My Claymation ad

Here's an ad I designed for the company I worked for at the time, Will Vinton Productions. It appeared in an issue of Variety sometime around late 1979 or early 1980. The scene is from the documentary Claymation. "Outrageous" was the one word uttered (by a bullfrog) in the 8-minute Claymation film Mountain Music (1975); and "Between feature productions" referred to the just-released The Little Prince and Friends (an 84-minute "feature" compilation of Rip Van Winkle, Claymation, and The Little Prince, narrated by Alistair Cookie) and our planned but never completed Metamorphos Man.

To my knowledge, we never received a single call in response to this ad. However, within a few years, Vinton was doing virtually nothing but TV commercials (California Raisins, M&Ms, etc.). Maybe it was just a delayed reaction? : )

Alex Winitsky, Arlene Sellers, Will Vinton, sashimi, and me

One stop Will Vinton and I made on our weeklong trip to Los Angeles in late 1978 was the home of film producers Alex Winitsky and Arlene Sellers, perhaps best known for The Seven-Per-Cent Solution, The Lady Vanishes, Cuba, and Irreconcilable Differences. We were there to discuss the possibility of their backing our planned Claymation feature film, Metamorphos Man.

Winitsky and Sellers were gracious hosts, welcoming us into their home as if we were old friends. The primary details I recall about their living room were a white shag carpet and a white baby grand piano. The decor was similarly ornate, with a large chandelier hanging near the piano and at least one glass-fronted hutch containing numerous awards, memorabilia, and knick knacks. On one wall was a pre-production poster of the movie Cuba, starring Sean Connery.

Ms. Sellers excused herself to the kitchen, and Mr. Sellers showed Will and me to the sunken family room, where a short, Japanese-style dining table sat, pre-set with napkins and small plates for company. I initially assumed it must be for some other company, not us movie mogul wannabes from Orygun, but I was wrong. Mr. Winitsky asked Will and me to sit, cross-legged, and  momentarily Ms. Sellers emerged from the kitchen, carrying a round glass plate full of...raw fish?

I knew you could get trichinosis and die from eating undercooked pork, but I wasn't sure what fate might await me if I ate raw fish. Also, since it was undisguised and unadorned raw fish and looked totally unappetizing, I wasn't sure I was willing to try it.

Ms. Sellers placed the plate on the table in front of us, and Mr. Winitsky said to Will and me, "Ever had sashimi? It's quite good."

Will didn't hesitate for even a second. "Never had it," he said, "but it looks delicious." He stuck his fork into a piece of the raw fish and maneuvered it into his mouth. "Mmmm," he exclaimed, almost unbelievably believable.

I decided I had better follow suit. I stuck my fork into a piece and carefully raised it to my mouth, trying not to look as dubious as I felt and hoping I could pull off acting like I loved it—or at least that it wasn't completely unpalatable.

It was, in fact, quite palatable, so I thankfully had little trouble following Will's fine example.

The remainder of our short visit was devoted to discussing Metamorphos Man, while finishing off the sashimi. It turned out that Winitsky and Sellers were too busy at the moment producing Cuba and weren't in the market for a new project, but they invited us to stay in touch.

Metamorphos Man was ultimately shelved (due to a downturn in the economy, presumably), but our visit wasn't all for naught: I had overcome my fear of raw fish.

Saul Zaentz, Will Vinton, John Fogarty, and Vanz Kant Danz

You may not know the name Saul Zaentz, but you're probably familiar with one of the films or some of the music his company produced. Three of his films—One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Amadeus, and The English Patient—won best picture Oscars, and his record company's flagship band, Creedence Clearwater Revival, sold millions of albums—making Zaentz a rich man.

In 1979, my boss, Claymation film producer Will Vinton, was seeking an investor for what would be the world's first clay-animated feature film, Metamorphos Man. Will and I had spent months courting potential investors, including a weeklong trip to Los Angeles during which we met with film producers Michael Phillips, Alex Winitsky, and Arlene Sellers; animator Nick Bosustow; and an entertainment lawyer named Peter Dekom, among others.

