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It was 1992, and the Sundance Film Festival was shaking. Three unknown directors had stormed into Utah with movies that signaled a fresh and funky moment in American film: Anders brought Gas Food Lodging, Rockwell served up In the Soup, and a fast-talking firebrand named Quentin Tarantino strafed the place with a blood-soaked mani festo called Reservoir Dogs. Something was afoot. ''That was like a coming-out party,'' recalls Rockwell, 38. ''We all gravitated toward each other, and became really good friends.'' Someone made an offhand remark: Let's make a movie together.
That remark became Four Rooms. Rockwell had the idea: Bring together five young directors -- the original title was Five Rooms -- and ask each to write and direct a short film based on three simple rules: It's New Year's Eve, the setting is a Hollywood hotel, and there's got to be a bellboy. And Tarantino had the clout to get it made. Miramax bigwig Harvey Weinstein greenlighted the film as soon as Pulp Fiction took off.
For the fourth wheel, Tarantino roped in El Mariachi's low-budget whiz kid Robert Rodriguez; the fifth, Dazed and Confused's Richard Linklater, bowed out. When the auteurs finally met for a slumber party at Hollywood's Chateau Marmont, they stumbled upon a lucky coincidence: Despite their wildly different styles, each had written a black comedy. ''It's a f -- -ing miracle,'' says Anders. ''It was a testament to our warped sensibilities.''
Things got more warped during filming. The fab four shot separately and, in Rodriguez's words, ''just did whatever the hell we wanted.'' Rockwell directed wife Jennifer Beals, while she sat bound and gagged in a chair. Rodriguez worked with two hyperactive kids who had to zip off to their tutor in between bouts of trashing a suite. And Anders, whose segment features a coven of witches, staged a real witch party -- with candles, incense, chanting, and tarot cards -- to get her cast in the mood.
Short on time and cash -- the directors divvied up a paltry budget estimated at $5 million -- the team nonetheless found megastars willing to work for mini-bar peanuts. ''I said yes without even looking at the script,'' says Bruce Willis. ''I did it as a favor to my friend Quentin Tarantino.'' Same goes for Madonna, who, as one of the witches, required a special crew to squeeze her into a black rubber dress. The Material Girl was ''absolutely not a diva,'' Anders reports. ''She was really part of the ensemble.''
Only one person got to glimpse the whole shebang: Tim Roth, who plays the befuddled bellboy ushering viewers into each room -- and into each director's bizarro vision. ''It was quite an experiment,'' he deadpans. ''I got to work with all of them, and they're all crazy. Every single one.'' (Oct. 6)
BUZZ: It's a nutty idea...but it just might work; the Tarantino cult is sure to generate curiosity, and test screenings are said to have yielded the highest scores in Miramax's history.
