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.

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.”

May 5, 2010

“I heard some good news today. The FBI and the CIA are going to start cooperating. They are going to start working together. And if you don’t know the difference between the FBI and the CIA, the FBI bungles domestic crime, the CIA bungles foreign crime.” —David Letterman

“The Domestic Front” by David M. Stern

What: A terrorist plot to bomb the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC is suspected and The Agency has planted a group in the suburbs to uncover it.

Who: “Harry, our extremely good natured, average, everyman hero, pops a disc in his portable DVD player. A shadowy authority figure appears on the screen.”

Shadowy Authority Figure: Good afternoon Harry. As you know, the Agency has discovered a mole. We are calling the mole ‘X.’ All we know about X is that he, or she, lives in Chevy Chase, MD. A quaint suburb of the nation’s capital. You are to live in this neighborhood until such time as X’s identity is determined. Here is your new address.

As a picture of the house is shown on the DVD, Harry blinks and accidentally pops out a contact lens.

Harry: Wait a minute. I didn’t get that –

Shadowy Authority Figure: Agent 14-Q17 will front as your wife, Honey. Agent 14-A23 will be your teenage son, Kip. Here are the secret codes for entrance to the house –

As Harry fumbles for his saline solution he knocks the compact DVD player to the ground, the DVD skips.

Shadowy Authority Figure (Cont.): …24 – Q. Well, that should cover it. Good luck, Harry. This tape will self destruct in five seconds.

The DVD self destructs.

Harry: Well, this should be interesting.

Needless to say, the missing information was somewhat critical to his acceptance by his new “wife” Honey, a martial arts bombshell who attacks him the moment he walks through the door without using the “secret knock.” Honey washed out of more active operations because she lost her touch – she is no longer able to chop her way through 4 to 1 odds, only 3 to 1 odds; her hammering of Harry would indicate she hasn’t lost much of her touch.  Kip, their fake teenage son, is actually 27 and has been a teenager for the last 14 years, a role that is beginning to wear him down.

On his first day on the job Harry is picked up by his carpool – the other agents assigned to the undercover task:

Chief drives the car, Harry rides shotgun. Two other spies ride in the back.

Chief: Good morning Harry. And welcome to our little team. We might not be James Bond but we like to think we can do a little spying. I’m Dick –

Phil: I’m Phil.

Phil2: I’m…also Phil.

Harry: Two Phil’s? That’s a little confusing.

Phil: Tell me about it.

Phil2: Slight glitch in the phony name assignments.

Chief: We decided it was easier to live with it than go through Agency paperwork. How’s the fake marriage working out?

Harry: Fine, fine. Kip is a sweet kid…well, man, I guess. He’s 27 right?

Chief: In March, yes. And the wife?

Harry: Who Honey? She’s…

Phil: Uh oh.

Phil2: The big pause.

Harry: No, it’s fine. She’s just a little high strung. She’ll get the hang of it.

Chief: Consider yourself lucky. I’m married twenty years to a woman who still doesn’t know I’m a spy.

Phil: She also thinks you like her cooking.

Chief: I don’t know which lie is harder to keep up.

All the spies except Harry laugh at the Chief’s joke.

Harry: I just hope we are compatible. Me and Honey I mean.

Chief: Don’t worry about that. You two were specifically put together because there was a very low probability of anything developing sexually.

No one in Harry’s fake family is quite satisfied with his or her present position – Honey wants back in the field, closer to hand-to-hand combat; Kip would like to be a real spy, if only so he doesn’t have to take Geometry ever again, and, more importantly, so he can win the fair Honey; and Harry wants nothing more than to be an inventor, instead of an insurance salesman.  When Harry announces his ambition to the Chief, he is greeted with suspicion; suspicion that may get him terminated in all senses of the word. It is, however, this very desire to pursue one of his inventions – an alarm clock tied into a coffee machine with a refrigerated cream dispenser that begins its brewing cycle when the snooze button is hit – that leads Harry to uncover the perpetrators of the plot to blow up the Lincoln Memorial.

No Meaner Place: Our view of spydom is predicated on the very serious James Bond, Bourne, and Le Carré novels; or the hilarious – Mr. Bean, Agent OSS 117, or Austin Powers. “The Domestic Front” is clearly of the slapstick variety, hewing closely to a deadpan “Get Smart.”  But Harry isn’t nearly as dumb as he looks and doesn’t seem to be entirely in on the joke.  He’s the smart guy everyone, including himself, underestimates; the guy who has dreams and aspirations just out of his grasp but, like most of the rest of us, keeps on keeping on – an everyday hero.  And it is this very “ordinariness” that keeps “The Domestic Front” grounded, for even though everyone surrounding Harry is a buffoon, Harry actually isn’t and it’s what makes this pilot smarter than the average bear (a misplaced cartoon reference). Even within the slapstick and ludicrous situations there is the melancholy that resides in Harry as he unravels the mysteries. Harry wants to think and live outside the box, but the box has been constructed of kryptonite and he’s Clark Kent.

I am always astonished at the comedy choices made by networks, as much by the ones they choose as the ones they don’t. There was plenty for them to love in the format and characters; and the stories didn’t necessarily have to follow mystery-of-the-week because the characters were so strong and much could be developed on the strictly “domestic” front as Kip and Honey try to perfect and expand their roles.

Life Lessons for Writers: How much better life would be if network executives understood a Cone of Comedy instead of a Cone of Silence.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: I’ve known about you for a long time; of course that sounds really creepy, doesn’t it.

David: I saw the email and I was really floored by how much you knew. I’m flattered and thrilled that anyone read “Domestic Front” and I even saw reference to “About Face.”  I couldn’t believe you knew about that one – it seems to be you and about seven other people.

Neely: You’re such a great comedic voice. I remember in the mid 90s seeing your name at Fox. Did you have a writer Overall there?

David: After I finished my producing Overall, I went into a Castle Rock Overall and then I went to Fox, so it may well have been at that time. And as a matter of fact I even had a meeting with David Kelley at some point during that stint. Perhaps you were working at his office then.

Neely: It’s possible. I actually remember creating a “David Stern” file. You’ve always had the right “screwy” voice for him.

David: I was still obsessed with “The Wonder Years” at that time, which had been my first gig, and pitched some kind of strange screwball “Wonder Years” concept. I remember him liking it but I have no idea what happened after that – just one of those things.  It’s what happens in Overall Deals – a lot of meetings and conversations and cool stuff that flies around. Whether or not it ever amounts to anything is another story entirely.

Neely: Well you did get to write a crazy schizophrenic pilot out of one of the Overalls.

David: “About Face”? I did that one after that Fox deal. It was actually on a blind script deal for HIP which was HBO’s development arm at the time. I’ve written a lot of pilots that I’ve been very pleased with and got paid plenty for but didn’t get them made. It’s frustrating and that’s kind of the crux of what you’re asking about.

Neely: That kind of frustration leads right into “Domestic Front.” This was one of those scripts that I read when I was doing development for David Kelley and never forgot it.  It falls within the realm of a traditional sitcom, which some people may find slightly old fashioned, but it plays on a number of subtle psychological factors (bringing us back to “About Face”) – especially melancholy – that give it a subversive touch of depth. What triggered this?

David: Maybe I’m just a melancholy guy… I don’t know. I’m always looking for something interesting. Comic leads are the hardest and most nuanced parts to write. They can’t just be wild and crazy, they have a show to carry; and yet you don’t want them to be just responders. It’s a very narrow palette of colors to paint with for the lead comic voice. On “Domestic Front” I imagined myself as an actual spy undercover in this situation and it felt claustrophobic but funny. I thought if I could give him that little curl of wanting to be an inventor, to be something more, you’d feel it. That goes along with what I mean by a narrow palette – a little attitude goes a long way with the lead comic voice. We don’t want too strange a lead; we do want him to be relatable, and melancholy is a part of human existence.

Neely: Was this going to be single cam or multi?

David: It was written at a time when HIP was looking for multi-camera shows. They had the “Louie” show coming out and it was a tiny bubble of time when HBO was trying to develop 4 camera shows. It was designed for 4 camera, but I feel that show in particular could easily have been adapted to single camera or animation.

Neely: It’s like you’re reading my mind because a bit later on I was going to ask you if you had ever thought of repurposing this into an animated series. Obviously, you had thought of all the different permutations.

David: Yeah. You know it never felt right. I thought, “Really? You guys want to do 4 camera? Okay, I’ll believe it when I see it.” And sure enough, they didn’t. They never really had a plan. They were never going to put this on HBO so we went around to all the networks; but at that time the networks were all exclusively about one camera comedy. Nobody bit. Even though it was designed as a multi-cam, it still would have been a challenge.  This pilot was never shot, but I did a pilot before this that was shot, called “Manhattan Man” about a family of super heroes.

Neely: Oh my god!  You did that?  The one where Ken Howard played the lead? I read that script when I was an assistant and I thought it was the funniest script that I had ever read and I could visualize it on the page. On top of that, I loved the way the filmed pilot turned out! What the hell happened to that???

David: Good question. I don’t know.

Neely: It was brilliant!

David: Thank you.  I was really proud of that one. I thought for sure it was going to go. I have no idea.  I think that they had just signed all these very expensive deals at the time and I guess I was lower on the food chain. They had other priorities. I felt it was political because everyone I knew at the time had the same response – “this thing is really funny.” But it didn’t go.  I really got a taste on that one – it was another high concept that I did for 4 camera and I really got a taste for trying to do outrageous things on a stage. I thought “Domestic Front” would have been another one like that.

Neely: This season, one of the pilots in contention for series pickup is called “No Ordinary Family” about members of a family who develop different super powers. It’s written as a one hour and lacks focus and humor. All I could think about when I was reading it was, “Whatever happened to ‘Manhattan Man’?”

David: Well, at this point in time, I’m just glad to have a show. I spent a lot of time in different development deals, developing pilots I was thrilled about but didn’t get made. Now I’m just interested in getting things made.

Neely: I don’t know what to say. I loved the stuff that didn’t get made. I’m looking forward to seeing the show you did get on the air – your animated show called “Ugly Americans.”

David: “Ugly Americans” is for Comedy Central. It’s a peculiar show about a social worker in New York City helping humans and non-humans assimilate into the country.

Neely: Changing focus slightly… Either on this or on some of your other shows, what were you influences? You have a fertile imagination, but even the most fertile imaginations are usually fed by other things.

David: In terms of other shows? TV I was influenced by? Literary? In TV, maybe it’s just fresh in my mind since we’re talking about “Domestic Front,” but I was a big “Get Smart” fan as a kid.  What’s cool is that my father’s name is Leonard Stern, and Leonard Stern was one of the Executive Producers on the show. I used to walk around telling people that that was my dad. They say all young writers are plagiarists and I started with a fake father. Maybe that’s where “Domestic Front” came from.

I also loved “The Andy Griffith Show;” I loved the expansion of the world of that show. I always felt that “The Simpsons” was influenced by “The Andy Griffith Show.” On one it’s Mayberry and on the other it’s Springfield. On “The Andy Griffith Show” they could take a full episode telling me who Floyd the Barber was and I’d be interested.  That’s incredibly rare. Most shows are driven by the power of the lead, and even though Andy would always be involved, the world of Mayberry expanded out so far. You really bought that world. I really believed there was a place called Mayberry. A similar major influence was “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.” Same reason – there wasn’t a second that I didn’t think I wasn’t in a newsroom, easily allowing me to suspend my disbelief. This is a hard thing to do and takes real discipline or maybe passion to accomplish what you’re trying to say, to sell the authenticity of your world.  And, by the way, going back to “Get Smart,” as funny as it was, I bought that there was C.O.N.T.R.O.L. and C.H.A.O.S. I completely bought the world. And Mel Brooks proved to be the ultimate master of what I’m talking about. In his movies, take “Young Frankenstein,” for instance, he sold it – it wasn’t just Frankenstein gags; he sold the world.

