Violet Ramis Stiel - Life with My Dad, Harold Ramis: Ghostbusters Daughter

I first met Harold Ramis at the Deauville Film Festival in 2005, when I was twenty-three. Before you start thinking Im fancy, just know that its kind of a bullshit film festival thats mostly like an overblown press event where they get Americans to come to the beach in France to show and promote their movies.

By then, I had been working as an actor and writer for a while, and had met a lot of famous people and entertainers I grew up loving, but Harold was the first person I met whod made the movies and TV that my parents also loved. I knew they were the funniest movies, even though I didnt get all the jokes, because we were all laughing together, because they were the first movies I remember people quoting and making themselves laugh to hysterics at the mere thought of the scenes they hadnt actually seen in ages.

Basically, the movies that made me want to make movies.

Also, as an unconventional-looking, deep-voiced comedian, with aspirations of writing, directing, producing, and acting, I couldnt always find a lot of people to look up topeople who let you know that theres actually a chance you can succeed. To me, Harold was that guy. He was the first person I knew who actually gave me hope. Im Canadian, so SCTV was a fixture in my life since I can remember, and so was Harold. I remember as a kid being like, Egon ALSO wrote Ghostbusters AND Meatballs AND Animal House AND directed Caddyshack AND Groundhog Day? It both blew my mind and made me think that maybe someone like me could find a way to make a living doing the same things.

So Im in France with Judd Apatow, and he has this thing where he shamelessly gloms on to people hes a fan of. I kind of have a Never meet your heroes thing. I still cringe at some of the interactions Ive had with some of my favorite filmmakers, and Im pretty sure George Lucas would avoid me if he saw me, to this day. But Judd has the exact opposite instinct. He seeks out his heroes and barnacles himself until forcibly removed.

So Judd knocks on the door of my hotel room and is like, Harold Ramis is here, I met him once or twice, lets find him.

We had heard he was at the other hotel, the one that was much nicer than ours. We went over to the restaurant in the lobby, and there he was, with a huge smile on his face, prayer beads hanging off his wrist, giving interviews to promote his new film, The Ice Harvest. We waited until his interview was over and basically sat ourselves down beside him as though we were the next scheduled journalists. He remembered Judd (thank God) and talked to us for like an hour, telling stories and being cool.

He invited us out to the fanciest restaurant Id ever been to in my life, and that night, he not only showed me what a tasting menu was, he showed me that I can meet my heroes and not have it be a total disaster. They can be nice and gracious and everything Id hope theyd be. It should probably be said that pretty much every other hero Ive met since then has totally sucked.

About a year later, Judd and I were filming Knocked Up and needed someone to play my dad. Harold was our first choice, and I was amazed when he agreed to do it. It was a dream. Working together validated all the kinship I had felt with him as a kid. I always wanted to be a young Harold Ramis and I literally got to be. (Well, not literally, but in like a familial-but-also-in-a-movie sense).

Filming our father-son scene was one of the great joys of my life. Harold exuded such love and joy both onscreen and off. His (largely improvised) wisdom was so nurturing and kind, I honestly think its one of the reasons the movie functions. You see hes my father and you think, This guy cant be that bad if thats who raised him. Maybe he can raise a baby.

After we wrapped for the day, Harold came up to me and told me that when he wasnt in the same city as his kids, he gave himself permission to smoke weed, and he was wondering if I had any on me that I could give him. I weirdly didnt, but told him if he wanted to stop by my shitty West Hollywood apartment, Id be more than happy to give him some. Shockingly, he said he would like that. He followed me home in his car, and I remember waiting nervously as he parked. I thought hed come and just grab the tiny bag of weed I had prepared for him and bolt, presumably to go smoke it with someone way more cool than me.

But when he got there, he just stood in my doorway and leaned against the wall, talking to me. For a while. Like, a half hour or forty-five minutes, just talking. In no hurry, just happy to stand and smoke and shoot the shit.

This might seem like a small thing, but to me it was amazing and wonderful and something I still think about all the time.

And everyone I know who knew Harold has a similar story.

One of my good friends worked for Harolds agent for years, and eventually left to get a better job (with me). When he found out, Harold sent him a deep-dish pizza from Chicago to congratulate him. I mean, I think of myself as a pretty nice guy, but Ive never sent anyone food to celebrate a new job.

But Harold would. And did.

The world is better for having had him, and Im honored to have existed at the same time as him. And Im glad Violet asked me to write this foreword. I hope its good. Thanks. Enjoy the rest of the book.