Hollywood Dementia LLC | Fiction about the entertainment biz from inside the entertainment biz
Time 2021-11-24 00:17:35Web Name: Hollywood Dementia LLC | Fiction about the entertainment biz from inside the entertainment biz
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keywords: description:Steve ShrottSteve Shrott is an award-winning comedy writer for performers, speakers and entertainers including Joan Rivers, Phyllis Diller and Rodney Dangerfield. His short stories are in publications such as Flame Tree Press's crime anthology alongside Arthur Conan Doyle and Edgar Allan Poe. He has written two humorous mystery novels, Audition For Death and Dead Men Don't Get Married, as well as an instructional manual on how to create humor. He currently has several television and movie scripts at various production companies.
Dan looked left and then right. The only one of these two that might make any sense was busy hopping on one foot as he pissed against a wall. No way was it the other guy. The other guy had no pants and was dragging a shopping cart without wheels. It couldn’t be him. Finally he finished. Dan called out. “Are you Vance?”
The guy who turned wasn’t tall but still somehow seemed it, at least until you got close. Thin, with stick legs, a huge head, rocker hair and a well-worn Judas Priest shirt. Dressed all in black, he looked more like a roadie than a professional security guard. Maybe 50/50?
“Yaa… whatta you want?”
“They… uh, I mean Wilf, told me to report here. I’m Dan… for security…”
“Well, welcome to Hollywood, buddy, or at least my shitty corner of it.”
Vance’s “corner” was actually on the lower East side of Vancouver. It consisted almost entirely of aging trucks, trailers and rental vans parked along a side street. Vance began to swing his arms and point.
“The whole circus is strung out along the block here – plus we got the small parking lot there and then another few trucks around that corner. It’s kind of a fuckin’ pain with the corner ‘cause it makes me have to get out and move around every hour or so. Glad you’re here.”
Dan nodded his head like he understood what was going on – even though he didn’t.
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Jarrod ThalheimerJarrod Thalheimer is a freelance writer and veteran of 200+ film and TV productions. He helped produce the films Being Canadian, Zero Charisma and Chariot. As a union steward, he has directly represented more than 3,000 film crew members across 23 different departments. He also acted on screen with Kelly McGillis and played one-on-one with Martin Sheen.
Part Two by David A. Holden CGI, Digital Technology, Fiction, Film, Short Story, Special Effects, Studios, TV, Visual Effects 1
Jerry glances at the clock: ten a.m. He rolls back to his workstation, where the screensaver catches his attention. It’s the logo of his company, an abstract depiction of a fishing boat about to be engulfed by a monstrous wave – the scene from the movie that made his special effects company’s reputation. Just looking at it now depresses him. The artwork for the logo, even using the still frame from the film, cost twenty-five grand, reminding him of that era of seeming limitless resources. Jerry hits the space bar on the keyboard just to get rid of the damn logo.
A buzzing at the office door jolts Jerry out of his reverie. He finds a cheerful woman with a latte and cinnamon roll, his usual order from the corner kiosk. He pays her and settles back in his work chair. The cinnamon roll in his stomach congeals into a rock. Without looking Jerry reaches into the drawer beneath the desk, pulls out a bottle of Tums, and pops a few. Is it too early to call Hal Rosen, the studio exec, and check up on the Disney deal? Jerry reaches for the phone but realizes that calling would be a faux pas. In New York, a call like that would mean you really wanted the job and you’d work extra hard if you got it. In L.A. it was a sign of weakness, of desperation.
Jerry asks Emily to invite Hal and his wife Lisa over for dinner – and for Emily to make her killer bouillabaisse. Emily and Lisa know each other not only from college but from their charity work for the Dream Center, and their daughters sometimes go horseback riding together. The evening is pleasant; business is never discussed. Upstairs their girls watch an old video and giggle a lot.
Late that night, after the guests have gone, Emily vomits up the fish stew. Then it’s Jerry’s turn. This goes on until three in the morning when it strikes Jerry that Hal and Lisa might be having the same reaction. First Jerry checks on their own daughter, who feels fine except for her resentment at being awoken in the middle of the night. Then Jerry calls Hal’s home number. No answer. He tries Hal’s cell and, to his surprise, Hal’s daughter answers. She’s with her parents at the emergency room at the City of Hope, just checking them in.