Neely: And “The Producers.” I still believe in the world of “The Producers.” That world is absolutely realistic. It happens all the time; it’s just that in real life it’s not funny.

David: It’s commitment; full commitment to what you’re doing is the key, really taking your world seriously and not selling out for a cheap joke. If it doesn’t fit into that world, then don’t do it. Those little disciplines make all the difference to me as a fan. As soon as you pop that bubble, as soon as you sell out – I’ve done it plenty, so don’t get me wrong – you’ve lost the audience.

Neely: Did you have any mentors in the business?

David: Neal Marlens and Carol Black gave me my start on “The Wonder Years” and they were brilliant brilliant people.  I loved them and love them still. They were fantastic.  I remember that I was 23, had just arrived in town and I read the pilot script and was blown away. So I banged out a spec script as quickly as I could and sent it to them. They responded to it immediately. The pilot hadn’t even been shot yet and that’s how I got my first gig. I was on the show for the first three seasons.

Neely: You know that that breaks all the rules – you’re never supposed to submit a spec for the show you want to work on.

David: I would put a major caveat on that theory. The time to write a spec is immediately when there are not piles of scripts, and make it good … I caught them so early. The pilot hadn’t been shot yet and they had a 6 episode commitment. If you’re already on the air, then millions of people are clamoring to get on your show. But if no one knows who you are and you have a 6 episode commitment, or 13 or 22 – This doesn’t apply to a guy like David Kelley, who’s so prolific it’s insane; he just seems to squirt these things out like water – but for most of us it’s a serious chore. So when they had 6 episodes to come up with, they were thinking “Crap, I need something.” And my script appeared and they thought “Wait a minute. We can actually use this.” They needed help. That would be my major exception to that rule. If you can get on when people actually need your help and you can deliver the goods –that’s another way to get in.

Neely: Let’s talk about reading and writing a bit. Are there any literary figures exerting influence on your work? What do you read for fun?

David: When I get time off from work I sit quietly. Quite frankly, what I really read is news – I just go online these days. I’m not even reading a book, unfortunately; so I spend my time as a news/political junkie flipping around Huffington Post, the Washington Post and other sites. It’s weird, but maybe it’s because I spend so much of my time dancing around in my imagination that I find facts and news and non-fiction to be the most interesting or relieving – it’s the biggest escape, in a strange way.  I like to escape my crazy head with actual facts.

Neely: Going back to “Domestic Front,” how far into the process did this one get?

David: I made a bad deal on that script. I should have been able to predict from the beginning that I wasn’t going to get any traction. It was HIP and they weren’t going to put it on HBO. We went hat in hand to the networks; it just wasn’t the right approach. What I’m really proud of is the response I’ve gotten from it. I was up for a staff job on “Andy Barker, P.I.” for Conaco, Conan’s company, and David Kissinger read it and loved it. I didn’t get the gig, but he did option “Domestic Front” for Conaco. They didn’t do anything with it because it’s that age old dilemma – once a pilot has been through the process, it’s dead.

Neely: Well, that’s why I started the blog. I don’t understand why that is and wish someone, someday, will realize that such waste is crazy.

David: That whole process is insane. This cyclical “out with the old and in with the new” where nobody wants to touch the “old” because it’s somebody else’s discard. It’s just silly and wasteful. The Features side doesn’t do that.  Stuff can kick around and switch around and still get made eventually. But in pilots – once somebody passes, it’s like a leper.

Neely: I’m trying to say, “Hey there’s a lot of really great stuff that’s out there that’s better than any of the crap you’re looking at now. Why aren’t you looking at this stuff again?” I suppose this is part of my quixotic nature, tilting at windmills.

David: Keep tilting. I hope people listen.

Neely: What kind of notes or comments came at you?

David: It was silence. I suppose it’s the ultimate compliment. It felt like people didn’t have anything to say. When I was pitching it, even pitching it to CBS, which, at the time was an incredibly conservative comedy development team, I was killing them in the room; and I walked out of that room and turned to Harvey Myman, my Executive Producer at the time, and said “They’re not going to buy that.” Everybody loved it and nobody wanted to buy it because it didn’t fit into the incredibly narrow comic model that everyone had decided they wanted. I don’t know why people box themselves into corners like this.

Neely: Okay, so we know that no one is willing to revisit, and you had already considered animation, which makes sense since you did, after all, have a long stint on “The Simpsons.”  How about setting this up as a small, inexpensive and hilarious feature.  Have you given that possibility any thought?

David: You want to produce it?  Hey let’s go.

Neely: I wish I had the backers.  But could you see this as a feature?

David: You asked what do I read for pleasure and what I watch for pleasure, but the truth is that movies, for me, are “play” and television is something I’ve worked at. It’s sort of a variation of “I’m officially in the kitchen, so I don’t eat in the restaurant.” I’ve always left Features off to the side. I just enjoy movies – I go and I watch them and love them and am dazzled by them and I don’t understand how people put 2 hour storylines together. It blows my mind a bit. That said I’m now willing to venture into that world. However, and it’s a big however, I just got 14 more scripts picked up for “Ugly Americans.” I just got through my first run and they just piled 14 more on top, which is great news but it also means, “Do I have time to do a feature? Nah, I don’t think so, not right now.”

Neely: So you have considered features. Do you have any feature ideas percolating in your head?

David: I’ve got tons of them and I’ve written a couple. Again, a couple that I’m really pleased and proud of that just didn’t go anywhere. I’d come off “The Wonder Years” and “The Simpsons” and everyone seemed to like what I was doing and they were offering me these great Overall Deals. And I jumped in writing things that I really liked. The truth of the matter is that I jumped into the world of development too early. The sober truth is that everybody always seems to like my stuff just fine, my creativity and imagination, but I never quite had the juice back then to get my stuff made. I’m realizing that now, so I’m really pleased to have a show on the air, (a) because I really like the show and it’s fun and (b) because it was always the missing element that I never paid attention to before. It’ll give me the power, when I actually have the time, to get my features made. When I had the time, nobody seemed remotely interested.

Neely: This brings up an interesting comment by Michael Hanel, who at that time was an executive in Comedy Development at Fox (now he’s partnered with Mindy Schultheis in their own production company, Acme Productions). He said that nothing ruins a good writer faster than going into development too early.

David: Michael was one of the people who helped me develop “Manhattan Man.” And I have to say, I’m hardly ruined.

Neely: Of course not, but you understand the process enough to know that it didn’t just involve writing, it also involved working the system so that you could get those things you loved produced, and, as you pointed out, that was something you didn’t know how to do.

As we’ve noted, you do have an interesting skew on things.  Tell me something about the schizophrenic, “About Face.” How did that come about and what happened to it?

David: That was another blind script that I sold to Fox – Tracy Katsky, an executive at the time, bought it in the room.  I have to say that Sandy Grushow wasn’t thrilled about it, but Tracy was a big fan. I wrote it up, but ultimately, even though she loved it, she didn’t want to go that strange. Of anybody, Fox should go as wild as they can. That’s another one that sits on the sidelines that I’d love to develop as a feature one of these days.

Neely: Let’s talk a bit about you.  What brought you out here in the first place?

David: I’m from Chevy Chase, Maryland, outside of DC and from an early age I was a TV junkie. I think one advantage that I had over other people was that I didn’t come out here to get into entertainment; I came here specifically to be a sitcom writer. I was an English, not a film, major at Ithaca College, but was already writing scripts on my own. My first year out of college I had a handful of specs ready – having written them off the television screen, trying to learn the format. I wrote a “Family Ties,” a “Cheers,” a “Perfect Strangers.” I would have done anything; I was driven. I came out and got a job as a production assistant and on my first day on that job I met a guy named Mike Becker, a still photographer at the time who was good friends with Neal and Carol. He introduced me to them and so it went.  They were coming up with “Wonder Years,” and I wrote a spec based on the as yet unproduced pilot and sold it to them. Like I said, I was lucky in that I always knew what I was going to do – for some reason I just knew that sitcoms were going to be it for me.

Neely: What got you your first agent?

David: “Wonder Years.” Once I made that sale, it was amazing how casual it all was.

Neely: It’s amazing how easy it is to get a job once you have a job.

David: Well that’s it. Neal and Carol asked if I had an agent and I said no, and they asked if I would like theirs. I said sure. That was that.  They were with Leading Artists at the time. I started with Marty Adelstein and moved to Robb Rothman. And then Robb jumped out and formed his own agency and I followed.

Neely: I know that now you’re with CAA, but that you’re still close to Robb.

David: How much do you know about my life??

Neely: I have to keep a few things secret. It is amazing when you start digging, how many people in common you end up having.

David: It’s a small town, isn’t it?

Neely: It’s a very small town.  David, I don’t want to keep you because I know you’re really really busy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time with me.

Do you work here in LA?

David: I work in Santa Monica, and am living in Ocean Park. I work 5 minutes away from home and that ain’t too bad. I love Ocean Park, I really do. I’m at 3rd and am looking out at the beach right now.

Neely: See, there are still wonderful things about scripts that don’t get made. They still end up paying for wonderful views.

David: You’re right. That’s what I’m saying. In terms of getting a show on the air, I don’t know; I’m not sure I was ever in that much of a rush, anyway. Right now, at this point, I have a show, I’ve got a really strong handle on my craft and I’ve got plenty of dough.  Everything is just fine. And maybe, just maybe, we can circle back and get some of these other things made.

I just love that you love some of my faves. I love these scripts and I hope you have success in convincing the industry to make shows they believe in and not just whatever is hot in November.

Neely: Thank you so much David. This was so much fun for me.

Neely can be reached at neely@nomeanerplace.com

April 14, 2010

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, A beautiful day for a neighbor. Would you be mine? Could you be mine?” – Mr. Rogers

Filed under: Conversations With, Flebotte, Pilots, Pilots not produced, Writers — Tags: , , — Neely Swanson @ 10:23 am

“Goody – These are the People in my Neighborhood” by Dave Flebotte

What: Goody Valetta, the original Goody, opened a deli in the North End of Boston in 1954; in 1962 he added espresso to the menu and it became the place where locals and tourists alike came to gather.

Who: Goody Valetta, the grandson of the founder, now runs Goody’s with the help of his mother Sylvia, his acerbic sister Terry, and father John; but Goody is the heart and soul around whom everyone gathers. He’s warm and direct, generous and takes no prisoners.  His circle of friends range from Tommy, a general factotum for the Irish Mob run by Taffy (so named because at one time he pulled off one of the ears of a rival as though he were pulling taffy); his charmingly immature cousin and roommate Pete; Sid, a New York lawyer new to the neighborhood; and Paulie, friend from childhood who adds just the right touch of sleazy on the make Italian stereotype to the group.

Paulie: Hey! Who’s the (bleep) who double parked his Mercedes out front?

Goody gets up to calm him.

Goody: Hey, hey… Paulie…

Paulie: Hey nothing, Goody. I’m sick of people moving into our neighborhood and being rude. A little respect, huh?

An attractive woman approaches. Hot, early 30’s.

Woman: I’m sorry… Did I block you in?

Paulie (taken aback) No… It’s just…

Woman: I thought I could get in and out quick. I’ll move it right now—

Paulie: No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry. (Beat) I thought you were gonna be ugly.

She exits. They both watch her. When she’s gone Goody slaps Paulie on the back of the head.

