To Jennifer, with love

How do you solve a problem like Jennifer?

Here’s the punch line to an old show business joke:   “…Because I needed a new bathroom.” Many of today’s movie stars, whether they know it or not, are now the unwitting deliverers of that sadly funny but telling line.  The first part of the joke is: “What would have ever possessed you to take that role.” (For writers or directors you can substitute, film, script or assignment for the word “role”).

I don’t mean to pick on movie stars specifically but to make the argument you have to cite some group and, well, movie stars are as good an example as any of those who choose to sell out their ample talent to the highest (or just high) bidder.  And frankly — they’re rich, famous, privileged, and awfully good looking (most of them) so I feel they can take it.

Actors talk all the time about there not being enough good parts (for movie studios substitute good enough scripts, for directors substitute cool or meaty projects).  But here’s the truth – really desirable parts get created from directors, writers and yes, producers and studio executives, who are trying, working hard, going out on a limb, and exploring new and dangerous territory.  Or just being clever and true to themselves in a way that hasn’t been quite been done before because they’re tapping into something that’s uniquely them.

To whit:  Jennifer Anniston CAN act – quite well – and even in something more than light comedy — watch Mike White’s “The Good Girl.”  She’s also lovely in many of her rom coms.  She has enough friends (and that also includes her work on “Friends,” the great TV show that still holds up) and money to finance any movie she wants ENTIRELY for, let’s say, under $5 million and not get too hurt.  Hell, she just sold her house in Beverly Hills for $42,000,000 (well, that was the asking price) and made a tidy profit for quite a bit more than that.   But she doesn’t choose to.  Nor do most others. (For further examples of others, substitute the name of, oh, Johnny Depp).

I like Ms. Aniston professionally and several friends of mine who have spent time with her personally like her quite a bit too.  She’s nice.  She’s down to earth.  She’s a lot of fun, they say.  So why do she and handfuls of other film stars not choose to take matters into their own hands and make/finance lower budget movies on their own at a price.  And do the schlock only when they really need a new bathroom? (But really, how many bathrooms does one realistically need anyway?).

George Clooney does this to some extent and Ms. Aniston did do this to some extent when she had a company with ex-husband Brad Pitt, which he now has and which enables him to still do it, to some extent.  But that isn’t the norm these days.  Well, maybe she doesn’t have the time or interest? It does take some effort.  But so does walking across the room to change the channel if your remote isn’t handy.  (And that’s assuming you don’t have someone in your house or an employee that can get up for you, which I’m thinking she may have).  Yet if she and others don’t do something (because money is power right now) the upshot for actors (or writers, directors, etc) and their audiences, at least, is going from meaningless film to meaningless film, polluting the waters for anything slightly better than what comes along.  Yes, I’m talking to you “Horrible Bosses,” “Green Lantern,” and “Hangover II” (if you don’t like these choices you can substitute – well, I’m sure you can think of two or three).

United Artists (the film company founded in the twenties by disgruntled film artists Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplain and DW Griffith)   – –  Even First Artists (the film company founded in the 1970s by Barbra Streisand, Sidney Poitier, Paul Newman and Steve McQueen)  — Save us!  We’re dying creatively out here.  Television is thriving creatively mostly because of cable programming and its influence on the networks to push the envelope (though for every “Mad Men” there are 10 “Kardashians,” but I digress). It’s also serialized.  For those of us who love our stories in one larger sitting, is there no hope at all? I don’t get it.  Have the modes of entertainment changed that much.  Or is it only about getting rich in the shortest possible manner?

Where are you??

If the rich and successful ARE the job creators (duh), uh, Hollywood’s wealthy – where are you?  Are you only interested in creating crappy jobs?  Does that hold for every industry across the country?  Is that why we’re in the pickle we’re in?  Did all the good jobs (and movie projects?) go overseas?  Are we outsourcing ourselves, literally, into creative irrelevance, at least movie wise? (Duh and double duh).

