Direct Your Own Damn Movie!

Chapter | four

Preproduction:

My Own Private Idaho

(and by Idaho, I, of

course, mean Hell)

It's 11 a.m. and I'm sitting in the new office that Michael Herz and I share in the Troma Building. Michael's wife Maris has insisted that, unlike our old building, this new Tromaville headquarters is going to actually look somewhat like an office, as opposed to a seedy den of sin or the bedroom of a sexually repressed teenage boy.¹ As such, she has had the interns spend two days scraping 30 years worth of stickers off the filing cabinets and has, so far, forbidden anyone to touch the freshly painted white walls, much less hang the Troma posters that covered the urine-soaked walls of the old building. In her quest for cleanliness, she has also, for some ...