In 1988, producer Colin Brunton and first-time director Bruce McDonald wrote a letter to the Ontario Film Development Corporation (OFDC) requesting funding for a “cool” project envisioned as Canada’s first feature-length rock film. “We will pull this off,” they promised, “for the amazing once-in-a-lifetime price of $198,924.70.”
They even vowed it would be finished in time for the Festival of Festivals (the precursor to the Toronto International Film Festival) in September, 1989.
The black-and-white indie project would turn out to be Roadkill, about a woman (played by Valerie Buhagiar) tasked to find a Toronto punk band that had gone missing in Northern Ontario. A defining film in the Toronto New Wave movement and the movie that launched the career of maverick filmmaker McDonald, Roadkill was a defiantly self-aware Canadian feature.
“We were trying to mythologize our own landscape and to turn it into something cinematic, which we’d see Americans do so many times,” screenwriter Don McKellar says.
Initially financed by modest federal and provincial arts council grants, McDonald and Brunton began shooting with a stripped-down crew, without knowing if the OFDC money would happen. “There’s something great about a nimble pirate ship,” McDonald says. “You’re able to get into more places, and you can do more things.”
The OFDC funding came through, and not only was the film invited to the Festival of Festivals, it was awarded best Canadian film honours. It was recently restored for a new Blu-ray release via Canadian International Pictures. On the occasion of the 35th anniversary of Roadkill’s world premiere screening at what is now TIFF, the film’s principals spoke to The Globe and Mail about the making of a rock ‘n’ road classic.
Roadkill was originally envisioned as a documentary, titled All the Children Are In, that followed the Toronto punk band A Neon Rome on tour. Plans fell through dramatically.
Bruce McDonald: We had spent some time shooting the band. We had tons of Super 8 footage and interviews. We had the idea of taking them on the road in Northern Ontario, and it was all proceeding quite well until I discovered that the band’s lead singer, Neal Arbic, had taken a vow of silence. We thought, ‘Okay, that’s a curveball.’
John Borra, bassist with A Neon Rome: The band imploded. Our singer was on a spiritual quest – his priorities had changed. We had recorded our second album, titled All the Children Are In. But we broke up and the album was never released.
Before the making of Roadkill, McKellar had already written a script for McDonald and Brunton for a different project, the feature film Highway 61 (eventually released in 1991, with many of the same actors). Roadkill, which was intended to be a warm-up for Highway 61, evolved from a rockumentary into a feature.
McKellar: Bruce would occasionally talk to me how the documentary was doing, which was not well. He asked me to contribute some fictionalized elements to give it some structure. I’d meet him again, and he’d tell me to write more. Finally he told me to write a feature script because he couldn’t work with the band any more. I wrote it in a week.
Brunton: Don would fax scripts to us. We’d read these curly fax pages, and one page came in that mentioned running over some roadkill. I thought, ‘Man, that would be a great title.’ Everyone agreed, and All the Children Are In became Roadkill.
Because of the tight budget, everyone took on multiple jobs.
McKellar: I had a role in the film as the aspiring serial killer and I was also hired as the script co-ordinator. I rarely tell anybody, because the film’s continuity is not something to brag about.
Buhagiar: We were sleeping in the back of cars and eating grilled cheese sandwiches. I took care of makeup, which consisted of eyeliner and a powder puff. Joey Ramone would show up in leather gear and I would powder his face. It was a lot of fun.
Ramone, lead singer of the New York punk rock icons the Ramones, was recruited as the film’s star power.
McDonald: We knew we couldn’t get a star actor, so we turned to the music world. Colin and I both loved the Ramones, but it was a random and reckless idea to fax the band’s management. One day, though, the phone rang and it was Joey saying he’d like to be in Roadkill. You couldn’t have asked for a sweeter guy. Colin paid him a first class flight to Toronto, all the hamburgers he could eat and $500.
Brunton: I was just reconnecting to the woman who is now my wife, Joanie Noordover, who played Joey Ramone’s girlfriend in the film. I always tell people that if you want to get into your girlfriend’s good books, cast her as her favourite rock star’s girlfriend in a feature film.
During filming, the OFDC funding came through, in part because of a Canadian filmmaking giant’s help.
McDonald: It took a champion on our side, and that was Norman Jewison. Otherwise we never would have gotten a nickel from OFDC. I had been his driver on Agnes of God. I put his name as a reference on the application, never thinking in a million years that they would phone him to check me out. I don’t think they were tremendously excited about investing in our first-time team. But Norm gave us a glowing recommendation.
Roadkill made its world premiere for the Festival of Festivals at the now-demolished Uptown Theatre, a Toronto cinema that did not impress another legendary Canadian director.
McKellar: David Cronenberg was on the festival’s jury. I was actually working for the festival as a theatre co-ordinator at the Uptown, and he yelled at me because it was in such shabby shape. There were raccoons in the house, and cocaine was being dealt out of the concession stand. On the last Friday of the festival, I took off my festival staff lanyard and put on a guest lanyard because Roadkill was screened there. The next day, we won best Canadian film.
McDonald: Winning the award was a shock-o-rama. I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m glad it did. Suddenly our next film, Highway 61, became very possible. If it wasn’t for Colin, Roadkill probably never would have happened. Don and I didn’t have much experience, but Colin did. We brought the juice, and Colin brought the how-to.
Brunton: Accepting the award, Bruce made a terrific speech. Someone asked him what he was going to do with the prize money, and he said he would use it for a big chunk of hash and a ‘57 Chevy. He did in fact get both. I know he bought some very potent black Nepalese hash. I can still picture it.