This is certainly not limited to mainstream Hollywood.  Two feature length independent films I saw last weekend at Outfest, the LA gay and lesbian film festival, are not any not better, and in one instance much worse, than any of the movies previously mentioned.  That one in question was, in fact, so hideous, so absolutely without any wit or substance that it was actually embarrassing to watch.  Not so for the director, who proudly hawked DVD’s of his previous films prior to this screening, much to the delight of a packed crowd at 10pm on a Sat night (which, it should be noted, is really the shank of the evening in gay time).  Maybe that’s what it takes nowadays – absolute nerve and hype that whatever product you’re pedaling is the coolest thing in the world.  Perhaps in this case, indie and mainstream moviemaking are more alike and have always been more alike than I want to believe.  I might take a moment to sob just about now.

That's showbiz, kid

But just as I’m ready to give up I read that Glenn Close has a movie being released at the end of the year called “Albert Nobbs,” where she plays a woman who poses as a male butler in 1890s Ireland that is said to likely be one of this year’s top Oscar picks.  I also read that Ms Close has been pushing to get it made as a film since she played it off-Broadway nearly 30 years ago.  Kudos to her.  But thirty years???  Well, okay.

Working on her EGOT

And then there was the really interesting independent movie “Weekend” that I saw last night at Outfest by young British filmmaker Andrew Haigh that very much evoked the imaginative rawly emotional work of the young John Cassavettes.  That was really promising and very bold and daring.  So there is that.  Not to mention the idea for a new script I thought of on my own a few nights ago that I’m just starting to take notes on and will continue researching and outlining this weekend.  I’m starting to get excited to explore this new world and see what I can get down on paper.  Perhaps I’ll even manage a little self-discovery in the process.

Hmm., who needs new bathrooms when we have all of that?

Plain White Shirt

Hollywood and Highland is a shopping complex in Los Angeles that not only has the home of the Oscars – the Kodak Theatre – but a maze of so many stores, shops and places to eat (that don’t quite satisfy your hunger) that few people living in the city frequent it if it can at all be avoided.  It’s not that it’s particularly bad but it’s overdone, confusing, doesn’t have anything really necessary that you can’t get somewhere else and is a chore to navigate through and park.

I was there to see a matinee of the new Robert Redford film, “The Conspirator,” because I assigned my writing students to see the film, and didn’t get a chance to go to it this weekend, and consistently chastise my students when they complain about getting off their —-s and going out to movie theatres.  (And, being a period drama, it wasn’t playing anywhere else.  On that score, we’re lucky to even see it at a movie theatre and not straight to video).

Hollywood and Highland is still home to the revamped Mann’s (formerly Grauman’s) Chinese Theatre, part of a landmark that wasn’t at all confusing because it’s best known for housing the footprints and signatures of our most famous movie stars in dried cement.  Those cement blocks still exist, but in front of a façade adjacent to Hollywood and Highland.  The theatres themselves are three floors up (or more, who can count with so many subterranean and upstairs levels) from the main level inside the complex.  They still have the Chinese logo (hopefully that Chinese writing is not yet deemed offensive, but merely still borderline) but that’s about all of the vintage locale that remains.

As a visitor to L.A. in the seventies, and a transplanted Angelino since the eighties, Grauman’s (as we used to call it, the Chinese theatre) was one of my favorite places.  I mean, who didn’t want to dream of being a movie star (which you could do by literally standing in their footsteps) or feel a connection to the larger than life men and women immortalized in cement?  Even if you didn’t care, who doesn’t remember Lucy trying to steal John Wayne’s footprints and then getting her foot caught in a bucket of quick drying cement, only to then have to drag a new block of wet cement to the Duke’s dressing room and try to get him to unknowingly sign it.  Oh, you don’t remember that?  Well, trust me, it was funny.  And memorable…

(Watch entire episode here)

As for the movie theatres, in the eighties I can remember going first to an advertised sneak preview of “Ghost” at the Chinese and crying despite myself when Demi and Patrick connect again through Whoopi.  I can also recall seeing a screening of a god awful film called “Whispers in the Dark” where Alan Alda is (spoiler alert) exposed at the end as a homicidal killer chasing after someone with a knife on the beach.  Such is the life of movie theatres and I certainly don’t blame the quality of films on the proprietors of any particular movie palace.

