Blackened Big Fish: The Dark Side Of Hollywood

"Blackened Big Fish: The dark side of Hollywood and the people who thrive there." If, in my current mood, I decided to write one this would be the title of my tell-all. There is a morbid, borderline pornographic fascination with movie stars that with each new headline appears unquenchable. I don't understand the curiosity unless it's used as a comparison that reassures us mortals that our lives are better off as is.

Do we need to know "Mel B hired a witch doctor to get Eddie Murphy back?", that "Keith Urban cheated on Nicole while they were engaged", that "Cris Judd isn't mad at ex-wife Jennifer Lopez?" Do we really need to know that Brittany Spears parties without panties? (Apparently, and according to Google, we do)

Now (those of you left) can point fingers and say I am writing about Hollywood so I'm guilty by association. Perhaps I am. But I have tried to stay in the realm of the positive, the uplifting, the creative. Well, the last month or so, I have gone to the dark side. And this is why there has been a dearth of writing. I suppose 'dearth' would be an exaggeration since it implies a shortage.

I also suppose it's ironic that the day before the largest holiday in the western world I finally had the time to write a post but the subject is not spiked with Christmas Cheer. (That by itself puts a Grinchian smile on my face.)

My instinct says the dark side always leaves a scar so I have stayed away from it for several months. But the Reel Hollywood wouldn't be real without a few stormy nights. And the truth is I do have some scars after this long in the business. On the lighter side I see an end to this particular gloomy night inside of the next two months. The challenge will be to walk on those two coals without getting burned. And the challenge is probably good for the ego. I think it's ultimately cleansing for the soul but not a helluva a lot of fun while you're doing it.

Without names I can tell you I am working for the devil and his mentor-father. They are despotic filmmakers whose fate has propelled them to such heights that they cannot be brought down unless divine intervention prevails. I know it sounds dizzyingly melodramatic but that's Hollywood. And right now these guys are at the top of the heap.

These are snakes appearing as men. With two heads, one can charm while the other can spray venom accurately into the face and eyes of their hires. Their need for acting like mean, unpredictable alcoholics is likely rooted in their insecurity. Their biggest fear, I would guess, is that their peers discover they have no inate talent.

So how did they get there? Beats me unless the definition of inate talent includes the ability to fool masses of people. In that they excel. These are not dumb luck fools. They know how to hire expendable creatives. They know how to talk and act like real filmmakers. The world is their oyster (whatever that means) and people would kill to work with them. Now that's irony.

The good thing (for me) is I don't wish them ill will. My recent go-round left me with a bruised ego and the gut nausea feeling like I wanted to throw up for a day. Had I not offered to walk, things may have gotten worse. (I was later offered an apology by one of the producers) Still these guys are like dead bees - they can still sting and that is where the challenge lies. To walk on the ground barefooted and avoid the deadbees. That means to go in each day not knowing anything based on prior knowledge. Today can be a neutral day or an explosive one.

On the plus side I am being paid top dollar to work with these guys which is Hollywood's way of assuaging its guilt. (If it is possible for Hollywood to feel guilt) Therefore I have only myself to blame. Actually I am being overpaid by my usual fees. And according to my friend who knows these guys - "You aren't being overpaid for nothing."

On the bright side we're gonna have a helluva Christmas. I know, I know.... It's about the spirit of giving, reaching out to old friends, giving to strangers and feeling the love of hummankind. As I write my two girls are seated on the couch and playing together like a couple of angels in the manger. And as god is my witness I hope they never end up in Hollywood.

Happy Chanukah. Merry Christmas. Seriously. Happy Holidays.

Portnoy

Good Morning Chief Bromden

Lately it's been a lot of staring into space with no payoff from space. I am staring for an idea. To the outsider I probably look like BROMDEN.

My wife asks if I can pop in 3 waffles as she hurriedly readies the girls for school. I have not written in days. I would like to tell her I'm busy staring into space waiting for a post.

What passes through my mind is the following excerpt from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

INT. MEN'S DORM - OREGON STATE HOSPITAL - DAWN

Strange HUMMING SOUNDS, CLANKING PIPES and HISSING RADIATORS
as we see beds, with patients lying asleep, line two walls.
The third wall is a heavy gauge steel grill, with a door that
opens on to the day room. The door is open. On the far side
of the day room, a long hallway with other doors opening into
rooms: the latrine, washroom, tub room, mess hall, seclusion
room, psychiatrist's office, visitors' room, etc.

Across the day room, a glass enclosed nurses' station where
TURKLE, a Negro night attendant, is seen preparing to go off
duty.

The CAMERA PANS the beds in the men's dorm. One man turns,
another twists, a third lies as if dead.

CAMERA PAN ENDS on BROMDEN, who lies still, eyes wide open,
very alert. He reaches down, plucks a stale piece of gum from
under the bed frame, puts it in his mouth and starts chewing.

Maybe some gum would help. The wife and kids have left. It's quiet now. No excuses. If we had a clock it would be ticking to distraction. The time is dragging me towards work. I could lie to myself. If I only had enough time I could write the best damn post ever. BUZZ says the BS detector in my head. 'No, really,' BUZZZ. 'Stop calling me a liar!' BUZZ. Okay, uncle.

Why do kids say 'Uncle'? I should google that.

What's wrong with this picture?

I am now the Head of a major motion picture studio. It is my job to greenlight movies and television. I have unlimited funds but I am also responsible to the shareholders. The stories, the cast, the music, the final say is entirely up to me. This is what I would do.

I would hire 5 full time writer consultants. And these would be very experienced writers who have a track record in creating a traditional 3 act screenplay. These writers would read and comment on the top scripts that are in development/submission process. Remember the guys who chased Butch and Sundance? Those are the guys I would hire. And they would be paid handsomely. They would be happy, funny and crotchety all at the same time.

Before shooting any film the script would be in perfect working order. Meaning exactly that. Could they be modified in shooting? Possibly if the direction or character takes on a life of its own.

I have 15 shooting stages on my lot. I would keep them all busy with films of modest budgets. Every film would include a budget for additional shooting.

I would make one blockbuster (tentpole) film a year. (with a script that is in perfect working order)

I would create an internship program that finds new talent in every area of film making and hook these 'kids' up with the departments they are interested in.

I would create a documentary film boutique and a vanity film department. The vanity films would be the projects that are difficult to make but close to the heart of the film maker. To participate in a vanity project the filmmaker would need a proven track record. I would make sure the vanity film offers participation to every key player involved in the film since everyone takes a huge hit to their usual salaries.

I would create an animation department and get Miyazaki to run it even if we had to buy an animation studio in Japan.

I would cultivate foreign films and filmmakers like never before.

I would rein in A list salaries by offering legitimate participation. I would also create an in house casting department where actors are found through legit theatre and other venues. There would be a secret motto in my casting department. It would say something like this "we don't hire models, we hire actors" I would offer Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Reese Witherspoon, Angelina Jolie and actors of quality extra incentives. They could make any vanity project they wanted.

I would take a reasonable but not ridiculous amount of money to run the studio.

Once production starts the studio would take a hands off approach to the film maker. Let directors direct with all of the creative powers they have. If a film isn't working it is our fault because the script didn't work in the first place.

For the TV department I would hire WC Dixon, Dennis McGrath, Ken Levine and anyone else they wanted except Aaron Sorkin. (Just kidding boys)

So that's my idea on how to save the film business. Create a company where people love coming to work on movies that just might say a little something. Or not. Comments certainly welcome. If I get any major studio offers I will also get those 5 writers to contribute to Reel Hollywood.

As a side note - at my Mom's Thanksgiving dinner she has a friend who is a cop. He came by on his motorcycle, in full uniform. He ate with us. I mentioned the Chris Rock video on how not to get your ass kicked by the police. He laughed and said it was awesome. At the end of the meal he quoted from the Rock video. And I wish I had a video camera because you would have seen an East Indian motorcycle cop saying "He got weed, he got weed!"

Follow Up to Reel Judaism

Because it makes me smile, AND scratch my head.... Zen Wizard, this one's for you. (Thanks to my friend Rob for sending this my way.)