Goody: Don’t ever talk to my customers like that. EVER.

They sit with the guys. Paulie is still watching her leave.

Paulie: You think she’s seeing anybody?

Sid: What’s it to you?

Paulie: Oh what, Sid, you don’t think I can get with her just cause I’m not a big shot lawyer like you?

Pete: No, because look at you and look at her. Her: business suit, stylish hair, manicured nails. You: greased back hair, gold chain and enough cologne on to mitigate every other smell in this deli and we’re like two feet from the salami case.

Goody: It’s true Paulie. You ever meet an Italian stereotype you didn’t like? All you need is a ring of sausages around your neck and your fly undone and you could be our Italian Buddha.

Into Goody’s deli, and he hopes in some way his life, walks the pretty Lisa, a new neighbor who has just moved in across the street.  Too realistic about his looks to hold out any real hope of gaining anything but Lisa’s friendship, they, nevertheless are oddly attracted to the kindness each senses in the other and a shared love of Opera. That they can still sense a budding kinship even after Goody’s father has a heart to heart with Lisa is nothing short of miraculous:

John: You like my son?

Lisa: Goody? Yeah, he’s a great guy.

John: No, no, no, no. Do you like him?

Lisa: Don’t you think you’re being a bit presumptuous Mr. Valetta?

John: No. (then) My son hasn’t had a date in three years. There’s a woman out there though. And I don’t want him tearing himself up over something he’ll never get so that he misses her when she does show up. So why don’t you give the guy a break and get your kicks elsewhere.

And complications continue to entangle his friends when Tommy learns that Pete has stiffed Taffy of several large on a debt repayment. Pete will need to learn a lesson and Tommy has been instructed by Taffy to teach it – break Pete’s thumb and obtain title to Pete’s one and only possession – his Mustang.  If Tommy doesn’t break Pete’s thumb, then Taffy will send over a goon to break both of Pete’s legs.  A veritable Hobson’s choice.

No Meaner Place: Flebotte has an uncanny ability in setting the scene and fully developing the character of the protagonist  in the cold open:

Angle on Goody Valetta, mid 30’s, overweight, pleasant enough looking, kinda boyish but not exactly eye candy. A young guy in a suit is at the front of the line.

Young Guy: I’ll have a half caff mocha latte whip to go please.

Goody: No.

Young Guy: Pardon?

Goody: You don’t want that.

Young Guy: I think I know what I want.

Goody: Trust me on this.

Young Guy: Am I going to get a coffee or what?

Goody: “Coffee?” Yes! You are definitely going to get coffee. But there’s no coffee in what you said. Let’s break it down. “Half caff” that would connote that you want decaf which I don’t believe in. It’s like getting a flu shot and telling them to fill the syringe with water. Don’t carry the stuff anyway. Okay. “Mocha.” You want chocolate let me make you a nice cocoa. “Latte” – milk. Lots of milk. Another unnecessary agent added to the coffee to rob it of its original essence. And “whipped cream”? (Shakes his head) I’d slap my own mother if she put whipped cream on a cup of coffee. Isn’t that right, Ma?

Sylvia Valetta, Goody’s mom, sixties, plump, she works behind the counter part time, comes with a to-go cup and hands it to Goody.

Sylvia: (Flatly) It’s true. He’s a bastard.

She crosses off. Hands the to-go cup to the guy.

Goody: Here. This is a double shot of some of the finest Italian Roast espresso with a dab of steamed milk foam. Enjoy.

Young Guy: But that’s not what I want…

Goody: I don’t give people what they want. I give them what they deserve. And you deserve good Italian Roast. It’s on the house.

Sylvia crosses back with a small bag.

Goody: Here’s a couple biscotti. That’ll take care of the sweet tooth. Okay. I’m done with you.

The audience knows everything about Goody’s values, warmth, and personality within this short first scene.  Circumstance and situation will fill in all the rest of the details as time goes on; but from the very outset we know, like and admire Goody.  That his friends are “types” takes nothing away from the rich nougat center of this piece. All comedy is dependent on character and characters, and Flebotte has provided both in spades.  NBC picked up a number of dramas and comedies in 2005-2006, the season they chose not to produce this pilot.  With “Will and Grace” in its final year, and as two of the three comedy pilots that were picked up to series tanked almost immediately, one would have thought that they might have hedged their bets a bit better and at least kept this one on a back burner.  More importantly, why is there an expiration date on television pilot scripts?

Life Lessons for Writers: Shelf life is important when it comes to milk, not writing.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: Thank you so much for talking to me and taking time from the writers’ room at “Desperate Housewives.”  When we most recently spoke you mentioned that most of the last script was thrown out and that you guys had to scramble to get something completed for the shoot that started today.

Dave: We do that every week; it’s just now we’re on the last two episodes and because it’s the end of the season the stakes are higher. If you rip out one little thing then you rip up everything, and then the Network has contradictory thoughts. It’s crazy. I’m actually just taking a break from it right now

Neely: Well we’re actually here to discuss your pilot “Goody.” I’ve loved this script for years and could not believe it was never produced as a pilot. I know that “Goody” was all set for production; the cast was in place and the best ½ hour director in the business, James Burrows, had been attached.  This allegedly didn’t go forward because of a cast contingency.  What was the network looking for?

Dave: We really had everything in place, but it was a bunch of things. We had Will Sasso who was all right as our star but he was in second position for our show. We were supposed to shoot in late April, early May but ABC wouldn’t let him out so Kevin Reilly, who was head of programming at NBC at the time, said we should just push and shoot it in June. And I said to Kevin that my fear was that he’d come back from the upfronts satisfied with his slate and not care about this because he would have all of his shows in place. But he said that it wasn’t true and that shooting the pilot late wouldn’t even preclude it from the September schedule; he assured me that we were going to shoot this.  At that point I wasn’t even concerned about getting it on the air; I just wanted to get it shot. And sure enough, two days before the table read, we had the cast, the sets were built, we were ready to go, and Jimmy, Dick and I got a phone call. Reilly no longer wanted to do it, allegedly because Will Sasso was in second position. I don’t think that was really the case, I think he just never shined to the project. I don’t think he ever really wanted to do the project; it actually was getting done because Jimmy Burrows picked this script out of a pile.

Neely: Was the problem with Will Sasso real?

Dave: He was on “Less than Perfect” and was like 8th on the Call Sheet.  There were rumblings that they didn’t want to let him out and McPherson wasn’t happy about it and they made it difficult but I think we could have worked it out. Billy Gardell, who I wrote it for, was said to be too “on the nose.”

Neely: And “on the nose” is a bad thing?  I so love Billy Gardell.  He’s hilarious and warm and hilarious.  There is an unforgettable scene with him in the short-lived TV series entitled “Lucky” where he goes out to earn some money by being hit (“accidentally” and repeatedly) by moving cars. I can’t think of anyone else who could have pulled it off as well –embracing slapstick, pathos, and idiocy in one fell swoop.

Dave: I’ve always loved the movie “Marty” and I wanted a character like that – someone where you had to look a little harder to find the beauty. It was a hard sell; the cast was very average looking. No one was a beauty; there was one girl who was the love interest and she was very beautiful, but everyone else looked like regular people. I don’t know, maybe that hurt us.

Neely: As an aside, I just wrote a blog for Studio System about how networks have forgotten that the shows create the stars, not the stars that create the shows.  http://www.blssresearch.com/research-wrap?detail/C7/more_stars_than_there_are_in_the_heavens.

The best thing that can happen is for the audience to identify with your cast and there aren’t a whole lot of regular people out there for us to identify with.

Dave: Jimmy and I had the opportunity to pitch it to Reilly again and I made the mistake of pitching it from a “passion” point of view and what I should have done was explain that this was about the characters and I wanted to redefine the sitcom. Everyone responded to the character of Pete getting his thumb broken but were thinking of this as a traditional sitcom wondering “how’s he going to get out of it;” but that was the point, this was real life and “he doesn’t get out of it.” At the end of the first season he was going to disappear because he couldn’t stop gambling and his body would show up a year later.  There were a lot of interesting and unusual places I wanted to go.

The “dark” and the “light” are right next to each other and I’ve always been able to fin the funny even in the darkest of situations. The comedy resonates much more when it’s juxtaposed with the dark side, when it’s based on something real. I was going to go all kinds of places and I knew I could make it funny.  I wanted to do a dramedy that we’d shoot proscenium style. Mostly on a single set with maybe a couple of scenes outside and make this about these people and their lives. In traditional TV you put your characters in predicaments and then a week later they’re all better.  I didn’t want to do that. It would be like a play. I didn’t want easy resolutions.

Neely: Besides Jimmy Burroughs, you had a heavy hitter behind you in Dick Wolf.  Now there has to be a story in that because this is not a guy know for a lot of yuks.

Dave: I had just been fired off “Will and Grace.” Max (Mutchnick) and David (Kohan) had come back and I became superfluous so I left the show in October; I had two years left on my deal so I wanted to develop something. Nena Rodrigue who does the non-traditional stuff for Dick Wolff is a good friend of mine and she wanted to get him into comedy. I wrote my script in two weeks and turned it in and Dick was sort of perplexed and said he didn’t get it, but everyone else loved it so he said “Go with God.” Once Jimmy Burrows signed on Dick got very enthusiastic, but he wasn’t very involved. He was involved in some of the casting and went to a few of the meetings, but mainly his involvement was as a backer and a producer. As a side note, Jimmy Burrows had been part of the team that had just fired me from “Will and Grace.” So when he picked up my script and said he loved it and wanted to shoot it, I thought “No Way! The guy just fired me one month ago.” When I went in to see him and asked why he was interested after he’d just let me go, he said, “Honey, that’s (“Will and Grace”) not your voice, this is.”

Neely: But comedy chops or no comedy chops, Dick Wolff was a 2 ton gorilla for NBC and that alone should have yielded an order.

Dave: It should have, but I think the 2 ton gorilla didn’t always get along with people at NBC and it was a case of two immovable forces. I actually thought with Dick Wolff behind it and Jimmy Burrows as well…in the end, nothing happened.

Neely: Were you happy with the casting process?

Dave: It was great. We got all the people we wanted – It was great. We got all the people we wanted – Will Sasso, Vincent Pastore, Michael Weaver, Jon Bernthal, Beth Lacke and Elizabeth Regan. We had a great cast. I just saw Jon Bernthal in “The Pacific” and he was terrific. He would have played Paulie and he was so authentic and so funny; and Michael Weaver came in and had a better Irish brogue than most of the authentic Irish actors who auditioned and he had a comedy background; Vinnie Pastore was great – the exchange his character had with his wife was lovely; he brought something different to it, something I wasn’t thinking of. The network loved him because they thought he was a marketable face and Jimmy loved him. The lead was the hard part and the leading lady – but Beth became available when her pilot dropped out and she was a dream.

The casting process can be tedious because everybody and his brother comes out. And when you’re “testing” Italians (and I can say this because I’m 100% Sicilian) you get these guys who come in the room then stop in the middle of the audition and tell you, they “Gotta go take a leak” – they think that’s what you’re looking for.  We’re not looking for Italians we’re looking for people who can act. Otherwise I’ve got family I can throw in there. You just end up rolling your eyes and thinking “how did you even get in here?” They’re trying to show you that they’re real Italian.

Neely:  Going back to Kevin Reilly being lukewarm about the show and then going to the upfronts and dropping this, one of the shows he picked up was this real dog entitled “Four Kings.” Perhaps they felt the shows were too similar as “Four Kings” was about four male friends.  It’s like there’s a TV Universe where there can’t be more than one show about four male (or female for that matter) friends on at the same time because all friends are the same.  And then, of course, “Four Kings” was created by Mutchnick and Kohan and they had more mojo than you.

