The Tragedy of TromaAttending this screening brought closure to a brief but strange chapter in my life. Back in 2019 I heard indie smut icon Lloyd Kaufman interviewed on a podcast, during which he mentioned that he was preparing to make what might be his directorial swan song for Troma. Following the success of cult hit "Tromeo & Juliet," Kaufman would return to the Bard for inspiration and adapt his favorite Shakespeare play, "The Tempest." Naturally there would be a Troma twist, and the titular storm would actually be the cause of a hurricane combined with the fecal plumes from orca whales (this is a real life phenomenon), thus creating SHAKESPEARE'S SHITSTORM. He closed the interview by saying that he was currently auditioning for the production and that anyone could come by Troma's offices in Queens and be put on tape. "Hey," I thought. "I'm an out of work actor living in New York. How excited would my teenage self be to achieve the dream of being featured in a Troma movie?" What fools we mortals be. I went for my audition and it wasn't long before I got a call telling me that they would love to have me involved for the epic yacht party scene that gets disrupted by the deadly storm. I got a real kick out of the idea of being in the film, started telling friends about it, and made room on my shelf for the inevitable blu-ray that I could proudly display as "my Troma movie." And then I didn't hear anything for a while. I almost forgot all about it. Then one day out of the blue I got an email informing me of a production meeting that requested the presence of all the actors in my scene. Just a standard meeting in which the specifics of the shooting would be discussed, as well as requests for costuming and such. I trekked out to Queens yet again on the day of beckoning. Once I arrived at the modest office, I couldn't find anyone there. I knocked repeatedly but nobody came to greet me. Likewise, there weren't any other actors showing up for this supposed meeting I had been invited to. Was I in the wrong place? Finally, just when I was about to give up, a couple folks ambled up to the cottage and I asked if there was still a meeting. Meeting? It was the first either of them were hearing about it. But they invited me in so they could sort it all out. After some phone calls were made they realized that there had been a meeting scheduled for that day, but whoever had called it had quit/been fired the previous day and it had thrown the whole production out of whack. Whatever meeting was meant to take place would have to be rescheduled, but they felt bad that I had come all the way out there for nothing so they asked if I would like to see some of the exciting props that they had been working on for the film."Here's the pipe that breaks dumps shit on everyone. See? The hose gets inserted here and we blast it out of this cracked opening here." Uh oh. Is this a dagger I see before me? Of course I was going to be sprayed with liquid shit. It's a Troma movie after all. Oh well. That's an acceptable right of passage and will only make for a better story, right? It was about this time when I asked what sort of costuming I would need and if there was someone I should submit my measurements to. They told me that actors had to provide their own wardrobe, but not to worry, because it wasn't anything that we wouldn't have hanging in our own closets anyway. I was shown some animal puppets with human genitals sprouting out of them and was assured that this was going to be a great movie. I stumbled home, wary of what I had gotten myself into. The next day I got a call apologizing for the confusion and assuring me that the production would begin the following week as scheduled. I asked about costuming. "Right. You'll need two identical suits. One clean and one that will get covered in shit." Ah. So that's what they meant by "nothing that wasn't already hanging in my closet." Two completely identical suits, one of which I'd presumably never be able to wear again.Shaken but undeterred, I began looking at goodwill stores for cheap suits I could buy and soil. I found a few options that might be close enough to one another if you didn't look too closely, but they each were priced around $60. I realized I never got around to asking what payment was going to be for this gig and if any expenses would be reimbursed. "Oh. There's no money for non principal roles. You're basically getting paid in the glory and honor of participating in a Troma movie." Ay, there's the rub. There was a time when I was willing to work for free. I still sometimes do if it's a favor for a friend, but I'm not usually pouring money in to buy my own costumes and have to take trains home from Queens whiled covered in brown goop. (I had asked if there were showers available and was told that they would have hoses) How badly did I want to be in a Troma movie? To be... or not to be? I was told that I would get a call about reimbursing me for part or all of any costume I needed to purchase, as well informing me of the schedule and location of the strip club in which we'd be shooting at. I was told that for my trouble they would beef up my role and give me some more featured dialogue, and even offered to solve my costuming issue by removing the suit from the equation and let me play one of the fat diapered men. I was starting to regret bragging to friends that they would soon get to see me in a Troma movie. But then I didn't hear from anyone. Not a call. Not an email. Nothing. I would write to them and never get a response. (later I learned that the person I had been emailing with also left the production without ever looping me in with her replacement) I told my wife that I was beginning to think that the project was dead. Weeks went by and then one Saturday night at 1:30 AM I got a phone call asking if I was ready to come to set at 8:00 AM Monday morning. I hadn't heard a word in weeks and now was being given less than 36 hours notice. But I figured with this slapdash sudden summoning that less would be required of me so I figured I didn't have anything to lose. I asked how long the day would be and was told that the sequence would be a 9 day shoot, 14 hours apiece. 9 days. Covered in shit. Wearing a diaper. I exhaled, apologized to my inner "Toxic Avenger" 13 year old self, and bowed out of the production. I felt bad. Really I did. At the very least, this was going to be a fun story and it would have been cool to meet Lloyd Kaufman and see the workings of a Troma set. I followed the production on Twitter and over the next week watched posted videos of naked porn stars getting sprayed with the shit hose, men in (identical?) suits rolling around in kiddie pools full of brown water and floating turds, and diapered men posing for pictures with a then still free and at large Ron Jeremy. If I had been 15 years younger, this might have been the time of my life, but watching the disgusting footage from the warm, dry confines of my home, I had no regrets. Cut to nearly 3 years later and the film is poised for release. I saw that Kaufman would be presenting the film at Nitehawk in Williamsburg and I figured that I simply had to go see it to find out if my decision would be validated or if I would end up kicking myself for such a missed opportunity. The film, crafted solely to offend, was pretty rough stuff. It appeared to have lower production values than even some of the cheapest Troma films I had seen. Always a studio that prided itself on gross-out gags and political incorrectness, I had come to expect a certain consistent quality from the Toxic company. This was so bad that I began to wonder if any of the other studio films that I had enjoyed, such as "Class of Nuke 'Em High" or "Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead," were perhaps not quite as sophomoric masterpieces as I had remembered. Were these movies always this terrible? Have I just finally grown up and can see them for what they are? But throughout the evening, I did begin to grow a reluctant fondness for the film. Yes, it was crude and disgusting, but it wore that as a badge of honor. Kaufman was front and center in a dual role, and he seemed so happy to have his Shakespearean vision fully realized. I was actually surprised by how faithful to "The Tempest" the film managed to be. Sure, Shakespeare never envisioned shit orgies and mutant animals, but the film still has a five act structure with a Prospero, Miranda, and a Caliban. I only got a couple shameful chuckles out of it myself, but those in the target audience were lapping it up and applauding vigorously. And to think, I could have had some small piece of its glory. Well, having witnessed one of many shit-soaked featured roles that could have belonged to me, I think I'm glad that I passed on appearing in this film for free. But I'm also kind of glad this got made and will be enjoyed by Troma's still passionate fanbase, which I modestly consider myself to be part of, but maybe a bit less than I used to be. All's well that ends well.
