time fan of H.G. Wells (especially The Island of Dr. Moreau), presented New Line Cinema with a vision. One that could capture the story's strange and unusual nuance and finally deliver a proper adaptation of the classic novel to the silver screen. With Richard Stanley's level of enthusiasm and a movie studio known for finding success in taking risks with relatively unknown talent, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, I'll tell you!
Quick disclaimer. Many of the points I discuss here were well documented in a video essay by the YouTuber Cynical Reviews. There are many more aspects to this horrible production I won't get into here, but they are fascinating nonetheless, and are covered in the video. You may find a link to his video at the end of this blog entry.
Class is now in session; let's begin.
Lesson #1
Commit to the vision
Before receiving New Line Cinema's green light, Richard Stanley had been developing his vision for the film for over 4 years. It was a major passion project of his, as he was not only a massive fan of the original book but also drew inspiration from it to create a better adaptation than what he had seen years before. According to Stanley, the only time he demanded his money back for a movie ticket was when he saw the 1977 version of The Island of Dr. Moreau and was upset that there wasn't a cat girl in the film, despite many advertisements claiming there was. Rest assured, that wasn't the only thing Richard Stanley wanted to include in his vision.
Stanley had envisioned a darker, stranger, and more satirical film than the original story. He also wanted to take advantage of the concept of human animal hybrids in as many ways as possible, including a very graphic and unsettling depiction of a hybrid's birth. Whatever else can be said about Richard Stanley as a person (sadly, most of it isn't very good), there is no denying that he had a clear, unusually creative, and passionate vision for a film that might have been fascinating to witness one way or the other.
Sadly, not enough people involved in the production seemed to understand or care for his vision.
According to a video essay on the film by YouTuber Cynical Reviews, New Line Cinema wasn't interested in giving Richard Stanley a chance at directing, but they really wanted his script. So, they brought him on board while secretly offering the project to a "more household name"—Roman Polanski —with the intention of kicking Stanley to the curb. Stanley, justifiably angered by this, pleaded his case to Marlon Brando (more on him later), who was attached to play the lead role in the film, and successfully convinced him to force New Line Cinema's hand by only agreeing to do the film if Stanley directed.
So far, so good. But then, it happened again.
Circumstances led the studio to hire Val Kilmer for one of the roles, banking on his name to secure audience draw and better box-office returns. Unfortunately, this was the time in Kilmer's career when fame was getting to his head. Shortly after signing the contract and glancing at the kind of film he was participating in, he suddenly became uninterested and wanted out. However, because the studio "needed" him to better sell the film, they forced him to stay on. This prompted Val Kilmer to transform into the biggest jackass throughout the entire production.
Kilmer would make outrageous demands, refuse to learn his lines, and treat everyone else in the cast and crew (especially Richard Stanley) like a schoolyard bully on a rampage. Some of his immature antics included sitting down on the ground, refusing to move, and burning a camera operator's head with a lit cigarette while the camera was rolling. In any other situation, this would have cost anyone else their job, but because New Line Cinema still clearly had no faith in Richard Stanley's vision, they didn't care.
This, combined with pressure from the studio to deliver a product, on top of a few other unfortunate events too numerous to list, caused Richard Stanley to have a stress-induced nervous breakdown, prompting the studio to finally step in and do the only thing they thought was sensible: they fired Richard Stanley and replaced him with another director, John Frankenheimer, who had taken over for fired directors before, and only agreed to complete this project under the condition of a three-picture deal with the studio, which they agreed to.
While there were many underlying reasons and additional factors behind everyone's behavior in this story, the main driving force was that no one else — especially those with the most influence — believed in or agreed with Richard Stanley's vision. While I would not go so far as to declare Richard Stanley the most underrated or misunderstood artist of the century (mostly because he isn't, but also because he's not deserving of such a title), there was no denying that there was something about his vision that might have been worth the risk. Maybe it would have succeeded in spades, maybe it would have flopped as horribly as the actual film already had, or maybe it would have become a cult classic; we will never know.
The point is, if you don't agree with or believe in a vision, don't pretend to just nab a script. Part of the arts is exploring and understanding how others see things, and allowing yourself to be open to such opportunities when presented to you. Refusing to understand an artistic vision that differs from your preferences is just as arrogant as refusing to understand another culture you find yourself living within. Take the opportunity to grow and learn; take a chance.