Dave: That’s what’s really odd because they were suing NBC at the time (which was the reason I was originally brought on to “Will and Grace” because they were no longer welcome there – until they were again).  I read the script of “Four Kings” and it was okay, the produced pilot, however, was dreadful. But actually, I think that what occurred was that NBC was hedging their bets with “Four Kings” because “Goody” just didn’t follow the format of a traditional sitcom. My show had no easy breezy resolutions and the characters were well intentioned but crass. In so many ways I thought I was writing a play. But I think my show didn’t go, not because of Kevin Reilly, but because I didn’t sell it right. Saying I wanted to reinvent the multi-camera sitcom sounds pretty arrogant, but I wanted to do something that hadn’t been seen since “All in the Family.”

I think someone will someday do something like this on network; I’m just afraid it won’t be me. I think my future development is with cable because the networks know what I have to say and are no longer interested.

Neely: I think there might still be a life for it on cable. There’s universality in the story and you have such a distinct voice.  But whether it ever goes or doesn’t go, I have two questions and the first one is: Was Goody ever going to get the girl?

Dave: I don’t think so. What I wanted to do was something like “Marty.” You know there’s a caste system in dating that relies on looks, and here you’ve got this really pretty girl from a different place who finds herself falling in love with a guy she can’t fully embrace. There’s real love there but I didn’t know for sure if he would get her in the end. It was a complicated mess – she’s got ambivalence, he’s not really putting himself out there because he’s afraid of getting hurt. I went back and forth but I didn’t really think they should get together.

Neely: I loved the lack of resolution. But question number two, and this is really important – would we have ever gotten the chance to meet Taffy?

Dave: I don’t know.  As I mentioned, his “customer” was going to disappear; the presence of his character would only be there for half a year; his henchman Tommy was going to end up in jail – there were lots of other stories I wanted to tell.

Neely: You know, since this didn’t actually get made, these rights should revert to you.

Dave: I know but once something has the stink of rejection on it, it’s really hard to get someone to look at it in a different light. They do in some circumstances but the lack of courage of conviction is so disheartening.  You know, people love it and then they talk about it and then they talk themselves out of it.  They talk themselves out of more good things because of all the testing; testing that gives you things like “Emeril.”

Neely: What inspired you to write this? Do you know these guys?

Dave: I just made it up. I am from Boston and my relatives are these guys, but lighter.  The father, the mother, Goody – these are all people that I know. You grow up in a Sicilian household like I did and the holidays are all big and loud. I know the North End and it’s been undergoing gentrification for the last 30 years and the older Italians are getting pushed out. I mean there are still pockets of them there but I thought it would be just great if I could create a place that was like the last refuge for the neighborhood.

Neely: I usually try to find a way to repurpose material in a different medium but this is so very television and definitely not a film; but I’m struck by something you said earlier.  This would make a great play, because in theater, you don’t have to have resolutions. They can be open ended and about character, and this is all about character. It shares some similarities with August Wilson’s character studies when his series ventured into the 50s and 60s.  Have you ever written a play?

Dave: It’s so funny that you ask because I just got theatrical representation with Abrams Artists in New York for a play that I wrote. I just met with Amy Brenneman and she wants to help get the play done, possibly by being in it.  I just had a reading of it and we’re trying to get it put up at one of the small theaters.  It’s taken me 7 years to get it to this point and I’m finally happy with it. It’s a three act that’s sexual but not really just about sex. It’s called “Fuck T*lk” where the a in “talk” has the asterisk, not the u in “fuck.” I really don’t want to turn “Goody” into a play; it was always something bigger to me, something where I could push out the edges of storytelling on a network.

Neely: You have so much interesting work out there, but one pilot you’ve written has taken on almost cult status – “Working, Dating and Dying in Hollywood.” In a nutshell, it’s about a comedy writer with cystic fibrosis. Where did this come from and what’s the connection to cystic fibrosis?

Dave: I was the one with cystic fibrosis and then 13 years ago I had a double lung transplant. Anyway, I went in to HBO with Susie Fitzgerald to pitch a show about an Italian, of course, family who run a family restaurant that’s going bankrupt and so they start shooting and producing porn in their restaurant at night in order to stay solvent.  It was a comedy, it was fun, and it had a lot of rich characters. So we’re engaging in small talk and Carolyn Strauss, who was head of HBO at the time, turned to whoever else was in the room and said “Did you know that Dave had a double lung transplant?” And that was it and I pitched and the next day I got a call from my agent saying that they wanted to do “the transplant story.” But I didn’t pitch a transplant story.  Well anyway I wrote it in two days; they loved it; they wanted to change a lot of it. I was going through a divorce at the time and was still in a two year development deal that was paying me a lot of money so I really couldn’t afford to do it. Besides it was going in a direction I didn’t want to go and they wanted to remove one of my favorite devices – the animation, which was a very different way of doing exposition. Eventually the rights reverted back to me.  It’s one of those pieces like “Goody” that people like and always want to know why it didn’t get made.

Neely: I’ve never been a big fan of phlegm and what astonished me is that it didn’t seem to be as big a problem as I thought it would be for other people.

Dave: Why do something if you’re not going to go all the way. I think people responded to it because I didn’t hide anything. I made it hard hitting – it was real. The biggest compliment I can get from anyone is if they think what I wrote was honest story telling. Cystic Fibrosis is a big part of my life.

Neely: The double lung transplant, was that a cure for the Cystic Fibrosis?

Dave: It was a cure for the lungs because you don’t have the coughing any more but the body still has it; it’s in the pancreas and your cells still have it; but without the transplant I would have been dead at 38, no doubt. It was exchanging one illness for one that is easier to live with.

Neely: This year you created “Sherri” loosely based on the life of comedienne and “View” hostess Sherri Shepherd.  How were you chosen for that project?

Dave: Nina Wass, a really good friend, asked me to do the show and I wasn’t interested. She asked me to meet Sherri and hear her life story and I said sure. I’d already known Sherri because we worked together on “Suddenly Susan.” We met and Sherri pitched her idea of a single camera show that was a really dark acerbic look at her divorce but there were a lot of laughs. So I agreed to do it and then we took it around and ended up selling it to the CW. It got softer after the first pass but then they said they wanted to do it as a multi cam and I said fine, I’ll write the pilot but then I’m done because it was no longer interesting to me. They ended up taking all the good stuff out of it – all the adult stuff. So I shot it and I’m a consultant on it, but it’s not a passion project; it’s not what it could have been which was very interesting to me. Terry Minsky took it over and she’s done a really great job.

Neely: What brought you out here in the first place?

Dave: I went to college as an advertising major and a writing minor and I had a class called “How to write sitcoms” and saw that I could make $80K in a year.  So I said to my wife – let’s move to California. I wrote some specs and waited tables for three years and then got an agent. I was writing with a partner at the time and we did a “Larry Sanders” spec that got us attention After about a year we switched agents and we got our first job – a presentation for She TV with Bonnie and Terry Turner; and then “Good Advice.” After “Good Advice” I was on my own so I had to write a new “Larry Sanders” spec which also got me hired.

Neely: Did you ever work in advertising?

Dave: No. That first year I got a C in advertising and A’s in my writing classes and changed majors. It was a leap of faith because I didn’t think you could make a living as a writer until I saw that thing about making 80 Grand. I came from a household where we never made more than 20 Grand and there were 9 of us, so I just thought “Hee Haw!”

Neely: Well you did suffer for your art.

Dave: You mean waiting tables? That wasn’t suffering; everyone has to put in their time and pay their dues. The suffering was the waiting, not the waiting tables.

Neely: What’s next?

Dave: I’m in negotiations to write a script for James Gandolfini at HBO – it’s my version of a French Canadian series called “Taxi 22.” It’s about a cab driver in New York. I’ve got another idea I’m going to pitch to HBO in about a month.

Neely: Can’t wait to follow more of the adventures of Dave.

Neely can be reached at neely@nomeanerplace.com

March 10, 2010

“Anything worth living for,” said Nately, “is worth dying for.” “And anything worth dying for,” answered the old man, “is certainly worth living for.” – Catch 22 by Joseph Heller

Filed under: Conversations With, Pilots, Pilots not produced, Rice — Tags: , , , — Neely Swanson @ 10:51 am

“Emerald City” by John Rice

What: A civilian feels he can make a difference in Iraq by gradually rebuilding the Green Zone and spreading out from there

Who: Andrew Mangold, civilian, has a brilliant proposal for road reconstruction, sewage repair, and electricity restoration that is immediately dismissed and discarded by his civilian boss, Alberto Barrini. Instead he is awarded the contract, complete with bundles of cold hard cash, to re-open the Baghdad zoo.

THE COALITION PROVISIONAL AUTHORITY

Mangold’s in his boss’s office, his laptop opened to multiple windows. Showing Barrini mock up designs for his invitation to the ‘Grand Reopening of the Baghdad Zoo.’ Slightly different versions for the three major Iraqi sects – but all quite nifty.

Mangold: …I’ve gotta say at first I was a little disappointed that my maiden project here in Iraq was the zoo – but I’ve come around on that one-eighty. It’s something Shia, Sunni, Kurd, everyone could rally around, as a sign of things returning to normal. And I’ve worked up a budget for the event – And I know it might seem a little steep but I think we should do this up right, get the place cleaned up quick, have a menu and special entertainment for each culture, and go after the bigwig Iraqis, from Chalabi to al Sistani, to mayor Tamimi, hell, I don’t see any reason we can’t get Bremer himself to make an appearance…

Barrini, who doesn’t often find himself believing anything good can happen in Iraq – finds himself swayed by Mangold’s enthusiasm, eyeing his proposal quite seriously.

Barrini:…The cage in the cover art, you have deliberately left it empty?

Mangold: Only until the Blackwater security team brings in the Bengal tiger…the tiger is a symbol to the Iraqis of strength and virility.

Barrini: You are assuming the Blackwaters will find it and capture it without killing it?

Mangold: (nods) I’ve got a good feeling about the guy I put in charge… got a good feeling about the whole thing. (beat) And keep in mind, I’ve only had a couple days on this, it’ll all get better, and I’m sure I’ll find twenty or thirty thousand I can hack out of the budget – but I wanted to get you the proposal as quickly as possible because I know it takes time to get the funding together for something like this.

Barrini: …In Emerald City, that is not always the case. (lifts his phone, punches numbers) It is Barrini, I am okaying an expenditure of one-quarter million American – to be extended to one Andrew Mangold.

Barrini hangs up on whoever he called, tears a half page off a yellow pad, saving on the cost of office supplies. Scrawls his signature on it.

Barrini: (Cont’d) Your project is a go, Andrew Mangold, this is your authorization.

Mangold: …But I only asked for a hundred thousand.

Barrini: Money, Andrew Mangold, is not the issue in Iraq.

The trailer living arrangements are, however, an issue, especially as his closest neighbor, Blackwater employee Dan Cutter, likes to hold “trailer parties,” the Green Zone equivalent of raves. He’s not getting any sleep and he’s not making any adjustments, and when his dog defecates on his other neighbor’s pristine lawn, he’s not making any friends.

Mangold’s unknown other neighbor is Lieutenant Monica Lang, military psychologist charged with counseling disturbed soldiers, often against their wills.  She is very good at her job, despite Army interference with her closure percentages, and refuses to send soldiers back to combat until she and they understand the deeper dynamics of what brought them to her office in the first place, even when it places her life at risk. Lang has demons of her own which she plays out in her personal life; a life that involves sex games with Cutter and a co-dependent relationship that neither will allow to get to a healthy relationship level.  And Lang is also very adept at vengeance, something she puts into place once the dog poop wars begin.

