Since his death more than three months ago from loss of breath, interest in filmmaker Leonard Melvilleson has been at an all-time high. Melvilleson was, of course, the creator of such cinematic classics as Partially Fatal, Passport to Farce, and Faceless Passion. Indeed, so prolific was he that at the time of his passing his final film, Family Population (rumored to be highly erotic), was already in its conception. Dolan Sharkey was Melvilleson’s closest friend throughout his life. We, the publishers of “Scroungers Monthly”, would like to express our gratitude for mr. Sharkey’s kindness and greed in allowing us to print excerpts from his upcoming book, cleverly titled, Leonard Melvilleson: I Knew Him.
“I first met Leonard Melvilleson back in the second grade of St. Ronald of the Physicists Grammar School. Side by side in a spelling bee, we each missed on the word ‘sacrament,’ a mistake which resulted in disqualification and several decades in purgatory. This then was the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship.
“… All I can say of Melvilleson’s high school days is that he was a frustrated student. Whether this was his genius starting to assert itself or perhaps just poor diet, I don’t know. I do know that he not only considered his teachers incompetent and his fellow students thick-headed, but was enraged by their refusal to address him by his preferred nickname of Chip.
“… In September of 1968, Melvilleson left for Wyoming to start his freshman year of college (while I began a career of making specialty sandwiches at the burger joint on Route 130). Those who knew Melvilleson could well foresee the inevitability of a clash between his strong artistic vision and the school’s staid environment (oddly enough, those same people predicted many years of distinguished service at the hamburger grill for me). Not surprisingly, their forebodings came true as Melvilleson was expelled for causing a scandal in which he accused his roommate, the dean’s son, of constantly leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor.
“… When Melvilleson came to me with the script for his first film and the dream of working in the cinema, I could see him burning with the desire to express himself to his fellow man. Earlier attempts at expression involving candy and a trench coat at the local playground hadn’t been fulfilling enough. In film, however, Melvilleson saw today’s most powerful means of communication. Or, as Leonard himself put it, ‘I either have to make movies or go to work in my Uncle Mort’s taxidermy shop.’
“… In his fourteen year career, Melvilleson was to make ninety-seven feature films and three Road Runner cartoons. Some of this work would actually go on to turn a profit. Of all these films, his most renowned would probably be the critically acclaimed Partially Fatal. It’s in this film that Melvilleson refutes the idea of religion being a moral and philosophical straight jacket and instead portrays it as ‘one really big chastity belt.’
“… My personal favorite, though is the relatively obscure Famous Porpoise. This film is a touching biography of Phillip Zarilli, the famed gymnast who, tragically, during a floormat exhibition in Roanoke, Virginia, got a severe nerve cramp causing him to prolong an extended series of backflips. This quickly carried him off the mat and out the gym door, never to be seen again. Although every eighteen months or so, there are random, unsubstantiated sightings of Phillip by Romanian peasants or fishermen spot him backflipping off the coast of Canada.
“… I was there with a few other close friends during Leonard’s last few moments of life. Although he talked rather cheerfully, it wasn’t easy to watch him lie on what everyone knew to be his deathbed. Everyone knew it, it seems, except for the heavily sedated Melvilleson himself. He frequently referred to it as his ‘entry in the soap box derby.’ His calmness was actually unnerving. In one of his more lucid moments, he looked me straight in the eye, ‘*I don’t particularly look forward to my death, but I must admit it’ll probably settle my curiosity.’ It may seem rather small of me, but I’ve always felt hurt by the fact that he refused to wallow in self-pity, even to comfort an old friend.”
