No Meaner Place

September 1, 2010

“There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition.” Rod Serling

“The Last Hundred Days” by James Thorpe

What: A freak temporary time warp has allowed Jake Connolly the chance to see what will happen to the Earth in little more than 3 months – the exact amount of time that Jake will have to alert people to the catastrophe that awaits them and try to prevent it.

Who: Jake Connolly, a UC Berkeley physicist, is on location at the CERN Anti-Proton laboratory, 300 feet below Geneva, Switzerland, where he and his fellow scientists are about to demonstrate their newest finding in antimatter on the antiproton decelerator. While on location, he takes pleasure in communicating with his wife Karen, son Scott and daughter Molly via webcam. It’s almost as though he’s there with them.

Back above ground, in Colorado, NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) has spotted a tracker, an unaccounted aircraft off the East Coast. The sighting of this unresponsive aircraft has elevated the threat level to DEFCON 2 and then 1, resulting in the evacuation of the President and his family, and set off a chain reaction at all other air force bases. The unidentified object, invisible but for its appearance as a blip on a radar screen, appears to initiate a series of atmospheric anomalies – lightning flashes, high-pitched crackles and static across the sky – that result in massive electrical power losses.

Ext. Sky over Eastern Seaboard – Day

In the sky above, clouds roil and the air pulses with the deafening static. Lightning arcs over cities and towns. Killing all electrical systems. Power everywhere dies. Automobile engines stop – cars, trucks and busses coast into collisions. Men, women, children drop dead in their tracks. And as lifeless birds rain down on Armageddon…

Jake receives a frantic webcam communication from his family. Planes are dropping out of the sky, windows are shattering, and fireballs are exploding. He sees and hears their terror up to the moment that the screen goes black. Frantic, no longer able to communicate with his home, Jake brings up a satellite image of the West Coast, zooming down to Berkeley at street level and then to his house. Panning the neighborhood littered with dead bodies, he catches movement.

He pans the sat video over to where a young blonde woman stirs. Opens her eyes. Sea-green. And then a veil descends over the pupils, turns her irises deep black. She rises. Looks down at her lifeless male companion. And smiles.

The Young woman strides down the street, leaving a trail of falling blonde hair, molting from her head.

Now almost completely bald, her face wrinkles. Sags basset-hound-like. Skin peels from the top of her skull… dropping, sloughing, shedding, until it reveals – an alien creature.

While Jake is incredulously watching the screen, the anti-proton decelerator begins spiking, probably due to atmospheric conditions, the generators go into overdrive; Jake dives for the kill switch just as he’s blown sky high; he plummets to the ground as the generators explode and then “Jake vanishes in a brilliant ball of Light,” waking up in a green field in the Italian countryside on April 9, 100 days in the past. And so starts the adventure where Jake must try to convince the authorities (and even his incredulous family) of what will happen 100 days hence; authorities, some of whom may be the very aliens that will later emerge and some of whom are knowingly working with those aliens. Revealing his knowledge, Jake becomes a marked man – he’s either crazy or, worse, he knows too much and must be eliminated. Jake is forced to take refuge with a group of alien conspiracy theorists, some who may actually know what will happen and have uncovered an alien-human alliance. They, too, are being tracked by “the authorities.”

Serena: Did you read this? The professor’s phone transcript?

Harry: Same old same old. Abduction memories resurfacing in dreams, waking visions. (shrugs) Sometimes the mindwipes don’t take. Although, I must admit the time-travel, Armageddon fantasy was a novel touch. Sort of… Terminator meets The Nutty Professor.

Serena: But Connolly actually described one of the hybrids hatching. On earth.

Harry: We both know that’s impossible. The incubation period alone… well, it’s going to be another fifty years before we fully harmonize. By that time you and I’ll be long gone, and the hybrids will be someone else’s headache.

And off they go to mindwipe another of the alien conspiracy theorists; or in this case, worse…

No Meaner Place: Thorpe has written a gripping, fast paced thriller that relies as much on visual aspects as it does on dialog to tell the story. Working every angle of conspiracy theory and convincingly playing to the physics of time travel, the viewer is left gasping at the possibilities and even some probabilities. I am especially impressed with how he has tapped into the kind of paranoiac subtext done so well in the original “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” Though written several years ago, he has written a counter culture heroine, Tamara, whose physical description and temperament almost entirely matches that of Lizbeth Salander, the anti-heroine of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Like so much of the Sci-Fi genre, the women are strong and resourceful and the men are reluctantly heroic. The “what if’s” and the “could be’s” are deliciously explored.

Although the visuals lead one to believe that this might be an expensive series to produce, it’s inconceivable to me that someone didn’t see this as a possible successor to “Lost.” Mysterious circumstances, different groups of people, dark villains, anti-heroes, leaders, followers … HELLO? A little imagination here folks.

Life Lessons for Writers: Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean THEY aren’t out to get you.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: You’re in Canada!

James: I’m in Vancouver, Canada working on “Sanctuary” and I’ve been here since last February. July was our hiatus so I got to go home and have conjugal visits with my wife again for the month. Now I’m here again till the end of October.

Neely: That’s not a totally unworkable timeframe. But I thought that the writing staffs remained in LA on most of the American-Canadian shows.

James: Most of them do. But this show is what they call a “Canadian 10-out-of-10” meaning it’s all Canadian content. The actors, writers and crew are all Canadian, and it’s shot in Vancouver, which helps qualify it for federal and provincial tax credits. So, that’s why I’m here.

Neely: There are worse places to be.

James: You know there are a lot of worse places I could be… I could be in Starbucks writing a spec script.

Neely: One of my best friends lives in Vancouver and it’s a fabulous city.

James: I agree. It’s a lovely place. And as I tell my wife, at least we’re in the same time zone this time. She’s a movie producer and travels all over as well. We’re kind of used to it.

Neely: Well, let’s just start at the beginning and go from there. First of all, let me say how much I loved the script. So, James, what kind of research did you do for this pilot?

James: Quantum Physics has always been a kind of peculiar hobby of mine. I’ve done a lot of layman reading on the subject. I’m fascinated by Einstein’s discoveries. I also came across a lot of reports on the Philadelphia Experiment and realized how much the technology dovetailed. That led me into time travel research, which led me into conspiracy websites. The whole thing percolated for a few years and then it all finally came together.

Neely: Let’s go back a bit. What was the Philadelphia Experiment?

James: The Philadelphia Experiment took place in 1943. It was allegedly an experiment by the U.S. government using the top scientists of the day to see if they could make a ship invisible to radar. The plan was to create a massive electro-magnetic field around the ship that would block it from being picked up on radar. According to popular lore, when they attempted this, the ship actually vanished; it physically left our time and space and was catapulted into another dimension. When they halted the experiment, the ship returned but some of the crew members on the ship were dead, some were insane and some came back imbedded in the steel walls of the ship. It was as if the whole thing slipped through space and time and then came back.

Neely: Whoa!

James: I know. It was the U.S.S. Eldredge and this is what the “Philadelphia Experiment” movie was based on a few years ago. Actually 10 or 20 years ago by now.

Neely: It was more than 25 years ago but we didn’t notice because we slipped through time and space and have just come back.

James: (laughs) Exactly. So this “experiment” took place right around the time of Einstein’s research and shortly after the atom bomb was developed. There are a lot of threads you can connect if you like.

Neely: I loved the alien conspiracy in your script, but more than that, I loved the throw-away line in there about how much power it would take to reverse time. So, in some future far far far away – could this actually happen? In other words, according to the laws of physics, is it theoretically possible?

James: According to some laws of physics it definitely is. I think that everyone agrees that the universe is vibrationally based. In other words, a table is not really a table and a chair is not really a chair – they’re just a collection of atoms and molecules all vibrating at a similar frequency that our eyes perceive as this physical mass called a chair or a table. So therefore, we’re dealing with energy. And as we learned in physics back in grade school, energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Therefore, if you like, the past, as energy, exists now, perhaps in some parallel dimension; even Einstein said that all time exists always. So if this reality that we call a reality is just a perception and we can manipulate our point of view or retune our receiver, it may actually be possible for us to peek into the past. Of course, the same can be said of the future, which opens up a whole other conversation. Let’s say you have an am radio set to 88.5 then you’re not going to simultaneously pick up an fm channel broadcasting at 94.7. But if we can somehow change the frequency tuning of ourselves, we should be able to move back and forth in time and space quite easily.

Neely: Wow. You really have worked on this. Did you take a lot of physics in college?

James: I failed math and science in high school and went right from high school into a technology college for television broadcasting. I was either going to become a criminal lawyer or work in television. I flipped a coin and decided that I’d rather be making money in two years than 10 and went into TV. It was Fanshaw College in London, Ontario. They had a course in TV broadcasting and we were literally down the hall from the welding department and the travel and tourism department and the radio broadcasting department. You went there for a couple of years and you learned how the machines worked and then you got a job at a TV or radio station and took off from there.

Neely: To whom was this pilot taken?

James: My agent took it to all the major networks and all the major studios and production companies.

Neely: What was the reaction?

James: It was very well received. Everyone said “what a great piece of writing” and “what a great story” and “loved the script but don’t think it’s right for us right now. It doesn’t meet our needs at present but please keep us in mind for your next project.” We also got some feedback at the time that it was a little similar to the “Sarah Connor Chronicles” that was coming out. Even though that wasn’t true. In development, as you well know, there’s a perception that if something is even remotely close it’s dangerous.

Neely: Yeah. And we know how well “The Sarah Connor Chronicles” did.

James: But the script did open a lot of doors and got me meetings with a lot of people. Across the board, it was received very very well.

Neely: I know that I rant and rave about this but this script would still be great today if people didn’t think of scripts as having a “use by” stamp. ABC has been desperate to find a successor to “Lost” and this would have been perfect – IT STILL IS!!

James: I know. I know. It just kills me.

Neely: Were you going to play the 100 days as 100 episodes?

James: Yes. That was absolutely the idea. Each episode would take place over the course of one complete day, for a total of 100 episodes, or 4 seasons. And then the story would wrap up.

Neely: (laughs) So you wouldn’t just have him end up in Switzerland and start all over again?

James: (laughs) Well we could always spin it off in a new direction for another 4 years. I certainly wouldn’t turn down the paycheck.

Neely: I loved the coincidence, and I know it has to have been one because you wrote this before the English translation came out, that your main conspiracy theorist, Tamara, is a physical dead ringer for Lizbeth Salander, the girl with the dragon tattoo in the Swedish film. Have you seen the film?

James: I’ve read all the books but I haven’t seen the movie yet.

Neely: Do see the movie. Knowing what’s coming doesn’t diminish the pleasure of seeing this film (and I’ve seen it twice). Not at all. I haven’t read the books but I think it’s one of the best movies I’ve seen in the past few years. I’ve talked to people who have read the book and uniformly they all think the movie is outstanding. I have no idea why we’re going to do an American version that is going to water it down.

James: I know. We’re just going to kill it.

Neely: Do go see it. Lizbeth is just exactly how I think you imagined Tamara. And even more interesting is that the Jake/Tamara dynamic mirrors the Lizbeth/Michael dynamic.

Tell us some more about what Tamara’s ultimate role was going to be in “The Last 100 Days.”

James: I saw Tamara as being the ying to Jake’s yang. She has the streetwise know how that Jake lacks since he’s from the ivory tower of education. She has the physical skills that would come in handy getting him out of scrapes in the field. Jake would be the more thoughtful of the two; have the more analytical outlook. He would step back and assess the situation before taking action, whereas Tamara would just leap in, kick ass, and do what needed to be done. So I think the two of them together form an almost perfect storm, if you will. I also thought it interesting to have her be a lesbian and get rid of this thing they do with co-leads now – where there’s always sexual tension between them. Will they or won’t they go to bed together. Enough! I’m tired of that; let’s move beyond it. Let’s have her be a strong woman. It’s just great to have them be a team like that. I’m married to a strong woman so I know how terrific it is to be part of a team.

Neely: It’s an interesting take on that character especially since you don’t see enough strong gay characters on screen. And you’re right – everyone always expects the sexual tension between a man and a woman, so you’ve dispensed with that expectation in an original way.

James: I just knew what the first note from the network would be if I made her a heterosexual. “They’re obviously attracted to each other.” And of course all I would be able to think was “Oh my god. Not again! Didn’t “Moonlighting” kill that once and for all?”

Neely: You found a new way around the problem – a dynamic that’s been waiting to happen (and no, “Will and Grace” doesn’t count).

You’ve already commented on what I’m going to say next by indicating that your wife is a strong individual. As I’ve pointed out, countless times now, one of the strengths I find in the genre, at least as written for television in recent years, is the strength of the female characters. What’s your take on why this seems to be so prevalent in Sci-Fi, especially when most of the writers are men (we should discuss that at some later time)?

James: I don’t know, but I have a few suspicions. First of all I suspect that since it is Sci-Fi and it’s not the real world, for some reason that seems to give men, and women, license to write about women in a different, more empowered, more powerful way. Secondly, I think a lot of that may be an artifact from comic books or graphic novels where, again, women are definitely stronger, more powerful and kick ass kind of characters.

Neely: Why would that be? In the comic books I read as a kid they weren’t – but then I was reading “Archie” and “Little Lulu.”

James: I don’t know. I look back on movies like “Star Wars” with Princess Leia or “Alien,” of course, with Sigourney Weaver, and think that may have been the start. But no, before that there was “Wonder Woman” and female comic book heroes who were strong and could save the day. I guess I’m not really sure.

Neely: Me neither, but it happens – these strong female characters are there. Have you considered turning this into a novel? It has such a vibrant visual exposition and great central plot that it would seem to be a natural for the page. This kind of visual exposition is rarely seen on television, although I’m not sure why not – maybe because it’s viewed as expensive to produce. In any case I see this as a natural for the written world and besides that, it’s a marvelous way to get in the back door for a feature film – another viable form for this story.

James: It has occurred to me. I’ve thought about it quite a lot, but to tell you the truth, the problem is just time. It would take 6-8 months to write the novel – which would basically be a very long spec project – and I have not had that luxury of time in quite a few years. That’s all it boils down to. As far as it being an expensive television project, I don’t think so. The pilot would be more expensive than the episodes would be, but using the example of the show I’m working on now, “Sanctuary,” a large proportion of it is green screen. We do amazing things with little to no money. Coming up through the ranks of international co-production and working in hour long television for so long, I was brutally trained in the discipline of writing responsibly for production. In other words, don’t put a two page scene in one location. If you’re in a location and it’s lit or it’s built or you have to travel to it, then you put 7 or 8 pages in there and you make it the day’s work. And that’s how I’ve always worked. But once again, using the example of “Sanctuary” where so much is done on green screen, you can write scenes that take place in Victorian England; you can write scenes that take place in the middle of the Sahara Desert; or you can be on top of the Eiffel Tower for 2/8ths of a page. It’s not a problem. That really opened my eyes to what’s possible now with technology and with creative international funding. I think “The Last Hundred Days” is eminently producible.

Neely: With prospective pilots, a production executive can look at the page and price it out, but often without thinking about what the alternatives might be; they may be looking at it as a worst case scenario. Network and studio development executives, however, usually can’t do that and rely on what their production executives are telling them. How do you counter that mindset, because, remember, that’s always part of the mindset in the room, even if they aren’t saying it? I think you have to tackle that problem directly when you pitch the pilot.

James: That’s a good question and I think that writers are getting educated; it’s happening slowly. I think the challenge is to present it in the room along with the pitch using living, breathing examples like, for instance, “Sanctuary.”

Neely: I think you really have to make a preemptive strike because otherwise they’ll say “I love this” but they’re thinking “This is too expensive; forget it.”

Veering back to you… When looking up your credits, I noticed that they are exclusively in the Sci-Fi / Fantasy realm. Is this what you read as a kid? Was this always where you wanted to end up?

James: Well… no and no, strangely enough. As a kid I would read a lot, about a book a day for many many years. But it was a very strange selection. I would read The Hardy Boys one day and then read Plato the next . For some reason I went through this period where I was just a sponge. And in the mix was some Sci-Fi, a lot of Ray Bradbury. I was very attracted to his writing, his books on writing, and his process of writing. What really appealed to me in his writing, aside from the technology, was the humanity that came through. Fahrenheit 451 and The Martian Chronicles, yes they’re Sci-Fi stories but they really have a human element and address core human issues and emotions. The writing is just like poetry; it’s just amazing.

Neely: I can’t agree more. For years I had avoided Bradbury because I had him typed in the genre. I don’t remember why, maybe because my son recommended it, but I picked up Fahrenheit 451 and read it and it was transformative. It was one of the most poetic, prescient novels that I had ever read and instantly became a huge fan. That he could, in 1951, predict our current state of reality television is frightening (probably even more so to him). He wrote it in a basement at UCLA! His writing is lyrical and beautiful with marvelous, huge universal themes. He’s disguising something very important within his futuristic realm; his topics are so deep. Although much of this can be said of the best authors of the genre, Dick, Heinlein, L’Engle and so on, still the poetry of his prose is as good, and in many cases better than, the most revered Western novelists.

James: He gets away with these themes because its Sci-Fi. It’s kind of what Rod Serling did with “The Twilight Zone.” He addressed the major issues of the time – racism, prejudice, brutality – but it was all within the shell of a Sci-Fi or fantasy show.

Neely: What an excellent example. How did you get started? What was your first break?

James: As I mentioned, I went to TV/Broadcasting school for two years and then entered the world of broadcast television working in TV stations in Canada – running cable, moving cameras. I moved up to producing and directing local television; and then moved into advertising and promotion at television stations. At about that time we moved down to the States. I worked in Philadelphia and New York for CBS where I was director of on air marketing, advertising and promotion. I did very well and won 3 Emmys and a bunch of awards for my writing. I took the station up in the ratings and everything was great. But I was feeling a bit frustrated and I remember that one day my wife said, “Why don’t you try writing like you did in college? What about screenwriting?” And I said, “I don’t know anything about it. I wouldn’t know where to start.” And the very next day at the television station, one of the ladies from accounting dropped a brochure on my desk that was for a screenwriting course at the University of Pennsylvania. She said, “I don’t know why I thought you’d be interested in this, but I just thought I’d pass it along.” I took that as a sign, enrolled in the course, learned the format, trained myself and wrote 3 features; got a terrible agent out of Maryland; and …nothing happened.

Then I thought I would try the sitcom which had always been one of my favorite genres. I wrote a few sitcom specs and sent them out to the West Coast. One day, out of the blue, I got a call from Warner Brothers saying that I had won a place in the Warner Brothers sitcom workshop. I’ll never forget what the woman I spoke to from Warners said. “Who the hell are you? How did you do this? You’re in Philadelphia and yet this is actually something we could shoot tomorrow. How did you do this?” And I said that I studied the format, studied the show and did the best job I could. So she said, “Well you’re in Philadelphia, but if you want to be in the TV business you need to be out here because right now you’re no good to us.”

So my wife and I had a long discussion and decided we would take the risk. We rattled into town, not knowing a soul, not knowing what we were getting ourselves into. I started specking scripts when I arrived but nothing happened. I had to take some odd jobs to pay the bills. I was a messenger boy and I was one of Hugh Hefner’s personal assistants for a few months at the Playboy mansion to make some extra money. I would type his correspondence and schedule screenings, things like that. And all the while I was sending my scripts out and manning the phones myself and following up and generating whatever I could. One day I got a call from the “Highlander” TV show. They needed someone to come in and take over a story. So I did a script for them; then I did a second script for them; and then I did a third script for them. Finally they said, “To hell with this. We’ll just bring you on staff.” I started on staff at “Highlander” and I’ve been on a staff ever since.

Neely: It’s so impressive you won a place in the Warner Brothers workshop. Whatever happened to that? Did it go away when you weren’t there?

James: It would have, but they were so eager to keep me on board that they worked with me by correspondence, which is something they had never done before and have never done since. So I completed the workshop, which was a great experience, but I didn’t get staffed on a sitcom. So, I started specking hour long scripts as well. A specific “X-Files” spec I wrote seemed to go through the roof and get the best response ever, which is what landed me the “Highlander” gig, and is what initially put me in the Sci-Fi genre. Since “Highlander” was an international co-pro between Canada, France and the U.S., it also put me in this lovely syndicated world where I’ve been ever since.

Neely: Out of sequence, but are you still a Canadian citizen?

James: Canadian citizen and U.S. resident; so I have a green card.

Neely: That stands you in awfully good stead for co-productions. What about your wife… same thing?

James: Same thing. She’s a film producer now; she has two companies – Snowfall Films and Windchill Films. She does projects all over the world. She just finished shooting a film in New Orleans and has a project coming up in Prague and then one in New Brunswick. So, we’re a busy family.

Neely: Would she have produced something I might have seen?

James: Her most recognizable film was one called “Undertaking Betty.” It starred Naomi Watts, Christopher Walken, Alfred Molina and Brenda Blethyn. It’s a great romantic comedy about two competing funeral home directors in a small town in Wales. Alfred Molina is the local boy and Christopher Walken is the brash American who comes over and wants to remake the industry. Part of the plot is also that Brenda Blethyn wants to get away from her abusive husband, so she and Alfred Molina, who has always secretly been in love with her and she with him, agrees to fake her death so they can run away together. It’s a great comedy and won a BAFTA award in England; it’s a lot of fun.

Neely: I’ll have to get a copy. It sound great and I’m a huge Alfred Molina fan.

We already talked about when you learned that you wanted to be a writer – or at least when your wife pointed you in that direction. What about other literary influences besides Ray Bradbury?

James: I love Edgar Allen Poe, especially his poetry, which I think is not as well known and extremely underrated. H.P. Lovecraft has always been interesting to me; he did a lot of very dark fantasy writing at the turn of the last century. Ray Bradbury we talked about. There’s an author by the name of M.F.K. Fischer who wrote a series of books in the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s about food, her travels, her relationship with food, and what it meant to her. I re-read The Art of Eating at least once every five years. It’s an amazing body of work. I also listen to a lot of old radio programs from the 20’s, 30’s and 40’s. There is a radio show called “Vic and Sade” which was a daily 15 minute soap opera kind of thing. It was all written by one man, Paul Reimer. And again, this harkens back to the reason I like Bradbury so much; the writing was so human and so subtly and gently humorous. It was a slice of every day life, but done so beautifully; it’s always inspiring to listen to those shows. Jorge Luis Borges, the Spanish writer, is quite amazing as well. Those would be the main influences.

Neely: You are one of the best read writers I’ve talked to. How about mentors?

James: It’s not that I sought out mentors, but I would say that the gentleman who showran “Highlander,” David Abramowitz, who gave me my first job and was my introduction to the industry, was that for me. He spoiled me for everyone ever since. He’s a warm, generous, brilliant man who is a natural storyteller. He ran that show and the writers’ room like it was a family. When you were in the writers’ room, there was no fear, no bullshit; it was all about the work and getting the work good and getting the work done; and then leaving the office and having a life. I realize now as I travel from show to show, how rare that first experience was.

Neely: What do you read in the spare time you probably don’t have?

James: (laughs) This is going to sound bizarre, but my favorite thing to do is… remember that libraries used to have reference sections? Well they still have reference sections but nobody knows about them anymore because of Google, but in the reference section there would be volumes of book reviews by year in digest form. And my favorite thing to do with whatever spare time I have is to take one of those volumes down, say the Book Review Digest from 1929 and flip through pages to see what was hot back then or what was underappreciated or what some New Yorker reviewer liked. I’ve found a lot of marvelous older fiction that way, as well as a lot of mystery authors who I had never heard of who are amazing. I also try to keep up my French. There are some French authors who are very interesting – one in particular, Fred Vargas who writes an amazing mystery series featuring a very very quirky French detective. I also read a lot of non-fiction. For some reason I’m really drawn to the World Wars. What I’m reading right now is a book called Odette about a woman who was French and became a housewife in Britain. During the second World War, she was enlisted as a spy and traveled back to France to go underground and join the Resistance and fight for her country. After six months she was captured and taken to Ravensbrück Concentration Camp, the one that was specifically for women where over 100,000 women were killed. She survived that and then went back and resumed her “normal” life. It’s just an amazing story.

Neely: That’s fantastic. Now you said you keep up your French. Are you a fan of Simenon?

James: Oh my god, yes! That’s another good one. He’s an author where you open his book and you just sort of tumble into it naturally and the pages just keep turning. It’s not that it’s what I’d call a page-turner, but there’s just this ease and flow and gentleness; you just follow Inspector Maigret through his day. It’s astounding that someone could write like that and write as much as he did. He wrote thousands of novels, right?

Neely: Yes he did; 2,000 I think – and he wrote many of them in the United States where he lived for 10 years. And as much a fan of his Inspector Maigret novels as I am, his psychological fiction is some of the best that’s ever been written. If you haven’t read that part of his work, there’s a novel called The Venice TrainM. Hire and The Cat. The Cat was just about the last film made by both Simone Signoret and Jean Gabin. It’s a brilliant psychological novel about how hate binds you sometimes more than love. But my favorite of his that I’ve read is The Venice Train.

James: I’m writing them down.

Neely: I love that you read the Book Review Digests. Something I loved doing when I worked for Kelley was reading Publisher’s Weekly looking for books that were interesting but were probably going to fly under the radar for everyone else. If they seemed to have great potential plots, I would then read them for the character development. We didn’t have the money that Scott Rudin has and Rudin seemed only to be interested in best sellers, whether for good or ill (and I still don’t think Special Topics in Calamity Physics is going to translate to the big screen, or if it does, it’s not going to convey the magic that was on the page). I loved looking for those things that I thought would slip by. It’s a great idea to go back even further to find things that have escaped notice, and in some cases they’re now in the public domain.

James: Absolutely. I stumbled upon a tremendous find a couple of weeks ago from 1921, I believe. I found this book called Through the Shadows with O. Henry written by a guy named Al Jennings. Late in the 19th century, Al Jennings was an outlaw – a cowboy who robbed banks and stole cattle (note: before that he had been a lawyer). He went to prison in 1898 and his bunkmate was William Sydney Porter, who at that time had been working in a bank and had just been convicted of embezzlement. When Al Jennings was released from prison, he wrote a book about his time with Porter, watching Porter change and evolve and become a writer and really find his humanity again through that process. Of course we know that when Porter got out he became O. Henry. It’s an amazing book.

Neely: You should option that book. What about television – what do you watch?

James: BBC America is a great resource. I really enjoyed a little series called “The Sins” starring Pete Postlethwaite. Each episode focused on one of the 7 deadly sins, whether it was sloth or gluttony or whatever; it was amazing. I also loved the show that Kenneth Branaugh did – “Wallander,” the Scandinavian detective. And there’s a guy named Anthony Horowitz who single handedly wrote a series called “Foyle’s War.”

Neely: I’m acquainted with his work. I was never that fond of “Foyle’s War” (I should try again) but he wrote the very best episodes of the Robbie Coltrane British series called “Cracker.”

James: He’s an interesting guy – to be able to juggle working in film and television as well as being a best selling novelist. He does the Alex Rider series of books; Rider is like a young James Bond. They’re huge best sellers all over the world. I want whatever he’s taking!

In terms of American TV? Sitcoms we’ve loved are “Modern Family;” and “The Simpsons,” as always, just keeps chugging along and I just can’t give up addiction to it. In hour long I really like “The Good Wife.” I think it’s very strong, I love the characters, I love the writing. Genre-wise, I’ve been following “V” for obvious reasons and “Flashforward”…

Neely: …which you will no longer be following.

James: Yeah, yeah. But that’s really about it. I find I’m more attracted to the British style. Maybe it’s my Canadian heritage or maybe it’s the fact that they can really dig deeper with their characters. Not everyone needs to be a physically attractive person to be on a British television show. It’s just more interesting; it’s more real; it’s grittier. They can go places that American network television can’t go.

There’s some great stuff on cable. I loved the first season of “Damages;” I thought it was a breakthrough. And of course the first season of “Mad Men” was incredible. “Breaking Bad” is consistently fantastic as well. There’s a lot out there.

Neely: There is a lot out there. One series that I particularly like is “Justified.” Graham Yost did a fantastic job of transferring the Elmore Leonard short story, “Fire in the Hole,” to the screen and going from there. It’s said that Leonard is so pleased that he’s going to write another short story for them to use.

James: Great. I’ll TiVo it. I can actually TiVo it remotely from here.

Neely: I know you’re working on “Sanctuary” right now. What is it about?

James: “Sanctuary” is a show that deals with “abnormals” – creatures, some human some not, that have evolved differently than the rest of us. The leader of the Sanctuary team is a character named Helen Magnus. She and her team go out an try to protect the abnormals, or in some cases go out and take them down if they’re about to do dangerous things or get involved bad situations. Some weeks we’ll be dealing with vampires, other weeks we’ll be dealing with a giant praying mantis that wants to take over the city; and other weeks we’ll have personal stories with Helen and her team. It’s a great cross section. We are so blessed on this show because we have a fantastic cast – just amazing. Amanda Tapping plays Helen Magnus and she came from the “Stargate” team. She’s the kind of actress you could have read paragraphs of exposition and it would be fascinating to watch. Robin Dunne plays a character named Will Zimmerman, Ryan Robbins plays Henry Foss, and Agam Darshi plays Kate Freelander; they make up the Sanctuary team. We also have Christopher Heyerdahl who plays “Big Foot” the resident Sasquatch; he also doubles as Druitt, who back in Victorian England was actually Jack the Ripper.

Neely: Who created the show and what time frame is it set in?

James: The show was created by Damien Kindler, Martin Wood and Amanda Tapping. It’s set in present day in an unnamed city.

Neely: Any new pilots or projects in the works?

James: I have a couple of things in the works for television that I can’t really discuss at this point. A couple of my features are nearing production. One of those is a World War I drama based on a true story, and the other is a psychological thriller that deals with past life progression.

Neely: American or foreign co-productions?

James: The World War I will be a foreign co-pro, probably with some Eastern European country because we need a lot of original World War I materiel, like tanks and jeeps, and a lot of that can still be found in Eastern Europe. The psychological thriller will probably be a Canadian co-pro filming on the East Coast, maybe in Nova Scotia. And there’s another feature that’s a quirky murder mystery that takes place in a little fishing village on the east coast of Nova Scotia. A woman disappears and her husband is initially blamed for her murder. The town’s people are typical East Coast Canadians – there’s a lobster festival going on at the time and it’s madness and mayhem and a lot of fun too.

Neely: I can’t wait to see them and in the meantime, I’ll take a look at “Sanctuary.” I look forward to reading more of your work. I really appreciate you fitting me into your schedule because I know that you’re right smack in the middle of production. Thanks again.

August 19, 2010

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” Charles Darwin

“Firefall” by Melody Fox

What: A meteorite has hit Earth in central Colorado and unexplained occurrences follow.

Who: When the body of a golfer is recovered from the water hazard off the 9th hole, Hannah Price of the EPA is called in. The body, in the water for only a few minutes before it was pulled out, has been hideously disfigured; toxic chemicals are suspected.  Arriving shortly after Hannah is Dennis Burke, lead investigator for Talbot Industries, whose motto could be “toxic for you, profitable for me.” Resentful of Dennis’ presence, Hannah, and her lead analyst Eustice Hague, are, nevertheless, grateful for his prowess, especially when he proves to them that the culprit is not chemical toxins or any other biohazards with which they are familiar. Draining the water hazard, they are amazed when frogs, in Biblical numbers, emerge, seemingly unscathed. Further investigation, however, reveals a number of carbonaceous chondrite rock fragments – space rocks.

A known quack, Lloyd Truman, has been amassing evidence on his own for several years about the correlation of meteor showers and unexplained biological activity. Dennis, previously acquainted with Lloyd’s insane ramblings, agrees to listen.

Lloyd: Did you know the Venus fly trap only grows in parts of North and South Carolina?

Dennis: What’s that have to do –?

Lloyd: (cutting him off) It has no related species. What they call “taxonomically unique.”

Lloyd reaches in to the camper and takes out a metal detector.

Lloyd: It grows in an area pitted with crater lakes… Craters formed by meteors colliding with Earth long ago… Some scientists think it evolved from an alien organism.

Dennis: …An organism delivered here by a crashing meteorite.

Lloyd: What’s come down this time is a lot more dangerous.

Further explaining his theories to Hannah and Eustice,

Eustice: So, Mr. Truman, you believe there’s an organism or some manner of alien entity unique to the rocks from this comet?

Lloyd: Exactly. And it’s sort of like a virus. It gets into things, but then evolves differently each time. Which is why no one’s connecting the dots except me!

His eyes grow a little wild. He shoves back a swath of gray hair. Hannah and Eustice exchange looks. Seeing their skepticism, Lloyd pulls out files, tone more insistent:

Lloyd: Toronto – a full term baby was born at five months… A man in Wales can walk through walls… And tell me this…

Lloyd pulls up his sleeve, thrusts out an arm that’s scarred by a double row of bite marks.

Lloyd: …what beast has two sets of teeth?

When, the next day, Lloyd is found dead in the woods, hideously mutilated in much the same way as the golfer, Hannah and Dennis begin to take his theories more seriously.  Lloyd wasn’t far off, as the team discovers that the likely culprit in the mutilations is not a biotoxin but digestive enzymes; enzymes likely to have come from a new, mutated or vastly re-adapted species.

The question is no longer “what is the problem” but, rather, how to stop it before it spreads. Making her report on their findings to a Senate subcommittee, Hannah comes off as the “alien-of-the-week” reporter for  the “World Weekly News.”  When the government declines to support research into their specimens, Talbot Industries, ultimately interested in profiting from any possibly exploitable offshoots of the investigation, reaches into its deep pockets and funds the work of Dennis, Hannah and Eustice.

Dennis: So how do you propose we find these anomalies?

Hannah: I have a feeling they’ll find us.

No Meaner Place: Deviating from the other scripts profiled by “No Meaner Place,” Fox’s script is in the process of looking for a home.  A 2010 WGA Access Project honoree, Fox has written an extraordinarily chilling Sci-Fi pilot with great characters, terrific pacing and heart-stopping action, as well as the requisite amount of gore.  It is inconceivable to me that this very producible character-driven drama with procedural elements won’t be able to find a home. Like the best of the feature film horror genre, the true terror is in the eyes and screams of the victims, the evil is in the shadows – it is in the perception.