Reel Judaism Sunday

I have dabbled in Buddhism and Jewish mysticism. Both practices appeal to me although I am both a bad jew and a bad Buddhist. Anyway, because I found Winkler's latest newsletter so appealing I wanted to share it. This is their website. Walkingstick.Org

MUCH ADO ABOUT EVERYTHING...
from Gershon

They say we are living in uncertain times. I say, with certainty, that there has never been a moment in human history when things were not uncertain. Every moment is uncertain, unknown. I could die of an aneurysm while writing this, or worse: experience a power outage. Being conscientious about how unpredictable and uncertain life really is, helps us to not set ourselves up for disappointment, and not get cardiac arrests when well-meaning friends throw us a Surprise Party at 85. More importantly, on a deeper level, it helps us cherish every moment, and make the best of our time, our time with our loved ones, our time with our work.

I myself don't have the luxury of being conscientious of the preciousness of my time here, busy as I am reminding everyone else how THEY should be more conscientious of THEIR time here. But that's my job. That's my personal excuse for being here and for doing what I do. We all need some excuse for living. Other-wise, we would be wracked with guilt beyond any guilt we'd ever otherwise experience. Life is so awesome, that who we are and what we do pales in comparison to the value of the gift that life is and that life offers us in every moment.

Then again, you and I, we never asked to be put here. So why feel guilty for living and thus having to drum up some lame excuse for the favor of existing? Exactly. We don't owe nobody nothin' and what we do gift to others and to the ever-elusive Creator of the ever-puzzling Universe is purely altruistic, from the goodness of our hearts, our own sweet, unadulterated volition. Like the ancient rabbis quote God as saying: "I owe my creations nothing, not even their very existence, yet I gift to them abundantly." So same here with you, me. We owe nothing to our being here since we never asked to exist, to begin with, and therefore the value of what we give back is immeasurable.

Take pride, then, in what you bring to this world, to this life, whether in meaningfulness or in aiding and abetting the lives of others. Take pride in every sandwich you make for someone other than your self, and in every time you pass the local bank without robbing it, or every time you are inspired to yell at your kids and you don't. Get more in touch with the benefactor you actually are even if you never gave a penny to any charitable organization or participated in a Peace march. To the world you might be an apathetic miser, but in the eyes of God you are a saint, just for that one time or two that you microwaved a dinner for someone, or made someone smile, made someone feel good about themself. Do not underestimate the degree of your righteousness, the value of what you have accomplished in your life hitherto and forevermore.

The ancient rabbis again and again emphasized this important lesson with stories of pimps and thieves who were considered more righteous than the righteously righteous just because they did one or two really nice things for others. In one such story recorded in the ancient Jerusalem Talmud (1:4 [or folio 5b]), a miracle-working rabbi is asked to pray for rain during a season of severe drought, but to no avail. He prays and prays and prays until he develops a migraine, when finally a heavenly voice says to him: "Go seek out Pentakakus the Pimp, for his prayer for rain shall be heard." The rabbi is pissed at such a suggestion but he looks for this Pentakakus fellow in the Red Light District of ancient Israel and when he finds him implores him to please pray for rain. The pimp prays for rain and it rains immediately. The rabbi, of course, is curious as to why someone of such ill-repute can succeed where he couldn't in bringing down the miraculous rain, and so he interrogates the guy. The pimp finally 'fesses that once this woman came to him pleading that he accept her into his brothel. He tried talking her out of it because she just did not seem like she was really really into it. But she persists, cries, weeps, pleads, begs. He realizes she's desperate and asks her why. She explains that she needs the money to redeem her imprisoned husband from the Roman authorities. The pimp then removes his expensive cloak as well as his expensive blankets and pillows and gives it to the woman and says: "Here, take these and sell them and redeem your husband."

The rabbi gets it. Do you? Do I? Can we please remind ourselves that we are so sweet and good and wonderful, that we have already accomplished so darn much in our lives worth not only our existence, but even a couple of reincarnations into more lucrative circumstances? How about an all-expenses-paid cruise next time, or pre-paid health insurance?

Another ancient Jewish teaching goes simply like this: "God says 'Just do, and whatever it is that you find to do, it is pleasing to Me'" (Babylonian Talmud, B'cho'ro't, folio 17b). Not much is asked of us other than we try and do our best now and then, and be a little creative about it. Like, when you microwave a dinner for someone, remove the wrapper for them and put the food on a nice dish for them. When you offer to make someone a sandwich, also ask them if they want something to drink with it. Very easy.

"If you decide to give to the poor," goes another teaching, "and you actually give to the poor, God rewards you for deciding and for giving. If you decide to give to the poor and then realize you don't have the means to do so, God rewards you for deciding and also as if you had actually given" (Midrash Sif'ri on D'varim 15:10). Or as the First-Century Rabbi Tar'fon put it: "The work is not upon you to complete; and neither are you exempt from trying" (Babylonian Talmud, Avot, 2:16). Even in religious matters, the ancient laid-back rabbis like the revered Second-Century Rabbi Yish'ma'el taught similarly: "Accept not upon your-self the fulfillment of the entire Torah, but also do not abstain from her altogether" (Babylonian Talmud, Avot D'Rebbe Natan 27:2). Or as his disciples would later paraphrase his teaching: "Let not the Torah be upon you like an obligation, nor shall you abstain from her" (Babylonian Talmud, Menachot 99b).

Gift of life? Gift of existence? Both are great. Awesome. Cool. But bottom-line let's not forget the most important gift of all. You. You and what you bring to it all.

And not just on Chanukah.

Gershon Winkler is both a renowned scholar as well as a rabbinic trickster. He has authored eleven books, including seven works on Jewish mysticism, philosophy, and folklore, and was initiated in 1978 by the late kabbalist Rabbi Eliezer Benseon of Jerusalem. For the past twenty years he has lived very close to the earth in remote wilderness regions and currently resides at the Walking Stick Retreat Center as its caretaker.

Tags:
Rabbi Gershon Winkler, Walkingstick.Org, Jews For Buddhism

Portnoy and the Pong Bitch

At work there is a ping pong table. The guy I play with is called The "Pong Bitch". He played so much on his last movie, and beat everyone doing it, they made a bumper sticker for him. I am out to beat the Pong Bitch into submission. So far I'm at 3 wins 17 losses.

You know I have said I have been mistaken for Richard Gere? Now I want to be mistaken for the player in the background.

Happy ThanksGiving. If you don't celebrate ThanksGiving, or know anything about it - it's a holiday warm up to Christmas where you gather with your relatives and pretend to like each other.

Blog, Frog, Dawg, Egg Nog. James Cromwell

As I watch the sitemeter decrescendo I am reminded that a new post would be a good thing. The title may be misleading but those are the words streaming through my head as I won't admit to writer's blogk. Truly the new job is consuming a lot of creative energy. For those who are visiting for the first time I would encourage you to check out the stories that are boxed in the sidebar.

It's been so busy I couldn't make the "Iraq in Fragments" screening. The new job is quite interesting but I can't say much about it. It's a film that is so controversial I wonder how much of it will be sanitized by the large corporation that is distributing the thing. But onto Cromwell.

Last week we met some friends for dinner at, what I consider, the best Indian food in Los Angeles. It's called The Clay Pit. The way we were seated I had the 'John Wayne' chair. For those who don't know what that means, it's the chair with its back against the wall which enables Wayne to spot any badguys he might need to shoot. From my vantage point I spotted James Cromwell two tables away. He was dining with - I would guess - his son because there was a younger Cromwell prototype with that... Profitable Cromwell proboscis.


We were well into a bottle of wine and I was feeling pretty, pretty puerile. I rarely drink. But feeling happy I concocted a little plan. I started thinking of movies and various lines that my wife would know. (And she knows quite a lot) Thus I would try to tell a little story and get her to fill in the blank. And she's quite good at that. There are times I will call her and ask her some IMDB question. She answers and I hang up so I can carry on with whatever conversation I'm having.

