Free Heaven and Mel (Kindle Single) by Joe Eszterhas

They're all looking for Jesus — they just don't know it."
    * * * *
    HE TRASHES PEOPLE ALL THE TIME.
    Of his co-writer on "The Passion," Benedict Fitzgerald, he says, "He can't write. I wrote that whole script. And then he had the balls to sue me for more money! I'm the best thing that ever happened to him."
    Of Randall Wallace, who wrote "Braveheart" and has worked on other films with him: "He's a loser. He's worthless. He wouldn't have a career without me."
    Of Brian Helgeland, who wrote and directed "Payback" and wrote "Edge of Darkness": "I got him his first directing job and he turned on me. He's an ingrate. He used me."
    Of James Carroll, Catholic author and a columnist for The Boston Globe: "He's a grade-A number one asshole!"
    Of Philip Anschutz, the head of Walden Media: "They fucked me in the ass. They ripped me off. He's supposed to be a great Christian."
    Of his longtime and loyal publicity manager Alan Nierob: "Don't ever mention his wig to him. It's the ugliest wig anyone has ever seen. He's a fucking pussy. When his sister died, I literally had to hold him in my arms."
    The only person I hear him praise is the director Dick Donner, with whom he did five films.
    Donner, an underrated director and a nice man, also once said, "I have a bust of Abraham Lincoln in my office. And it's not because of the greatness he did for our country. It's because whenever I look at it, I have to remember that an actor killed him."
    * * * *
    I NOTICE AS WE SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER that Mel never asks any questions about me, my life, my career, my wife, my father, my divorce, or my children.
    He talks about himself. Obsessively. About Oksana and Robyn. About his problems. About his custody and court issues. But he never asks a question about my life.
    There are no newspapers or magazines in his house. The television is never on. And he has trouble going on the Internet; he asks Naomi for help. He watches old movies, often one of his own.
    * * * *
    WE BUY MEL a Cleveland Indians baseball cap at Kitson's in Malibu. I have a vast collection of Cleveland Indians ball caps, but I've never seen this one. I really like it.
    When we give it to him, he thanks us and puts it up on a peg in the kitchen. Sensational! The Indians Wahoo cap has now become a flag in Mel Gibson's Malibu house.
    I remember seeing a photograph of him wearing a ball cap and a fake nose and glasses in a magazine once, and when I give him the Indians cap I say, "Promise me. If you ever need to wear a ball cap as a disguise again, wear this Indians one and please forget the fake nose and glasses."
    He grins and says, "Okay, I promise."
    * * * *
    HE VIEWS HIMSELF AS A HEALER .
    When Naomi is out of the room Mel says to me, "I've got this enema kit upstairs. It cleans all the poison and shit out of you. It's better than a colonic. I'll hook you up if you want. An hour later you're done. Clean as a whistle."
    I thank him. It's very nice of him to offer to hook me up personally to his enema kit.
    Thank you, but no thank you!
    "You sure?" he says. "You just sit there and you shit and shit and shit and you can't believe what comes out of you! It's like black sludge! And it smells so bad! It reeks!"
    Mel smiles and says to me, "Come on, let's go upstairs, I'll hook you up."
    * * * *
    HE'S TALKING ABOUT THE WORK he does in Guatemala with doctors, helping a medical team with children.
    Naomi says to him, "I'm sure it puts your perspective in order. When you see suffering children, you think, 'Who cares what they write about me?'"
    Mel looks wide-eyed and says, "Exactly."
    I wonder for a moment if he's trying to emulate Sean Penn in Haiti and Angelina in Bosnia. I wonder if he's aspiring to sainthood to hide his sins, to avoid public disfavor.
    But I don't think that's true. I think he means it. He loves children and he's always had a love affair with Mexico and Latin America.
    I'm sure that at least some of the teachings of Jesus have rubbed off on him.
    * * * *
    WE'RE GOING TO