One of the first scripts profiled on “No Meaner Place” was a 2009 WGA Access Project honoree, “Chapel Hill” by Elizabeth Cosin. Although I am disappointed that this seems to be the sum total of what the WGA considers being proactive, this honorific should not be construed as a consolation prize. Fox’s outstanding script fully deserves this accolade and a seat at the table.  If any cable or broadcast network development execs are reading this article, please read this script and take pleasure in rediscovering this talented writer.

Life Lessons for Writers:  Prizes are great; jobs are better.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: Melody, do you consider yourself primarily a writer of Science Fiction?

Melody: No, but I really do seem to tend toward it. It’s fun to take great characters and throw them into situations that blow their mind and see how they rise to the occasion. With Sci-Fi the possibilities are really limitless. I’ve written a lot of other things – character drama, procedurals, kid’s animation, but I’m definitely partial to Science Fiction.

Neely: Like the best of Science Fiction, your terror-filled scenario finds its roots in the barely plausible. Where did you get the inspiration for this script?

Melody: This is a question that kind of excites me. What I think is great in Science Fiction is that the barely plausible may not be so implausible after all, and you go from there. It’s much more interesting to me whenever you start with the truth; start with the real science and then go. What I find exciting about this premise is that I don’t think this scenario is all that implausible. The inspiration is based in real science. Panspermia and exogenesis are hypotheses that propose that life on Earth was initially transferred here from elsewhere in the Universe via meteors and comets; that the precursors for life – amino acids, bacteria, biological material – were deposited here and the environmental conditions were ideal for it to become active, and replicate. Scientists have been debating these theories for 150 years, although exogenesis and panspermia are still just hypotheses. What we do know is that meteorites fall to Earth all the time. Meteors come into our atmosphere and most of them burn up, or they explode as the air pressure increases and scatter fragments all over. We also know that NASA has retrieved samples from meteors and the tail of a comet. Their studies have found organic compounds present in both.

Even Watson and Crick, who discovered the structure of DNA, entertained the idea of panspermia. These are some of the top guys in the entire world in the last century, Nobel Prize winners, molecular biologists who studied the genetic code. If anybody knows where life comes from, it ought to be them. So if they think it’s conceivable that microbes from someplace else hitched a ride on an asteroid, it’s a hypothesis worth considering.

Though theoretically this would have occurred over three billion years ago, there are some proponents of the hypothesis who contend that life forms continue to enter the Earth’s atmosphere and may be responsible for epidemic outbreaks, new disease, and genetic anomalies.

Anyway, that’s where I started – I like to start with the real science and if I considered these ideas as possible truths they became a jumping off point for me in developing the series. I thought, what if some sort of primitive alien organism, frozen inside a meteor and traveling through space for a billion plus years, suddenly made it to Earth now  – and our environment, with its sunlight and atmosphere and delicious nutrients in water and soil stimulated the organism and acted like an evolutionary accelerant. But the organism would not be restricted to one area because a meteor exploding in its descent toward Earth would scatter meteorite fragments over an entire continent. The organism would evolve differently depending upon the environment it was introduced into and what it first came into contact with. And since the organism is foreign to us and not playing by the rules of genetics that we are familiar with, it forces our heroes to be very open-minded about what’s going on and creative in how they can stop it.

Neely: I was aware that Crick wrote a book entitled Life Itself that presented his panspermia hypothesis on the origin of life, a hypothesis that he worked on with Leslie Orgel, his close friend and fellow Salk Institute colleague. Somewhere in the house we have a signed copy because my husband Larry was also at the Salk at that time (working on the brain, but definitely not on panspermia). I don’t believe Watson was a proponent of Crick’s hypothesis. He supported an earlier theory on what has become known as “RNA World.” Scientists, such as Watson and another Nobelist, Thomas Cech, believe that pre-cellular life originates in RNA which can act both as enzymes and genes.

Melody: I didn’t know about the book but I knew that Crick had had some thoughts on directed panspermia as if life had intentionally been sent here. I found that on the internet; but then that’s getting into a whole other area about intelligent life forms that are trying to procreate and expand their species.

Neely: Who, if anyone, did you consult?

Melody: I talked to a professional meteorite hunter named Ruben Garcia who’s in Arizona; he was extremely helpful. He’s known as Mr. Meteorite and I found him on the internet. He had all these really well done and understandable YouTube videos where he talks about how to recognize a meteorite and what happens when they come into the atmosphere. He doesn’t use science techno-babble. I emailed him and he called me right away. He spent a lot of time with me on the phone and now I have an open invitation to come to Phoenix and see his meteorite collection.

I also sat down with three other people – my brother, Richard Fox, who happens to have a PhD in physics with an undergraduate degree in chemistry; my niece Sarah, who is well-versed in science; and my friend Tim Shell, the human encyclopedia. They were instrumental in helping me keep this grounded in science. There’s an expression that says “never let the truth get in the way of a good story,” and I know that it’s important to dramatize and take liberties when necessary, but at the same time I wanted to go over story ideas with them for a semblance of accuracy.  I want to create a TV show with legs that can easily go five seasons. So we came up with future episode ideas and discussed how we could make it work. Starting with facts gives the material a ring of authenticity. I also contacted some people at the EPA.

I like to do research. The truth is often more interesting than something I could make up. Doing research opens my mind up and fosters more creative possibilities.

Neely: What do you want to have come across in this series?

Melody: For me, the theme for the piece has to do with disrupted Eco systems, introducing a new organism is going to affect everything around it. We see that now because our terrestrial eco systems are getting totally screwed up. Take the example of the Asian carps that were brought here for koi ponds and were released into fresh water lakes and streams; they’re very aggressive and are taking over their new environment. They’re disrupting, in some cases destroying eco-systems that have taken thousands, possibly millions of years to become established. They’re using up the food sources. There’s the issue down in Florida with the pythons and alligators fighting for territory and food. Pythons aren’t supposed to be there. Probably somebody had a pet and didn’t want it anymore and didn’t want to kill it so they thought it would be humane to release it in the wild; and now they’ve upset an entire eco-system. For me, the disrupted eco-system was the overall theme of the series and is featured in many of my scripts.

Neely: In talking to your manager, I was under the impression that this is still making the rounds; or at least I hope it still is. Can you talk about where you have taken it and where it stands?

Melody: It actually hasn’t gone out yet. He’s putting a list together of prospective production companies; we’re just getting ready to send it out within the next couple of weeks.

Neely: You have interesting credits – all indicating skills in a number of different areas. Apparently you started out writing for “Rugrats,” all the while honing those Sci-Fi skills with some freelance scripts. There was a stint on a short lived show called “Skin,” followed by a short-lived soap, “South Beach,” and then “Flash Gordon” on Syfy. As we all know, employment on shows that last one season or less is the luck of the draw and often sets the writer back; so instead, let’s talk about “Rugrats.” I recently talked to a writer who indicated that “Rugrats” gave him tremendous credibility with the younger set. How about you? A good thing or not?

Melody: It was absolutely a good thing. “Rugrats” has a lot of fans, both young and old. In terms of my career in animation, “Rugrats” was a very tough show to get on; they were very selective about writers so it turned out to be a good credit. I’d actually written on other animated shows before “Rugrats” and have written on some since then, but what I think is most relevant is that I learned a skill set writing animation that was also applicable to live action. A lot of people have a bit of a prejudice against animation and think it’s very different, but you have to learn to tell a good story; you have to structure it properly; you have to mimic character voices that other people have created; you have to be funny if it’s a comedy; creative if it’s science fiction; you have to turn things in on deadline and take notes (learn to graciously take notes) and incorporate them well. These are all skills that are going to apply to live action. So to me, it was a tremendous experience. I also wrote animated pilots and I was hired to develop the “Stuart Little” movie into a television series. I wrote the pilot for that, hired the other writers and supervised them. All in all, animation was a great experience and gave me a great skill set; and it’s darn fun to write.

Neely: Would you consider going back to animation?

Melody: I actually go back and forth. I still do some kid shows as well.

Neely: It’s not covered by the WGA, is it?

Melody: No it’s not. It’s either non-union or it’s covered by the animation guild. If it’s the animation guild, there are benefits; there just aren’t any residuals. There’s a lot of camaraderie in animation because it’s mainly freelance and the show staffs are very small; so you freelance on a wider variety of series and you end up having a bigger network of people that you know than in the live action world.

Neely: Did you find it harder to break into live action from animation?

Melody: I don’t think the animation credits hurt me. I found it harder to break into live action, period. It’s a bear – there’s a lot of competition and a lot of good writers out there; some are working and some aren’t. I felt like I paid my dues. I’ve written something like 21 spec scripts at this point in time. I went through the Warner Brothers workshop, which was terrific; I went through the AFI drama writers’ workshop; I was an assistant on television shows, an assistant by day and writing animation assignments by night. Being an assistant helped me learn more about one hour drama and allowed me to meet people who could give me advice and help me.

Neely: How did you break into animation?

Melody: I wrote an animated spec script and nobody read it for two years, and then I got a referral. A friend of a friend, Cliff MacGillivray, was running a show. He liked my samples but said that there probably wasn’t going to be anything available on his show, but he let me pitch anyway. I considered it an opportunity, even though he was saying that there was probably absolutely nothing for me. Then I got a call one night and the exhausted voice on the phone asked if I could come to his office right then and help write a script. I stayed up all night working with him. He was impressed I was able to pick up the character voices immediately, and I ended up with five assignments on that show.

Neely: I must say that I had a preconceived notion when I started reading “Firefall” because I had read a wonderful one act play you wrote a number of years ago and was expecting something like that. The play, entitled “The Bazooka Suit,” was in a completely different genre. At the time, I recommended “The Bazooka Suit” to David Kelley with the following synopsis:

Gwen, nervous about her first date since her divorce from Freddie, chooses her outfit, a very bazooka pink suit. Nervous, and about to cancel the date, Freddie arrives unexpectedly declaring his eternal love and wanting her to come to a family gathering with him. Gwen, conflicted, learns that he has never told his family about the divorce; testing Freddie’s sincerity, she covers his eyes and asks him to describe her – he can’t.  Freddie can’t see anyone but himself; Gwen is finally over him. Her date arrives, he “sees” her; it will go well.

I recently re-read it and still love it. I’m still in awe of your ability to write fully developed character and tell a complex story within a short one-act structure. Please indulge me while I pull out a wonderful scene from your short play. Gwen, agonizing over her first date with her best friend Joanie, is less than thrilled when her mother Mona arrives to give moral support.

Gwen: Mom, what are you doing here?

Mona: It’s a big night, I wanted to be here for support. And I brought you breath mints.

Mona hands her a package of Tic-Tacs.

Gwen: What I need is a Xanax, do they make those in spearmint?

Mona: You feel jittery now, Darling, but in an hour you’ll be sitting next to that young man chatting and laughing, completely relaxed. You’ll wonder why on Earth you didn’t start dating again sooner.

Gwen: (for the 100th time) This is plenty soon enough.

Mona grabs Gwen’s hand and leads her into the center of the room.

Mona: Now let me get a good look at you.

Mona looks her up and down.

Gwen: Please don’t criticize, Mom. I’ve tried on everything I own except my wedding dress and that blouse with the collar that makes my head look square.

Joanie: I can vouch for that.

Gwen: Honestly, if you tell me to change again, I’ll have to pull down the drapes and start sewing.

Mona: That suit is stunning on you.

Gwen: Really? Oh. (beat) Thank you.

Mona: But did you get the shoes from a stripper?

Neely: What kind of moral support do you get from your mother?

Melody: My mother and father have never once told me to quit writing and get a real job. They are incredibly supportive and always have been. They will watch anything that I write, whether it’s “Flash Gordon” or “Rugrats.” In fact, I got my dad hooked on “Rugrats.”

Neely: Mona, the mother of the play, is actually described with great affection, even though you can see the cringe on Gwen’s face when her mother enters. It could be the mother or it could be just the circumstances (although I suspect the former). What was the inspiration for this particular play?

Melody: I had written a lot of spec scripts for existing TV shows and I was looking for something I could write that would demonstrate my unique voice in dramedy. It’s not a big concept, but I wanted something that was relatable and something where I could focus on character and dialog. I do think there’s something relatable about mothers and daughters. There’s all that history and mothers have a way of pushing buttons. I know that if I go home to Indiana and I’m getting ready to leave, my mother will say, “You’re wearing that blouse to the party?” I’m an adult. “Yes, I’m wearing this blouse! There’s nothing wrong with this blouse.” And I’ll start to leave and then of course, suddenly in the back of my mind, “What’s the matter with this blouse?” Mothers and daughters have a special relationship and I thought I’d explore it.

Neely: I think “But did you get the shoes from a stripper?” resonates with all of us girls. Not that Mom has ever said that particular thing, but it’s always the “You’re wearing that?!”

Has this been produced anywhere?

Melody: No it has not.

Neely: There are contests for one act plays. I think this is actually something that is very competitive.

Melody: Thank you. I’d love to see it put into a one act festival.

Neely: Interestingly, this would have been the perfect piece to send out this year since every network is doing one, and in some cases two, romantic comedies on relationships. So, if it’s not too late, it should still be going out.

Have you ever given any thought to expanding this play into a television comedy? The theme of a divorced woman venturing back into the dating pool is neither new nor particularly original, but your main character has warmth and depth and her back-up singers, the prototypical best friend and all-too-helpful mother are fun.

Melody: I haven’t thought of expanding it because it’s not a high concept piece; I didn’t think it was something that would attract networks. But I think it’s very important to create likeable characters, so I appreciate your response to it.

Neely: How about a little background information. Where did you go to school?

Melody: Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana, which is also my home town. I was living about 4 miles from my parents for 4 years. I was a telecommunications major with a minor in theater and business. Then when I came to Los Angeles, there were a lot of different opportunities for writers to take classes specific to television writing. I went to the Script Writers’ Network, the Alameda Writers’ Group; the WGA has great seminars and panels where you can learn about writing and the business. I also attended an AFI Drama writer’s workshop, and as I mentioned previously, I got into the Warner Brothers program. So I had a lot of specific training outside of college.

Neely: Do you remember what piece of material it was that got you into the Warner Brothers program which is so competitive?

Melody: My “West Wing” spec called “Someone Else’s Problem.”

Neely: Did you always want to be a writer?

Melody: Absolutely. I wrote my first story in first grade on that paper with the really wide lines so that you learn to craft your letters properly. I can remember hand writing scripts in high school. I just always wanted to do it.

Neely: Any mentors along the way?

Melody: I did. I’ve had a lot of people who have been really helpful – giving me advice, referrals. Jim Leonard, who hired me on “Skin,” has been a great mentor to me. He gave me my first staff job on a one hour show. The most important thing I learned from him was in the writers’ room. Up til that time I’d always written spec scripts and animation which are closed ended stories; “Skin” was a character drama; it was basically a big soap and I had to learn how to look at stories in terms of 6 and 13 episode arcs. You’re always building towards something; it’s a much bigger picture. At the same time that you’re doing that, you have to look at the individual episode and make sure that the episode is interesting; that it has enough emotion and incident. It’s a puzzle piece but it also has to be a satisfying, interesting episode. That was a great experience for me and I learned a lot from him. I also learned a lot about delving into the emotion of the scene from Gina Fattore and Natalie Chaidez. Gina told me not to hold back, that it was okay if people who love each other say awful things to each other. That happens in real life, it happens in television and it’s okay to start at that place and adjust from there. Doris Egan has been a terrific mentor to me. She has given me a lot of business and creative advice. Philip Levens who was my EP on “South Beach” has been great. Even though I was one of the lower level writers, he gave me as much responsibility as the upper level writers and that was a great learning experience. You rise to the occasion. We continue to be friends and are developing something together that we’re going to pitch.

Neely: What are you reading right now and what are you watching on television?

Melody: It’s summer right now and high time for cable, so I’ve been watching shows like “Eureka,” “Leverage,” “Haven,” “Burn Notice.” “Rookie Blue” is an ABC summer series that’s really well done. I’ve also been watching the “Torchwood” DVDs because “Torchwood,” which was on the BBC, is going to be on Starz next year, so I’m amping up for the new season.

Neely: What about this last season of broadcast?

Melody: I was a big fan of “Lost.” I was sad that “Mercy” went away because I thought it was really well done. “Glee” is great and has humor and heart like another Ryan Murphy show I liked from ten years ago called “Popular.” I watch a lot of television; I think it’s my job; it’s my job to know what’s out there. I was watching “Flashforward” and “V” – all the Science Fiction shows. I still like procedurals. I can still sit down and watch an episode of “CSI” after 10 years and be entertained and engaged. I think they’ve done a really good job of keeping that show fresh and finding ways to keep it inventive and interesting.

Neely: So what are you reading right now?

Melody: Scripts! Most of my reading is either research I’m doing on the internet for some particular idea or a script. I love reading pilot scripts. I didn’t make it through all of the pilot scripts for this season yet.

Neely: Any favorites?

Melody: I loved “Breakout Kings.” I’m so happy it went to A&E because I thought the characters were incredibly well crafted; I could hear the voices. I think it’s a new franchise – a new way to do a procedural. I liked “Terra Nova.” I think it’s going to be very interesting. It’s a midseason on Fox. It’s got an interesting concept. In the future human beings have been so incredibly irresponsible that we have overpopulated the Earth and have used up all of our natural resources – there are no plants left; there are no animals left. We eat protein twists to survive. They’ve created a time machine or a time portal in which they were able to go back to one particular era – one way travel only. They take a population and put them back into a prehistoric era. What I think is interesting and it goes back to my interest in eco-systems, is that you’ve taken a human population with modern concerns and technology and you’re putting them into a prehistoric eco-system that was functioning just fine without humans. What are we going to do to that? There are all sorts of moral, ethical and religious implications. I don’t know how much they’ll explore that in the show, but if these humans are on earth long before Christ or Buddha or anyone else, how is that going to affect religion?

Neely: Any scripts in previous years that you really loved but that didn’t make it?

Melody: “Captain Cook’s Extraordinary Atlas.”

Neely: That was the first script I wrote about for the blog. I still haven’t been able to pin down Tom Wheeler for a talk, though.  He has a mid season pickup this year for “The Cape.”

Melody: I just loved “Captain Cook’s Extraordinary Atlas.” I was in awe from page one. Each character had a distinct voice and you felt for that poor mother with the eccentric kid. I can still remember details and I haven’t read it for a couple of years.

Neely: It was my favorite script that year. I still believe that it’s a book franchise – it’s the new “Harry Potter.” Forget what happened on the pilot and just develop it into a book series.

Melody: John McNamara and David Eick’s Sci-Fi script “Them” also comes to mind as a great script that didn’t make it to series. I noticed you profiled it on No Meaner Place. John is a writer I really love and think is under appreciated even though he works all the time. I worked as his script coordinator years ago for my day job. I would slip away at the lunch hour to take meetings or get notes calls, and then write my animation assignments at night. John wrote dark characters like “Profit” and Mr. Chapel on “Vengeance Unlimited” played by Michael Madsen – a guy who goes out and gets revenge for other people. John used to say that people should say less and he’d really tighten up the dialog and his characters did not have long monologues. Then he surprised me by writing “Eyes” which had this very outgoing, personable, verbose character. I really loved that show; it had great characters and witty dialog. I always knew he was a terrific writer but I never expected him to write that particular kind of character.

If I may paraphrase a few favorite bits of advice that I’ve heard John share: (1) If you’re writing an episode and have something that will make an absolutely great third act break, make it your first act break.  If it’s that good, push it forward, don’t withhold, or your audience may not still be watching by the third act.  (2) Emotional jeopardy is just as important as physical jeopardy and can make an effective act out.  And (3), don’t name your TV show after your characters because if an actor becomes difficult you can’t kill them off.

Neely: That last piece of advice is one learned too late by too many.

So, if you could staff on any television show right now, either upcoming or returning, what would it be?

Melody: “Torchwood” – it’s incredibly well done. It’s Sci-Fi and it has big concepts, but it’s always very character based. I used to love “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” because they always had character-based stories. “Torchwood” does something similar in that whatever the alien problem of the week is, it always affects them in a very personal way. “Breakout Kings,” definitely. The characters are incredibly well drawn and, as much as I love Science Fiction, I love shows that have some sort of a franchise – a built in story engine where you can see how your characters are going to react to the challenges and obstacles that week. I’d also love to write for “Terra Nova.” It’s going to be great Sci-Fi but it’s told from the point of view of a family so there will be emotion and rich relationships within this high-concept premise. But what I’d really like to work on is whatever show is going to be on for the next 10 years. Is that wrong? To want a job for a long time? To get that opportunity to move up the ranks and learn a lot more about producing.

Neely: I think that’s a great answer. So, what else are you working on right now?

Melody: I recently developed a project with Philip Levens that I mentioned earlier. I also developed a TV pilot with Peter Hume who was my executive producer on “Flash Gordon” that we just pitched to ABC. And I’m researching some other pilot concepts to write solo. I have an idea with a private investigator franchise. Obviously that’s not exactly a new area, but I think I’ve figured out a fresh new way into this franchise through the character. And you know how I love to do research, so when I knew that I wanted to do a PI show I went to a PI school. There’s a guy who teaches at a school for private investigators and bounty hunters and he let me take a couple of classes to check it out. I’ve also met with some private investigators. Recently, I went on a stake-out with one private investigator. You’re sitting in the car all day long; there’s nothing to do, watching these people, trying to catch them doing whatever it is that you’re trying to catch them doing. I picked his brain about all these different cases he’s had. Immediately, as he’s telling me these things, I’m starting to generate story ideas in my head. I interviewed another private investigator who was a former cop. I went with him to interview a witness and I had to pretend to be a private eye at his firm. There were four people in the room and every person had a different agenda. It was like I was in the middle of a good scene from a TV show with characters at cross-purposes.

Recently I was looking for some particular idea in my filing cabinet and I’m going past all these ideas I’ve had over the years. I keep notes and print out articles. I’ll see some random thing, some random medical story about something that’s an anomaly that happened and I’ll think – that’s a great story idea for a TV show and I’ll file that away. And thumbing past all those files I saw some great concepts that I haven’t fully developed yet. So I’d better get cracking on them!

Neely: I look forward to reading your next script and hope you’ll let me take a look at it. I have my fingers crossed on “Firefall” and for you. Thank you very much.

August 11, 2010

“Here I am paying big money to you writers and what for? All you do is change the words.” – Samuel Goldwyn

“Nevermind Nirvana” by Ajay Sahgal

What: Raju Mattoo is about to get married and he has the yips about the marriage that was arranged by his mother. Brother Sunil “Sonny” Mattoo has just finished Med School and has decided he doesn’t want to be a doctor. Slow death by arsenic poisoning would be preferable to telling their parents – their father, the very accomplished Dr. Arjun Mattoo and their mother, the even more accomplished Dr. Sarita Mattoo – who are due to arrive for the wedding.

Who:  Raju Mattoo, a dentist, has committed to a marriage arranged by his mother to a woman he barely knows, Priyanka, an ObGyn from New Jersey. Having returned from his G-rated (censored and controlled by his mother) bachelor party in Las Vegas, he confesses his misgivings to his brother Sonny and best friend and dental practice partner Perry. He and Priyanka have not yet kicked the tires, so to speak. But much depends on this marriage, primarily for Sonny because, after finally finishing med school, he has decided that he cannot devote his life to something he hates. His live-in girlfriend Elizabeth, decidedly not Indian, fully supports his decision (actually she gives him a year). As yet, however, Sonny has not found a way to tell his parents of his decision; something that becomes more complicated when, unannounced, Drs. Arjun and Sarita Mattoo arrive on their doorstep, complete with manservant and boatloads of baggage, having cancelled their hotel in order to be closer to the family on the eve of the wedding..

Private space is invaded and nerves are beginning to shatter.

Int. Sonny & Elizabeth’s bedroom – Night.

Sarita enters without knocking.

Sarita: (Sotto, to Sonny) Why don’t you marry her? You have been together two years. Think of her reputation! (Then) You know we are sending Raju and his bride to Hawaii for a honeymoon.

Sonny: That’s very nice of you, but we –

Sarita: All expenses paid. A junior suite, ocean view. It will cost them nothing.

Sonny: You’re trying to bribe us into getting married?

Sarita: (To Elizabeth) I would happily send you and Sonny to Hawaii. Have you been there? Very nice.

Sonny: Ma, you can’t just make everyone do what you want them to…Go to sleep, please.

And no sooner to they get rid of Sarita than

Arjun enters wearing just his underwear, scratches his belly.

Arjun: So? Big day tomorrow?

Sonny: Maybe you should put something on.

Arjun: Govind is still unpacking my clothes. I’m not nude, you know. (To Elizabeth) In India there is a favorable bias toward the elders. Here, not so much.

Sonny: So… How’s Philadelphia? Same?

Arjun: Well, the Sixers are choking.

Sonny: (Herds him out) I haven’t been following… Well. It’s late, so…

As Arjun is ushered out, it is Elizabeth who points out

Elizabeth: Sonny, you’ll drive yourself crazy until they know.

Sonny: Let’s just get through the wedding. Okay? Please. I have a plan here. And it’s working. Everything in its time. Step one: Raju gets legally married to Priyanka, which gives my parents a reason to live. Step two: I write them a letter explaining that I’m not going to be a doctor. Step three: We move to Korea. Step four: I mail the letter from Korea. This is an airtight plan, baby. Airtight.

But of course complications ensue, as they do in all cases where every piece must interlock with every other. Priyanka, it turns out, also has the yips for the same “kicking the tires” reason as Raju. Though both parties have had numerous previous partners, it had been extremely important to both sets of parents that their relationship be consummated only after the ceremony – something that defied logic for both Priyanka and Raju because sexual compatibility was too great a question to leave unanswered. Aided by Elizabeth and Sonny, desperate for their own reasons that the wedding take place, Priyanka and Raju clandestinely consummate their relationship in the back seat of Sonny’s car – romantic only in the way illicit sex can be.

Of course it’s no surprise that the carefully constructed house of cards collapses. Having agreed to wear the traditional achkan and paggadi (white wedding suit and turban), Raju refuses to enter the ceremony on the traditional white horse. As Sarita berates Raju for his lack of decorum and inadequacy as a son, Raju reveals that Sonny is not the saint she paints him as he will not be continuing on to his residency.

The Priest, ever chanting, ties a garland of flowers around Raju and Priyanka’s hands, joining them.

Sarita: Something is wrong. This is not like you. Did you take pot?

Sonny: I didn’t take pot, ma.

Sarita: You are ruining your life! (To Arjun) He is ruining his life!

***

Raju: (Proud) You’ve still got one son who’s a doctor. That’s gotta feel good, right?

Arjun: You are not a doctor.

Raju: I am a doctor!

Sonny: Nothing wrong with not being a doctor.

Raju: I’m a doctor!

Sonny: Ma, it’s my life!

Sarita: Who told you that? I gave birth to you, you belong to me. And now your children will have to beg for food!

Sonny looks to Elizabeth for help.

Elizabeth: (Thumbs up) Airtight.

At a loss, impulsively, Sonny points to Raju.

Sonny: Raju and Priyanka had sex! Premaritally. How about that!?!

Priyanka gasps. The Priest keeps chanting. Raju looks at Priyanka’s father, who does not seem happy in the least.

Arjun: (Hits Raju) What?! Is this true?

Sonny: In a car, by the way.

Raju: (Re: Sonny) Sonny has pre-marital sex all the time.

Arjun: We will deal with Sunil, trust me. We’re talking about (pokes him) you. Have you no shame? Did you go to see the bride before it was allowed?

All eyes go to Raju.

Raju: (swallows) Yes.

For defiling the purity of the bride, a scandalized murmur moves through the crowd. Raju points accusingly at Priyanka, awkward since their hands are joined by the garland.

Raju: But it was her idea!

But parents (not all parents) will sometimes surprise you.

Arjun: (Makes sure Sarita’s gone) You made a good decision.

Sonny: (WHAT?) What?

Arjun: I didn’t work all these years in America so my eldest son would be miserable in his career. You should be happy in life. That is my goal.

Sonny: But you called me an idiot.

Arjun: For your mother’s benefit. If I said that I agreed with you, there would be war. No man wants war with his wife. Remember this. You might have a wife one day. (Winks at Elizabeth) Soon.

Sonny: Wow, Pop. That means a lot to me.

Arjun: You understand, publicly I must continue to condemn you.

No Meaner Place: Combining family relationship comedy with culture clash should have been a sure thing. Family sturm und drang has been the meat and potatoes of comedy and tragedy since the Greeks (and probably before), so no new ground is expected to be broken. But adding cultural differences to the mix is an always new and unexpected twist, and in this case, exploring Indian culture brings out the differences, but also highlights the similarities in the dynamic. The high educational and career expectations within Indian society, especially within the group that has immigrated to the U.S. for increased opportunity is very reminiscent of several other immigrant cultures, most notably the wave of Jewish immigrants who arrived on our shores at the end of the 19th century. Education was, of course, the primary path to success; a success that was judged by the final profession, usually medicine and sometimes legal. Relying on stereotype (and comedy is dependent upon it), achieving anything less than those two professions was deemed, if not failure, at least not success.  I wonder how Max and Jennie Siegelbaum felt when their son Ben (Bugsy) went into hotel management instead of education like his brothers and sisters?

We are beginning to see actors of South Asian descent represented on the small screen, notably in the comedies “The Office” and “Parks and Recreation,” as well as in dramas such as “The Good Wife.” Are we not willing to explore our similarities and differences? There is comedy to be mined (see “Bend it Like Beckham”) and that is what we need more than ever – comedy.

Life Lessons for Writers: When they say they want something out of the box, what they really want is something that will fit into a box, is about white families with a (very limited) smattering of ethnically diverse friends and neighbors, and comes tied with a ribbon – preferably one made in New Harmony and not in New Delhi.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: What part of your psyche did this come from? I know your family; I’ve met your parents and they are lovely people. Who were those people in the pilot???

Ajay: Those people are direct analogs to my parents and how they have behaved and reacted to certain things in my life. I think I was supposed to be a doctor. I know that from the time I was very young I always said I was going to be a doctor and that probably wasn’t something that came out of nowhere. I was probably told. My mother’s a doctor and my dad’s an engineer. There are a lot of doctors in the family. I even went to pre-med for a couple of years in college and then failed out as a result.

Neely: You were at UCLA, weren’t you?

Ajay: Yeah. There was just a lack of interest on my part. I think that the idea that I would become a writer was not, and probably still hasn’t been accepted by my parents. And then that I didn’t marry an Indian girl was, in the beginning, going to be a problem. Now they love Kelli and everything (note: Kelli Williams, one of the stars on the David Kelley series entitled “The Practice” and currently starring in “Lie to Me.”). But back then it was not a great time – including when I told them “I think this is the girl for me.” So yeah, a lot of it comes from my life – it’s autobiographical. This is how my parents behaved. These are things my parents said. I might have brightened the colors here and there, but this is them.

Neely: Do you have any siblings?

Ajay: I have a younger brother who’s a doctor.

Neely: (laughs) How much younger?

Ajay: Two years younger.

Neely: Okay, so that made it even more difficult. Did he marry an Indian girl?

Ajay: No. He was pressured even more than I was, but his way of rebelling was that he didn’t become the kind of a doctor they approved of. He became a criminal forensic psychiatrist. He doesn’t ever deal with saving lives or curing diseases or even treating people.

Neely: So it’s nothing they can explain to the folks back home.

Ajay: They cannot. He has an M.D. but that’s about it. He’s more like a legal/behavioral psychologist than a doctor; but he’s trained in medicine.

Neely: Where does he live?

Ajay: Studio City, near me. We all live in the same area. He has a kid and a wife and we’re all close.

Neely: Well, in keeping with the autobiographical elements in the script, I can definitely see the parallels to your very accepting and level-headed wife Kelli. By the way, the hilarious scene where Elizabeth was trying to wear a sari… anything like that happen the first time Kelli tried to wear one?

Ajay: I seem to recall a time when Kelli was wearing a lot of saris, right around the time we got married and she… well let me say, they’re not easy things to assemble. So I do remember something like that, but a lot of it came out of wanting a “cute” way to introduce the girl in the pilot.

Neely: I remember Kelli wearing a particularly beautiful sari to the Golden Globes one year (possibly 1998 or ’99).

Ajay: I remember that. I remember that sari. My mother was thrilled that she was wearing a sari on TV. She called all her friends to pay extra special attention.

Neely: At that point, how long had you been married?

Ajay: We got married in ’96, so a couple of years.

Neely: Right at the start of “The Practice.”

Ajay: I think we got married and then she did the pilot.

Neely: One of the things that I recall when I asked her about the sari was how appreciative she was of it and how her mother-in-law had given it to her and how thrilled she was to be wearing it. Kelli, no doubt, was extremely accommodating to your parents.

Ajay: Yes, she was.

Neely: That must have won them over.

Ajay: Yes. No offense intended, but Kelli’s, a WASP from Bel Air and didn’t have much of a culture, so I think she dove into accepting and assimilating into our Indian/American culture. The alternative was dinner at the Bel Air Country Club and that wasn’t that interesting to her.

Neely: Well, just going back over the models for this story, I can see that there’s something endless to tap into.

Ajay: I knew a lot of Indian kids, and have come to meet even more since – American kids with Indian parents, like me. All the stories are the same. Everybody who read this, auditioned for it, or came in for it in one way or another all said the same thing, “I don’t know if I’m going to get the part, but this is my family. This is great. I never see my family on television.” I imagine that it’s an immigrant story, too. It may be about Indians, and the details may be specific to Indians, but I imagine the American kid growing up in Michigan whose parents were Hmong immigrants has the same sort of stories.

Neely: It’s the same story told in “Funny in Farsi.” It was Nastaran Dibai’s story as well as that of the original author, Firoozeh Dumas. In adapting the book, Nastaran tapped into her own Iranian immigrant stories. It’s pretty universal.

Neely: There was a similar script and produced prior to this. What was it called?

Ajay: It vacillated between “Nevermind Nirvana” and “Nirvana” and “Nearly Nirvana.” They’re all kind of generally the same thing.

Neely: It was at NBC originally. Do you see the irony in NBC picking up a comedy that takes place in an outsourced Indian tech center? Could it have interfered with your casting?

