1993 Adventures in Wey-land Director/Co-Producer
1994 DWG: Dumb White Guy Writer/Director 1995 Dumbguy Forever Writer/Director
1995 Pirates on the Edge Concept
1996 Twister Flying Cow
1999 Two Roads Diverged Writer/Director/Actor
1999 Gay Will Hunting Key Grip
1999 Shakespeare in Love Best Actress
2000 Two Roads Diverged Redux Writer/Director/Actor
2000 Mookiefish: The Musical Director/Choreographer
2006 Wife Swap Executive Producer

Recognize those titles. If you call yourself a cineast you would. If you call yourself a cynicist, you may also!!! Sure, a quick scan will uncover just as many false positives as valid credentials but all joking aside, the majority of those projects were worked on by me in my spare time at one point or another.

Deep within the bowels of my cavernous abode (it’s common knowledge that a massive labyrinth of tunnels snake below the surface of every Central MA home built since 2002), stored at the very bottom of a subterranean well (accessed by riding a strange whicker basket/pulley contraption (B.Y.O.L. bring your own lotion)) - one can find my personal film vault. Its contents include such vintage silver screen mementos as a Fargo Snow Globe (one shake and suddenly that leg in the wood chipper has even more pressing concerns - what with being all barefoot and bootless and all), the mummified remains of Mr. Steven Segal and a large Bostonian shoebox stuffed to the hilt with 8mm Sony Handycam tapes. It’s this last piece that serves as a virtual treasure trove of clips from the above-mentioned flicks.

Just in time for Oscar season, here’s a primer:

Adventures in Wey-land
In the winter of 1993, two college guys on a semester break did what Michael Moore does - grabbed a Sony Handycam, downed a case of malt liquor and carton of Ho Ho’s and hit the mean streets of Rockland and Weymouth for the sake of documenting revisionist history. By the time we were done, Sean was the Rockland High All State in Rugby and I was Homecoming Queen 1989 - set adrift on memory bliss with ‘the wind beneath my wings’ holding me aloft.

DWG: Dumb White Guy
My first foray into the world of narrative cinema. In 1994, as I rounded 3rd following four years of college education, I chose the metaphorical headfirst slide into home and entertained the notion of trading in my B.A. in Journalism for something more noble. A big time Hollywood director – ya’ know, just like McG. At the time, I had been reviewing films for my school newspaper and after viewing such life-altering cinematic bon-mots as National Lampoon’s Loaded Weapon 1 and Cool Runnings, I knew that if someone didn’t stride into Hollywood as the new sheriff, we were doomed to a lifetime of crap. Unfortunately common sense prevailed, I stayed the course I had set and now I work for a financial services company where each year an ounce of my soul is siphoned and my writing skillz slo-lee deterio… deteriaar… ahhh, fall down and go boom.

Oh as for the movie, I wrote the screenplay in Macroeconomics, so it largely sucks, although it does impart some compelling lessons on Post-Keynesian Economics and the homeopathic benefits of quad streaking.

Dumbguy Forever
Buoyed by the mammoth reception for Joel Schumacher’s classic reinvention of the Batman mythos (equaled only by the public fervor for his follow-up Batman & Robin and Mapplethorpe’s pisschrist) - I cobbled together this screenplay which dialed up the nudity, toned down the voodoo economics and played homage to almost any element of pop-culture I could sink my greedy little plagiarizing mitts into. Working on a $79.95 budget (3 blank tapes, two days of craft services and one ill-advised visit to the Foxy), Dumbguy Forever (or DGF as Access Hollywood dubbed it) out-Rodriguezed Roberto. Among some of the highlights which I have burned to celluloid (and which I shall reveal at only the most opportune time - i.e. Best Man speeches, eulogies, electoral campaigns) are shots of my pal Rich in drag being chased through a parking lot by a screeching minivan full of gun-toting thugs, Sean struggling through Takes 1 through 193 as he tried to utter the line ‘I’m gonna’ baste you in batter and chicken fry your ass!’ and a backroads’ pickup truck chase in which yours truly jumps onto a passing pickup truck (only to find that his bare arm and the velcro that ran along the edge of the pickup bed made like oil and water.) Hey, nothing a 60 day circuit of skin grafts couldn’t fix.