Part of my plan included goading her about something silly, like how she never gives me credit for editing her poetry - and she admits that to our friends. But, she reminds me, I never credit her for her jokes so I cop to that. Only I am purposely trying to drive her voice a little louder. Just a couple of notches. The wine helps. She is already a few decibels louder. Now I stir gently. You don't wanna boil the milk (or mix the metaphors) I poke, I prod and then I ask, "Hey, what's that line at the end of Babe, the Pig movie?. Is it, 'Nice Pig? or Good job Pig?' And she loudly puts me in my place with "That'll do, pig. That'll do." I think it was just loud enough for Cromwell to hear. Then I quietly said, "Hey, guess who's two tables behind you?"

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James Cromwell, The Clay Pit, Best Indian Food in Los Angeles, Ten Causes For Divorce: Wife Embarrassment

Because it's so cool

Pink Tentacle

I'm really into this Japanese high tech blog. The images are amazing. It gives you a good look at a world that I find more than fascinating.


Printing On Water

Subtitles

As Will from Uninflected Images says "Because it makes me laugh."

Marshal Jed Cooper

I have always wanted to meet Clint Eastwood. My father worked with him in White Sands, New Mexico on a film called Hang Em High. That was 3 years before Dirty Harry, I don't think Eastwood was a household name yet. My dad came back from that film with a cowboy tan. Very dark arms, tanned face but with legs whiter than Will Ferrell. I can't remember any stories about the movie or Clint. I wish the hell I could. My dad died about 11 years later.

The Clint story I have is second hand. I heard it from Brian Helgeland, one of the top screenwriters in town, who was working with Eastwood on Mystic River. Helgeland has a quiet, very smart way about him. His Payback Straight Up Interview reveals a man who can not only write well but tell great stories during interviews.

Mystic River. Directed by Clint Eastwood, the mysterious drama Mystic River is based on the novel by Dennis Lehane and adapted by screenwriter Brian Helgeland. Set in an Irish neighborhood in Boston... I think Helgeland had to do some cajoling to get Clint to shoot in Boston. I don't know how much, and I don't know for sure if that's what went down. But Helgeland and Eastwood were scouting neighborhoods in Boston. It was a hot summer night. Insurance wise you have a Film Corporation and a twice nominated Oscar screenwriter walking by themselves in a neighborhood where they could have been hurt. As Helgeland described Eastwood he explained that Eastwood is a man of few words. He's incredibly thoughtful and when he speaks everybody listens. So they were walking quietly down the street at Eastwood's deliberately slow pace. They walked to the early evening sounds, getting the feel and maybe considering images for the film. Or maybe they were just walking off dinner.

Because of the summer heat everyone had their windows open. It was around 7 pm. Helgeland said they walked down a row of houses and as they passed one house he heard a man yelling to his wife. "Hey, Come to the window. You won't believe it! Clint Eastwood just walked past our house!" They kept walking. The wife's angry voice said "Shut Up! I told you, you drink too much." Helgeland and Eastwood were nearly at the end of the block. The Husband, "No I'm tellin ya it's goddamn Clint Eastwood! He walked right past our house!" As Helgeland told it they kept walking. Quietly. While the house with the angry couple yelled at each other, Eastwood's face didn't crack a millimeter.

A few weeks back, at night - I was hanging alone on a quiet street near The Blue Whale (The Pacific Design Center) It was a strangely sad night. I stared up at the building as it changed colors. I reviewed things as you do when you can think without distractions. Then I saw the unmistakable outline of Marshal Jed Cooper. It was goddamn Clint Eastwood. He was walking a young woman to her car. She was a film director by the way they spoke. She thanked "Mister Eastwood" for watching her movie. He wished her luck and walked down Melrose. By himself. Slowly.

And I wanted to yell at my dad and tell him that I just saw goddamn Marshal Jed Cooper.

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Clint Eastwood, Brian Helgeland, Mystic River, Payback Straight Up, Hang Em High,Marshal Jed Cooper

The Last Knit

Because I started a new gig yesterday you get this beautifully crafted animated short. It speaks to my own obsessive nature. For me I can only learn by diving into whatever interests me. I can supplement knowledege with books but have little to no retention. On the scale of intelligence I fail miserably. Luckilly... I work in the film business.

Chris Rock Logs On To Reel Hollywood

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Jerry Goldsmith

A couple of weeks ago I was invited to a listening party by my friend Cliff Eidelman. Cliff is a film composer who can write a score from his kitchen table. You know, 12 staves of music, all in his head. No piano. Piece of cake. Cliff is a character. He has taken 10 years to write songs about his family and things that matter. He recorded them at Capitol Records Studio C. That's where the party was. Capitol Records in Hollywood is where that small band, The Beatles, recorded. I can't find any pictures of the interior but the place is a museum to the Beatles. Pictures line the walls. Pictures of Sinatra, The Beatles, Louis Armstrong. It's a place everyone should be able to visit. Anyway, I'll get back to Cliff.

When I was a wee lad I got a job at Fox Studios. I was a gopher. I was given a tour by a senior gopher named Dave. Dave really knew his way around the lot. He so loved movies his only way in was the Fox back door. Dave started in the Fox commissary. He got his highly coveted senior gopher job because he made extra large sandwiches for everyone he thought might hire him the fuck out of the commissary. And it finally worked.

On my first day Dave showed me the old writer's building, the Aaron Spelling offices, the mail room and finally the scoring stage. That's where I first saw Jerry Goldsmith. Jerry passed away in 2004. He has 312 credits to his name. That's Three Hundred and Twelve!

I suppose my love of films began when I watched Goldsmith record the score to Alien. Jerry had a commanding voice, and a kind voice. Watching him conduct was like watching an architect construct something great like the Pyramids or Taj Mahal, only Jerry did it with music. You can see an interview of him with Robert Osborn, where Goldsmith discuses having been nominated 18 times for an Oscar

Goldsmith was unique. When you heard a score you could say, "Damn, that's Jerry". There was a signature that identified him. But he was unique in that every score was vastly different. I don't know that you could say that for many film composers. Listen to RUDY or HOOSIERS or ALIEN. Even the lower budget stinker films had great scores by Goldsmith.

I have a few favorites. I love the title sequence to Papillon. I love the score to Chinatown. But I also love Under Fire which featured Pat Metheny on guitar. Yet another favorite is Goldsmith's recording of a television main title called Room 222. Now before you click on this link, close your eyes. Or close them after you click. But please listen to this short, gorgeous piece without the visuals because I think they get in the way. Ready? Go!

I guess I've been thinking a lot about these Masters of the Film Universe lately. It a sure sign that I'm getting old. I know there is some new talent, but leave me alone while I cruise memory lane. (Old AND grumpy) I've had my eye on Jon Brion. He's a wonderful talent. I've written about James Gray. But we shall see if these guys weather the Hollywood storm. Because that's the real test. For now I hope you can look back with me for a minute and appreciate these old farts. But stay with me. I want to finish with a funny Goldsmith story.

At the listening party I ran into Mike Lang. He's one of the pianists who worked a lot with Goldsmith.


They were recording the score to The Russia House. It's a brilliant jazz oriented score. If you want you can read a lot about it here. But do that later. The point is that Jerry hired Branford Marsalis to play sax. As Mike tells it, before the recording Jerry asked Mike to his home studio to lay down some complicated keyboard tracks. Mike and Jerry had a great relationship. But here's something I didn't know about Jerry. He was a trickster.

They get to the scoring stage. They run down the title cue which features Marsalis. Jerry conducts the rehearsal which is recorded. He walks into the booth and listens. He calls Lang into the booth. The musicians, including Marsalis hang on the stage where they can't hear the dialogue.

Jerry says, "Damn, Marsalis is playing every note." Mike asks, "Well what's wrong with that?" Jerry tells Mike he wants Marsalis to improvise a little. Mike says "Tell him". Jerry says "I don't know him, you tell him!" For 30 seconds it turns into the who's on first routine. Jerry is afraid to tell Marsalis, a monster player, to improvise a little. Lang gets more and more uncomfortable. He's seen Goldsmith command every major player for at least 20 years. He was wondering what the hell was happening. This was not the pecking order or how things worked.