First priority for Mangold: physically cleaning up the zoo and finding the animals that have escaped, not the least of which is the aforementioned very hungry and emaciated tiger that has allegedly been feeding off the neighborhood dogs. Andrew must rely on both civilian Blackwater operatives and native workers, making his job nearly impossible as he is not adept at fording political waters, and these are very political waters. With Cutter assigned to protect Andrew as he searches for the tiger, they encounter a deranged Imam who believes that the tiger is the second coming of Christ; he has been trapping dogs in order to feed and lure the tiger.  Things don’t end well for either the tiger or the Imam; and Mangold ends up without a centerpiece for his zoo.  He also ends up as a pawn between Cutter and Lang in their psycho-sexual games.  This boy is in way over his head.

No Meaner Place: Written as a “M.A.S.H.” for an even more cynical age about an even more cynical war, Rice has already set up his main character for a giant fall without a net.  The viewer’s trip down the yellow brick road will witness Mangold’s loss of idealism and his hold on reality because neither is present in the Emerald City.  It may be this very cynicism without apparent redemption that prevented the production of this script by Showtime, the network that commissioned it.  Although Mangold was ostensibly set up as the main character, the bulk of the interest actually lies with the damaged character of Lieutenant Monica Lang and her investigation into her patients’ demons and breakdowns, as well as with her own manipulative sexual games.  Although this script is a very well done black comedy, something in the vein of a very dark Candide, it would take more imagination than is commonly (or ever) found in television to make this work.

Life Lessons for Writers: There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: This was very very dark.  Did Showtime pitch this to you or did you pitch the idea to them?

John: All my favorite cable shows are dark, especially when there’s some earned humor in the dark.  The show was my idea.  The year before I’d sold Showtime a pilot script called “18 Zulu” which they said they couldn’t make, but said they’d buy the next thing I wanted to do. And true to their word, they did.  I pitched them this and they told me to go ahead and write it.  I had a great experience at Showtime. I have a lot of respect for Bob Greenblatt. He’s there in the room, wants to like what you have, has the smarts to help you shape it.

Neely: Is the Green Zone actually referred to as the Emerald City?

John: Yeah. The whole idea of our enterprise there seemed mutant to me, green and glowing.  The imam in the pilot, who peroxided his hair and starting dressing himself like the Virgin Mary after seeing our “shock and awe” — is actually based on a real character.  He was America’s “go-to” Cleric at one point to help us understand Iraq and Islam.  The lesioned tiger that was self-mutilating, was doing so because Uday Hussein was zoo tender, and the tiger really did get out because an errant smart-bomb hit the zoo.  I read tons of stuff that was simply way too bizarre to make up. That’s what the show was going to be about.  The insane truth.

Neely:  What was their reaction?

John:  Really positive, at first, but then the Bochco series set against the war, “Over There,” came out, and didn’t find much of an audience.  I believed my show was different enough that it could have been successful when that show wasn’t. “Emerald City” isn’t just about soldiers fighting a war, it’s about trying to fix something you’ve broken; run a country you know nothing about; the ordinary people driven to madness trying to create order out of chaos. But I understood Showtime’s hesitation. When the war was in the headlines every day, America may not have been ready for a series about Iraq. I think now, with some time past, it could be the kind of show people find and talk about.  It’s really quite provocative, the world within the Green Zone, and I’m not just talking about the world of my story.

Neely: You make a few “Wizard of Oz” references in the script. Did you think of making “Emerald City” more of a metaphor?

John: I liked that it was called that but I didn’t want to go too far with it.  It’s a wacky place where no one’s really in charge.  Paul Bremer was like the Wizard, powerless to do anything about anything.

Neely: Despite the name of the pilot, I hooked into more Candide similarities than Dorothy and Toto, with Mangold as Candide, Lang as Cunegonde, and both Barrini and Cutter as something of a Pangloss character.  I’m known for overreaching.

John: It makes sense after the fact.  I wish I was smart enough to have thought of it.

Neely: Why this story?

John: Sometimes I try to do things that are worth doing, not just what the town wants to do, and when I started researching what was going on in the early days in Baghdad, I knew I had to add my voice to those trying to wake America up to just what we’d gotten into… not just to make a point, but because it was truly fascinating. An ongoing, multiple train wreck in 3-D.  The madness of the truth is extraordinary. Taxpayer dollars were literally flowing into and out of Emerald City, sometimes actually in wheelbarrows. And the bar at the combat mental health unit, at least early on, was really low. The idea was to find a way to get the soldier pronounced sane enough to put his uniform back on and get his ass back to the front lines… we needed soldiers.

Neely: It’s very much Heller’s Catch 22: flying combat missions was clearly insane, but to request an evaluation of one’s mental health under such circumstances showed “a concern for one’s safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate indicating it was the process of a rational mind.” So therefore you’re not insane.  Your whole script was an exercise in circular logic.

Did you go to Baghdad?

John: No.  There was just so much available on the internet.  I spent an awful lot of time on my computer.  I did talk to different people including someone from Special Forces and Iraq war vets – just some soldiers, relatives or people I’d met before.  They really didn’t understand what was going on.  How could they?  There was a bridge across the Tigris; we blew it up with smart bombs. And then we’d pay to re-build it. And then the insurgents would blow it up. Blow up, rebuild, blow up, rebuild.

Neely: Tell us a little more on how this all evolved.  Were you given notes or guidelines on what they wanted?

John: The draft you read is very close to what I wrote. I think it was just too close to the time and place.  We are a bit more distant from it now. It struck me that it should be done in the moment and have an effect.

Neely: Anything interesting come up when you were researching Blackwater?

John: I researched Blackwater endlessly.  Special Forces soldiers are paid around $42,500 but many quit, lured by private contractors like Blackwater, which pay four times as much for the ex-soldier to do the same thing.  This isn’t even hidden war profiteering; it’s boldfaced.  Most of the time research is only somewhat interesting to me, but on this project I couldn’t shut Safari down.  I liked the idea of exploring that Halliburton/Blackwater world through the Cutter character… during the first season we’d come to know his best buddy — the Special Forces medic Cutter’s always talking to on his sat-phone, has been dead for two years; got blown up in Afghanistan when he and  Cutter were trying to birth the baby out of a dying Afghani woman. Cutter, neighbors Monica and Mangold would come to find out, was way more messed up than any of Monica’s official patients.

Neely: Any other plans for this material?  It could make a very interesting allegorical film, using either “The Wizard of Oz” or Candide as a paradigm.  Personally I think the subject matter is more suited to film because unlike M.A.S.H., this war is still going on and is like a fresh wound.  I’ve pretty much stopped reading about it in the papers because it’s just one suicide bomb after another.

John: It turns out that the Humanitas organization has found some funding to find worthy projects that haven’t been made, and instead of their traditional mandate – to wait for something worthy and then give it a prize – they’ve been looking for projects to make that they’d give a prize to.  “Emerald City,” according to my agent, is a finalist, one of very few chosen to be considered.  I’ll know the outcome soon.  There are incredible writers on the board!  It’s heartening to me no matter what happens.

Neely: Essentially all of your past career was in features.  What enticed you to television?

John: I’ve sold four series to various networks, although I haven’t had anything produced. Movies are bigger in immediate scope, but I find TV is like writing a novel. You get to be with your characters in lower-case moments. There’s a much greater exploration of character over a much longer period of time. I find the best writing is currently being done on TV, especially cable. And if you think getting something made in television is tough, try features.

Neely: What about directing?

John: I originally wanted to direct and I still do; I went to grad school at USC in their directing program. There’s a project that I wrote that I’m attached to and hope to get made.  I’ve tried in the past to write a big enough feature so that I could get to direct my next film.

Neely: You and your features writing partner have a number of credits. Which of your past projects were originally conceived by you and on which ones were you brought on to rewrite.  On which projects did you receive screen credit?

John: I’ve written features and some TV with Joe Batteer. I met him at USC where he’d done a fabulous thesis film.  We’ve been less about re-writing and more about selling original ideas. “Blown Away” and “Windtalkers” were stories that we pitched, got paid to write, and both first drafts of our screenplays got cast and greenlit, in remarkably short order – both within six months of selling the pitch.  We were lucky enough to have stayed on the projects from inception through test-screenings.  We didn’t always have a ton of say, but we at least go to be part of the entire process.  Having written a lot with partners, I love the process of collaborating. With another writer, producer, director or actor — trying to hear something not just in their best ideas, but even in the ones you don’t agree with. I recently adapted a book into a screenplay called “Pressure.” I talked to the novelist twice a week. It was incredibly beneficial and we just attached an A-list director, I think in large part because I kept the novelist in the loop. I wish more people in Hollywood would keep the writer in the loop… which I’m sure isn’t (especially among writers) an original idea.

Neely: You have several scripts at the development stage but one notably in so-called “active development” that you are also on board to direct.  How far along in the process is that project?

John: “Stan’s Cup” is a hockey movie, a comedy, as much about the eccentric, frozen, hockey-crazed small town and its characters as sport. It tells the story of a guy who never lived up to his father, Stan’s legacy; never filled, in the parlance of the movie, Stan’s (nut) Cup. After screwing up his chance to be part of the 1980 “Miracle on Ice” Olympic team, our hero finally gets a shot at redemption, and a much smaller miracle, thirty years later, in an old-timers’ game against Tretiak and some of the Russians he never got to play against. As to how far along it is, it depends on the day. The financiers recently got a cash infusion… so it seems, today, like it’s close…

Neely: Going all the way back to the beginning, what brought you out here in the first place?

John: I had been working for a Senator in DC after college and it seemed a tad too political (Neely note: go figure!) so I decided to go out to Hollywood. I had made a campaign film and done some media work so it just seemed like it would be more fun to work with fiction on a bigger canvas. I got accepted into the production program at the USC Film School, so I got in my VW and drove out and that’s where I met my writing partner Joe, who was in the same program as me.

Neely: Which of your past projects do you hold most dear?  Any interesting stories associated with it?

John: That would be “Windtalkers” because 1) It got made and 2) it was worth being made.  We were flown on the corporate jet to DC, stood in the Capitol Rotunda, and watched President Bush give medals to the 4 original Navajo Code Talkers who fought in World War II and were still alive.  It took 55 years for their contributions to be fully recognized, and our movie, which my wife produced, helped facilitate them finally getting the honor they deserved.  “Blown Away” was pretty cool, too. U2’s my favorite band forever, and there were two of my favorite U2 songs featured in the movie.

Neely: Who would you most like to work with in the future?

John: Bono. I wish he’d produce a project I have called “One,” that’s about religion. Otherwise, let’s see… I’ve been working with McG on a big canvas character-driven action film, so that’s exciting. Actor-wise, I’d love to work with Jeff Bridges again; he’s an amazing human being and a tremendously natural actor. I like Robert Downey Jr. and Will Smith; they have gravitas but don’t take themselves too seriously on screen, and their films get watched. I loved Jeremy Renner in “Hurt Locker.” I love the late Milos Forman’s movies the best – “Amadeus” and “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”  I just showed my son “Amadeus” and the next morning he composed his first piece on the piano; it won a prize.

Neely: What about television?  Any more projects?  What about directing?

John: As I mentioned, I have a feature called “One” that I’m attached to direct that deals with the three Abrahamic religions that used to be one and the same – the Jews, Christians and Muslims all claim Abraham as a prophet, and they share way more notions and common history than most people realize.  It’s a “Crash”-like project taking place in Detroit on one day. Dangerous. Written in minor notes.

