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The March, 2002 Indie Slate® Magazine Feature
"An Earwig Into the Darkest Subconscious: The Making of HEADCHEESE"— by Justin Meeks-
Earth
One of the first independent films to put Austin, Texas, on the cinematic map was the 1974 seminal horror movie The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Leatherface has since invoked horrific nightmares in three generations of filmgoers. Duane Graves (HEADCHEESE co-producer) and I dismissed ideas of attending exquisite "film" schools to attend Texas A&M at Corpus Christi, mainly to enroll in the original "Chainsaw" scribe Kim Henkel's screenwriting courses. To us, studying filmmaking under Henkel was a golden opportunity.
Having finished a yearlong tour of festivals with his DV documentary Up Syndrome, Duane Graves was interested in producing a short horror film on 16mm with a vintage Bolex H-16 recently purchased on E-b
ay. I was polishing up a few long-verse poems in my "macabre" chapbook and faxed them over to him. He was particularly interested in "The Voyage Home," a poetic short story loosely based on the New Testament chapter, Luke 8:29. The story illustrates the inner strife of a deranged man, Legion, while on a bizarre pilgrimage to cleanse his soul. Within two days, we decided to mold this into a short film and Duane had storyboarded several of the key sequences.
The biggest pre-production task was finding the remote locations necessary to convey the isolation of the main character. Tim Harden, a mutual friend and fan of "Chainsaw," had compiled a detailed list of all the original film's locations (complete with maps) on his website at www.texaschainsawmassacre.net. Duane and I decided to pay a visit to Quick Hill; the land near Round Rock, Texas, where Leatherface's house rested before it was moved to Kingsland, Texas. Although our short had absolutely no chainsaws or cannibals, we realized the site was perfect, not only for our short, but also for paying homage to the classic horror flick.
Purgatory
On a hot and sultry day in May 2001, our crew hiked up Quick Hill, disregarding the No Trespassing
sign and the two-pound lock on the gate. Armed with cameras, props, costumes and the Good Book, our saga began. For those not familiar with the Quick Hill site, it is not one that is easily accessible. Every day we shot here was an ordeal. We parked in a remote parking lot a mile away and hauled 50 lbs of equipment to the top of the hill, encumbered with brush, barbwire, wild cattle, rattlesnakes and mosquitoes. Filming in these locations required intense concentration, as we were dealing with record-breaking temperatures of 100+ degrees. Changing film under blankets and the shirts off our backs became a reality. Discouraging roaming bulls and occasional wayward onlookers was also prevalent, not to mention keeping an eye out for the landowners.
The site has the remains of the original barn, an old junked car, dead trees and the foundation of the house. The cinematic vibe was strong in the area, and our creative juices flowed like wine down a drunkard's gullet. We filmed diligently over the next several months, collecting various souvenirs between takes, including the front step. Guesswork on the F-stops was routine, until Duane broke down and purchased a light meter. Then, and only then, did I guess the stops to a T. Often times we would forget little extras like drinking water, and our parched throats begged for a cool beverage. The closest store, a tiny Mobile station, became our c
ast "trailer." The clerks thought we were batty, especially when I would belly up to the counter demanding a six-pack of beer, chocolate syrup, rope and a roll of duct tape.
I must have lost two pounds and gained countless abrasions each take due to the intense exertion the script required. Our second location was the haunting graveyard in Leander, Texas, featured at the opening of "Chainsaw." Upon entering the graveyard, the security circled us like buzzards on a decaying armadillo. We had to complete the scene extremely fast, especially since we had a bag full of bones, chains and God only knows what else. The subject of Up Syndrome, Rene Moreno, accompanied us to the land of the dead to act in this short scene. Within several hours, after fighting the rotation of the sun and the curious eyes of visitors, we called it a wrap.
Our next location was the old country ga
s station near Bastrop, Texas, now called "Ryan's Hills Prairie Grocery." After a co-star flaked on us for two consecutive weeks, we called up another cohort, Quentin Guerrero, of San Antonio. Within two hours he was at my house, shaved his head, drank two cases of beer and was ready for action in the wee hours of the morning. As we approached Ryan's, we noticed that the store was littered with motorcycles of all shape, form and style. A motorcycle rall
y was in the midst, and they swarmed the place like flies on a rib roast.
We realized that another monkey wrench had been thrown in the filmmaking engine, but we made the best of it. We shot most of the roadside material, including a rather lewd moment which resulted in a confrontation with state lawmen. Perhaps they were stunned, a bit baffled or just let us go, but they refrained from checking our vehicle, which was littered with beer and excrement. We conversed with the local yokels and made several eccentric contacts who encouraged our crew to film naked women on their Harleys. Low on funds, we politely declined and pressed on. We signed their "star" wall, had beer and fried catfish and eventually shot all the scenes necessary.
Hell
On October 31, after all of the film was developed and transferred to digital video, the arduous task of editing was upon us. To loosen up, Duane purchased a $100 worth of horror film favorites on DVD. We soaked them in for the first week and set a realistic goal. The Sundance/Slamdance submission deadlines had passed, but we knew if we worked diligently we could make the early deadlines for next year. That was our star, and we shot toward it like a red-hot rocket.
Duane had a Mac iBook equipped with Final Cut Pro, and I own a PC with Adob
e Premiere. Between the two machines, we burned the midnight oil building HEADCHEESE. Duane's storyboards assisted us immensely in the cutting, as we knew how the basic flow would go. However, nothing can go too smoothly in this business, as we spent countless hours transferring material from one computer to the other. We zombied our way to the caffeine section of our corner Walgreens, purchasing gallons of Red Bull, Mountain Dew and various other legal stimulants. Hallucinating from sleep depravation the next two months found us in the all too familiar editing haze.
First the silent video was cut, then came the chore of adding music, ambient sounds, dialogue and voice over. The Internet became an invaluable tool, connecting us with numerous talented musicians around the world. We were looking for a unique type of sound, and soon came upon the perfect musicians: James "MOZ" Brand and Justin "Ardabus Rubber" Baker. Describing their music as "harmonious chaos and intense brainwave manipulation," they provided the score necessary for the gritty, abrasive material in HEADCHEESE.
Heaven
Upon completion, we are very proud of the results, and hopeful of its future. We have shown the final cut to several individuals involved with the original "
Chainsaw," including Kim Henkel who immediately agreed to come on board as a producer of the project. We also spoke with Tobe Hooper about the film and he is eager to see it. In the midst of all this, Duane and I have begun writing the screenplay for our next project, which will be a feature. The hands-on experience of producing HEADCHEESE was invaluable and has proven more educational than any film school classroom. Through the difficulties, the awkward moments and the times of stress, we have enjoyed every pain and thrill the movie has brought. As of the writing of this article, Quick Hill has about thirty days left before it is bulldozed entirely to make way for a new highway and shopping area.
And in the immortal words of Legion, "Do not cast me into the pit of swine, but instead, let evil breed within the depths of my soul."
The End
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