portnoy comes out (but isn't gay)

google (due to inactivity) shut the old reel hollywood down.

if you get a file not found you must add a 5 to the url.

in otherwords

reelstories5......

i'm re-linking some of the archives on my new site.

www.scottydotcom.com

reelstories

okay so i'm a few months behind.

but the rub is Reel Hollywood got hit with a google bot and turned to mush.

The Santa Barbara Film Festival

I have to digest my reaction to the SBFF because right now it's too tilted to write about. I had the Film Makers Platinum Pass and let me tell you - that was some kind of fun. SB Film Fest

anyway - i'm sorry to remove Paz Vega but here's my dog wearing the Platinum Pass but playing hard to get.


Sunday Morning. I must leave for work in a few minutes.

The Platinum Pass. Oy. Homer Simpsons Choir. People staring at you assuming you must, have to BE someone. The parting of movie lines. That pass got us in ....everywhere. Even the Hotel upgraded us to a suite. There was one party where one highly untrained Bouncer wouldn't let the CEO of the Film Fest into one of his own parties. These were the parties that they informed those of us with Platinum Passes by handing us confidential memos with our SWAG. The memos listed the times and places of these affairs - You know, the ones where they have go-go dancers, food and drink and - as far as I could tell, not many actual filmmakers.

To be continued. (and edited)

In the meantime

I have worked my self into a fatigue that feels like jet lag, only much worse. The work situation has reversed itself. It's now going well. We finished and previewed with some of the highest numbers I have seen in a long time. This makes all parties giddy. I am in the strangest of moods. I'm so tired I feel as if I am hallucinating. I ought not be allowed to drive. I find myself weeping at movies like Spanglish, so you know there is something very, very wrong with me. Did you know that Paz Vega got an "Introducing" credit for Spanglish, despite it being her 13th film. (this from imdb) I can't describe quite how I feel about some filmmakers. It's not that I hate them, it's that I feel they are blinded by their own wealth and cleverness. But that still doesn't nail the word that describes a person whose point of view appears to be staunchly behind some very good cause but - only if the people inside their worldview fit the cause they are parading. Does that make sense? I'm too tired to really think this one through. I know there are writers who can nail this for me and I would appreciate it if they would give me the word that describes what I am trying to say. Is it a combination between smug and aloof? Not quite.

The doctor says I am exhausted. I could have told him that. He gave me a lunestra. Isn't that a wonderful sounding drug? It didn't work but I sure do like the way it rolls off the tongue.

BTW - Will, I uploaded a photo of Paz just because it was the right thing to do..... She really does look like she can play the part of a hard working maid, doesn't she?
------------


in the meantime here is another Gershon Winkler Newsletter that came yesterday.

A TEACHING STORY WITH YOUR OWN MORAL...
The Old Man With the Long White Beard
By Gershon Winkler

Once upon a time lived a wise old sage whose beard was so long it wrapped itself all around the planet, and everyone in the world, animals, people, all walked softly upon the earth thanks to the softness of this old man's very very long beard.

Of course, the only one who was not feeling so comfortable -- the only only one -- was this old man himself, feeling the steps of all the creatures who were busily and happily stomping all over his beard, some of them even driving heavy trucks on his beard. So while everyone in the world was happy because of the softness of being on the earth, the man whose beard was creating all this joyfulness was very unhappy and constantly in pain. The more painful it got, the more he felt like simply yanking it from underneath everyone and withdrawing his beard from across the face of the earth. But, alas, it was now too late for that kind of action, because he was now too old and therefore too weak, and no longer possessed the strength to yank his beard from under-neath all that weight. And so he prayed and prayed to Creator for help, but no response.

Then one day, he had a vision in which Creator appeared to him.

"You," said the old man, "it's about frigging time you came to me in a vision. Where the hell have you been all these years? Have you any idea what I've been through? While you're basking in the bliss of angelic concerts and all that divine-light bullshit, I've been down here suffering my ass off. I mean my beard."

Creator smiled and said gently: "Kaputch'nik, why don't you simply pull your beard from under the feet of everyone, and reclaim it again as your own?"

The old man said: "You know damn well why I haven't done that. I am too old, not strong enough to yank it from under all that weight that walks and drives upon my beard across your pathetic world!"

Creator chuckled and said even more gently: "Well, I'll tell you what. I will perform a miracle for you and give you supernatural strength to enable you to do just that."

And so Creator blew a strong spirit into the old man and he regained the strength of his youth, and then some. The old man
grabbed his beard firmly at the chin, took a deep deep breath, counted to 3, and gave a huge yank and his beard withdrew from under the feet and wheels and structures across the face of the earth, throwing everyone and everything into the air and creating havoc and destruction worldwide.

Now the old man was so very happy. He felt no more pain in his chin from all that pressure that had been tugging at his beard all these years. He felt free and filled with the joy of relief, and danced about in celebration. He folded up his beard and took a long walk across the earth, something he had not been able to do all these years due to his trapped beard. But what he saw on his walkabout began to depress him: people everywhere were sad, many of them angry, some of them beginning to even fight one another and yell at one another and argue over the tiniest things. All because there was no more softness on the earth, the old man having pulled his beard from underneath..