Oh, shit, Jerry thinks. “What’s happening?” he asks.
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David A. HoldenDavid A. Holden is a film editor mentored by the acclaimed Verna Fields and directors Walter Hill and Jeremy Kagan. Along the way he worked on Peter Weir’s The Dead Poet’s Society, Ed Zwick’s Legends Of The Fall and Charles Haig’s Riders Of The Purple Sage among many others. He is a member of AMPAS and a past member of the DGA. He recently completed a screenplay and is currently revising his time-travel novel thriller, Fugue.
Part One by David A. Holden CGI, Digital Technology, Fiction, Film, Short Story, Special Effects, Studios, TV, Visual Effects 2
If you’re looking for warm and fuzzy, look elsewhere. The Hollywood tabloids and online rumormongers only let the matter pass because, at first, Jerry Switzer didn’t merit their attention and, by the time the full bloom of his foulness became known, the subject was old news. But for those of us in the entertainment industry, Jerry’s downfall wasn’t schadenfreude as much as there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I.
Jerry worked as a highly paid specialist in Hollywood’s visual effects industry, conjuring his wizardry of transforming or heightening reality not on the chaos of the set but later, at the quiet of a humming computer workstation. From about nine in the morning until long after dark, he toned up the visuals of countless film and commercial images for FloMotion, a company which made its reputation years earlier depicting ocean waves on the big screen with such detailed realism that you would never believe they were filmed in what amounted to an oversized bathtub.
Louise and I both had known Jerry and his lovely wife Emily since college at Cal Arts. Back then Jerry was a regular guy, a bit of a social slouch, but he laughed at our jokes and occasionally came up with one of his own. If we laughed, he glowed as if finally being accepted by our group. Which we considered him to be: he was one of us.
I don’t pretend to know the whole account; I can only try to piece it together after the fact. Jerry was my friend; that is to say that I knew him over a period of years and we and our wives and families went to the beach, had cookouts together, those sorts of things. One pristine spring day, before any of us had kids, we even hiked the length of Malibu Canyon – a sobering thought looking back now.
Jerry and I also knew each other professionally, so I have a minor role to play in this saga. I have this to say: the Jerry I knew was a good man, devoted to his wife and daughter, considerate of his employees, an all-around true-blue-swell guy.
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David A. HoldenDavid A. Holden is a film editor mentored by the acclaimed Verna Fields and directors Walter Hill and Jeremy Kagan. Along the way he worked on Peter Weir’s The Dead Poet’s Society, Ed Zwick’s Legends Of The Fall and Charles Haig’s Riders Of The Purple Sage among many others. He is a member of AMPAS and a past member of the DGA. He recently completed a screenplay and is currently revising his time-travel novel thriller, Fugue.
Not Nearly As Good As Side “A” by Jay Abramowitz Tom Musca Agents, Book Excerpt, Executives, Fiction, Showrunners, TV, TV Sitcoms, TV Writers Leave a comment
Warren Brace understood why he was so upset about the abortive pitch, and it wasn’t because a truckload of hundred-dollar bills with his name on them had disappeared into a sinkhole. Most of the sitcoms he’d worked on, and all of those he and Mitch had created, had at best been well-crafted diversions — intended to entertain, to distract, maybe to teach obvious lessons to children. They calmed and confirmed the status quo. But he knew sitcoms were capable of zeroing in not on what America thought it was, or pretended it was, but on what it was. Father Knows Best had the perfect dad guiding the perfect family in the perfect home in the perfect country, but The Honeymooners had a loud fat loser in a dingy apartment railing against his wife and the booming nation that had left him behind – and it was funny.
Warren wanted to make people laugh like his heroes had, like Lenny Bruce, like Mad Magazine at its best, like Richard Pryor. He wanted to offer viewers not pacifiers but funhouse mirrors. And thereby to steer the national conversation like his old pal Norman Lear. The dilution of the television audience since All In The Family by hundreds of cable channels, video streaming and all the rest had made it much harder to create a series that tens of millions would watch, much less remember and talk about, feel about.