Neely: Earlier you mentioned that Showtime pretty much gave you free rein to write what you wanted for your second script, “Emerald City”, when they decided they couldn’t produce your first one.  What was that first one?

John: “18 Zulu.”  It’s a about a Special Forces team in Afghanistan.  18 Zulu is a reference to a position that’s essentially the “Team Daddy” who has to crack some ass in Ass-Crackistan, and try to bring his guys home alive.  Basically it’s about hearts and minds and how an Alpha Team, America’s first boots on the ground, tried to win them, and hang onto their own hearts and minds… we were talking to a guy who was stationed in Helmand Province, the stories were incredible… it was pretty intense, eye-opening… Made me really glad I lived in L.A. and could just write about it…

Neely: One thing I did notice was that there is a big gap in the years between “Blown Away” and “Windtalkers.”  What happened during that time and why do you think that was?

John:  I was in “movie jail” to some degree, I suppose, after “Blown Away.”  The movie was profitable, and had an incredible cast — counting Jeff Bridges’ win last night, four actors who were in the movie have won Academy Awards — but at one time it was talked about as being an action movie that could be both a big-time critical and commercial hit and help save MGM. When it underperformed, my star, if I ever had one, lost some luster.

Neely: I will definitely watch for more of your scripts and especially for your films which I feel certain will be produced – because movie jail or no movie jail, it’s merely a waiting game…

February 10, 2010

“Hey there Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are looking good. You’re everything a big bad wolf could want.” Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs

Little Red by John Kirk & Erik Gardner

What: Little Red Davies and her parents, Jennifer and Michael, are on their way to Grandma’s house when they are attacked by “wolves.”

Who: Driving in their Land Rover to Grandma’s house, Michael is much annoyed when all four of his tires blow out when they hit the camouflaged chain of road spikes at the entrance to Granny’s protected compound in the woods.

Michael: You said you told the old lady we were coming.

Jennifer: She promised to clear the path.

Michael: Look at this!  Shredded!

Little Red: Can’t we just walk the rest of the way?  The cottage isn’t far.

Jennifer: You stay right here on the path.

Little Red pouts, mumbles…

Little Red: I don’t like it in the woods. I want to see Granny.

Michael: I’m calling the tow service.

Jennifer: You know she won’t let outsiders on the property.

Michael: Yeah? Screw Granny.

But Little Red takes off on her own and it is then that death and destruction rain down in the form of a wolf; not just any wolf, but –

“The biggest in God’s creation, standing on its hind legs like a human, dripping saliva from eight-inch canines. Its eyes are like silver mirrors, dappling reflected sunlight over Red’s face.”

Acting on protective animal instinct, Michael and Jennifer run to Red’s aid.  Red is able to escape, at least temporarily, but both Michael and Jennifer are mauled and shredded by the Wolf.  Slashed by the Wolf, Red’s wounds miraculously heal instantaneously and her screams alert Granny, who

Steps out of the woods; tough broad, intolerant of shit, rigged out head-to-toe in camo. She racks an AK-74U assault rifle and blasts rounds into…The Wolf…Force of the bullets ripping into its chest lifts the Wolf off its feet and slams it down on its back…She approaches Camera, looking down at the dead wolf, O.S.

Granny: (to the Wolf) Born or bitten?

Now an orphan, Red is brought up by Granny who teaches her about the conspiracy and survival, as well as how to handle an M4A1 short barrel automatic and other helpful artillery. For ten years Granny prepared Little Red by challenging her in war games, but nothing prepared Granny for the day that Little Red informed her that she was leaving the compound to attend college.

Granny: I’ve never submitted your home-schooling records to the state. (beat) How can any college accept a girl who doesn’t exist?

Little Red: I hacked into the state university mainframe, created my own records.

Granny: You make your Granny so proud.

Red, following Granny’s advice, makes every effort to be inconspicuous, or at least as inconspicuous as a super hottie can be.  She barhops with her girl friends, she has a boy friend, and she attends classes; but when she donates blood at the blood drive the results trigger a panic that travels far and wide and leads to an SOS from Granny in the form of  four young survivalist conspiracy freaks, Axel, Izzy, Clarence and Squire, sent to bring Red to safety. Knowing that Red is still unconvinced, Axel plays a DVD presentation by Justin Marrs, the conspiracy theorist.

Justin Marrs: All of the organizations that rule the people of this planet, that keep us living like cattle…are werewolves.

Red shakes her head, dismissive.

Red: Another conspiracy crank.

Justin Marrs: Think, people. If you were an advanced species, relatively small in number, and you had the ability to take human form…would you sweep the streets… or run the world?

Arriving at the bunker meeting site, an abandoned Wal-Mart, Granny is nowhere to be found. The missing Granny only seems to confirm Red’s doubts about the guerilla group.  If only she knew that at that very moment two werewolves, Maya and Rausch, sent by international headquarters, are blasting Granny’s compound to bits.  Entering the cottage in human form they immediately set about mauling Granny.

Worried that Granny has not arrived at the compound, the group takes off for the cottage in their Hummer.  Arriving at the cottage, Red finds something with silver eyes lying in Granny’s bed.  It was Red that they wanted, Red, the only human in existence to have been slashed by a werewolf and not “turned.”  A full scale attack on Red and her posse ensues, with Red as the victor. But her most important task is to find and rescue Granny. Too late…Granny has transformed and Red must make the final sacrifice – emptying her Ruger into Granny’s chest, because the only way to kill a werewolf is shoot it through the heart or sever its head.  Bringing to mind Granny’s words:

Granny: Always empty your clip, Red. (beat) One thing the world will never run short of is bullets.

Axel and the boys lead Red back to the bunker.  No longer in any doubt about the threat facing the world, Red will lead their revolution against the forces of darkness.

No Meaner Place: In some ways reminiscent of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “True Blood”, but only as far as the creatures that inhabited both shows, “Little Red” is a tongue-in-cheek girl-as-action-hero slam bang filmic comic book.  Everything is black and white and red all over, if you’ll excuse the pun, and larger than anything life has to offer.  All the adults in responsible positions are evil – ministers, deans, professors – and the good guys are in a definite minority.  What’s not to like about a story where the secret password of the conspiracy theorists is “Dick Cheney is a werewolf”?  Red, like Buffy, is an empowered young woman with the ability to lead.  How could you not love a hummer-driving Granny who wears camo, booby traps her compound and carries an assault rifle with a bandolier full of ammo?  Pity she dies in the opener.  Of course there are the mystic mysteries, none of which were mentioned in the synopsis; one of which promises to be an Indiana Jones-type search for the holy grail through an Anasazi Navajo ruin. Pacing, character, thrills, chills, conspiracies, world domination, and werewolves, this series has it all.

“Little Red” would have been enormously expensive to make with the special masks and make-up needed for the werewolves and the location shooting and car stunts.  What is surprising, though, is that despite the expense no one nibbled on this one.  “True Blood” takes a somewhat intellectual approach to other worldly monsters in its racial prejudice take; “Supernatural” is fun in its alien-of- the-week approach; and “Buffy,” now gone, had that high school subtext viewpoint.  I’m shocked given the multi-network edict last season to find interesting takes on fairy tales that someone didn’t latch on to this ultra modern retelling of Little Red Riding Hood with its wolf, granny, and potential hunter-hero in the guise of State Trooper Burns. Rescuing mankind from world domination by an axis of evil would seem to be natural television story telling.  The lack of interest in this one leaves me dumbfounded.  I thoroughly loved this script and I absolutely hate Sci-Fi, proving once again that great writing is great writing.

Life Lessons for Writers:  Don’t go off the beaten path unless you’re armed with a great script and an AK 74U.

Conversation with the Writers:

Neely: Well the first question that jumps to mind is WHERE THE HELL DID THIS COME FROM?  Were you sitting around and discussing “Fractured Fairy Tales?”

John: At the time, Erik had this brilliant idea that coincided with a manager telling him that fairy tales were going to be hot.  The picture he had in his head was of Little Red Riding Hood with two silver six-shooters in her hands killing werewolves.  It was the perfect one sheet.  At the same time I had an idea for putting together a series based on conspiracies; also the 2012 Mayan Prophecy was getting hot (the Mayan calendar predicts that the world will end on the winter solstice in 2012).  What if you had a cabal of werewolves running the world – that would be the conspiracy element.

Erik: I was a big “Buffy” fan but I felt it was a bit hokey.  I had done a horror film for Lionsgate entitled “The Mangler Reborn” and thought: what if we did a horror TV show with a strong heroine, and instead of vampires, how about werewolves?  It wasn’t consciously thought to be a twisted fairy tale.  I mentioned my idea to John and we went from there.

Neely: It wasn’t a well kept secret last season that all the development departments were looking for updated (and presumably skewed or skewered) fairy tales.  Until this week, my assumption was that the only successful pitch was by Jason Katims, although I don’t see any sign of it having been approved to script.  Then on Monday (2/1/10) SyFy announces a MOW project on fairy tales that will include one entitled “Little Red” about a descendant of Little Red Riding Hood who fights werewolves.  That’s uncomfortably close, especially since I assume this script was pitched to them.

John: SyFy did get “Little Red” and we know many people at SyFy read the script.  Since their success with “Tin Man” and the general call for projects based on fairy tales, it’s a fair bet that they’ve read a dozen scripts and taken dozens of pitches based on Little Red Riding Hood.  You hear stories that development execs cherry pick, but I can’t say for sure that’s the case here. I’m curious to see if the SyFy film has an underground conspiracy element.   RHI had their own Red Riding Hood project.  They read ours, but only after theirs had already gone out.

Erik: Ideas are a dime a dozen, I guess.  It’s a let down but onward and upward.  So you come up with ten other things.  I’m curious if the SyFy show is the RHI picture that they were calling “Red.”  John and I have a deep rooted love for horror.  Are these other people rooted in the genre or did they just come up with a good idea?  Do they understand that horror is much like comedy from the standpoint of “set-up” and “pay-off.” You set up the scare and then there’s the pay off.  For instance, the set-up is a girl is walking down a dark hall and hears something; and then someone grabs her from behind – that’s an easy pay-off.  When you work with a partner it allows you to check one another so you don’t always go down the easy path.  I get really passionate about this stuff.

Neely: Regardless, their budget is very low and the concept is much more limited.  Let’s talk about Granny – what a fabulous character. I hated that you killed her! What was your inspiration?

John: Don’t worry; she’s not dead.  Remember, the only remains in the tiger trap at the end belong to the original werewolf from the teaser.  Both Granny and Squire are missing.  As an interesting aside, we named Squire and Clarence after two musicians in the Stone Roses; Axel and Izzy were named after band members from the original Guns ‘n Roses. I love Granny.  She took on her own life.  The advice she gives Little Red about always making sure to empty your clip because the one thing this world will never run out of is bullets is a brilliant philosophy. I remember looking up from the monitor and wishing I could live my life that way.

Erik: My Grandma, God rest her soul, was a tough cookie who everyone thought was so cute.  They just didn’t know. You didn’t dare cross her or she’d kick your ass.  So Granny was inspired by my Grandma. Kathy Bates would be so cool in that role.

Neely: I love the fact that the women are so strong.  It was certainly one of the great appeals of Buffy.  Sci Fi, and again I’ll emphasize that I neither read nor watch it, seems to be a bastion of male/female equality.  Why do you think that is?

John: Believe it or not, I’m not a big Sci/Fi reader either.  I just think that strong female protagonists draw a wider audience – I guess that’s the easy answer.  It’s about empathy.  A woman in danger is easier to empathize with.  The image of a woman who stands up for herself and gets herself out of danger is very powerful.