Mookiefish: The Musical
For several years, through the late 90’s/early 00’s, my posse and I would rent a cottage on Cape Cod for a week of drunken buffonery, rampant debauchery and scenic lighthouse gazing. One year, we grabbed a handful of walkie-talkies, capitalized on a rash of shark sitings, and paced Chatham Light Beach gazing at the horizon and barking orders at each other through the hand-sets along the lines of:

“Well keep looking! I don’t need a repeat of that fiasco with that damn Kitner boy’s remains spilling out all over the docks.”

Hahhhhh, Hahhhh!!! Fun times.

Anyway, another year we played it safe and staged a light-hearted movie musical. Mookiefish told the tale of Mookie, a boy abandoned at the beach and subsequently swept away by the tides, who is taken in by a school of fish and raised as one of their own. Years later, having developed into quite a fine remorseless eating machine, Mookiefish prowls the surf along the coast of a quaint fishing village, exacting revenge upon the populace. Merging Jaws with King Kong and Splash (and nary a hint of originality on our part) this Mookiefish is eventually caught by the old crusty sea captain Conch and returned to society. Mookiefish finally meets and falls in love with an human woman (a la The Little Mermaid) and all looks rosy until one fateful evening when she serves him a platter of McCain’s fish sticks - thus awakening his inner rage. Rather than fall back upon his violent ways, Mookiefish makes his way back to the ocean, to his true home. Featuring such classic tunes as Surf or Turf?, the gangsta-rap C4Me Motherf’r, I Must be Me, I Must Return to the Sea (love theme from Mookiefish: The Musical) and the cathartic Trust the Gorton’s Fisherman? F@#k the Gorton’s Fisherman!!! - the film truly captured the heart-wrenching emotions so inherent to the plight of fishboys everywhere.

Two Roads Diverged
An actual bid for respectability. While this film still reflected a creative alternative to just hanging around with my pals, downing brews and watching the Sox falter, this time out I actually took some time to craft a respectable screenplay. The plot, still fairly ludicrous, involved a shadowy government project that operated out of U.S. college campuses. Dubbed the Road Scholars, it identified troubled, yet brilliant, students and put them through rigorous training to become the operatives of the future. (Alias stole from me but I cribbed slightly from La Femme Nikita so it’s all good.) Anyway, the plot takes two agents, best friends since high school, who are set against each other after one begins to express doubts at their line of work. From there, it’s a race against time as Ed Winters (my character - the one with the conscience) tries to beat Ryan Coulton (Sean O’Brien) from hitting his next mark.

True story. While filming the climax, we set-up shop on location on the Harvard campus and throughout Harvard Square. The script called for a chase scene as Winters tries to beat Coulton to the target’s apartment. As my character was being put through the paces - take after take of me running through the campus, dodging bystanders, etc - we heard a muffled din rise over the trees. I turned to my cousin (who portrayed student Niles Amireault) and asked what all the commotion was (I think my exact words were ‘Hey, What’s the hubbub, bub?) - afraid that it might drown out the dialogue. He mentioned that there was a parade going on and that John Lithgow was the Grand Marshal. Suddenly, the proverbial light bulb flashed. Thinking back to that classic action-packed chase scene through a Chicago St. Patty’s Day parade in The Fugitive, I decided why not film our chase scene with the parade as backdrop. A quick location change later and there I was - duck, dodging and wailing away as John Lithgow waves to the crowd and the band plays on. Lithgow and I appear in the same frame for 3 shots and if I ever complete the project - he gets top billing. Sure, it’s no Harry and the Hendersons, but he’s a credit whore like everyone else.

Anyway, I know I’ve made some fun at my cinematic pursuits over the years, but that’s just the point, we were having fun. Rather than have some old boring video tapes of my pals lounging around waving (or flipping off) the camera, I have these cool little role plays to view decades down the road.

On a more serious note, I have been working on a number of legitimate ideas for novels, screenplays and short stories over the years, and may begin to share some excerpts to gauge public reaction. These are side projects to my daily bread, and mainly exist as exercises to keep myself sharp, but who knows? Stay tuned!!!