Read Online What Just Happened? by Art Linson - Free Book Online Page A

pecking order that would satisfy us as well as the studio turned into a random guessing game. Which actor, if he could play the role, would sell the most tickets? Who knows? Who can ever know? Certainly not us. We were rats chasing our tails.
    First, we received the obligatory and expected turndown from Harrison Ford. At that time, any script written that required a male lead over forty-five went directly to Harrison because his acquiescence ensured a start date. It wouldn’t matter if the character was an international spy or a transvestite. If the character was an older male, it went to Ford; unless, of course, Tom Cruise was interested. Cruise would’ve been allowed to play the bear in our script or any other role of his choosing. He was running hot. Since Ford passed, our next stop was Dustin Hoffman because his agent said he had read the script and was interested. A bird in the hand. Dustin Hoffman wasn’t tearing up the box office as he once did, but he was still a star. Fox encouraged the flirtation.
    This is always a tenuous time in the packaging of a movie. This is how it works: Even if the studio gets excited, even giddy, by the new script (as they claimed to be with
Bookworm
), the studio never calls the producer and says, ‘We love this, we love you, here’s themoney, let’s fire this baby up.’ They always have several scripts in the pipeline that they fancy from different directors and/or producers. As optimistic and encouraging as they appear, they are simply not going to make all of them. The executives’ collective enthusiasm for the material can bounce around like a baby’s temperature. If Harrison Ford passes, their enthusiasm dips. If they think he passed but probably didn’t personally read the damn thing, the dip begins to rise. If several actors or directors pass, their enthusiasm goes on life support. If you get a nibble as we’d gotten from Dustin, spirits lift. If and when he passes, confidence wanes, and eventually, as the rejections add up, finger-pointing inevitably follows: ‘Who the fuck on my staff liked this piece of shit script anyhow?’ ‘Can you believe even Richard Gere couldn’t make heads or tails of it?’
    When this starts to happen, your best hope is that you have another script to work on because their intention to package this one will soon be transferred to fresher material. Knowing you’re going to get some noes, you have to strategize not to get too many before the flame burns out. Just as on the TV game show
Let’s Make a Deal
, newcomers to this game are continually led to door #1, #2, or #3 certain that the money is just on the other side, only to be tossed out at high speed in the middle of rush-hour traffic, screaming, ‘But … but … but you said …’ And your executive friend won’t be flying out the door with you saying, ‘I don’t care what anyone thinks, I love this turkey and we’re going to make it no matter where we have to go.’ In fact, the word
we
is no longer used in conversation once you’re off the lot.
    From the agent’s point of view, the terrain is just as tenuous. Some subtle issues are involved. If a client at the top of his power is deluged by offers, the agent won’t give him or her the script without a firm offer from the studio. Except for rare instances the studio gulps and gives firm offers to very few. Today that may include Jim Carrey, Tom Cruise, and Julia Roberts. The list gets redefined yearly depending on recent successes or failures.
    It can turn into an Abbott and Costello sketch:
    â€˜Could you please give my script to Harrison Ford?’
    â€˜Do you have a firm offer from Fox?’
    â€˜Well, not exactly, but they said they’d make the movie.’
    â€˜Harrison does not read without a firm pay or play offer.’
    â€˜But he might love it, really love it, and think his destiny lies in making this