Warren hadn’t shared all his hopes for the dinosaur show with anyone, not even Mitch; they sounded ridiculous and pretentious even when he thought them to himself. But he believed that, beneath the raucous nonsensical veneer of that series was a foundation that could support a deep, wide, hilarious rendering of America as he saw it and spark proverbial watercooler conversations across the country.
Within the hour, Mitch was dashing from Warren’s rundown BMW toward Warren’s rundown home, leaving his partner to hobble around his vehicle to shut the passenger door. Which required an extra shove from his right haunch that generated, in addition to a fresh jolt of back pain, a dull ache in his abdomen where Warren had punched him in the TV network’s elevator.
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Jay Abramowitz Tom MuscaJay Abramowitz and Tom Musca have collaborated on and off since UCLA Film School. Find their new novel Formerly Cool at www.FormerlyCool.com. Jay has written and produced a dozen sitcoms and comedy pilots for Warner Bros, CBS and ABC. He was head writer on the PBS series Liberty’s Kids, which animated the American Revolution with the voices of Dustin Hoffman, Annette Bening, Liam Neeson, Michael Douglas and Billy Crystal. Tom Musca is the producer and co-writer of Stand And Deliver which garnered six Independent Spirit Awards, an Oscar nomination and selection to the National Film Registry. His credits include Tortilla Soup, Gotta Kick It Up!, Money For Nothing, Race, Little Nikita, I Hate Sundays and Make Love Great Again. He recently wrote, produced and directed the comedy Chateau Vato. He heads the MFA Screenwriting Program at University of Miami.
Recent Fossil Evidence by Jay Abramowitz Tom Musca Book Excerpt, Executives, Fiction, Showrunners, TV, TV Sitcoms, TV Writers 4
Calling in his last ancient chit, Warren Brace had talked a former junior colleague into issuing a drive-on to get them through the front gate. The rest would be up to him.
He piloted his old BMW convertible, its torn roof folded down out of view so as not to humiliate its occupants, toward the visitors’ lot. Fifty-eight and no longer an athlete –- he was even done with pick-up basketball, the risk of injury now far outweighing the pleasure he got from playing Warren wore a sports jacket, faded jeans, and a bright new T-shirt with a hip (his son Clay had assured him) image of an audio cassette above the slight paunch that poked over the top of his seat belt. After extensive experimentation with hair coloring he’d left the gray specks in his beard, which he’d carefully trimmed to look untrimmed. Just this morning he’d noticed the beginnings of what he’d assumed were facial warts. Warren, once a Golden Boy, had begun to believe he’d be an odd-looking old man.
Mitch Flomenhoft, four years younger, nearly a foot shorter and more informally unshaven, with hair another former colleague had described as “bozine” after her favorite frizzy-haired TV clown, wore red Converse sneakers and a flowery Hawaiian shirt that most people who’d never known a joke writer would consider antithetical to his dignity. Under the shirt, on his left shoulder, the Charlie Chaplin tattoo hed treated himself to upon moving to Hollywood decades earlier had aged to look less like Chaplin and more like Hitler.
Mitch glowered at the dashboard clock. “We’re over an hour early,” Mitch said. “I told you there’d be no traffic.”
If Warren had told his partner the real reason he’d picked him up at 9 AM for an 11 AM meeting less than half an hour away -– that there was no 11 AM meeting and they were in the midst of a con job that Warren had been meticulously planning for months in an effort to resuscitate their drowned careers -– Mitch’s pride and rage would never have permitted him to get into the car. “I knew they’d make us park out where the slaves are picking cotton,” said Warren as he drove them farther and farther from their destination on the lot. “And you have to get into costume.”
