"Of all the mysteries of the universe one can ponder, the one I keep returning to is: How does Ted V. Mikels keep making movies?"
—
The Bad Movie Report
"If half of the people like your movie, you're OK. If more than half like it, you've got a winner."
—
Ted V. Mikels
Ted V. Mikels does not make B-movies. He does not even make C-movies or D-movies. Mikels makes what those in the business might call Z-movies. His low-budget, or often no-budget, productions scrape the bottom of the film industry's barrel and occupy a strange parallel universe of their own, where names like Larry Buchanan and Ed Wood are the equivalent of Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese. This world is favored by stoned college students, tragic hipsters and Mystery Science Theater 3000 fans, and it's one in which Mikels has done remarkably well.
From his 1963 first feature, Strike Me Deadly, up through the just-completed The Cauldron: Baptism of Blood, which premieres at the Brenden Theatres inside the Palms on March 21, Mikels has directed, written, produced, edited, filmed and acted in more than 100 films, sometimes doing all six in one production. He's been in Las Vegas since 1986, and whatever you think of the quality of his films, you can't argue that he's the only independent filmmaker in town making a living off of his own movies. He's even got his own studio in an office complex off of Industrial Road.
It's at this studio where Mikels and I meet, as he waits for a FedEx driver to send off a videotape. In his 70s, Mikels is like a jovial, slightly daft uncle, with a curled mustache and a necklace made from what looks like the incisor of a saber-toothed tiger. As I look around his front office, decorated with posters from various Mikels masterpieces and press clippings from throughout the years, Mikels challenges me to name one other filmmaker who's got as many credits. He has a slight twinkle in his eyes as he banters with the FedEx woman, and when the Weekly photographer shows up, Mikels shares camera tips with her.
Perhaps it's that friendly attitude which has kept Mikels in business for so long, even when his films have the reputation of being some of the worst ever made. His "classics," like 1972's The Corpse Grinders (about a company that turns humans into cat food, followed belatedly by a sequel in 2000) and 1969's The Astro-Zombies (about robot killers from space) are gold standards for bad cinema. 1969's Girl in Gold Boots was lampooned on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Aaron Spelling supposedly was inspired to create, or rip off, Charlie's Angels after seeing 1973's The Doll Squad. These are the bits of Mikels lore, the stories that have kept him in business for so long, that have engendered his strangely rabid fan base. "I've had guys that are 50 years old and say the only movie they remember [from] 30 years ago is Corpse Grinders," Mikels says with pride. And even if "memorable" isn't the same as "good," it's enough to fuel DVD sales, Mikels' main source of income.
"I did a tally on all my cards, and the way I'm going, it'll take me 55 years, if I don't buy anything else, to pay them off," he says, surveying the ramshackle editing bay that takes up most of the second floor at TVM Studios. The equipment has been cobbled together over the years, every piece hard-earned. Mikels has the kind of appreciation for his gear the average Hollywood director never does, acutely aware of the cost of each. Downstairs is a giant movie camera Mikels purchased from Paramount in 1980 for $280,000. It's one of his most prized possessions and he asks to have his picture taken in front of it. I ask if he uses it anymore. "Oh, no," he says quickly. "It's too expensive." The camera costs $1.50 per second to run. Nowadays, Mikels shoots on digital video or Beta.
He is happy with his low budgets and self-imposed Hollywood exile, although he'll probably never be much more than a footnote in film history. He'd chafe under the studio system anyway, preferring his method of doing everything quickly, cheaply and on his own. "In Hollywood, I've waited two hours for a lighting setup that I do in five minutes," he says. "I make any and all decisions, I don't have anybody telling me when to go, what to do, how to do it, what I can't do. I like that autonomy."
Of course, Mikels isn't completely immune to the lure of the big budget. If it meant getting the chance to film his dream project, an epic version of Beowulf, he'd snap at the chance. Even now, he's talking to financial backers, although after nearly 50 years in the business, he doesn't get his hopes up. "If it happens, good," he says. "If it doesn't, I'll just move on and make Corpse Grinders III."