In the late sixties, Robert Brustein brought Michael Roemer and me to the Yale drama school. We had just made "Nothing but a Man," and Brustein wanted to bring aspiring playwrights and writers into contact with people who had actually written a screenplay and made a movie. Eddie Pomerantz was one of the students in our class on a fellowship. We became friends and he gave me the galleys to his novel Into It, which I thought was fascinating. So Mike Hausman, who worked with me then and is part of the production team of "Caught," and I, optioned the book. I remember, we took out an ad in the New York Times "Soon to be a Major Motion Picture." That was 23 years ago. I laugh now at how naive we were...and probably still are.
I found the story exciting and original. Our need to love and be loved is where we are most vulnerable and human, so when an outsider displaces a husband and then a son in a mother-father-son relationship, you have primal fireworks. The characters in "Caught" get trapped by their conflicting feelings -- sexual desire, loyalty and jealousy. I wanted to take the audience into these conflicting, elemental emotions and identify with the humanness of each of the characters...and have the audience see themselves.
I hadn't thought about the story for five or six years and had given up on it, when Eddie urged me to read it again...and at last I saw it with new eyes and said some things that got him very excited. So he came to California, and in about three days time we had the new structure. When he finished writing it, we felt we had it, but no one else seemed to agree. The studio people we went to said it was too dark or too this or too that. Maybe, if we made it more like "The Hand That Rocked the Cradle," they might be interested. Well, we believed in our story...it was the story we wanted to tell. So, last year at Christmas time, I made the decision that somehow we were going to make it...no matter what. Otherwise we'd be left with other people's judgments about something we believed in. We didn't have any money or any reasons to think we could pull this off other than a desperate determination. This was the way Mike Roemer and I made "Nothing But a Man." We just decided to do it and that led to it getting done. So, we would do the same thing again. And again I went to my brother Irwin for his help. Irwin brought in his good friends Ted and Jim Pedas, who said that they would match whatever Irwin did. So we had a start. We also had my good friend Eddie Olmos who we wanted for the part of Joe. But we needed the right woman...and we couldn't figure out who we could get for the part. And then my wife Lili said, "How about Maria Conchita?" I was stunned and slapped my forehead, "My God, of course, Maria...she's perfect. I'd worked with her on the movie 'Roosters.' How come I didn't think of her?" It's probably because my wife is a lot smarter than I am. Anyway, I got the script to Maria and she loved it. Her enthusiasm meant a lot: now I was sure we would get the movie made. And many friends joined in, Mike Barrow our cinematographer, with whom I'd worked in the past, told me he would do it even if we couldn't pay him. Norman Buckley our editor said the same thing. Hilary Rosenfeld, who had done costume design on seven or eight of my movies said she'd love the chance to also do the production design. I said "You've got the job!" Kimberly Davis, our casting director, had never had the chance to cast principals. These are terrific people who just needed a chance for their creativity to explode. So I had a great group of very talented people who wanted to make this movie, even though we would have to tighten our belts to do it. And that was made possible by Richard Brick, who brilliantly led us through the production, and my brother Irwin who saw us through the post-production. If you are passionate about something, there are people who will join you and make it their journey, too.
Yes, it may not even be fashionable, but to me, I believe that the camera is supposed to be where the story is. Then you have to ask yourself the question, "Where is the story?" Moment by moment in the making of "Caught," I put the camera where I thought the story was, and I tried to do that as best I could. I'm after a simplicity, which if achieved, has an elegance to it. I'm not the one to say that we've achieved it, but that's what I'm trying to do. It is a straightforward kind of storytelling, but there is a complexity in the layers and in what I call the negative space. I try to never indicate, but position the audience inside the situations so that they are experienced. I also try to give each character their psychological space, without making any kind of rationalization for their behavior. I want to give them the room to have freedom of action. I don't want to be making apologies for Nick or Danny or Betty or Joe. But I do bring the camera into their psychological space so that you can understand Betty and her needs, and you can understand Danny's feelings of displacement and his craziness. I try not to skew the story into a special point of view where someone is made into a bad guy. That just isn't interesting or deep.
Well, I thought of Eddie right away because he's a great actor, and I was sure he would make a great Joe. Also, I knew I could get him because he's such a good friend. When the story was originally written, it was about Anglos and took place in Washington Heights, New York, where Eddie Pomerantz grew up. But the neighborhood has become Hispanic, and we thought it would be interesting to bring the story up to date, so that it would reflect present day America. We also like the idea of casting in a more color blind way. "Caught" is not an Hispanic movie. Eddie and Maria are "typical" Americans.