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Jay Abramowitz Tom MuscaJay Abramowitz and Tom Musca have collaborated on and off since UCLA Film School. Find their new novel Formerly Cool at www.FormerlyCool.com. Jay has written and produced a dozen sitcoms and comedy pilots for Warner Bros, CBS and ABC. He was head writer on the PBS series Liberty’s Kids, which animated the American Revolution with the voices of Dustin Hoffman, Annette Bening, Liam Neeson, Michael Douglas and Billy Crystal. Tom Musca is the producer and co-writer of Stand And Deliver which garnered six Independent Spirit Awards, an Oscar nomination and selection to the National Film Registry. His credits include Tortilla Soup, Gotta Kick It Up!, Money For Nothing, Race, Little Nikita, I Hate Sundays and Make Love Great Again. He recently wrote, produced and directed the comedy Chateau Vato. He heads the MFA Screenwriting Program at University of Miami.
"Hit you for a favor?" Gregorian asked as he and Salter strolled toward their cars after an hour of pickup basketball at a park in Santa Monica.
"Fire away."
"A partner and I have a psychological thriller were getting ready to shoot –"
"And?"
"Mind taking a look at the script?"
As though monitored by some advanced form of Google Earth, Salters phone rang the very instant he finished reading the screenplay.
Asked Gregorian, "What do you think?"
"See the Dodger game last night?"
"Youre ducking."
"Yup."
"Cmon, Im a big boy. Tell me your thoughts."
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Alan SwyerAlan Swyer is a writer, director and producer for film, television and music. His work ranges from HBO’s much-honored Rebound (Don Cheadle, Forrest Whitaker) to The Buddy Holly Story. A prolific documentarian, his Beisbol won the Imagen Award and his Diabetes the Golden Mic Award. His most recent film is From Harlem To Hollywood about music legend Billy Vera screened at the Grammy Museum. He has produced an album of Ray Charles love songs, and published numerous short stories. His novel The Beard was recently published by Harvard Square Editions.
Jason Black’s work area is a cold grey-walled room with no furnishings other than his desk and chair. A pale overweight quite ordinary-looking screenwriter of the blockbuster Slicer film series, he’s dressed in standard writer gear: sweater and jeans with black plastic-framed glasses sitting slightly askew on his face. He breathes a deep sigh, then takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. He’s exhausted.
The phone rings. The cell phone screen reads: Asshole Agent.
Jason smirks and picks up the phone.
“Yeah, Mark,” answers Jason with a hint of disdain.
“Mark Stevens here, Jason.”
“I know, Mark. What is it?”
“Howya doin’ on Slicer, The Killing Kontinues?”
“It’s done. I changed the title to Slicer, Just Like the Old Slicer. In Fact It’s Pretty Much Exactly Like Every Slicer. ”
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Steve YoungSteve Young is an award-winning TV writer who wrote and directed the spoof film My Dinner With Ovitz. A former contributing editor of Written By magazine and political editor of National Lampoon, he has written for The New York Times, Los Angeles Times and Philadelphia Inquirer. He authored the non-fiction book Great Failures Of The Extremely Successful and the HarperCollins published, Winchell Mink, The Misadventures Begin and 15 Minutes.
Sunset plays gentle with crumbling mansions and women. Bathed in the bloody light of a death-bound day, there was nothing between her front door and the sun except the Pacific. Between her and the sun was me and my chainsaw. She shielded her eyes.
“You won’t need that,” she said. “He already fell down dead.”
“Yeah, but I only got a Ford flatbed, not a semi.”
“I wanted to spare him the indignity of an autopsy.”
“Call another landscaper.”
She thought about it briefly. “You’re late, by the way.” Sunset showed who she was, or used to be: Vera North, straight-to-DVD splatter star supreme. She caught the flicker, and knew she was no longer mortal in my eyes. “Never mind,” she said.
Most past-it movie actresses get screechy when menials presume to knock on their front doors. Vera, who’d died a thousand slow gory excruciating dismemberment deaths for public consumption, was past caring. She asked if I wanted a cocktail.
Drinks clinked on the way out to the backyard, where we viewed the deceased.
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Matthew LichtMatthew Licht spent nearly five years as a Hollywood writer. Two short story collections were nominated for the Frank O'Connor Prize. He has just finished Fables Of Impending Ecological Disaster and is working on The White And The Black, a novel of Art History and Zen Buddhism. His bilngual blog Hotel Kranepool is on the website Stanza 251. His new book Enigma 17 is due out from Origini Edizioni.
