It was an odd evening the first time I met Edgar Wright. One of those strange screenings set up by my friend Harry Knowles, showing some film we’d only heard whispers about. Harry was excited, another writer flew in just for the evening to see it and the invitation to us all was unlike any of Harry’s other screenings. Bring every friend you can. Of course, that wasn’t easy. As much as people love free movies, no one was interested in this unheard of Zombie Comedy. I mean. How good could that be?

I sat in the back row with Harry, and just as the movie credits began, some guy sat two seats over from me. I’d seen the guy earlier, chatting with a few of my friends. It was the director, the young Edgar Wright. Instantly I got uncomfortably nervous. Not because he was any sort of imposing figure or even that he was a director. Almost no one in the theatre had heard of him before that night. No, what made me so nervous was here was this first-time director, showing his very British comedy to an American audience for the very first time. And I was the guy he was going to be listening to. Every chuckle, every chortle, every bored sigh that might escape would be weighed, calculated and measured.

If I laughed at something unintentionally funny, or didn’t laugh at something that was supposed to be funny, this bag of nerves sitting next to me would scribble it down in mental notes and pull just a little more hair out. No director is calm at their first screening, but one in which the audience is from another country is something else entirely. Fortunately for us, the movie was Shaun of the Dead. A scant five minutes in I was laughing so hard I forgot who was sitting next to me, and the theatre was going nuts over this film that no one had yet even heard of. Outside, just afterwards, that young man was bubbling with energy. We’d not only gotten it. We loved it. There was hope for his little movie, and it was boiling over within him.

Fast forward several months to the local premiere event for Shaun of the Dead. The word had yet to hit the mainstream, but the underground buzz was fierce. The screening exploded. Robert Rodriguez jumped out of his chair and swung his hat around, letting out an honest to god YEE-HAW! Afterwards, a group of us hit a nearby pub for a few brews and chatter. I ended up in a corner with Rodriguez and Wright, talking about the nuances of Shaun and the various trials and tribulations of trying to get it put together. By night’s end, it had become one of those perfect nights – one of those nights you knew could never be duplicated.

Shortly after that, Shaun hit theatres, became a hit, and Edgar, Simon and Nick would get the funding for their next and somewhat more ambitious film, Hot Fuzz. But this wouldn’t be the last time our paths would cross.

Want more? Read part two here.

C. Robert Cargill – - – Email Me
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Austin-based Cargill, who not only loves but owns The Cutting Edge, writes on movies and DVD five times a week.