Moviegoers might be forgiven for seeing Chris Columbus credited as a producer on Nosferatu and wondering, Wait…the Home Alone guy? (There are others with that name, obviously.) But yes: This bloodcurdling vampire saga was indeed shepherded by the same filmmaker who made that heartwarming comedy about a little boy left behind during the holidays, not to mention other family-friendly classics like Mrs. Doubtfire and the first two Harry Potter movies.
In fact, Columbus has been helping produce the eerie, unsettling work of writer-director Robert Eggers since the filmmaker’s first feature, 2015’s The Witch, which was followed up by his 2019 madness-at-the-edge-of-the-sea drama, The Lighthouse. “Just because I make a certain, specific kind of film didn’t mean I wasn’t in love with every other genre of filmmaking,” Columbus tells Vanity Fair.
While some of his own biggest hits have left audiences feeling warm and fuzzy, Columbus has a cold-and-dark streak too. His breakthrough came after he wrote the blockbuster 1984 creature feature Gremlins, which sent destructive little green guys to tear apart a small town at Christmas. He’s also the screenwriter who imagined a homicidal knight emerging from a church’s stained glass window to slay an elderly priest in 1985’s Young Sherlock Holmes (also set at Christmastime).
The 66-year-old says working with Eggers has enabled him to touch the void again, allowing him to indulge the sinister side behind his nice-guy reputation. He’s also producing the movie with his daughter, Eleanor Columbus, turning his fascination with the macabre and dark sense of humor into a family business with Maiden Voyage Pictures. In this exclusive sit-down, Columbus reveals the various ways he weighed in on Nosferatu—and why such a monstrous movie is opening on Christmas Day instead of, say, Halloween.
Plus, as a special Christmas bonus, he shares memories of his memorable past projects, including never-before-divulged details about the bad experience with Chevy Chase that led him to walk away from directing Christmas Vacation. Columbus also addresses Donald Trump’s notorious cameo in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, and why he reluctantly included it in the first place.
Vanity Fair: You’re known for making films set during the holidays. Is that just coincidence, or was it a clever way to make sure your movies become annual traditions?
Chris Columbus: It started on Gremlins. I was always fascinated by Christmas because if you keep your eyes open and you don’t close yourself off, you are truly seeing the height of people’s joy and happiness—but you’re also seeing the lowest of lows. You’re seeing people at a very depressed point. And I felt that that contrast during the holidays was fascinating.
Is Christmas fertile ground for drama and tension?
Christmas should be the happiest time for any family, but it can always be ruined by someone drinking too much or talking about politics or whatever. Gremlins was the moment when I realized that setting something dark against a peaceful and beautiful backdrop was interesting. It reached its crescendo with Nosferatu, which is a film set at Christmastime. [Laughs] It is the ultimate horrific experience for a family.
I remember thinking, Why isn’t this coming out at Halloween?
Peter Kujawski, the head of Focus Features, came to us with that when we were debating a release date. We thought about Halloween, and he went through every weekend around October. There was a horror film every weekend or every other weekend, which gave us no space to breathe. Since the movie was set at Christmas, he said, “We have a wild idea. Let’s open on Christmas Day.” He mentioned the fact that The Exorcist, way back when, opened on Christmas and it did very well. That was the thinking.
How did you and Robert Eggers first connect?
About 10 years ago, I started an independent film company called Maiden Voyage Pictures with my daughter Eleanor. It was in an effort to help first-time filmmakers, while at the same time dealing with genres that were outside of the kind of films I made. I connected with Rob on The Witch, and we became executive producers. Immediately, during postproduction on The Witch, we started talking about Nosferatu, which was his dream.
That’s still a long journey to the screen.
We’ve been living with it for about 10 years. Then Focus Features decided to greenlight the film, and Maiden Voyage decided to actually actively produce, as opposed to taking an executive producer credit. I moved to Prague [for the shoot], and basically I put my writing and directing career on hold for eight months and produced Nosferatu. I had the time of my life.
