MOVIES : From the Ashes, Gingerly : Brian De Palma is trying to get beyond the ‘Bonfire of the Vanities’ debacle, with help from a new wife, a new child and a new film

The December, 1991, publication of “The Devil’s Candy: ‘The Bonfire of the Vanities’ Goes to Hollywood” was a difficult moment in director Brian De Palma’s life: an authorized and all-too-painful documentation, by Wall Street Journal writer Julie Salamon, of a film the director would like to forget. Far from boosting the director’s career, 1990’s “The Bonfire of the Vanities” had nearly sabotaged it--becoming an ironic, high-profile symbol of the “excess” Tom Wolfe’s best-selling novel had mocked.

“I didn’t read the (Salamon) book,” De Palma claims, sitting in his Santa Monica hotel suite in a well-worn safari jacket and jeans. “I’ve just stared at it in bookstores, read a few paragraphs and the whole horrible experience came back. I should have made the movie smaller, closer to the original material, instead of re-creating the opulence of New York. The lead character, Sherman McCoy, was supposed to be an arrogant aristocrat but--with Tom Hanks in the role--I turned him into an Everyman. I wanted the audience to root for the characters, which was the worst mistake I could make.”

De Palma is hoping that “Raising Cain,” to be released by Universal on Friday, will take the edge off--if not eradicate--the memory. The unorthodox murder-mystery marks a return--after 1987’s critically acclaimed hit “The Untouchables” and the well-received, if commercially disappointing, Vietnam saga “Casualties of War”--to the thrillers such as “Carrie” and “Dressed to Kill” that established him as Hollywood’s Master of the Macabre. It’s also the first film in which the 51-year-old director has joined forces with Gale Anne Hurd--producer of such hits as “Aliens” and “Terminator 2,” his wife of a year, and the mother of their 10-month-old daughter.

The movie, starring John Lithgow, Lolita Davidovich and Steven Bauer, is the story of an obsessed child psychologist who, out of pathological and scientific motives, kidnaps his daughter and other neighborhood kids. Engaged in a schizophrenic struggle between good and evil, he frames his wife’s ex-lover. That it was brought in on schedule and a full $1 million below its original $12-million budget was crucial, given the runaway cost of his last venture.

“One film like that doesn’t suddenly nullify an entire career,” says Universal studio chief Tom Pollock, explaining his decision to sign De Palma and Hurd to a two-year “first-look” deal shortly after “Bonfire” bottomed out. “It doesn’t make you ‘untalented.’ Brian took the bullet and immediately climbed back on the horse. He had to prove, mostly to himself, that he could bring a movie in on budget. Making one quickly and inexpensively was the best way to put ‘Bonfire’ behind him.”

De Palma says he’s happy with “Raising Cain,” which he describes as “fun,” “scary” and “unexpected.” But, aware that it will be regarded as a “comeback” of sorts, he attempts to provide some perspective.

“Gale and I are pretty bottom-line about things,” he says. “We don’t get carried away with the poetry of what we’re doing. This isn’t (Marcel Proust’s) ‘Remembrance of Things Past.’ It’s just a low-budget mystery-suspense film we hope will go out and make a little money.”

De Palma is determinedly low-profile these days, as befits someone recuperating from a one-two punch. The first blow came in 1989, when the $23-million “Casualties of War,” a true story of the 1966 brutalization of a Vietnamese girl and its impact on a group of American GIs, took in a meager $18.7 million at the box office.

“I took it very hard,” the director says. “There was a lot of my heart in that movie. I was very depressed, staring into space wondering where it all went wrong. The only answer I could come up with was that no one wanted to see the rape and killing of an innocent girl--and a guy who didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t give the audience a happy ending.”

Frustrated by his foray into “substance,” De Palma sought out a hit. “The Bonfire of the Vanities”--the story of a patrician stockbroker whose life is destroyed when he takes the wrong turn in the Bronx--seemed a likely prospect. But since a tale skewering the Greed Ethic--savaging both the “haves” and the “have nots”--seemed insufficiently upbeat for a $45-million film, he cast Tom Hanks, Melanie Griffith and Bruce Willis as the leads, changed the tone and . . . and turned the movie into a costly--and embarrassing--flop. “De Palma Damps the ‘Bonfire’: A Rich Novel Is Turned Into an Overstated, Cartooned Film for Dullards,” blasted the Los Angeles Times headline, typifying the overall response.

