King Cohen begins with J.J. Abrams holding a “doll” of the monster baby from It’s Alive (1974) and telling a story about its director, Larry Cohen. He says that Cohen saw the doll on TV in a show featuring Abrams’ production company, Bad Robot, and called to ask about it. It turns out that Abrams had met Cohen at a bus stop years earlier; the future director had given him directions when his car broke down and he was trying to get to a meeting on time.
King Cohen, a documentary about Larry Cohen, is full of such anecdotes from people who knew him by working with him (Eric Roberts, Michael Moriarty, Tracy Lords, etc.) and people who knew him by reputation (Joe Dante, John Landis, Martin Scorsese, etc.) The movie paints a picture of a true guerilla filmmaker, a man who often shot his movies on the streets of New York City and in familiar locations without obtaining permission to do so.
I know Cohen from the aforementioned It’s Alive and its two sequels, as well as his other genre movies, God Told Me To (1976), Q, the Winged Serpent (1982) and The Stuff (1985). I had no idea he was such a prolific screenwriter! He worked as an NBC page after attending New York City College, using the opportunity to meet people in the entertainment industry. During the golden age of TV, he was branded “master of the premise,” an idea man who developed an immunity to rejection.
Cohen claims credit for starting the “blaxploitation” subgenre with his 1973 movie, Black Caesar. In some of the most entertaining scenes of King Cohen, actor Fred Williamson calls out Cohen for some outrageous embellishments he’s supposedly made to stories that contribute to his reputation. It’s clear that he’s fond of the man and of his time working with him; however, as you’d expect from Fred Williamson, he’s not going to take any bullshit.
King Cohen shares its structure with another documentary about a filmmaker, De Palma (2016). That is to say, it leads us chronologically through his career, with segments about many of his most famous films. Cohen talks about them, his casts and crew talk about them, and other celebrities talk about their influence. Based on the stature of the movies they made, King Cohen naturally feels like a low budget version of De Palma.
I was most educated and entertained by the King Cohen segments for projects in which I didn’t know he was involved. For example, I vaguely remember the VHS cover box for a movie called Wicked Stepmother (1989). After seeing 80-year old Bette Davis on a talk show, he was inspired to provide work for her and wrote the movie. She accepted the role, then left the production before it was finished. Speculation about the reason is a compelling piece of film history.
I recommend King Cohen for anyone who’s a movie buff. Whether or not you like his movies, which, admittedly are hit and miss, you’ll discover something to admire about them. If you do like his movies, you’ll love the documentary. If you think you know Larry Cohen, you’re bound to learn something new. Ultimately, it leaves me feeling positive, especially when we see that the 79-year old man still writes everyday, although he now uses pen and paper simply because he enjoys it.
