For Roger Corman, Dick Miller was one of those dependable actors that a filmmaker on a low budget and a tight schedule loves.
For directors such as Joe Dante, Allan Arkush and Jonathan Kaplan—all of whom grew up on Corman movies in the 1960s—Dick Miller was a cult icon and an evergreen screen presence who could light up the smallest supporting role.
For film freaks everywhere, Dick Miller stands among the quintessential character-actors. He’s in the same league as Harry Dean Stanton, Elisha Cook Jr., Charles Napier, Jack Carson and William Demarest. They’re those guys who are in so many movies that you feel like you know them. You instantly recognize his face even if you don’t know his name. He’s likable when his character isn’t. He gives any film credibility. Even when the movie isn’t very good, the makers got at least one thing right when they cast that guy.
If you’re one of the freaks, you might not learn much from this entertaining little documentary. You’ve seen Dick Miller more times than you’ve seen some of your immediate family (and you’ll see him here, too, still kicking in his 80s, ponytailed like an old beatnik). You know his career. There’s no tension here, no scintillating narrative. The closest this film gets to drama is when it touches on Miller’s annoyance with being cut out of Pulp Fiction (Tarantino, what the hell? I thought you were cool!). The pleasure here comes from just hearing all of these veterans (Corman, Dante, Arkush, Kaplan, Fred Dekker, Mary Woronov, John Sayles and the list goes on) knock around thoughts and stories about another veteran’s sixty-year career. This isn’t an investigation. This is diner talk into the wee hours. You leave it full and happy.