Dan’s unraveling began with the search for a new assistant and fully bloomed with a stupid fight his son had at school.
Gabe, his newly promoted assistant at the talent agency, was arguing with the HR woman, whose name Dan couldn’t bother to remember, right outside his office door.
“I was trying to have a call.” He punctuated it with a withering look shot at them both.
“Sorry, Dan,” Gabe offered. The HR woman just looked away. Gabe took the résumé from the HR woman’s hand and passed it to Dan, who’d left the entire process of weeding through the applicants to Gabe, only interviewing the final three to meet his high standards. Dan had rejected them all. “You don’t want to see this person.”
Dan began scanning this latest application. A woman who’d attended a community college in the Valley.
“She is extremely bright, competent and organized,” said the HR woman, defending her choice. “I think you should at least meet her.”
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George NickleGeorge Nickle has written for television, magazines and websites. He earned a BFA at the University of the North Carolina School of the Arts’ School of Filmmaking. He founded Sovereign Management where he worked as a talent manager, was an agent for Japanese Visual Artists at ARTas1 and became head of sales for Sovereign Distribution.
Monday
Ben was trying to get on the show Pipeliners. It occupied his every waking thought.
In the gym, at WiSpa, getting French Basque dinner at Taix, during AA meetings, at home in Echo Park, on a third date with this Mexican TV actress named Gina Arana who said she was a Taurus and drove a Mustang, getting coffee at Tierra Mia, doing his Instagram, yoga, writing, reading pilot scripts, attending a meeting at the WGA, eating vegan food at Sage and pretending he liked it — it was all he thought about. Pipeliners, the new show in town that was hiring. Open writing staff. All levels. He was submitted for it and he was in with a shot.
Pipeliners was all he thought about because it was the only thing worth thinking about. That’s how it is: you want it, you have to take it. That’s what Hollywood teaches you.
A couple of writers he knew from the Writers’ Room on White Heat, the show he’d been on three years ago, had called him over the weekend and asked him if he’d been submitted for Pipeliners, too. White Heat had been kind of a Golden Age for them all, and the writers were still all tight. They shared info, they met for lunch and dinners still.
He told them he was being submitted for it, too.
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Matt GrahamMatt Graham is a screenwriter and novelist who worked on the Showtime series Oliver Stone's The Untold History Of The United States as well as the forthcoming drama One Giant Leap, a dark retelling of the 1969 race to the Moon. He's the scripter of feature films The Boyfriend and Doosra, both set to be released this year as well as numerous TV pilots. He's recently worked as script consultant on the new Netflix India horror series Ghoul.
My jokes fall flat.
I’m flailing in the room and have been for weeks, maybe months.
My one-liners are stepped on. My blows don’t land and my tags are talked over. My asides fall from the side of mouth, stillborn. My pitches sputter out as I’m met with angled heads and scrunched brows. And those are the rare spurts when I’m vocalizing. The bulk of the long days my mouth moves only to chew stale Costco gum. I stare at the story notes scrawled on the greaseboard like they were rocket science. I play mind games with the clock.
I used to be, what is known in the industry, as “good in the room.” Some guys are great at breaking stories, others have a knack for delegating, there are the anti-social ones who churn out killer scripts, ones who can’t write but excel at punch-up. Fitzy always said a room was doomed to fail without a token fat guy who laughed a lot for good luck.
I’m the all around utility man. “Meet Don,” I imagine my agents pitching me to employers. “He’s been around the block. He’s good in a room.”
At least, I was.
Then Ethan arrived. He replaced our previous assistant, Tonya who left mid-season after getting an offer from a streaming service to develop a series based on her social media feed. Or something like that. At least Tonya kept the fridge stocked with La Croix and tread lightly.
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Duncan BirminghamDuncan Birmingham wrote and executive produced Maron (starring Marc Maron). He was a writer/co-executive producer on Blunt Talk on Starz. Most recently he was a consulting producer on Rob Riggle's Jet Ski Academy. He's the author of the humor book, Pets Who Want To Kill Themselves and his screenplay Swingles was on The Blacklist and is in development at Paramount. His first short film, Excuse Me, premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and his later short films have played at AFI, GenArt and the New York Film Festival.
