Last year’s best kept cinematic secret talks back

Thursday, April 4, 1996

Director talks about struggles with academy, ‘Crumb’s’ video
releaseBy Lael Loewenstein

Daily Bruin Contributor

When Terry Zwigoff’s film, "Crumb," first screened at the
Toronto International Film Festival in 1994, the programmer didn’t
know what to make of it. Having accepted the documentary with some
reluctance, she anticipated a lukewarm reception.

"She thought people wouldn’t get it, so she introduced it by
saying, ‘This is a weird little film,’" Zwigoff recalls. But the
audience response was overwhelming. "By the end of the week, she
was calling it a masterpiece."

That somewhat rocky beginning was typical of the many roadblocks
"Crumb" ­ a biography of controversial cartoonist R. Crumb
­ had to overcome on its way to becoming the most acclaimed
film of 1995. Among "Crumb’s" obstacles were poor marketing, an
aborted Academy Awards screening and a slew of misconceptions.

And as "Crumb" finally makes its way to video stores ­ it
was released on video last week ­ for Zwigoff, the hassles are
not over.

"Columbia TriStar (which released the video) is the most
frustrating company I’ve ever worked with," sighs Zwigoff, speaking
by phone from his home in San Francisco. "They didn’t have a clue
how to market the film and they’re totally mishandling it."

As a consequence, he says, sales to video stores have only been
about 25 percent of what they might have been, says the
filmmaker.

"They’re used to selling big films, like ‘Legends of the Fall,’
where they put the star’s picture on the box," or in that case,
they promote with life-size cardboard cut-outs of Brad Pitt
hovering over the aisles of Blockbuster Video stores. Clearly, a
marketing campaign of that type wouldn’t have applied to a film as
unusual as "Crumb."

A documentary on artist Robert Crumb (a longtime friend of
Zwigoff) that is by turns hilarious and deeply disturbing, "Crumb"
found its theatrical success thanks to strong critical buzz and
word-of-mouth advertising. Reviewers praised Zwigoff for an
impartial attitude toward his subject, whose bizarre sexual
proclivities and misogyny are reflected in his work and
conversations.

"Sony Pictures Classics, which released it theatrically, was at
least open to my suggestions," he explains. "It was a hard fight. A
lot of things they did I was unhappy with and I thought were
ridiculously stupid, like the trailer, which was moronic and an
abomination. It wasn’t even funny." But eventually the film caught
on, earning close to $4 million, which ­ given its budget of
under $200,000 ­ is staggering.

Zwigoff points out that major miscalculation of the video
distributor was not to exploit the film’s critical response.

"They had some of the best reviews of any film ever made to work
with, and they didn’t use them," he says.

He does not exaggerate. The April edition of Premiere magazine
compiled ratings from 17 of the country’s top critics, ranking
every film released in the past year. "Crumb" came out on top.

"Crumb" may have been the critics’ pick and earned a truckload
of festival awards (including the documentary Grand Jury prize at
Sundance), but it wasn’t even nominated for an Academy Award. The
story behind its failure to earn a nomination has become nearly
legendary, revealing with devastating bluntness the inconsistencies
and injustices of Academy Awards nominating.

Some time after Zwigoff had submitted it for the 1994 Oscars, he
received a call from a member of the documentary nominating
committee asking for a copy of the film on video.

"I said, ‘You want to see the film again?’" Zwigoff recalls. "He
said, ‘Actually, I’d just like to see the end.’"

As it turns out, the screening committee had shut off the film
after only 25 minutes, automatically depriving it of a nomination.
Of course, "Crumb" wasn’t the only highly-praised film not to be
nominated that year. "Hoop Dreams" was also shut out, causing
considerable controversy and generating a good deal of press.

Zwigoff cites Fine Line’s marketing of "Hoop Dreams" as an
example that Columbia TriStar should have followed.

"I told them to sell the film as an event, as a true story,
instead of a documentary, which is death at the box office. And you
don’t sell to the converted. Columbia kept trying to reach the same
5,000 R. Crumb fans who would know about the film anyway."

Rather than investing money in an advertising campaign ("they
didn’t even bother to make a poster," Zwigoff sighs), the
distributor came up with tacky promotional tie-ins, like packaging
the film to video chains in a marijuana stash box or adding an R.
Crumb "Keep on Truckin’" pendant. Zwigoff nixed the gimmicks.

Though Zwigoff complained, Columbia TriStar tried to brush him
off, telling him to go on to his next project (an original feature
project called "Ghost World") and forget about it.

"I told them I spent six years on that film, and this is the
week it’s supposed to pay off for me, and they’re telling me to
forget about it?"

Sounding a lot like his friend, legendary curmudgeon R. Crumb,
Zwigoff adds pointedly, "I’m sure they hate me at this point. But I
hate them more."

Filmmaker Terry Zwigoff portrays the misogynistic proclivities
of R. Crumb (center).