How exactly does a movie called Hot Tub Time Machine get made? Well, the story’s creator and lead writer, Josh Heald, is here to give Hollywood.com the scoop. Watch closely and you’ll see a fake-mustachioed Heald make a brief (like, really brief) appearance in Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay. Somehow, that made him qualified to write Hot Tub. Here, Josh lays down the history of how a film with a title that combined ‘Hot Tub’ with ‘Time Machine’ went from idea to release.
By Josh Heald
Hot Tub Time Machine. Say it with me again. Hot Tub Time Machine. There are two types of people in the world: Those that chuckle at the title and find themselves somewhere between guiltily intrigued and super excited about the movie, and wrong people. The second type of people are easy enough to spot. They’re just generally wrong about stuff. They told you to buy an HD-DVD instead of Blu-Ray, they prefer Equal to Sweet and Low, and they’re still rockin’ Crocs on the weekends.
The first group of people don’t know what’s wrong with the second group of people. It’s inevitable that our next Great War will be divided mostly down these lines. Brother against less funny brother. But before that day gets here, allow me to take you on a little journey. To a simpler time. A time before hot tubs that were time machines. Sure, there were hot tubs. And of course there were time machines. But in this place I’m taking you, they’ve never heard of a Hot Tub Time Machine.
The year was 2008. Google “Hot Tub Time Machine” and you get nothing. Not even a “did you mean…” Google response. It just flat out comes back empty, like you’re some kind of idiot for putting these words together in a search form and you should feel bad about yourself.
The first burning question I often get asked in regards to the screenplay is some version of “How the hell do you come up with something like that?” The answer is a mixture of nostalgia and background noise. I was sitting in producer Matt Moore’s office one day, talking about guilty pleasure ’80s comedies. For me, a child of the ’80s, comedies of this decade mainly fall into one of three categories: volleyball movies, films about different types of academies, and ski movies. I defy you to find a movie that doesn’t fit into one of these categories. (By the way, the first person to post a comment about how my previous sentence is erroneous – yeah, you’re in the second group of people.) Anyway, so we’re tossing out movies and Matt goes, “You know, someone should remake Hot Dog.” For those of you unfamiliar with Hot Dog, it goes something like this: American skier takes on Austrian skier, while the two of them fight over Shannon Tweed. How do we resolve this mess? A downhill race, of course. At the time, something called the L.A. Herald Examiner called it “Rocky Meets Animal House on skis.” Because that makes sense. That’s like calling something “The Blind Side meets Mall Cop on a houseboat.” By the way, I would see a football houseboat movie. Just putting it out there.
So anyway, Matt remarks that someone should remake Hot Dog. I mishear him, because of an air conditioner or someone walking by. I hear him say “Hot Tub.” Call it divine intervention, call it what you will. Well of course my response is, “There’s a movie called Hot Tub? I would totally remake that.” Now keep in mind that I have no authority to remake anything. And a movie called Hot Tub doesn’t even exist. But that’s all beside the point. I’m ready to remake this! This bodes well. Matt tells me, “No, Hot Dog,” and I get a little bummed, because I remember when I was a little fat kid in the ’80s and saw the title, Hot Dog, I really wanted the movie to be about hot dogs. I also got burned by Hamburger…The Motion Picture. But still, I saw where Matt was coming from. A ski comedy. But how to do it in a not-lame fashion? I didn’t want to write a spoof. I wanted to write a movie that would allow real characters to live within the reality that only exists at a 1980s ski resort. The other question was what decade to set it in. Writing a ski movie with ’80s leads is invariably going to end up going down a schlocky road. But writing a ski movie set in the present day wouldn’t afford the same type of comedy without being inauthentic to the era. I was at a crossroads. If only there was a way to set it in both times. Some sort of time machine. A Hot Tub Time Machine.
It’s really as ridiculous as that. So far, I had a title that made me laugh and not a hell of a lot more. Throughout the beginning of 2008, I would occasionally break out the title among friends and explain to them this loose concept I was working on. “You see, there would be this hot tub, but it’s also a time machine…” My friends are used to my ridiculous sense of humor, but even they looked at me like I had two heads. I knew I was onto something. Over the next few months, I honed in on the characters and the story. This could be a real adventure. With real stakes. It just so happens that there’s a hot tub time machine in the middle of it all. That became the key to unlocking the earliest iterations of the story – allow the hot tub time machine to be ridiculous. And acknowledge that it’s ridiculous, because it’s never not going to be ridiculous, and let’s see how much emotional weight the tub can support. Surprisingly, a lot more than I thought.
The second burning question people always ask is, “What the hell was the pitch meeting like when Hot Tub Time Machine got sold?” I wish it was a crazier story. I wish there was blackmail or other nefarious business practices involved. There’s probably a version of the story where a movie executive has a vendetta against his bosses and buys the film for the purpose of bringing down the organization – and perhaps bringing about the complete destruction of the entertainment business as we know it. It was actually a very normal meeting. It was May 2008. I had an extremely detailed outline for the screenplay, a lot of which is represented on screen. It was early in the week when I met with MGM, who completely understood the potential for this movie. They snapped it up and told me to get to work on the script. Twelve weeks later, I handed them the first draft – and at that point, the project moved into overdrive. The name Cusack came up and before long, we had a director. And a killer cast. And a green light. I had written Rob Corddry’s role specifically for him, so I was especially thrilled when he loved the script and came aboard. And Craig Robinson and Clark Duke could not have been more hilarious and perfectly cast.
Taking into account how difficult it is to get a movie made in the studio system, I cherish all the things that went so right with this project. From the first moment, the tone and intent was embraced and supported and even elevated. John Cusack, Chevy Chase, Crispin Glover… The Karate Kid’s Billy Zabka! I grew up watching these guys’ movies. Voraciously. I can throw multiple quotes at you from all of their classics. And now I can tell you that I’ve spent a few hours in a ski lodge, chatting fireside with Crispin about his early experiences in the industry. John Cusack and I have looked at each other with wonderment and marveled at the fact that “we’re making a movie called Hot Tub Time Machine.” And let’s just say I never thought I’d be able to talk shop with Billy, who once haunted my dreams and personified what it meant to be a bully – the man my generation holds in high esteem and has bestowed the moniker “’80s Asshole.” I keep telling people about all the conversations and experiences I’ve checked off my bucket list. It was an embarrassment of ’80s riches.
So where does this leave us? Well, about 22 months after that initial Google search turned up zilch, there are now 1.3 million search results. Articles, sound boards, t-shirts, Facebook groups, music videos, Tweets, other things I’m not cool enough to understand… It’s overwhelming and amazing just how much the public has embraced and anticipated this movie. And I’ve gotta tell you – I’m just as excited as the rest of you. I’ll be there on March 26 with my popcorn and my Sour Patch Kids and my Whoppers (hey, it’s my first movie, I’m allowed to have two candies if I want!). And I hope to see you there. Because I’m assuming you’re in the first group of people.
