Chris Farley, Hollywood CA, 1994. Chris showed up at the shoot for Black Sheep smoking a cigarette, eating a candy bar, and jumping up and down, all at the same time. He was shockingly physical and mobile. You’d think oh my god! That had to hurt his back! But he didn’t care. He was pure adrenaline, kinetic energy, kinetic comedy. It was messy, sloppy even. Yet he was so endearing, and everybody loved him and his characters.When we shot Tommy Boy, he’s grabbing little David Spade and basically throwing him around. It was just him, me, and David Spade and this dusty car on a deserted road. Off-camera, he was soft, small in personality, loving, and warm. But you’d put a camera on him, and he’d transform into this powerful force.Then came Beverly Hills Ninja. My 12-year-old nephew was a huge Chris Farley fan. I got permission from my sister to take him to LA with me for the shoot. We flew from New Jersey, and when we got to LA, I had to pick up my equipment from my storage space. It was late and the place was closed, so I jumped over the fence to grab my stuff. Next thing I know, there’s a police helicopter overhead and cops pulling up, like it was the crime of the century. My nephew was there, and all I could think was, my sister’s going to kill me!When we got to the shoot, Chris was as animated as always, but he was so kind to my nephew. You could feel his humbleness—a genuinely nice guy living in this messy body full of energy. I came across this leopard-skin jacket—it was the antithesis of the person Chris had showed me. I wanted to do something old Hollywood with him, something dignified. So I pulled him aside and took this picture of him that was reminiscent of classic, Hollywood imagery. But then I realized, he looked like Fred Flinstone in this jacket. And there I was there with my handlebar mustache. I just had to get a photo—capturing this cartoonish version of our personalities together.
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