On a recent Friday afternoon, David “the Rock” Nelson takes to the backyard of his parents’ house in DesPlaines, carrying a camcorder and a plastic bag containing a ripped flannel shirt, a six-inch plastic ant, rubber werewolf’s hands, and a werewolf mask. Nelson’s getting ready to shoot his latest movies–Devil Ant and Werewolf’s Revenge. Since I’m on hand he’s asked me to play a bit part. It’s difficult to say when they will be completed. Nelson has so many projects going on at once and he has little in the way of financial resources. He works about 20 hours a week as a telephone solicitor, raising money for the Illinois Association of Chiefs of Police.
“You know what I filmed here?” he asks. “Burning crab monsters. Real crabs. I put alcohol on ’em and burned ’em. They were sittin’ right on top of these rocks here. I filmed crab monsters getting burned, but I had the lens far enough away so the lens wouldn’t get burned. It’s gonna be in my movie Monster Invasion. Giant crabs. On those rocks. I had ’em burnin’. You see, there’s gonna be a scene where I throw a Molotov cocktail at ’em and go, ‘Fry, you stinkin’ crab monsters, fry,’ and then I’m gonna fry other monsters. I’m gonna show a close-up of these crabs. I’m pullin’ the invisible thread, making their arms go around, and–I did the sound effects–I’m goin’, “Awww! Awwwwwww!’ How do you like that? “Awwwww!’ Monster. And I got a picture of me doin’ it. There’s a photo of me, I have my mouth open. I’m goin’ like this with the alcohol and the crabs. Giant crabs gettin’ fried. But that’s gonna be in a couple of years, because I’m working on the other films, Vampire Woman, Devil Ant, and all.”
“So tell me, David, what does it take to be a great film director?” I ask.
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“Yes, and hard work, too. Initiative, hard work, not quittin’. Never give up, despite criticism. I get criticized all the time. But I didn’t listen to the critics. I just kept pumpin’ and crankin’ out those movies, man.” He gets out of the chair, whips off his jacket, and starts closing in on the camera, punching rapidly as he moves. A left hook, a right jab. “Hey, I’m a boxer and a marine! So don’t mess with me, man! Semper fi! Marine Corps! They better not mess with me! My critics better not mess with me, man, ’cause I’m gonna beat you up. Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh. Hmm, hmmm, hmm, hmmmm, heeeyah, huh, huh. Hmmm, yeah!”
Nelson’s movies do not conform to usual notions of plot, cinematography, dialogue, or continuity. They often seem as though they were hatched in the mind of a particularly hyperactive 12-year-old. Characters knocked down by monsters in one frame will be standing up in the next. Dialogue will refer to neighbors and friends of Nelson’s who are unknown to the rest of the audience. The sound tracks are choppy and tinny. Important battles will be announced, then never fought; if they are fought, they often prove to be unimportant. The camera is often out of focus, and scenes are sometimes off center. Most of the plots advance according to a peculiar kind of logic, informed by the movies Nelson’s seen, by his boxing career, by everything and everyone he’s ever encountered.
Cut to a phone ringing. It’s answered by Nelson, who this time is dressed as himself. “Hello, Detective Nelson’s office,” he says. “May I help you? You saw a mummy? Now settle down, settle down, ma’am. Are you sure you saw a mummy? You did see a mummy. An Egyptian prince? Thank you ma’am, I think I know who that is. Thank you very much.” The phone rings again. “What?” Nelson says. “You saw a guy wrapped up in bandages? An old guy? Sir, did it look like a mummy? It looks like it came from the Field Museum? I see. And what? You saw a man in a red hat? Looked like an Egyptian? Thank you sir. Thank you very much.” He hangs up the phone and says, “Now I know who it is. It’s gotta be my brother. I’m calling the chief.”
