The Day I Was Fired by Chevy Chase

Film Poster for Memoirs of an Invisible Man.

In 1991, I worked on the movie Memoirs of an Invisible Man. I was a lowly production assistant accruing hours toward a career as an Assistant Director. The film was a high-concept caper starring Chevy Chase and Daryl Hannah, directed by John Carpenter. It was based on a popular novel about a stockbroker who becomes invisible after a freak accident. The project was a risky endeavor for Chase who was trying to make the shift from comedy to more serious roles.

Much of the film was shot in San Francisco. My job was to implement crowd control as determined by the First Assistant Director. One week into production the schedule called for a chaotic day of shooting at Huntington Park across the street from the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The location was a hub of tourist traffic including the busiest cable car route in the city. This meant hordes of tourists or “roaches” as the First AD liked to call them.

The primary scene that day involved Chase crossing a busy street and walking through a small park. He wore a blue jumpsuit allowing the special effects house Industrial Light & Magic to implement an invisibility illusion. (These were the days of “blue screen” instead of “green screen.”) He also wore blue contact lenses so his eyes appeared invisible as if he had empty eye sockets. Chase’s eyes had to be numbed with sedatives prior to applying the contacts. This made him cranky and led to expensive production delays as Chase refused to leave his trailer.

In the early 90s, Chase was one of the biggest movie stars in the world and tourists clamored for his autograph. The First AD was concerned about his safety. He called upon me to do the dirty work. “The roaches are going to try to get close and sweaty with Chevy. I need you squash them. If a bogey comes close, do what you have to do to get Chevy to set. I don’t want anyone bothering him. Understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

By 10:00 am, hundreds of tourists surrounded the location craning their necks for a view. They all asked the same questions. “What movie is this?” “Gandhi II,” I told them. “Who’s in the film?” “John Belushi,” I answered. (He’d been dead for 10 years.)

At 10:30, my walkie-talkie crackled to life. “We need Chevy,” the First AD yelled.

I walked toward Chase’s eighty-foot motor home taking up most of a nearby street. I felt a sense of trepidation given my previous interactions with the actor. The first time I met him I introduced myself and he said, “You know you’re not supposed to talk to me, right?”

Crew members shared stories about Chase’s rudeness. Ivan Reitman was originally slated to direct the film but had ongoing arguments with Chase. He asked the studio to replace the actor but they fired Reitman instead. The new director John Carpenter had his own difficulties with Chase. Years later he told an interviewer that Chase was “a director’s worst nightmare…I wanted to quit the business after working with him…That was my worst film experience.”

As I approached Chase’s trailer, I heard him pounding on a synthesizer. He played music between setups to help him relax. The tunes were cool-jazz stylings with repetitive drum loops and high-register keyboard notes like a teenage girl’s ring tone. I knocked on the motor home door.

“Mr. Chase, they’re ready for you on set.”

The music stopped. Heavy footsteps plodded toward the door. Chase appeared in his bright blue jumpsuit. Tourists immediately yelled his name. We crossed the street toward the park. A young woman approached with an autograph book. I stepped between her and Chase. A middle-aged tourist darted forward with a camera in hand. I pushed him away. We reached the edge of the park and walked toward set. As we were about ten feet from the main camera a man in a suit with a legal pad and pen appeared from behind a tree. He stepped toward Chase.

Without thinking, I jumped toward the man and embraced him in a bear hug. We both lost our footing and fell to the ground. A hush came over the set. Crew members helped the man to his feet. No one helped me. That’s when I realized I’d tackled Bruce Bodner, the film’s producer and Chase’s business partner. I wanted to run but there was nowhere to hide. My skin become hot and itchy. Everyone stared at me in horror. Chase was the first to speak. “What’s your name, son?”

“Loren,” I answered sheepishly.

“You’re fired, Loren.”

Bodner quickly intervened. “No, no, it’s okay. He didn’t mean it. He was just doing his job.” I slowly rose to my feet. My hands and legs were shaking. I wanted to apologize but was too mortified. I looked at Chase and asked, “Does this mean I’m rehired?”

“Give the kid a raise and let’s move on,” John Carpenter said. “We have a movie to make.”

The crew returned to action. Chase and Carpenter disappeared to discuss the scene. I stood in place, traumatized. The First AD said, “You squashed the wrong roach, son.”

I was posted outside Chase’s trailer to shoo away tourists. After the scene, Chase returned to the trailer. He walked past me without a word and stepped inside. He resumed playing his music, opting for a low-register dirge like something you’d hear in a B-Grade horror film. The tunes went on a while then stopped. Footsteps plodded toward the trailer door. The knob turned and Chase stepped outside.

“You think you can unzip me so I can take a crap,” he asked. I pulled his jumpsuit zipper halfway down his back. He spoke again. “That thing that happened back there… making movies is crazy, huh?” I realized this was his way of apologizing. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Chase. You were standing up for your friend.”

“Call me Chevy,” he said. “And keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You mean guarding motor homes?”

“If that’s what you want to do, sure.” He fidgeted, apology over. “Anything else you want to ask me,” he said.

“I heard there’s a town called Chevy Chase, Maryland. Is it named after you or are you named after it?”

“I’ve never heard that one before,” he said. He returned to his motor home and his magical keyboard. We didn’t speak again. The production left San Francisco a week later. I was not retained. A few months later, I gave up my desire to become an Assistant Director. I realized “squashing roaches” was not my thing.