Ajay: Actually we were ahead of them. Ken Kwapis, who directed that pilot, and I had a very open relationship. We kind of faced each other going, “It’s all the same actors.” But we didn’t have actors that were testing at the same time. Our actors were maybe going to go in and test for them, but we got them first. Yes, there was competition, but I think it’s an interesting area. There’s a really funny actor named Parvesh Cheena who tested for us and didn’t get it who went into that show. I think he’s going to be a big star because he’s really funny. NBC apparently wanted to do an Indian show, but I’m not sure why; maybe because India is an ascendant culture in a way.

Neely: I was a bit confused about that show. I checked the credits for the 2nd episode on Studio System and it looks like they cut a number of the Indian actors, including Cheena. Judging by what I saw, it’s now much more heavily weighted toward the Anglo actors and less about the Indians, which is sort of strange since India, besides being an ascendant culture is huge. There are a lot of Indian/Americans here. It’s not a small population in the U.S.

Ajay: That wasn’t the case when I was a kid.

Neely: What was it like? You grew up in L.A. didn’t you?

Ajay: Yeah. There was no one. We knew every Indian family in L.A; that’s how small it was. It’s huge, it’s exploded. Now everyone kind of stays within its own group, like the Gujuratis stay with the Gujuratis and the Punjabis stay with the Punjabis. But back then it was just everybody, altogether.

Neely: What are your parents?

Ajay: My parents are Punjabis.

Neely: So, who directed the pilot this time around?

Ajay: Scott Ellis. Scott is a theater director from New York (Associate Artistic Director of the Roundabout Theatre Co.) who also directs shows like “Weeds” and “Nurse Jackie” and “30 Rock.” Come to think of it, maybe he’s a TV director who also directs theater, I don’t know. He’s a very nice guy and very good with actors. The decisions about how directors get hired for pilots are opaque and crazy. I don’t know how these guys get on a list. I would have assumed they’d talk to David Schwimmer again (the director of the last pilot), but they wanted to go with Scott and I found him really nice and really great to work with. I liked the work he had done previously.

Neely: Did he get the timing?

Ajay: Yes he did. I don’t know if you’ve watched “Nurse Jackie,” but it can be a really funny show and I think that is largely to do with him executing very precise scripts very well.  So I thought that it worked.

Neely: Because, as they say, timing is everything in comedy (and in everything else).

Ajay: “Nevermind Nirvana” was a multi-camera show. Even though there are more Indian characters in shows now, especially one on the very successful multi-camera show “The Big Bang Theory,” there’s not a big tradition of Indians in this specialized field.

Neely: They’re all supposed to be doctors.

Ajay: Right! So where are you going to get them? If I was casting the part of the janitor on “Scrubs” eight years ago, I’d have end up with Neil Flynn because he was the funniest guy of the 50 guys who were funny. In my show, we didn’t have that kind of choice. We had a hard time casting it.

Neely: Did you look in England?

Ajay: We did. We got a lot of English actors auditioning. None of the men got particularly close on the guy roles; there were a couple of women that did. I suppose it’s very hard to do an American accent and concentrate on being funny.

Neely: The same thing is true for white English actors who haven’t done American before. They’re concentrating so much on their American accents that they miss the nuance.

What about the finished product? What did you think?

Ajay: To be honest, I wasn’t happy with it. I can’t point my finger in any direction. It would be very easy for me to say “This actor ruined it” or “Their notes ruined it” or the director or even myself because maybe it was the script. There’s this thing that can happen where a really good script turns into a so-so show and there’s no explanation. Sometimes the reverse is true and a so-so script turns into a really funny show with no explanation. It’s strange. I’ve spent a long time trying to figure out that math, and I’ve given up trying to figure it out. I thought that maybe there was some “magic.” If I could only tap into that well, but I can’t. I wasn’t happy with the finished product, but I still don’t know exactly why. It just didn’t turn out that funny.

Neely: I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to read its predecessor.

Ajay: I can send it to you. You know, this is the third time it was made.

Neely: I remember when you and David Schwimmer and a couple of other guys anted up the money on the last go round so that you could reshoot some things.

Ajay: We made the first one for NBC in a traditional way. The pilot got shot, got tested; and then they said “Let’s replace the lead. Everything else works.” The lead scored very very poorly. Easier said than done because there aren’t a lot of Indian/American actors that are funny. I had Kal Penn.

Neely: They didn’t like Kal Penn???

Ajay: No, America didn’t like Kal Penn; meaning the “testing” didn’t like Kal Penn. Kal Penn, while being very funny in the movies probably didn’t have a lot of stage experience at the time; and it was a stage show. There’s a little bit of a learning curve. Right or wrong, things get blamed on actors sometimes. Actors get fired at table readings, as if that’s the problem and not the script. We went through an exhaustive search to find someone to replace Kal Penn and we came up with a comedian. Remember, we’d already searched everywhere. Anyway, we came up with another guy, a stand up comic named Arj Barker, who ended up recurring on “Flight of the Conchords.” A very funny guy, but not an actor; he’s a stand-up. So we were shut down and then two days later I was playing the part. By this time we had spent everything but $200,000, so Schwimmer, who was directing, and everyone else, including me, kicked back our fees and we shot it in hopes of trying to sell it. We had something, but in the end the thought was that if a stand up comedian couldn’t do it, how could a writer who’s never acted do it.

Anyway, Kevin Reilly liked it sufficiently. He had always thought about it, so when he went to Fox and the circumstances were right, he said “Let’s try it again.” So, essentially, I wrote a new script; mostly the same characters with a new character added here and there. We kept a couple of the original cast members and the rest were new people because it had been six years since we had done the original. We shot it and it became like a regular pilot again. But you know the story of pilots is that they generally just stay pilots.

Neely: So there’s nothing you could think that you could redo.

Ajay: I’ve redone it so many times; I suppose I could go in and say “Let’s make some different casting choices; let’s make another director choice; let’s go back to the script draft that everyone liked.” But in performance, at table readings and run-throughs, it’s all going to get changed by the very nature of the beast. “They” demand a certain amount, no, rather they expect a certain amount of constant change. “We can beat this. We can make it better. It was funny on Tuesday; it’s not funny on Thursday – reach into your big bucket of things and put something funny in there.” For their purposes, it works sometimes. Using your example, they made “Gary Unmarried,” a script you didn’t care for, into something that was funny enough to get on the air. That churning machine is what they live by.

Neely: Let’s talk some more about the pilot development process.

Ajay: The process of making a pilot itself is like 40 people staring at a surgeon when he’s trying to do surgery, with all of them going “what if you did this.” And saying obvious things like, “Hey, we should probably not let him die.” That kind of thing. What can you do? The process is the process.

Neely: Yes, but one of the counterproductive elements in that process is that many times the least experienced development execs, the ones who’ve just been taken off an assistant’s desk, get to weigh in with equal force. Sure, they’ve read a lot of scripts in the previous few years, but they don’t have a larger context and have no history. I’m trying not to be too harsh, but that is exactly what a beginning development executive is. You have 40 people involved in the process, all of whom want to put in their two cents worth so that their bosses think that they’re really smart because they came up with something, anything…

Ajay: …that they’re engaged and they’re earning their salary. I know. It’s kind of a broken system.

Neely: But it’s especially counterproductive for funny.

Ajay: I agree.

Neely: I get the feeling that you’re not done with this story.

Ajay: If I was given the chance to make it again, I would make it again. I don’t know how, but I still think it’s worth while. I just think that it’s going to be a long time, if ever, before anyone agrees because I’ve already done it three times.

Neely: Have you given any consideration to going international? This is as much a natural for British TV as it is for Indian TV. Think of the huge potential audience on Indian TV. We always talk about thinking globally but rarely do.

Ajay: I don’t know what the economics would be and I don’t know how it would work. But the Indian TV business as I understand it, is geared toward the ladies in the villages who buy the soap and watch the…

Neely: …telenovelas.

Ajay: Exactly. I don’t know. I would love to try it but I don’t know how to get from here to there.

Neely: I think it would be worth the investigation. It really is a huge huge market. Or think about British TV. They’ve got an even larger Indian market. This would be perfect on the smaller scale that they work with – limited episodes. Two potential contacts might be Paul Lee, the new head of ABC who started BBC America and Lee Bartlett, who was just hired at Discovery Networks, and just arrived back in the States after several years heading production at ITV. I understand BBC America is interested in cross-programming, creating shows here that will work on BBC here and in Britain. British television seems like an absolute natural.

Ajay: I would have to figure out how to do it. Right now I’m in the “hangover” stage. It’s sort of like “How dead can I make this show?” So far, I’ve made it dead three times. But that is a very good idea.

Neely: There’s a show there. Maybe the U.S. is the wrong market. It may still be worth kicking this allegedly dead horse.

Ajay: You may have a point.

Neely: Let’s talk some more about your roots. Unlike me, who is first generation only on my mother’s side, you are a double first generation.

Ajay: Both of my parents came to California in the 60’s. My mother followed my father, whose work was in aerospace. In the 60s in Southern California, aerospace was a really big deal; he was an engineer, and that’s where the work was. They became citizens as soon as they were eligible. So yeah, we’re Southern Californians.

Neely: How much family do you still have in India?

Ajay: My father’s family is quite large. He had 9 brothers and sisters. My mother’s sister lives here; both of her parents, now deceased, moved here, so she doesn’t have a big family over there. But I think if I went with my family I’d have free places to stay in a few towns.

Neely: Have you been?

Ajay: The only time Kelli and I went to India was after “The Practice” pilot was shot and picked up but before it started shooting. We haven’t gone with our kids, but now our youngest is at an age where I think it would be fun to go – he’s 7. Now he’ll remember it. We didn’t want to take him when he was 3 and waste all that money and have him say “I don’t remember.”

Neely: You were a Valley boy and went to Buckley. Were you conflicted about bringing your friends home?

Ajay: No. My friends were my good friends and they knew who my parents were; it was no problem. We had to do some more intricate lying to my parents for me to get out of the house on a Saturday night and go and do the “Less than Zero” style things that we did. But we didn’t not lie to the other parents either.

Neely: As you said before, you went to UCLA.

Ajay: Like I mentioned, I failed out as a pre-med biology major. I just wasn’t interested or engaged. I went to the Dean and explained that I really wanted to be a writer and that I had started in the wrong direction and would he please give me another chance. We worked something out so that I got back in and then I was an English major in Creative Writing and did very well. It was a good change.

Neely: Any particularly inspirational teachers?

Ajay: There was a guy named Brian Moore who was a novelist, and my professor Carolyn See, the novelist and memoirist – she was great. She was highly influential and very supportive and I think she’s just fantastic. She’s just one of a kind. I mean this in the nicest way, but she was always weird, and great, and upbeat and encouraging and fought against the dominant Southern California image of writers as being there to report on a vacuous vacant land. Though I think she admired some of those people, she wasn’t going to change her approach. For her to have made the career that she has is amazing to me. Even then I knew it, but she’s still her own person.

Neely: You have to read her memoir Dreaming.

Ajay: I have it, but I haven’t yet read it. I’ve probably read some of it and then something got me away. Once I had kids, there’s been a giant gap in my reading. Now I’m back.

Neely: It’s one of the most hilariously horrific books I’ve ever read. When I put the book down, I turned to my husband and said “I’m not complaining about my mother ever again.” (I doubt whether I’ll keep that promise, but it was meaningful at the time.)

Going backwards just a bit; so it was in college that you found that you wanted to be a writer?

Ajay: Yes. Someone I knew beginning in junior high and who became a very close friend of mine in high school was Bret Ellis. He’s still one of my closest and oldest friends. Bret always knew he wanted to be a writer but what he was doing was strange and none of us really understood what it was. But he got his book published when he was 20! It opened the door for a lot of people – a lot of people who were his friends and classmates. For me it made it all possible. I couldn’t believe you could actually do that for a living. Bret was a great example that you could just do it.

Neely: How about mentors along the way? It sounds like Carolyn was one.

Ajay: Carolyn was one. She was always very supportive. Brian Moore, less so, but he was a great teacher. After I graduated as an English major, I took a year off and then went to film school at UCLA for an MFA in screenwriting. The teachers there were really good. Richard Walter, Lew Hunter, Hal Ackerman – they weren’t mentors so much, but they were people who helped. I’ve never really had mentors, but I have had some good teachers.

Neely: I just read this in an issue of “Written by” and I thought it was particularly astute. Number 88 of 101 Things I Learned in Film School by Neil Landau with Matthew Frederick was: “If you want to write, read. If you want to make films, see films.” So what are you reading right now and what have you seen recently that you liked?

Ajay: I tend to be segregated over towards kid films…

Neely: Funny thing about having kids.

Ajay: …and movies that come through the mail during screening time. That’s when I get to watch that kind of thing. So November/December is coming up and then Kelli and I can catch up on all the films that have come out.  So, movies are not a great example. But I’m reading a lot. I read a book called The Girl Who Fell from the Sky by Heidi Durrow. I was on vacation recently and read Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, and now Four Fish by Paul Greenberg which is a book I recently got on my iPad. This iPad thing, while kind of gimmicky, has increased the number of books that I read. It’s just so easy to carry around and have 10 books at once. I’m reading a book right now called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, but that’s because someone wants to make a TV show out of it and it’s a possible job.

Neely: The one thing that’s kept me from getting any of those devices, and certainly the iPad, is that it seems too much like a computer screen and it hurts my eyes to read on a computer screen.

Ajay: For me I’m the opposite. With the iPad I don’t have to wear my reading glasses; I can zoom in. When Kelli’s going to sleep, our biggest argument always starts with “will you turn off the light.” She has to go to bed and I want to read late; this way I can just read in bed. Also, I can take it with me and I’ve got 10 books on there so if I’m bored with one, I’m not forced to finish it, I can go to the next one.

Neely: What about directing?  Still interested in doing that?

Ajay: I am. I made one film in 2000 that was a longish short.

Neely: “It’s a Shame about Ray;” I went to the screening. It seemed to be about your feelings about Kelli and agonizing over worthiness.

Ajay: It was about living your life when you can live it and not waiting around. It was a good general theme for a movie. Do it while you can do it; be what you can be when you can be it and not when it’s too late.

Neely: I loved it because I spent far too many years agonizing over whether I was worthy of my husband.

Ajay: I understand…it’s not a way to live.

Neely: You’re right, it’s counterproductive. It’s one of those things where you just have to throw your hands up and say “Okay. This is the way it is, and I don’t get it, but who cares.” But that takes a lot of time or a lot of therapy.

Ajay: Letting go of preconceived notions of how you think things are going to go opens you up to how things actually go.

Neely: Sorry for the sidetrack. And directing?

Ajay: Since then I haven’t had any opportunity. I’ve been in the grind of trying to make money to feed these private school tuitions and everything else that goes on. But yes, of course I’d love to and still have those aspirations and still write things toward that end. There was one thing that I wrote for a friend who’s a producer and if it ever gets made, I’ll be able to direct it. It’s a hard road, but it’s nothing I can pursue full time right now. I have to write three pilots this year because they’re still hiring me to write pilots, so that’s what I’m going to do until they kick me out.

Neely: How did and Kelli meet.

Ajay: We knew each other because we were all part of the same circle of friends. I think the first time I met her, she came over to pick up my then-live-in girlfriend for a girls night out. A few years later, when we were both single, I invited her to my book publication party.

Neely: I didn’t know you’d written a novel.  Tell me about it.

Ajay: It’s not a very good novel; it was my first book, written when I was in my 20s. It’s called Pool and is no longer in print but you could probably find it somewhere for a penny on Amazon. It takes place on a movie set. It answers the question of what might happen if, say a huge actor like a Johnny Depp, while in the middle of filming a “Pirates of the Caribbean,” disappeared and didn’t show up to work. What machinations would take place in the movie business because this giant juggernaut is dependent on this one guy and this one guy decided that he wasn’t coming in to work that day and decided instead to go to, in this case, Vermont and hang out with some friends. Essentially they rewrite the movie, move it to Vermont and the mountain comes to Mohammed.

Neely: Actually you’re being a tad too self-deprecating. The lowest price at which it can be found is $10 and it was extremely well-reviewed. I quote The Washington Post Book world:
”A faultlessly crafted, beautifully constructed, Beckett-in-a-hot-tub, Noel-Coward-on-ludes, Hunter-Thompson-with-an-editor novel.” Have you written any more books since then?

Ajay: I’ve written a lot of short fiction and a novel, which I’m still working on but don’t think it’s publishable yet; I’ve been working on it, on and off, for 10 years. I’m also writing a work of non-fiction that’s in the experiential genre that authors do for a year. It should be done in the next couple of months.

Neely: Besides pilots, anything else? Do you have an overall?

Ajay: I wish. They don’t really make them that often anymore, and they almost always include a staffing component, which is difficult in my case since I have literally no experience working on someone else’s show. What I end up doing is I write scripts for whatever network and do it with their sister studio. Generally I pitch something that I would like to write. I’m going to pitch something today at 3:00 and if they like the idea, like me and want to work with me, well that’s kind of how it works.

Neely: I don’t want to make you late for your meeting. Thanks for taking the time today. I can’t wait to read more from you.  Please say hi to the family for me.

Neely can be reached at neely@nomeanerplace.com

August 4, 2010

“Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for.” – Ray Bradbury

“Funny in Farsi” by Nastaran Dibai & Jeffrey B. Hodes — Based on the book: Funny in Farsi by Firoozeh Dumas.

Part II

No Meaner Place: In the previous article and conversation with the husband and wife writing team of Dibai and Hodes, we discussed the process of adapting the book written by Firoozeh Dumas and how, unfortunately, the third time was not the charm, as the pilot had been still born twice before it was finally produced.  They shared how personal the adaptation was, given the fact that Nastaran, herself, is Iranian and that Jeffrey, at this point, is an honorary Iranian, knowing and having shared so many experiences with Nastaran’s family. In discussing “Funny in Farsi” almost exclusively in the last article, I wanted to take more time and talk to Nastaran and Jeffrey about their careers. As a prelude to that continued conversation, it would be appropriate to lead off with the original cold opening/establishing shots of the pilot. Think of it as a love song to America:

Stock Shot: An Antique Map of the U.S.A.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.): This country was built by immigrants. We all came from somewhere else or came from someone who came from somewhere else.

As the camera zooms down into the map, the map becomes 3-D. We’re flying through a 3-D map of hills, valleys. We zip down to New York Harbor and fly around the Statue of Liberty.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) And why did we all come here? Because America was a place of freedom where you could reach your full potential. Even Lady Liberty came over from France and got a job her first day here.

As we zoom back out and fly westward over the map of America, iconic landmarks pop up: the man-mad Erie Canal busts its way to the Great Lakes, the Sears Tower sprouts up on Chicago, the Arch forms itself on St. Louis. Interstates start connecting the cities on the map.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) Just look at all this! It’s no accident that people came to America from every corner of the world. They needed a canvas this vast to fill with all their colors.

The camera moves past Mount Rushmore.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) Like this fantastic thing? Designed and carved by the son of Danish immigrants. And it was immortalized in “North by Northwest,” a great American movie directed by a British guy and starring a Welsh guy, both of whom had to come here to make their mark in the world. You see where I’m going with this?

The camera flies past the Golden Gate Bridge, down the California coast. It flies over L.A. as the letters of the Hollywood sign rise up. We settle in on Newport Beach.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) And it was in this spirit my family emigrated to the U.S. We hadn’t contributed anything great yet, but that was the cool thing about America. The field was wide open.

Life Lessons for Writers: The field is still wide open!

More Conversation with the Writers:

Neely: You both have fantastic credits, ranging from “Roc Live,” “Living Single,” “3rd Rock from the Sun,” to “The Nanny,” “According to Jim” and “Rita Rocks.”  What was your first staff job?

Jeffrey/Nastaran: “Roc” the year it was live was our first staff job.

Nastaran: We were only on it the year it was live.

Neely: I didn’t even remember that they did it live.

Jeffrey: There was one season it was live and that was our first staff gig. It gave us skills that we use to this day because we got to do live TV, which almost no one does. We learned to write fast and maintain strong structure. The scene would be over and they would say “look we need two more pages because Charles Dutton has to do a walking costume change behind the set.” You had to find a reason to extend the scene that didn’t feel artificial. It was a real trial by fire, so by the time we got our second staff gig, we were hardened criminals like Charles Dutton.

Nastaran: Don’t put that in.

Jeffrey: No. Put that in; it’s funny. He’s a great actor. His background is not a mystery.

Neely: As I just mentioned, you have great credits.

Jeffrey: Actually we don’t have great credits. I’m not saying the shows we worked on weren’t good, because they were all great learning experiences but we haven’t had the kind of credits where people think we’re really hot. No one goes “Oh my God. They were the guys on “Raymond” or “Friends.” But every show we were on taught us something, so they were all valuable and I wouldn’t trade any of those experiences; well, maybe one or two.

Neely: When did you start writing as a team?

Jeffrey: In 1990, actually 1989. We got married in 1990, so we’ve been a married writing team for …

Nastaran: You’re giving away our age.

Jeffrey: I don’t care.

Nastaran: We were 12 when we met.

Jeffrey: Okay, we were 12. When we started, we were both assistants at Grant Tinker’s old company GTG Entertainment, it was where the Culver Studios are now. As a way of hitting on Nastaran, I showed her some notes for a spec I was writing. And then we both realized we were good at different things that went together well. Four months later, I proposed.

Nastaran: While we were dating, we were writing our first spec, which is really going to date us. It was a “Murphy Brown.” And every time we got together for a date, we wrote a scene..

Neely: How does your particular team work? Do you write in the same room, talk about it at dinner, mine your child and siblings for stories?

Jeffrey: It works differently now than it did then.

Neely: How did it work then and how does it work now?

Jeffrey: Why don’t you answer this.

Nastaran: We’re not the kind of people who split up acts and go and write separately. I could not write a word without Jeffrey.

Jeffrey: Aw, that’s nice.

Nastaran: We sit there and we write every single line together. When it comes to breaking stories, we used to do everything together, but now we’ll talk about the general idea and then I’ll say let me take a stab at the outline. Then I’ll give it to Jeffrey and he’ll look at it and be a bit more objective and he’ll say, “This is where I see a hole or this is repetitive.”  And then he’ll take a stab at it. We used to work out our outlines together, but now we’ll discuss the story, we’ll break it; but then in terms of filling in the details, we go back and forth.

Jeffrey: Usually one of us will write the initial outline. Over the years I’ve acquired some of Nastaran’s skills and she’s acquired some of mine. But in general, I would say that Nastaran is the more structural thinker and I’m more the one who can make the characters walk and talk and say funny things. Nastaran has a clear sense of a framework and I’m the one who says, “You know what might move this structure forward is a moment like this.” And she’ll say, “That’s great; let’s do that.”

Nastaran: Just the other day I was going through my desk, trying to clean it out, and I found the initial notes for “Funny in Farsi.” This pilot was sold about three years ago; they bought it before the strike. We handed in a first draft the night before the strike. Anyway, I was looking over the notes to see what I initially wrote (3 years ago) – what the story should be – and it’s pretty much the story we wrote for the pilot. I’ll look at something and say to myself, I think this is the story, I think this is the shape; but then Jeffrey is unbelievable at helping me fill it in. In terms of actual sitting down to write, we literally write every line together.

Jeffrey: Every line.

Neely: Do you work at home?

Jeffrey: Yes, when we don’t have a job.

Nastaran: When we’re writing pilots, we work at home.  For the last couple of years we’ve been working at a studio. The way we work when we’re on a show is a different process. When we’re on staff, the story is usually broken in the room but then we’ll write the script together. When we’re running a show, Jeffrey and I tend not to write scripts. We like to oversee and let other people write the scripts. We’re not the kind of showrunners who have to write 6 or 10 or every episode and have our name on everything. We like to give it out to other people…

Jeffrey: …mostly because, first of all, we have enough to do when we’re running a show. Other showrunner friends of ours say that when you’re running a show every script is yours. Now that’s not literally true; there’s a writer who’s gone out and worked very hard on a draft. But it’s our job to oversee and make sure all the scripts have a consistent tone and fit in the way we want to do it. There are showrunners who can do it, and I’m going to go on record and say they’re more talented than at least I am.  I don’t know how you can run a show and write every episode. I don’t believe it happens as often as it’s advertised.

Neely: When you’re in a comedy room, and everyone’s pitching stories, are you mining your own family, your kid, your brothers and sisters?

Jeffrey: One of the ways we like to run shows efficiently is that we want the writers to go home and live and be happy to come back the next day and say, “Oh, I had a fight with my husband.” Or “My wife and I argued over blank.” And we’ll go, “Okay, great, let’s talk about what that fight is really about.”

Nastaran: That’s especially true when you’re working on a family sitcom. I can tell you that when we were on staff on “According to Jim” (we were there for the first four years), there were many many stories used or germs of stories that ended up being episodes that came from our lives or from the other writers’ lives. Someone would come in and say, “My wife just hates going to the dentist.” Then he would tell a story and we would all think about how that could be an episode. We really mined all of our lives on that show.

Jeffrey: I think all the best shows do that; the best sitcoms. I’ve heard “Everybody Loves Raymond” was like that.

Nastaran: Not that I can’t write something totally from imagination, but it always helps if I can relate to it in some level.

Neely: Have either of you written on your own since you began as a team?

Jeffrey: I have. I wrote a short humor piece for “Smoke Magazine” once – it was a cigar magazine. And I’m writing a book right now, although it’s taking forever because I’m too busy trying to get a TV show.

Nastaran: Jeffrey can operate independently of me, particularly when it comes to writing prose. I really feel like I need the other person because I can’t tell if something is good unless I have someone to bounce my ideas off of.

Neely: So how did you get staffed on “Roc?”

Jeffrey: Some things in show business never change. We knew the Executive Producer. (laughs) Now, I don’t think he would have hired us if he didn’t think we could do it because if you’re running a show you’re not going to do anybody any favors; you’ve got to hire people who are going to make you look good. We definitely did our best to deliver on the staff writer level.

Nastaran: Actually he ended up leaving the show after 3 or 4 episodes, but they kept us on for the full season.

Neely: Had you done a spec that got you hired?

Nastaran: Yes, we were hired based on a couple of specs we had written. He was a friend and he read the specs and liked them and he said, “If I ever have a show, I’ll hire you.” And he did.

Neely: Any horror stories (the names of the innocent, I mean guilty, shall be protected even thought they probably shouldn’t be) that you can discuss?

Jeffrey: Do we have horror stories?  Yes! Can we discuss them? I don’t know. I can tell two short stories without naming names or identifying the shows. On one occasion we were on a show where one of the executive producers tried to break up our team because this person felt that we weren’t both valuable even though that wasn’t really true.  That was kind of unpleasant, given that we were also married.

Nastaran: I know that teams split up all the time, but when you’re married, it’s a whole different game. We both ended up leaving that show because even though they were offering up a lot of money, we always agreed from the beginning that our marriage was more important. Then we had another experience on another show where the lead just hated us…

Jeffrey: …the two leads, whose names you’ll probably never remember so I’m not going to say them, just hated us. So after we got the show picked up for a second season, we stepped down because it wasn’t worth it to run it any more. Our lives are more important than show business.

Nastaran: Honest to God, to this day, we’re not really sure exactly what it was about us that these particular actors didn’t like, but sometimes it’s just about chemistry in this business and the chemistry just wasn’t there. I will say that we’ve never had anything but good relations with the cast on the other shows we’ve been on. We’re very intent on hearing what they have to say and making sure their concerns are being addressed. Our theory is that if an actor doesn’t like or understand something, then they’re never going to be able to play it, so let’s hear them out; short of having them tell us exactly what to write.

Jeffrey: When an actor says that something is hard for him to say, I have to try to honor that and work it out. We were sort of flummoxed on that one show because we have a reputation for being collaborative, but, you know what, those were the two worst examples. For the most part, we’ve had really great experiences and the bad experiences were educational.

Neely: Let’s talk about some good experiences and mentors.

Jeffrey: I would say Bonnie and Terry Turner on “3rd Rock from the Sun.” They were great examples to us before we became showrunners. Any time you talk to a Carsey Werner writer they talk about it like summer camp. The Turners were great people, they were really down to earth; they hired wonderful people on their staffs who were thrilled to get on “3rd Rock” and they were proof that you could have fun, be collaborative, go home and have a life and a pleasant experience.

Nastaran: Actually, when we were on “3rd Rock” the Turners weren’t there full time. But the tone that was set on that show amongst the writers, amongst the cast, everyone – it was just so positive and great. So, we really admired them because we learned you don’t have to be there until 2:00 in the morning; that you can be collaborative; everyone can be nice; it doesn’t have to be about politics – and you can still deliver a show that everyone is proud of. Anyway, that was the atmosphere on “3rd Rock.” And Bonnie and Terry were at the helm of it at the beginning so it came down from them.

Jeffrey: It did.

Nastaran: Everyone was just wonderful.

Jeffrey: I would say that “The Nanny,” although I’m not sure it’s considered “a high falutin’ writing show” like was great too. To this day, people love this show It continues to get re-sold in syndication. I have no snobbery about it; it was nothing but fun. Fran Drescher was a star and when we came on “The Nanny” it was a top 10 show, but she was a very down to earth star. And this was a situation where we learned that you don’t have to be above anybody.

Nastaran: We’re still friends with her…

Jeffrey: …we’re still friends with her and a lot of those writers.

Nastaran: And we had a very very good experience when we went to New York to run “Hope and Faith” for a year.

Jeffrey: It was the third season.

Nastaran: I have to say it was the happiest time of our lives in terms of doing a show because we were doing it in New York and we had a really wonderful cast and crew. It was like one of those periods in life where everyday I’d wake up and realize I was having a good experience. And I wanted to make sure that I was aware of this so I could look back on it and know that I truly appreciated it.

Jeffrey: A lot of writers will tell you that some of their favorite shows were not necessarily shows that were highly rated or didn’t stay on the air. Ultimately ABC cancelled “Hope and Faith.” But it doesn’t matter because we had a great experience. We ran it the way we wanted to and we had a wonderful wonderful collaboration with the cast. Kelly Ripa, Faith Ford and Ted McGinley were about the most pleasant, professional people you could hope to work with. It was too much fun.

Nastaran: And the writing staff. They were all awesome.

Jeffrey: We’ve had a lot of good mentors. You learn every step of the way. Even the bad experiences will teach you. From the time we got into this, we’ve always played the game of “What would we have done differently?” We were always in a management/showrunning frame of mind even from the time we were staff writers.

Nastaran: The other show that really helped us was “According to Jim” because the Executive Producers gave us a lot of responsibilities. They let us run rooms. We were on the floor. They were very good about letting us be involved with the show. I will to this day say that I learned more on that show than any other because they just let us do it.

Jeffrey: “According to Jim” was also great because we rotated who ran the episodes. They had like four or five hundred executive producers and we all kind of took turns running the show. So one week Nastaran would do it, one week I’d do it, another week someone else would do it. We called it “driving the bus” and the agreement was that whoever was driving the bus that week made the decisions. They had three executive producers who had created the show but they were very very generous in letting other people take the reins.

Nastaran: EPs and Co-Eps.

Jeffrey: That was educational too because then you learned to give up control. You had it for a week and then it was someone else’s to run and you had to get used to not being an overseer but being a part of the team. And that was a really great learning experience that I think more showrunners forget. Some showrunners get a show and they lose their minds and think they’re Napoleon. You have to remember that you came up through the ranks and you were part of a team so you can’t forget how a team functions. You have to keep morale up and you’ve got to treat people with respect.

Neely: What did each of you do before you started working on a show? What were your goals and what did you do before you had that first writing job?

Nastaran: I actually worked for a while as a cinematographer up in Canada, mostly shooting documentaries where I got to travel all over the world. And then I came down here and went to the American Film Institute because I got a fellowship in cinematography. But then after all that, I started to look at some people I knew who were writers and I was like “these guys are making really good money; maybe I can do that.” And I just switched over. Honestly, for me, I think it was the ignorance of what was ahead that made me take the leap. There are times now when I wish I could go back to when I wasn’t afraid. Now it’s like “that’s not going to happen” because I know how it works. But when I moved here from Canada, I didn’t know any better, so I just thought, “well I guess I could write.” I had no idea of the obstacles that were ahead of me; like just how hard it is to even get an agent. That kind of ignorance was definitely bliss.

Jeffrey: I was a classical musician.

Neely: Really?! What instrument?

Jeffrey: I was a percussionist. I went to a summer internship program with the Boston Symphony Orchestra called Tanglewood and I played concerts with Leonard Bernstein and Seiji Ozawa and studied with some great classical orchestral musicians. I played gigs; I played with the Boston Ballet occasionally and some local orchestras. But I looked around one day and said “I really love TV and movies and I don’t think I’m going to make a good living at this.” I had a really good memory for dialogue and themes for movies, even as a little kid. I’d go to see a movie and I’d come home and recite the entire movie obnoxiously to my family. I had reached a point where I knew I was a good musician but I was never really going to be great. I’m not even sure that I was that good; I was only good at some things. But I did it until I was about 22 and I played my last concert on the Boston Esplanade and I hung it up and moved out West. I worked on a dude ranch in Wyoming for a while and then I moved out here with 80 bucks in my pocket because somebody said to me “if you want to work on TV shows and movies, then you’d better go where they do it.”

Neely: Where did you both grow up and go to college?

Jeffrey: I grew up in Worcester, Mass. and went to the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. I should have made up something like I went to M.I.T. because then you’d think I was smart, but now you just think I’m a nerd. (laughs) My family rarely comes up in our conversations but, although there is some doubt in the origins, I seem to be descended from a line of questionable Eastern Europeans who arrived in this country early in the last century.

Nastaran: When my family first came to the U.S. we lived in Ohio.  Even though my father was a practicing dentist in Iran, he got a scholarship from the Iranian government to go to Ohio State University, where he specialized in prosthodontics (dictionary note: The branch of dentistry that deals with the replacement of missing teeth and related mouth or jaw structures by bridges, dentures, or other artificial devices). This was a big opportunity for him.  Anyway, he decided to give up his practice in Iran, and just packed up the whole family and moved to Columbus, Ohio. So at the age of 38 he was a student again, living in student housing with a wife and two kids.  That was an unbelievable leap of faith on his part.  It taught me a lot.  It taught me that seeking the best place to live was worth all the bumps in the road that we had along the way.  And we did have a lot of bumps.  That’s where all the stories for “Funny in Farsi” would have come from.

