Lots of stories to tell regarding the journey that led to LADY IN WHITE.
A few months back, Chris Costello (youngest daughter of Lou Costello) asked me if I would contribute an essay to The Abbott & Costello Newsletter. Here's what I wrote:
"I believe my love for movies and my career in filmmaking had its roots with Abbott and Costello.
At the age of six, my father gifted me a Castle Films condensed version of their "Ride 'Em Cowboy" titled "No Indians, Please!" He taught me how to thread-up and operate the 8mm projector that we used to show our family home films, and I screened the hell out of that little film. When I managed to earn enough money from my paper route, my weekly published neighborhood newspaper, and plays that I would write and perform with my buddies on the front lawn of the factory that was adjacent to my father's welding shop in Rochester, New York, I would rush to buy all of the additionally available Abbott and Costello Castle releases, along with the Universal Classic Monster releases
.
It's not difficult for me to understand why I loved Bud and Lou so much. My growing up was firmly integrated in the Italian immigrant experience. My grandparents on my father's side, came to America with my six-month-old father in their arms from Sicily in 1920. Growing up, I was surrounded by other immigrant families who spoke in broken English (if any English at all). Each one of them struggling and often perplexed with the meanings of certain phrases and colloquialisms and often botching them, hilariously. Lou's character often confused the meanings of words and phrases in the same manner. I'm sure he also experienced growing up with his "old world" family members and friends. In fact, my Sicilian grandparents were portrayed in "Lady in White."
In September of 1974, at twenty years of age, I arrived in Los Angeles. Like so many intrepid, young hopefuls, I had arrived and hoped to one day write and direct movies. I'd already made three! Short films shot in 8mm and 16mm when I was in my teens. I had also found early success as a young actor, performing in high school and college productions. After being cast in three television pilots as an actor from 1975 through 1978, I managed to independently finance my first feature film as writer, producer, director, called Fear No Evil (1981).In 1988, I followed with my second feature film, and the one that I would become best known for, Lady in White, starring Lukas Haas, Len Cariou, Alex Rocco, and Katherine Helmond.
Watching Bud and Lou has always been a panacea for what ails me. In 2000, a botched gall bladder surgery catapulted me into a twenty-one day coma. Lungs collapsed, kidneys failed, and it looked like I was on my way to Join Lou. After barely coming out of it, my significant other, Eric, brought a VHS deck into my hospital room, hooked it up to the TV that was suspended on a wall, and ran my favorite Bud and Lou films. This aided me with my recovery. By then, I knew of Lou's personal tragedies well and apart from the healing power that he and Bud provided me through their mastery in the art of making people laugh. There was a human element, always there beneath their performances. Lou Costello, in no small measure, saved my life. But first ... he broke my heart.
The memory of that occurrence is indelible to me. I was five or six at the time. My dad was tucking me into bed and I was not ready to go to sleep. I was giddily and joyfully telling him about having watched an Abbott and Costello film on TV that day, acting out one bit, followed by another. His look turned serious. He took my hand in his and ever so gently said, "Babe" (that was my nickname), "Lou Costello isn't with us anymore. He died." I cried myself to sleep that night and continued to cry myself to sleep for many nights thereafter.
I'm still crying to this day.
AN ELEPHANT NEVER FORGETS: THE HEALING POWER OF LAUGHTER
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