Ghost Rider: My Favorite Film
The Live Show Introduction, Marc V. Calderaro
For years in Austin I’ve performed a one-man show called “Ghost Rider: My Favorite Film.” The show provides a non-ironic argument for why Nic Cage’s 2007 Ghost Rider is worth critical study in the form of a two-hour, booze-filled live commentary packed with critical theory, backstage politics, and a hell of a lot of zaniness.
I give an introduction, then provide commentary throughout the film to buttress my arguments. It’s a story of the struggle between studio filmmaking and one man’s fanatical will—and how the resulting art can be so much more than either the studio or the man ever intended. In addition to off-the-wall film criticism and theory, I’ve paired the show with a drinking game that helps illustrate my points ever so eloquently. I’m usually quite drunk by the show’s end.
After performing in small clubs for a few years, I worked up to selling out the famed Alamo Drafthouse Theater in Austin—which was a huge success for me.
On Saturday, November 12th, 2016 at 3pm I’ll be performing the show for the first time in my new home of Los Angeles at the Nerdist Showroom at Meltdown Comics in Hollywood.
I’m intermittently excited and very, very nervous. My show was always tailored to the exploitation-loving, booze-hungry Austin crowd, and transitioning the show to a new audience—an industry-aware audience—is trickier than you might imagine.
I’ve never written my introduction down before. But because of my extreme anxiety, I did this time. It’s not really edited, because it’ll be from memory anyway. But it’s a good guide. I’m sharing it here because I thought, why go through all that effort and have nothing to show for it?
Please enjoy the read, but know it is a tenth of the live show. If you are intrigued by this weirdness, if I ever come to your town, or if you live in LA and are free on Saturday, I can only promise that the show is more than worth the price of admission.
And for some reason, based on recent events, I think some of us might need a few drinks.
Thank you.
Welcome, everyone! My name is Marc Calderaro, and this is “Ghost Rider: My Favorite Film.” A journey through the perils, pitfalls, and hells of studio filmmaking, and I will be your Virgil. [drink]
First, a big thanks to everyone who helped make this show a reality. Caitlin Durante at NerdMelt Showroom, Zac, the tech head, Gaston for filming, Colleen for getting me set up, and my wonderful wife Catherine, who’s sat through countless iterations of everything, and watched this film more times than anyone—other than me—could possible stomach. Thank you, everyone. [drink]
Ghost Rider Character Background
Ok, on to business. A little background on the character, for those who don’t know who the hell Ghost Rider even is. Ghost Rider is a comic book character from way back—the 70s. The basic story is that Johnny Blaze a stunt motorcyclist, sells his soul to the devil and is cursed to turn into the “Ghost Rider.” He’s just a skeleton with a flaming skull for a head, who wears a leather jacket and rides a huge tricked out motorcycle called a “Hellcycle.” That’s about it. [drink]
The comic ran for many years and was quite popular. In the 90s it was revitalized, headlining Marvel’s “Horror” line of comics.
The reason the character became iconic was not because of any particular backstory—like Spiderman and the death of his uncle—or because of any particular storyline. Even many ardent fans can’t tell your their favorite Ghost Rider narrative.
The reason the character caught on was because of the amazing iconography. The visual of a flaming skull, a leather jacket, a “Hellcycle” made the comic incredibly popular with countercultures. Bikers, punks, and various anti-establishment cultures latched on to the image of a pissed-off carney who bucked authority and sided with the devil.
In some stories the Ghost Rider’s good; in some, he’s kinda evil; but either way, his bad-assness was never questioned. And his hard-drinking, hard-livin’ ways ways inspired a generation of people to get flaming skull tattoos, belt buckles, the whole gamut. When the Ghost Rider came around, everyone knew shit was going down.
In many ways, Ghost Rider was the first time comics were “cool” and “counterculture.” The Ghost Rider was just awesome, even though comics were dorky.
So that’s the basic idea. Congrats, you’re caught up on that. [drink]
Ghost Rider Movie Origin
So has anyone here seen the film Ghost Rider before? Show of hands?
[pick someone out with hand raised at random] And what did you think?
[Usual answer: *shrug*]
Yes, [*shrug*]. That’s basically how most people feel about it. And that’s OK, because that was the intent of the film. Columbia, Sony, and Marvel made the film together, but it was a different era of Marvel. This was before the shared universe, before comic book movies were cool, and before any Marvel-branded property would make any dent at all in the zeitgeist of American culture. It was a different time.