After that we moved to Canada. Even though our life in the States wasn’t luxurious by any means, my father preferred living in a one-bedroom apartment and using food stamps to going back to Iran.  He tried to get work in the States, and with his specialization there were plenty of opportunities for him, but he was only here on a student visa and the U.S. government wouldn’t let him stay here legally. (At the time, this government was on very friendly terms with the Shah of Iran, the government at that time.) That’s when my father, intent on not returning to Iran, decided to apply for work in Canada.  McGill University in Montreal really wanted him badly, so they offered him a job if he could just get himself to the U.S./Canada border.  Essentially, we all escaped to Canada in an 18 hour period.  Once we got to the border McGill had arranged immigration papers for the whole family.  And my father never went back to Iran. My family is all up in Canada still.  Although, my father, who passed away last year, eventually became a Canadian citizen just like the rest of us, he remained infatuated with the United States.  He would always say, “I love Canada, but the U.S. is still the best country in the world.”   I guess you always remember your first love.

I went to high school and college, Concordia University, up in Montreal. But after Concordia, I applied for a fellowship to the American Film Institute and got in. When I graduated AFI, I went back to Canada, but I only stayed a short while. Nothing against Canada, it was just that at that point I’d been exposed to the way Americans do things – all big and shiny. And everything there seemed to be on such a small scale in comparison. So I moved back down to LA. That’s when I decided to try to pursue writing and it turned out okay I guess.

Jeffrey: We’ll see.

Neely: Where or what are you guys working on right now?

Jeffrey: We’re just getting back in development. We have a bunch of projects we’re trying to get off the ground. But it just seems silly to talk about it right now because everything is still in the nascent stage.

Neely: Are you on any kind of an Overall?

Jeffrey/Nastaran: No. We’ve never had a deal. We’re not on an Overall, which is fine…

Jeffrey: …On an Overall, they own you and can stick you on a show you don’t want to be on, so who needs that…

Nastaran: …That’s not why we’re not on one. I’d be happy to be on one…

Jeffrey: …Well, actually, we’re not on one because nobody gave us one.

Nastaran: But this year we’ve decided that no matter what we end up selling, we’ll definitely write something that’s just ours, that doesn’t go through the development process. Something that we want to write, that we just sit down and write on our own.

Jeffrey: I will go on record as saying that even though we’ve come across many good executives, the development process, inherently, doesn’t work. If it did, more shows would get on, stay on, and split a basically equal viewership in their timeslots. That’s not the case. And the truth is that it just doesn’t make the shows better. I just wish there was a little trust towards writers from the executive side. After all, when you hire someone to do something, you’re paying them for their particular voice, so let them do it. I would never give my surgeon surgery notes.

Nastaran: It’s funny, but of all the things we’ve ever written, the one that got the least amount of notes because everybody was on the same page from the beginning was “Funny in Farsi.” We handed in a draft before the strike, and they gave us notes, but very normal notes.

Jeffrey: They weren’t development notes, they were like clarifying notes, which were fine.

Nastaran: And ultimately the script they picked up to shoot was based on what we wrote. We got maybe one set of notes at the outline stage and one set of notes at the script stage. What it proves to me is that when everyone is on the same page at the beginning, forget about the fact that they didn’t pick it up to series, it turns out better.

Jeffrey: When everyone is going in the same direction.

Nastaran: Exactly.

Jeffrey: But when you bring something in and everyone is picking it apart, and going “this character isn’t likeable;” it’s our job to know the structure and how to make it work. If we can’t do that then they shouldn’t be hiring us or anybody.

Nastaran: I’m of a slightly different mind than Jeffrey about that process because I do think notes can help. I just think it’s more productive when everyone is going in the same direction, because with every set of notes you’re refining and making things sharper. But sometimes you hand in an outline or a script and they turn around and say, “what if it’s not about this but it’s about this?” and it’s a completely different concept. That’s when everything starts to fall apart. And we’ve had that happen, too. Thankfully it didn’t happen with “Funny in Farsi” and I think the script benefited from that.

Neely: The art of giving and receiving notes is very tricky territory.  As referenced as few weeks ago, Peter Lefcourt, who is famously prickly about the receipt of such, wrote an interesting and amusing article about the subject in “Written By” magazine. (http://www.mydigitalpublication.com/publication/?i=36445&31&p=21)

My wish for you on this topic would be a variation on the Irish Blessing:

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May your writing be beloved and appreciated.

May the notes be clarifying and contributing.

And may those who don’t get it be struck mute so that their useless thoughts are never heard.

Thanks for spending so much time with me.

Coming Soon: “Nevermind Nirvana” by Ajay Sahgal.

Contact Neely at neely@nomeanerplace.com

July 28, 2010

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” – Emma Lazarus

“Funny in Farsi” by Nastaran Dibai & Jeffrey B. Hodes  (Based on the book: Funny in Farsi by Firoozeh Dumas)

What: Mohammed Sayed Kazem Jazayeri has taken a job with an oil company and moved his entire family from Tehran to Newport Beach, CA. This fish has jumped out of the water!

Who: Looking back, daughter Firoozeh, age 13 at the time, was resourceful and observant:

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) Look at us. In a town where everyone was blond and sailed, we stood out like a living oil spill.

Eager to assimilate, out of necessity each family member (with the exception of Firoozeh) Americanizes his or her first name. Father Mohammed Sayed Kazem becomes Kaz; mother Nazireh became Nancy after a brief disastrous trial as Nazi; and teenage brother Farshid, the football team’s equipment manager, became Chip as soon as he realized how many bodily functions could be made to sound like Farshid.

Television and fast food were the touchstones of the Jazayeri family’s understanding of America.

Nancy: Please set up the trays. You know it’s Bowling for Bucks night and your father will be home any minute.

Firoozeh takes five TV trays from a closet and puts them in a row in front of the television. As she sets them:

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) TV was my family’s campfire. Every night we’d bask in its comforting glow. And with each game show, sitcom, and bologna commercial, we understood America just a little more.

SFX: The refrigerator shudders and groans loudly.

Chip: What’s wrong with the refrigerator?

Nancy: Same thing that is wrong with the washing machine and the vacuum cleaner. Your father refuses to buy anything new. It’s all second-hand junk from garage sales…Sometimes I think your father would be happier if he’d bought me half price from a family that was about to move.

Kaz and his jovial younger brother, Uncle Mansoor (early 30’s), enter with a bucket of KFC and all the fixins.

Kaz: Look what your Uncle Mo and I brought. Kentucky Fried Chicken!

Uncle Mo: Yes sir. They say it is licking finger good and they do not lie.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) That’s my Uncle Mansoor, Uncle Mo. He came for a three-week visit. Six months ago.

Nancy: But we just had fried chicken on Sonny and Cher night.

Uncle Mo: That was the Colonel’s Original recipe. This is extra crispy, (like commercial) with fourteen secret herbs and spices cooked to crispy perfection.

And though each member of the family had his or her own favorite television program – from “Happy Days,” “Hawaii 5-0,” “The Six Million Dollar Man” to “The Carol Burnett Show,” nothing quite resonated like “Bowling for Bucks,” as it was Kaz’s Holy Grail to be chosen as a contestant – his bowling team didn’t call him Kaz the Jazz for nothing!

Disaster struck, as it was destined to do with garage sale merchandise, and the television finally blew up.

Adult Firoozeh: (V.O.) TV was our link to American culture, our Rosetta Stone. There was more sadness that night than back in Iran when my Mom’s third cousin got dragged away by the secret police.

Kaz: Don’t worry. This weekend, Uncle Mo and I will go to garage sales until we find a brand new used TV.

The family rebelled against Kaz and demanded a brand new television – a Zenith like that owned by their next door neighbors the Applebys. Kaz, however, dug in his heels for he was, after all, the king of this realm and he swore never to buy retail.

Nancy: No!

Everyone reacts. This open defiance is unusual for Nancy.

Kaz: What do you mean, “no”?

Nancy: I mean no more used anything. Everyone says, “You pay for what you get.”

Chip: It’s “You get what you pay for.”

Nancy: That also makes sense. Let’s do that.

Kaz: I will never pay retail. Never.

Nancy: But you have a good job. You can afford it.

Kaz: I can afford it because I save for the days that rain. What if I can’t work any more because my arms and legs suddenly fall off?

Nancy: Why? Did you buy them at a garage sale?

Kaz: Listen, I once built my own radio and it only cost me twenty-five cents. A new TV probably costs ten dollars to make, but they charge an arm and a leg –

Firoozeh: Which might fall off.

Nancy: But the used junk doesn’t work! (waves TV Guide) And this is the week Mr. Grant moves into Rhoda’s old apartment. We are getting a new TV.

And with the demise of the used television came the dawning of a whole new era; one that saw the blossoming of Nancy into a more independent woman, one whose sewing talent is instantly recognized at The House of Cloth fabric store.

Candice Smiley: I hope you don’t think I was eavesdropping, but I was. Are you a professional seamstress?

Nancy: Not really. I learned to sew back in my country.

Candice Smiley: And where are you from?

Nancy: Iran.

Candice Smiley: Hmm. Never heard of it.

Nancy: It’s between Iraq and Afghanistan.

Candice Smiley: Hmm. Never heard of them.

Nancy: You make a left turn at Asia.

Candice Smiley: Oh. Listen, I want to lay it all out. Straight up, thimbles off. I’m Candice Smiley, the manager. You obviously have a gift and I’d like you to unwrap it right here.

It’s a brave new world in the Jazayeri household for now Nancy will have the means to buy the family a brand new TV.

Kaz: How could you take a job without consulting me? What is happening? Where is the woman I married?

Nancy: She’s in America now. And here women work.

Kaz: This is all Mary Tyler Moore’s fault!

Nancy: You should be happy. Now I can buy a new TV with my money.

Kaz: If anyone is going to provide a new TV for this family, it will be me. I’m the man of the house.

Nancy: Okay. Then go buy a new TV.

Kaz: No. Only I can tell me what to do. And I’m telling me not to listen to you. You know what this is? This is the battle of the sexes. I am Bobby Riggs and you are Billie Jean King.

Firoozeh: You do know Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs, right?

Kaz: We’ll just see about that!

But history does repeat itself and eventually the family does get that brand new TV when Kaz learns from his sophisticated neighbor, Paul Appleby, that Big Jimmy’s Appliance Barn has an after 4th of July half price sale on TVs, including the Zenith model his family so craves.  Life is good in America, especially on Independence Day when Kaz learned that “Americans honor their country by slashing prices.”

No Meaner Place: One of the two or three best half hours written for this season, “Funny in Farsi” landed at the network that hit the bulls eye last year with “Modern Family” and “The Middle;” both family friendly comedies.  “Funny in Farsi” should have fit right in – a slightly off- kilter family values experience celebrating what it’s like to be American. Rather than lead with strength and what could have been a brand in family entertainment, ABC chose to go the route of the rom-com singles relationship comedy – choosing what I consider to be inferior product.  I wonder how that’s going to work out for them (and in case you missed the tone, I’m dripping with sarcasm)?  Dibai and Hodes have written a laugh-out-loud classic. This is the immigrant’s story at its best – in the tradition of Leo Rosten’s famous New Yorker short stories about Hyman Kaplan.  Sharp dialogue, unusually deep character development and 100s of stories.  Someone really goofed on this and it wasn’t Dibai and Hodes.

Life Lessons for Writers: “We may never meet again, on that bumpy road to love but I’ll always keep the memory of the way your smile just beams; the way you sing off key; the way you haunt my dreams. No they can’t take that away from me.”

Conversation with the writers:

Neely: Clearly I’m a fan.  How did you come across the underlying work?

Nastaran: I’m Iranian and one of my cousins told me I had to read the book. And when I read it, it was like reading about my own life and family. I moved here in the 70s just like the author of the book, Firoozeh Dumas, and the father in the book was literally my Dad. Jeffrey related to it mainly because he had heard all of my stories. Am I right about that?

Jeffrey: Nastaran and I have been married for 20 years now and her family is my family. So, I was there for some family history and some of these things I had heard through family stories; but it’s still the classic immigrant tale.

Neely: That it is. I’m going to have to read the book.

Jeffrey: I highly recommend it…

Nastaran: …It’s a really great book. Anyway, Jeffrey had not only heard my stories but when he read the book he kept saying, “Oh my God! This is your Dad!” Just like Kazem in the book, my Dad was deeply patriotic and unbelievably cheap. My Dad was a guy who would take us on road trips and stop at every rest area just to marvel at the fact that they’d built a rest stop for weary travelers. And he would exclaim how any country that would do that for its citizens was a great country. It’s not like he didn’t appreciate the great achievements like the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building, but it was the simple things that amazed him. Like going to a department store and getting excited because they had everything in one store, or the fact that public places like restaurants and gas stations had clean bathrooms, or that Johnny Carson could tell jokes about the president every night and no one would drag him away and torture him.

Neely: Who owns the option?

Jeffrey: The book was originally optioned by ABC, specifically at the request of Samie Falvey who’s Senior Vice President of comedy. She had come across the book and snatched up the rights…

Nastaran: …Samie didn’t snatch up the rights; she liked the book and wanted to snatch up the rights.

Jeffrey: …Well ultimately they had the rights. At that point, Firoozeh Dumas, the author, had been approached by several different writing entities but when Nastaran and I were set up to meet with her, we all hit it off because of Nastaran’s background and my familiarity with it; we also hit it off personally and are still friends to this day. That’s when we moved forward with it.

Neely: How did the finished pilot look? Was there anything you would have changed? How satisfied with it were you?

Nastaran: Honestly, I think I’ll be able to answer this more objectively a year from now, once we’ve had some time away from it. Right now we’re still reeling a bit. I would say that it looks different from anything you’ve seen on TV. It was directed by Barry Sonnenfeld, so it has a visual style all its own – that has everything to do with Barry and little to do with us. Also, it’s a period piece, which isn’t something you see a lot of on TV – unless you’re on AMC and you’re “Mad Men” (which is a show that we love and admire). Add to that the fact that it’s a cast of foreigners speaking in accents, and it’s not the most likely candidate to get on network TV. We always knew it was a long shot.

Jeffrey: You know most writers have horror stories about their pilots. They got noted to death until the script disintegrated or they didn’t get along with the director or they weren’t on the same page with the network about casting. But even at this point, we’re able to look at it objectively and say – it’s not perfect but it’s what we wrote, it’s what we meant, and it definitely has the feel that we were shooting for. So it’s boring to say, but it was a very happy experience and I think it shows in the final product.

Nastaran:  We liked it. But look, are there things we would change? Absolutely. We were just talking about this today. It would have been great to have another day to shoot so that we had had more material to choose from in editing. Also we had a huge challenge in terms of casting. On a regular pilot you have a large casting pool and audition for weeks. We wanted to try to get Iranian actors for the parts, but we ran through all of those in about an hour. So we had to start seeing other ethnicities, but it’s a challenge to find someone who can handle a regular series role when their experience has mostly been playing Terrorist #1 and Terrorist #2. I will say that we were very lucky with our leads, because I think we got the two best actors for the part and they were actually Iranian. Maz Jobrani, who played Kaz, the dad, is not only a great comedian, but a skilled comic actor. And I think everyone at ABC recognized that from the start. We found an actress in New York, Marjan Neshat, who was wonderful and played the mother. But casting the kids and the uncle was a challenge because we were casting from a very shallow pool. Right now you’re hearing about all these pilots that are reshooting and recasting. I’m not really sure they could have done that with ours because let’s say they didn’t like some of the casting, this was all we had. We brought the best we saw. I’m specifically talking about the supporting cast — there just weren’t a lot of different ways to go for us. I must say again that the two leads were awesome.

Neely: That’s fair and quite complimentary of everyone.  Did you shoot single camera or multi?

Nastaran/Jeffrey: Single.

Neely: There is quite a long tradition in comic writing about the immigrant experience.  Were there other similar works out there (either books, film or television) that helped shape this for you?

Jeffrey: One of the reasons that ABC was interested in bringing us in was that we had worked on ABC shows before, so they knew us and they knew Nastaran was Iranian. Also, we had previously written a spec pilot called “My America” based on Nastaran’s experiences. We had no knowledge of the book at that point; we just felt that the immigrant experience was something that hadn’t really been written about for TV.

Nastaran: You know, to this day, I’m not sure that ABC ever read that spec pilot, but there were many things in “Funny in Farsi” that we used from it. The story of Nancy (the mother) getting a job and Kaz (the father) not being okay with it was from that spec pilot. We used bits and pieces of material from the book but in order to bring it together and form this family we had to bring in other elements. For example, in the book the mother character is almost non-existent. Firoozeh wrote mainly about her father.  So, for the purposes of doing a series, we had to create a strong female character who could go up against this outsized male character week after week. We decided to base her on my Mom. I mean, Nancy works at a fabric store – my Mom came here and got a job at a fabric store. Nancy starts to find her voice and place in America and the same thing happened with my mother. Even though my dad was always the loudest, we all knew my mother was the one with the real power. It was the quiet dignity. So, the husband/wife dynamic came mostly from my parents, but the book had a lot of moments that are in the pilot that I think give the pilot its depth. If anything helped us it was that we had already tried to write this before and we had some personal material to draw on. It was just fortuitous that so many of my past experiences were similar to Firoozeh’s.

Neely: I could really identify with the characters.  My experience as part of a first generation (my mother was Romanian raised in Paris) has informed much of what I’ve done as a parent – trying to make sure that I didn’t make the same mistakes.  You would have thought that growing up in Paris might have shaped my mother’s fashion sense in a positive way, but I’m here to tell you that her choices for me screamed Romanian and not Parisian; although I must admit that she was 30 years ahead of her time when she squeezed my pear shaped little body into black stretch pants. Nastaran, I can only imagine, but your mother’s choices must have been shaped by what she knew from the old country.

Nastaran: Yeah. It’s funny because my mom’s been here for a long, long time now, but essentially she’s still the same person she was when we first moved here. A lot of the things we used in the pilot, the malapropisms, they’re all out of my parents’ mouths. To this day, my sister and I will tell her, “Mom, that’s not how you say it.” And she gets mad at us because we’re always correcting her. I think teenagers are always embarrassed by their parents anyway; but that’s particularly true when you’re from an immigrant family.  You just want to fit in with the “regular” people. I longed to be like my blond friend who had the perfect American family and lived across the street in a nice house that wasn’t cluttered with a mishmash of garage sale stuff. All I ever wanted was that; but no matter what we did, we always stood out. We stood out like a living oil spill.

Neely: To be fair to Jeffrey, every child, including your perfect neighbor across the street, has that  very same feeling about sticking out and being embarrassed by their parents. How about you Jeffrey?

Jeffrey: Listen, if I came from a healthy, functional family, I wouldn’t be doing this for a living. I always envied people who worked in banks. I imagined they must have had much happier families than I did because they didn’t feel the need to go into show business.

Neely: Very well put.  You’ve shared some of the experiences without even changing the names to protect the innocent. Want to share a couple of more experiences growing up that you would eventually have put in the series?

Nastaran: Like the shortening of the family’s names in the pilot; we did it because we didn’t want the American audience to have to learn these really complicated names, but it happened in my family. My sister, for example, her name was Nazila. One day she came home from school and announced that she shortened her name to Nazi. She was five so she totally did not know what a Nazi was; but after a couple of years of going by that name, she announced that she was changing her name again. “What are you talking about?” we asked her.  “Everybody tells me that this is a bad name.” It so happened that Firoozeh’s mother’s name was Nazireh, so it just fit in perfectly with my experience. And in the book, Firoozeh had a whole chapter about shortening names. I believe that’s a common immigrant thing – another way of trying to assimilate. One of the things Firoozeh noted when she read our first draft was that even though we didn’t use the book exclusively, we captured the feeling of her book. She had heard that once you give up your book for adaptation, be prepared to have it raped. But I believe she’s still very happy with what we did because we captured the essence of her work.

Jeffrey: I think that when you’re adapting a book, capturing the essence really is key. The details from the book are important, but just as important is conveying the tone; we really tried to find the heart of those universal immigrant experiences. We actually broke six episodes in case we got on the air and some of those stories were inspired by tidbits from the book. That proved to Nastaran and me that we could take the spirit of the book and move forward with it.

Neely: I’ve had some pretty heated discussions about adaptations but I’ve got to tell you that I still believe that adaptation is a delicate art.

Jeffrey: It’s about being able to read the mind of the book you’re adapting. There’s a great example in the film adaptation of John Irving’s “The World According to Garp.” In the movie there’s a scene that doesn’t exist in the book where a plane flies into a house that Garp and his wife are looking at buying. The plane destroys the house and Garp says, “The chances of another plane hitting this house are astronomical. It’s been pre-disastered. We’re safe here.” It’s not in the book but really captures the book’s mood of hopefulness and disaster being so close together. I feel that when you’re adapting a book it’s not about being a slave to it, it’s about expanding its spirit.

Neely: I think that often times you’re hampered by the original material because you have to find a way to be true to the spirit but at the same time you have to find a new way in and a way out so that you can continue with that 100 episodes.

Jeffrey: Well, you should always build a pilot so it can go 100 episodes. A lot of pilots seem very self-contained, and when you see them, you think: “That’s great. What the hell is episode four?” But in the end, adaptation is about what to leave in and what to leave out. If nobody Iranian had been involved, it probably wouldn’t have been as faithful to the tone. We really had a lot to draw on from Nastaran’s experiences.

Nastaran: In some ways it was hard and in some ways it was easy because if you read the book, it’s a series of short stories. As a TV writer you’re tempted to think that every one of the stories is an episode, but they’re not really. They’re more like scenes or moments that can inspire a whole story. For example, in the book there’s a chapter about the father, who fancies himself an expert bowler because he’s been watching it on TV, going on “Bowling for Dollars.” But he chokes and only ends up winning a dollar. That story always stood out for me because every immigrant I know, whether they’re Iranian or Indian or whatever, comes here and the first thing they think about is going on a game show. My Mom has been sending postcards into “The Price is Right” for over 40 years now. It’s a totally American phenomenon – you can go on a game show and win all this money just by using certain skills, or sometimes no skills. It’s the epitome of what this country symbolizes – Easy money.

Jeffrey: And that’s why there’s a line in the pilot where Kaz, the father, says “I tell you, game shows are the solution to all our problems.” This is a very American thing. We’re in a major recession and lottery ticket sales have never been higher. I hope we took that idea and nailed it – the desire to get rich quick with very little effort.

Nastaran: We read the book, then we went through it and looked for the things that really jumped out at us as memorable. Jeffrey and I thought we might only have the pilot, so we tried to figure out how many of these memorable moments we could fit into the pilot and still keep it a cohesive story. The Bowling for Bucks story was in the book, and a lot of other little things. Also, everything about the uncle was from the book. In the book, the uncle character really stood out because he was the ultimate consumer. And every time we went to a meeting everyone always commented on how funny the uncle character was.

Jeffrey: I’m not really sure we captured that on film as well as we could have, to be quite honest…

Nastaran: …yeah, I think we had a bit of miscasting, not because of the actor who played the part, because he was really good, but because it was really a part that was written for a roly-poly tag along. But we cast this guy who, in reality, is not fat and is pretty good looking. He was very committed, so he put on weight before we started shooting, but I’m not sure his character landed the way it did in the book.

Jeffrey: That was an element in the book that I don’t think we captured successfully.

Neely: In so many ways, I felt you were channeling the late great Jean Shepherd at times.  Not just from “Christmas Story” based on his book In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash, but also “The Great American Fourth of July and other disasters.” The father isn’t an immigrant but it certainly falls into the category of all parents are “alien” in one way or another.

Jeffrey: Well, we think of immigrants as being aliens in this country, but whether we like it or not, they are us and they have been from the start. The country literally was built by immigrants; our most iconic landmarks, our greatest public works. We’re in an ideological civil war right now where everyone seems to be arguing about who’s more American; who’s got America’s best interests at heart; who’s a real patriot. It’s bullshit. I still believe the best things about America are the melting pot ingredients: our differences are a richness we’re not exploiting enough for the greater good. So, one of the things we were hoping to convey if this had gone to series is that the immigrant experience is part of the deep fabric of the country. Immigrants love, love, love this country and they see it with an outsider’s eye. So they see it more clearly. They love it for what it is.

Nastaran: That’s another thing we really really liked about the book: it was neither political nor religious. We wanted to do a show about an immigrant family – specifically a Middle Eastern family — that had nothing to do with religion or politics. That was one of the main reasons we set it in the 70s. Back then, this country was pretty innocent regarding the Middle East. At least that was my experience and I believe it was Firoozeh’s as well.

Neely: I’m not sure I completely agree with what you thought was the view of the Middle East at the time because America was well aware of the Arab-Israeli conflicts -  the 7 days war in 1967, the Yom Kippur War in ’73; the 1973 Arab oil embargo. I would agree we were very “innocent” and naïve about the Shah of Iran since the press always seemed so favorable and he was so pro-American. We were, I must admit, pretty sheltered from the reports of torture and human rights abuses that were such a big part of his regime.

Nastaran: But I really felt when we moved here that people were kind and open. A couple of years ago my sister said something to me that really hit home. She said, “Don’t you wish we could go back to when we first moved here and no one knew where Iran was?” That’s why there’s a line in the pilot where Nancy tries to explain where Iran is and the woman (Candice Smiley) has no idea… we got that all the time. “Is that a new country?” “Where is that?” That was back in the 70s; people weren’t necessarily stupid, they were curious. We wanted to capture a time when people were more embracing; and our characters were embracing the country in return. That was the essence of what we wanted to capture.

Neely: Just an aside – yes, you captured that but, yes, people were stupid and they still are.

Nastaran: (Gasp!)

Jeffrey: Let me be more specific about the way the Americans are portrayed in the show. For too long, Americans didn’t care or even know about other places, other cultures. They don’t really know their geography; they should know where the Middle East is. But in not knowing, they were also very open and welcoming and curious. “Oh really! What’s that about? That’s so interesting! How do you pronounce that? Tell me about your country.” Now they think eating bratwurst at Epcot is a cultural education.

Nastaran: But also, remember the pilot is told from the point of view of a 12-year old. That was my experience; it wouldn’t necessarily have been my experience if I had been 18. I can tell you that what we wanted to do if the show had gone to series and lasted at least four years (yeah, I’m still an immigrant with big grandiose dreams). We wanted to portray what happened after the Iranian revolution and the hostage crisis because that’s when everything changed. Then it was like “You’re Iranian. Go home. You’re a dirty Arab.” I think we could have done that if we’d had four years of an audience getting to know the characters. I agree with you that people are stupid but I also think, and maybe this is just the immigrant in me, that this is still one of the greatest countries in the world. My father, who passed away last year, just loved, loved, loved this country. And even though at one point we moved to Canada because of his job (he was a professor at McGill University), all he would talk about was America, America, America. I get that because now I look at what’s going on in Iran and think “Thank God my parents got me out of there.” Thank God I got to come here and pursue what I want. Who knows where I would be if we’d stayed in Iran.

Jeffrey: You’d be in jail. Or worse.

Neely: I think so too. Elaborating a bit on my gasp-inducing statement, but basically being ignorant is not okay, it can be funny, but it’s still not okay. There was that ignorance from the man on the street because Americans have always been fairly isolationist – but you can bet your bottom dollar that they could find Viet Nam on a map (even if they didn’t know where it was in the early 60s). The attitude has always been, if it doesn’t have anything to do with America, why should we bother learning about it. You may be romanticizing the time period a bit because it wasn’t a lot different than it is now. It was a time of American flag pins and slogans like “America. Love it or leave it.”

Jeffrey: We knew that but again, as Nastaran said, the pilot was told from a 12 year-old’s point of view, which is inherently more innocent. And again, we had a long-term plan for showing how the Americans’ attitudes would’ve changed in the 3rd or 4th seasons and how our family would’ve felt about it. Nastaran and I had a series plan; we never just make or write a pilot without looking down the road. We always go in with “this is how we’re going to do 100 episodes.” But up front, it was important to show how kind and open hearted Americans were; we really wanted to portray that.

Neely: I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance with this one; maybe the next one.

Jeffrey: That’s show business.

Neely: Besides “Funny in Farsi,” what got away from you that still seems to need a finish?

Nastaran: We’ve written a bunch of pilots over the years; pilots that we’ve always felt some kind of connection to. There were a couple of pilots that we’ve written about our relationship that I wish we could revive because there’s such a personal connection. But actually, after doing all of that and doing “Funny in Farsi” which was very personal, I said to Jeffrey “No more trying to do things that we connect to!” Maybe we should do something that we don’t connect to at all and maybe that will work for us. There couldn’t have been anything more personal than “Funny in Farsi.” Except maybe this pilot we wrote a few years ago called “Two Percent Marriage.”

Jeffrey: It was kind of about our marriage but it wasn’t about a writing team because nobody wants to see writers so they were architects. But they were living our life. They are a couple that works together; they’re trying to negotiate the work versus relationship part of that. They have a disabled father, like we did, because Nastaran’s dad was in a wheelchair and they have a special needs child, which we do. We were trying mine the comedy of all that, not the heartbreak of it; just show this couple. We called it “Two Percent Marriage” because I’d say to Nastaran that when the shit’s flying at us from every direction, we have maybe two percent of our marriage left to focus on but I’m going to defend it with my life. So these very personal projects are really viable scripts that are just sitting on a shelf that I still think would be shows people would hopefully find entertaining and relatable. I don’t really know.

Neely: In terms of  Funny in Farsi, who owns the rights to the material?

Nastaran: ABC owns the rights because they renewed the option last November; probably because they had the intention of picking it up to pilot at the time. I believe they own it for another year – maybe until this November or a year after the pilot was completed, not sure. They definitely own this script, though. The author of the book has really encouraged us to write a screenplay based on the book and she wants to do it with us, but we can’t really touch the material until the option expires. And I don’t think ABC is going to give it up earlier.

Neely: That definitely answers my question. It would make a very good Indie but I think it would actually make a better stage play.

Jeffrey: Maybe.

Nastaran: She’s mentioned that, too. But right now we can’t really touch it and certainly we can’t use anything that’s in the script because ABC owns that.

Jeffrey: A lot of people have asked us if we’re going to redevelop it but we’re sort of done with it for now.

Nastaran: It’s so funny but before the pilot was out — and we didn’t have anything to do with this — somebody started a Facebook page of “Funny in Farsi” the TV show. You would not believe the support. Within a month it had over 10,000 fans.

Jeffrey: More than some shows currently on the air.

Nastaran: And we were saying to our representatives that they should let ABC know this; and I think they did. I mean there was already this big built-in audience. The book isn’t just for Iranians. Firoozeh Dumas speaks all over the country and the book is used in many high schools. Anyway, she said when she speaks, it’s not just Iranians who come to see her, it’s all ethnicities. She said everyone always asked her if it was going to be a TV show. And as soon as it was picked up to pilot and a Facebook page was created, it just exploded. Even if you go on the page now, people are just ranting about the fact that the show wasn’t picked up to series and how they wanted to see the finished pilot. Of course we can’t post it, but it had a huge built-in audience and that, in itself, I thought was worth something, but apparently it wasn’t.

Neely: I’m still a great believer of hope springing eternal. Keep that Facebook page alive. I understand why everyone comes to see it because  we are all immigrants, one way or another. There are the so-called 400 whose relatives may have come over on the Mayflower and may not be immigrants the way we now define the word, but they’ve probably married immigrants.

Nastaran: I actually think that you have the table draft script. In the original script, we had this opening that was setting a bigger stage for what we were about to see. It started out with a narrator saying we’re all immigrants; we all came from someone who came from somewhere else. It was a CGI opening where the camera was flying across the country and pointing out all the things that were built by immigrants – and then it finally landed on our family on the beach in Newport Beach. Anyway, we were trying to help ABC Studios cut some costs so we agreed to take that opening page and a half out. But the night before we were about to deliver a cut to the network, they called us up and said we had to do something at the beginning. They felt that the show started too abruptly with the family on the beach and that the audience wouldn’t know why we’re telling this family’s story. And they weren’t wrong to be missing it because it used to be there. So, we scrambled with our awesome post-production team and in one nigh we put together a bunch of stock footage using some of the same narration from the original script. We had that in the pilot we delivered, but it was very rough – just a placeholder. We would have redone it if it had gone to series.

Neely: Any other notes?

Jeffrey: We did have notes that helped us clarify, but thankfully we didn’t have to go through a painful development process with this script. We pretty much just wrote what we sold. And look how that turned out.

Neely: Do you want to say anything complimentary about any development executives at ABC that helped shepherd this even though it didn’t go anywhere?

Jeffrey: Absolutely. Samie Falvey championed this project from the beginning. She didn’t let go of it; she was behind it all the way. I think she really saw what it could do for ABC, that it was an unlikely but relatable family show. She saw the possibilities for a greater audience, and I have to say that Steve McPherson rolled the dice on the making of a very very unlikely pilot.

Nastaran: Actually, everyone at ABC and ABC Studios seemed to have very warm feelings toward this project, but I think if anyone deserves credit for sticking with it from the beginning, it’s Samie.  Maybe she’ll never buy anything from us again, maybe she will, but when it came down to this project, she got it, she championed it and she loved it; she loved it as much as we did. She also comes from an immigrant family and I think there was something that she saw in the book that resonated for her. I think that’s one of the reasons she thought it had a universal appeal beyond just Iranians.

Jeffrey: And honestly, our manager Aaron Kaplan and our agent Cori Wellins were devoted to it; this was a passion project for them. This wasn’t just a “we’ve got to get Jeffrey and Nastaran some money from whatever gig.” Aaron Kaplan called me with Cori after the first time ABC killed it. (We were actually in preproduction once before when we lost Barry Sonnenfeld to a prior obligation to Sony and Steve McPherson said “let’s put it on hold.”) Anyway, Aaron and Cori called us up and said “I’m telling you guys you’re going to, at the very least, get this pilot made.” And they had a lot of passion for it; it really wasn’t just another script…

Nastaran: …because they’d represented us before on other things and it’s not that they didn’t like them or weren’t supportive, but when the projects didn’t go, they knew how to move on. If something got passed on they would say “okay, that didn’t go, how about this?” With this, they were like a couple of dogs with bones (I mean that in the most complimentary way). They were really passionate and hooked into the material and just kept saying to us “we’re going to make this happen.”

Jeffrey: That this pilot even got made at all is really something. It had a lot of angels on its shoulders and it would never have been produced if there hadn’t been so many people who believed in it and what kind of show it could introduce to the networks. Believe me, Nastaran and I weren’t the only part of this equation. Of course, it didn’t go the distance, but it’s not for lack of effort on many people’s parts.

