He drummed his fingers on the seat. The cabdriver turned his radio up. A toxic smell from New Jersey wafted in one window, mixed with the air freshener on the dashboard, and blew out the other side. It was a bright morning with a wind that came in startling chilly puffs. No rain was imminent. Somewhere across town, a
Yo! MTV Raps
production assistant was noting with relief that the day’s taping could take place outside, as planned. “It’s funny, me and Jonathan were No. 1 and No. 2 for a while,” Freddy went on. “What I mean is that Jonathan’s film
Lambs
is out now, and so is the movie I’d been working on as associate producer,
New Jack City,
and we were No. 1 and No. 2 box office in
Variety
for weeks. We’d still be No. 1 and No. 2, except that the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie is out and it bumped us. I’m not dissing it, but it does hurt to be bumped by turtles.”
Demme’s office is a narrow, cluttered loft on the eighth floor of a building on lower Broadway. It is filled with mismatched chairs and desks, and has the economical look of a student newspaper office, except that hanging on the walls are a huge
Silence of the Lambs
poster and a photograph of a theater marquee announcing a double feature of that film and another Demme production,
Miami Blues.
When we arrived, the meeting was already in progress. The Demmes, KRS-One and his associates, and various technical advisers had pulled their chairs into a circle in the middle of the loft and were discussing the logistical challenges of shooting a video in Harlem with four directors, countless interested onlookers, and a three-thousand-dollar-a-day Steadicam. The conversation stopped when we walked in.
“Fab,” Ted Demme said, in greeting.
“Yo,” Freddy said.
“Fred,” KRS-One said.
“Yo, man,” Freddy said. Freddy and KRS have some history. The first video Freddy ever directed was “My Philosophy,” a hit for KRS-One and Boogie Down Productions in 1988. When Freddy introduces the video on
Yo! MTV Raps,
he invariably says, with no trace of bashfulness, “Yo, now here’s a great video, one of my
favorites.
” When Freddy refers to KRS in conversation, he quite often identifies him as “the heart and soul and conscience and brains and philosophy of rap” and sometimes adds that he is “my main man.”
“We’ll catch you up,” Ted said. “KRS was just talking about his project to advance human consciousness.”
“Excellent,” Freddy said. He nodded to KRS and sat down, reached for a pen, and nodded genially at the others in the room.
Everyone turned back to the business at hand. I had never previously seen Freddy in any situation where he wasn’t the principal object of attention. In this circle, he seemed uncharacteristically unanimated. KRS, a bulky, soft-faced man with a rolling bass voice and a soothing, professorial manner, did most of the talking, describing a plan to distribute 4 million copies of a book he had written challenging the basic assumptions of Western education. “I’m going to drop the book onto the school system,” KRS said. “Our goal is to get people thinking. For instance, we put out the statement ‘Aristotle was a thief.’ The first reaction will be ‘What are you talking about?’ The next is that it will start people thinking.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking,” Ted Demme responded. “I’m thinking that when kids hear that there are ten major rappers in the neighborhood they’re going to go crazy.”
A discussion of laminated security passes followed. It was close to noon. Jonathan Demme stood up, excused himself to go to another meeting, and headed for the door. Then Ted Demme stood up, thanked everyone, and said that he and Freddy had to leave for the
Yo!
taping, and that he was available to meet again as the plans proceeded. He then shot Freddy an urgent look.
Freddy stood up and strolled over to the
Silence of the Lambs
poster and paused in front of it. The
Yo! MTV Raps
production assistant was noting with relief that the day’s taping could take place outside, as planned. “It’s funny, me and Jonathan were No. 1 and No. 2 for a while,” Freddy went on. “What I mean is that Jonathan’s film
Lambs
is out now, and so is the movie I’d been working on as associate producer,
New Jack City,
and we were No. 1 and No. 2 box office in
Variety
for weeks. We’d still be No. 1 and No. 2, except that the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie is out and it bumped us. I’m not dissing it, but it does hurt to be bumped by turtles.”
Demme’s office is a narrow, cluttered loft on the eighth floor of a building on lower Broadway. It is filled with mismatched chairs and desks, and has the economical look of a student newspaper office, except that hanging on the walls are a huge
Silence of the Lambs
poster and a photograph of a theater marquee announcing a double feature of that film and another Demme production,
Miami Blues.
When we arrived, the meeting was already in progress. The Demmes, KRS-One and his associates, and various technical advisers had pulled their chairs into a circle in the middle of the loft and were discussing the logistical challenges of shooting a video in Harlem with four directors, countless interested onlookers, and a three-thousand-dollar-a-day Steadicam. The conversation stopped when we walked in.
“Fab,” Ted Demme said, in greeting.
“Yo,” Freddy said.
“Fred,” KRS-One said.
“Yo, man,” Freddy said. Freddy and KRS have some history. The first video Freddy ever directed was “My Philosophy,” a hit for KRS-One and Boogie Down Productions in 1988. When Freddy introduces the video on
Yo! MTV Raps,
he invariably says, with no trace of bashfulness, “Yo, now here’s a great video, one of my
favorites.
” When Freddy refers to KRS in conversation, he quite often identifies him as “the heart and soul and conscience and brains and philosophy of rap” and sometimes adds that he is “my main man.”
“We’ll catch you up,” Ted said. “KRS was just talking about his project to advance human consciousness.”
“Excellent,” Freddy said. He nodded to KRS and sat down, reached for a pen, and nodded genially at the others in the room.
Everyone turned back to the business at hand. I had never previously seen Freddy in any situation where he wasn’t the principal object of attention. In this circle, he seemed uncharacteristically unanimated. KRS, a bulky, soft-faced man with a rolling bass voice and a soothing, professorial manner, did most of the talking, describing a plan to distribute 4 million copies of a book he had written challenging the basic assumptions of Western education. “I’m going to drop the book onto the school system,” KRS said. “Our goal is to get people thinking. For instance, we put out the statement ‘Aristotle was a thief.’ The first reaction will be ‘What are you talking about?’ The next is that it will start people thinking.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking,” Ted Demme responded. “I’m thinking that when kids hear that there are ten major rappers in the neighborhood they’re going to go crazy.”
A discussion of laminated security passes followed. It was close to noon. Jonathan Demme stood up, excused himself to go to another meeting, and headed for the door. Then Ted Demme stood up, thanked everyone, and said that he and Freddy had to leave for the
Yo!
taping, and that he was available to meet again as the plans proceeded. He then shot Freddy an urgent look.
Freddy stood up and strolled over to the
Silence of the Lambs
poster and paused in front of it. The
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