Kiss Me Quick Before I Shoot is a memoir about magic: the magic of making films and the magic of finding true love. If you love movies and you’re a romantic at heart, this is your dream book.
“For me, there is no more magical a professional endeavor than making films,” says Guy Magar. With production work spanning over 100 credits from shorts to TV shows to feature films, Guy Magar’s behind-the-scenes stories range from his first producer turning out to be a Mafia assassin, to shooting in Egypt for the original series Battlestar Galactica, to directing a grunting Mr. T on The A-Team, to almost decapitating a young Drew Barrymore, and coming close to derailing James Cameron’s career (or slowing it down as he proved way too talented for anyone to alter his storied destiny!)
Kiss me quick before I shoot was Guy’s welcoming catchphrase to his wife Jacqui whenever she visited on-set, seemingly always just before he rolled cameras. And so this book is also about a deeper magic, the magic of finding your soulmate, your life partner.
But then, out of the blue, after 26 years into their marriage, Jacqui was diagnosed with leukemia. Guy put his film career on hold and his entire 24-hour life focus became to find the right, new cutting-edge treatment to heal Jacqui.
This book is about daring to dream…and making dreams come true. Join Guy on a wild and thrilling rollercoaster ride as he shares the behind the curtain reveal of a Hollywood directing career, the intoxicating highs of finding and sharing true love, and the sweet triumph of survival and healing, all rolled into a unique and engaging memoir read which will become a favorite to curl up with (hot chocolate required) and to recommend to all your friends.
Written by Guy Magar – From his memoir KISS ME QUICK BEFORE I SHOOT: A Filmmaker’s Journey into the Lights of Hollywood and True Love
One morning, during Jacqui’s chemo treatment for aml-leukemia, she had been taken for X-rays early before I arrived for my 10-hour daily visit. When I got to her room, the nurse told me to wait and they would bring her back within an hour. An hour? I asked where the imaging department was and she told me it was complicated to go there as it was in another building down the street. Jacqui had been taken through a connecting underground tunnel, not accessible to the public. She advised, “Please be practical, wait here. She’ll be back shortly.”
I lasted three minutes. I’m not an alarmist or a worrywart. I just found it unnecessary for Jacqui to be alone at imaging and silly for me to just wait in her room like a putz. What followed reminded me of a scene from The Graduate where Dustin Hoffman is running like a maniac to find the girl (Katherine Ross) before it’s too late and she marries someone else. I started running down hallways on different floors till I reached reception. I was told Cedars-Sinai imaging was indeed across the street. I ran outside, crossed the street, almost got run over, and ran down a block into a medical building that had a crowded lobby. It was well guarded, with security guys by every door. I knew they would never let me inside and I didn’t bother asking or pleading with the front desk. I was so committed that when opportunity soon struck and a guard got distracted long enough for me to slip by, I James Bonded through the double doors that read NO ENTRY.
I started opening doors, peeking into rooms like a mad person. I reached doors with signs that read WARNING – RADIATION, and I was now terrified of opening a door at just the wrong moment when some giant X-ray beam would zap me and my testicles would fall off. But I was a man on a mission and could not be stopped as I moved from hallway to hallway. I was sure I was seconds away from being stopped by a security guard who would find me through the surveillance cameras, which were everywhere. He’d run in and just shoot me—shoot the crazy intruder!
Finally, kismet struck. I opened a door and saw rows of gurneys in a waiting room, but all I could see were their bottom halves because curtains separated each patient, leaving just the sight of a series of bare feet sticking out of robes. And then I saw them, like beacons flashing: one pair of feet wearing bright red socks, the same socks I had washed at home the previous day and had brought back to Jacqui. And sure enough, just like in the movies, I raced in and followed the red socks, and found my baby. I had found the needle in a radiated haystack! Her face lit up and she gave me her million-dollar smile. She told me she was done with her X-ray, but they were backed up with patients waiting to be returned to their rooms. She whispered, “Get me out of here!”
I raced to find the orderly and begged him to move her. I haltingly told him I almost got my balls zapped off looking for her in this Frankensteinish radiation building. He laughed, grabbed her chart, pulled her gurney out of a waiting line (sorry, folks), and we headed back to her room.
I had found the red socks. I was Dustin Hoffman. I got my girl back!