Lesson #2
Reevaluate everything often
For many of the people involved in this production, the main driving force was the opportunity to work with the legendary actor, Marlon Brando (I told you we'd get back to him). By this time, Brando had successfully become a household name in the field of acting and a massive box-office draw. Studios wanted him, filmmakers and actors wanted to work with him, and audiences wanted to see him. And with incredible successes under his belt, such as the essential classic On the Waterfront, not to mention his Oscar-winning performance in The Godfather, and even his unusually unsettling performance in Apocalypse Now, it's not all that challenging to see the allure of having the opportunity to work with such a prestigious performer.
Sadly, such an idea would prove to be significantly more cumbersome than it was worth.
By this stage in his life, Marlon Brando seemed to give up on acting and movies entirely, not helped by his already established reputation for being difficult to work with. Further exacerbated by the tragic death of his daughter, Cheyenne, prompting Marlon to exile himself out of grief. No person, parent or otherwise, should ever have to experience such heartbreak.
Nevertheless, the prestige that came from getting to say "I did a movie with Marlon Brando" was too tempting an opportunity to pass over, a mentality shared by almost everyone in the cast and crew, including the latecomer to the cast, David Thewlis, who replaced another actor who left the production after pleading with the executives. This would prove to be a less-than-favorable event for everyone involved.
When Marlon Brando finally arrived on set for his scenes (the film had already been in production for a few months by now), everything went to hell! Well, more so than it already had. Brando refused to learn his lines, preferring to use an earpiece for his assistant to feed him his lines during filming. Apparently, the earpiece would occasionally pick up police banter, prompting Brando to proclaim "There's a robbery at Wulworths" in the middle of a scene. Brando also made unusual requests of his wardrobe and character that were not only antithetical to the script but also made no sense whatsoever, including wearing an ice bucket on his head and suggesting a surprise twist in which his character is revealed to actually be a Dolphin. That last one might have actually made the movie more interesting in retrospect.
This all just goes to show that no matter how prestigious or recognizable a name may be, and no matter how exciting it may sound to work with one of your heroes, history has shown that it is always more important to take a step back and reevaluate your stances on many things you previously held dear. Marlon Brando may remain one of the most influential and memorable performers in cinema history, but he was still human with flaws and scars. These aspects of his character were ignored by everyone involved in the production at their own peril.
Lesson #3
Be mindful of your heroes
I have never been a fan of the phrase "Never meet your heroes" for a variety of reasons, the most prominent being that it is too exclusive and discourages the opportunity of meeting genuinely good people you admire. While there is no denying that people we may come to regard as our heroes may turn out to have less than heroic aspects to them, that doesn't mean it applies to all of the ones you appreciate greatly. What it does mean is that, while it is healthy to have heroes in your life, both fictional and real, we must make the effort to remember that they are still human, or at least the result of human creation.
As we become more understanding (and occasionally disillusioned) about how things function and how people handle the many obstacles of our existence, we must strive to do and become better than those who have disappointed us. No one on the face of this Earth, or within the realms of our imagination, is infallible; our very nature, both in and out, is built upon a flawed nature that continues to grow and improve, provided we maintain the fortitude and awareness to recognize and accept the opportunity when it presents itself.
I am suddenly reminded of one of my favorite moments in the Marvel film, Avengers: Age of Ultron, in which one of the heroes has a brief yet profound final confrontation with the villain:
"Humans are odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings; I think you missed that."
-Vision
Conclusion
Not all people are easily forgiven for their mistakes, and not all mistakes are equal, but they should not deter us from the lessons to be found in recognizing the humanity in all forms of creativity. It is this very notion that many people involved in this movie completely forgot or ignored, and it is arguably the most significant lesson to learn from the story of this film's troubled production. One day, we may see someone with a clear mind, a noble heart, and a worthwhile vision for bringing this classic H.G. Wells story to life on the silver screen. But, until then, we will always have this strange piece of desperate cinema to look back at, learn a few lessons from, and get a few good laughs out of.
Don't be afraid to meet your heroes; be mindful of who they are in their entirety.
Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm; thank you all for reading.