Marvel was still looking to establish their foothold in the film industry. So they aimed to make nondescript blockbusters to draw people in. The goal was to expose people to the “coolness” of comics. In that way, it wasn’t surprising they picked Ghost Rider to base a film on. It’s super cool, amazing iconography, and without a defining narrative that everyone remembers, there’s less restraint on how to tell the story. Just give people the dude whose head goes on fire and rides a sick-ass motorcycle, and vaguely involve the devil somehow, and the fanboys will be happy, and everyone else will get on board with the next Marvel project. It was designed to be enjoyable and forgettable.
But something happened on the road to mediocrity. [drink] The confluence of two specific mistakes turned this film into something no one intended. If either were made on its own, it wouldn’t be the film it is today. But both these mistakes were made, and committed to fully. And it’s those two mistakes that made me write this show, and put it in front of y’all. [drink]
Mistake #1: Marvel Insisted Making Ghost Rider a “Tentpole” Film
A super quick catch-up of some film industry stuff:
Very broadly there are two types of studio films: Tentpoles and Genres. “Genres” are films made for and marketed to a specific audience. Horror films are a good example. There’s no reason for a studio to tailor a horror film to say, 65-year-old women. It isn’t worth it. Just as you don’t tailor an adult drama to a 13-year-old boy. [drink]
Conversely, Tentpole films are for everybody—women, children, construction workers, grandmas, Wall Street executives, whatever. When a studio makes a big tentpole film, they want everyone to come see it. The biggest hallmark of a tentpole film, is that coveted PG-13 rating—everyone can buy a ticket to see that film.
Look, I understand the role of tentpoles, and there are tons of tentpole films I love. But something about their contrived feel always gets me—how forced the characters are, how stuffed the narrative. They just feel inorganic. And that’s not bad per se, it’s just a hallmark of art engineered for everyone.
Now for some crazy-ass reason, Marvel decided to make Ghost Rider—the dude who’s literally a flaming skull wearing a leather jacket and riding a “HELL CYCLE”—a tentpole film. Marvel insisted, despite how clearly genre it is to its core. [drink]
So the studio hired the most tentpole-y of tentpole guys around to write and direct the film— a guy named Mark Steven Johnson — and boy did he deliver a tentpole. The original script was contrived, base, and bland, but in all of the right ways.
Now, a little quiz on MSJ: Most people know he also directed Daredevil, but does anyone know the first film he directed? Anyone? Anyone?
Answer: Simon Birch. Anyone? Anyone? [drink]
Simon Birch was basically a post-Forrest Gump cash-grab, but instead of Tom Hanks, it was about a kid with dwarfism. It was the same “Is-he-disabled?-Isn’t-he?-Who-cares-’cause-he’ll-warm-your-heart” kind of story and, Spoiler Alert: It isn’t very good.
This guy, Simon Birch basically, was the guy they got to make the movie about the dude whose head goes on fire and rides a hellcycle. [drink]
He filled the script full of stock characters:
- The bad guys, eventually played by Peter Fonda and Wes Bentley (of American Beauty fame) deliver all the exposition, growl and say “Mmmmm” a lot for no reason;
- Donal Logue plays the buddy sidekick, who speaks entirely in Southern colloquialisms;
- And Eva Mendes plays the love interest, Roxanne Simpson. In the comic, the character is a buxom blonde, and Mendes said something funny to MSJ, or Simon Birch, before filming. She said, “Look I don’t have blond hair, but if I gain a little weight the fun stuff grows.”
So that tells you everything about that, really. [drink]
Then Simon Birch made a stock Johnny Blaze. He drank a lot of alcohol, watched horror movies, listened to metal—you know, the generic “bad dude.”
There were obvious buttons lines to close out every scene and sound cues to keep you engaged in the dialogue —thunder, guitar wales, whatever. (As a note, the drunker I get during the show, the more guitar wales I imitate. It’s a good indicator.) [drink] And flashbacks, Oh God, tons of flashbacks.
The stage was set; the film was perfectly forgettable. It’s like the new Star Wars—made to be “delightful” above all else, including any lasting impact. In fact, Johnson had made the final film so forgettable, that almost all the parts used for the trailers and TV spots later were improvisations by others. None of the memorable things were Simon Birch’s creation, and by design. The film was all ready to make its money, tick the Marvel stock up, and be forgotten.
But that’s when they made the second mistake. [drink] Can anyone tell me what it was?
Mistake #2: Nic Cage
That’s right. My moon, my man, my love—Nic Cage. Love him or hate him, he’s always all-in on what he’s making. He’s always acting with a purpose and a drive, and an idea. I mean, this guy admitted that in Vampire’s Kiss his aim was to “create a Western Kabuki tradition.” Create an acting tradition in a low-budget horror comedy. Really.
