The Film Director--and His Battle Scars

The tall, reedy, bespectacled Texan Kevin Reynolds knows something about battle scars--so you believe him when he says he felt a tremendous affinity toward “The Beast,” his second directing assignment. The movie relates the rugged journey of the crew of a crippled Soviet tank that is pursued across the arid Afghanistan terrain by a band of freedom fighters.

The 38-year-old Reynolds earned his Hollywood wounds on his first film and became renowned within the industry as “the man who defied Steven Spielberg.”

As the legend goes, Spielberg was impressed by “Proof,” a student film that Reynolds made at USC. The project, based on one of Reynolds’ Texas college pranks, was ushered, through Spielberg’s Amblin Entertainment, into Warner Bros. development mill. It emerged as “Fandango,” a quirky, arresting, coming-of-age saga starring then-unknowns Kevin Costner and Judd Nelson.

Mentor Spielberg and protege Reynolds clashed over the film’s final form but Reynolds prevailed. However, when the film was released in 1985, Spielberg’s name was gone from the credits, and that withdrawal resulted (as Hollywood wisdom had it) in a bare minimum release and a spartan promotional budget from the studio.

When asked about the friction, Reynolds was taken aback. But the momentary shock quickly gave way to a Cheshire-cat grin as wide as his native Texas prairie.

“You pay a price for these things,” he admitted with the tone of a now-wiser war veteran. “You may recall the kind of release the picture received. I think it’s safe to say that if it weren’t for Kevin’s (Costner’s) current popularity, the film would never have been broadcast on network television.”

But had the well-publicized conflict continued to haunt him?

“There was never any lasting animosity,” said Reynolds. In fact, an unexpected rapprochement with Spielberg occurred later when the mentor asked him to direct an episode of his “Amazing Stories” series.

“He just called out of the blue to say he had something he thought I’d be right for. I read it, said I’d do it if I could do a re-write . . . and he agreed.”

Reynolds knows about movie-making battles both artistic and professional. He wrote a mythical one in which America was conquered by Soviets forces titled “Red Dawn.” However, he noted that his view of war as dehumanizing and desensitizing was not shared by director John Milius.

“The Beast,” provided a different set of skirmishes. Written by playwright William Mastrosimone, it spent a grueling five years in development and production and weathered two administrations at Columbia Pictures before its release.

“It really is true what they say about film making being like a battlefield,” insisted Reynolds in his casual, lingering drawl. “The fact that ‘The Beast’ deals with a real war doesn’t make the off-screen fighting any easier but it surely brings it into a vivid perspective.”

The Reynolds’ route to Hollywood was unquestionably unconventional. Although he conceded to a lifelong fascination with the movies, it was never part of his career ambitions. He was persuaded at an early age to enter law and received his degree from Baylor.

“I truly hated law school,” he related. “Friends kept on assuring me that once I was out in the real world, things would be better. The truth, for me, was I became increasingly more miserable the longer I practiced.”

His specialty became election law, and one still senses both the bookishness and litigious construction behind his thoughts. He moved to Austin where he worked for Mark White before his successful campaign for governor. While he disliked the work, it afforded him a great deal of leisure time and what he described as a very generous income. He noticed that the University of Texas was offering evening classes in film making and decided to sign up for an introductory course.

“The university had tremendous resources--wonderful sound stages, equipment and post-production facilities. All you really needed was money to buy and process the film. I wound up making some truly horrid films but I also learned a hell of a lot. When I felt I’d gone as far as I could go, it was time to make a decision.”

Reynolds decided that if he were accepted at the USC Film School, he’d leave his law books behind. He approached one of his instructors, veteran director Edward Dmytrk (“Murder, My Sweet,” “The Caine Mutiny”) about writing him a letter of recommendation. Dmytrk, he recalled, was stunned about his plan.

“He tried to dissuade me with the warning that it was ‘the toughest job in the world.’ ” Nonetheless, Dmytrk was willing to give him a glowing letter of support. Reynolds was accepted, gave White his notice and entered USC’s program in 1979.

Several forays, skirmishes and battles later, his agent sent him an outline of Mastrosimone’s then-titled “Nanawatai,” which was based upon the writer’s stage play. Reynolds said he was immediately impressed by the uniqueness of the drama.

“I can’t recall an American film that’s ever attempted to come to terms with the stupidity of a contemporary war it wasn’t directly involved in,” he said. “What was striking about the script was that the Russians weren’t portrayed as one-dimensional bad guys. They were real characters caught up in a conflict--some consumed by feelings of duty, others still struggling with the morality of their involvement.”

Reynolds and Mastrosimone both gravitated to the moral underpinnings of the story. The author remembered being inspired to write on the subject after viewing a television documentary about the war in 1980. In particular, he was haunted by the vision of an Afghani boy who defiantly and unflinchingly stood in the path of a Soviet tank and was crushed under its tread.

