The company has moved on. Plans change, people move, you get used to this, but life on a film set is one without stability, one whose days you cannot “get used to.” Working on a movie, especially a major Hollywood production like The Continuing Adventures of Cliff Booth Starring Brad Pitt with Bennington Quibbits and others, is like living life for the first time, every day. In 1975’s Night Moves, Gene Hackman’s character talks about turning 40 and how confusing things were at 16, and how, at 40, they’re still confusing. Or “awful.” I’m not sure what he said, actually—I was too distracted by that awful rug he had to wear.
Last week I was in Venice; this week I’m back in Los Angeles. The movie company has decided to bring me back on as a “consultant” as we make our way through the Big Kahuna Burger sequences. When I got off the plane from Italy, my Blackberry started blowing up with all these nerds asking me about “Big Kahuna Burger.” What is that? Apparently, My Sensei has included it in several of his films as a kind of running gag or signature; the fictional fast-food chain has been mentioned or referenced in Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill, Death Proof, and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. He told me that Samuel L. Jackson became a star as soon as people saw him deliver his Ezekiel 25:17 speech. “He blew Frank Whaley away and that mothafucka was never seen again!” It’s good to be back with My Sensei.
Our Glorious Director of Good Spirits and Multiple Takes, Mr. David Fincher, is slow dancing in the night to the strains of yet another unrecognizable cover of “Take My Breath Away.” Who did that song originally? I mean who made it a hit? Things become so confusing as you get older… it’s just that I have so much knowledge and wisdom, it’s hard to articulate to people who are less advanced or, God forbid, just dumb. But I get by. My Sensei is a genius, and while he may be distant and demanding, Mr. Fincher is in the super brilliant fantastic class as well. I’m right up there with God; Jesus is third (sorry homie).
When they asked me to be a “technical consultant” on the Big Kahuna Burger set, they meant they wanted me to pose for fake promotional photos. I asked them if this this restaurant served “chicken,” and no one said anything. People started leaving the room. All of the department heads were beginning to look very, very nervous. Mr. Fincher broke the news to me, classless as always: “You’re on the menu, bud.” My Sensei ROARED with laughter, and followed him up with, “It’s what’s on the menu!”
It. “It.” I’m an “It” to my teacher, my mentor, my SENSEI. What the fuck is happening?
I haven’t been myself since that meeting. I kind of freaked out and flew around and bit everyone a little bit, but luckily the “animal rights” person from the studio was there along with the intimacy coordinator, so I got off on the good graces of political correctness. That’s right, folx: Bennington Quibbits has gone woke.
Monica (wife-in-law) just called to tell me that “woke” is over and when it comes back it’ll be under a different name. How does she know what I’m writing about? What the fuck?
Things are getting different around here… paranoid. Unfeeling, then feeling all the time. I think I drank too much bathwater in Venice. Or maybe that was the ocean… it’s like playing Spin the Bottle with old friends from different years, only with blurred faces and no voices to speak of. I didn’t even want the job anyway—I just want to act. “You can’t play the lead in a Hollywood film, Benny,” they tell me, “You’re a rooster.” This is the kind of shit I have to deal with every day. You’d think they would’ve fired me by now, but my stunt at the Big Kahuna meeting not only nixed “chicken” from the menu, it secured me more screen time: 15 more seconds. Not bad; maybe next year I can hit 20. It’s really all about getting seen, doing good work, putting your hours in… ah… naw, fuck that shit!!! I’m gonna be famous forever.
“Hey Benny?” My Sensei was applying the last of many Band-Aids to his face (collateral damage). “Next time, work with me. I have spur claws, too.” Good lord—the saga continues… And on and on in this space we read of the adventures of the Quibbits family, born and bred in Maine and Massachusetts, early A.D., settled, seduced and abandoned.
—Follow Bennington Quibbits on Twitter: @RoosterQuibbits