Writer/Director/Producer Jared Seide talks about the influences for CREAMPUFF:

AGENTS

If one were to reflect on The Greatest Hits of the Hollywood Rumor Mill, one would be certain to uncover myriad substance-related "rise and fall" stories. Many reach the status of "urban myth" and are retold in tabloids, tv talk shows and around the ubiquitous watercoolers far east of the 101 freeway. One recent fable with some actual, verifiable facts reached the pages of a prominent film industry magazine. The basic premise of someone whose ambition, drive, greed and ruthlessness not only lead to great fortune and success, but, ultimately, excess, destructiveness and self-sabotage is familiar. It seemed interesting to give Jack a backstory of all the trappings (wealth, powerful career, trophy wife) and not spell out in the text how it all slipped away. The gaps could be filled in by the actors and director and inform the performance, but the audience would experience a moment in the fall, as in life, without the benefit of all the "character background." It seemed more authentic and the hints and suggestions of the larger context of Jack's life in the text and production design seemed to be familiar enough within the popular iconography to let them speak for themselves. (Jack grasps for his Cohibas, his industry trade papers and his telephone in a vain attempt to hold onto a lifestyle that's all but slipped away.) The posture of an audience trying to understand the hows and whys -- caring enough to consider what may have happened -- despite a not very sympathetic character, was more important than the specific story details.

RENT

I had the good fortune to see an early performance of Jonathan Larson's extraordinary Broadway musical, RENT. There were numerous moments in the play that had tremendous resonance for me, one in particular stood out. A group of people living with AIDS are in a support group and discuss and argue their various experiences of the challenges they face. What follows is an extraordinary musical number, begun by a dyspeptic, hostile character, who is joined gradually by all the members of the group. They sing in unison and cannon of their shared fear and their round resounds beyond the stage to the experience of so many people who have faced and are facing the specter of AIDS. And while behavior and experiences vary greatly, there is a universality to the terror and dread. Sometimes it's expressed as pain, sometimes denial, sometimes anger. Jack shares this inner terror. Larson's words are simple: "Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?" Were he more self-aware and articulate, Jack might speak those same words.

WALDEN SCHOOL & NIM CHIMPSKY

The late, lamented Walden School was an extraordinary middle and high school on New York's Upper West Side. It was a vanguard, progressive school, a place where creativity and critical thinking skills were valued, sometimes more than "the fundamentals." For many of us, Walden School stood as the center of a now-lost, pre-Me Generation, liberal and idealistic world -- political, emotional, impassioned, much loved and much hated, sometimes simultaneously. It was about as diverse and integrated as a New York private school could be expected to be and it was a place of great passions and great contradictions. Memories from those halcyon days still warm (or haunt) the hearts of those who survived it. Quirky, bizarre, beautiful images linger so distinctly (like the family with "the chimp in the house," who actually was learning sign language -- and was named Nim Chimpsky). Many relationships formed there have been sustained into adulthood and many alumni have a vague awareness that their experiences in and around that place were their finest moments, as empowered and passionate as it would ever get. Some have gone on to greatness and success, some languish in mediocrity, unsure of where the entitlement stopped and why they seem unable to muster the tools to build a life. Jack and Robert could have been in my class.

THIS AMERICAN LIFE

There was an installment of Ira Glass' entertaining and provocative radio show on NPR that had a particular effect on me. The theme was "Quitting" and Glass posed the questions: "why do people quit?" and "when is enough enough?" among others. Much of the discussion and material pondered that notion of jobs, activities, relationships that seem absolutely untenable, destructive, unsustainable - yet that continue to linger. Sometimes the obvious choice to "quit" is shunned for reasons that seem mysterious, but are actually simple and universal. The "why" seemed less important to pin down than the awareness of a "why." It's too simple to dismiss a superficial impression of chaos and turmoil. There seems to be a much more meaningful story if one digs deep enough beneath the obvious behavior. A relationship like the one depicted in CREAMPUFF is deceptive, challenging and, one hopes, ultimately somewhat enlightening. Thanks to Ira Glass for getting me thinking about this stuff.

ARTAUD

It's no coincidence that the first word Jack utters in the film is "Artaud." Antonin Artaud is both the answer to the trivia question on the game show Jack's watching and a great inspiration for modern theatre. Though his musings may not be very applicable to filmmaking, per se, his essays and manifestos on drama and culture are seminal and profoundly affecting. Artaud (1896-1948) was an actor, director, playwright and critic who was an important fixture of the French avant-garde between the world wars. He was institutionalized for nine years and produced a great deal of criticism, in addition to his artistic output. His important work is collected in the book, THE THEATRE AND ITS DOUBLE, and he is credited with introducing the notion of a "Theatre of Cruelty," in which the audience is forced to confront its most intimate notions and feelings and access a level of truth and urgency through drama. Artaud was frustrated by the limitations of language and, ultimately, rejected it favor of an appeal to, perhaps assault on, the senses and the unconscious, as he felt that the traditional forms of Western theatre had ceased addressing the important elements of the human condition. Artaud found the theatre to be much like the plague: delirious, communicative, violent, honest, relentless. He posited a theatre in which the drama would purge and renew the audience through a visceral, piercing onslaught of emotion, symbols and images - something akin to "victims burnt at the stake, signaling through the flames." Artaud envisioned theatrical events so spectacular that their production is virtually impossible within the confines of reality. And while CREAMPUFF might not seem particularly "Artaudian," the notion of art as a cathartic, visceral assault intended to confront and purge societal prejudices and repressions and "drain abscesses collectively" has always held much appeal to me. It is hoped that the harshness in the film may, perchance, achieve some transcendence and evoke a compassion, an empathy that lies beyond discomfort.