WHAT’S GREAT ABOUT BAD SANTA IS THAT IT HAD AN INDEPENDENT film feel as well as a commercial movie feel about it. I think the independent feel it had was a tribute to Terry Zwigoff, who is a great independent filmmaker. But just by nature the movie had a commercial appeal. It also had the late, great John Ritter, who did an amazing job, not to mention Brett Kelly—the kid—Lauren Graham, Bernie Mac, Tony Cox, all the other great characters and terrific people.
When Geyer Kosinski, my manager, first sent me the Bad Santa script, I thought, Wow, this is either going to ruin me or it’s going to be amazing. I’d read about a third of it, then I called him and said, “I have to do this movie.” I laughed on every page, it was hysterical. It was the most well-reviewed comedy of that year and made a shitload of money. It’s been a very successful movie over the years. Every holiday a lot of people include it on their list for watching. I have people say, “Every year we watch It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, and Bad Santa.” It’s an odd pairing, but I guess some people were tired of the commercialism of Christmas.
There was a lot of carousing going on during that period of time. At the time I was living with my buddy Harve Cook, my video playback guy and one of the producers on this Willie Nelson documentary we did. Harve is a black guy with long dreadlocks from Minneapolis, but his family is from Pine Bluff, Arkansas, and we had a two-year Lost Weekend here at the house. I was single. It was after Angie and I had split up. We’d have thirty, forty, fifty of the cast and crew here on school nights, when we had to be at work at seven in the morning. It was probably the craziest time I ever had. It’s also when I met Connie. Her sister Carrie was the makeup artist on the movie, and Connie came to visit her. A couple years later, Connie got pregnant with Bella, so funny enough, I always think how Bella really came about because of my meeting Connie on the set of Bad Santa. Today Connie, Bella, and Willie and Harry, my sons, are the center of my universe.
But the truth is, comedy sets are not always fun, happy places. Bad Santa was actually kind of a dark set a lot of the time, but I think a lot of the humor actually came out of that. I loved playing the character, and we’re talking about doing a sequel. People say, “Ah, sequels are always bad,” but they’re not always. It depends on how you approach a sequel. The best thing about Bad Santa is it was a movie that didn’t follow any rules. Certain people said that we’d ruined the name of Jesus and Santa Claus. Well, first of all, I’ve read the Bible, and I promise you that it doesn’t mention Santa Claus anywhere, so you’re getting your stories mixed up. Santa Claus has nothing to do with Jesus other than for some reason they made some arbitrary birthday for Jesus and tied Santa Claus into it. Second thing is, Bad Santa is not about Santa Claus or Jesus. I play a thief who dresses up like Santa Claus in order to get jewels and shit. If I dressed up like Richard Nixon, would they have been offended? I don’t understand it. A thief will dress up like whatever he’s got to dress up like. I like Bad Santa not just because it’s irreverent, but because, in darkly comedic fashion, we both made a statement about the commercialism of Christmas and showed that even the lowest shit on earth can actually have a heart when he sees himself in a kid. It’s like, “Wow, I was one of those things one time, wasn’t I?”
We want to do a sequel because it’s a holiday movie, I enjoyed doing the first one, and people found it to be a good alternative to a corny Christmas movie. Why not do it again? Like I said, I’m not against movies for entertainment’s sake—not every movie needs to be earth-shattering. I was a big fan of The Ghost and Mr. Chicken with Don Knotts, so clearly I don’t mind being entertained. My point is that even if you’re going to make entertainment films, make good ones. You can make a $100 million movie that’s good and you can make a $1 million movie that’s good. Bad Santa was successful, so as long as we’re all inspired, why not get the team back together to do it again?
Plus, people like to see me play a cynical fuck. I’ve had eight-year-olds come up to me and say, “Bad Santa!” and I’m like, “God, you let your kid watch that?”
I asked my wife the other night to give me her commentary on Billy Bob. She reflected for just a brief moment and then said with quiet conviction that he is very intuitive with actors when he deals with them and he does so in a very offhand way, obviously with great understanding. I find my wife to be extremely smart about such things. What she said struck a corresponding conclusion within me.
Although he is quite disciplined in his framing of scenes, he still—as I saw it—works in flashes, extremely personal flashes. Other directors work this way I’m sure, but I haven’t always been aware. His flashes are unique to him and right on the money.
We are all one of a kind, but Billy seems to be one of a kind and more.
The common denominator of truth is pretty much in evidence in his work—throughout!
He asks for no rehearsals. He says rehearsals are for “pussies.” If he then goes beyond two takes, it is indeed unusual. So in a sense he ends up shooting the rehearsal anyway.
He tries to stay away from preconceptions as much as possible. I feel it’s better to come in and start from zero and then see where it goes from there. I think Billy would agree with this.
As a fine actor himself, I’m sure he ducks when he sees the milkman coming. So many directors will milk the crap out of a scene until there is nothing left. They continue to overlook what they are looking for, and after forty or fifty takes, it’s a bit of a joke! Boys like Kubrick made outstanding movies but often had one or two performances that pretty much sucked! Too many takes.
Not so with directors like Coppola, Altman, or Billy Bob.
Actors will say, what is it like to work with this director or that one? The one conclusion that keeps being repeated is that the preferred directors are the ones that “leave you alone.”
When decent, intelligent direction is given, you listen. He gave me a brilliant piece of direction toward the end of Jayne Mansfield’s Car. It came out of nowhere, but it was spot-on!
Billy’s set at times is like adult day camp. Fun and games in and around the set is his approach. One time he stopped shooting and said something to the effect of, “Come on, guys, we’re getting too serious here. Filming should be fun, and we are here to do that.” He seems extremely relaxed as a director even in the most serious situations, and believe me, that attitude permeates the entire set!
Billy is a triple threat—writing, acting, directing—I don’t know what kind of training he ever had, nor do I care. He has a deep cultural understanding of who he is and what he comes from—language!—and he understands the journey from ink to behavior about as good as anybody.
Maybe he just looked in the mirror one day and said, “Hey, Billy, let’s just go and do it.” Let’s get out of here before the milkman comes!!!