Heartbreaking but good times!
Think of it as a disaster movie.
I have.
For many years now.
To be invited to Hollywood to write a movie about surfing and
then have them actually want to make it and then to talk them into
hiring all your friends to do it with you and then to have to stand
by and watch the Hollywood machine turn the story into a compost
heap was absolutely heart breaking.
But at least my friends and I had a ball making it.
People like Matty Liu (who surfed that giant day at Jaws but did
not make the final cut), Shane Dorian (who I believe was at a
contest in Brazil when I called him and asked him to star. He was
fifth in the world I think but jumped…uhm…on board just to get out
of two-foot slop there), Shaun Tomson (who when I called him asked
“Will they clear the line-ups?”), Brian Keaulana (who no surf movie
in their right mind would not call), Darrick Doerner (who provided
the name for the movie after describing a terrifying wipeout at
Waimea), Dave Kalama (who was convinced we were all gonna die doing
our own stunts without any jet-ski experience and came damned close
to being right), Pete Cabrinha (genius, and the best actor in the
bunch, who had just invented kite surfing, which did not make the
final cut either), Rush Randle (who was the strongest man in the
world who when he hugged me in thanks bruised two of my ribs), and
yes, even the band Poison’s front man Bret Michaels, (but more,
much more, on that later).
So for those self isolated, and those brave enough to sit
through In God’s Hands again
(If you watch it with German subtitles it actually has a plot),
here is a series of behind-the-scene capers to keep you occupied
during the love scenes.
EXT. PADANG PADANG – NIGHT
I had never heard anyone laugh at ten million dollars
before.
But that was our budget.
I learned very quickly that movie producers are like government
officials. They make alot of promises but keep all the money.
The joke goes: Why do producers hate making movies for a million
bucks?
Answer: How the hell are they gonna steal half of it?
Ha ha..yeah I know…not funny. I fucking lived it.
So yeah, as much as ten million dollars sounds, we were strapped
the whole time and quite often making shit happen was up to me.
Anyway, we were in Bali and I wrote this huge party scene that
was to take place at Padang Padang. I needed at least fifty people
but the producers came to me and said that they couldn’t pay for
any extras.
So the way I remember it, Shane Dorian, Matty Liu and I walked
down Jalan Legian handing out my home-made flyers for a huge
blow-out full moon party the next night at Padang Padang (even
though the full moon was ten days away)
“All the free beer you could swill!” said the flyer.
I also spread the rumor that it was going to be a shroomfest.
Remember, this was 1996 and mushroom shakes were still legal in
Bali.
The thing was, we didn’t have any shrooms and between the three
of us, we could afford about three beers, which we drank while we
handed out the flyers. So I guess you could say we left it In God’s
Hands.
But wait.
We needed a band, we’d at least promised that.
That’s when we heard a noise that sounded alot like an
electronic cat fight in a slaughterhouse.
It was coming from one of the more notorious…uhm…welcome bars on
the Legian strip.
A few of the ladies and, well, a few of the…uhm… dressed up
boys, were hanging out front looking for early customers.
Matty realized we had found exactly what we needed.
Dragging us into the place Matty introduced us to the source of
the catfight. It was a Russian industrial metal band called KAOS
who had rented the place for band practice for a jug of black
market Vodka. All KAOS demanded from us for the gig was a tip jar,
a stage and ice cubes for their last jug of vodka (Which was honest
to God black by the way. Christ, I’ve never figured that out).
I said sure, easy.
Have you ever accidentally thrown a baseball through a
window?
We should have known when we pulled up and the scooters were
backed up to the White Monkey Surf
Shop.
We were chewing our nails worrying about how we were gonna throw
a party with no favors when over a thousand people had shown up
with their own eski’s and stash.
If you watch the big party scene, which we shot live, in the
rain, and all night, you can see most of the famous cast all gone
nuts. And we were. Me, Matty and Shane nuts with relief that we
pulled it off, most others gone nuts on shrooms.
(Including a female cameramen, which explains the core of the
movie in many ways, but more on that later…).
So under the deluge the rain poured down, the river broke
through, generators blew out, the stage collapsed, someone’s hair
was set on fire by the sparklers, the tide came in, the body
painting contest got way out of hand and there was even a spaced
out impromptu marriage between the female camera operator mentioned
above and the mohawked drummer of KAOS.
Which was officiated by Bret Michaels in his
famous male mascara (lead singer of the band Poison, if you have
forgotten that point and for you romantics rumor has it the happy
couple are still together).
By dawn the beach looked like the morning after the D-Day
invasion combined with a human version of a turtle breeding
season.
Dozing new couples lying in humps in each others arms and the
walking dead making their way up through the cave with hangovers
that I swear to God you could actually hear.
Meanwhile, Shane, Matty, Shaun Tomson, Bret Michaels and I were
up on the shaded remnants of the listing bamboo stage.
(The band had fled fearing immigration reprisals, but they made
sure we knew where to find them if we did this sort of thing
again).
Being very South African, Shaun had somehow found some morning
tea that wasn’t spiked and we all sat considering the impressive
wreckage.
Shaun broke the silence.
“So Shane…If you didn’t body shave you’d be quite a hairy
bastard, yeah?”
Even the female survivor on Bret Michaels lap busted up. (She
was the Italian fire dancer and hula hoop instructor who had
thoughtfully provided all the sparklers).
And that was when Bret grabbed his guitar and serenaded in the
new day of what was one of the many mad moments in the remarkable
surfing production that was In God’s Hands.
Bret, in very amused frame of mind, chose to sing
the acoustic version of his number one hit from
1988.
And it could not have been more fitting.
“Every rose has it’s thorn
Just like every night has it’s dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has it’s thorn
. Yeah it does…”