Neely: I did mention in the blog I write for Studio System (where I don’t have to be nice) that as far as I was concerned, ABC left the two best half hours on the table.

Nastaran: Are you talking about “It Takes a Village?”

Neely: Yeah.

Nastaran: That’s the only other pilot I read that I thought was good.

Jeffrey: We were really rooting for that one. We even met on it.

Neely: Something I was discussing with my husband last night was that ABC had this wonderful opportunity to be branded as the Family Comedy Network. They already have “Modern Family” and “The Middle” from last year; they then had these two fabulous new family comedies in “Funny in Farsi” and “It Takes a Village.” But instead they went the same route that everyone else did by going in the Rom-Com direction with singles relationship “comedy,” most of which were at varying stages of awful.

Nastaran: I read all of them – not just ABC’s — and I couldn’t tell the difference between the characters.

Neely: Well there wasn’t any. That’s what astonished me. Maybe some of them will have improved in the shooting or with a special cast, but I’m not very optimistic. It can happen.  I remember three pilot scripts from a few years ago and liked two of them and really hated the third. Once they were shot, the two that I liked were totally botched and the one that I hated turned out very well, almost watchable; it made it two seasons.

Jeffrey: Casting can be everything. You really don’t know what you have until you’re finished shooting.

Nastaran: You might also watch “Funny in Farsi” and think this is not at all what I thought it would be.

Jeffrey: You might watch the pilot and think it wasn’t any good.

Nastaran: Again, I think when we look at it a year from now we might be able to see what went wrong.

Neely: Keep in mind that maybe nothing went wrong.

Jeffrey: Like William Goldman says, “Nobody knows anything.” That includes us.

Neely: I wanted a different ending for “Funny in Farsi;” one where we continue to follow the adventures of the Jazayeri family. I like to feel, at least in my dreams, that it’s still not dead.

Nastaran: I was actually hoping for the same thing the first time the pilot was put on hold. but when it got picked up the second time, was shot, and didn’t go to series, I realized that I had to let it go.

Jeffrey: I appreciate the fact that you appreciate it.

Neely: I still have so many more questions for the two of you. Let’s extend this conversation and continue it next week.  Until then, thanks for spending the time.

July 14, 2010

“Go West young man, and grow up with the country.” – Horace Greeley

“Come West with Me” by Craig Bolotin

Based on the play “Abundance” by Beth Henley

What: Bess Stanford has lived a privileged life in the Boston of the late 1860s, but something is missing (as it was from the lives of most women of that era) – independence, free thought, self respect, freedom and adventure – and marrying the wealthy Mr. Farrington will not fill those gaps.

Who: Bess, her head filled with Emerson and Byron, her vision filled with pictures of mountains and Indians, her heart filled with dime store Western romance novels, and her hand grasping the personal ad of William Conklin Curtis of Burnt Forks, Wyoming Territory seeking a wife willing to “live a hard but prosperous life” and who must “have little fear of locust, inclement weather or the red man,” escapes out the window of her cloistered environment to the train station and a soon-to-be westward bound train leading her to a life with unlimited prospects and much hope. On this same train is another young woman, Emma, of considerably less means and circumstance who is also bound for Wyoming, having been convinced by her mother that a mail order marriage is her last hope and prospect given her advanced age, 25, and her beauty that can best be described as “handsome.” Emma, the “helpless” woman-type that Bess detests, gravitates toward Bess, wanting to share the romantic letters written by her prospective husband; Bess prefers the company of her photography books. They are not the only “mail-order” brides on the train.

Bride One: …You think they’re gonna want to have intimate relations right away?

Bride Two: I hope so. I’m not going all the way to Omaha to keep my virtue. I was doing that just fine in Cincinnati.

Bride Three: All I care about is that he’s got teeth. If he doesn’t have any teeth I’ll perish right then and there.

The girls wince at the thought of a toothless husband.

Bride Two: What about you, miss?

Bess: Me? I’d like to shoot a buffalo.

Bride Two: …Shoot a buffalo?

Bess: Yes, and photograph the Indians.

Laughter.

Bride One (mockingly) What are you going to do if one captures you?

Bess: Maybe I’ll marry him.

That quiets them.

Bride Three: Aren’t you concerned about your fiancé?

Bess: Yes, yes I am… My hope is that he’ll treat me as his equal, not as a maid or mother hen.

The girls are dumbfounded by her response. Bess leans closer.

Bess: Don’t you see? In fifty years people won’t only be writing about who we married or how many children we had, but what we thought and what we accomplished. (licks her rolling paper) This is the last frontier, ladies, and we are the chosen few. (holds out her cigarette) Cigarette anyone?

This, in short, is the proverbial modern woman and Emma has met neither its male nor female counterpart before. It is perplexing and somewhat frightening to her. Nevertheless, on the long voyage to the Wyoming Territory, they bond; a bond that becomes forged stronger upon the arrival at their destination where Bess discovers that her prospective mate, Will, is crushingly ordinary and Emma discovers that not only has her fiancé died, but that Jack, his feckless brother, has deceptively taken his place and is a womanizing scoundrel of limited opportunities.

Each woman endeavors to do her best, but Bess craves the spontaneity and sensuality present in Emma’s marriage and Emma craves the stability of Bess’s relationship. Tragedy strikes when, shortly after giving birth to Lizbeth, a beautiful baby girl, Emma is abducted by Indians.  Leaving Lizbeth in the care of Will and Bess, Jack begins a search for Emma throughout the Indian territory, sadly coming to the conclusion that she has been killed when her precious locket, a gift from Bess, is found in the rubble of an Indian village burned to the ground by the U.S. cavalry. Eventually returning, Bess leaves Will to help raise Lizbeth, discovering in Jack the adventurous soul she had always been seeking. Life blossoms for Bess as she discovers photography, and with Jack as her willing Sherpa they climb mountains for the perfect shot. Bess has finally gained all that she was seeking – love, independence, equality, and art. Except… the day arrives that all is upended when the Army informs them that Emma is not dead but has been rescued “against her will” from her Indian husband. Emaciated, tattooed, and almost unrecognizable she is brought home and nurtured by a conflicted Bess and Jack. Ridiculed by the townsfolk, alienated from her own daughter, and coming to a growing awareness of the true relationship between Bess and Jack, Emma rides back to her Indian family, pursued by Bess. Eventually finding Emma, Bess is unsuccessful in convincing her to return to Lizbeth, discovering that Emma has another child by her Indian husband.

Tragic circumstance intervenes in the form of the murderous U.S. Cavalry, determined to eradicate Emma’s tribe. In the process they kill Jack, shooting him when he tries to intervene, and Emma’s Indian husband as he tries to lead his family to their one hope of escape over a cliff into the roiling waters below. He is killed in the attempt at which point Emma, baby Adam in her arms, jumps into the dangerous waters below. Bess, abandoning reason, jumps after her and is able to save the child but loses sight of Emma.  Bess, now with a baby to care for, returns home to discover Lizbeth missing. Alone now, she will lead the nomadic existence of a freelance photographer, often working at traveling carnivals.

INT. Bess’s photography studio – night

A painted canvas backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. Circles are cut for the faces of the two Cowboys “chasing” two Indians on ponies.

The sign above reads: WILD WEST TINTYPES FIFTY CENTS THREE FOR A DOLLAR.

The room falls off into darkness where the box camera rests. Bess is framing a print with Adam, her back to the back-drop.

Bess: …When you get older, I’ll take you to shoot some real Buffalo… If there are any left.

Adam: Promise.

From off screen we hear a young girl’s voice.

Young Girl (O.S): One photograph, pleeease.

Man (O.S.): Your mother will be furious if we’re late.

Young Girl (O.S.): We won’t be. Swear it.

Bess: (without turning around) Welcome to the Wild West. Poke your heads through those holes and I’ll be right with you.

And just like that, fate rears its head, for the young girl is Lizabeth, traveling the circuit with her mother who now supports them lecturing audiences about her trials as an abducted squaw – embellishing, lying, doing whatever the audience desires in order to make her way in the world with her daughter.

No Meaner Place: In “Come West with Me,” loosely adapted from a play by Beth Henley entitled “Abundance,” Bolotin has found a center in the story of two women, each with entirely different aspirations, discovering what is necessary to survive on their own, something very different than that described in dime novels and formal education.  The weaker becomes the stronger and the ordinary is thrust into a life extraordinary.  The originally desired independence, equality, freedom and self respect have come at a mighty price. As in most things in life, be careful what you wish for, it may come true – even for those who don’t wish it.

Characters of enormous depth and growth blossom on the pages of this screenplay and it can only be because of timing or misfortune that this beautiful script was not made into a film.  We are all the worse for not being invited into the visual, spiritual and poetic world described within these pages.

Life Lessons for Writers: Quoth Lord Byron:I have always believed that all things depended upon Fortune, and nothing upon ourselves. Nothing truer was ever said about film development.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: I understand that this has been in development at various companies over the years and has come close to the precipice of production several times. More’s the pity for the public that it hasn’t reached the screen because it is lyrical in both word and vision.

Craig: It had very little development. I wrote it on spec and sold it. I was fortunate because I was always attached as the director and, for the most part, at the same studio for many years. Although the producers changed, the script didn’t change significantly. A lot of it had to do with me being attached as the director. Still, I was very lucky. Probably 95% of what you read was in the original script.

Neely: That’s really unusual.

Craig: It never happened again!

Neely: When we first talked, I sensed a conflict in your feelings for this piece because it was an adaptation, although a very loose one.  How loose an adaptation is it?

Craig: The only reason I was cautious about talking about this was because I believe, whether it be a novelist or a playwright, that the underlying material makes such a large contribution even if you’re using, like in this particular case, only two or three scenes and a half dozen lines of dialogue. Someone else came up with the idea of doing two women from opposite ends of the social spectrum who go out West and end up meeting two men who they don’t know. And they have this emotional and physical journey over many years where they finally end up together, although it ends differently than in the play. As a writer and a director, I think it’s important to give credit to the writer of the source material. I feel the same with original screenplays that are rewritten by someone else. It always drives me crazy to see that the name of the original writer is often left off the screenplay in favor of the person rewriting it. And it’s done all the time by major writers and writer/directors.

Neely: I hear what you’re saying, and not taking anything away from Beth Henley who came up with the original idea, but I always remember what was said by a gentleman that I met at a restaurant once when I made a disparaging remark about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music. I enjoyed it but it was terribly derivative. And he looked up at me and said, “Honey, all music is derivative. Way back in history, there were a couple of original tunes and they’ve already been done (over and over).” So it’s really about how artistically and how well you work with that underlying material that matters; not, necessarily whether you came up with that underlying material.

Craig: I disagree with that, but let’s move on.

Neely: Well we’ll agree to somewhat disagree on that. I strongly believe that adaptation is, in itself, an art form and a very delicate one.

Craig: Well what do you think is harder to write: “Chinatown” from scratch or an adaptation of L.A. Confidential?” I would say “Chinatown” because he had to come up with the world and the characters; and the guy doing “L.A. Confidential” had a 400 page novel to pick and choose from. They’re both, however, great screenplays.

Neely: But I’m not talking about which is more difficult and I’m not comparing the two. What I am saying is that adaptation is an art form in itself. To some extent, the adaptor is hampered because that world was already created; he or she is further hampered because of a preconceived audience expectation when they already know the underlying material.

Craig: I would call it craft and not an art form.

Neely: I just fundamentally disagree with you.

Craig: Have you ever written an original screenplay?

Neely: No.

Craig: Have you ever done an adaptation?

Neely: Nope.

Craig: Okay.

Neely: But I have seen very good examples of both. I’m not saying that one is better than the other. I’m saying…

Craig: One is much more difficult to write. Creating something from a blank page is a lot harder than being “hampered” by a three hundred page novel full of potential scenes, characters and a plot – no matter how flawed.

Neely: Let’s get back to “Come West with Me.” How did you find the play and what inspired you to use this particular piece of material as your underlying thesis.

Craig: I saw the play and I’m a friend of Beth Henley’s. I thought that the kernel of the story was great and was showing us a world I had never seen portrayed accurately: women in the West, without guns a la Annie Oakley, or as prostitutes, saloon keepers, or mere appendages to their rancher husbands. I then started to read journals written by women. What a struggle it was for these women, these pioneers. They were living in sod huts with snakes dropping out of them; it would be 20 below zero, they had five kids, no medicine, no heat of course, no light other than candles; they would be grandmothers in their early forties and they’d often be dead by fifty.

The more I read these journals, the more interesting it became. One set of journals was called “Captivity Narratives” written by women who were captured by Native Americans and who, after returning, made money lecturing in the East about their abductions. This was something else I had never heard of. I wanted to tell the story of what it was honestly like for these women based on Beth’s play, her research and mine. Mail order brides, circa 1870, would answer an ad, get on a train, and be stuck with a total stranger in a sod hut in the middle of nowhere a week later. Amazing when you think about it. It does, I hope, also compare and contrast the idea of an arranged marriage versus romantic love. The latter, by the way, came very late in Western history.

Neely: One of the things I really appreciated was that you put women at the forefront of this. Women had been always been featured in the more realistic or grittier Western films. There was always a woman behind the man, whether it’s “Ole Yeller” or “Shane,” who is living a hardscrabble existence. There are lots of movies from the 30’s and 40’s that go a bit beyond the “good wife” in John Ford films. It’s a slight film but I’ve always liked “Rachel and the Stranger,” where Robert Mitchum comes and upsets the delicate balance between a cold widower and his new “mail order” bride (in the sense that he bought her as an indentured servant) who was expected to do manual labor as well as take care of home, hearth and his children – it may not have been great art, but it was a good story.

Craig: Even in “Shane,” which is a wonderful film, Jean Arthur lives in a beautiful ranch house with her water well right outside her front door. Her clothes were sparkling clean, they weren’t full of moth holes, etc. This isn’t the way it was.

Many of the pioneering women of the West were living in sod huts, where snakes lived as overhead roommates; they froze in the winter, broiled in the summer. The men would often leave for weeks to go hunting. The women suffered from depression. There was one story about a woman who went up on the roof to patch a hole and ended up freezing to death. It was a much harder life than portrayed in most films and novels; definitely worse than living at Fort Apache, or wherever Ford had his women living. But that’s not what Ford was interested in – it certainly wasn’t the woman’s pioneering spirit.

Neely: I agree. For the most part, women played a very subsidiary role in John Ford movies, which was unfortunate (because I really like John Ford movies). But “Come West with Me” is a much deeper, much more interesting, and to a certain extent, a much more realistic view of what a woman’s life was like. I especially liked that your main character, or at least the woman who started out to be your main character, Bess, fell into the classic trap of “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” Reading the Horace Greeley-type books and actually believing the press that she was reading. I loved the different approach, the different reasons why both women were heading West; it adds so much depth to the story, especially considering how it all turns out. I, too, felt the pull of the romantic literature that brought Bess, foolishly, out there. You also captured a very visual effect. This is where adaptation, a very good adaptation for film, comes into play; when you’re dealing with novels or plays, you have to see and feel the material visually. I actually felt the visual influence of photographer Edward Curtis. Who were your literary and visual arts influences in writing this piece?

Craig: I shot a lot of photographs and taught photography many years ago, but I wasn’t looking at Curtis’ photographs. There was a book of photographs I found, most of which were anonymous; photos of and by the women I was writing about. Women were doing a lot of photography in the West. The book, I believe, is called Women of the Old West and is a combination of journals and photos – the real photos of the real pioneers in and outside of their sod houses, working their patch of land. So my influence wasn’t Curtis, but many other photographs and paintings from this period. In England, of course, there was Julia Margaret Cameron in the 1860’s and 70’s.

Neely: Other than Bess’ admiration for her as a professional and independent woman, her photography isn’t really applicable as they were primarily portraits of the famous or staged allegorical and historical scenes.

Craig: Yes, that’s true. I stretched the truth a bit with Bess taking photos of Buffalo herds and Native Americans. But then, recently, I found a website that has a history of women photographers of the West with landscape photos in Yosemite and of the plains filled with Buffalo herds taken by women at this time.

Neely: Clearly you have a lot of literary influences just in writing, in general. Who are your favorite writers and why?

Craig: That’s another tough one because by naming some, I leave someone else out. It’s like your favorite song. I have dozens and dozens

Neely: Then just give me some examples of some authors who do influence you.

Craig: Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina and Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland.  One wrote a book 125 years ago and one two years ago. One is a vast portrait of Russian society; the other, a microscopic look at post 9/11 New York. Apples and Orangutans. Don Quixote, which I reread recently. I’m from Chicago so I like Saul Bellow’s Herzog and Seize the DayBlood Meridian is a great Western novel by Cormac McCarthy. There’s Nabokov’s Lolita. Madame Bovary…  James Agee, Paul Bowles, and Faulkner…

Neely: Take Nabokov, for example. What is it that draws you to Nabokov?

Craig: His pyrotechnical prose, wicked wit, the surgically precise portrait of American society circa 1955; and the funniest unreliable narrator of all times!

Neely: What about Tolstoy. You mentioned Anna Karenina.

Craig: The unforgettable characters. The enormous tapestry he weaves of Russia, the microscopic examination of lives and mores, of the Moscow aristocracy, gentlemen farmers and the peasants. The ruminations of the nature of life, faith, death, love. It’s an enormous, rich and complex novel. And of course, it’s one of the great love stories.

Neely: What are you reading right now?

Craig: Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, and I’m reading a book on the Middle East called The Media Relations Department of Hezbollah Wishes You a Happy Birthday by Neil MacFarquhar. He was the New York Times correspondent in Cairo for 5-10 years. It’s one of the best books I’ve read on the Middle East.

Neely: Just as an aside, I highly recommend a book about the 9/11 terrorists called Perfect Soldiers by Terry McDermott.

Craig: I’ve read it; it’s very good. I did an adaptation of a novel called Terrorist by John Updike, so I spent a lot of time reading everything I could about terrorists/terrorism and the 9/11 terrorists. Perfect Soldiers is on my shelf.

Neely: I know that you have taught classes. Since you are both a writer and a director, I’d like to know what the focus of your course was.

Craig: In the three places I’ve taught, including The Sundance Middle East Screenwriting Lab in Jordan, two were on screenwriting and one was mentoring senior thesis short films. The students were graduate school writer/directors. I helped shape their scripts, come up with a visual plan, a visual arc to the story … all the way through the editing. The other classes were screenwriting classes.

Neely: Any so-called critical studies component to the screenwriting classes?

Craig: No. But the way I taught screenwriting was by comparing and contrasting different films. I would show the first 10 minutes of three different films in order to discuss “openings.” That was my way of teaching – I would show films along with xeroxing chapters here and there from various text books (note: with proper fees paid to the authors of said texts of course). I would look at the beginnings of films to try to determine, or rather let them determine, why, for example, some openings were better than others.

Neely: Can you give me an example of three films you would have used to illustrate that point for the openings?

Craig: I don’t want to say because with films I used, all of the directors are still working.

Neely: Maybe I was making an incorrect assumption, but were they good examples or bad examples? Why don’t you give me an example of what you would have considered a good example.

Craig: What I think is a great opening? “Jules and Jim” has a great opening. And I used it in reference to “Up” because the beginning of “Up” is terrific – that montage at the beginning. That wasn’t really a comparison but it was showing what you could do in live action versus animation and that there’s a precedent for pretty much everything in cinema, even though it’s only 120 years old.

The beginning of “Jules and Jim,” which is 40 years old, does the same kind of montage, but with real people very quickly covering a fairly long period of time, showing the relationships and the friendships –  it’s magical. The first 10 minutes of that film are breathtaking – the way Truffaut skips around in time and condenses the story; and by the end you know these characters so well.

Neely: Well it is a perfect movie.

Craig: I don’t know about that.

Neely: It was a perfect adaptation…

Craig: You’re right, it was an adaptation.

Neely: Great direction, great cinematography, outstanding choice of actors and acting; with the added attraction that the film still holds up today, which cannot be said of every movie that makes it onto somebody’s “Best” list.

Craig: Okay.

Neely: We had an incredibly intense discussion about film, sparked by my defense of “Gone with the Wind” as my favorite film (it’s actually tied with Marcel Carné’s “The Children of Paradise”). But, as favorite does not necessarily equal “best” movie ever made, I still reserve my right to my choice, in terms of favorite. What is your list of “bests?”

Craig: No. I have too many. Again it comes back to “what’s your favorite song?” – do you like the Beatles, or Bob Dylan, or Shostakovich? It’s pretty silly… If you want to talk about genres, or periods of time… I don’t have one film. It would be better to say, “What are the 10 best silent films? What are the best 10 screwball comedies pre WWII; post WWII? What are the best… you get the idea.

Neely: Instead of getting of the hook by saying “I can’t choose a best,” give me several that are iconic to you, for whatever reason.

Craig: (pause) Best neo-realist film – “Paisan;” best Japanese Samurai film, “The Seven Samurai;” best Westerns – “The Wild Bunch,” “Unforgiven,” Sergio Leone films. It’s silly in my opinion to have to choose a favorite film, or a favorite song, or a favorite painting.

Neely: That’s fine; just elaborate a little further. We won’t call this your definitive list.

Craig: … Best romantic comedy made in a foreign country in the 50’s – “Smiles of a Summer Night” by Bergman; best comedy of manners pre WWII – Renoir’s “Rules of the Game.” I mean it’s endless. “Force of Evil” by Abraham Polonsky is a favorite in its genre; “Rio Bravo” by Hawks is a Western I left out… You see, by making a list you’re automatically excluding. Best silent films –  “The Man with a Movie Camera” by Vertov; “Greed” by von Stroheim, “The Great Dictator” by Chaplin, “The General” by Keaton, “Gold Rush” by Chaplin, “The Crowd” by Vidor, “Sunrise” by Murnau. The best screwball comedies of the 30’s and 40’s, “His Girl Friday” (Hawks), “Twentieth Century” (Hawks), “The More the Merrier,” by Stevens, “The Awful Truth” (McCarey), so much by Preston Sturges.

Neely: Sturges only made about 6-8 films as writer/director before he fell apart. So it would be okay to include all of those.

Craig: Brahms wrote only four symphonies, but we still listen to all of them. We still watch most of Sturges. It’s quality, not quantity.

Neely: I’m not sure there have been too many people who have written and directed as well as Preston Sturges.

Craig: …Comedies: There’s also Lubitsch, McCarey, Cukor, Hawks, Wilder….

Neely: In terms of Sturges, it’s very much the same thing as Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. It’s not to say that one is better than the other; one clearly learned from the other, just as Sturges learned from Lubitsch.

Craig: I think that analogy applies more to Billy Wilder and not to Preston Sturges. I don’t think Preston Sturges was influenced by Lubitsch at all; he never talked about it. Billy Wilder, however, was influenced. I read somewhere that whenever Wilder was writing or directing a comedy scene, he would say, “How would Lubitsch do it?”

There is a great autobiography by Preston Sturges, one of my favorites because of the title. Do you know what it’s called? It’s called Between Flops. It’s really fun and very self-deprecating. That’s how he saw his career.

Neely: You’re right, I was confusing Sturges with Wilder, another of my all time favorites and someone who was almost without peer – given that English was his third language (after German and French). He captured the nuance of English and American culture perfectly.

Craig: Woody Allen is up there too. He had a great run of films, no matter what you think of the last 10 years, he still made “Annie Hall” and “Manhattan.”

Neely: I’m of the ilk that stops after “Annie Hall,” possibly after “Manhattan.”

Craig: You have many more restrictions – or should I say you’re more critical than I am. I think “Crimes and Misdemeanors” is a brilliant film and it was made long after “Manhattan.” “Hannah and her Sisters,” and many more. This exposes the problem of “best films,” once again. I think the most important film, the most important song, and your favorite book is impossible to categorize – I mean is your favorite book Gilgamesh, The Iliad, or Atonement?  You have to narrow it down. And I think film, because it has a short history, seems more amenable to categorization. But look, there’s Iranian cinema and Hungarian cinema and so on. We’re predisposed to films from our own culture, for starters.

Neely: You can only judge what you’ve seen, not what you haven’t seen, or read for that matter.

Craig: Even though I mentioned some books and some of those films, once again, I don’t like the idea of making lists. I think the whole idea of the “100 Best” is dangerous.

Neely: I think it is very clear how you feel about “best” lists. But I also remember a good friend many years ago remarking, “If you don’t have an opinion, you might as well be a carrot.”

Craig: I know I’ve probably just blown off great filmmakers and great writers because I didn’t sit here and try to narrow it down. What Paul Schrader wrote for Film Comment is the seminal article on the subject. He spent a lot of time ruminating about it, and he made a list that’s largely made up of what’s important in the history of cinema as opposed to what he personally likes. “Citizen Kane” is an obvious example but that doesn’t mean you can go watch “Citizen Kane” five times a week.

Neely: Actually I can’t watch “Citizen Kane” anymore.

Craig: My point is that all cinema after “Citizen Kane” was a reaction to it, so you have to reference that film because it changed filmmaking. So that obviously is why it’s on the list. There are so many great films and so many great contemporary filmmakers that I haven’t even mentioned.

Neely: What I found interesting about this article by Paul Schrader in Film Comment magazine (http://paulschrader.org/articles/pdf/2006-FilmComment_Schrader.pdf), is that even though he talks about “canon,” the “canon of film,” and what the criteria are for setting up a “canon,” in the end it’s still not thoroughly defined and it’s still just his opinion on what he considers to be the films that fulfill his “canon.”

Craig: I disagree. But of course, there’s always a subjective element; you can’t escape that. He’s following in the footsteps of Harold Bloom who came up with the canon for literature. I spoke recently to a Princeton literature professor, and she argued there is no canon. Evidently, this is a common point of view now in academia. The idea of a canon is passé.

Neely: The only difficulty that I saw with this particular article, because he is entitled to what he considers the films that fulfill his criteria for his canon, is that he didn’t elaborate enough on what his criteria were other than to say that the bar was very high.

Craig: I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. Schrader briefly traced the history of aesthetic theory in this article. His point was that there has to be something more than the personal “I liked it,” or “that made me feel good.”

Neely: I definitely agree with that. Basically, what I thought he was saying was that there has to be something you can’t live without and that’s how you reach that bar.

Craig: Why don’t we go on because you’ve put a link to the article and people can read it and decide for themselves. It’s a good article – great food for thought. There is an aesthetic and he is trying to come up with five things. I can’t recall them all, but some of them were:  originality, beauty, symmetry… although you may not agree with his definitions. He also specifically talks about films that are not personal to him but are important to cinema. Everybody knows that films like “8½” and other similar films are sine qua non for most people. Again, you might not enjoy them but it doesn’t mean that they don’t belong. Then again you should also take a look at the lists created by the Cahiers du Cinema, as well as the “100” lists of the British Film Society and Sight and Sound.

Neely: Yes, everybody has a “100” list.

Craig: It comes down to whose list you’re looking at and that’s culturally determined, and so on. The AFI list is the least interesting because it’s only American films.

Neely: With the exception of “Lawrence of Arabia.”

Craig: How did they put that on there? Was it made by an American company? It’s an English director.

Neely: It’s an English director (David Lean) with interiors filmed in England with an English cast and a storied English writer (Robert Bolt); but with an American producer.

Craig: Sam Spiegel. That’s another great book to read, by the way, about film producing/making.

Neely: Yes, the great S.P. Eagle.

Craig: Spiegel is a wonderful character. It’s a very funny book by Natalia Fraser-Cavassoni (the title would take up a whole page of text). He was the Harvey Weinstein of his day; bigger than life.

Neely: Nick Murray’s documentary on the making of “The African Queen” goes into the history of Sam Spiegel.

Craig: Is it good?

Neely: Very good; very very good. It’s called “Embracing Chaos” and, unfortunately, in Paramount’s wisdom they chose not to release it and just put it as an “extra” on the finally released DVD of the beautiful restoration of “The African Queen.” It’s a wonderful documentary.

Craig: “Embracing Chaos” is a great title. That’s the best title ever – or at least tied with Preston Sturges’ autobiography.

Neely: We’ve covered so much. One thing I’d like to get to is the attitude toward film as an art form, primarily credited to the founding writers of “Les Cahiers du Cinema,” Jacques Rivette, François Truffaut, and Eric Rohmer. These guys were all writer/directors, auteurs in the purest sense of the word. But they should also be “credited” with weakening the writer’s influence in film by declaring Hitchcock, Hawks, Lang and Ford as true auteurs. Although Lang did write the scripts for his German films, like the others, he was a director only, once he emigrated to the U.S. It was a peculiar stance for Truffaut to take in that he and his other “New Wave” counterparts were writer/directors. I view their auteur theory as the disintegration of the power/position of the writer in film.

Craig: I don’t, because I think the writer had even less power in film before the demise of the studio system. Back then, writers would be chained to their desks in the “Writers’ Building” and there would be five guys working on a script at the same time. You used to have gag writers, and writers to come in to only work on the love story, etc. Sure, it still happens today, but it was worse back then, And also, most of the folks who rewrote never received credit – except maybe Ben Hecht; and by the way, all the writers, with a few exceptions, were men.

Regarding the “auteur theory,” I think it’s often misunderstood today. What Truffaut was talking about was either a theme or a visual style that could be attributed to one director over a variety of films. For instance with a Hitchcock film, you know it’s a Hitchcock film in the first five minutes; and not just because of the subject matter. That’s all the Cahiers du Cinema folks meant; it’s common sense. Or think of a Howard Hawks movie – he’d do a Western and then he’d do a gangster movie, whatever; but there’s a certain theme about men and brotherhood, etc. Pauline Kael and Andrew Sarris argued about this endlessly. I believe it was Andrew Sarris who actually coined the expression “auteur theory” – the filmmaker as the writer of his movie. There are obvious auteurs today. For instance the Coen Brothers; they write, direct, and even edit their films. Ingmar Bergman wrote his films, and of course, directed them. That’s the purest form, but, as I said, the Cahiers du Cinema version was misinterpreted. Sometimes the producer is the strongest person. Even Selznick put his stamp on a Hitchcock film (“Rebecca”).

I think what is more relevant today is the director’s possessory credit, which as a director and a writer I feel is ridiculous. A director may come on eight weeks before the shoot and he gets “a film by” credit! The possessory credit will never be overturned, but it should be. Film is a collaborative medium, not owned by one person (the director), with the exception of a handful of working filmmakers. But back to your question, as little respect as they get, I think writers are more respected today. When I first came here there were no screenwriting magazines. Now there are several, and they interview writers when a film comes out. This is all relatively recent. And television… I think we’re in a golden age – and writers are the Queens and Kings.

Neely: Switching back a bit, because this relates to the fate of “Come West with Me,” is there hope for the independent film or has the tentpole killed it?

Craig: I think what’s sad, more than the tentpole, is the lack of independent studios; the demise of distribution for independent films – the Miramaxes, the Warner Independents, the New Lines.

There are still people who are willing to invest in movies and independent movies still get made, but it’s harder and harder to get them distributed. That’s what’s scary. I’m not sure if I answered the question, but that to me is the bigger issue. The good news is that you can now make a film – shoot it high def on a camera that costs $3,000 and edit it on your computer. It’s wonderful. But often you can’t find anyone to distribute it. Recently, there have been several films made with substantial actors and actresses with significant budgets, 25-30 million dollars that are sitting on the shelf. Advertising costs are so high that the studios/distributors don’t want to risk it. And now they’re not even going to DVD. They just don’t get released anywhere. Sundance had 2,000 plus films submitted; some of those films were made for several hundred thousand dollars and others for several millions. But of those 2,000 films, 25 dramatic films got picked up for the festival – my numbers are probably slightly off, but they’re in the ballpark – and of those, something like six or eight narrative films get distributed. Eliminate the films that were made for two hundred thousand dollars, and there are still probably 1000 films costing several million dollars that never got distributed – that’s what’s worrisome. I think the tent-pole phenomenon has just made it harder for smaller films to find screens. Somebody said, and I don’t know if it’s accurate, that 5% of the movies are on 95% of the screens. So I guess the answer to your question is, I don’t think it’s ruined it because people will still continue to make great independent films and great studio films, by the way; it’s just that it’s going to be musical chairs to get your film distributed. Every year it seems like there are fewer chairs; and if you get one you can only sit in it for two weeks!

Neely: If you were still teaching, what would you say to your students to try to guide them through the quick sand of getting a passion project off the ground?

Craig: If you’re a writer/director, write something that can be made for very little money. Write something fresh and original that is your voice; and most importantly, a film that you want to see. Not what you think someone else would want to see. “The Squid and the Whale” is a great example. I think Baumbach made that movie for $1.8M or $2M. It was a very smart way of thinking about a first film. (Of course it still took him years to get it off the ground.) You definitely have to think about the budget. If you’re a screenwriter, the adage that you should write a movie you want to see, as opposed to writing what you think someone else wants to see, still holds.  When Tarantino wrote, he wrote the kind of movies, genre movies, he wanted to see. He just wanted to do it differently; but I’m sure that when “Reservoir Dogs” was going around he had a hard time. It’s a heist film but you don’t see the bank robbery. He wrote about the before and the after, but not the robbery itself.

Neely: What about new projects for Craig Bolotin? What are they or what might they be?

Craig: I just finished adapting a novel called Eight Months on Ghazzah Street by Hilary Mantel and I’m writing a spec script called “Cease Fire;”

Neely: I know you have somewhere you have to be so let me let you go, and thanks so much for your time and passion about movies. I so loved “Come West with Me.”

Please check out my latest blog on Studio System entitled “Wonderful TV Pilots Not Picked-up this Season”  (http://www.baselineintel.com/research-wrap?detail/C8/wonderful_tv_pilots_not_picked_up_this_season)

June 30, 2010

“Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, and a comedy in long shot.” – Charles Chaplin

“The Deal” by Peter Lefcourt

What: Charlie Berns, has-been B-level (at best) producer, finds new energy when he options his neophyte nephew’s script on Benjamin Disraeli, Victoria Regina’s favorite Prime Minister, fully intending to refashion it into a script for African American Martial Arts Action Star Bobby Mason who wants to do something “Jewish.”