Eggers has talked about you helping keep the momentum going and the motivation clear.
I said to him, “Rob, we’ll come in and spend a couple of weeks. Obviously, you’re an incredible filmmaker. You’re fine, you won’t need us.” And he goes, “No, no, no, no, no. I need you guys to move to Prague, stop everything else, and actively be a creative producer on the film.” Basically, we were at Rob’s side during production. Every time Rob shoots, we all huddle and talk about the take.
Are there things you pick up from the way he works?
I would tell any filmmaker of my generation or age, “You should do that.” A lot of guys my age get older and they get tunnel vision. They’re like, “This is how it must be done.” And for me, it’s exciting to watch somebody like Rob—who has a very specific style of filmmaking, which is completely different from mine—and watch him and learn from him. Even at my age, I’m continuing to grow. That’s the best part of working on the Nosferatu film.
Bill Skarsgård’s obsessed Count Orlok tells Lily-Rose Depp’s Ellen he will return for her in three nights, and then terrorizes everyone she knows until she succumbs. Rob says you urged him to set that timeline.
I was certainly part of the ticking clock of the three nights. Nosferatu is not your standard horror film; it’s a gothic love story. For me, that’s what the movie was about. It was about the relationship between Ellen and Count Orlok. I tried whenever I could to push him in that direction.
Were there other ways you encouraged him to lean into the toxic romance?
There was one situation in postproduction when I heard the first go at the score for the final sequence, which is highly emotional and—in a weird sense, in a very fucked-up way—very romantic and twisted and beautiful. I didn’t think that the score was where it needed to be from an emotional standpoint. I remember hearing it and thinking it was a little flat, and initially I probably ruffled the feathers of the composer [Robin Carolan]. But he and I talked about it at the premiere, and he thanked me for that suggestion. I thought he was going to hate me for the rest of my life.
You’ve experienced that give-and-take yourself, right? When Steven Spielberg was a producer on Gremlins, didn’t he urge you to make it more playful and comedic, which changed course from the dark horror film you originally wrote?
It really wasn’t a tough pill to swallow, because even at the time in 1983, he was Steven Spielberg. He’d done E.T. he had done Raiders of the Lost Ark, he had done Jaws. So he was one of my heroes. I was 23 or 24 and just starting out. For me, it was a learning experience. I had the joy and the luck of having a film teacher at NYU named Haig Manoogian, who taught Marty Scorsese. Haig was my mentor at NYU. And then I left NYU, and within a few years, my mentor was Steven Spielberg.
Spielberg met you and bought the Gremlins script while reaching out and helping students and newcomers, just like you’re doing with Maiden Voyage. Do you remember how you came up with that idea about crazy little ghouls running amok?
I was living in a loft in New York, when lofts were $100 a month and filled with mice and rats. That’s what inspired Gremlins.
All the creatures that were actually scampering around your apartment?
Yeah. I basically would sleep with my hands draped over the bed in the loft, and mice would be scurrying by my arm waking me up every night. That’s where the idea came from.
Don’t feed them after midnight.
[Laughs] Yeah, people are always asking me, “When are you going to do something darker like Gremlins?” I always felt: I’ve done that. Nosferatu is certainly pushing the boundaries of where horror and gothic romance can go. Certainly, I’m inspired by that world.
Gremlins has become a holiday favorite that parents share with their kids. Just how dark did the original script get? I’ve heard the whole family in the story got wiped out.
I think the dad stayed behind and fought the Gremlins. I don’t quite remember if he survived. The mom certainly didn’t. Billy [played by Zach Galligan] ran into the foyer of his house, and his mom’s head came rolling down the stairs. So there were some deaths. And Barney the dog was not so lucky to just be hung up in the Christmas lights. He was actually hung up by his neck and died. We killed the dog!
Didn’t the gremlins devour him too?