As Lang refuses to tell Marsalis to play differently Goldsmith walks Mike back out to the stage where the musicians are waiting. He has his arm around Lang. He gives Mike a sweet smile and yells out "Hey Branford, Mike has something to tell you."

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Linky Love, and Genius Comedy

Shortly after Abbott and Costello teamed up, they honed the sketch, using the nicknames of then-contemporary baseball players like Dizzy and Daffy Dean to set up the premise. In 1938 burlesque producer John Grant, working with Abbott and Costello, asked Will Glickman, a staff writer on The Kate Smith Hour radio show, to sharpen and amplify the Baseball Routine for performance on the show. This version, with extensive word play based on the names of contemporary baseball players became known as "Who's On First". By 1944, Abbott and Costello had the routine copyrighted.

Unless I get some Bill Gates-Like donations I have to keep working for a living. Which is an apology for a lack of posts. I'm loving these comedy routines. It was this, Bill Cosby's Cake For Breakfast or Groucho Marx. Wouldn't it be amazing if there is someone out there who hasn't seen this routine?

Driving, Common Sense and Avoiding Speeding Tickets

Chris Rock drives a Porsche. I asked him if he got many speeding tickets. He said just one, from a cop in L.A. who must not have seen this video.

For Your Consideration

Ricky Gervais, Chris Guest, Eugene Levy. And the usual brilliant suspects including Parkey Posey, Bob Ballaban, Catherine O'Hara, Fred Willard, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer (and more) A few months ago I saw ten minutes of the film. It looks great. (With a busy week the posts may be delayed.) Here is the Warner Independent Official Website

Eugene Levy plays talent agent Morley Orfkin, President of the Dorkman-Orfkin Agency (DOA).

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Christopher Guest, Waiting For Guffman, This is Spinal Tap, Best In Show, For Your Consideration, Ricky Gervais, Eugene Levy, Bloggers who cut corners with video

Iraq In Fragments

It seems that Reel Hollywood is growing. And I hope it is obvious how much I enjoy the writing, commenting and the community. After just 3 months it felt pretty good to get the following email.

Greetings from Typecast Releasing in Seattle, Washington!

I'm writing because on November 17th, in association with HBO Documentary Films, we'll be opening James Longley's award-winning documentary film, IRAQ IN FRAGMENTS, in Los Angeles, along with eight other US cities. We recently came across your blog and thought this film seemed like the sort of thing that you and your readers would be interested in.

A poetic three-part opus examining life in Iraq from the Sunni, Shiite and Kurdish points of view, IRAQ IN FRAGMENTS won the Best Director, Best Cinematography and Best Editing awards in the documentary competition at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival. You can read critic's reviews, read more about the film at Iraq In Fragments Website

We'd love for you to attend the advance press screening, and I've attached an invitation with RSVP details and more information to this email. Please let me know if you are able to come.

I have RSVP'd. It will be interesting if I can get a press pass as Portnoy from Reel Hollywood.

Scammers and The Homeless

I've been getting a number of requests for links lately. (From bloggers who may be called a bit smarmy) And I know that some other bloggers get really upset with the so called scammers. But I don't. Not really. If they ask politely I usually give them a link in the gratis links box. I know the bikini thing was an exception but i gotta say it's more entertaining than the jokes guy. Maybe I should just remove them. I don't know, I'm in a quandary. Maybe I should create yet a 3rd box.

Because others who have asked for link exchanges - and have well written blogs - and I hope they don't feel slighted being in the same box as bikini guy. Here are some of those cool blogs. ( I think I need to move Love Diary over to screenwriters. He never asked for a link. I discovered he linked to me so I added him. )

Mimi Writes...

Girltalk Over Latte

All About My Movies

Reverberating Dream

Love Diary of a Tahitian Barmaid

A Painting A Day

Hanh at Home

The reason I give links to just about anyone is simply because they ask. And this sounds wacky, but I sometimes compare them to homeless people - In a virtual way. Maybe they will find a voice and start posting content worth reading. Whatever. This link giveaway - it's almost a religious belief. Yikes, where is Portnoy going with this? I'm gettin a little nervous now.

It is based on mystical Judaism. When someone asks for money, you give it to them. In many ways this has changed my life. The texts say that giving to the homeless can relieve depression. What's really weird about giving to anyone who asks? When I started doing it, I began by carrying ten singles. And I'd see a homeless person. They'd ask. I give a buck. But here's the strange thing. After maybe 30 bucks, they started to disappear. It's like I can't even find them to give the money away. They are out there. They just don't seem to be in my field of vision like they were. I know, I'm off the deep end. If you want to experiment with the simply giving program and tell me I'm crazy... be my guest. Now I know the homeless aren't dissappearing. But I do what I can to help because maybe one day I will be there holding a sign. Will work for links. (I know. I'm making jokes about the homeless. Wanna know a secret? It's my second biggest fear.)

Reel Hollywood will return after this.

Spielberg or Portnoy? aka Portnoy's Secret Life

Okay I'm going to let you in on a secret about Portnoy. We have all seen people who we could swear is someone we know. We'll walk up to that perfect stranger and say "You look exactly like my friend so and so. I've said I resemble Richard Gere. But what I haven't told you is this: I have 'looked' like Dustin Hoffman, Steven Spielberg and various friends of people usually named Steve or Jim. I am one of those people whose face seems to morph for the beholder.

In the late 80's I used to get Dustin a lot. I liked hanging out in Westwood, next to the Village Theatre. There was a cafe next door where I would drink coffee and watch people. Once (and this is where it all started) a woman looked at me, then did a double take - then approached gingerly, like I was a very kind zoo animal. That's the moment when you know you're being mistaken for a movie star. People have a slight smile and they generate this excitement of discovery that's hard to verbalize - the receiver gets bathed in a large portion of adoration for as many seconds as it takes to tell them you aren't Dustin Hoffman.

It goes like this. "Oh my God, you're Dustin Hoffman!" I smile and say, "No.... I'm not." But when it started I'd milk that ellipsis, because being mistaken for a movie star is a very pleasant feeling. Dustin didn't happen constantly but it was fun while he lasted. Some Christmas morning a year or so later I was rushing to the matinee of Woody Allen's new movie, whatever it was. (Just for the stereotype - This is what Jews in Hollywood do: We see Woody Allen movies and eat Chinese food on Christmas Day.) That morning I stopped at the 7-11 for cash. The homeless man looked up and, without adoration said, "Man you look just like Dustin Hoffman." I told him he looked just like Danny Glover. But somehow that homeless man put the kibosh on Dustin and I never heard it again.

Next I went thru the Richard Gere stage. Which never made sense to me. I guess it's the smoldering sensuality (to steal from Woody) and usually it came from the French girls I was hanging out with. (Ah those Frenchies. That's another post.) But at the same time as Gere started I was getting - yep - Spielberg. I preferred Gere in the looks department but would rather have had the Amblin bank balance. And it was confusing. I didn't see a resemblance.

The Spielberg lasted quite a while. Fnally, it got out of hand. I wore glasses, he wore glasses. Spielberg drove a Landcruiser, I drove a Landcruiser. Billy Crystal used to call it the LandJew. "Hey, you gonna drive the LandJew to lunch?" I used to tell Billy my Spielberg moments. Once I was driving in traffic on Beverly. I stopped for a light. Three cars behind me, a beautiful young actress got out of her car, ran up to my side and tossed her headshot into my lap. I had no time to tell her I wasn't Spielberg. (Nor did I want to.)

Another time, on the Warner Bros lot, I found the loveliest handwritten note on my windshield. It said "Dear Mr Spieberg, (note the 'l' was missing) I just wanted to say hello. When I was growing up in China you used to bowl at my Uncle's Bowling Alley. This is when you were making "Empire of the Sun". I wanted to tell you that was a turning point in my life and I am now in USC Filmschool" She left no name, no number.