De Palma acknowledges the error of his ways. “This is a mea culpa ,” the director states in a rare burst of Hollywood candor. “Warner Bros. gave me feedback but I made the decisions. No matter how many memos I got, it was my fault. I was wrong. I didn’t throw money around. I wasn’t trying to offend anyone. But, trying to be ‘successful,’ I made a very unsuccessful movie.”

In his mind, however, the fiasco was overplayed. “The movie became a symbol--just as Ivan Boesky, Dennis Levine and Michael Milken were symbols--out of scope for what it was,” De Palma asserts. “ ‘Bonfire’ came to represent everything that was wrong about Hollywood . . . and Warner Bros. and I happened to be in the middle.”

Art Linson, producer of “The Untouchables and “Casualties of War,” agrees that things got out of hand. “I haven’t seen an attack like that since ‘Heaven’s Gate’ (Michael Cimino’s 1980 box-office disaster and another symbol of filmmaking run amok). Brian felt like he was shot by a firing squad. He was deeply burned out.”

Nevertheless, says the director--a no-nonsense sort who shoots from the hip--the book performs a much-needed service. “Julie is a good reporter--I’ve known her for years,” he explains. “And her book accurately portrays moviemaking in Hollywood. No one tells you the truth in this business--Hollywood journalism is a contradiction in terms--so her work is important for historical purposes. Ironically, it’s all the more accurate because most films fail. I don’t feel betrayed because I opened the door. If I hurt some people’s feelings, I deeply apologize.”

Hurd is less magnanimous, understandably protective of the man in her life. “I never read the book,” maintains the 36-year-old producer, relaxing in the Santa Monica offices of her 10-year-old Pacific Western Productions stylishly outfitted in a black suit, white stockings and suede heels. “It wouldn’t do me any good. I know Brian. Everything starts from ground zero in a relationship. I don’t need to know other people’s perceptions of him prior to the time we met.”

In the end, Hurd maintains, not just De Palma--but Hollywood--was stung. “It’s very unlikely that books examining every aspect of moviemaking will be authorized in the future,” she says soberly. “And I can understand why. No one is happy with that book--but Brian is very level-headed about things you can’t change.”

To recuperate from the “Bonfire” trauma, De Palma retreated for awhile--taking skiing lessons at Snowmass near Aspen, Colo., buying a home with Hurd outside Palo Alto, generally staying as far away from Hollywood--and the business--as possible. “I didn’t read reviews, but neither was I philosophical,” the director notes. “When you’re burned down to the ground, you just try to get up in the morning and go back to work.”

It’s at times like those, De Palma observes, that he draws on the wisdom of the mobster boss in his 1983 movie “Scarface”: “In the immortal words of Tony Montana,” he says, mimicking Al Pacino’s throaty delivery, “ ‘Every day above ground is a good day.’ ”

Bolstered by Hurd, whom he’d met at a business dinner a few weeks before “Bonfire” opened, De Palma proceeded to raise “Cain.” The idea emanated not from impending fatherhood, he says, but from a psychologist-friend of his who quit his job and stayed home to study--and write up--his child.

“I thought it was strange, like a little laboratory,” he recalls “What, I wondered, would be the impact of that trauma on the child 30 years later? Psychologists are essentially like archeologists, focusing on ancient history all the time . . . a father’s hand on a child’s thigh, his failure to catch her when she jumped. I thought it might be interesting to create the future and show the impact of all that.”

The cinematic possibilities of thrillers provided another incentive for De Palma who is among the most visual of directors working today.

“In a different era, I would love to have been a silent-film director,” says De Palma. “If you are dependent on words you aren’t using what makes movies movies. In thrillers, images--dark corners, people following each other, intense closeups--are used to create tension, emotion, ambience. Those directors driven more by character and ideas should spend time making thrillers to get a better grip on the medium they’re working in. You have to learn how to write before you can express the great ideas of our time.”