The more the old man walked about, trying to enjoy his newfound freedom, the more sadness and anger he saw wherever he went. Little by little, he began to feel saddened by this, in fact soon he became downright depressed. In fact, soon he began to feel even more unhappy than he had felt during all those years when everyone in the world was stomping all over his beard.

Arriving home, he realized that he was in far more pain in his heart than he had once felt in his chin. And so once again he prayed and prayed, but no response.

Then one day, Creator appeared to him in the middle of a sweet, pleasurable dream. (Portnoy guesses it was Paz Vega)

"Damn!" the old man yelled, "I'm about to enjoy something I haven't enjoyed in centuries! And NOW you appear to me? Can't you do better timing than that? I don't believe this!"

Creator smiled and said gently: "Why are you so sensitive lately? I thought you'd be happier by now, having retrieved your beard and freed yourself."

The old man said: "Yes, true I am freed up now, but the suffering that has resulted around the world by the absence of my beard has caused me greater pain in my heart than the pain I once had in my chin. And I am at a loss about what to do."

Creator chuckled and said gently: "Why don't you simply spread your beard across the world again so that all might walk in softness once more?"

The old man said: "But then I will be trapped again and in constant pain in my chin!"

Creator laughed and said gently: "You could spread your beard across the world again, and then shave. That way, not only will everyone be in joy again, but so will you, because you will be freed of your beard and be able to walk around to observe the joy and join with the people's happiness yourself."

The old man said: "That is a wise idea, Creator. But, alas, I lack the strength to throw my beard across the planet again."

Creator then blew fresh power into the old man so that he regained for the moment enough strength to throw his beard out, which he did, spreading it neatly across the entire globe. Instantly, the world became a happier place again. The old man then shaved his beard off of his chin and was freed to wander the planet all the days of his life, smiling with joy at the sight of all the happiness and friendliness that now filled the earth once again.

And he, and everyone else, lived happily ever after.

The End

Cone Head

Our golden retriever just got his - well - he'll be shootin blanks for the rest of his dog days. The thing is, he likes to put his head on my laptop while I'm writing. And I usually shoe him away. But tonight he's extra special. So I won't treat him like Bill Sikes treats his animal.

The dog looked up, and growled.

"See here, boy!" said Sikes, putting his other hand to Oliver's throat; "if he speaks ever so soft a word, hold him! D'ye mind!"

The dog growled again; and licking his lips, eyed Oliver as if he were anxious to attach himself to his windpipe without delay.

Anyway while he rests his cone on the laptop I'm thinking nobody has ever used their freshly neutered dog as an excuse for or against writing. Yes dogs have eaten plenty of homework and I'm sure there are other fantastic variants but there's something about this coneheaded guy whose manhood got suddenly diminished.

Can I relate? Sure, why not. I can't figure it all out right now but I have a feeling it's balled up inside my brain. (Did I say 'balled' up?) It's got to have everything to do with age and angst and insecurities and all the 'ieties' that make the therapy merry go round. and round. and round. Personally I think movie therapists are the only practitioners who treat with real success. (Success being a changed human being) I refer to Judd Hirsch as Dr. Tyrone C. Berger in the film "Ordinary People". I haven't seen it in years. It's a powerful movie with performances by Mary Tyler Moore that will blow you away. (So you know - I am not a Tom Cruisologist who doesn't believe in psychiatry. )

The other shrink I can relate to is Dr Marvin Monroe. Only I think he's more a GP. Does it matter? My point is real change comes from within. When people utter prayers like "God help me to not smoke today" I think they are directing their prayers in the wrong direction. But that's me and I'm in the mood for rambling.

Okay - now that that is out I'll update the work situation. It's still tense but I'm learning to read the weather. Improvisation and pseudo self confidence are the theme each day. In other words I assume airs. (So you know - I've been in this business a very long time. I know how good I am. And I am damn good. But when the czar must find a way of putting people down for the sake of show one needs to learn to bounce. I realize it's all cryptic but that's all I can give.)

In closing - I can't apologize for my blogging speed. I don't want to write unless I have something to say. In this case I don't want to leave my last post up another day. Part of me bemoans the lack of a 'Hollywood' theme and for that I do apologize. But that's that, mattress man.

I do want to mention those who have written encouraging words and for that i say God Bless. I take my Pope baton and wave it at you all. (what is that thing the pope waves at people?)

Zen Wizard, your writing has been fantastic. I meant to leave some posts on your site and will do so. ZenWizard, aspiring crime novelist

ps - the picture is not our dog. ours is one year old. he's creme colored. very handsome. and quite pathetic right now. sort of like a drunken sailor in a tight parking spot. i wonder if any of us will sleep tonight with him banging that cone on the wall.

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