I think the reason Los Angeles is on the left coast and New York is on the right is because they are too different to be any closer. LA is Ali, New York Joe Frazier. Chicago is the referee in the middle.
I was in Los Angeles for 24 hours and movie talks. The action consisted of a late lunch, an early breakfast, and the last-minute cancellation of another lunch. Life in-between was just killing time. I killed it horizontally, exhausted from a crisscrossing, rerouting air itinerary to dodge snow en route from Jacksonville, Florida. In the old days flight logistics were easy. Not any more. Nowadays it takes at least two planes to vacate the north Florida tax district.
My mission was simple: find a producer and money for movie projects. I have three stories in the money maze race: The Rise and Fall of Piggy Church, The Raven of St. James’s Park, and Tuki Banjo Superstar. For the surf-themed Piggy project I don’t need much, just $4 million. The other two require about $14 million each. All will be indy films. Seeking advice, I had breakfast at the famed Roosevelt Hotel with my friend Frank. Frank has been a Hollywood producer for decades; he’s had a brilliant career.
“Four million is a vanity film,” he said. “It’s like settling when you could pursue a gorgeous model. You need to get to the studios.”
But I’m not a studio guy. Never have been. I love movies but have to pretend to like most studio films. I’m not into explosions, car chases, and special effects. I prefer good stories that rely on actors and actresses and plots and editing and a passionate director’s vision.
Frank explained the powerful machinery that hums behind the curtain that makes Disney such a money making omnivore. Their stories have one purpose: to sell products. And they are brilliant at it. If you don’t believe me, ask Hannah Montana or the Jonas Brothers.
I shared with Frank the successes and frustrations I have had in previous meetings. He cut me off mid-sentence.
“Forget thinking it’s a business,” he said. “It’s not a business, it’s a club. It’s got different levels within the club, but the industry is all about relationships. You need to be in the club.”
He also added that by the time the studio finishes a project, the writer recognizes none of it. Nor does he or she have any input. “They take everything,” he said. “It’s the way the game is played.”
After going back and forth for an hour Frank recommended I remain my own producer and put my own deals together.
“There’s money out there,” he said. “Work on the business case. Do the research. Piece it together. Four million is not a lot for what you want to do. Get a company to give you half and the other half is easy to get. Or do what everyone else does: get forty guys to toss in a hundred grand to be in the movie business.”
I did not mention that it’s hard for me to get forty guys to toss in 100 cents much less $100,000 but he didn’t need to know that.
The previous afternoon I had a late lunch on Hollywood Boulevard with screenwriter Doug Eboch and my favorite young actress, New Zealander Keisha Castle-Hughes. Doug wrote “Sweet Home Alabama” and is adapting Tuki to screenplay. Keisha received a Best Actress Oscar nomination when she was 14 for “Whale Rider,” her first movie.
“I saw Whale Rider 54 times at festivals,” she said. “All around the world.”
“I saw it once,” I said. “And I remember thinking, This would be so much better if she rode a real whale.”
Keisha also appeared in a Star Wars film that required 8½ hours of makeup for what ended up (post-editing) to be four seconds of screen time. When George Lucas phoned her to ask if she’d do it, she flatly refused. She was fifteen or so at the time.
“I told him I didn’t even like Star Wars, and that I was not going to miss any more school.”
Lucas insisted and cut her a deal: Keisha would fly from Auckland to Australia on a Friday after school, be in makeup all night, shoot her scenes on Saturday, and fly home to Auckland on Sunday. She was back in school Monday morning.
“I liked school,” she said. “And I missed my friends.”
Keisha wants to play the lead actress role in two of my stories. Think I’d ever trade that for a studio deal? No chance. I’m all about the team. I want to make good movies with friends I like and trust and people I care about. They mean far more to me than any studio.
But I sure could use four million dollars.