I held onto that note with the intent of getting it to Spielberg. I had never met him but knew people who worked for him. (Years later I gave the note to Michael Kahn who is Spielberg's long time editor.) In the meantime I showed Crystal and he then started calling me "Mister Spieberg". The problem with working for Billy Crystal was you'd hurt by the end of the day. You'd hurt from laughing. (When comics tell each other to "hurt em" before going on stage it means to Hurt Them from laughing too much.)

Having lunch with Billy Crystal turns heads. The power of adoration is amplified to the number 11. In Los Angeles and New York the unwritten rule (was) you didn't go up and bug these people. You stole glances and whispered and stared. Now the paparazzo has changed all of that. And if you see a star, take your chances but be polite. They are human. (sort of)

We ate at a Sushi place on Sawtelle. Billy Crystal, his editor, the producer, the writer, some more crew people and me. Maybe ten of us at two tables. Yes, it's fun to eat with Crystal because of the... golden light. No telling what you can achieve in that rich and powerful halo. The only thing you need to get used to is - not getting used to it. It's about them, not you. Anyway, we finish the meal. Billy takes off in another car and I'm waiting for the valet to get my 'LandJew.'

While waiting I see a large Israeli man staring at me. He looks to be about 60. But powerful. Like Israeli Intelligence or something. He is big enough to snap me in two and by the looks of him he might want to do that. I can see he sees I'm Spielberg. He walks slowly toward me. No smile. I begin to think I'm in danger. He grabs my hand in both of his so that I can't pull away. He starts to cry and thanks me for making Schindler's List. I try to tell him I'm not Spielberg but he won't let me. I make a quick decision to be Spielberg because that's what he needs. He gives me a bear hug and walks away in tears.

If you're a man of a thousand faces you know what I am talking about. You see us at parties or out in public. We are out there like falling stars. Once I even saw somebody who looked exactly like.... Me.

Technorati Tags:Billy Crystal, Steven Spielberg, Schindler's List, Empire Of The Sun, Dustin Hoffman, Richard Gere, Israeli Intelligence

The Magic Hour - When Harry Met Sally

(This is Part 3) Here is Part One

Magic Hour is a quality of light at sunrise and sunset. You see it in many films. I included a frame from "Days Of Heaven" as an example. Nestor Almendros was one of the all time great cinematographers. I include him because when I think about magic he comes to mind. Also, I have a bit of flu. God knows where this post may end up.

In part two I mentioned my phone call with David Copperfield. I forgot to mention how he asked if I knew he'd just been to Russia and that all his gear was stolen. I said that it was too cold to get news in Toronto but nearly said that if he was a good magician he should be able to make it reappear. But somehow I imagined some bad guy named Boris saying the same thing.

Anyway, Magic. (Nice flu-like segue) First, as I mentioned in the opening, as soon as you analyze it, it's gone. Magic, Enlightenment, pure realms of reality cannot be dissected. They just are . Secondly, I don't have the credentials of Harry Keyishian. Harry is the step father of a writer friend of ours who deserted us and moved to Melbourne. Harry and his wife, Marjorie are Shakespeare scholars. I adore their wit and genuine intellect. Harry laughs at my jokes. Marjorie scowls at my lack of Shakespearean education. It all works out. (I will email Harry and ask him to comment.)

Simply, in the end - what I saw during the mixing and previewing is something I had never seen before or since. Besides the 13 second laugh (and I challenge you to find a longer one) Besides the buzz, the fun of collaboration and the beginning of a great relationship with Rob Reiner - this is what I saw that, still, blows me away. During the mixing process, where all the sound and music are mixed with the dialogue - whenever I walked past the projection booth there was a crowd of 15 or 20 people crammed into the booth sneaking a view of the movie. Those are insiders, union workers, you couldn't pay them to do that. (Sounds like an oxymoron but you get it, right?) They just don't do that. To see them laughing from the projection booth was (to me) the greatest magic of that film.

When Harry Met Sally worked out. It may not be your favorite film. It certainly borrowed from Woody Allen. But it had a *Timely Premise, Great Script, Great Cast, Great Photography, Great Music. And Luck. And luck for me that I got to work on the movie.



* Last night I was watching Renoir's Rules Of The Game This is a fantastic film. In it Paulette Dubost (the French Maid) had this line of dialogue; "I'll be friends with men when pigs can fly."
Tags:
Rob Reiner, Marc Shaiman, Nora Ephron, Andrew Scheinman, When Harry Met Sally, Movie Magic, Harry Connick Jr, Barry Sonnenfeld, Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, David Copperfield, Bobby Colomby, Jean Renoir, Nestor Almendros , Luck

Portnoy's Procrastinated Movie Meme

Julie, I've avoided THIS long enough! So long I feel aged.

1. The last movie you saw in a theatre - Gone With The Wind. It was that or The Philadelphia Story. Did you know that HP was founded in 1939?

2. The last movie you rented/purchased for home viewing. - Have they invented a machine to watch movies on at home? Who would want to watch movies at home?

3. A movie that made you laugh out loud. Courage Under Fire, especially where Lou Diamond Phillips runs to camera in slow mo and says 'she'sssssssss deaddddddddddd.'

4. A movie that made you cry. "My Life As A Dog"

5. A movie that was a darling of the critics, but you didn't think lived up to the hype. - All of them.

6. A movie that you thought was better than the critics. - Payback

7. Favorite animated movie. - All things Miyazaki

8. Favorite Disney Villain. - Michael Eisner

9. Favorite movie musical - Was Schindler's List a Musical?

10. Favorite movies of all-time. - This is the question that prevented me from completing this meme. I still can't answer. See my Reel Film Library in the Sidebar.

And now, I need to tag 5 more people to do this movie meme... Rose I lost your email and am SO glad you came back! You are tagged!

Instead it's Mister Linky! You can do the meme or leave your mark on the fire hydrant....

The Elements Of Magic - "When Harry Met Sally"

(This is Part Two) Okay, so the first element of movie magic is a good, preferably great script. Then a great cast. And what a strange number of psychic variations can arise in the casting of a movie. Did you know that Tom Hanks turned down the role of Harry? As did Albert Brooks. Molly Ringwald was offered the part of Sally but couldn't schedule it. Can you imagine anyone else but Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan? If magic happens it happens because the casting provides the sparks while the actors bring the magic.

The sexual tension between Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan was undeniable. But to me it was, at first, almost unbelievable. Billy is not the greatest looking actor around but he's got so much humor, energy and honesty that somehow he's quite likeable. In Casablanca, is Bogart some man-hunk of a guy? No. His face is etched in booze, cigarettes and sadness. To me that's magic. And as much as I like George Clooney I also miss actors with blemishes. And women with figures. And actors who could act. But I digress....

Thus, script plus cast equals magic? Maybe. We know that actors without scripts equals good looking garbage. But what else transforms the two dimensions of film into magic? In my book it's Premise plus Timing. Take "Fatal Attraction". Great script, great actors and a very fresh twist on the very old premise of adultery. And everyone involved knew that film would create controversy, excitement and fear. Today I'm sure it would spin off it's own reality show.

So great script, great actors, timely premise. Can a Man and Woman Be Friends? That still has legs doesn't it? When your premise has that much staying power you got yourself some magic. I think Rob knew what he had. But he was also into a new relationship at the time so that added even more juice to the whole story. It was Barry Sonnenfeld who introduced Reiner to Michele Singer, his wife to be. And I think it was on the set of When Harry Met Sally. (The fact of When is a still question in my memory. The Who and What are certain.) Additionally Reiner and his partner revised the script and whatever Reiner was going through had a good deal to do with that film.

And as a sidebar soapbox there's nothing like honesty in creation. I don't care what you are working on, if it comes from an honest place then you are on a good foundation. The reason there's so much crap labeled as "film" is because it comes from a place with no foundation. Spend as much money as you want, Pearl Harbor at 135 million will never be a watchable film. Spend 400k and add a little honesty, what might happen? Napoleon Dynamite. It's not about money. All good art is about honesty, or what strikes us as truth, even if it's fiction.

