In the tradition of such classic mockumentaries about the secret lives of rock stars (Spinal Tap), political candidates(Bob Roberts) and rappers (Fear of A Black Hat) comes...And God Spoke, the inside story of how anyone can make it in the movies. With tongue firmly set in cheek, first-time filmmaker Arthur Borman lovingly sends up a Hollywood in which even the sins of out-of-control egos, budgets and ambitions can't stop the star-struck from attaining the heavens.

... And God Spoke is a Live Entertainment presentation of a Brookwood Entertainment production, directed by Arthur Borman. The film stars Michael Riley and Stephen Rappaport and is produced by Mark Borman and Richard Raddon. The screenplay is by Gregory S. Malins and Michael Curtis based on a Story by Arthur and Mark Borman.

Production of the faux feature "...And God Spoke" turns out to be a comedy of divine errors. "Marvin and Clive are people we've known and worked for for years," says director Arthur Borman. Borman came to his first feature after several stints as a production assistant on big-budget films, as did his brother Mark and close friend Richard Raddon (who together produced ... And God Spoke.) The trio emerged from the hell of motion picture production with satire burning inside them.

"We've witnessed it all: the chaos, the compromises, the concessions, the ego battles, the way productions seem to get way over budget, way over schedule, way out of hand," says Arthur Borman. "We wanted to poke fun at our bosses but, at the same time- show how much we've learned from them."

The brothers were determined to lift the celluloid curtain and reveal the side of Hollywood nobody ever sees, the side that has not been sanitized for public broadcast, the side that scares away thousands of young hopefuls like themselves... with good reason.

Obviously, they wanted to make a documentary. But even a documentary might not reveal the full scope of insanity that infects those who want to make a career out of making movies. To reveal it all, the brothers knew they would have to create characters who could stand as composites of all the excessively-educated, under-prepared, over-wrought directors and producers they had known.

Those composites turned out to be Clive Walton and Marvin Handelman, two hopeless B-movie hacks with big-budget dreams. Clive is interested in art, Marvin in money but neither has the slightest idea how to go about making either one. That's why they turn to the greatest motion picture vehicle in history, the Bible. If it worked for Cecil B. DeMille, why not them? "We chose a Bible epic for the film within the film because everybody already knows the story," explains Arthur Borman. "This way, when you see they only have eight disciples you know there are budget problems."

The comedy came quickly as the trio recalled their own production experiences -- replete with fables of P.A.s who lost prints and producers who lost their minds. But as they created the story, they also realized they were dissecting the whole filmmaking process -- everything from the kookiness of caterers to the importance of grips -- for people who might never have seen it up close.

"When you sit in a theater and see hundreds of credits rolling by, you might have no idea what a best boy or a foley walker does," says Arthur Borman. "In a way, this is a film that shows how films are really made."

The film is also about the sheer guts that bring glory in the movie business, Richard Raddon adds. "Sure we take our shots at the industry," he says. "You can't help but laugh at the crazy compromises Marvin and Clive make, but you also have to admire guys like them for their passion. In the end, you root for them to succeed."

Pure passion in the face of chaos and compromise is something with which Raddon and the Bormans are now intimately familiar. Unlike the fortunate Clive Walton and Marvin Handelman, the brothers were not bequeathed with studio financing. They had to beg and borrow from the start. Indeed, the Bormans recall, in a scene not unlike the one Clive endures, "we even had one relative give us a salami."

Much of the film's financing came from "yacht-owning, cigar-chomping, Ferrari-driving" country clubbers in their mother's hometown of Miami, who were wooed with Hollywood dreams and a few little mentions of beautiful actresses. "Most of the people who gave us money didn't have the faintest idea what we were doing," admits Mark Borman. "But they liked the idea that it was a movie."

When it came to casting the leads, the filmmakers were again in a similar position as their fictional counterparts -- they needed to find total unknowns of exceptional abilities. "We needed people to believe that these could be actual filmmakers, to question whether or not they were real," says Mark Borman.

Adds Arthur Borman: "We wanted actors so good that people would ask themselves half way through the film, 'how come I never heard of this producer or director?"

Casting director Mary Claire Sweeters scoured comedy clubs and hole in the wall theaters searching for a team who could improvise, act natural and be ever so slyly satirical at the same time. Over one thousand actors auditioned until the production found their pair in Stephen Rappaport and Michael Riley. Rappaport was discovered doing a one-man show in San Francisco, while Riley just happened to read for the part on the last day of auditions.

Ironically, the filmmakers subsequently found out that Michael Riley is a notable celebrity in Canada, where he has appeared in several popular features and television productions. "People started to say 'Oh, Michael Riley he's great' and we began to worry. But in the end, he got so into the role, you believe him," says Arthur Borman. The cameo actors -- many drawn from the 70s TV shows that today's young filmmakers grew up worshipping -- were equally committed to being just a touch more than themselves.

Production was fast and furious. Living in a one room apartment throughout the shoot -- crammed with equipment, crew members, script revisions and more -- the filmmakers were as busy dodging their landlord as they were setting up shots.

Fortunately, things were better on the set than they were at home, even though the challenge was enormous for a first film. "We actually ended up making two films: a 35mm Biblical epic and a super 16mm documentary," explains Mark Borman. "The documentary style was extremely effective for what we were trying to accomplish; we could shoot five times as fast because we didn't have to lock down the camera for every shot. Though it was scripted, we shot it as if it no one knew what was going to happen."

In fact cinematographer Lee Daniel (who shot the acclaimed documentary "Slacker" as well as the feature "Dazed and Confused") knew exactly what he was doing as he playfully put together an assemblage of "shaky camera, snap zoom ins, pull outs, that kind of stuff." The result is one film that feels like an authentically rough documentary, and another that looks like an incredibly slick bad movie. 

In the end, the real production of ... And God Spoke had a distinct advantage over the fake production it was spoofing. "We'd learned our lessons well," explains Arthur Borman. "As P.A.s we had seen where others had made their mistakes and we were determined not to repeat them."

And, in a move that would have Clive Walton and Marvin Handelman salivating in envy, the production came in on time and under budget!

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