Who: Charlie Berns, washed up and broke, has decided that suicide is the only way out, so he is making the final preparations – sealing the kitchen windows, attaching 75’ of garden hose to the exhaust pipe of his Mercedes and threading it through the doggie door. So it was either his extreme focus or the volume of Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” that prevented him from hearing the doorbell. His sister’s son Lionel has arrived on his doorstep, having taken Charlie up on one of those random “come visit anytime” invitations. Even his suicide was a failure.

Lionel, script in hand, wide eyed and innocent to the ways of the world, especially that world called Hollywood, is intent on having Charlie read the script and introduce him to someone who would produce it. The script, entitled “Bill and Ben,” is about the relationship between Benjamin Disraeli and William Gladstone, his rival in 19th Century Victorian England, or, as Lionel explained it,

“They were kind of like Jules and Jim. I was thinking about Tom Cruise as Disraeli.”

But Charlie has other ideas. Having recently read that Bobby Mason, an African American marital arts performer and top box office draw, was converting to Judaism and was on the look out for scripts about Jews, Charlie pitches the project to Bobby’s spiritual advisor, Rabbi Seth Gutterman, who becomes interested in anything Charlie has to say, provided there’s a producer credit attached for him. Suddenly, for the first time in years, Charlie has a potential project, despite the disdain that acerbic D-girl (director of development) Deirdre Hearn expresses about the project, the producer, and the star’s commitment to Judaism. As she explains,

“This Jewish stuff’ll blow over. He was going to become a Black Muslim after Kareem converted. He did the whole number, changed his name, wore a dashiki, and then he started going out with Miss Finland. Five foot ten, blond from head to toe and Lutheran. Bye-bye Muslims.”

What Charlie needs now is a rewrite, which he needs to explain to his clueless nephew.

“If they buy the script, why wouldn’t they make the movie?”

At the moment Charlie didn’t want to confuse his nephew with too much insight into the abstruse practices of the movie business. He tried to keep it as simple as he could.

“You see, Lionel,” he explained, “this movie’s now what’s called ‘in development,’ which means, basically, that the script has to get rewritten while the studio thinks about whether or not it wants to make the picture.”

“I don’t get it. Why do you have to rewrite it if you like it enough to spend fifty-two thousand bucks to buy it in the first place?”

“Nobody really likes a script unless they’ve had a rewrite or two done on it.”

And rewritten it is, by no less than the biggest alkie has-been in the business, Madison Kearney, whose specialty was action, gore and sex – just the elements needed in a film ostensibly about Benjamin Disraeli and protective tariffs.  In no time at all, “Bill and Ben” has been turned into “Lev Disraeli, Freedom Fighter.” Suddenly Charlie has a Go-project and a bankable star.

And it’s off to Belgrade they go, now with taciturn Polish action director Dinak Hrossovic (whose expiration date was decades earlier), and his girl friend Wilna (a former “massage therapist” who always travels with a feather, rubber gloves and handcuffs) in tow. As it turns out, the studio has millions of dollars locked up in the former Yugoslavia that can only be used in Serbia; but this is less of a problem than imagined in that a first rate crew, a brilliant production designer and a politically savvy production manager are all available to him. And, as was pointed out at the studio, Israeli locations are easy to cheat since most of Israel just looks like San Bernardino.

Working like a renegade, incommunicado with the studio, all is going well with “Lev Disraeli” until Bobby is kidnapped by Macedonian separatists, forcing a halt in production when they can no longer shoot around Bobby.  When the studio gets wind of the kidnapping (which is from a CNN broadcast and not from Charlie), they send Deirdre to shut down production and close everything out. But Charlie has other ideas – why not shoot the original film about Disraeli. Industrious beyond belief, he cons two of the world’s leading actors into playing the roles of Disraeli and Queen Victoria; and they are back in business. Sets are remade, new locations found, but just as Charlie is about to abscond with the dinars from the bank, Deirdre arrives.  Somewhat incongruously, given their previous relationship, Deirdre and Charlie sense a connection and, risking all, Deirdre signs on, provided she’s accorded a producer title; whereupon they flee, dinars and all, to their new secret Serbian location to make what is now called “Dizzy and Will,” a film that will win that year’s Academy Award and give much needed prestige to the studio which has just been sold to the Japanese.

No Meaner Place: As alluded to in the previous article about the sequel, Manhattan Beach Project, this was intended to be Lefcourt’s professional suicide. Not needing garden hose and a Mercedes exhaust pipe, Lefcourt’s weapon of choice had been his pen. But instead of a nephew arriving to interrupt the procedure, Random House intervened and a Hollywood cult classic was born. Whether the original objects of Lefcourt’s scorn ever read the book, we don’t know, but everyone else in town did. And his stalled career was once again on the fast track.

Getting the book made into a movie, and the compromises that eviscerated the concept are, for the most part, beyond the scope of my original intentions. Suffice it to say, that when the minor character of Deirdre becomes a focus as important as Bobby, Charlie, and Lionel, then an entirely new work took shape, for good or ill.

Life Lessons for Writers:  Once you have it on the page, it’s up to everyone else to screw it up.

More conversation with the writer:

Neely: What are some of the similarities between you and the Charlie of both books?

Peter: One of the many incongruities of my career was that three years after I had won an Emmy in 1985 for “Cagney and Lacey,” I was completely unemployable. I went from the A List to the Shit list very quickly – mainly because I don’t suffer studio and network executives well. That is a skill you really need in this business. You need to learn how to absorb help, especially when you don’t want any. I’ve gotten a lot better over the years. It’s kind of a judo technique. You learn to absorb the blows with a smile. Anyway, back in the late 80’s, I had antagonized a number of very powerful people, including Les Moonves, unfortunately, whom I once called a dirty name in an elevator. But that’s another story. Anyway, I couldn’t get a job and my agent at the time said he didn’t know what to do because he couldn’t sell me anywhere. You’d think there would have been some shelf life involved in winning an Emmy. So I said to myself, “That’s it! I’m out of here. I’m going to burn my bridges down to the ground. I’m going to write the nastiest, darkest, blackest book I can think of about the film business; and I’m never going to be able to eat lunch in this town again, so this way I’ll never be tempted to come back. I’ll sell the house; I’ll move to New York; I’ll write plays.” So I write The Deal which is, in fact, a nasty, dark, black story about how movies get made, the insane arbitrariness of the process. Random House published it and it has a completely reverse effect. It becomes a cult favorite in Hollywood. Everyone starts passing the book around, especially at the cable channels. Suddenly my phone starts ringing; I’m getting offered work on HBO/Showtime projects. I rode that wave for another 10 years. So there I was, like Charlie Berns, trying to commit (professional) suicide, and it backfired.

It was because of that book that I got “Beggars and Choosers.” Jerry Offsay had just read The Deal when the late Brandon Tartikoff walked into his office in 1997 and said “I want to do a satire on the television business.” And Jerry pulls out this book and says, “This is the guy to write it. He’s written television and he’s very funny.” Interestingly, Brandon and I knew each other from the days when Brandon was the ABC current programming executive in charge of “Eight is Enough,” my first job in this business. Also, I had done a couple of movies for NBC (“Danielle Steel’s Fine Things” – don’t ask) when he was running NBC. But it was the serendipity of that moment when Jerry holds up the book and Brandon says, “Oh! That’s the right guy.” And that’s how “Beggars and Choosers” came to be. So go figure.

Neely: So far, of all your books, it’s The Deal that was made into a film, but it really isn’t the story that I read.

Peter: Bill Macy made that happen. He and Steven Shachter, the director, approached me, saying they wanted to do the adaptation themselves. That was their condition and I said fine. At that point I’d been trying to sell it for 15 years, so I said okay and was willing to let go of it because I wanted to get it made. The story of making the film is very much like the storyline of the novel. Bill Macy was always going to be Charlie Berns, but Lisa Kudrow was going to play Deirdre and it was going to be filmed in Romania, doubling for Yugoslavia. That fell out about 2 months before start of production. Bill had raised the funding, mostly through private equity money in Florida – $8 million dollars. When Lisa Kudrow dropped out, they went back to Meg Ryan, who had originally passed, and they found additional funding in South Africa. The film business is very fungible. They rewrote it for South Africa cheating Israel cheating Victorian England. We went to Sundance with it in 2008. That, unfortunately, was the Sundance where several independent film distributors decided to fold their tents. There was a bunch of really good movies that went straight to DVD that year. Including “The Deal.”

Women in Film have a program called “Page to Screen” where they read a book and then see the movie. They read the book and then watched the movie of The Deal. I went to talk to them about the process. They felt that Macy’s character was a little too sleazy in the movie, that all he wanted to do was get into bed with Meg Ryan’s character.

Neely: I actually felt it was a very poor adaptation because it felt like a kitchen sink translation. There was no focus on what was the most hilarious or the most strident. In other words, it was too important for Charlie to be in everything. One of the biggest highlights that was squandered, due to a lack of focus, was the character played by LL Cool J. That was probably the most ludicrous of the storylines in the novel and was lost due to lack of attention.  How should I put it? This was the snowball that turns into an avalanche that stops midway down the mountain.

Peter: That’s very well put. The reality was that in order to get the money, they had to get Meg Ryan; in order to get Meg Ryan they had to build up the love story. Although the love story is important in the book, it’s not primary. Deirdre disappears for a hundred pages or so in the middle. Instead, Bill and Steve kept that love story in the forefront. And instead of ending the movie, as the book, with Charlie getting up at the Academy Awards saying “It has always been a life long dream of mine to make a movie about Benjamin Disraeli;” now it’s Meg and Bill having a kiss. But that’s the reality of the film business, and as a novelist, you just learn to let go of it.

Neely: Adaptations are, as they say, a horse of a different color. We were in New York last winter and the day before I was to interview Nick Meyer about his pilot script for “nomeanerplace,” we were in a tiny restaurant on the Upper West Side and who should walk in but Philip Roth.  Despite my husband’s pleas to the contrary (he’s always afraid I’ll embarrass him, and this is not without precedent) I went up to Philip Roth and mentioned that I was doing an interview with Nick who had done the film adaptations of two of his more recent novels.  He was very polite and remarked that he had never met Nick. He said that when his books were bought, he just let them go. Adaptation is a different animal.

Peter: Roth’s work is so internal, so hard to adapt. I ran into that problem with The Dreyfus Affair when I was trying to find a way of capturing Randy Dreyfus’s voice. In that book, there is a lot of interior third-person monologue as Randy tries to figure out what is going on with his feelings. That’s hard to do; the voice of the author is elusive in a screenplay.

Neely: On a more personal level, do you have any memories that stand out over the years? Actors who were fun to work with?

Peter: I have my “life is too short list” but that’s better left unstated. On the positive side, there are many actors, directors and producers I loved working with, like Brian Kerwin, who played the lead in “Beggars & Choosers.”

Neely: Did you know I have a connection to Brian?

Peter: I didn’t know that.

Neely: Yeah. I went all through grade school, marching band, high school and catechism with Brian. I knew the whole family and have a special fondness for his older sister Ann who was always kind to me. His father was our family ophthalmologist.  I got my first pair of glasses from him – in cat frames, and this was before cat frames had any cache; I was ridiculed mercilessly. Just another one of the many choices my mother made that sent me further into the abyss of unpopularity (well, that and my sarcastic personality).

Peter: Chicago?

Neely: Flossmoor, it’s a south suburb. I looked up David Mamet’s Wikipedia page once and was astonished to see that he was born in Flossmoor.  He must have escaped early on because it wasn’t a town that gave rise to a lot of high art.

Peter: Do you still keep in touch?

Neely: I’ve lost contact with him.  I saw him in “August, Osage County” and talked to him briefly. Our first reconnection after high school was actually through my youngest brother who was an actor at the time and, in one of those turns of fate, was in a play with Brian at a small theater in LA. Brian made the connection from my brother’s last name (Neely – and no, Neely isn’t really my first name, it’s my maiden name and as I stated in my conversation with Chip Johannessen and stealing a line from Leonard Bernstein’s “Candide,” we’ll go into that another day). It was one of those random questions that starts out like “Where are you from?” “Chicago, well actually a suburb.” “Which suburb?” “You’ve never heard of it.” “Try me.” “Flossmoor.” “You’re kidding. I’m from Flossmoor too. Did you have a sister named…?” “You’ve got to be kidding.”  I love how those things can happen.

Peter: If I ever get The Dreyfus Affair off the ground as a film, he’s going to play the Commissioner of Baseball. I told him that he won’t have to molest a young woman in this one. Poor Brian, between “How I Learned to Drive” and “August Osage County”…

Neely: He told me that one of the highlights of his career was when Meryl Streep went back stage after the opening of “August Osage County” and came up to him and told him he was positively vile. It really is a great play and he was really effectively vile.

Peter: Another person I liked working with was Tyne Daly. She’s a very professional actress, exigent in the best sense of the word. I’d sit with her and we would go over dialogue, down to the prepositions. She would sometimes say, “This is not how Mary Beth would say that.” But she always came from a very respectful point of view. She made that character great. When you do episodic television — and you know this from having worked with David Kelley — you share the character with the actor. I’m sure David did with James Spader and William Shatner. You begin to understand that actors have some ownership in a character they play twenty-two times a season, and that you need to listen to them. Good actors make you look better. When it’s a good collaboration, it’s great. When you start fighting with them, either because of script or performance, that’s when it falls apart. I believe very much in the potentially positive nature of that relationship. I have had a lot of great experiences.

“Beggars and Choosers” was a mostly delightful experience. It was 44 episodes with almost no creative interference from Showtime. The only problems I had with them involved money and nudity. We made the show for very little, shooting in Vancouver, and we were always having to save a dime. And Jerry Offsay kept asking me to add naked people, because we were on cable and we were supposed to show tits. And I kept saying, “Jerry, this is about the television business. No one walks around without their clothes on.” So that was a humorous conflict. “No tits?” and I’d say “Maybe next episode.” But they were great. They lost money on that show because they couldn’t sell it abroad, but they still kept it on for two years.

Neely: No secondary market.

Peter: You can’t make money in television without that secondary market. It was a bit too sophisticated. We did sell it to Poland, Israel, and Ireland; but the major overseas markets didn’t bite so they had to cancel.

Neely: Shows about the inner workings of Hollywood are a very tough sell outside of Hollywood. It oftentimes doesn’t play well in the Midwest, so I can see how it might not play overseas, although I’m very surprised about Great Britain.

Peter: So was I. That was the one market I thought we’d get; but all we got was Ireland. The ratings we had on Showtime were better than most of what Showtime and HBO are getting now on series like “Hung” and “How to Make it in America.” Their ratings are miniscule compared to what we got ten years ago, but that was in 1999-2000. What I am disappointed about is that the DVDs aren’t available. Actually they’re owned by Buena Vista. For very abstruse reasons, Disney owns the DVD rights.

Neely: That makes no sense whatsoever, but very little in this business makes sense.

Peter: What happened was that Showtime had a previous deal with Disney, and one of the “throwaways” was that Disney would get, at no cost to them, the domestic DVD rights to Showtime’s next series, which, as it turned out, was “Beggars and Choosers.” Disney didn’t put a dime into the production, and they wound up with 44 hours of television that not many people saw. You’d think that this would be an ideal DVD release. You have a cult series that hadn’t been widely exposed, with no cost except the minimal cost of production and some marketing expense. We actually did commentary for these DVDs in 2006. Brian and I, Richard Lewis and Terri Hanauer went to the studio and made background commentary, but just when they were ready to release them, the DVD market softened. They’re lying in a vault somewhere in Burbank. I keep talking to them and they keep saying “well, maybe next year,” but they’re not going to put it out. And they won’t give it back to me because the worst thing that can happen to you in Hollywood is not losing money, but someone else making money on something you passed on. That is death.

Neely: Case in point for Disney – “CSI”.

Peter: “ET.” Frank Price, when he was running Columbia, passed on “ET” and never recovered.

Neely: Keep it in a vault rather than have someone else…

Peter: I am disappointed that that work is not available to people. I think it should be. I’m not going to make any money on it – it was cable. But not just for me, but for Brian and Charlotte (Ross), Tuc Watkins, Paul Provenza, and a lot of good directors like the late Michael Ritchie, who did the pilot, Richard Lewis who did 5 episodes and went on to be a producing director on “CSI;” Joanna Kerns directed a few, as did Stuart Margolin, who also was wonderful playing a megamaniacal Showrunner.  We had some amazing people come up to Vancouver for an episode or an arc for virtually no money. They would come out and have fun. Beau Bridges did a 5 episode arc; Jim Belushi did a 9 episode arc as a crazy guy who inherited the network and drove everyone crazy; Carol Kane, Eric Bogosian, Shelly Long, Lolita Davidovitch, to name just a few. Carl Reiner was nominated for an Emmy as a guest star. We even got Ivana Trump to play herself. She brought her own wardrobe

Neely: On a completely unrelated topic, but we share a love for things French and especially Paris. How did that come about for you? Have you worked there? How’s your French?

Peter: My French is relatively fluent, depending on how much wine I’ve drunk. The back story is that I was in the Peace Corps. I went to Togo in the 60s. We were the first group to go there, and French was the national language. I spent two years exclusively speaking French and a West African language called Ewe, so my French has a Togolese accent — at least that’s what my Parisian friends say. After I got back, I spent a year in Quebec, and so I added a Quebequois accent to the mix. And then in 1980, just when my career was taking off, my then wife and I decided to do something very impractical and very wonderful. We went to Paris and plunked down some money, when Paris real estate was very affordable, and bought an apartment in the Marais when no one wanted to live there. For eleven years, from 1980 til 1991, I would go there April, May and June of every year. I have a lot of French friends. My son, Lucien, who was born in 1980 and speaks even better French than I do, is now working for CARE in Chad. He’s a very interesting kid.  So, I’ve always been a Francophile. I go to Paris on behalf of the Writers’ Guild.

One of my big disappointments is that none of my books has been translated into French. Japanese, German, Dutch, but not French, and I’d love to work with a French translator. I got close with The Deal. Presse de la Cité, when Jean Nabokov, Vladimir’s son, was running it, was very interested, but getting American books published there that don’t have very clear storylines, or best-selling authors, is tough. But I’m hopeful that if I can get Le Jet Lag published here, maybe they’ll do that one. That book takes place during The Cannes Film Festival. In the middle of all the plot machinations there’s a series of labor actions – you know how the French go on strike at the drop of a croissant. First the taxi drivers go on strike, and then the hookers go out; and then in support of the hookers, the hotel workers go on strike.  So you have all these film people living in hotels with no service; they have to make their own beds and there are no cabs. It’s a typical French situation.

Neely: That’s so fun (unless you’re in the middle of one) and so true.

Peter: What is your French connection?

Neely: I have French relatives. My mother was raised in France before and during the war. She was actually Romanian but moved there with her parents when she was four years old. I have a lot of second and third cousins who live there. I’m fluent. I just love Paris; I think it’s the most wonderful city in the whole world.

Peter: Did you live there for any extended period of time?

Neely: I have never stayed in Paris for more than two or three weeks. I did do what was supposed to be a year abroad in Strasbourg, although it turned out to be a semester instead. But I just feel an enormous connection to the cultural life and the physical beauty of Paris.

Peter: You could exchange your house with someone in Paris and do your blog from there.

Neely: That would be great if my husband didn’t need to work. He’s got a sabbatical coming up, but I think he’s going to do it in New York.

Peter: He does what?

Neely: He’s at USC; he does brain research. We’ve talked about it, but he doesn’t speak French. Unlike most other countries, even established researchers run into problems because most of the labs just won’t speak English.

Peter: I thought the scientific community wasn’t like that. I have French friends who work with computers whose English is quite good.

Neely: It doesn’t really have anything to do with whether or not they speak English. I’m still going to try to sell it because he too loves Paris more than any other city in the world, even though he can’t speak French.

Peter: You know De Gaulle said: “Personne, meme pas les français, ne parle bien le français” (Nobody, not even the French, speak French well.). I’ll tell you a story that kind of sums up the French character. I was living in Paris in the 60s, a student with no money. There I was, in my twenties, living in a 7 franc hotel room on Rue Monsieur le Prince. I used to go to the Piscine Deligny (a swimming pool where showgirls would hang out during the day) to try to pick up girls. I met this very upper crust French girl – very “seizieme” (90210) – who lived in Neuilly. She invited me to Sunday lunch (an institution in France). So I show up in the sport jacket that I got at the Marché aux Puces (flea market) for like 7 francs and my one pair of black jeans. I get introduced to the family, and I could tell right away that her parents are not very happy that their daughter has taken up with this penniless, poorly dressed American, and a Jew no less, which triggers that pervasive, low grade anti-Semitism that exists among the upper classes in France. So we survive the apéritif (with the foie gras and the mousseline de porc) and then sit down at the table. The conversation is very crisp and strained, like in a Buñuel movie. No one is comfortable and I’m trying to make conversation in my (at the time) atrocious French. Finally they get to the cheese course, and as the guest of honor they offer me the “plateau de fromage” (the cheese platter). So, as a typical uncivilized American, I take my knife and I cut off the end of the brie — a major no-no in France, like farting in church. The father, who up til now hasn’t said one word to me, looks at me and says “Monsieur, que vous baisiez ma fille, ça m’est égal; mais il faut jamais découper le nez du brie!” – “Sir, I don’t care if you are fucking my daughter, but don’t ever cut off the nose of the brie.”

Neely: So, if you had it all to do over again, what, if anything, would you change?

Peter: Well, I wouldn’t call Leslie Moonves a dirty name. It cost me 10 years of my career. He was working at Lorimar at the time and I had written a script that he purported to loved; but when we went to ABC to get notes, and it was apparent they didn’t share his enthusiasm, he bailed on me. Suddenly, he hates the script. On the way to the elevator, after the meeting, I used a term usually reserved for people who sell their bodies for money. When he moved to CBS and wound up running the network, he declared a fatwa against me. That turned out to be a very expensive remark.

Neely: I understand him to be extremely loyal to his friends but also a dangerous enemy to make.

Peter: At the end of the day, I’m delighted that I’ve been able to do this for as long as I have. I’m financially comfortable; I don’t need to work anymore on anything that doesn’t please me. And I’ve done this for 37 years. I’ve never had a day job during that time. Obviously there have been a couple of tough times, but I’m proud of it. I have 37 years in the Writers’ Guild pension plan, which means I’ve made at least the minimum that you’ve had to make for all those years. Not one interruption of service, except during the two strikes, and I think that may be pretty close to a record. I’m proud of my longevity; that I’ve survived in spite of my arrogance. I’ve managed somehow to roll with the punches and enjoy the lifestyle. I’ve gotten to travel quite a bit, to live part of the year in Paris for 10 years. You can’t do with most jobs. And it sure as hell beats working for a living.

Neely: I can’t wait to read more Peter Lefcourt; and, as a matter of fact, I just finished The Dreyfus Affair. Thanks for spending the time.

For more great reading, check out The Dreyfus Affair and The Deal and his other great books. See Peter’s website for information on how to order his books (and get a dose of his humorous asides) at http://www.peterlefcourt.com.

June 23, 2010

“Success took me to her bosom like a maternal boa constrictor.” Noel Coward

“Manhattan Beach Project” by Peter Lefcourt

What: ABC has a secret and secretive division for the development of extreme reality shows hidden away in Manhattan Beach, California. Because of insurance and legal difficulties they have yet to produce a show for broadcast although they did come close with their proposed abduction series entitled “Kidnapped.”

Who: Charlie Berns, former Oscar winning producer, has hit the skids.  He’s car-less, lives in his nephew’s pool house, and, as part of a mandatory debt consolidation program, he must attend Debtor’s Anonymous meetings.  Charlie is totally without prospects, considering suicide yet again, until Kermit Fenster, a putative CIA operative, approaches him at one of the DA meetings and proposes that they collaborate on a reality show concept: “Warlord,” the day-to-day life of a Central Asian warlord – “follow him around, film him with his family, getting tributes from neighboring villages, running guns, taking a cut out of the dope trade, consolidating his power.”  Charlie’s proposal ends up on the desk of Norman Hudris, a desperate development exec at ABCD (ABC Development), a clandestine branch of the development department sequestered far from Burbank in a secret warehouse in Manhattan Beach.

ABCD’s specialty was the ERS, or extreme reality show, a primetime version of extreme sports, in which plausibility and taste were stretched to accommodate the kind of lower-than-the-lowest-common-denominator television that viewers would be unable to resist. Once these shows were developed and produced, they were to be test-aired on closed-circuit cable channels to see how people reacted to them – the TV version of doing medical experiments on mice to see how they would be tolerated by humans. If in the judgment of the ABCD research people, they were hitting their demographic targets, they would be slipped into the network’s prime-time schedule to jump-start the ratings.

The division’s work was still largely in the start-up stage. There was only one program that was remotely ready to be produced, let alone aired. It was a program called Kidnapped, in which an unsuspecting person was filmed being abducted and being kept sequestered at a secret location for twenty-four hours, while the victim’s family would be contacted for ransom demands. With the audience registering their opinions online about whether or not the person was going to be ransomed, the subject would learn just how his friends and family felt about him before being told it was all in good fun, set free for a tearful reunion with his loved ones and given a series of prizes for his or her sportsmanship.

The problem to be resolved with “Kidnapped” was how to avoid the victim’s pressing charges against the producers for abduction. The ABCD lawyers had proposed getting the victim to sign a hold-harmless agreement before getting the prizes, but they were concerned about the ex post facto nature of the agreement and the possibility that grand juries would indict in spite of the agreement. So the program lay in limbo while the lawyers went back and forth on it. Needing something to put on the air immediately to staunch the flow of red ink, ABC goes with “Warlord,” ending up with a sensational hit, but one with inherent dangers, dangers that will eventually knock it off the air, taking everyone with it.

Like all present-day executives whose primary focus is on job security, Norman does recognize the value of Charlie’s proposal, if only because the legal liability would be minimal from a “Stanish” warlord. Cautiously, he fronts the money to begin production on this train wreck with surprising results.

No Meaner Place: Lefcourt, has slyly taken the main character from his previous and equally enjoyable novel, The Deal, and delineated the events that have led him to sponging off Lionel, his nephew:

And it was Lionel’s script based on the life of the nineteenth-century British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli that Charlie had optioned, had a drunken hack named Madison Kearney rewrite into a Middle Eastern action movie called Lev Disraeli: Freedom Fighter, got the studio to invest fifty million dollars in against domestic box office after he managed to get a black action star with a fleeting interest in Zionism to commit to the picture, which started shooting in Belgrade, cheating Tel Aviv, until the action star got kidnapped by Macedonian separatists and Charlie had to shoot the original Disraeli script on a hidden location in Yugoslavia, cheating 1870s London, without the studio’s knowing where they were until it was too late and they realized they had a best-picture candidate in the beautifully produced, talky melodrama that eventually won the big one while Charlie sat in the Shrine Auditorium catatonic in his rented tuxedo barely able to make it to the stage to accept his award in front of a planetwide TV audience.

All that was water under the bridge. Though you would have thought, as Charlie often did, that the Oscar would have at least allowed him to skate for a couple of years, enjoying fat studio housekeeping deals while developing his next picture. But he hadn’t counted on the new lean and mean bottom-line studio management philosophy brought on by vertical integration and balance sheet accountability, his girlfriend getting shocked to death on his front lawn, the NASDAQ’s going south, or the general law of diminishing returns as he passed birthdays that progressively defined him as an endangered species in the youth-sucking ecology of the film business.

We don’t just know everything about Charlie but we also have a perfectly encapsulated vision of the film industry and the dilemma of every writer, actor and/or director that has been defined by a “use by” stamp.

As for the fictional ABCD, isn’t it within the realm of possibility? Was not the value of “The World’s Deadliest Catch” enhanced by the death of one of its fishermen? And the death of the crocodile hunter? Is Charlie’s conversation with Kermit Fenster so far fetched?

“I’m a CIA operative. Central Asian desk. Seventeen months in Tashkent. I’ve been all over the area – Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan – all the Stans, including Afghanistan. I helped kick the Taliban the fuck out of there.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lots of interesting things going on over there these days. You got your shaky governments, you got your rebels, you got your Russian mafia, you got your Islamic fundamentalists, you got your drug cartels, you got your warlords. We got interests there because of the oil. The Russians think they still own it. Besides the oil, there’re gold reserves, there’s opium being transshipped from China. There are ecological disasters about to happen – the Aral Sea is drying up, losing 7.5 square kilometers a year from too much irrigation. So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Central Asia, Uzbekistan in particular.”

“As a reality show?”

“Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

“Well, I don’t know –“

“You don’t know? The place is perfect. It’s exotic, it’s dangerous, you take your life in your hands just drinking the water…”

“Do you have a concept?”

“What I was thinking was one of these reality programs about the day-to-day life of a warlord – you know, follow him around, film him with his family, getting tributes from neighboring villages, running guns, taking a cut out of the dope trade, consolidating his power. You call it Warlord. How can you not watch that?”

Kermit had a point, and Norman was able to sell the idea to his boss at ABC, Howard Draper. Draper, in turn, would have to sell it to the CEO’s insulators/isolators, affectionately referred to as Poindexter and North (Reagan’s go-to guys when he didn’t want to know who was going or doing).

“There’s a project in my division that’s ready to be funded. I need one point two right away against a thirteen-episode budget at four all in.”

Poindexter and North exchanged a look, pregnant with indifference, and then proceeded contrapuntally:

“Log line?”

The Sopranos meets The Osbornes in Central Asia.”

“Time frame?”

“We can be testing six weeks from funding, on the air in three months.”

“Upside?”

“Watercooler show at three hundred per hour.”

“Downside?”

“Inexperienced producers, unpredictable talent.”

“Exposure?”

“Most of the exposure is out of the country.”

“Attackability?”

“Questionable taste.”

“Sex?”

“No.”

“Language?”

“Controllable in the editing room.”

“Violence?”

“Big time.”

“Victims?”

“Foreign nationals.”

“Women or children?”

“Collaterally.”

“Moslems?”

“Nominally.”

Poindexter and North shared another one of their coded looks. The buzzer had sounded on the word Moslem.

“What’s a nominal Moslem?”

“Someone who lives in Uzbekistan and makes his living as a warlord.”

“Guy pray to Mecca and wear a robe?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Cover?”

“Some sort of natural history documentary for the Archaeology Channel.”

“Exit strategy?”

“Pack up and leave in twenty –four hours.”

Damage control was North’s area. He was a vacuum cleaner, his job to suck up anything embarrassing to the company and dump the ashes in a toxic waste dump in Nevada.

Lefcourt takes us on a journey that is a dead-on, hilarious take on television conglomerates, development, reality shows, and present day audience preferences.  Think Graham Greene’s “Our Man in Havana” set in Afghanistan, careening madly down a rocky slope.  This book is knowing, cynical and optimistic at the same time. His strong suit in all of this is blurring the lines between “what is” and “what hasn’t happened yet, but probably will.”

Life Lessons for Writers:  The lowest common denominator has become the common denominator.

Conversation with the writer:

Neely: I just love your work; period, the end.  You are extremely versatile – You’ve had an incredibly successful career as a television writer/creator/showrunner, novelist and playwright. That’s more than a triple threat.  What haven’t you done that you’d like to do?

Peter: I’d like to break 90 on the golf course.

Neely: 9 holes or 18?

Peter: Six.    There are a number of things I’d like to do that don’t necessarily involve writing, like learning to play the classical guitar, or surf.

But what I’d really like to do is a musical. I’m toying with the idea of trying to adapt my second novel, The Dreyfus Affair, as a musical. One of the qualities that you look for in a musical is interior monologue, which enables characters to express themselves in song. the Dreyfus Affair is about two baseball players who fall in love; their affair becomes a public relations Chernobyl for baseball. It is told from the point of view of this 6′4″, blonde, blue-eyed star shortstop named Randy Dreyfus, who thinks he’s straight – he’s married to Miss California, has 2 kids and is living the perfect life. And then he falls head over heels in love with this black second baseman and doesn’t know how to deal with these feelings. He goes to a shrink for help. The shrink – picture Ben Kingsley — tells him to go with the pitch. Which he does. Causing a maelstrom in the world of Organized Baseball.

Neely: Have you thought of any prospective composers?

Peter: I’m just at the beginning. I got in touch with Harvey Fierstein, but unfortunately he doesn’t like baseball, so I’m going to wade into this world of musical comedy people by myself. A lot of the people in the theater business are gay, and a lot of gay people know The Dreyfus Affair. It is probably my most commercially successful book; I’ve made a very nice living optioning it to movies – at least a half dozen times. The closest we got to getting it made was in 1997, and that already seems like ancient history. Betty Thomas optioned it when she had a deal with Fox, and she got it to Ben Affleck and Don Cheadle, who were going to play the baseball players. They were ready to go; they had it budgeted. But at the last minute Affleck changed his mind. I found out later that Harvey Weinstein whispered in his ear – “Ben, playing a gay guy is career suicide.” So, of course, Ben took his guru’s advice and went on to make “Gigli” and “Surviving Christmas.” In the meantime Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger were getting awards for playing gay guys in “Brokeback Mountain.” The conventional ignorance strikes again.

Neely: Look, if Bud Selig refuses to budge on some “made up” rule so he doesn’t have to acknowledge a perfect game, then I doubt he would be able to withstand the firestorm of an openly gay romance on the field of dreams of the “national pastime.” Me thinks he doth protest too much.

Peter: Absolutely. Imagine if two major stars, say Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez, were suddenly madly in love with each other. How would the Yankees, how would George Steinbrenner, how would baseball in general view the public relations of it? Baseball is more conservative than the Catholic Church. The historical Dreyfus Affair was a major event in France during the 1890’s, in which the French army, fueled by a wave of anti-Semitism, unjustly convicted an innocent Jewish officer by the name of Alfred Dreyfus for spying, causing an enormous cultural rift. I asked myself, what is the analogue to anti-Semitism in France a hundred years later, and decided it was homophobia, this “respectable,” low level bigotry that exists throughout our society, but especially in sports.

Neely: How did Manhattan Beach Project do? As compared to The Deal and some of your other novels?

Peter: Not terribly well, commercially. I’m not sure Simon and Schuster put a lot of effort into marketing it. They looked at it as a sequel to The Deal; in fact, they tried to discourage me from writing it. Publishers feel that sequels don’t sell well because people won’t buy the book unless they’ve already read the first one. I don’t know if that’s actually true, but it’s one of those gospels that marketing departments believe, therefore it becomes true. There are a lot of these self-fulfilling prophesies in the publishing business.