What is upsetting is everything else about Theatre #1 at the Chinese these days.    The fact that through half the movie you could hear a blaring soundtrack of something else coming through the walls of the mall or another one the five other theatres in the now sixplex (the manager couldn’t quite determine which).  The fact that with dozens of places to buy refreshments nearby one is almost frisked at the door and told you can’t bring in food or drink from any other locales in the mall or even from home (I did get around this by pouring my hot tea I bought 100 feet away (I have a cold) into an empty cup I got from the concession stand but that’s me and I don’t recommend illegalities).  Add to all this, the fact that there wasn’t one movie in the coming attraction trailers anyone in our audience seemed excited about.  And the fact that the movie we saw wasn’t exciting at all and came from an indisputably talented director and film icon (Robert Redford) and a cast of terrific actors trying a little too hard to make each moment work. And the film had so many lighting tricks that one can’t help but be reminded every two minutes that this is a PERIOD film and that it is meant to be ARTISTIC.  And finally, the fact that there were, oh, about 8 people at the theatres.

My afternoon at the movies and at Hollywood and Highland made me consider just how complicated we try to make everything these days and how unnecessary or at least cumbersome and tedious it all is.  Do we really need endless levels of stores selling nothing of necessity in the center of Hollywood, New York or fill in the downtown center of your city.  (Do not tell me this is capitalism or I will surface through your computer and shoot you). Can’t a movie tell an uncomplicated story in a simple way and still resonate with a contemporary audience?  Or do we need endless bells and whistles?  Can’t a huge underground parking lot be fully open during the day and not littered with endless yellow cones providing you with even more endless arrows that detour you into oblivion?  Yes, I’m a somewhat smart guy but it still took me about 10-15 minutes to figure my way out of there.

WHY IS IT SO COMPLICATED?

Mind you, we’re not talking Mideast politics.  Or the economy.  Or the multi-layered machinations and brain cells that are needed to understand either or both.  We’re just talking about going to a movie and some hot tea.  Greater minds are writing about our two (or is it now three?) wars and our financial system.  I’m a teacher and a screenwriter so I can only speak with authority on getting about town to see a film, and yes, I know how bitter and shallow that sounds (especially since I live in Los Angeles).

Of course, we all know it’s not just movies or the mall. Can you call a company and get a real person, or the person you want to talk to, on the phone without playing a tag team relay race?  Lately I’ve even been detecting a slight annoyance when you call someone on the phone during a business day.  Wouldn’t an email or a text suffice?  Why be so intrusive, I hear them thinking.

Call me Methuselah (the world’s oldest man) but I sometimes like to make direct contact in a simple, straightforward way.  I like my gadgets and the ease of the computer but I also want to feel like I’m driving occasionally.  Not driven to distraction by too many neon lights on my screen or in the mall stores I have no desire to patronize.   Now I really may sound old, which, perhaps (perhaps?) I am, but with age comes wisdom so hear me out.

My dear friend Neil (who is a very talented and famous production designer) and I see it as the plain white shirt argument.  You go out somewhere and someone compliments you not on the shirt, pants, jacket or dress (the latter if you’re female or transgender or transsexual) you’re wearing . Instead, they crave the classic white shirt (or fill in the blank of another classic item) that you bought 10 years ago and now is no longer available – anywhere.   Because, well, they don’t make them anymore.

But can’t I have something plain?

A: No.

Can’t I have something without the color stitching?

A: Uh, uh.

The collar is so big, it looks funny.

A: It’s standard.

Why is this collar so small?

A: Tailoring.

Do I have to have pleats in the back?

A: Yes, it’s special.

The shirt seems awfully long.

A: Oversize.  One size fits all.  Alteration.

The cuffs have all this stuff on it.

A: Logo.

No this.

A: Embroidery signature.

But I can’t I just have a plain white shirt.

A:  Well, sure.  But – we don’t carry them.  Sorry.

Can you recommend any place that does?

Blank stare.  Blank stare.  Silence.  And —

Scene.