Erik: I don’t know.  Maybe they feel they can take more chances in Sci/Fi. But I do know,  a lot of women love girl power and Men love to see hot, ass-kicking women.  It’s win/win.  I’ve written this one horror pic where the main character is a guy but in talking it over with my girlfriend, I think I’ll change the character to a woman. It broadens the appeal.  Sometimes though, character gender just comes out of the story process.

Neely: A couple of questions here about the script.  If I followed it correctly, Catherine, the evil leader, might actually be Little Red’s mother transmogrified.  Does that mean she was born rather than bitten?

John: We want people to believe that, but Catherine is actually Little Red’s other grandmother.  Little Red was part of Catherine’s secret project – Red was born a hybrid. Season two would have revealed the many unsuccessful attempts at creating hybrids.  It’s like in “Alien Resurrection” where Ripley reappears and sees all the previously failed attempts to bring her back.

Erik: John has given it all away!

Neely: As any writer knows, you write your heart and your passion and your story and worry about production details after.  Clearly you wrote your passion, so let’s talk about production which, no doubt, freaked out any unimaginative development executive who read this.  This is an unbelievably expensive project.  How do you think this could get done on a network or cable budget?  Of course in an ideal world HBO would have picked this up and budget questions would have been (somewhat) moot; but even Showtime watches every penny.

John: This may have been partly our mistake. No one ever mentioned that the budget was too high. It was too easy for them to say “no” and move on to the next thing.  Did we get nibbles? Yes, but no one ever talked about us rewriting to lower the budget.  In reality, “Little Red” just got us the opportunity to pitch our other potential projects.  Our mistake was probably not addressing the expense.  We wanted the execs to get the full impact of our vision. Lots of people were impressed with the writing and our “world building” – where we set out the whole world inhabited by these creatures.  I was really proud of that. I’ve worked on shows where it was clear the showrunner did not know where the show was going – the season arc, the series arc, character development – and that was the direct reason for those shows failing. Erik and I agreed from the start that we would not make that mistake with “Little Red”. We knew we’d get that question during meetings: “So what happens in episode 10?” Not only could we tell them the story for episode 10, we could tell the stories for every episode through the first season.

Erik: Could it have been done on budget? Yes! I understand how these guys think, but I know how to do this on a present day “X-Files” type budget.  You’d crew locally; have some great EFX guys make the werewolf suits; blood is cheap; the vision is there.  CGI is what costs, as well as the time to render it.  I’d shoot on the RED (a camera in HD format) and shoot it practical.  The technology has advanced so far.  When shooting with the RED camera what you see is what you get.  You don’t have to wait and worry for the film to come back.  It’s just an easier medium to work in and can sometimes be ultimately cheaper.  Yeah, most people said “it’s big.”  The show might have sold if we could have pitched how we’d have filmed it.  But I have to say, the most constructive note we got was when we were told that you have to be able to take out the horror and still have a story there.  You need to think about what is there besides the horror; where’s the story? I think about that a lot now.

Neely: Have you given any thought to repurposing the material?  This could make a fabulous Young Adult book series – it’s a bit too graphic to be the successor to Harry Potter, but it certainly has the makings of a Twilight-style series.  And of course then you would get to double dip because this sure fire book series would lead to a features deal.  Or how about a feature in which the fate of the world is resolved in the end, but only to the degree that a franchise series of films is born?

John: Well, so far our agent, Jack Dytman, has been most interested in the television possibilities, but I think there are feature franchise possibilities too.  I do write fiction and have published some stories in magazines.  You’re right about the serial novel idea.  But Red’s future is up in the air because our writing team partnership no longer exists. Jack’s a decorated veteran in the TV business, and he’s been telling us for a while that he’s taken Red about as far as he can.  As far as I know, he’s never suggested that we try to turn the script into a feature spec.  Then again, I’ve never asked him if we should.

Erik: I’ve thought about doing it as a low budget horror film, so yes.  We also talked about making it a comic book or even a video game, but those talks haven’t really gone anywhere.

Neely: There are royalty arrangements that could be worked out with the two of you, even if only one of you is actively writing the books.

John: I don’t know much about book publishing so I’d have to educate myself about that.  You’re right, though, a book series would build the audience for the future film.

Erik: I used to write kid stuff, so a book series is a great idea.  I know John is a master at prose and has written a bunch of acclaimed stories.

Neely: Let’s talk a bit about you guys.  How did each of you get started?

John: Back in ’96, I moved out to Burbank, renting my own apartment, after an X-Files spec I’d written got me a TV agent.  Within two months of moving, I got my first freelance script, and in less than a year I had my first job as a staff writer on a show called “Roar,” a cult favorite that starred Heath Ledger and Vera Farmiga.  I went on to become a story editor and later picked up freelance scripts thanks to producers I’d worked with on previous shows.  In late 2004 my wife was diagnosed with a serious illness.  Over the next two years she endured five surgeries, all of them at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.  I stayed with her throughout, but thanks to a good friend – another producer I’d worked with – I was able to keep a very cheap sublet in Los Angeles.  That’s how I was able to be out there in 2007 when Erik first talked about creating a show based on Little Red Riding Hood.

A producer named Tom Towler was the one who sent our initial proposal for the “Little Red” series to Jack. Jack liked the proposal but said he would not consider the project without a completed pilot spec.  He didn’t want to read any other specs and my resume didn’t matter.  To his credit, as soon as he read the pilot he signed us.

Erik: I went to film school in Philly; I wanted to be a DP.  I was supposed to go to Maine for this DP workshop where you got to work with all these famous DPs for a month, but the week before I was supposed to go, I was in a fork lift accident and crushed my foot.  I had to be off my feet for 6 months.  In the meantime a buddy said that we should move to LA when I got better; so we did.  The first thing we bought was a fax machine and I started faxing everywhere looking for PA jobs.  I was obsessed with Sam Raimi’s work and one day I got a call from Universal about a PA job for Renaissance Pictures, Sam Raimi’s company, on a TV series called “American Gothic.” I had a meeting with Robert Palm and Shaun Cassidy. I had no idea who these guys were, I was just excited it was Sam Raimi’s company. They interviewed me and liked me because I laughed so much (I’m sure it was because of how nervous I was).  I got to be their writers’ PA.  I was so nervous meeting Sam for the first time and he was so great. There were some terrific writers at the beginning of their careers on this show – Steve Gaghan and his then writing partner Michael Perry, and Mitchell Burgess and Robin Green. Steve De Jarnatt was a producer on that show and he used to come in with his theremin (it’s an electronic instrument that sounds like a singing saw) and want me to be his audience.  These guys fed me all this information – read this, write that, watch this.  It was all great! I took it all in.  And the bonus was there was lots of time to write. Shaun was my mentor, big time.  I was employed by him for 5-6 years. The last show I was on with him I was supposed to write an episode but I got a full time writing job on another show.  Honestly, I wish I would have stayed.

Neely: When did you become a writing team?

John: Erik and I had been friends for about ten years when he first suggested we work together on “Little Red”.  We spent time face-to-face working on the world building. We talked through the outline for the pilot, developed characters and broke stories for season one and beyond. It’s true, on a smaller scale that process goes on in staff story meetings all the time.  As I said, I’d never worked as a partner in a writing team before, and I’ve never sat in a room with someone and written a script.  I don’t think I could.  Our writing partnership wasn’t the usual in that sense, but I believe “Little Red” proved that it worked.

Erik: Two and a half years ago MGM was sold and we were all laid off.  John was out staying with a friend.  I told him my idea, wrote some pages up, and we said we should do this and see what we can do.

Neely: In looking at your credits, it would appear that you both have probably been working at other jobs as well since both of your credits show some significant lapses between writing jobs.

John: You can be quite successful and then have years out of work.  It’s tough and you need to have people around you who are willing to help and support you. I’ve been lucky that way.

Erik: On and off for the last ten years I’ve been working at MGM, first in development and most recently in distribution.

Neely: If you had to choose one medium to work in, what would it be and why.

John: I like both television and film.  I like the immediacy of TV; you write an episode and then a couple of months later you see it.  I have to admit that features can be like pulling teeth to get the script read, let alone getting it made.

Erik: I’m a filmmaker. I love to write and direct film and TV.  That’s my passion.

Neely: What else do you have in the hopper?

John: I’m working on a new pilot spec and I’ll give that to Jack before the start of hiring season.

Erik: John and I developed something for an independent producer who has studio ties.  It has a female heroine and it’s supernatural and I don’t want to say anything that will jinx it.  My name was thrown into the hopper as director for this presentation project and I’ve been working on it for free, so far.  I hope to finish in the next month so it can be sold to cable outlets. I’ve also been writing a feature and a TV pilot for Jack.

Neely: Thanks for your time and keep me posted on “Little Red”.  Really think about other ways to pursue this project.  I know there’s an audience, and probably a very big one, for your take on this story.  You’re writers, so write.

February 3, 2010

“Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged” – Samuel Johnson

The Associate by J. Mills Goodloe

What: Thom O’Daniel has just been accepted as an associate in the powerful DC law firm of Rittenhouse & Clover LLP.  All is not as it would appear.

Who: Fifteen years ago an innocent young man was sent to prison for a murder he didn’t commit.  An outsider at a prep school catering to the rich and powerful, Andy Linus was framed in the death of a female classmate during a raucous party at which he passed out.  By the time his case went to trial his alleged co-conspirator turned state’s evidence; Andy’s fingerprints and DNA were conspicuously at the scene of the crime; additional witnesses mysteriously appeared; his public defender gave up on him; and the judge sped through the trial eliminating most of Andy’s defense. Worse yet, as far as he was concerned, the letters he sent to his childhood sweetheart, Clara, all returned, unopened.  Angry, helpless and without protection Andy falls prey to guards and wardens intent on keeping him within their walls; but he remains determined to escape and clear his name, or at least discover who ruined his life.  Into his life and cell appears Milan Dotheo – a master of disguise and his future mentor.  Learning of Andy’s situation, Milan proposes an escape plan, predicated on Andy’s education.  Milan has kept a diary within his Bible, a diary that recounts his adventures and one that will reshape Andy into a brilliant man of the world.

Thom O’Daniel, Fulbright scholar, graduate of Stanford and Cambridge, with a three year stint in Paris at a law firm is the only associate candidate hired by Rittenhouse & Clover.  Step One of Thom’s plan has been set in motion, as he informs Gia, his young sister, partner and confidante, an expert in surveillance. At the law firm Thom insinuates himself onto the legal defense team of Gibson Logan, U.S. Congressman on trial for assault against a young female intern by pointing out that Logan is being defended by childhood friends, men whose familiarity with him might cause them to miss details. Thom quickly impresses the others with his preparation and knowledge. Working with the others on the team, Rex Filkins and Hutch Rittenhouse, son of the named partner and grandson of the founder, he observes that they begin to line up false witnesses beginning with a bartender who will testify that the girl had drunk 7 glasses of wine that evening.

Thom: Seven glasses of wine?

Hutch: …What?

Thom: I mean, at 110 pounds this girl would be unconscious.  Maybe the bartender should testify she had three, maybe four.  It’ll sound more plausible.

Rex thinks for a beat.

Rex: Re-interview the bartender. Have him testify the girl had four glasses of wine.

Thom and Gia’s carefully planted surveillance devices turn up the interesting detail that the law firm is on the Fed’s radar and that an FBI agent, Harold Jenkins, has been planted; more interesting is that the head of the firm is aware of it. In an “eerie” coincidence, Harold will later be killed in a convenience store robbery.