The book got great reviews. I got a front page Arts and Leisure review by Janet Maslin in The New York Times. She raved about the book. I think her quote was “Peter Lefcourt does for Hollywood what Christopher Buckley does for Washington.” But when the review came out, the books weren’t in the bookstores yet. It took another month to get them out there, and by that time, the heat was gone from that review. You need to reach a critical mass in sales by a certain time, or you’re dead in the water. The business model in publishing is very dysfunctional. They estimate sales, then print a certain number of copies. Often, they either print too many or too few. They really don’t know much until the returns come in. There’s a saying in publishing: “Gone today, here tomorrow.”

Another reason for the book’s underwhelming sales, I think, may be due to its complex comic premise. It’s a hard thing to explain simply. The scam that Charlie Berns pulls off doesn’t fit into a log line. Anyway, I’m glad I wrote it because that character is near and dear to me.

Neely: Manhattan Beach Project was kismet for me. How could I not read it? I live in Manhattan Beach and worked at the Manhattan Beach studios. Believe me, I looked everywhere for ABCD.  I loved the play on “the Manhattan Project,” which, of course, underscored the self importance of the developers and executives who fool themselves into believing that they are creating high art for the masses (as long as it gets a 15 share), although in most cases they are constructing bombs in the truest sense of the word. Any real life “inspirations,” besides yourself, in the book?

Peter: I found myself wondering what Charlie Berns, who had won an Academy Award in The Deal, written 12 years earlier, would be doing at the moment. You create good characters and you want to know what’s happened to them. So I figured that, given the Darwinian nature of Hollywood, it’s perfectly plausible that three years after the Academy Award this guy would be out of luck. So I posited that Charlie would be broke and out of work again and that he would, with delicious irony, be living in his nephew’s guest house – the nephew who had become a big star, the nephew he had “discovered” as a screenwriter in The Deal. Career success in Hollywood is a greased pole. You can go down very quickly.

What would Charlie get involved in? It was obvious to me that if there were a Dodge City – a wide open town – in the entertainment world, it would be television. At the time I wrote the book, in 2003, reality television was the new hot thing. It was perfectly feasible to me, in view of the enormous pressure to provide ratings at any cost, that a television network could have a secret division responsible for producing outré reality programming – a kind of covert skunkworks, like “The Manhattan Project,” in World War II, secretly developing an atom bomb.

The other theme I was exploring was “plausible deniability” – a skill perfected by the Reagan White House in the 1980’s when the President kept himself deliberately out of the loop with regard to any questionable policies – like the whole Iran/Contra arms funding – in order to be insulated if things blew up. My version of this phenomenon was ABCD, this covert branch of ABC, working out of a bunker in Manhattan Beach, developing these outrageously manipulative reality shows to which they wanted no tangible attachment. The network would create a series of buffers to distance themselves from the operation. I’m convinced that it is possible the TV networks have projects in development that they are not terribly proud of but that they wouldn’t hesitate to air if these programs could deliver the eyeballs. They’d probably air the Crucifixion if they could get away with it.

I decided to set the story in Central Asia because it is one of the most fucked places on the Earth. You have an Islamic culture that gets 75 years of Soviet rule grafted on top of it; then the Soviets leave and you have this gaping vacuum. The “Stans” are these strange cultural hybrids, where you have post WWII neo-Soviet architecture, the ugliest things in the world, right beside crumbling mosques and bazaars, all of it in a terribly ecologically-challenged environment. The place is a mess; it has no economic viability; it’s run by warlords. I thought this was a great place to find a warlord who essentially ran the country or part of the country and do a reality show about this guy’s day-to-day life.

What makes the comedy work is the brainstorm that Charlie has to change the story by using subtitles. Nobody understands Uzbek, or at least nobody with a Nielsen box, so what difference does it make what the people are actually saying? They construct a “fictional” reality show. The banality of real life evil isn’t as interesting as the concocted version. In Uzbekistan, the real warlord has a son who’s joining the Taliban; the wife hasn’t talked to him in 4 years; his daughter is a lesbian. So Charlie punches up “reality,” using the same footage but rewriting the dialogue by translating the Uzbek into English subtitles meaning entirely different things. Now the son is going to college; the daughter is looking for a husband; the wife is away in Bishkek getting a face lift. Everything gets changed into a very soapy type of story that becomes catnip for American viewers. “Warlord” becomes a major hit until it causes international repercussions and the State Department gets involved and the whole thing blows up in Charlie’s face.

There’s a third book in this trilogy called Le Jet Lag, set at the Cannes Film Festival. In this book, Charlie is only one of five characters. I was at Cannes in 2004 with a short film that was based on one of my stories. The place blew my mind. It’s essentially a meat market pretending to be a film festival full of people, jet-lagged to the teeth, making deals for projects that they don’t even control. All these different languages going and cell phones ringing constantly. I thought it would be a great placed for Charlie Berns; just his type of place. I filled out the cast of characters with a studio publicist, a journalist, a very ambitious intern, and an actor who shows up and ends up spending 12 days never sleeping in the same bed.

Simon & Schuster, who published my last three books, was not interested in this one, so I sold it to Macadam/Cage, a boutique publisher in San Francisco with a good list. They bought it in January of 2008 and then went belly-up. The book was in galleys when they pulled the plug on their entire list. I have the rights back, and I’m looking for a new publisher. So there is a Charlie Berns trilogy, but the third one, Le Jet Lag, is not presently available.

Neely: That answers several of the questions that I was going to ask, because I knew you had been working on a third book and I was hoping that Charlie Berns wasn’t dead to the world. Now I understand why you haven’t had the book signing you mentioned a couple of years ago. Tell me a bit more about the premise of the book.

Peter: In Le Jet Lag, Charlie Berns has two thirds of a movie that he made in Canada, funded by a consortium of periodontists from Edmonton. He’s made this elaborate World War I love story but he’s missing the middle part of the movie, the battle sequence, because he doesn’t have enough money to shoot it. So he goes to Cannes with two thirds of this movie and is trying to get money to finish the film. Things get complicated when the periodontists come over to party, and Charlie has to spend his time trying to get them laid, while he’s looking for production money. He winds up with money from a gay Nigerian email scammer, who wants him to put his boyfriend in it. So Charlie has Lionel fly over to rewrite the entire middle of the movie into a gay love story. Once again, he puts on his tap shoes and comes out still breathing.

Neely: Peter, you really do have one of the strangest minds that I’ve ever encountered, triggered by the fact that you are absolutely the master of both the “pin prick to the balloon” and the “snowball into an avalanche” style of storytelling.

Peter: Have you ever read Abbreviating Ernie? That’s my weirdest book. It’s about a cross-dressing urologist in New York named Ernie Haas, who loses a vital organ while screwing his wife, wearing one of her dresses, while she’s chained to the refrigerator. The event becomes a media maelstrom. It was published in 1997. To date, no one has evinced the slightest interest in filming it – except Eric Bogosian, who wanted to play Ernie.

Neely: I just finished it, and the question that comes to mind is this. Did you have a disturbed childhood?

Peter: No, I had a very nice childhood.

Neely: At what stage of your career did you begin novel writing? Were you already a TV writer, or did you start writing novels first?

Peter: I was living in New York in the 70’s driving a cab, a great apprenticeship for a young writer. It’s like you have a new one-act play in the back of your cab with every fare. You just sit there and listen to people talk. If you ask me, it’s much more valuable than a PhD in creative writing. Anyway, I had a relative who told me that I should write television. I remember thinking, “I can’t write that shit – I can’t even watch it.” I was a big time intellectual snob. But I needed the money, and I had a screenplay – a porno script that had an interesting Gothic story to it. The logline was: “Hitchhiker gets picked up by two sisters who chain him in a barn and make a sex slave out of him.” I thought, why not? That’s a good Gothic story. I’ll just take the hard-core sex out. This would be about 1972, and my relative had a contact at Universal, so I put it in an envelope and sent it to Universal and, much to my surprise, they bought it. They flew me out here; I was very excited. they gave me $2,500. I had never had that much money in my life at one time. In 1972 that was a lot of money.

Neely: I know. In 1972 I was making $400 a month before taxes.

Peter: Of course they never made the movie. It got rewritten to death. I stayed out in L.A. and eventually got my first television job, a project called “Let’s Switch” with Barbara Eden and Barbara Feldon; a 1973 television movie about two married women who decide to switch roles. It got rewritten to death, too. I stumbled along writing episodes of shows like “Petrocelli” and “Kate McShane” and got my first steady job on “Eight is Enough.” But I never stopped loving fiction. Hollywood to me was always a day job. I published one novel in 1976 called Deerhunt which sold about 80 copies, 79 of which were to people who thought it was The Deerhunter. It’s completely different, and not very good.

Neely: What was your most successful novel and was it your favorite?

Peter: I’ll answer this question backwards. I think asking any novelist what his or her favorite is –

Neely: I know, it’s your child.

Peter: I was going to say that you love your children in different ways. People will say that “my first child is a little bit special” and it’s a cliché, but true. That being said, for me, it’s probably The Dreyfus Affair because it connected with a wider readership. It wasn’t a political diatribe against homophobia but it had a message that people related to, without my having to get on a soapbox. It’s a gay love story that doesn’t involve AIDS; it has a happy ending. There’s very little explicit sex in it. My gay friends tell me they’re disappointed with the lack of sex — but what is it they say? Write what you know. It has a very gentle message of tolerance, made more palatable through humor. Straight women like the book as much as gay men.

Neely: You know, that’s not an unusual dynamic.

Peter: I’m disappointed that it hasn’t been made into a movie. I think it’s a very commercial movie. It’s gotten so close, so many times.  David Frankel was going to do it at one point; Barbra Streisand, Jody Foster, Garth Brooks all expressed interest at some point or other. It’s a puzzlement to me, especially after “Brokeback Mountain” seemed to dismantle the canard that people would not walk into a movie theater if they thought they might see two guys kissing. “Brokeback Moutain” was commercially successful. And though a beautiful movie, it’s very dark and sad at the end. The Dreyfus Affair would be a movie with a happy ending. Probably the least successful of my books was one called Eleven Karens (Note: besides Deerhunt), which was the one before The Manhattan Beach Project. It was an attempt to write a book along the lines of Flaubert’s Sentimental Education, told from the point of view of an older man looking back at the loves of his life. One of the peculiarities of my particular sentimental education was that it involved a number of women named Karen. I don’t know why, but it was just the serendipity of life. In the book the narrator has had relationships with eleven women, all named Karen, beginning in the 5th grade; each one of them is a separate chapter. The thru line is that he keeps falling for women named Karen. It was mostly fictional, but some of these women were amalgamations of real women. I keep hoping to get sued; it might help the book sell.

Neely: I think Manhattan Beach Project is something of a hybrid in terms of feature possibilities and might best be served by the kind of films that HBO does best; the kind that Larry Gelbhart used to write for them.

Peter: Sure, like “Weapons of Mass Distraction.”  But when “The Deal” went straight to DVD, it certainly didn’t help get Manhattan Beach Project off the ground as a feature, especially since Bill Macy, who made “The Deal” said he didn’t want to go to Uzbekistan. “Come on,” I said. “There are great hookers there.” But I couldn’t get him interested.

Neely: I thought that the warlord storyline was among the most hilarious I’ve ever read – the machinations and heightened reality jump off the page – but one of the most interesting aspects for me was the plausibility of the inane actions by network officials in trying to stretch the envelope to ripping; where the only concerns are the legal liability issues, which as any business affairs executive will tell you are the primary concerns in producing reality television – to the point that contestants are required to sign book-length “hold harmless” agreements and psychologists are hired as exit therapists for the losers. But let’s talk more about your experience in the business. Any mentors?

Peter: Not per se, but I had a lot of people that I admired. I was a great fan of Paddy Chayefsky, because I loved his voice. I love screenwriters whose voices survive the filming – people like Chayefsky, Alvin Sargent, Robert Towne. As for my experience in television, Barney Rosenzwieg, on “Cagney and Lacey,” was not a mentor exactly, but a great collaborator. He ran interference with the network; he fought battles for me and didn’t get in the way. But I can’t really think of anyone who took me under his wing. I think you have to feel your own way; there is no due process in Hollywood. There is no logic to it. When I could no longer get work back in the late 80s and early 90s I decided to write a novel, The Deal,  that would burn my bridges to the ground; a novel that would ensure that I could never eat lunch in this town again, forcing me to return to New York and other types of projects. That the book, perversely, turned out to be a great career boost is almost like a plot of –

Neely: — one of your novels.

Peter: Exactly. Just like Charlie’s resurrection, when he tries to commit suicide and his nephew shows up with a script about Benjamin Disraeli and he’s off and running with it. It’s one of those things that both frustrates and amuses me – that there is no logic to career paths. It all seems like a crap shoot masquerading as a business masquerading as an art form. That’s really what it is. Every time I go to a film festival and we talk about art, and yes, it is art at its best – there are beautiful films that get made, managing to survive somehow at the intersection of commerce and art.

Neely: Are you working on anything else, besides Le Jet Lag?

Peter: Actually I’m working on another book. I decided that I wanted write something besides comic fiction. The genesis of this new book is a beautiful Italian movie called “The Best of Youth.” It was developed for Italian television, a 10 hour mini-series that they consolidated into two 3 hour movies when they released it internationally. It is the story of two brothers over a period of 40 years. I liked the canvas of a family relationship over time and decided to convert it to a miniseries using an American family, half Irish, half Italian. For time frame, I created a parenthesis, beginning the series the day Kennedy was assassinated and ending it on 9/11. Originally I created a family with five siblings, all born in the 1940’s and 50’s, growing up outside of Chicago in Evanston, a city that’s very middle America. CAA got me meetings with Spielberg’s people and Hanks’ people to pitch it as a high end mini-series. And they all said that it was fascinating, that if only the idea were based on a book. So I decided, fuck it, I’ll write a book. But I’ll write what I know. I’m a Jew from Long Island. So I translated that concept to a Polish Jewish American immigrant family living on Long Island, but used the same parenthesis, from 1963 to 2001. The kids were all born in this country but the father was born in Poland. I wrote this long manuscript, 938 pages, which I’m now cutting because it’s too long. I’m trying to cut it down under 700 pages. And I’m looking for a new publisher. This book is special, and I don’t want it put out by a company that publishes five hundred books a year. And then, after I have a publisher, I want to develop it as a mini-series because I think it’s a natural for long form TV. Five siblings, we meet them in 1963, the youngest is 13 and the oldest is 21. It’s about their lives and the changes they live through in the zeitgeist: Viet Nam, the women’s movement, gay rights, sex drugs and rock’n roll — all the things that happened culturally. It is a kind of cultural autobiography, with fictional characters.

Neely: What are you reading right now?

Peter: I’m reading a biography of Madame de Stael, a fascinating woman who survived the French Revolution. What a resourceful woman.

Neely: That is so obscure and so intellectual and so cool. I almost used one of her famous quotes as my announcement last week: “The more I see of men, the more I like dogs.”

I know this is something of a non-sequitur, but I’d like to touch on a subject that is very sensitive to writers. What’s your feeling on getting notes on your work?

Peter: I hate it, always have. I can never get used to the presumption of guilt. As soon as you submit a piece of work, they make an appointment for notes. As if it were, ipso facto, deficient. It’s different getting notes from a director or an actor: They have to go do it. So if somebody says to me “I don’t know how to film this or play this,” I respect that problem and try to address it.  Even when I get notes from a producer who says “I can’t afford to do that,” I respect that also. But when some film school graduate hits me with one of those clichés – “amp up the stakes,” “what’s the character’s arc?” etc., I tend to tune out. I wrote a piece in the April/May edition of “Written By” magazine about notes called “First Do No Harm.” I think all writers have this incredibly ambivalent feeling toward notes. We need them and yet we hate them.  (http://www.mydigitalpublication.com/publication/?i=36445&31&p=21)

Neely: There’s so much more to talk about.  Let’s continue our conversation in another article for next week, where we can talk some more about The Deal, the prequel to The Manhattan Beach Project. In the meantime, for anyone who hasn’t read The Manhattan Beach Project, go out and buy it or order it from your local library; but preferably buy it – it’s a great reference to keep and have in your home library. Check the following sources, or, if you’re lucky enough to have an independent book store, order it there. Or from Peter’s website: www.peterlefcourt.com. Which, besides containing links to his books, has a series of personal apologies to various people wronged over his life, and some amusing anecdotes, such as his doing a miniseries with Joan Collins in the south of France, in which he kept her in the same wardrobe for 35 pages and lived to tell the tale. *The Manhattan Beach Project – Google Books Result

Contact Neely at neely@nomeanerplace.com.

Take a look at her most recent Studio System blog entitled “Cabbages and Kings: The Year of the Rom Com.” (http://www.baselineintel.com/research-wrap?detail/C8/cabbages_and_kings_the_year_of_the_rom_com_in_tv_pilots)

June 16, 2010

“If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, it’s just possible you haven’t grasped the situation.” – Jean Kerr

“Private Eyes” by Chip Johannessen

What: When a non-licensed private eye, or self-employed researcher as she prefers to be called, and two of her subjects all land in jail, the police have their hands full untangling the who, why and whither of what happened.

Who: An avalanche of misunderstanding careens downhill all because Louise Child decides that she must take extreme measures to get the tuition to send her daughter to St. Vivian’s; something she deemed a necessity as soon as her 14 year old daughter Lumen started dating Hector, the “homie” who took Lumen to visit his cousin at the County Jail for their first date. Louise’s big idea was to follow a cheating husband, obtain the proof of his infidelity, and offer it to him on a platter (or in this case, on plate imprinted with the photograph of his tryst, as the photo shop was running a special) in exchange for $3,678 – the tuition at St. Vivian’s – at his place of business, a law firm.  Only this cheating husband didn’t bite.

Husband: Who are you?

Louise: Friend or enemy. It’s up to you.

Husband: What do you want?

Louise: Four grand would include the negatives. Not just the plate.

Husband: Forget it.

Louise: Ok, $3678, but that’s my bottom line.

Husband: I’m not paying a cent.

Louise: How do you think your wife would like that?

Husband: Ask her.

Louise: That’s what I’m threatening to do. Is this going too fast for you?

Husband: Don’t you get it? It would be a relief?

Louise has hit a wall.

Husband: I don’t love her. I don’t know if I ever did. At this point… I just want to be free.

Outside the Husband’s office, a few office workers look up at the sound of muffled shouting.

Husband (OS): Tell her, you sicko!

Louise (OS): Tell her yourself!

Bam. The door flies open. Louise stands in the doorway, looking back into the office.

Louise: Where do you get off calling me names?!

Louise turns now, sees that people are watching. She steams through the reception area where.. an immaculately groomed woman watches with the others, dressed for shopping, not the law. It’s HEIDI, observing with keen interest as Louise stops by the receptionist’s desk on the way out.

Louise: (to receptionist) Do you validate parking, or is the whole operation cheap?

Heidi, the observer, is the wife and therein lies the source of the pebble that causes a tsunami of an avalanche. Heidi begins to trail Louise, intent on finding out what had just transpired, inadvertently stumbling upon the incriminating plate lying on the front seat of Louise’s car. As related to the police detective taking Louise’s statement…

Louise feels bad, but not bad enough to blame herself.

J.D.: Did you tell her what her husband said?

Louise: Of course not. I wasn’t out to destroy anyone, all I wanted to do was pick up a little tuition money. She was never even supposed to see the plate. And she wouldn’t have except she’s so damn helpful. I mean… she’s Heidi.

J.D.: I know.

Louise: No, I mean she’s Heidi. The little Austrian girl. With the braids. In the book.

J.D.: Never read it.

Louise: She thinks everything will be ok as long as she’s nice. If her grandfather’s a monster, or the old lady down the street is crippled, she just pumps out a little more Heidi love vibe and voila, everything’s fine. She lives in this… fairy tale, refusing to acknowledge anything is actually bad, convinced everything depends on her constant giving. So she ends up this slave, endlessly worried about everyone else, but afraid to ask what I want…

Heidi, the innocent in all of this, had continued to trail Louise, kicking loose some more rocks and accelerating the avalanche. Daintily breaking into Louise’s residence, a double wide near the beach, she cheerily informs Louise’s heretofore clueless daughter that she’ll soon be attending (Heidi’s alma mater) St. Vivian’s, causing Lumen to go ballistic, call her mother to tell her that she’s decided to run away to Tijuana with Hector and get married, an idea that does not sit well with Hector, allowing Heidi to find out Louise’s location and report it to the police in a 911 call in which she states that Louise is armed and dangerous. Arriving at the site where Louise was working on a paid surveillance job just as the police arrived to take a vigorously protesting Louise to jail for resisting arrest, Heidi, somewhat remorseful for her own actions, decides, unasked, to continue the surveillance for Louise, discovering the true intentions of Louise’s subject, presumed to be a philanderer, and inserting herself into his “job” at which point both Heidi and the subject are arrested on a much more serious charge than resisting arrest. And it is at jail that Heidi and Louise reconnect.

No Meaner Place: Oil and water never mix until an emulsifier is added, and apparently jail can act as that emulsifier.  Johannessen has written a wonderful buddy Pilot framed in dislocated flashback so that the viewer is constantly kept guessing as to chronology.  The story telling timeline is so incredibly original it disorients the viewer/reader, enhancing the screwball nature of the action allowing the viewer to watch Louise and Heidi develop and grow over the course of the interrogation.  I so thoroughly enjoyed the way in which Johannessen told the story and allowed me to watch the balloon swell until it exploded.  Using the framework of (the detective) J.D.’s interview of Louise to gradually reveal snippets of the story in a seemingly haphazard order that do not yield the whole picture until the very end when the characters find their common ground. We knew from the beginning, or at least from the first moment we met “oil” and “water” that a partnership would be borne of the cynic and the eternal optimist, but the journey getting there was like a drive through the Huntington Gardens when everything, including the corpse flower, was in bloom.

Life Lessons for Writers:  Can’t women be buddies? Apparently not, as far as television is concerned.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: I can’t tell you how excited I am to be talking to you. You are one of my favorite writers and were such an elusive “get.”

Chip: I was so pleased you liked the script because I like it a lot too.

Neely: You have such a broad range of work in television, starting with “Beverly Hills 90210”  and most recently with “Dexter,”

Chip: I’m running “Dexter” right now. I’ve taken it over from Clyde Phillips who ran the first four seasons. The episodes I’ve been working on haven’t aired yet. The opportunity to do “Dexter” coincided with the end of “24” so I came over here. Manny Coto came with me from “24”; he’s fantastic.

Neely: Is Melissa Rosenberg still on “Dexter”?

Chip: No, she’s gone. I tried to get her to stay around but she’s busy, obviously.

Neely: I know. I don’t know how she managed it before, what with the “Twilight” movies and all. What about Wendy West?

Chip: She’s still here.

Neely: I’m a big fan of Wendy’s also and will feature one of her scripts in the upcoming weeks. “Dexter” is just a fabulous show and one that I watch it faithfully, although I prefer to let them build up on my TiVo so I can watch them all at once; I have a tough time waiting a week for a resolution. I think most of us associate you with darker shows such as “Millennium,” “Surface,” and “Moonlight.” Certainly “Dexter” fits into that category, as did “24.” Didn’t you also work on “The X-Files”?

Chip: I had a deal at Fox, but I mainly worked on the show called “Millennium,” which was the second Chris Carter original series to air. It came after the third season of his big hit “The X Files.” I only did one episode of “The X Files” so I didn’t really work on the show. But we all worked in the same physical space because it was all 1013, Chris Carter’s banner. I first saw “The X Files” when I was working on 90210 and I really didn’t like it all that much.  It seemed to be lacking in emotion. But my feelings changed. I now think of the pilot of “The X Files” as a gold standard for everything because it was so clear what Chris was trying to do. The entire series was set out in that first 47 minutes. Oddly enough I pitched “Private Eyes” as “The X Files” of the heart. You had a skeptic and a believer.

Neely: You also did a stint on “24.” I guess my point is that you are not known for comedy, although I did note one episode of “Married with Children” on your filmography..

Chip: That was first episode I had produced after I did “Rugrats.” You know, if you want to have people actually like what you do, that’s a great show for it. There’s nothing like having a five year old go “Oh I loved your episode of “Rugrats.” Although I had written for the Harvard Lampoon in college, I have a hard time with that kind of comedy.

Neely: That’s news to me because “Private Eyes” is hilarious. Even though you’re seeing it as “The X Files” of the heart, this is very comedically based.

Chip: I don’t disagree. It’s a total comedy. I just meant that the conception for the series was that it was all about the possibility and the impossibility of romantic attachments. To have someone who was a skeptic and someone who was a believer and put them into this mixing bowl; that was going to be the substrate for these investigators. These were going to be personal stories that they would unearth.

Neely: When did you write “Private Eyes” and where did it come from within you?

Chip: It came from a couple of places. First, there’s Virginia, to whom I’ve been married a long time. She and I have spent a lot of time talking and writing together, although I think the only thing we were credited on together was an episode of “Millennium.” But she’s the person whose judgment I trust and who I show stuff to. Then it came out of a combination of being very interested in using “The X Files” as a pilot idea; I wanted to apply that conceptual clarity . Virginia and I talked about this a lot.

Neely: Were these characters modeled on anyone or anything, or were they created out of whole cloth?

Chip: They began as abstractions in the same way that Mulder and Scully probably began as abstractions – one a skeptic and one a believer. And then they kind of filled in. Heidi, for example, became “Heidi” after a conversation with my daughter’s Godmother, Jennifer Brancato. Jennifer said, “She sounds like Heidi.” And she talked about her as the character in the book Heidi which I used in the script. She talked about how my Heidi was this bill of goods that is sold to all women when they’re still little girls. You have to love more; you have to be more positive; you have to be this self sacrificing object that tries to improve the universe at your own expense. That was the lesson of Heidi the book character and that’s when my character became Heidi. Louise, I think had more sources.

Neely: I remember that you were very surprised that I had read the script and wanted to know the circumstances.  At the time, in 2007, I was trying to keep current on showrunners for David Kelley and did some research on whom I hadn’t read and you were one of the writers at the top of that list. I called your agent, Elliot Webb, and asked to read something original by you and had to pry this out of his hands.

Chip: Elliot was very protective.

Neely: I adore Elliot. I couldn’t believe he gave me such a hard time given Now he’s a producer, but I miss him as an agent.

Chip: I love Elliot. I used to go to his office just to listen to him do deals. Now my agent is Ted Chervin, one of Elliot’s former partners before they sold the agency and joined ICM.

Neely: I adored your concept, the characters, the writing, everything about it, but mainly I was blown away by the structure, the way you used disjointed chronology to tell the story.  What was your inspiration for the framework, something that so enhanced the comedy and made the journey as much fun as the characters? I had never seen it before and this year is the first year I’ve ever seen it on screen. It’s used in “Good Guys” on FBC and I can’t help thinking that the writers must have, at one point, seen how you used it in “Private Eyes.”

Chip: I should take a look at that show. I initially pitched this to Nina Tassler, who’s always been very nice to me. She liked the idea of opening up the CBS shop to more female-oriented shows that she thought could be interesting. She said let’s do this, but she also said that the one thing she wanted was for the police detective character to be introduced earlier than the way I had pitched it. That became my problem, but it was the thing that ended up making the story so good because it was what made me do the framework. I usually hate framing devices or storytelling gimmicks but I really had no choice other than to do it this way if I was going to bring my guy up earlier. My normal feeling was that this kind of structure would take all the drama away, but this was a comedy so it actually helped it enormously. Nina is the rare person who gives you a note that makes your life difficult but actually helps in amazing ways. So it really grew out of that request, well actually it was more than a request, it was the one requirement she had. So the storytelling grew out of that. And it turned out to be a lot of fun, especially in the way we establish Louise as an unreliable narrator in that series of slightly different versions of her story. It all happens pretty fast. It was all a blast.

Neely: It’s such a great buddy show, but I tried racking my brain for examples of female buddy shows and the only two I could come up with were “Thelma and Louise” and “Cagney and Lacey.”  I suppose “Sex and the City” is one because at the end of the day it is about female bonding.  Can you think of any other examples?

Chip: Oddly enough I was talking to Wendy West about this and she mentioned “Thelma and Louise,” “Laverne and Shirley,” “Cagney and Lacey,” “Sex and the City,” “Kate and Allie,” and “Absolutely Fabulous.”

Neely: There you go. So at this stage of the game, do you think that female buddy shows are too far “out of the box” and if so, why would that be?

Chip: I had never thought about that as a reason “Private Eyes” didn’t go. It seemed pretty clear to me that it was the PI franchise that made them nervous. I think the fact that it was two women made them just that more nervous. And the subset of cases that I really wanted to tell would be about human relationships. This was clearly not going to be a murder mystery every week.

Neely: I really hate to be one of those women, but this is the second really excellent female buddy pilot  I’ve written about that didn’t get picked up. Somehow “They” don’t seem to be afraid to try any one of a number of lame male buddy series – and it continues in that vein with the pickups of “Franklin and Bash,” “The Defenders,” Hawaii 5-0” (yes, it’s a buddy show), and “The Good Guys.”  I guess it’s just female buddy shows. One has a much greater chance of a pick up if a woman is teamed with a man, as in “Castle.” Could there be an estrogen (rather than “glass”) ceiling? There certainly is no limit to the amount of testosterone on the tube. You’ll never know if a female buddy series will succeed if you don’t try.

Chip: In defense of “Hawaii 5-0,” anything with Alex O’Loughlin is worth trying. I worked with him on “Moonlight” and he’s pretty great.

Neely: I guess CBS is hoping this will fall into the category of “the third time is a charm.” I must say, though, and I did say it in an article I wrote for Baseline Studio System, I liked the pilot script of “Hawaii 5-0” and I’m actually looking forward to seeing that pilot. It’s a very expensive, but really good action piece. On paper it works and if CBS doesn’t spare the expense it will work on screen. My impression of Alex O’Loughlin is that he’s a heart throb and may be too soft to play Steve McGarrett. It might have been better (and they would never have considered this for any one of a number of reasons) to cast Scott Caan as Steve and Alex as Danny. I could very well be wrong.

Chip: Yeah, they wouldn’t do that. But honestly, I love Alex O’Loughlin. He might be a little soft, but I have to say that in “Moonlight” he had this impossible task and he really delivered amazingly well. He had to show a lot of colors when he transformed into this aggressive vampire. He was great. He’s a real actor, that guy.

Neely: He is very watchable but CBS has to find the right show and “Three Rivers” certainly wasn’t it. Alex did not sell well as a organ transplant surgeon.  But getting back on track, one thing that I have to say to network execs is that you’re never going to know whether female buddy shows will work if you’re not going to try. Keep in mind that the female buddy shows we mentioned earlier are 10 to 30 years old and still have resonance.

Chip: What was the other female buddy pilot that didn’t get picked up? I think it would be interesting to read that.

Neely: It was called “Soccer Moms” and was by Donald Todd.

Chip: But really, in terms of “Private Eyes,” at the time that I wrote it I think the whole idea of a private eye show helped do it in. There weren’t these comedic cable PI shows like “Monk” with quirky characters. Executives were a bit squeamish about the franchise. They thought “man this could be either really good or really embarrassing.” And I think that’s why they pulled away. CBS was going toward more hard boiled cop franchises. When I first wrote this, it was about the same time that the “CSI” shows were getting picked up. The networks had an idea of the kind of cop investigative shows that they wanted to do. The typical Les Moonves-type story is the strong guy and the women around him; going out and doing all these great team stuff. “Private Eyes” wasn’t that.

Neely: That does fit into the “girl thing” or rather “anti-girl thing” I was talking about.  Interesting also that a few years ago I was talking to Elisa Roth who was at NBC at the time (and was in on the meetings for “Private Eyes” and loved this script)  and I asked her what they were looking for in a pitch. She said they were uninterested in any kind of PI shows, especially those that referenced “The Rockford Files.”  Ironic, isn’t it, that one of the pilots that NBC produced this year was a remake of “The Rockford Files.” I guess they’re back in the PI business. Lucky for everyone associated with “The Rockford Files” remake that it didn’t get picked up to series. No one would have survived the collateral damage on that one as the original stars are icons and the original writing staff included David Chase.

Chip: As I was thinking some more about this, I remember that I would try to get some casting attached at various times; then over the years I gave up. I also gave up TV for a while in about 2004 or 2005. I was just fed up with the whole thing so I went to law school.

Neely: You’ve got to be kidding.  Ironically, most of the lawyers I’ve met left the law because they wanted to be writers; and you left writing because you wanted to be a lawyer???

Chip: I thought I wasn’t going to do TV anymore at all. But then it crept back in. I’d do a couple of semesters and then I do a TV gig, then another semester and then followed by some more TV. So I kind of kept in it and ultimately went back into it.

Neely: Did you finish law school?

Chip: Yes, I did. I graduated from UCLA.

Neely: Did you pass the bar?

Chip: I haven’t done that yet because I need two months to study and I haven’t had it. During my last semester of school I was also working on “24.”

Neely: This is the most amazing career arc I have ever heard!

Chip: Yeah, I was a little crazy. My wife Virginia was very supportive. When we were young, people didn’t think about careers so much. It’s all different now.

Neely: Who got “Private Eyes” – literally and figuratively? Did it get made?

Chip: My deal at the time was with Universal, so I worked with David Kissinger and Dan Pasternak to try to sell it to Nina Tassler. But it didn’t get made; then it languished for a couple of years until Kevin Reilly at NBC revived it; but again, it didn’t get made.

Neely: How close did it come?

Chip: I don’t know. I can’t imagine it wasn’t their best or at least one of their three best scripts that year. But I don’t think it came close. And when it was revived at NBC that was Elliot’s doing because I was always grousing to him that it didn’t go to air. This was one of those weird scripts that came out really well, and they don’t all come out like this despite what your intentions might be. So it was a few years later and I may even have been in law school at the time, when Elliot got Kevin Reilly to revive it, but I don’t think it was that serious at that point either. Actually, I do think it was what you were talking about, the female buddy thing; that and the softness of the PI genre. I don’t think it was a real contender.

Neely: If Kevin Reilly liked it or understood it, maybe the third time would be the charm there, now that he’s at FBC. You know he took another script that he liked at NBC by Ajay Saghal and had it reworked into something called “Nevermind Nirvana.” Now “Nevermind” (always my penchant for the stupid play on words) that it didn’t get picked up to series, but the timing may have been wrong because FBC was in that enviable position of having very few open slots. And unlike the other networks, I think they’ve made few if any mistakes in their pickups. I’m just thinking that if Kevin Reilly had been a fan, then maybe the time has come for “Private Eyes.”