Part Six by Duane Byrge Actors, Book Excerpt, Crime, Fiction, Film, Film Critics, Film Festivals, Journalists, Media, Moguls, Producers, Starlets 1
Ingrid Bjorge stretched across the hotel bed, then opened her eyes. “Good morning. I did not know you were here,” she said as she propped herself up.
“You were asleep when I came in last night. I didn’t want to wake you.” Ryan claimed.
Just as the Norwegian actress opened the room door, Ryans girlfriend Delisha nearly collided with her as the fashion model leaned forward to knock. She carried a bottle of Cristal and an envelope addressed to Ryan that was left for him at the front desk.
Ryan gestured toward Ingrid. “Does she look familiar to you?”
Delisha stared at Ingrid for a long second, then gazed at her from a side angle. She pointed to the window. “Look out in that direction with your chin tilted up. Look real serious.” Ingrid followed her direction, angling her head and gazing off with a blank expression.
Delisha clasped her hands. “It’s crazy. Is it true? Is it true?”
“Yes,” Ryan answered.
Delisha embraced Ingrid. “Oh, my God, the star of The Ice Princess. What is going on?”
“Thats what were trying to figure out,” Ryan said. “Delisha, you can’t tell anyone in the meantime about Ingrids being alive. Not a word.”
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Duane ByrgeDuane Byrge worked for The Hollywood Reporter as news editor, senior film critic, reviews editor, box office analyst and reporter. He is currently Coordinator of Film Studies at Virginia State University. Three of his books are published: Screwball Comedy Films, Private Screenings and his newest Behind the Scenes With Top Hollywood Producers. He has two novels: The Red Carpet and Sundown In Sundance in progress.
Part Five by Duane Byrge Actors, Book Excerpt, Crime, Fiction, Film, Film Festivals, Journalists, Media, Moguls, Producers, Starlets Leave a comment
In the days since Ingrid Bjorges death, the entire Norwegian nation had taken the slain actress to its heart. The Ice Princess starlet’s murder when she and her film were supposed to open the first night of the Cannes Film Festival was a countrywide shock. Now her body would arrive on the ferry in a few minutes, then be carried by Viking pallbearers to the pyre.
The Bygdoy Peninsula is the untrammeled part of Norway’s capital city, the area with the museums and the Viking burial mounds. With its aggressive environmental protection laws, the Norwegian nation had kept it largely off limits to developers. An editorial in that morning’s Dagbladet acknowledged the irony of having the multibillionaire oil developer Gunnar Severeid, the mogul behind her movie, using it for the site of Ingrid’s funeral.
Following the autopsy, she had been transported back to her homeland on Gunnars personal plane, a Gulfstream G650. Her ashes had been placed earlier that morning in a magnificent oak coffin in Oslo. On this day of national mourning, Norway’s crown prince Harald had delivered a moving eulogy at the Ibsen Theater in Kungs Gate Park.
Erik Bjorge, the costume designer of The Ice Princess and Ingrids one-time husband, had gotten little sleep in the last several days. The Cannes police had grilled him, and, even more vexing, Gunnar had questioned him aggressively about the evening of the murder. With his fashion line positioned for the entire world to see at the premiere of The Ice Princess, Erik had believed he would be the Versace of Norway, the Gucci of the fjords. Now that dream was gone. Most of his clothing creations were still on a shipping vessel back in the Cannes harbor. He never bothered to unload it after Ingrid was killed. Instead, he went back to Oslo for her funeral.
Considering that Ryan had been up for several nights, found not one but two corpses, been chased through Cannes by what he thought were cops, had delivered an impromptu speech before a packed room of journalists, Ryan wasn’t too worse for wear. He recalled that Sean Connery line from the third Indiana Jones, where Harrison Ford is whizzing along on a motorcycle with his dad clinging on the back for dear life. “This is not archeology,” Connery groused as Indy accelerated away from the bad guys.
“This is not film criticism,” Ryan muttered to himself.