Okey dokey. Script. Actors. Timely and Powerful Premise. Does that make magic? One would think so. But that ain't all of it. A director needs to know where to place a camera and he needs the proper lighting to produce the images. And yet there are two more elements that can catalyze a little magic. Music and Luck. (There may be more but I'm over my head now...)

From the beginning Reiner had a vision of using Jazz Standards as the music behind the action. Woody Allen had done it for years but it seemed that When Harry Met Sally revitalized an entire genre of music that hadn't been heard in years. Later in the editing process Billy Crystal didn't feel that the song "It Had To Be You" - played when he was running through the streets to get to the New Years Party - was strong enough in Tempo to match his actions.

I think everyone just stared Billy down on that one. In retrospect you could have put a different song in that sequence because the movie was working so well. Just think of it this way: Mediocre, or good, music will enhance a decent movie. Inspired music will lift an already great film. But - brilliant music will never polish a turd. (as they say) In the case of When Harry Met Sally you had some of the finest recordings ever made. Louis Armstrong / Ella Fitzgerald. My God, just stop and listen to them sing "Summertime".

The man responsible for Harry Connick Jr's involvement is Bobby Colomby. Bobby was the drummer for Blood, Sweat and Tears. I think he was the Senior Vice President, Creative Development, at CBS records / Sony Music. Whatever he was, he brought Harry Connick Jr into the fold. Bobby is a music guru. He knows everyone in the business. Everyone. I'm not kidding. Many years ago I was working up in Toronto during the winter on a movie that I didn't enjoy for many reasons. I called Bobby and told him how miserable I was in the cold, very cold Toronto. Bobby can cheer anyone up. Anyway a week went by and my cell phone rang. "Hello," said the woman on the phone "David Copperfield calling can you take it?" I stared into my cell phone thinking it a practical joke. It was David Copperfield, the magician. He told me he had heard "great things" about my work from Bobby Colomby and could I hop on a plane to Vegas to check out his show? And come work for him? I couldn't help laughing. I didn't take the job but damn if Bobby Colomby didn't make my year. With Bobby in the mix you get some magic.

Finally I'll wrap it up with some fun stuff about Harry Connick Jr and what was (for me) the real magic moment. In the meantime here is some fun When Harry Met Sally Trivia.


Here is Part 3

Technorati Tags:
Rob Reiner, Marc Shaiman, Nora Ephron, Andrew Scheinman, When Harry Met Sally, Movie Magic, Harry Connick Jr, Barry Sonnenfeld, Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, David Copperfield, Bobby Colomby

"When Harry Met Sally" and Movie Magic

When Harry Met Sally began with a script by Nora Ephron. It became an iconic (there's that word again) date movie / comedy of the late 80's. "I'll have what she's having" transports us to one scene that brought an audience into such fits of laughter that it drowned out everything else. Those laughs lasted 13 seconds straight. (I know because I counted the seconds during the previews) If I can pull it off I'll write about the elements that brought that movie together. But it won't be easy. Just when you think you think you have a foothold on Magic - you find yourself flat on your butt wondering what just happened.

I read the script "When Harry Met Sally" which may have been titled Boy Meets Girl, but I could be wrong. It was a while back. What I remember distinctly was being on my couch turning pages and at one point I laughed so hard I rolled off the couch. This is true.

When a group of us saw the director's cut which had no music other than Bing Crosby after the orgasm scene - we walked out of the small theatre and oddly, no one seemed to know they had this monster hit on their hands. Maybe they were afraid to say anything out loud. There was no buzz. It was a bunch of highly talented professionals discussing where to eat lunch.

There was Rob Reiner, Nora Ephron, Bob Leighton (Reiner's longtime editor), Marc Shaiman (now: A-list film composer. film producer and Broadway powerhouse - then; just another very talented musician paying rent in Laurel Canyon). I think Barry Sonnenfeld, the director of photography was there with the producers Andy Scheinman and Jeff Stott. And the exit talk went like this- Would the audience buy into Billy as a leading man? Wasn't Meg just about the cutest thing you ever saw? Hey has anyone heard of a kid named Harry Connick Jr? That kind of thing. Definitely no magic yet.

Continued. The Elements Of Magic

Technorati Tags:
Rob Reiner, Marc Shaiman, Nora Ephron, Andrew Scheinman, When Harry Met Sally, Movie Magic, Harry Connick Jr, Barry Sonnenfeld, Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan

Reel Film Library

In the sidebar there is a new box called Reel Film Library. It will take a while for me to compile the list but if you love movies and you haven't seen these - well - go for it. (If I get inspired I will categorize them. Some films may be rated R) The library, in my opinion, is worth owning. You can watch these films several times. If you have other suggestions, please leave them here. BUT if I haven't seen them I can't put them in the box with the same level of confidence. (see my guarantee) I'm staying away from the obvious. (Godfather, Casablanca... Etc)

wow - that was the quickest post in a month!

please have a look at some new added links.

Allie D's Memoirs of a Gouda. Smart, opinionated, funny.... her site is beautifully laid out. her banner is worth the price of admission. she even helps you with 3 column code. which i have been wrestling with for days.

In random finds you'll see this guy's Bathrooms of the world but also check his other blogs.High powered rocketry, or R2k you won't believe this video, especially if you watch it around 3 am. Fun with Thermite

James Gray - Genius?

Genius. The word is over-used. And yet occasionally - it is right on the money. In 1994 James Gray made a film called Little Odessa. While attending USC Film School Gray looked up to the following luminaries: Kurosawa, Fellini, Kubrick and Francis Ford Coppola. After Little Odessa came out Gray received many congratulatory phone calls. Agents, producers, dealmakers. Out of those many calls one came from Akira Kurosawa. Another by Stanley Kubrick. Gray was 25 years old. Kurosawa's message went unreturned because Gray was too nervous to call him back.

I think there is only one other director to have released a film by 25. Steven Spielberg at 24. So what about this genius moniker we've all heard to death? "Genius" in wikpedia (the lazy man's reference guide) has some interesting concepts. One of them is the idea that some of the Master composers could hold five, six or even seven different melodies in their minds at once. They could write complicated music with many different parts all at once without having to hear it played. In comparison, the average person can only hold one melody in memory.

I was on my way home from work pondering that one. Go ahead and recall your favorite melody, then turn the radio on and try to hear just 2 melodies at once. Yeah, right. Another explanation of genius was the idea that a person could look at a pocketwatch and imagine every working part from the hands to the spring.

So with that high bar reminder let's use some caution before we call our favorite filmmaker, musician, artist, CEO, whatever... a 'genius'. With this proposal I've pretty much written myself into a corner on this post but let's see where it goes.

James Gray can do a number of things really well. He can play a highly proficient piano. He can discuss the depths of classical music with a classically trained composer. He can draw. (If I can find it I'll include a drawing he did for my daughter.) He can act. He can write. He's incredibly funny. When I met him on "The Yards" I had worked on so much previous drek that after viewing the images of his movie I felt refreshed. Like maybe there was still hope for a good film. (I don't believe good films have been made since 1975.)

When you watch a film and the images speak on an iconic level you know you're about to be a part of a serious job. Every director can manage a few of these images. Gray seems to hit every frame with them. I don't know how he does it but eventually people will study his work. Producing these images take a great deal of thought, planning and luck. Excluding the Director that includes a great DP, an excellent script and primo performances. It would be fun to know your favorite film images. (Let me know in your comments.)

I believe Gray's upcoming film We Own The Night will place him on the A-side of the known map. His script is tighter than his other films. (He might argue on that one.) The cast is also tightly wound. If all goes right you can say you read it here first. (Hey, that genius prognosticator - what's his name? Oh yeah, Portnoy! I read about Gray last year in Reel Hollywood.)

So how does Gray handle his cast? With vision and a strong hand. An actor who's a bit nuts had destroyed part of the set on one Gray's films. (Not mentioning which film) James let the actor go crazy and then made him pay for it. I mean, out of the actor's pocket. He told him, "Okay you're paying for this!" That got the actor's attention - like a parental correction.