“Those few seconds made me wonder what kind of people the Afghanis were,” said Mastrosimone. “My obsession to understand them led me to read about Islam and the Koran--their holy book.”

Mastrosimone went to Pakistan prior to writing the play and was spirited into Afghanistan where he spent eight days with a rebel group. Prior to filming “The Beast,” Reynolds ventured as far as the Pakistani border, where he encountered refugees and rebels.

“It’s unquestionably the most exotic place I’ve ever been. You imagine it to be something like Casablanca during the Second World War--colorful and tragic.”

Mastrosimone said he was impressed by Reynolds’ passion for the subject matter. “On opening night of the play in Los Angeles in 1985, he came up to me afterwards and said he was convinced more than ever that it would make a great film. He was consumed by the hunt and wanted me to make the story more spare. It turned out to be one of those rare collaborations where the director was truer to my word than I would have ever been.”

Reynolds had initially discussed making “The Beast” as a film with producer Dale Pollock at the Geffen Co. While Geffen passed, Pollock remained interested and acquired the property for development with Reynolds to direct when he moved to A&M; Films in 1986. The first person approached about financing was David Puttnam, who’d recently become the president of Columbia.

“David really liked the project,” recalled Pollock. “He felt it would play very well in foreign markets and be a strong seller on video. He felt it had the power of ‘Midnight Express.’ But he was nervous about its domestic performance because much of the dialogue was to be in a foreign language and subtitled. We convinced him that its positive aspects outweighed any perceived problems.”

By studio standards “The Beast”--despite rugged locations, extensive use of military equipment and pyrotechnical demands--was modestly budgeted at $8 million. The film would be shot entirely in Israel which, aside from possessing physical locations strikingly similar to the actual venue, had an abundance of Soviet military uniforms and hardware, including the pivotal tanks.

Filmed in the spring of 1987, it was planned for an April 1988 release. But with Puttnam’s departure, the new administration was slow to firm up marketing and distribution plans. Pollock acknowledged that there’s always a “degree of apprehension” with a film moving from an old to a new administration.

Ironically, new Columbia has formulated a release for the film that echoes the ex-studio chief’s gut predictions. In North America, it opened last Friday on a limited basis in Los Angeles, New York City and Toronto, where it was launched at that city’s annual film festival two days earlier. Subsequent distribution will be determined by these engagements.

The foreign release will be launched more boldly. “The Beast” premiered at France’s Deauville Film Festival in early September and immediately opened on more than 120 French screens, including 33 in Paris. In its first week it did a disappointing 21,000 admissions. “Good Morning, Vietnam,” also premiering last week, attracted 70,000 filmgoers.

In the film, the Afghanis, portrayed by Israeli extras and actors Steven Bauer and Kabir Bedi, speak in Pushtu, a native dialect. The Soviets speak English, employing the tough banter associated with American war movies.

“It’s unconventional but the entire project defies norms,” insisted Reynolds. “A lot of what a director does on any film is simply to apply common sense. Because film is a realistic medium you cannot show two people speaking the same language and pretend they do not understand one another.”

“Kevin’s basic rule is let’s get it right, let’s make it real,” said actor Steven Bauer. “So, it started with learning Pushtu and went on to the proper handling of knives and guns--really using them and not just play-acting. It was the toughest working experience I’ve ever had. The conditions were miserable and we could have easily turned into Ugly Americans. I suspect that part of the reason we didn’t was Kevin’s attitude, which in the midst of all this was courageous.”

Reynolds also sent the actors portraying Soviet tankmen--including George Dzundza, Jason Patric and Don Harvey--into the Israeli desert on a 10-day survival and combat-readiness program supervised by former Marine Capt. Dale Dye just before the start of filming.

(Dye had gained industry notoriety for a similar program he created on “Platoon.”)

“It was one of the best ideas we had for,” Reynolds said. “Dale really effected a radical transformation. The actors emerged as different people. They knew their equipment, they worked as a unit and they understood the terrain. They’d also grown attached to their uniforms, if you get my drift.”

“Dale insisted we wear the uniforms buttoned up, and the boots we wore didn’t really fit us,” recalled actor Patric. “It was tough but no one felt that what we were going through wasn’t important. Kevin has a vision and he’s very good at getting that across. Every director has commitment but it’s rare to find someone like him who actually has conviction about the films he does.”

Reynolds admitted that he still feels too close to the material to provide any objectivity about its content or worth.

“There are intentions and there is what’s up on the screen. You have to accept that you’re never going to get exactly what you want. It is not necessarily better or worse, it is of itself. It’s organic and if you try to analyze it too closely, you’re likely to kill whatever value it has. I can only say that it’s like embarking on an adventure and that’s what keeps me going.”