De Palma and Hurd take pains to point out that, by today’s standards, “Raising Cain” is neither bloody nor graphic--despite a series of murders perpetrated on women. It’s a subject on which the director is particularly touchy given charges of misogyny directed at his films in the past. For one thing, he notes, the film’s protagonist--as in such other Hurd projects as “The Terminator” and “Aliens”--is a woman: a strong, professionally accomplished sort who is, in no way, a victim. For another, putting women in prominent roles in his movies has to do more with aesthetics than hostility.

“Women are more aesthetically pleasing,” he comments, “which is why they’ve been painted throughout history. And a woman walking down a corridor grabs an audience more viscerally than Dolph Lundgren walking down a corridor. But, these days, putting a woman in ‘The Perils of Pauline’ takes on a new political meaning. Topics such as violence, sex, gay issues, the Holocaust are dissected on talk shows and, if you use them in a dramatic form, they’re evaluated in a political context. That’s an incredible responsibility.”

If opting for an inexpensive thriller seems like a safe move on the part of De Palma, the sensibility of the picture is not. Humor is very integral to the mix.

“There’s more than one way of scaring an audience,” the director explains. “You can put them in the perennial dark corridor with a maniac loose or you can create an amusing situation that puts them off-guard. People are more vulnerable when they’re relaxed and feel superior to the material. This movie takes left and right turns. Information doesn’t unfold chronologically. If people want things conventional, they should stay home and watch TV.”

To clarify matters, Universal has rewritten the “Raising Cain” press kit, emphasizing De Palma’s quasi-comical approach. “People have to realize they can laugh and be scared at the same time,” the director says.

Some audiences, apparently, are finding that a challenge. According to one trade publication and general word-of-mouth, pre-release screenings of the film have not gone well. De Palma traces the press account to one mean-spirited critic and says that, based on seven or eight public previews he has attended, “the film does what it’s supposed to do.”

Hurd, labeling the film a “hybrid high-wire act,” acknowledges that some people are confused. “It concerns me that people deny we were intending to be funny,” she says, “and see it simply as over-the-top. Opening it during the summer is another concern of mine. We can lose this movie quickly if it doesn’t open huge. Making a film, I’m a great optimist, but when it comes to release time, I’m the ultimate cynic--I’d rather be pleasantly surprised.”

Whatever the outcome, says Hurd, De Palma’s career will not rise or fall on “Raising Cain.” “In the perception of the town, Brian certainly has more at stake than I,” observes the producer, whose last two projects were 1991’s top-grossing film “Terminator 2” and the film festival award-winner “The Waterdance.” “But he’s one of a handful of directors with whom actors and actresses want to work. He makes them comfortable. He understands the characters. That makes for a lengthy career because, under the studio system, to get stars, you need a director who can attract them. Besides, any perceived failure is an opportunity to change.”

Linson also dismisses thoughts of his close friend’s demise. “Brian has nothing to worry about,” he states. “He’d have a lot riding on this picture if there were a lot of great directors in Hollywood . . . which there are not. The ‘Bonfire’ episode jolted him, sure, but he fell in love, had a kid and pulled out the strength to write and direct a movie. Actually, I’m rather proud of him. He’s got guts.”

Though a couple of big-budget, unprofitable films can be the death knell in a bottom-line industry, De Palma shows no signs of slowing down. He expects to start shooting “Carlito’s Way,” Edwin Torres’ story of a Puerto Rican growing up in the barrio, for Universal in the fall. Developed by Martin Bregman, the project will star Al Pacino. “Kingdom of Love,” a love story set in the silent-film era, is another prospect. But, it is in “turnaround”--up for grabs to anyone who’ll reimburse the studio for its investment--at Columbia Pictures.

As “Raising Cain’s” release date approaches, the director insists, he’s no more anxious than usual.

“If they’re calling this a ‘rebound,’ I might as well get it over with,” he says. “I intend to go on making movies . . . and I can only go up. Anyhow, this town has a very short memory.

“As they explained to Sherman McCoy,” De Palma concludes with a rueful smile, “you become ‘lunch’--and the next week they can’t remember what they ate.”