When Miramax sent their notes on "The Yards" Gray took the notes from me and told me what he thought of them. By that I mean he ripped them out of my hand and burned them. As much as I appreciated that iconic effort it didn't sit so well with the big guy at Miramax. Not that he knew about the fire. But Gray's independent vision caused him more trouble than it was worth. I admire Gray tremendously for that fight. But, in the end, you can't go head to head with Harvey. You just can't.

The problem with studio notes: They don't go away. Many times they are conceived by inexperienced and insecure execs. Most of them don't seem to realize or care how those notes are perceived. (Which is problem one.) Many times words like 'whimsical', 'artsy', 'European' are used in the literal descriptions. The words ought to be. 'Needs more pace' or 'Needs a better transition' Instead they confuse (and anger) the filmmaker with abstract exec lingo. If you're a creative exec, please weigh in.

From the filmmaker's side - They have been working long hours trying every take, scrutinizing every frame of the film. They know what is there and what isn't there. Then there's the exec. They have one dominant money gene which determines the thrust of their notes. Unless that exec is an old schooler who knows how to make a film. (Not many left these days) Then the problem becomes - how does the exec get the filmmaker to trust him/her in regard to their notes. It's usually a nasty situation unless the director is Speilberg, Zemeckis and a few others including Woody Allen. Why? They don't do notes.

On a personal level - I tend to get sick of it all and want to leave Hollywood. (Please see my donation box in the lower right sidebar)

I know there are a few writers who read me. (imagine that) My online pal wc dixon may weigh in on this post. I hope it's not too technical or boring - or both. But maybe you get an idea of how much love and care can go into the making of a film. They don't call it a 'baby' for nothin.


Technorati Tags:
James Gray, Fellini, Kubrick, Kurosowa, Coppola, The Yards, Little Odessa, We Own The Night

Made My Day

Before proceeding with the James Gray "Genius" post I wanted to mention a couple Blogger/ Authors who have made my day. And not in the style of Clint Eastwood. Last week was a sort of Sisyphean hell at work. The Studio sent their notes and we spent the week pushing those notes up the hill. (In the James Gray "Genius" post I will relate a pretty funny moment on how Gray handled the notes on The Yards) The picture of Dirty Harry feels appropriate to my feelings on Studio Notes.

Anyway in the sleep deprived haze of last week there were a couple of bloggers who really helped me stay positively charged. So I wanted to salute them now. And I don't care how much of this sounds like a paid advertisement - it isn't.

David Southwell left a very kind comment on the Reiner post. So I found his site and hung out a while. After I read his post called Author In The Bookshop Thing I had to link to his blog English Dreaming, English Rain. I see 9 of his books on Amazon (US). His latest, The History of Organized Crime is available at Amazon UK

After I finished most of his blog (while I was supposed to be working) I sent him an email thanking him for the post he left. An email or two later Southwell wrote back.

As an author, I like to expose myself to as much inspiring, creative material - especially when I am in the grind of putting out a book on a tight deadline. More than once your blog has got my creative juices running and therefore it is me who should be thanking you.

I was thrilled to get that email. For a guy who dropped out of college (in the first semester) that email made my day. Reel Hollywood is here because Eric Clapton inspired me. My inner balance is about creativity.

Then there's the very funny writer who's going through a not so funny thing. Bonnie is in the gravitational center of heartbreak where she has lost some people who were very close to her. We have exchanged some emails since I discovered Ballpoint Wren Bonnie is the woman who wrote "The Very Best Of Miss Snark". You can see it on the Miss Snark Blog. Bonnie's real voice can be found on her blog. It's funny, gentle and engaging. If you know anything about her recent pain this will probably make you cry. Monday Morning Mojo Number 50 Bonnie, it's nice to see you posting again.

So - now I can remove the inner post-it. And (side bar literal) if there's anyone out there who can help with a 3 column template I would be VERY grateful.

David Southwell, Ballpoint Wren, The History of Organized Crime, Make My Day

How Rob Reiner Handles Actors

Every director has a method or two in their repertoire on handling sometimes 'difficult' actors.

John Huston once said "Talk to them about things they don't know. Try to give them an inferiority complex. If the actress is beautiful, screw her. If she isn't, present her with a valuable painting she will not understand. If they insist on being boring, kick their asses or twist their noses. And that's about all there is to it." (Okay so the man was a little troubled but I still love his films.)

Rob Reiner doesn't use the late John Huston's method. But once he told a story about a 'difficult' situation he was in during the early days of shooting on one of his films. The actress is not Kathy Bates, I just loved that photo of Reiner's laugh.

To hear Rob Reiner tell a story is a treat. He utilizes a command of voice, inflection, musicality and language that simply must be heard. He is one of the great story tellers of our time. I'm sorry you can't be a fly on the wall for this one. And to lay out a disclaimer - after some thought I am a bit reluctant to tell this story because it could embarrass our antagonist whom we will refer to as Arcas.

Arcas is a terrific, accomplished actor. When Arcas takes on a character the two become one. Arcas is an actor you want in your movie. So when I use the word 'difficult' I don't mean someone who shows up late, doesn't know their lines and resembles the attitude of Lina Lamont. Arcas' difficulties may have stemmed from being overly passionate about the part. I don't know but I can sense that I'm stalling, so here it is.

They were on set rehearsing a very tough scene for several days. Reiner said he was beginning to feel tense, he was thinking about the budget, and he wanted to move on and shoot the scene. It was in the first few days of production where pace is important to Reiner. Only Arcas kept rehearsing, trying out different approaches, and privately trying Reiner's nerves. Reiner wanted to speed it up. But he also didn't want to step on toes so early into the film.

That morning Arcas began rehearsing and didn't stop. If I remember correctly Reiner kept asking Arcas if he was ready to go. Arcas kept saying not yet. Or something like that. Doesn't matter. It boiled to a head. Finally, just before lunch, Arcas said, "I'm ready". To which Reiner responded "Okay, great, that's lunch"

With that announcement Reiner had reminded Arcas that Reiner was the boss. Now imagine yourself as a world class conductor with a hundred piece orchestra. And you have a world class soloist who's been rehearsing the part for hours, if not months and years when you think about it. The orchestra sits - ready to enter at the motion of your baton. Everyone is primed. Better than primed. They are raring to go. Ready to go because they have trained for this moment all of their lives. Your soloist, who's talent notches above the orchestra, finally says he's ready... And you call a break.

Reiner said that after he called the break he had some massive second thoughts. "What have I done? This is only the fifth day with 85 days to go. Will it be like this from here on out?" With those second thoughts Reiner went to his trailer. But what you gotta know about Reiner is this; he's a brilliant thinker with unbreakable logic. When he worries and tells you he's worried it makes sense. You can't refute anything because he's already mapped out the scenarios like a chess player. He's not someone you want to argue with. So, as he enters his trailer he's in a self-imposed barrage of what-ifs. About ten minutes into his lunch there was a knock on his door.

Arcas entered the trailer and began pouring his heart out about his doubts and insecurities until he eventually broke down sobbing. Arcas said he was going through a difficult period in his life. He apologized for taking so much time. He so wanted to get it right and make Reiner love his performance that he screwed things up just 5 days into the shoot. Arcas cried so hard, was so full of agony that Reiner cradled Arcas like a baby in his arms.

After lunch they shot the scene. It is one of the best scenes in any of Reiner's films.

Technorati Tags:
Rob Reiner, Kathy Bates, Ursa Minor, Film Directing, Actors

Why Is This Man Smiling?