Chip: Maybe.

Neely: Talk to Ted about it. It really depends on how Kevin Reilly felt about it at the time. This is so fresh and the framing device is so wonderful.

Chip: I have to say that if I’m going to develop again for a studio or network, I think they’ll want something more like “24” from me. I’m not saying that I can come up with something as good as “24”, I’m just saying that that’s the kind of thing they’d want from me, not something like “Private Eyes.”

Neely: You mean testosterone instead of estrogen.

Chip: Yeah.

Neely: That’s what they’re interested in from everyone, including the women. But let’s return to my obsession with the chronology setup in “Private Eyes,” the storytelling framework is very theatrical. Have you ever written for the theater?

Chip: Not really. I started writing after my rock band broke up in New York. I decided I wanted to be an actor, although I wasn’t really very good; I even got my SAG card at some point. I went to a lot of acting classes and that’s where I learned to write because I’d never done anything like that  before. I started writing things for myself and my scene partners. I did scene writing but never a full blown play.

Neely: I think there is a way to tell this story, or a story like it, on stage.  The staging itself is one of the characters and much of the writing lends itself to farce, especially the subject matter. It brings to mind “Noises Off” by Michael Frayn and one of his films, a farce entitled “Clockwise.” I do think “Private Eyes” could be rethought in a different medium. Maybe film, but certainly in terms of the kind of thing you can do with stage lights as a device to indicate time and location, you might be able to think of this as a play. I love it and hate the idea that it’s going to disappear into the ether.

Chip: That’s very kind. One of the things I liked most about this was that the framing device allowed me to keep it very lively and language-driven when I wanted but it didn’t interfere with the surprisingly touching moments. I think it kept the situations sharp and not too schmaltzy. The framing device allowed me to quickly get to the different emotional spaces.

Neely: Even though, or rather because the chronology was framed in a different way, you get a deepening of the character development of both Louise and Heidi that continually grows. By the end of the pilot you thoroughly know who these people are. And as we both know, that is so much easier said than done. It is, of course, the object of every pilot or first episode that the viewer know who the characters are going to be, but it’s rare to be developed as fully as was done in this piece.

Chip: Even in terms of a show like “24” we spent almost all our time thinking of the emotional life of Jack Bauer, believe it or not. That was all you cared about and until you had a good answer to that you didn’t go anywhere. We might sit in a room for 3 or 4 months trying to come up with an emotional thru-line for him and then we could start going.  That’s what it’s all about. I always hear how “actiony” “24” was, but I don’t care about that at all.

Neely: And now you’re working on “Dexter,” the ultimate character piece. Are you working on anything else.

Chip: No, I’m running the show and that’s pretty full time; actually, more than full time even though we only have 12 episodes. But come November I’ll have some time off. I was talking to Howard Gordon and mentioning how “Dexter” was only twelve episodes and he reminded me that I had come straight off of “24” so it’s really 36.

Neely: You’ve been in the business for quite some time now and have had what I’d consider to be a dream career, and I hadn’t known about law school.

Chip: It took me longer than 3 years to finish because I kept going in and out. I was always full time when I was there but I had to go in and out. But when it came time for people to graduate the year I should have graduated I started getting calls from classmates saying “I’m thinking I really don’t want to be a lawyer; I think I want to write TV.”

Neely: Why did you want to go to law school?

Chip: I nearly went when I was young, actually. I was accepted to go to Harvard Law School, but I was playing in this rock band, so I deferred for a couple of years, or however long they let me do it; but eventually I lost my slot. I had always thought about doing capital punishment work, so I got to do some of that at UCLA Law School. I was working at a public defender’s office in Los Angeles my last year and thinking of doing pro bono criminal cases.

Neely: Do you know about “Death Penalty Focus”? I think it’s an organization that you would find very fulfilling. Ed Redlich and Sarah Timberman are very involved with this group.

Chip: I know Sarah and I know of Ed.

Neely: Have you had mentors along the way?

Chip: Chris Carter for sure because I’d never been in a shop that was so story-driven. There was also a guy named Jim Wong who’s now working on a new series called “The Event” with Evan Katz from “24.” Jim’s ability to break stories was just astonishing. Chris Carter’s show was incredibly story-driven and the level of attention to detail was incredible. The amount of producer time that was spent on cuts was amazing and transformed the way TV looked. I feel very lucky to have been part of that. At “24,” Howard Gordon came out of that shop; Alex Gansa came out of the same place; a bunch of us did. It was really a level of quality and neurotic attentiveness to story, production and editing that made a big impression on me and, I think, on some other people there too.

Neely: Have there been any actors along the way that you’ve especially enjoyed writing for?

Chip: People who are leads on successful series, and I’ve fortunate to be on several, tend to be people who can make a lot of things, even the improbable, depending on the genre, work. So Lance Hendriksen was definitely someone like that. Again, I like Alex O’Loughlin; and Michael C. Hall blows me away with what he’s able to do. We’re only four days into production, but I was in Miami watching him work and it was amazing. I was on “Dark Angel” briefly and Jessica Alba was fantastic. I think all these people who are thought of as having a lot going for them – they really do.

Neely: What made you want to be a writer and what brought you out here in the first place?

Chip: My rock band blew up.

Neely: What was the name of your rock band?

Chip: It was called “The Same.” So I had to figure out what I was going to do, which didn’t necessarily mean being a TV writer. But Virginia (we weren’t married then) was in San Francisco and I was in New York City and so we compromised on LA, never having been here. I just somehow ended up writing TV.

Neely: What did you play in the band and do you still play?

Chip: I was a guitarist; but not very much any more. Our keyboard player, who was my college roommate, does all the music for the Coen Brothers – his name is Carter Burwell.

Neely: Oh yeah, I know that name. He was your keyboardist?!

Chip: Yeah. It was our band.

Neely: I have to say, you’ve both gone off in very different and very successful ways. How did you get involved in TV.

Chip: Kind of what I was saying about the acting stuff. That’s how I learned to do it. Then I saw that a lot of the people I knew from the “Harvard Lampoon” were writing half hour comedy and actually getting paid for it, which made me think that is might be possible for me. It is hard to get going in it, but I was fortunate to meet Elliot Webb and a woman named Cathy Carr, who was at Wolf Films at the time. I didn’t do anything at Wolf Films but Cathy made me feel as though there was hope. Eventually, well actually pretty quickly, things worked out.

Neely: Any advice for young writers trying to make there way through the morass?

Chip: I’m on a WGA board now and it’s changed my perception of things a bit, in a good way. I grew up in Detroit and a few years ago I would always say “it’s like Detroit in 1973” or “it’s like Detroit now.” I felt television was a dying industry filled with a bunch of dinosaurs because broadcast TV has had some major problems. But now I actually think it’s a great thing to do and TV is very vibrant. When I started it was very clear what you did to get into broadcast TV – how you got an agent and wrote some spec scripts. It’s a much wilder thing now but that’s good. Earlier everyone had a fairly similar way in which they got their first staff job or their first script sale, or whatever it was. Now there are just a million more ways to do that. I think it’s fantastic. That’s not exactly advice so I guess my point is that my advice three years ago would have been “why would you possibly want to be in this dying industry?” But I think I was so wrong; I think it’s a really good place to be.

Neely: So what’s next for you? Any pilots on the horizon? How about features?

Chip: I do have one pilot idea that I’m trying to do with a friend named John Brancato who writes features. A few years back, I was lucky enough to produce something for ABC in Rome where I got to live for a year (around 2004), even though it ended up being rather difficult because we went way over budget. That’s when I thought that if I can’t have fun writing TV in Rome, I should do something else and that’s when I went to law school. But I’m really eager to get back to working overseas again so I have something I want to do with John. We haven’t written it yet but we know what we want to do and that we’d be able to produce it overseas.

Neely: Any features?

Chip: No… I wish.

Neely: What was the name of the project you did in Rome?

Chip: “Empire,” by a guy named Tom Wheeler who just got a pilot picked up to series at NBC called “The Cape.”

Neely: I know. I’ve been chasing him for months, since the beginning because the first article I wrote for the blog was his spectacular script entitled “Captain Cook’s Extraordinary Atlas.” I’ve always felt that it should have been done as a book series – it would have been the next Harry Potter.

Chip: Tom’s an incredible writer. He loves that fantasy/adventure genre and he’s so amazing at it. When we did “Empire,” sitting with Tom and his brother Bill, who’s a feature writer, and a woman named Sarah Cooper, it was the most fun I’ve ever had writing.

Neely: I can’t thank you enough. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this script for years, so thanks so much for taking the time.

Chip: Howard Gordon and I did a pilot called “Ultraviolet” a while back. . Our main female character was named Neely, which I thought of as short for Danielle. Is that true for you?

Neely: No, but we’ll go into that another day (or maybe not). Thanks, Chip. I’m looking forward to this season of “Dexter.”

June 1, 2010

“You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don’t ever count on having both at once.” Robert A. Heinlein

“Them” by John McNamara & David Eick

Based on the Graphic Novel Six by Michael Oeming & Daniel Berman

What: They’ve landed; they’ve assumed our form; they’re taking over.

Who: The handsome Cain Johnson is a keen observer and an enforcer. His latest case is that of twenty-something Adam Laurie who, according to his therapist Ezekial Smits, may have gone over to the other side, something that will endanger the very structural fabric of the Central Command.  When Adam walks into the local television station and begins firing his revolver and ranting into the camera all hell breaks loose.

Adam: I have an important message… for the people of Earth…

Several terrified studio workers react – God, no, that kind of lunatic…

Adam: (into the studio cameras) …I’m… from another world. Another plane of existence. (moving closer to one camera) We’ve made ourselves look like you, sound like you. Home, we have no bodies. We’re energy… light… no tactile or emotional sensation. For us, there is no such thing as touch or feeling… no difference between this –

–he kisses the anchorwoman, startling her –

–and this –

– then SHOOTS the Anchorwoman in the leg, sending her into a seizure of agony and the studio into PANDEMONIUM.

Cain must do everything in his power to eliminate him, not because he is crazy, but because the truth of what he says threatens the very existence of their group, for they are, indeed, aliens; and Adam has broken the fundamental rule – he fell in love and learned to feel human emotions.

Cain’s inability to capture Adam brings the wrath of his other world in the form of a Sector Chief from Central Command.  As the Sector Chief gradually assumes human form, he instructs Cain that now, instead of killing Adam, Cain, the enforcer, must bring Adam to him for a “debriefing,” a “debriefing” that will be as terrifying as it will be painful.  Their bodies are almost indestructible; unless the injury is “sudden and catastrophic” triggering the “self destruct  gene,” the body will heal instantaneously. But, in an effort to assimilate human traits, injuries will result in extraordinary pain.  When Cain succeeds in capturing Adam, Adam is rescued by unknown hijackers.  Even more infuriated, Uriah Selleck, the newly created human version of the Sector Chief, proclaims that Adam, when ultimately captured, will not be immune to the torture inflicted on him and will, Selleck assures them, reveal his comrades in the nascent rebel group.

Each cog in the wheel of the Central Command is given only enough information to do its job. They are brought to the doorway which, in Cain’s words are

Cain’s Log: (V.O.) Where we cross over. Where life on our home world ends… and life here begins… A life where we receive orders. Obey without question. And know almost nothing about how many of us are here, what we’re doing or why. So when things go wrong, it’s difficult to know how to respond.

A lack of knowledge that is illustrated further by Uriah, the newly created human.

Uriah: Do you know why we’re here on this planet, Cain?

Cain: To help its people.

Uriah: And how are we doing that?

Cain: I don’t know.

Uriah: (to Paul) How many other cells are there?

Paul: I don’t know, sir.

Uriah: Abigail Denver, how long have we been here, what goals have we achieved in the overall operation?

Abigail: I don’t know sir.

Uriah: Exactly. You know what you need to know. A single Rogue won’t stop us. He can’t. He doesn’t know enough. Which is precisely the point.

But Adam isn’t a single rogue; he knows that they aren’t there to “help” earth; and he also knows more of the Central Command mission than they believe is possible. Others in the rebel group now also know, but will it be too late to stop the Central Command?

No Meaner Place: It’s difficult to dissect all the layers present in this piece.  Eick and McNamara have carefully constructed a classic 50’s horror play in the vein of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” that keys in on the psychological paranoia subtext while at the same time slyly and subtly referencing controlling cult religions such as Scientology and the Unification Church of Sun Myung Moon. And yet on another level, or maybe on the same one, this is the Cheney/Bush administration where our phone records and internet messages were secretly read, where government was no longer transparent and we were told that access was denied for reasons of national security; where torture was used in defiance of the Geneva Convention; and no one division of the government knew what the other division was doing; and all of it was for the good of the people.

Yet within this paranoid other worldly Sci/Fi drama is infused humor and especially one humorous thread that runs throughout the pilot and will, presumably, through out the series.  Recall that Uriah, the Sector Chief appeared out of nothingness before he assumed human shape, since the aliens have no form other than light and air on their home planet.  Upon assuming human form, there is a naming process for each new alien:

Uriah studies himself. Arms. Hands. Chest. Abigail moves to him with a leather-bound book.

Abigail: Welcome , sir. I’ll choose a name for you.

Naked Man: I’ll choose my own.

Silently affronted, Abigail hands him the book.  Cain watches the Naked Man take it and stab a finger at random into a page.

Naked Man: (reading) “Uriah”

Ezekial writes this down as the Naked Man casts aside the leather book – which we now recognize as a BIBLE – and moves to a table.  On it, magazines, hundreds of them, all the same – TV GUIDE. He chooses an issue at random, opens it and says the first surname he sees there –

Naked Man: “Selleck.”

Ezekial: Uriah Selleck. Excellent choice.

Uriah: One old book that never changes and an infinity of periodicals that never stop. What a world.

Life Lessons for Writers:  “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.” And is there anyone more paranoid than a network executive?

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: I’m so sorry we weren’t able to coordinate with John on this, but I know you’ll be able to give his perspective.

David: John, I call him Mac, has a very unique perspective, so I hope I’ll be able to approximate it one way or the other.

Neely: You and John have known each other a very long time.

David: Yes we have. As a matter of fact, my boys are now getting old enough that I can show them my crappy old TV shows and I was showing them the first thing Mac and I did together on a show called “Spy Game” for ABC.  They seemed to like it. They’ll understand later that they should not have enjoyed it.

Neely: But this only goes to prove, you have to show it to the audience it’s intended for in order to get the true perspective of how it works. How old are your boys?

David: It’s probably true that “Spy Game” was intended for people 10 and under.

Neely: Okay, I see your point. That is a demographic that is not valued a great deal, at least in mainstream television – Nickelodeon, maybe, ABC, probably not.

“Them” was based on the Graphic Novel Six by Michael Oeming & Daniel Berman, but how did the two of you come to collaborate on it?

David: Mac and I went to dinner at La Loggia (Note: this is the same restaurant where Legan and Wilding came up with “The Cell”) and we were just talking and he sprung it on me. He said he was looking for something to do for a pilot and he had gotten a hold of this graphic novel from David Engel, a manager at Circle of Confusion. He’d gotten it into his head that we should write this together. This really shocked me because all I had written up to that time were two stories and one story and teleplay for “Battlestar Galactica.” And here was Mac coming to me and asking me to cowrite a network pilot with him. I was very flattered. We actually pitched this on the phone to Craig Erwich in broad terms and described how we would adapt it; Craig just loved it. I think he just loved the graphic novel. Our whole thing was that we were going to use it as an allegory for this new, present day cold war-esque neighborhood fear; what everyone was feeling – not knowing if those guys down the street were terrorists. I think Craig was literally giddy about that as a metaphor or prism for a sci-fi show that the rest of it, including that I was co-writing it, didn’t matter to him.

That being said, I have to admit that if you were going to take a flyer on someone who hadn’t done a lot of writing and what you wanted to do was a post 9/11 metaphorical sci-fi piece, certainly having done “Battlestar Galactica” gave me street cred.

Neely: I loved the sophistication but this could also be taken at a literal level.  Did they get it or did you have to explain it? You’ve already alluded to the answer, in that Craig loved it at the pitch and was enthusiastic about the allegory possibilities. But how much did you have to explain what you wanted to do?

David: I understand why you’re asking because there’s a possible version of this scenario where maybe we went in and pitched a kind of “My Favorite Martian” television show and then sneakily and underhandedly made it a metaphor for post 9/11 paranoia. But the truth is, we wrote what we pitched. We were very excited about the idea that this thing could be addressed as an alien culture that was sent to take over Earth and conduct some sort of clandestine assignment and found themselves, nevertheless, inexplicably falling victim to the creature comforts of our culture. This seemed so amazingly appropriate, timely and exciting for what was happening in the real culture that I think that everybody (meaning Mac and Craig and the people at the network) was just thrilled. That was the objective and that’s what we did.

Neely: That’s a really interesting aside because it dovetails so nicely with the script that was recently featured on the blog entitled “The Cell” which was a satirical look at a cell of terrorists sent to Chicago to blow up a power plant and instead end up so loving the social environment that they become totally integrated into society and have no intention of doing any harm to their new found land.

David: Interesting parallel.

Neely: David, you are a true lover of Sci/Fi and most of what you have written or worked on is in that genre.  Isn’t that correct?

David: It’s not correct as regards to where I come from or why I got into the business in the first place, but it is correct that it is the pigeon hole I seem to have been placed in. And as I sit here in my home office surrounded by movie posters from Woody Allen and Martin Scorsese and Bob Fosse films, it’s ironic that science fiction is the thing I’m known for.

Neely: What draws you to the genre? What can you do in Sci/Fi that you can’t do in other genres?

David: If you look at “Battlestar Galactica” or the things I was doing when I was running Sam Raimi’s company, which wasn’t hardcore sci-fi but more cult fantasy with “Xena” or horror with “American Gothic,” or action adventure with “Spy Game,” or some of the other goofy stuff we did, none of it was “CSI” or westerns. It was all pretty much in the vanguard of comic book fare. I think the leap from comic book fantasy and horror to science fiction was easy for the people who came to me with the “Battlestar Galactica” title because it seemed like science fiction and fantasy worked together. I was looking at the opportunity of “Battlestar Galactica” as a chance to make the kind of science fiction that I liked which was not the kind of science fiction that was being made on television. I couldn’t get through an episode of “Star Trek;” I never watched “Andromeda” or “Stargate” and to tell the truth I can’t even name all the sci-fi shows that were on TV; and while I enjoyed science fiction movies like anybody, the big flashy popcorn action films like “Men in Black,” they weren’t really science fiction to me. I wanted to do with “Battlestar” what I had enjoyed about “Blade Runner,” which nobody went to see, or some of the novels I read by Heinlein and Azimoff and Philip K. Dick. It was really an opportunity to use the genre to tell allegorical fiction about our time. This was not a new idea; please, this is an old idea but I didn’t see it happening any more in the genre.

Neely: You mentioned westerns earlier, and I’ve always viewed a lot of these sci-fi shows, even some of the books, as westerns far in the future because oftentimes they have the same characters and same dilemmas. I think if you tear sci-fi down to its roots you will find a western by a different name. They are both, in their own ways, morality plays; sci-fi is generally just a bit more allegorical or certainly more metaphysical. And even though I profess not to be a particular fan of the genre, one of the things that’s especially appealing to me in sci-fi is the portrayal of women, even though it seems to be such a testosterone-driven genre. The female characters are usually exceptionally strong, much stronger than in other contemporary storytelling.

David: I find that to be especially true in “Battlestar” and in “Them,” both of which were born out of partnerships. From my own perspective, I was raised by a single mom and I am eternally fascinated by the female perspective in drama, so when you give me something that is considered to be a sort of muscley genre like science fiction, it’s always been fascinating to me to see what would happen if you plant women in traditionally male roles. That being said, it was Ron Moore’s idea to make Starbuck a female and to make the president of the colonies a woman. But certainly they were among my favorite characters to write when I began writing on the show. And when Mac and I got together on “Them” I probably put in on myself to ask if we wanted to put some focus on the female characters. Mac is like Lee Marvin in a writer’s body, he’s a dude who’s going to write men and they’re going to be really strong and really cool. And I knew I was never going to be able to compete with that, but maybe what I could bring to the table was a view of the other half. So for sure, women are something I’m deeply fascinated with within the genre.

Neely: You mentioned that you took it to Craig Erwich at Fox. Did you take it to anyone else before that or did you have a deal there?

David: No. In fact, much of this had already been teed up before I was even brought into it. Someone, either Mac or Dave Engle from Circle of Confusion, had had these preliminary conversations with Craig prior to our pitch. Craig had read the graphic novel by the time we got on the phone with him; so he knew what it was. He’d read it, he loved it, he knew the players, he knew the officers, he got it. It was an extraordinarily simple pitch.

Neely: In the graphic novel, is the subtext there? Or did you bring the subtext to it?

David: I’ve done a number of adaptations – “Battlestar” was one, “Bionic Woman” was one (in its own way), and I wrote an adaptation of the novel of “Children of Men” for television (which was also adapted as a movie); adaptations are funny animals. I’m doing one right now for HBO based on a graphic novel and I tend to barely glance at the book.  I want to know names, I want to get a sense of the structure, I want to know what the big idea is, but I get away from it as fast as I can because I don’t want to be overly affected by it. In the case of “Battlestar” I never actually watched any of the old shows. I had no idea what the old show was.

Neely: I don’t think anyone else did either.

David: As far as the subtext, I don’t know. I tend to think the book wasn’t as intent on telling a metaphorical story about terror cells. I could be wrong about that. I just read it as quickly as I could, got a sense of the big picture ideas and then fleshed it out with Mac without any evidence of the graphic novel in the room or nearby.

Neely: The pilot got made, didn’t it?

David: Yes it did.

Neely: Were you happy with the cast? With the director?

David: I loved the director, Jonathan Mostow. At the time I was doing another pilot for NBC that I didn’t write but that I had put together as a producer and I was not happy at all with the creative gathering that was taking place on that one. I was going between Universal and CBS Radford and every time I got to Radford, I was like Dorothy opening the door and everything was in color. I would feel so happy and so at home and everything was awesome. Jonathan directed this like a 1960s paranoia Frankenheimer thriller like “Manchurian Candidate” or “The Seven Days in May.” There was a point at which we were arguing with the studio about the set and the cost of building the set was higher than normal because we needed to have a ceiling. The studio couldn’t understand why we needed a ceiling because no one ever used a ceiling; and the answer was that in order to create the kind of paranoid mood Jonathan wanted he needed cameras to be very low to the ground and they needed to use very wide angle lenses – meaning you were going to see the ceiling.

Neely: Very claustrophobic.

David: Exactly. I was so happy to work with a director who had a vision, who had a film language reference that was very deep and varied. I did feel our cast was very strong, but as I look back, I don’t thing we really nailed it. I think we may have come off as a little too cold, too sterile and distant, and a bit too much of an odd “think” piece. In a way, kind of like the graphic novel was. The allegorical nature didn’t poke through as much as it should have. It wasn’t the kind of scary “Oh my god, they’re talking about terrorists, not aliens.” There were some things that didn’t come through and I don’t think it was directing and I sure hope it wasn’t the script. I think we probably needed to cast it a little differently.

Neely: Did this get close to getting picked up?

David: It was terribly close. We had Craig saying “As God is my witness, this is going to be on the schedule.” I think he meant it, I don’t think he was bullshitting. There was a tremendous amount of support for it; it was back and forth and back and forth and back and forth; it got recut and recut and recut trying to get better picks. I know that it was just one of those things where the people at the network who had been involved in its development were terribly in support of it and willing to throw themselves on grenades to get it done. Those who had not been involved in its development but knew about it were kind of going “What the hell is wrong with you people?” They thought it was just weird. In television sometimes you get on the schedule anyway because they’re willing to take a flyer – and sometimes not. I know that at that time they were in discussions about Peter Liguouri moving upstairs and Kevin Reilly coming over. There were internal discussions obviously taking place about management shifts and maybe if that hadn’t been happening we might have gotten on. In that unstable atmosphere I don’t think they were going to take a flyer on something they thought was so obscure.

Neely: I looked up what Fox put on the air in the 2007-2008 broadcast season, and they premiered 2 dramas – “Prison Break,” which was a hit and “K-Ville,” which wasn’t. Pity.

Digressing for a moment into something trivial – Ezekial is always eating pie.  What is that supposed to reveal or indicate?  Is it a humorous reference to “eating to forget,” “eating because you’re depressed,” “eating because you’re happy,” “eating because you’re bored” (as you can see I’m an expert on this topic) or he just likes pie?

David: Mac might have had different perspective on this one, but as I recall, and it may have actually been in the graphic novel, it was just to have a random addiction – the more random the better in order to make the point that it wasn’t necessarily to be about any particular idea. It was just to be the notion that we have things on Planet Earth that are yummy and good and fun and if you didn’t have the mechanism to control yourself you might become addicted to that. Pie was just silly and arbitrary and worked.

Neely: Are there any other plans for this brilliant script?  Do you have the rights to make a feature, because it would make a fabulous feature? Could you interest Fox in giving you back those rights or working with you on a feature project?

David: We actually haven’t discussed this. Mac went off to do “In Plain Sight” and I went off to “Caprica,” and neither of us has even had two minutes to think about what new we might do next or when or if we’ll work together again; I like to think that Mac and I will. I hadn’t really thought much about the pilot until you called me wanting to talk about “Them.” It reminded me that it got a lot of people’s attention and that doesn’t happen very often. Maybe it is worth kicking the tires again whether it’s remaking the pilot or trying to get the right topic for a feature.

Neely: Well, of course, one of the primary reasons I started the blog was how frustrated I am that you can write something fantastic and if it doesn’t get on the air that year it’s dead forever, unlike the situation in feature films.  You worked on “The Philanthropist” which NBC touted as the first (of what was supposed to be many) international co-financed co-production.  “Them” seems like the perfect international co-production. If you can’t get it back on the air here, go to the rights holder and say “Hey, let’s set this up with an international partner, either with German television (they’re wild about sci-fi) or even British TV – do this over there and make it a hit over there as an English language production and bring it back. Or do it as a co-production in New Zealand or Australia (and then you could hire Cliff Curtis as Cain who was so ill-used on “Trauma”).

David: It’s so funny that you mention Cliff Curtis. When I was working for Sam Raimi we saw a New Zealand movie called “Once Were Warriors” starring Cliff Curtis and from that film we cast him as a Centaur in “Hercules,” which we were filming in New Zealand. And he was magnificent, if you can imagine using that word when referring to “Hercules” – but he was it. Anyway, one of the reasons that really prevented us from pursuing Fox was because Kevin Reilly was the guy who came in and ultimately made the decision not to pick up “Them.” So it’s sort of feels like a well we’ve already been to. I kind of feel that we’re going to need a different regime at Fox or do a feature or take it to a different network. Going back to Fox would be a non-starter. There were a brief series of meetings with Kevin and his new team to talk about remaking the pilot, and Mac did a rewrite to try to accommodate their notes but it just withered and died. So, that’s why not Fox. But somewhere else…sure.

Neely: You probably have to go to Fox first because they produced the pilot and own all of the rights, but go to them and say “here’s what we want to do; we want to take it someplace else, you’ll have an ownership interest, it won’t reflect on you if it fails and it will reflect on you if it succeeds. Why don’t you let us try this; let us do something different here.”

David: I think that at the times when Mac and I could have brought it up we were just too crazy busy to get into a deeper conversation. Mac is steelier and more inclined to say “No, dammit, we failed so let’s take our failure like men. Don’t go sniveling backwards and begging them to give you another chance to fail again.” Whereas I’m much more pathetic. I’m more inclined to say “Oh come on, let’s just ask one more time. Are you sure you don’t want this?”

Neely: But it wasn’t a failure. It just wasn’t the new team’s vision. That happens with features all the time. But in any case, NBC’s idea of co-financing co-productions with an international company was a good idea; they just didn’t know how to do it, or they picked the wrong project. At the root, it’s a very good idea. Present this idea to your agent, Paul Haas; he’s one of the best in the biz. Let him sell it.

David: When Mac comes up for air, I’m sure this will be one of the first conversations we have.

Neely: How did you get started in TV and what propelled you to the next level?

David: Two key things happened. First I got a job as an assistant to Richard Lindheim who was the number two executive at Universal Network TV back in 1990. This was during Kerry McCluggage’s regime. I got to go to all the meetings and meet everybody and second, two of the people I got to meet were Sam Raimi and Rob Tapert who had just done this movie called “Darkman” which the TV side of Universal thought could invoke a television sensibility so they signed Sam and Rob to a TV deal. Soon after, Kerry and Dick, my boss departed for Paramount and Dick sort of left me on Sam and Rob’s doorstep on the way out. Sam and Rob knew me and they had this new TV deal and they agreed to let me spearhead launching a new company. All of a sudden I was thrown in the deep end of the Sam Raimi pool and that was the next key thing that happened to me. From there, 6 years later, I left to do a Kamakazi experiment and run development for USA Network and the SciFi Channel under Steven Chao and Barry Diller. But in that 6 year period with Sam and Rob we put 6 shows on the air. So before I became an executive, I’d had a lot of producing experience under my belt thanks to Sam and Rob. I was an executive for about 2 ½ years and hated it and went back to producing. That was when David Kissinger talked to me about “Battlestar Galactica”

Neely: You mean you started as an assistant and moved from there to running Sam Raimi’s company?

David: Sam and Rob were Indie filmmakers and they didn’t know the bureaucracy. Where they came from in Detroit, if you wanted to be a producer you produced. You don’t spend 7 years getting coffee, you just do it. So their philosophy to me was “If you want to do it, then do it. Go out find something, get something together and we’ll produce it.” So I did. I find it a shame that the entrepreneurial spirit of that environment doesn’t exist more often. I suppose there’s a place for hierarchy and NBC pages and PAs, but there’s something to be said about being shoved into an editing room and being told you can’t come out until you make the pilot work. It was a great opportunity, a great experience. We got a lot of stuff on, not all of it good, but we got stuff on and I learned how to be a producer while I was being a producer.

Neely: David Kissinger gave you “Battlestar.” Was that as a production executive or as a writer?

David: I had just left USA and SciFi as an executive, and in planning to leave I spoke to David and told him my intentions. Having known me as a producer long before I became an exec, he very kindly helped orchestrate the transition of my exec deal back into a producing deal. But the pilot I did with Shawn Cassidy didn’t end up on the air. So here I was, out of a job and the phone rang and it was David. He said, “Someday you’ll look back on this conversation and remember that it got you your house in the south of France.” I didn’t know what he was talking about and he proceeded to tell me that they had had this crash and burn experience with Bryan Singer at Fox where they had tried to do an update of “Battlestar Galactica.” There was a script but that Gail (Berman) didn’t like it, and Bryan had to leave the project and go do “X-Men 2.” Was I interested in taking it over?” I said “Yes and no. Yes I’d like to take over developing the title and no I’m not interested in that script.” And he said, “Fine, I don’t care. We’ll do it in house, move it to SciFi instead of Fox. Gail let it go, so have at it.” And so I set about looking for a writer and the rest is history. That was a great opportunity.

Neely: At what point did you decide you wanted to write?

David: I had developed a couple of pilots, but I always felt it was my obligation as an executive and producer that when I got a writer in the room I needed to have an idea, a property, or something that I could pitch to the writer, not the other way around. I was always looking through magazine articles, personality profiles, newspaper stories and I would hire writers; but I found that they just didn’t do it or want to do it the way I wanted to do it. At a certain point my agent Paul called me and said “Dude, you’ve got to stop bitching and moaning. If you want to be that specific or that exacting about how you want to do something, then do it yourself.” I spoke to my partner Ron Moore and said I wanted to write an episode and we agreed that probably the best way to approach it was for me to write a story first and have someone else do the teleplay. I did that the first year of “Battlestar” and the next year I wrote a full episode, and then the next year another one. I developed “Bionic Woman” and wrote one of those; and then I co-wrote “Them” with Mac.

Neely: What an unusual journey. Why did you want to be in this crazy business in the first place?

David: I saw “Dirty Harry” when I was 7 years old and it completely traumatized me. The only way my Mom was able to calm me down was to explain that they were just pretending; and something about the idea that you could pretend for a living was like shooting a bullet into my forehead. From there I became an actor and I directed theater in college.  I graduated from the University of Redlands which was the only school in Southern California I could get into. My first job, as I mentioned previously, was with Dick Lenheim at Universal TV. I knew a lot about theater and a lot about films, but I didn’t know shit about TV. But he hired me anyway and that was my break.

Neely: Now you’re on “Caprica,” correct?

David: Yeah, my new show is “Caprica” the prequel to “Battlestar.” They’ve aired the first half and will air the second half sometime in the Fall or in the Winter; we don’t know yet. There’s much discussion about season 2.

Neely: Are you showrunning “Caprica”?

David: Yes, but I’m not the head writer. When “Caprica” was starting up, I was the head writer/showrunner of “The Philanthropist.” Katherine (Pope), who had brought me on to replace Tom Fontana, was then replaced (actually re-replaced) by Angela Bromstad who was the exec who had originally bought the show from Tom. Angela came to me and said “Look, you’ve got your own show on the air and Tom’s got his show, which you are doing, why don’t you just go and do your show and let Tom come back and do his show.” And I said fine. I’m on a deal here so it kind of doesn’t matter which show I’m working on. It made sense for me to do my own show as opposed to an inherited one. Tom came back to “The Philanthropist” and I went back to “Caprica”…

Neely: And you got the better deal.

David: And on “Caprica” we already had a writing apparatus in place.

Neely: Is Ron Moore also on “Caprica”?

David: He is. He has been busy lately writing movies so we didn’t work together in quite the same way as we did on “Battlestar.” The important thing was that he was there at the beginning, co-wrote the pilot with Remi Aubuchon, and directed one of the early episodes. Ron was very involved in the genesis.

Neely: What are you working on now?

David: I’m working on another pilot called “Awakening” for HBO. Guillermo del Toro and I are co-writing the story and I’m going to write the teleplay.

Neely: David, I really appreciate you taking the time with me. I know that you worked hard to fit me into your schedule and please thank you assistant Tara for helping to make it happen.  Good luck on your pilot and please give John my best regards.

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