Our casting director, Kimberly Davis, put up notices in many different places, including Actors Studio. Then Arie came in, having responded to the notice, and I thought that he was a young member of the studio. And he was so good that it was a natural assumption. It turned out that he was not a member of the Studio, but was working there doing all sorts of odd jobs. Once I worked with him, I couldn't imagine anyone else doing the role. He was so original, so amazing. I never even asked him if he had done anything else. I felt I didn't have to know. The character was in front of me, so what further verification did I need. I also didn't want to know his age. What if he were younger or older than he seemed, maybe our judgements would be affected. He was just right. You could see that he was very talented. His actions were so deeply centered and different from what you might expect. I was very excited, as was everyone else and felt that we had found a major talent. When we gave Arie the part, he moved into my apartment for the making of the film.
The first time I cooked a meal and put it on the table, we both broke out laughing, because it was just like the dinner scene in the movie when Nick first eats with Betty and Joe. I also told him that my wife was coming the following weekend and that he had better watch his step. Unlike Joe, I knew the story and would be on the lookout. Needless to say, we had some good laughs. Sometimes, when we would get back from work he'd say, "Bob, tell me the story." He's like one of my kids, and I would start at the beginning -- always the beginning -- about this guy named Nick, this drifter who lived by the harbor in an old van, and I'd bring the story up to where we were and then I'd stop. I'm very grateful to Arie and the actors in "Caught." It was their sensitivities that led me in what we did.
Steve was working as a doorman at the Four Seasons Hotel when he came in for his interview with Kimberly Davis. He had been sent by his agent for the role of Nick, but Kimberly told him to come back and read for the part of Danny. And she was right. When Steve came back he was dressed like a comic, full of funny routines. He was wonderful, but at the same time hiding behind some of the comic material he'd made up. You could see that he was an extremely talented and interesting actor. But what was behind the schtick? Well, fortunately, we got to know him and found that he is not only a gifted actor, but a deeply sensitive one.
Well, that's one of the things I insisted on. We had very little rehearsal time and I felt it was important to give the actors a chance to grow with their characters in the early scenes. For example, it was important for Maria and Eddie to actually handle fish in the store before they talked about it.
Production people are usually resistant to leaving a location before you finish shooting all your scenes there, because it is seen as inefficient. However, that is not necessarily so. Our shooting sequentially turned out to be very efficient because we took some scenes farther than they had been written. And then we saw that some scenes were no longer necessary and could be eliminated. Shooting sequentially led to our discovering that some scenes which we had loved in the script were no longer right for the story. By our growing with the story psychologically, we had a keener sense of how the story was developing and what notes had to be played. The whole final movement of the film was rewritten during the working. I think it turned out to be one of the smartest things we did.
You know, a lot of directing is a kind of process of osmosis. It's not like you're telling actors what to do, it's quite the opposite. You're encouraging them to explore the facts imaginatively, to allow themselves to be the character. When we do a scene, I don't want the actor to have made decisions about what he or she is going to do. I want it played like life, where you don't know what the hell is going to happen or be said next. I want them completely in the moment.
I think the important thing about any sex scene is its psychological and emotional honesty. Sexual scenes are difficult, because they are emotionally dangerous for the actors. I think there is a lot of risk taking in love scenes. However, it's not about showing flesh, but it is about the honesty and power of the passion. These scenes are crucial to the film; without the power and honesty of Betty's passion for Nick, there would be no story and no movie.
I don't believe in being judgmental. I think our story is deeply moral, but not moralistic. I tried to take you into Betty and Nick's psychological space, so that you would understand them. This doesn't mean that you have to approve of what they do, but you do understand. I also wanted to say in the story that whatever we do has consequences, and they may be dangerous. I believe that in storytelling you want to explore these ideas as far as you can, to extend our sensibilities.
I think we are all terrified of being displaced. Have you ever had someone you desire leave you for someone else? For Danny, it's even more primal. To have your own family, the bedrock of your being, prefer someone else, is a very scary, threatening thing. Danny knows that he's not the kind of man his father wanted for a son. And he is jealous of Nick, who he suspects of being his mother's lover. How natural for him to hate Nick, the "brother" who has stolen the love of both his mother and father.
Right, but I think it's implicit in all mother-son relationships. See Freud and think Oedipus. There are plenty of mothers and sons who are not even aware of the strong sexual undercurrent that's between them. I think this story is very well grounded in psychological truth.
All I can say is, thank God we weren't able to make it years ago. We wouldn't have done justice to the story. I can't imagine doing this movie without Eddie and Maria, and Arie, Steve and Bitty. I'm grateful that it happened the way it did, and we made the film we wanted to make.