They ate him! Then they went into McDonald’s and ate the people—but not the food. We had a lot of things that didn’t make the final script. Honestly, that stuff is in my DNA, so it is a joy to come back to something like Nosferatu. I felt that Rob certainly went for it, and I had no problem with that. People would expect, based on my surface career, that maybe I would be pushing him away from that sort of thing. But I was pushing him toward as much violence as possible, to make it as bloody as possible. I do love that stuff.
But you didn’t push back when Gremlins became more comedic and lighthearted?
I felt that, at the time: Who am I? I certainly did not have enough ego or experience to tell Spielberg, “Oh, you’re wrong. We need to make it as violent as possible.” He was absolutely right. Gizmo turned into a gremlin on page 30 and did not remain [soft and cuddly] throughout the entire film. That was one of Steven’s best ideas—that Gizmo remained by Billy’s side. He knew this and I didn’t: The audience needed someone to relate to in terms of the gremlins, and that was Gizmo.
You still have plenty of weirdness in that film.
We were plenty dark, as far as I’m concerned. We ended up with the story of Phoebe Cates’s father dying in the chimney, and the studio wanted to cut it. Steven and [director] Joe Dante and I fought for that. That was one thing I did fight for at the time.
Spielberg produced your script for The Goonies, another fan favorite, and you worked together several times in your early years. Are you still in touch?
I just finished directing Thursday Murder Club, and I made it for Amblin. Steven is a producer on the film, and it’s the first time I’ve directed a film for him. Steven came to the editing room and we spent two days together, and it reinvigorated that feeling I had back in the ’80s. I felt that I had a little more confidence, but at the same time, I truly respected his opinion.
Another script of yours Spielberg produced was Young Sherlock Holmes—which is also set during Christmas. That movie is known for its groundbreaking visual effects, like the glass knight that hops off the window and goes on the attack. I believe that was one of the first Pixar projects.
Yeah, it was one of the first big completely CGI visual effects. It took six months. I think today, it would probably take about four weeks. I’m being generous—probably two weeks.
When you were writing that, did you include it because you knew there was state-of-the-art tech that would allow that visual to happen?
I figure, if I write it, they’ll either figure out a way to do it or say it’s impossible. That was really the situation with Young Sherlock Holmes. I wrote it because I thought it was a cool image and thought they would do it practically, create some sort of Jim Henson [puppeteered] version of the glass that would actually move and come forward. That’s probably what I saw in my head. The fact that they were able to pull that off digitally was amazing when I first saw it.
Another producer you worked with closely was the late John Hughes, who wrote and produced the Home Alone movies. How important was he in shaping the kind of filmmaker you became?
I felt that John and I were really in sync artistically for a few years, probably from about 1990 to ’93.
How did you two connect?
I had directed a film that was a complete disaster. It’s a movie called Heartbreak Hotel that no one saw. It is not that great of a movie. It was a critical disaster, a commercial disaster, and I remember driving with my wife back to Chicago, and we were talking about it. I said, “Well, now I can go back to being a writer. This didn’t work out.” John Hughes and I had the same agent, and that’s when he sent me the script for Christmas Vacation.
The Chevy Chase movie?
The Chevy Chase one. And I responded that I thought the script was great. I started shooting some second unit of Chicago at Christmastime in December. We were about ready to start making the film.
You were signed on to direct Christmas Vacation?
I was signed on…and then I met Chevy Chase. Even given my situation at the time, where I desperately needed to make a film, I realized I couldn’t work with the guy.
Tale as old as time, right there.
Tale as old as time! I was one of the many who couldn’t work with him. And I called John and I said, “This is really hard for me, but I can’t do this movie with Chevy Chase.”
You came to this while in the midst of making it?
We were in the midst of shooting second unit. We didn’t start shooting the movie or building sets. But it was December, so I had to go to downtown Chicago and shoot all of the department stores and all of that. I had two meetings with Chevy.
What exactly happened between you two?
