If you walk away with anything after watching the documentary Lost Soul, it’s that Richard Stanley is an artist and movie studios do not give a shit about artists. That really comes as no surprise (especially the latter), but listening to how the creative process was systematically stripped away by the studio is soul-crushing nonetheless. Lost Soul: The Doomed Journey of Richard Stanley’s Island of Dr. Moreau is a wholly depressing and funny doc that shows how Stanley went from cult genre genius to mentally unstable recluse at the hands of New Line Cinema.

After his cult hits Hardware and Dust Devil, the South African-born Stanley set about making his dream project: an adaptation of HG Wells’ 1896 book The Island of Dr. Moreau. He’d been fascinated by the book since he was a child and as he watched each subsequent film adaptation (1932, 1959, 1972, 1977), Stanley knew none of them got it right. Thanks to the buzz surrounding his indie efforts, he was able to get the backing of New Line with Marlon Brando locked down to play the titular doctor. There was only one problem, New Line was chasing Roman Polanski to direct.

In order to take back the reins, Stanley resorted to witchcraft. This dependence on sorcery (performed by a renowned British warlock, naturally) is just one of the fascinating avenues Lost Soul takes us down. Clashing egos, horrendous weather, actors fearing for their lives, New Line getting jitters, Stanley very nearly losing his mind – all of these snafus snowballed until finally Stanley was booted from the film. Not only that, he was contractually obligated to leave Australia or New Line didn’t have to pay him a dime. You can’t just brush off a son of a bitch who uses witchcraft and expect him to go quietly into the night though. How Stanley took their restraining order is…well, you’ll see.

The studio brought in Frankenheimer (Ronin) to finish the film and from the get-go, the director made it very clear he didn’t give two shits about “artistic vision.” He was there to do a job, art be damned. Once Frankenheimer steps in, Lost Soul begins to spin its wheels a little bit. Cast and crew express their dislike of him ad naseum. At least there are plenty of Brando anecdotes to go around! The tediousness of the Franenheimer bits are cut up nicely with tales of Brando’s legendary contempt for his profession. At this point in his career (he was just coming off of the colossal fuck up Don Juan DeMarco*), Brando really didn’t give a damn about bringing any sort of “craft” to his performances. This apathetic approach to acting makes for some hilarious stories though, and Lost Soul has plenty of yarns about the big man.

The movie that came out of this debacle, John Frankenheimer’s The Island of Dr. Moreau (1996), was universally panned and still considered by some to be one of the worst films ever made. There’s no doubt the movie’s an absolute mess, but personally I like a lot of things about it. Brando’s mini-me? C’mon, that little sucker’s awesome and that was all Brando’s idea. There’s a lot of brilliant and crazy moments in the film and I think it’s ripe for reassessment. Hopefully this doc will lead to just that.

Lost Soul is a severely engaging and entertaining documentary that provides loads of insight about the studio system and its biblical clashes with artists. It also reinforces a lot of garbage we already know about them. I could listen to Stanley talk for hours – the man is deeply enthralling, well-spoken, and has a brilliant artistic mind. The fact that he still hasn’t made a feature film (he has done docs and anthology segments) since the Moreau incident is genuinely depressing. Hopefully this doc brings a spark to him and shows him how much fans want him back behind the camera! Rally up the coven! Draw the blood of a virgin! Do whatever you have to do, just get directing again!

*though Brando’s gig right after Dr. Moreau is a doozie: The Brave, the only film directed by Johnny Depp. In it, Depp plays a Native American who Brando hires for a snuff film. Seriously, check this movie out if you can. It’s bonkers.