And when he’s paired with a director that shares that maniacal vision, he’s on fire. Bad Lieutenant, Wild at Heart, even National Treasure were all films where Cage and the director were on the same page. His weird notes and tones flowed like true music. There’s a reason he’s won an Oscar.
Oh, another thing you need to know about Cage: he loves comic books, and specifically, he loves Ghost Rider. Not only did Cage take his last name from a comic book character—Luke Cage for those interested—but he, wait for it, has a Ghost Rider tattoo. Yes, it’s real, and yes, they had to cover it up in the movie. [drink]
The studio thought they’d struck gold with the A-List celebrity, but they didn’t realize that Cage wasn’t going to make their tentpole movie. He knew damn well that Ghost Rider was a genre character, and despite what anyone else making the film wanted, he was getting his genre film.
And who was going to tell him no? Simon Birch? [drink]
Cage looked at the Ghost Rider that had been written and said, this won’t work. If it’s going to be PG-13, he said, we gotta do something different—re-work it from the ground up.
Cage’s idea was this: if he’s a guy who sold his soul to the devil, maybe instead of indulging in all these vices, he’d hide from them, in an effort to not bait the devil.
So, Cage said, instead of watching horror movies, he’d watch monkey movies; instead of listening to metal, he’d listen to The Carpenters; and instead of drinking alcohol, he’d drink … jellybeans out of a martini glass. Yup. That happens. [drink] Cage also thought that the character would also watch a lot of TV, so he added in three references to the fact that his character watches TV.
It’s weird—real weird.
But no one could tell him no. The studio indulged every creative whim he had. In fact, to show their commitment, Cage got the director write a letter to The Carpenters to get the rights to the music. The group had originally turned it down because they know how often people use their music ironically. But Cage felt so strongly, he had Simon Birch draft a letter explaining why The Carpenters’ music was essential to his character. This is how much the studio, and Simon Birch, wanted to make Cage happy.
Crazily, in all this madness, Cage manufactured an authentic-feeling character. Through all this wackiness, and all the studio contrivances, Cage blossomed to be 100% organic. It’s like a giant tree growing in the middle of a parking lot. [drink] It’s majestic.
It’s those two mistakes—making Ghost Rider a tentpole film, then casting Nic Cage—that created such an indelible film. We get to watch the fight on screen between two entities who have about equal say—Nic Cage, who’s making a genre, and everyone else making a tentpole. There are scenes where everyone else’s dialogue is so written and Cage’s are so “improvised,” you’d think they were in two different movies.
That’s what makes this so special. Without even trying, we get a rare peek behind the curtain of studio filmmaking, as the lead actor rips it apart from the inside.
Drinking Game Rules
However, sometimes those moments can be hard to spot. And that’s why I tailored a drinking game to go along with some main points. It’s a pacer to the presentation, really.
There are three rules. The first two highlight the tentpole aspects of the film, and the third highlights “the Cage.”
(1) Drinking Whenever You See a Skull (not Ghost Rider’s; you’ll die.)
You’d think in a movie with a main character whose head turns into a skull, death and the macabre would be obvious enough. But because this is a tentpole, and no one trusted the audience to care at all about anything, there are skulls everywhere. Skulls in the formation of clouds, skulls in reflections, a cane with the head of a crystal skull—just a whole mess of skulls. Cause, remember tentpole audience—It’s about deeeeeath.
So whenever you see one, say “Skull” and drink.
(2) Drink Whenever a Character Points
I’m sure you haven’t thought about it before, but when was the last time you pointed at someone or something in a conversation for emphasis? Oh, was it never? Yeah, probably. Humans don’t really do that when they talk. But in a tentpole film, where everything needs to be reinforced, you’re going to see characters pointing all over the place—pointing at trees, pointing at people and saying “You!”, there’s even a death point in the film.
Every time you see a character point, say “Point!” and take a drink.
(3) Drink When You See “The Cage”
Now this one is a bit more abstract, and I’ll help you out with these. But the main idea is this: when you see Cage do something that no other A-List actor in their right mind would do, take a drink. When you see him swirl jellybeans, scream like an eight-year-old after he gets a date, light his own goddamn feet on fire, or gesticulate five times before delivering a line, DRINK!
So that’s the deal—Skulls, Points, and Cage. Got it?
Great. How we feeling? We feeling ready? We feeling pumped? You’d better be. Because it’s coming. The Ghost Rider is coming.
Welcome to “Ghost Rider: My Favorite Film”!