It was Dekom who ultimately landed us not just an investor, but powerhouse producer Saul Zaentz. Zaentz verbally agreed to finance the entire production, to the tune of about $2 million. It was like a dream come true for Will and his crew (including yours truly).

Dekom, who was now Will's business attorney, drew up the papers for Zaentz to sign. Before he would sign, however, Zaentz wanted to visit the studio, ostensibly to meet the crew and scope out the facilities.

It sounded reasonable to us. Why shouldn't we let a guy who was willing to risk $2 million on a relatively unknown quantity see what he was spending his money on?

It was summer when Zaentz came to the studio, and our upstairs offices were hot due to a lack of air conditioning. When Will brought Zaentz into my office to introduce me, I was wearing a T-shirt, cutoffs, and sandals. I'll never forget the look on Zaentz's face as he stepped forward to shake my hand: ashen. I  could feel my face burning, and it wasn't from the heat.

A few days later, Zaentz informed Will that he was backing out of the project. His excuse: a downturn in the economy. It's anyone's guess as to whether that was the real reason, but I'll never stop wondering if it had more to do with my casual attire—or perhaps the casual atmosphere of the studio in general. All of us—Will, Barry Bruce, Don Merkt, Joan Gratz, Matt Wuerker, and myself—were pretty laid back, and in fact I may not have been the only one dressed like a beach bum that afternoon.

Whatever Zaentz's real reason for backing out, Will was crushed. Metamorphos Man would have to be shelved.

Fast forward six years. Creedence Clearwater's John Fogarty enlists Will to do the clay animation for his music video, Zanz Kant Danz.

It would be a collaboration made in heaven: the song's lyrics are a thinly veiled indictment of Zaentz's character and business practices ("Zanz can't dance but he'll steal your money"). However, Zaentz sued Fogarty for defamation and won—sort of. As part of the settlement, Fogarty agreed to changed the word "Zanz" to "Vanz."

It was a minor concession for the sake of art. And beach bums.

Metamorphos Man "scenario"

These are the front and back covers and first page of a screenplay "scenario" for the planned Claymation feature film, Metamorphos Man. Will Vinton and his wife, the late Susan Shadburne, wrote the script; Joan Gratz sculpted the cover images; Matt Wuerker did the cover heads and subheads and inside illustrations; and I handled production (editing, layout, printing, binding) and distribution.

Michael Phillips, Will Vinton, and me

The stereotype of the arrogant, self-absorbed Hollywood producer is well deserved, if my experience with Michael Phillips is any indication. Phillips and his wife Julia produced The Sting, Taxi Driver, and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, along with several other hit movies (and a few duds). I met him at his home in Hollywood during a weeklong trip Will Vinton and I took to Los Angeles to meet with potential investors for our planned Claymation feature film, Metamorphos Man. Phillips was one of several people I had contacted and managed to arrange meetings with during our visit.

Our conversation with Phillips was short. Will gave Phillips his nutshell speech about our plans for Metamorphos Man and our need for financial aid, and then paused to ask Phillips if he had any thoughts or questions. Phillips's reply: "I'm just interested in the state of the art. I'd seen some Claymation stuff and was just curious about it."

I looked at Will, wondering how he would respond to this apparent slight. His jaw didn't quite drop, but his mouth hung open for what seemed like an eternity before he was able to reply. "Well, I'm sorry if we've wasted your time, Mr. Phillips. We'll be on our way."

Phillips didn't even make an effort to smooth things over. He stood up, shook Will's hand, shook my hand, and said blankly, "Thanks for stopping by."

Will looked more dejected than I had ever seen him, but he still managed to keep his chin up. "Well, on to the next one, eh?" he said cheerfully, looking away from me.

I haven't been to a Michael Phillips film since.