My first meeting with him, I sat down with him. It was just the two of us. He had to know I was directing the movie. I talked about how I saw the movie, how I wanted to make the movie. He didn’t say anything. I went through about a half hour of talking. He didn’t say a word. And then he stops and he says—and this makes no sense to any human being on the planet, but I’m telling you. I probably have never told this story.
Okay.
Forty minutes into the meeting, he says, “Wait a second. You’re the director?” And I said, “Yeah…I’m directing the film.” And he said to me the most surreal, bizarre thing. I still haven’t been able to make any sense out of it. He said, “Oh, I thought you were a drummer.” [Shakes head] I said, “Uhh, okay. Let’s start talking about the film again.” After about 30 seconds, he said, “I got to go.”
He just walked out?
He went off and met with John Hughes and said we needed to meet again. Then we had a dinner where John Hughes was present, and I was basically nonexistent. It was Chevy and Hughes, and they talked about everything except Christmas Vacation. We spent two hours together, and I left the dinner and I thought, There’s no way I can make a movie with this guy. First of all, he’s not engaged. He’s treating me like shit. I don’t need this. I’d rather not work again. I’d rather write.
Do you think he was hazing you, just asserting dominance?
I don’t know, maybe that’s it. I guess that sense of humor was funny in the early ’70s. It’s so surreal…Who says anything like that to anybody? It makes no sense. So to tell that story almost makes no sense, but it actually happened. I thought, This was how we’re going to work together? I’m going to be on set and he’s not listening. [Representatives for Chase did not immediately respond to a request for comment.]
What did you do next?
I called John and said, “I can’t do this. John, I need this job desperately, but I know I will not make a good movie with this guy and I will let you down.” And he said, “I understand. Completely understand.”
So you walked away?
I quit Christmas Vacation. The next weekend, I got another script from John—and it’s Home Alone. Home Alone, for me, was even more personal, a better script. And I thought, I can really do something with this, and I don’t have to deal with Chevy Chase. That was it. John and I started to work together, and we had the same sensibility. The only difference between the two of us was, John liked to stay up all night and I work during the day. When I was shooting Home Alone, I’d shoot during the day, and John wanted to have script meetings at night at his house till four in the morning. I was getting about two hours’ sleep. I had a newborn!
But you two made it work.
That really was the thing that differed John and I: We kept different hours. But we made two Home Alone pictures together. He produced Only the Lonely, which was a movie I really wanted to make with John Candy. It was a side of John Candy that we hadn’t seen. There was a time when I thought I would shoot most of my films in Chicago, and John would continue to write some great stuff for me. Then I got caught up in the San Francisco scene. I went off to do Mrs. Doubtfire, and then fell in love with Robin Williams, and we decided to do as many movies as we could together.
I’ve got to ask about Home Alone 2. Do you get sick of people asking you about the Donald Trump cameo?
No. [Laughs] The only way we could get to shoot in the Plaza Hotel was that Trump had a cameo.
Because he owned it at the time.
So we gave him the cameo. I said to my crew, “We’re going to cut this. We can always cut it.” We ended up previewing the movie. Trump was basically just a real estate celebrity in Manhattan. And he comes onscreen and the place applauds and cheers. So we kept it in. And it stayed in forever.
Does it seem bizarre to you now?
Two years ago my wife and I were cleaning out cupboards, and there was a box with all these pictures of me and Donald Trump and Macaulay Culkin and [Trump’s] daughter, and we’re just all in these pictures. It’s just very surreal.
Some people love him, so I’m sure they’re still cheering for it.
Exactly.
For others, it may be your most profound Christmas jump scare.
[Laughs] I think so. Trump said that it was a lie, that he never asked for a cameo, that we begged him to be in the movie.
Oh, sure.
I was about to respond, and my wife said, “You know what? Stay out of it.” It’s like, I’m not going to get in a fight over Home Alone. There are much bigger battles to be fought.
This interview has been edited for context and clarity.
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The post Chris Columbus, the King of Christmas Movies, Has Now Gift Wrapped a Nightmare With ‘Nosferatu’ appeared first on Vanity Fair.