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Duane ByrgeDuane Byrge worked for The Hollywood Reporter as news editor, senior film critic, reviews editor, box office analyst and reporter. He is currently Coordinator of Film Studies at Virginia State University. Three of his books are published: Screwball Comedy Films, Private Screenings and his newest Behind the Scenes With Top Hollywood Producers. He has two novels: The Red Carpet and Sundown In Sundance in progress.
Part Four by Duane Byrge Actors, Book Excerpt, Crime, Fiction, Film, Film Critics, Film Festivals, Journalists, Media, Producers, TV News Leave a comment
There were enough security guards to stock an island dictatorship. Instead of colorful uniforms with feathered hats, gaudy medals and polished swords, they wore Armani tuxedos. The crack unit stood at attention in front of the mansion gate for the Cannes Film Festivals elegant party. Despite their disciplined pose, their eyes were riveted on Ryan’s model girlfriend Delisha.
Within seconds, an attendant pulled up with a gleaming Aston Martin V12 bestowed on Ryan for the long drive back to town and belonging to one of the movie producer-distributors. At least half the valet parkers rushed to help Delisha into the passenger side. She slid into the classic vehicle. “Allons y,” Delisha called out, bestowing a celebratory wave.
Ryan idled the car as the iron gates snapped open with crisp precision, spreading their steel in a deferential backward swoop, like an old-fashioned servant. Only then did Ryan punch the pedal and sail through the estate’s stone entrance.
Delisha clasped his hand. “Home, James.”
“Bond, James Bond,” Ryan called out in his best 007 accent.
Delisha giggled and planted a quick kiss on his neck. For the moment, Ryan felt like the glamorous super-agent. The trouble was: he didnt really know how to work a shift. Maybe, if it was all downhill, they could continue in this gear.
“Youre grinding. Youve got to let it out,” Delisha said.
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Duane ByrgeDuane Byrge worked for The Hollywood Reporter as news editor, senior film critic, reviews editor, box office analyst and reporter. He is currently Coordinator of Film Studies at Virginia State University. Three of his books are published: Screwball Comedy Films, Private Screenings and his newest Behind the Scenes With Top Hollywood Producers. He has two novels: The Red Carpet and Sundown In Sundance in progress.
Part Three by Duane Byrge Actors, Animal Performers, Book Excerpt, Crime, Fiction, Film, Film Critics, Film Festivals, Journalists, Media, Moguls, Producers Leave a comment
When the Hollywood New Times chief film reporter swooped out of the elevator, he nearly ran down the trades top film critic, Ryan Hackbert. “You haven’t returned any of my messages,” Stan Peck said as he came through the entrance to the Hotel Savoy. ”I’d like to get your side of the story.” Peck pulled out a digital recorder and flicked the switch.
“My side of the story is nothing,” Ryan answered. “The police asked me in for questioning and were satisfied with my answers. I know nothing about the murder.”
Ryan quickened his step. Peck clicked off the tape and said unhappily, “You know it’s ironic that you, a member of the press, aren’t talking to me, another member of the press.”
“I’m a very ironic guy. You can quote me on that.”
“Seriously, you were hauled in. You said in your review that she should be strangled.”
“I criticized the dialogue. A new editor mangled it with the scarf thing. The police understood,” Ryan answered.
"This murder of yours is screwing up my Cannes coverage," Peck continued. "I’ve got to go to this stupid press conference about it when I should be having breakfast with the TriCoast people. They’re going to announce a new slate." Peck paused to twist the knife a little deeper. "But a lot of people out there still think you’re guilty. That you killed that blond actress from The Ice Princess at the Carlton."
Despite the momentary high of jerking Peck around, Ryan was pissed at himself for giving Peck between-the-lines hints about the police interrogation. As much as Ryan hated to admitt, Peck reflected a fair amount of what would be movie industry opinion, as berserk as that could be. By doing nothing, Ryan was screwing up everyone’s Cannes Film Festival including his own. This was his eleventh time here. He needed to get back into his normal festival mode.
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Duane ByrgeDuane Byrge worked for The Hollywood Reporter as news editor, senior film critic, reviews editor, box office analyst and reporter. He is currently Coordinator of Film Studies at Virginia State University. Three of his books are published: Screwball Comedy Films, Private Screenings and his newest Behind the Scenes With Top Hollywood Producers. He has two novels: The Red Carpet and Sundown In Sundance in progress.
