Beauty And The Rented Beast
Just another dull Saturday night for my friends; in this case, Lydia Prior, on her 30th birthday, dancing with a giant toilet seat cover that may or may not be her husband Sam.
Here's an excerpt of a piece she wrote that appeared in the Los Angeles Times magazine's "The Rules Of Hollywood":
I would like to pay you to write this script."There are few sweeter words, even when the sum following them is 1,200 pounds. After all, I was still a Classics student at Oxford, I'd never written a screenplay, and I wasn't about to say no. Even when I told him my idea—a romance between a geologist and a cave diver, with digressions on plate tectonics—he didn't flinch. Before I knew it, I was drinking Bardolino at 3 a.m. in his flat while he sang along to Elvis Costello: "Even in a perfect world, where everyone was equal/I'd still own the film rights/And be working on the sequel . . . " Different country, different rules.
Magnus asked if I had any other ideas. After three glasses of wine, I have ideas the way hamsters have babies. "This one came to me and my dad when our British Blue got an infection. It's an animated series about two gay cats. They hang out at this bar called 'The Hungry Tom.' One of them, the butch one with a swagger that would scare off a pit bull, has a long-lost son, a little kitten, who comes to the big city . . . "
"I like it," Magnus said. "Has anyone ever told you you look like Posh Spice?"
Cut to: EXT. OCEAN AVENUE—DAY. SUPER: One year later.
Halfway through my first year of film school in L.A., I am an infinitely savvier screenwriter. I eschew geologists. I make right turns on red, and I know how to use SUPER to indicate the passage of time. I am on my way to yoga. The American Film Market, an annual event where everyone who has a film—and even more people who don't—descend on Santa Monica to hawk their wares, is filling the sidewalk with baffled foreigners. Still, I'm not expecting to see Magnus.
"Your car looks like a suppository," he says, which seems a bit rich coming from someone staying at the Travelodge, and not even the one on Ocean. Over coffee on the terrace of the Loews Hotel, I assure him that he mustn't let me keep him if he has meetings to attend. I am not surprised to hear he has plenty of time.
I am surprised, though, when I see a sharply dressed man with a copy of Variety tucked under one arm walk briskly toward us, waving to Magnus. And I am even more surprised when Magnus, rather than acting like he has some business being here, seems flustered and embarrassed.
Belatedly, almost grudgingly, Magnus introduces me to Adam, the director of development for a major London production company.
"I'm just on my way to a meeting with HBO," Adam says, "but I wanted to tell you how things are going with your idea."
"Oh, that," Magnus protests weakly. "Forget it. It's not remotely commercial ..."
"No, there's something fresh about it," Adam persists. "Two gay cats. Who'd have thought of that? Anyway, I floated it to my boss, and we should definitely have a meeting when we're back in town. Nice to meet you . . . ?"
"Lydia."
He's gone. Magnus squirms, avoiding eye contact. "I was just about to tell you . . . " he bleats. I go and get my suppository from the valet.
The piece continues at the link above.
Well, muses do sleep around, but I'm guessing gay cats is probably a one-off.
Paul Hrissikopoulos at August 26, 2007 7:16 AM
When I first saw the above picture I thought this was going to be a post about plushies. I guess I'll have to stick with Dan Savage for that kind of stuff.
Rebecca at August 26, 2007 11:50 AM
I know about plushies, but as far as I know, it's not Lydia's kink.
Amy Alkon at August 26, 2007 12:12 PM
I'm so glad I knew about this kind of sleazy behavior BEFORE I moved to Hollywood.
Hollywod-type: "So what are you working on?"
Me: "I've copyrighted the shit out of it, so don't even try."
RedPretzel in LA at August 26, 2007 9:35 PM
Actually, RP, you can't copyright an idea, only the execution of an idea.
Amy Alkon at August 26, 2007 10:25 PM
I've talked to people about this, people who write things for living in Hollywood (which I assuredly do not.) It's amazing to me too, 'Pretz, but people who are successful screenwriters (and OtherThingsWriters) in Hollywood don't walk around cowering in fear that their precious ideas are going to get stolen. They trust people, and they make alliances with those who can defend their interests, just like successful players in any business. Being able to get along with the people who get movies made is as important as any kind of talent. Same with people who do real estate deals or anything else. It's a wickedly human process.
This is one reason why most Hollywood movies are pretty shitty. OK, here's how I think things work in Hollywood... (These are the kind of subtle, sociologically-detailed principles that you get only from reading essentially anonymous blog posts from mid-level video technicians. Resist the temptation to verbally express your gratitude for these insights to your glowing computer monitor; rather, take a moment to compose yourself, then type out your feelings in a following comment):
1. There's nothing new under sun, so those ideas are never as precious as the writer thinks they are.
2. Nobody knows anything. Prior is perfectly correct about how uncreative people will see something off the wall as being brilliant, but it goes farther than that. The fact that most Hollywood functionaries are illiterate, insensitive assholes doesn't handicap them, because most moviegoers aren't that sharp either. Somebody (forgotten) once said "There are three simple rules for making a successful Hollywood movie... And nobody knows what they are."
3. That's all.
Thanks for your attention.
Crid at August 26, 2007 10:34 PM
Thanks for posting that, Crid. A mentor of sorts of mine, a great guy named Len Gelstein, told me that if you have only one idea, guard it with your life. If you have more than one, don't be prissy about letting them rip, and you might get somewhere with one of them.
Amy Alkon at August 26, 2007 11:00 PM
I remember one screenwriting class in college where a reader came in and told us that everybody in Hollywood lives in abject fear of missing out on the Next Big Thing. Which means that, even if its only for five minutes, somewhere out there, a reader is actually giving your shitty script consideration. Its up to you to turn those five minutes into something more.
snakeman99 at August 27, 2007 8:22 AM
Actually, RP, you can't copyright an idea, only the execution of an idea.
Oh yeah...I know....you can't copyright ideas, only the stuff that is "fixed". Nothing is really actionable unless the fiend is dumb enough to pass off a carbon copy as his own...but Copyright can at least establish who thought up the idea first!
;)
RedPretzel in LA at August 27, 2007 11:45 AM
1. There's nothing new under sun, so those ideas are never as precious as the writer thinks they are.
Twyla Tharp had a brilliant comment on that subject in her book "The Creative Habit".
I paraphrase: "Rule #1. Don't worry about doing 'something that's never been done before', it's ALL been done, honey."
RedPretzel in LA at August 27, 2007 11:51 AM
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