Is Jerry Bruckheimer a Bad Boy?

His name may not be familiar to many filmgoers, but Jerry Bruckheimer’s movies certainly are. Do American Gigolo, Flashdance, Top Gun, Beverly Hills Cop, Bad Boys, Crimson Tide, Dangerous Minds, The Rock, Con Air, Armageddon, Gone in 60 Seconds, Pearl Harbor, Black Hawk Down and Coyote Ugly ring any bells?

And, for someone whose movies are generally loud, tense, heightened portraits of life, the big-time Hollywood producer was a hushed, relaxed talker during our brief phone interview. Unlike the visual excess and bombast that permeate most of his movies, Bruckheimer’s answers to my questions were clipped and concise, as if readymade for such an occasion.

The interview itself was in line with his most recent international release, Kangaroo Jack, which will be hitting video stores soon. The comedy-adventure romp may be "lighter" Bruckheimer fare, yet it earned over $70 million in the US alone. "You’d like to give back what the investors gave to get a movie made, to be able to keep making movies," the hit-maker reasons out why box-office size does matter.

As KJ producer, Bruckheimer "secured the material after the writers made their pitch. (Steve Bing and Barry O’Brien came up with the story; Bing and Scott Rosenberg scripted.) I brought it to Castle Rock Entertainment (a subsidiary of Warner Bros. Pictures), which agreed to distribute it… I oversaw the casting process… and I was at the location shoot (in Sydney, Australia) sometimes."

KJ takes place mainly in the Land Down Under, as it follows two childhood friends (Jerry O’Connell and Anthony Anderson) forced by a mobster (Christopher Walken) to transport dirty money to some dude in the Oz outback. Along the way and through sheer stupidity, the money gets into the hands–make that, pockets–of a marsupial, which leaps away with the $50,000 kitty and triggers a wild ’roos chase.

Given its apparent kid-friendliness compared to most of Bruckheimer’s previous efforts, KJ has been described in US reviews as the man’s initial foray into quote-unquote, family entertainment. "That’s not true," counters the 57-year-old filmmaker and father of a grown daughter. "Remember the Titans (the feel-good football movie starring Denzel Washington) was a family movie."

What made KJ a unique filmmaking experience for Bruckheimer was "having worked with the animators." Computer animators, that is, who imbued the lead kangaroo with larger-than-life moves and expressions–even, in certain scenes, the ability to speak. "It was fun to make it say whatever we wanted it to say," Bruckheimer enthuses.

Anything But Fun

For a lot of critics, however, KJ is anything but fun.

In fact, pretty much everything Bruckheimer has concocted for the big screen has been frowned upon by cineastes that he may as well be the devil’s gift to movies. "It comes with the territory," he reacts casually. "Nobody likes to be criticized, but you have to live with it." Still, the producer is beyond reproach at least in terms of not having concocted snoozers. "I like to make movies that don’t bore you," he divulges, partly explaining why his movies seem to perennially be on testosterone overload.

Such are the pyrotechnics to much of his movies, like Bad Boys II, where, among other things, a multimillion-dollar mansion gets blown to pieces–that 9/11 itself has been described as being "like a Jerry Bruckheimer movie." "You’d hope it was a movie," the man asserts. "It was a tragic event and I feel terrible about it. It certainly affected everybody and [in my case] it has affected the choices I make."

Speaking of choices, when asked to name an all-time favorite movie and an admired producer, Bruckheimer names The Bridge on the River Kwai and its own renowned producer, the late Sam Spiegel. "I love the romance of it," he elaborates of the 1957 classic and Oscar multi-winner. "It has wonderful characters and a great story." (And, incidentally, an explosive climax.)

Bruckheimer, the son of German-Jewish US immigrants, has been enamored with movies ever since he was growing up in a blue-collar Jewish section of Detroit. The visual splendor of cinema led him to photography, even earning him several local prizes. "I would probably be a photographer," he answers when asked for his possible alternative career, adding that "I usually take pictures on the set." (After I suggested that he compile his many shots for a behind-the-scenes book, he said "Maybe.")

Before he became one of the kings of the celluloid biz, Bruckheimer paid his dues on Madison Avenue, helming a Bonnie and Clyde spoof for Pontiac, and earning a degree in Psychology from the University of Arizona. Later on, he left a lucrative advertising job in New York to accept low-paying film work in the early ’70s–a risk that eventually paid off, and how.

One Busy Guy

Bruckheimer claims he "can’t direct (since) I don’t have the patience for it, (and) I can’t write (and) I can’t act." Nevertheless, the man has got to be one of the busiest of Hollywood’s workaholics.

In fact, the tireless producer has five movies "in various phases"–including the Johnny Depp-Orlando Bloom starrer Pirates of the Caribbean; Veronica Guerin, with Cate Blanchett playing the Irish journalist; and King Arthur–and five TV shows in circulation, including the locally aired CSI and The Amazing Race (whose fourth season is finally on the air), plus three new pilots. Given his many simultaneous preoccupations, I wondered if the man has his own HQ–his own Batcave, if you will–from which he operates and controls it all. He laughs appreciatively at the notion, then replies, "I have great people who do a great job."

Bruckheimer once said of his work that "We are in the transport business. We transport audiences from one place to another." Asked to elaborate on that statement, he responds, "We intend to take audiences on an emotional ride. Every movie we make is effective if the viewers are transported, moved."

That partly explains the animated icon that opens any of his movies–wherein the audience seems to cruise fast along a desert highway under an overcast sky, stopping abruptly when a lightning bolt strikes a tree and consequently brings it to life. "Ideas are lightning bolts. They bring things to life," explains Bruckheimer, who himself continues to bring things to cinematic life.