Mike Nichols, the director, had a read-thru of Charlie Wilson's War. A read-thru is where the cast sits at a large table and reads the script. And you wanted to be a fly on the wall. The cast is surreal. Tom Hanks, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Julia Roberts. There were emissaries at the gate flagging the celeb vehicles and ushering them to the location. The read thru was catered with fine food, not food from the lot. Large glass vases full of fresh flowers were brought in. There was a cappuccino cart with a server so friendly that I could have asked for a latte and gotten it. There was "foamy" soap in the bathrooms. It's possible I used Hanks foamy soap. I don't know. There wasn't a label specifying who's foamy soap it was but it was gone at the end of the day. I'd like to think it was Hanks foamy soap. I'd like to think I washed my hands with the foamy soap used by Hanks or Hoffman. Either way those guys are incredible actors. Incredible! I heard an extremely credible story that when Hanks did the film "Punchline" he hung out and studied with Seinfeld, Rock, and other comedians for six months. The story goes that, after studying, Hanks stand-up routine was as good as anyone out there. You gotta hand it to an actor with that much passion. (Maybe it's the foamy soap.)

There's a palpable BUZZ surrounding a film this size. Everybody is happy. Who wouldn't want to work on a Mike Nichols film? My office was in the proximity of the read-thru. (Near enough to use the same bathrooms) Here comes the Arron Sorkin part. The production company has a transportation trailer outside the stage. So when you step out onto the Paramount 'street' you have to be careful. I stepped out and was nearly clipped by Sorkin's golfcart. It wasn't Sorkin's fault. It was his assistant. (Those women golf cart drivers, what are you gonna do?) It was a very near miss. I googled "Golf Cart Accidents" and the results aren't pretty. Sorkin was on his cell phone, loudly, and saying something like this" Yeah, yeah, I changed those names. It's not Bimbo One and Bimbo Two" It was much better dialogue than that but I was dwelling on the end flashes of my life. You know, death by golfcart. He was pretty absorbed in the call. They say he's a genius writer. I say he talks loudly on the cell. Loud with articulate authority. Maybe he was late for the read-thru and ordered his assistant to step on it. I'm not saying it will affect how I feel about him one way or another. There's a lot of net buzz about Studio 60. I think I'll give it a TiVo. I know this story is kinda anticlimactic. It would really get some hits if I were dead. So I'll yak a little about Tom Hanks.

I met Hanks on Forrest Gump. We shot the breeze for a few minutes. He was as gentlemen as they get. Everybody says Hanks is a great guy. I thought so when I met him. At the read-thru I spoke to Hanks driver who was one cool dude. Charlie Wilson's War is part of Hanks production company. Maybe Hanks was paying for all the amenities. The driver said that Hanks brings a masseuse (or masseur according to the parlance of our times) in on a regular basis. And a reliable source (I really mean it) says that Hanks buys lotto tickets for the crew once a week. But with the stipulation that if you win you can't quit the movie. And I say, who would want to?

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Paramount Studios, Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Mike Nichols, Charlie Wilson's War, Arron Sorkin, Studio 60, Forrest Gump, Foamy Soap

Elizabeth Hurley In A Hurry

At an independent production company in Beverly Hills there's an underground garage where the film execs park. I was working on a film. And that afternoon I had an alarm installed on my new car. About 5 pm I'm looking for the installer because he has my car keys. Only I'm parked in Elizabeth Hurley's unmarked spot. Now - I didn't park it there, the installer did. And he left my keys with security. Only I didn't know that either. So I'm in the parking garage looking for my car and its keys. I find the car. I admire it. Then a black SUV pulls up and stops. Elizabeth Hurley gets out of the car. She looks at my car. Without introduction she begins, "That's my spot!. You're in my spot!. Move your car that's my spot!" - this is going back a few years. Hugh Grant gets out of the car. Ms. H keeps her voice at level 7 or so. "That's my spot!" I looked at her and said "I need to find my keys and I'll move my car" But she was like a subway turnstile. Whatever I said didn't matter. "That's my spot!" Hugh stared at the ground as if nobody was there. She raised her voice a notch. "That's my spot" I kept trying to appease her but nothing short of my lifting the car out of her spot was going to do the trick. Finally something clicked. Like the quarter went through the vending slot and she said "Who let you park in my spot?" I told her that I didn't park in her spot, the alarm installer did. "You need to move your car that's my spot" It went on for a couple of minutes. Hugh never said a word. I kept trying to tell her that if I had my keys I'd move the car. Finally a security guard came along and brought my keys. I apologized to her. (because I was in her spot) She gave me a look as if to say I was wasting more of her time and that was that: My run in with Elizabeth Hurley. She was very good looking when she was angry.

Portnoy's Urban Dictionary for Bloggers

Add your definitions or Norm Crosby's to my list. I'm making these up as I go.

Blub - a cross between a blog and a club. a blog clique where you can post witticisms until your blue in the face but club membership will be denied anyway.

Blog Don't Tell - that's an annonymous blog like this one. And a reminder to write well.

Six Degrees of Bloggeration - the whole kevin bacon thing.

Blogment - a critical comment or an augmentation to your own previously incomprehensible comment.

Sunday - Get Linked with Mister Linky

I think this is pretty brilliant. I found it at Flip This Body What it does is create a link inside the comment box. So if you have absolutely nothing to say you can still leave your link. It's like a dog and a fire hydrant. Mark this spot!

Daddy, what's a meme? (I've been Tagged)

Great question hon. What is a MEME and how do you pronounce it? Let's start with pronunciation. Meme as in fleam (n. A sharp instrument used for opening veins, lancing gums, etc.; a kind of lancet.), or dream, beam, cream. According to Dawkins, who coined the phrase and didn't know about mneme, meme is short for mimeme (from Greek mimos, "mimic"). He wanted "a monosyllable word that sounds a bit like gene".

The puzzling definition from the AHD via Answers.Com

"A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another."

WTF, Is it me or do you find that explanation imponderable? "Daddy, what's WTF stand for?" Sweetie, stop reading over my shoulder.... Let's go to Meme Central
This is Ana Ivanovic. A good dream, meme, I said 'meme'. And great tennis player.

Okay enough on memetics. Let's talk briefly about links, linking and bloggers I like. My new favorite blog is Peg, as she is Why? Because she's a good writer with insight and humor - AND she's generous with her links. As are the other links under 'Blogs I Like, or Beg To Link Here' Today I got rid of some links because no matter how much I read and participated the fact is... they are cliquey. Clever, witty, cliquey. (You know who you are.) Nuff said.

Moving onto the meat of the post. I was tagged by Peg because she was tagged by Julie who was tagged by.... Well, it's six degrees of bloggeration.

The agreeable assignment begins.... Now.

1. One book that changed your life Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo Because it was the first book I stole from my dad's bookshelf and read under the covers when I was supposed to be sleeping.

2. One book that you've read more than once. David Copperfield There is no better first paragraph anywhere.

3. One book that you'd want on a desert island. Naturally this would be "The Inflatable Book" which has yet to be written. It's a doll AND a liferaft.

4. One book that made you laugh. Without Feathers Truly Chekhovian (the funny years) Stuff like "Last evening I had the uneasy feeling that some men were trying to break into my room to shampoo me."

5. One book that made you cry The Stone Boy This was written by Thich Nhat Hanh, an enlightened zen monk. The story of a young girl blinded by Agent Orange during the Vietnam war. It would make a great film. At one point I had the rights to it. Maybe I still do. You know how those Buddhists are.

6. One book that you wish you had written. Hard Boiled Wonderland And The End Of The World That or my unfinished novel. You cannot go wrong with Murakami. Brilliant. Surreal. His books are laced with heroin.

7. One book you wish had never been written. This will bring some hate mail but it was something from Camille Paglia. I can't remember the book but it so angered me that I tossed it.

8. One book that you are reading at the moment. Ginny Good Gerard Jones left the first comment on my blog. I only knew him from his website. Which means he was a stranger. Now we email once in a while. Ginny Jones is hysterical. I am loving this book and HOPE it gets made into a film. Gerard deserves some notice.

9. One book that you've been meaning to read. I keep trying to finish The Corrections The parents in that book are a replica of my inlaws. It's sad and tragically funny. My father in law IS Warren Schmidt.

10. Tag five others that you’d like to do this meme.
Will
Stacy
Keith
Shannon
Cullen

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ginny good, meme, woody allen, charles dickens, murakami, buddha, gerard jones