Hollywood Dementia: noun. Defined as the deterioration of intellectual faculties, such as memory, concentration, and judgment, while working in the entertainment industry that causes someone to be unable to understand what is real and what is not real.
Just read this. A great, funny read, glad I caught it finally; puts me in the mood for the Oscars again Really well done. I loved it. This captures the bleak and beautiful melancholy of the post-Elmore Leonard Hollywood writer-scape. Outrageous fortunes surfed with a anaesthesiac zen... I’m always craving more real Hollywood slice of life narratives like this that show the pockets of success and rejection that encompass a life in the... I really enjoyed the story this begs a sequel: on the authors second run in with Constantine Makkos I work in reality tv and this is NOT FICTION. Well done, Mark! Crushing. Aside from the fact that we seem to go to all the same places : WiSpa, Tierra Mia, Sage (also pretending to like it), your story is m... Really enjoyed this. Kept me guessing as to how it would exactly play out (there were a couple possibilities). But I enjoyed the ultimate choices made... Thank you! A little late I know. Just checked!!!!! Good story. I KNEW the end and u didnt let me down. Thx! Follow Nikki On Twitter Tweets by @NikkiFinke Search Hollywood DementiaDaily Most Popular Good In A Room Diary Of A Mad Executive Vanilla Shake Dead Or Alive America’s Twit Sassy Black Girlfriend Agency Inc.Part Two Guarding Gable
Part Two Working From Home Dan The Man Add An Umlaut Authors Adam Scott Weissman Aimee DeLong Alan Swyer Allison Silver Amanda Moresco Amy Sohn Ann Hamilton Anne Goursaud Antonia Bogdanovich Barbara Guggenheim Barry Strugatz Bernard Weinraub Bertram Fields Bill Scheft Bruce Wagner Cari Lynn Caroline Ryder Christine Elise McCarthy Christopher Horton Cynthia Mort Dale Kutzera Daniel M. Kimmel Daniel Weizmann David A. Holden David Freeman David H. Steinberg David Ker Schermerhorn Dennis McDougal Diane Haithman Diane Lisa Johnson Doug Richardson Duane Byrge Duncan Birmingham Dylan Mulick Eric Bogosian Eric Gethers Eric Idle Eric Layer Eric Moyer Geoff Nicholson George Nickle Gilli Messer Gordy Grundy Hank Putnam Harry Dunn Heather E. Ash Howard Jay Klein Howard Rosenberg Ian Randall Wilson J.M. Rosenfield Jacob Isser James Dawson James Hayward James Kaelan Jarrod Thalheimer Jason Pomerance Jay Abramowitz Jay Abramowitz Tom Musca Jeffrey Peter Bates Jim Piazza John Bensink John D. Ferguson John Donald Carlucci John Kane John Schouweiler Jon Jack Raymond Jordan Pope Jordan Riefe Juliana Ashe Katherine Tomlinson Keith Garsee Ken Pisani Kevin Wilson L.C. Folk Larry Amoros Laurie Benenson Laurie Horowitz Leslie Epstein Linda Boroff Linda Temkin Lynn Isenberg Mark Fearing Mark Jonathan Harris Matt Graham Matthew Licht Maureen Harrington Maya Sloan Michael Barrie Michael Brandman Michael Burns Michael Elias Michael Larrain Michael Tolkin Michelle Blair Wilker Morgan Hobbs Nat Segaloff Ned Dymoke Nikki Finke Pasha Adam Peter Davis Peter Lefcourt Quendrith Johnson Rich Johnston Richard Natale Richard Rothstein Robert Schwartz Robert Welkos Ron Zwang Ronald Alexander Sagit Maier-Schwartz Sara Hammel Stephanie Carlisi Stephen Whitty Steve De Jarnatt Steve Shrott Steve Young Steven Axelrod Steven Mallas Stewart Nan Strawberry Saroyan Thelma Adams Thomas McCafferty Thomas Roberdeau Tom Benedek Tom Musca Tom Ruprecht Tom Teicholz Wayras Olivier William Faulkner Zak Shaikh
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