How to B: For Sale, Not Cheap - Interview with Rachelle Williams (By Rhonda Baughman)

To B these days, or not to B – this is the question posed to B movie tart Rachelle Williams – who kindly told me the allusion “to be or not to be” was technically Hamlet contemplating suicide. “Oh,” I stated, hyper-aware of this fact and apparent faux-pas – and, not wanting to get off on the wrong note, I said, “you’re a fan of Shakespeare, then?” “Sure, as long as it’s not the comedy shit – I mean, that stuff is only funny if you have no real sense of humor.” This was going to be one helluva long interview – I knew that already. My editors at this website already prepped me on, how shall I tactfully put it? I’ll say, Rachelle’s feisty attitude.“And as for your actual first question – my answer is very complex. Do you still want it?” She must have sensed me struggling and cut me a break, so I wholeheartedly agreed. “It’s like this – making low-budget movies can be great fun or it can be the biggest fucking chore of your life. Ultimately, it’s up to you. It’s in your attitude. Much like no one gets rich making poetry these days, unless your bloody Nikki Giovanni or something, no one but the top tier execs, if even, get rich from a B flick. The market is glutted, flooded, scarred, and gasping for air - drowning in a sea of poo.”

Scene from "Take-Away Spirit" (Photograph by Kevin Collins. From Left to Right: Rachelle Williams, Elizabeth Terrell, & Evil Mannequin)

“I see …” I said, “can you elaborate?”

“Are you fucking new here? Of course I can elaborate. Furthermore, if you’re not having a good time, I say, why bother even doing the film? I have other ways of cashing in on capitalism, why bother with little to no pay for a film no one will ever see? The only advantage I say – the camaraderie. The fucking friendship, man. You know what I mean?”

“Absolutely.”

“If there’s no money, no fun, AND no chance of meeting anyone remotely interesting, count me out. I’ll even tackle a funky script for low pay if it means I can meet some great people.”

“For example?”

“For example, you. You’re a fucking riot – quivering at your terminal just talking to me.”

“Anyone else?” I ask, clearing my throat, practicing some deep breathing.

“For sure – if you’re just talking women, I mean this is a site for women too, yes? Then I would have to add Brinke Stevens, Ryli Morgan, Amy Lynn Best … “

“And men?”

“What about them? I think they’re neat.”

“I mean, are there men you have worked with who you enjoyed?”

“Plenty.”

There is a brief pause filled with something … a little … evil. She scares me and she knows it. Then she starts laughing.

“There was one guy. Who shall remain nameless. We were going to collaborate, let’s just say, and instead he gets pissed because I won’t sleep with him – I mean, I could barely sleep in the same room with him, let alone fuck him. Once he realized my pussy was not part of the deal, he backed out of the collaboration.”

“Were you upset by this development?”

“Hell, no. I was just trying to be nice – cut the guy a break. I mean, he couldn’t write to save his life, so I thought I would be nice and try to teach him a thing or two.   Well, obviously he could not be taught.”

“I see. What have you learned from this experience?”

Rachelle pauses – I can hear her synapses firing.

“What goes around comes around. I mean, the guy sends me a copy of a copy of a nasty letter he sent to my editor. I doubt he got the response he wanted, so he tried to send me a mean letter to hurt me. The editors didn’t care, I didn’t care, but the best part? There were misspellings and homophones in the letter. I mean, can you believe it?!”

I said I could not, but Rachelle cuts me off.

“I think he’s back living with his parents, since he couldn’t make the LA cut – and probably has his old job back at the Peach Barn. That’s what I call karma. I have an ex who was just as mean, one reason upon multiple why he is an ex, but he also lives in his parents’ basement. Heads up, you fucking morons – this is not a coincidence. I have power you could only dream of … ”

See what I mean? This Rachelle woman, for as much as admire her, is scary. Potentially dangerous. And what if she does have power? How can we stop her?

“I know what you’re thinking …” Rachelle says, “and you can’t stop what was meant to be.”

I can only stare ahead. My knuckles are white. Rachelle laughs and hangs up. I know what I have to do. I begin to write … it’s simple.

To be or not to be …