Filmmaker Josh Becker has passed away at the age of 67. I didn’t just know Josh through his films or connection to the Evil Dead franchise. I knew him through conversation, collaboration, and generosity. He was extensively interviewed for my book, Sheldon Lettich: From Vietnam to Van Damme. He also wrote an unpublished foreword for the project, an act that speaks volumes about who he was. He gave his time, his insight, and his encouragement freely, without ego or expectation.
Becker came out of the same Michigan filmmaking scene that produced Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, and the late Scott Spiegel, who just passed away a few months ago. They were a group of artists who proved that determination and imagination could outweigh money and connections.
Josh was never interested in mythology or self-promotion, speaking about filmmaking as a craft, something learned through doing, failing, adjusting, and trying again. That practical, grounded approach defined both his career and his personality.
He was born in Detroit, Michigan, on August 17, 1958. His fascination with cinema began early, and as a teenager, he made Super-8 short films with Raimi, Campbell, Spiegel, and many others. Becker left high school at sixteen, earned his GED, and attended several colleges before moving to Los Angeles at seventeen.
His work may not have reached the heights of those he came up with, but films like Lunatics: A Love Story (1991), Alien Apocalypse (2005), and Thou Shalt Not Kill…Except (1985) (for which he collaborated with filmmaker Sheldon Lettich on the script) are now beloved cult classics. Running Time (1997), an ambitious crime thriller that starred longtime pal Bruce Campbell, is criminally underrated. It was filmed as if it were a single continuous shot.
He also dipped his toes into the television arena, directing and writing episodes of hit shows like Xena: Warrior Princess, Hercules, and Jack of All Trades. Josh authored several books of his own about working in the business, like Going Hollywood, Rushes, and The Complete Guide to Low-Budget Feature Filmmaking, which, along with Robert Rodriguez’s Rebel without a Crew, were quintessential reads for indie filmmakers getting started in the 1990’s and 2000’s.
My conversations with Josh mostly revolved around Sheldon Lettich’s career. The two met when they were both just getting started in the business, and their friendship would last the rest of their lives. I found him to be highly intelligent; he really knew film, told great stories, and was hysterically funny. I really treasured those talks, and we did ramble on a bit off the record.
I made sure he knew just how much I loved his short film, Cleveland Smith: Bounty Hunter (1982). It is often credited to his pal Sam Raimi (who is a riot in the movie as a Nazi), but it was a collaboration between Josh and Scott Spiegel. Spiegel produced, and Josh would be in the director’s chair. In addition to Raimi as an actor, Bruce Campbell was the star in the Indiana Jones parody.
Sheldon and I approached Josh about writing a foreword to our book. He took the assignment seriously, sent it to us, but ultimately it wasn’t exactly what we were looking for at the time. Re-reading it now, I wish we had worked it in somehow. It was written as a phone conversation between him and Sheldon, with Josh trying to convince Sheldon to write a book about his life and career.
Josh Becker, from an unpublished foreword written for Sheldon Lettich: From Vietnam to Van Damme:
“Well,” I finished up, “if I’d done half the shit you’ve done, I’d sure as hell write about it.”
Finally considering the idea for a moment, Sheldon said, “A writer wrote a very good article about Lionheart recently. Let me ask him what he thinks. Maybe he’ll be interested.”
“Good.” Sheldon didn’t think my idea was worthless bullshit, a rarity in and of itself.
“But now,” Sheldon happily said, “I have to attend my seventieth birthday party that my beautiful wife and daughters are throwing for me.”
Since I felt sure he honestly didn’t think his life was all that interesting and he would probably ignore my suggestion, I wished him a happy birthday and we hung up.
Lo and behold, a few days later the writer, Corey Danna, called me. I enthusiastically pitched him Sheldon’s life, most of which he didn’t know, and he totally agreed that it was a story worth telling.
Thus, here we are.
When I read that, I couldn’t help but feel that if Josh hadn’t pushed the idea on Sheldon, I may have never had the opportunity to work on the book I’m so very proud of. For that, I’ll be forever grateful.
We never met in person, but I value the time I did get to talk with him. He was a unique voice in film that may have been overlooked at times, but I think now, we should all take a moment to be thankful for his contributions and never forget that Josh Becker was the real deal.
Rest in Peace, Josh Becker. May you live on through your family, friends, and the legacy of your work.
