My Own Damn eternal appreciation to Michael and Maris Herz.
My Own Damn gratitude to Elizabeth Beier (my own damn editrix and green-lighting goddess), Jerome Rudes and Fifi Oscard (my own damn wonderful literary agents).
My Own Damn thanks to: Michael Connor (my own damn brilliant editor), Adam Jahnke, Trent Haaga, Gabe Friedman, Megan Powers, Sean McGrath, Doug Sakmann, Brian McNulty, Jamie Greco, Trey Parker, Perry Lerner, Alan Quasha, Jonathan Foster, James Gunn, Fiona Apple, Jean Loscalzo, Eric Raab, Andrew Rye, Frank Reynolds, Sonja Shultz, Julie Strain, Kevin Eastman, Tim Considine, Karen Tepper, John Karle, R. L. Kaufman, Sigrun Kaufman, Susan Kaufman, Charles Kaufman, Lilly Hayes Kaufman, Lisbeth Kaufman, Charlotte Kaufman, and Jay North, as the Beaver.
Special thanks to: James L. Brooks (for calling attention to my work in The New York Times ).
No thanks to: Viacom, New Corp, Vivendi, AOL Time Warner, Sony and other devil-worshipping international media conglomerates.
by Trey Parker
Lloyd Kaufman had a profound impact on my life. Twice.
The first time was when I was thirteen and I rented a movie called The Toxic Avenger at my video store. Ill never forget the way that film inspired me. It made me realize that if a crappy film like that could get good reviews and make it to video stores, I could become a filmmaker, too. I knew I could make movies that looked that good even if I was just thirteen. Hell, I knew just about anybody could. I quickly rented more Troma films and started to see their tactic. Quantity over quality. They obviously didnt care what it looked like, they just did it, and kept on doing it just like Merchant and Ivory. Encouraged, I spent every weekend shooting a new, crappy video movie with my reluctant friends with a huge camera with thick cables running to an enormous VCR. When I would direct my thirteen-year-old buddies to just spit out catsup to look like blood, they would complain.
Dude, they would say, thatll look stupid.
No, I would reply, thats what they do in the Troma movies, and they make it to video stores. Dont worry about what the blood looks like, just make the damn movie.
I continued to make tons of short, crappy movies throughout my teenage years, with the important lesson of quantity over quality that I had learned from Troma, and I kept making cheap crappy movies right through film school at the University of Colorado, where I was lucky to find people like Jason McHugh and Matt Stone, who shared my love for cheap, stupid, brilliant crap. Whereas most film students would save up their money and make one big, expensive, great looking film, we would shoot tons of little shitty ones; about three a semester. We didnt care about how they looked, only that they got made. Quantity over quality.
Having such a bulk of material eventually led to us being able to get money to make one big crappy film during our senior year. Thanks to Troma, we were empowered to think Why not make a feature length movie in college with a bunch of rundown equipment? Itll look as good as The Toxic Avenger !
We made the film, an hour and a half piece called Cannibal! The Musical , and it was, indeed, as crappy as The Toxic Avenger . Maybe crappier.
I believe now that having Cannibal and all our other short films from college is the main reason we found success in Hollywood. We arrived in that town not with one film to show, but dozens. Most important, by making a lot of films in our younger years, (one of those short crappy school movies was the first South Park ) it helped us to arrive in L.A. with our own unique voice that we had already defined. The studios would eventually corrupt our unique voice, of course, but not until much later in our careers.
You see, Lloyd Kaufman knew years ago what most people are just now figuring outyou dont need a big Hollywood studio to make a movie. With the technical advances in editing systems and digital cameras thats becoming more true every day, its all about output: output, learn by doing. To hell with whether you should shoot at 5.6 or 5.6-8 split. Fuck all that. Just start making crap. Quantity over quality. The first important lesson I learned from Lloyd Kaufman.
The second lesson came some ten years after the first, when I was twenty-three, and actually had the opportunity to meet Lloyd Kaufman face to face.
It was 1995. At that time, I was living in Los Angeles sleeping on peoples floors and running around with Jason and Matt trying to sell Cannibal! The Musical .
After its completion, we were rejected at every film festival (except the Denver film festival where my aunt Marilyn worked). Its relative success at small screenings started to make us think more and more that we could actually sell Cannibal to a distributor in L.A. We drove out there, and for months met with lots of people who kissed our asses, told us Cannibal wasnt right for them, but theyd love first rights to our next movie.
Then Troma called. They had seen the film and were interested in the distribution rights. I was excited, thinking that things had come full circle. We were told that Lloyd Kaufman himself was going to visit us in L.A. and we would do lunch. It had been almost three years since we had made the film, and it looked like finally we were going to make some money off of it.
Lloyd arrived at our rundown apartment wearing a chic blue suit and a very busy yellow tie. If someone asked me to create a cartoon character of a little clich Jewish, Mel Brookstype producer from New York, I would have drawn Lloyd, and I would have done the voice just like he does.
Hi, hi, Lloyd Kaufman from Troma. I love your movie, great stuff. You guys are brilliant. So you guys ready to eat lunch?
Sure, we said, knowing that doing lunch in L.A. meant a meeting was fairly serious.
Where should we go?
I saw a Del Taco across the street, you guys like Del Taco?
I remember studying Lloyds face then, seeing if he, like so many other producers was just trying to put on an Im down to Earth act.
But then I saw it in his eyes: This man really does like Del Taco. He wanted it. Bad. We walked over to Del Taco, anticipating what kind of great offer Troma was going to make us on our movie.
I can replay the whole meeting in my mind as if it happened hours ago. We all placed our food orders at the counter. We quickly realized that Lloyd had no intention of paying for our tacos. In fact, when Jason offered to pay for Lloyds beef taco with loads of hot sauce, Lloyds face lit up like a child at Christmas, and he promptly added some guacamole to his order.
We got our food and sat down. The negotiations were about to begin.
Lloyd began the conversation by unwrapping his taco and saying that Cannibal was one of the best films hed seen in recent months and he wanted to distribute it into video stores. Trying to contain our excitement, we settled into the points of the agreement.
Okay, I believe Jason said, so how would the deal work?
Well, if we er I mean you can put a bit more violence up front in the movie and fix some of the sound, well make a nice video package with the Troma logo in the corner, Lloyd replied, and hopefully, lots of people will rent it! Then maybe well make back all the money we spent on the packaging some day!
We stopped eating tacos.
So how much money do we get up front?
Oh. Nothing. Lloyd said casually.
We get nothing?