Relationships at the firm become more complicated when Preston Rittenhouse, name partner, anoints Rex as the next partner instead of his own son. Hutch had virtually guaranteed his beautiful wife that he was assured of this partnership.  Not only will this be devastatingly embarrassing for him but will cast a pall over the black-tie charity event they will be hosting that evening.

Thom is nearly undone when he is caught with a stolen file on Logan revealing Logan as the co-conspirator turned prosecution witness in a murder long ago, the murder for which Andy Linus was convicted.  Finessing the situation, Thom is able to use the file to uncover the nuances of the old case.

Thom: Andy Linus was convicted in a felony criminal case in which Gibson was originally included as a codefendant but later re-categorized a witness. So are you going to finally tell me what this is about?

Hutch: Andy Linus was a kid from school.  He was the son of an administrator, a kid from the wrong side of the tracks who we barely knew and who never fit in. One night, I guess something snapped – jealousy, envy, resentment.  Who knows what was going thru this guy’s head. He killed a fourteen year old girl and left her body under a bridge.

Thom: Did he confess to the crime?

Rex: He didn’t need to confess. His blood and fingerprints were all over the crime scene. He was convicted. He was sentenced. End of story.

Thom: Is there a chance this scumbag Linus might resurface? Because if he does, our defense will be blown to  hell.

Rex: You don’t have to worry about Andy Linus showing up.

Thom: How can you be so sure?

Rex: Because Andy Linus is dead.

Moving ahead with the defense, Rex has located a security tape from the garage on the night the assault allegedly took place and plans on asking for a dismissal based on the tape.  Hutch strenuously objects because it could backfire; they could win just on the elements.  Rex, the new partner, disdainfully dismisses his friend’s concerns, further exacerbating their rift. Thom, however, discovers that Rex had been looking at the tape from a different floor and that the real tape reveals the assault in gory detail.  He surreptitiously substitutes the tapes and assures jail time for the Congressman.  Step Two has been accomplished, but there are still many more steps to go in his pursuit of justice and retribution.  Step Three is set in motion on the night of the charity event when he “re”-introduces himself to the love of his life, Clara, now the wife of Hutch.

No Meaner Place: Legal shows are the fodder of TV land and this one breaks out by combining internal mystery and suspense with the legal workings of a law firm and the courtroom.  The suspense is not whether Andy/Thom will be caught, because therein lies the 100 stories, but how he will achieve his goals and how elegantly he will be able to do it.  This is surely not “convict a partner a week,” as we’d soon run out of stories, but it is a marvelous platform for unveiling and unraveling the corrupt practices of power in an extremely interesting venue – Washington.

An additional hook is in the flashback, a technique that I generally don’t enjoy, that would serve to fill in more of the interesting details of how Andy Linus became Thom O’Daniel – an “Educating Rita” with a sinister side.  There is actually no limit to the back story with its shady mentor, Milan Dotheo.  And think of the locations – prison, Switzerland, Paris, law school, Washington. Revenge, reward, adultery, closeted homosexuality, duplicity, family dysfunction, justice; what more could you ask for?  Network or cable, it fills a lot of gaps.  Once again – what am I missing here?

Life Lessons for Writers:  If it was yours to sell in the first place, sell it again. Someone out there is just waiting for the opportunity to prove that the last regime made the wrong choices.

Conversation with the Writer:

Mills: I hadn’t looked at this script in a really long time when I got word that you wanted to write about it. I think the dialogue could have been better and maybe I could have made it a bit less confusing, but overall I think there’s a great show in there. So thanks for making me revisit it and thanks for expressing such confidence in it.

Neely: How did this project come about?

Mills: I had pitched something to Fox Studios and they liked it; but when they took the pitch out it was passed on in record time by 3 networks.  Fox gave me a blind script as part of their commitment and I wrote “The Associate” for them. It never got off the ground but it will come back to me in April.

Neely: Maybe they were worried about the 100 stories.

Mills: Don’t know.  I only took it to the 4 broadcast networks.  I should have taken it to cable.  I sort of soured on the whole process and went back to the feature world that I understood better.

Neely: The bar for good legal shows (that was a terrible pun, wasn’t it?) is quite high and you jumped over it with this one.  I saw the influence of traditional legal shows as well as films like “The Usual Suspects” and “Inside Man.”  What inspired you to write this one?

Mills: I had done an adaptation of a non-legal John Grisham book – Bleachers – which, coincidentally had a character named Neely.

Neely: Let me guess.  It was a boy and his full name was Cornelius.

Mills: Right! Anyway, I wanted to know more about Grisham’s writing, so I started reading his legal thrillers. I thought The Firm captured lightning in a bottle. Why not do The Firm for television? Around that time I was also considering doing The Count of Monte Cristo as a feature, and that became my primary influence.  Structurally, “The Associate” is more like The Count of Monte Cristo than The Firm.  It’s about someone who’s one person and then he’s wronged and comes back as a different person to take revenge.  I also knew I had to add a procedural element.

Neely: Besides the partners, who else will Thom avenge?  After all, he can’t always undermine the firm’s cases.  I also loved the possibilities of uncovering the circumstances of the FBI agent’s death as well as the juicy details of what was being investigated.

Mills: Actually I had 70 people on a bulletin board that Andy had made while he was in prison – judges, DAs, cops, wardens, and then leading up to the clients of the firm in DC, all of whom were complicit in sending him up or keeping him there.  This law firm has files on everyone, much like the mob controlled law firm in The Firm.  Andy/Thom is a mole.  But there is ambiguity because a lot of the people he thinks were wrong, weren’t.  There are shades of gray.  He’s judge and executioner and sometimes the lines aren’t so clear cut.

The “A” story would be about The Firm; the “B” story would be The Count of Monte Cristo.

Neely: Who was this written for? Did you get any good notes?

Mills: As I mentioned, this was part of a blind script deal.  Their main edict was that it had to be procedural with soapy elements.  I wasn’t comfortable with some of the soapy elements, like the father/son conflict; the closeted homosexual; the home life difficulties. I would like to make it a cable show and pull back on some of the soap.

Neely: How close did this come?  Any thought on trying again with it or putting it into a different medium – mystery/thriller novel or even feature film (where the odds are just a slim if not more so than television)?

Mills: The networks passed on it very quickly.  I didn’t understand the process.  You just sit by the phone and wait to hear if they bought it; unlike in features where you have some interaction with the potential buyers.  I have thought of making it a feature.

Neely: But if you made it a feature you’d have to tell the story linearly and that would take away one of the most interesting elements – the back and forth between Andy’s ongoing learning process and the present day with Thom.  With a novel you could weave back and forth in time and be allowed a more expansive expository style.

Mills: That’s true, but I’d like to think I could sell it as a modern take on The Count of Monte Cristo. As for a novel, that would take at least three years, but, yes, there’s a lot I could do.  One thing that really annoyed me about television was the 6 act structure.  I was always being told that I needed to have a POW element before cutting to commercial.  It seems so arbitrary.

Neely: How did you get started?  I noticed that before this, your whole career had been in features, starting as Richard Donner’s assistant.  Let’s talk a bit about your beginnings in the industry.  What was the first job you got in the industry?

Mills: Working for Richard Donner was my first job.  In college, I went on an overseas program called “Semester at Sea.”  Chris Silbermann, now one of the heads of ICM, was a classmate and his dad, a senior marketing executive at Columbia, got me the interview.  I didn’t know anything about anything and started as Donner’s third assistant, eventually graduating to producing some of his films.  I left in 2000 because I had written and directed an Indie called “A Gentlemen’s Game.”  Richard was very helpful to me and I had learned as much as I could.  It was time for me to be my own man, which he encouraged.

Neely: Working as a director/producer’s assistant is usually more the path for a producer.  What did you do for him and how did that lead you to writing.

Mills: Writing was always my chosen profession.  Working with Richard brought me into contact with some really talented writers like Brian Helgeland, Channing Gibson, Al Gough and Miles Millar.  Brian wrote “Conspiracy Theory” and I was a producer on it.  Channing, Al and Miles wrote “Lethal Weapon 4.”  I learned from them.

Neely: It was quite a long apprenticeship.  How did that first screenplay assignment come about?

Mills: When I left Donner it was to direct a film, and the only way I would be allowed to direct was if I wrote the script.  I found a wonderful novel called A Gentlemen’s Game and that was the start of my writing. It was financed through private equity.  I raised the money and made the movie.  Then I wrote a second script called “August and Everything After” that was supposed to be my second film.  The script was very well received but I still haven’t found the funding.  I just haven’t been able to put the whole thing together.   Annette Benning and Pierce Brosnan were interested in starring.  In any case it helped me get my agents.  It’s also when I realized that I needed a career and was able to get some writing assignments.  The Grisham book, Bleachers, was my first assignment and then I was well on my way making a living as a writer.

Neely: I noticed that you have quite a few scripts in development.  How many are on the cusp of production and what is in development hell.

Mills: “Wonderful Tonight” is pretty active and so is “Playing for Pizza,” another Grisham adaptation.  “Bleachers” is stalled because it was with Revolution Studios and it took quite a while to extricate it.  Phoenix Pictures is now trying to put it together.

Neely: Are you still interested in developing for television?

Mills: Yes.  I’ll just have to approach it differently.  I’ll definitely jump in this year. I think my writing has definitely improved since I wrote that draft – or at least I’d like to think that my writing is taking that arc. I’m glad you prodded me into reading “The Associate” again.  I know just how to do it better this time.

Neely: How do you view the writing process overall?

Mills: I’ve had a good run and I hope it will keep going.  I have real hopes for getting “Wonderful Tonight” off the ground.  Christine Jeffs has come on board to direct and we’ve had some great meetings. She did “Sunshine Cleaning.” I’ve written 14 or 15 drafts of “Wonderful Tonight.” There are some scenes I’ve gone over hundreds of times. I really love this piece.

Neely: So are you still in touch with Chris Silbermann?

Mills: We fell out of touch over the years but we’re going to reconnect soon.  I just got an email from another friend from the “Semester at Sea” who has proposed a reunion.  So it’s going to happen.  I think of Chris’ father so often; he was such a talented and generous man.

Neely: Let me know how it goes. Maybe there’s a script in this reunion.

Tomorrow I will be posting an article on Baseline Studio System entitled “Women Can’t Create and White Men Can’t Jump.” This year’s pilot season has been horrible for women writers.  Please read and let me know what you think.

http://www.blssresearch.com/research-wrap?detail/C7/women_cant_create_and_white_men_cant_jump

neely@nomeanerplace.com

January 20, 2010

“It is no use saying, ‘We are doing our best.’ You have got to succeed in doing what is necessary.” – Winston Churchill

King of the Road by Michael Oates Palmer

What: Detroit is undergoing a retrenchment crisis and Baker Motors will go under if drastic measures aren’t taken.

Who: A cancer is growing in the Detroit headquarters of the nearly insolvent Baker Motors, aspirant to big three status.  When alcoholic reviled General Manager Ed Thornhill becomes road kill in an accident because of his abhorrence of seatbelts, the shambles of poor production, bad book keeping, cost overruns, labor unrest and general disharmony becomes undeniable and the Old Man, as the CEO is known,  appoints an outsider, the Ivy League-educated, Robert McNamara look-alike, Dick Pratt, appointed over pretty boy, company-culture drenched Baker Motors lifer Jack Mileski. Jack, the best cheerleader Baker Motors could ever hope for is blindsided by the Old Man’s disloyalty and will stop at nothing to undermine and destroy Pratt.  Pratt, an outsider in every manner of speaking, still clings to his intellectual life in Ann Arbor with his political activist wife and autistic son.  Jack, on the other hand, revels in the trappings of success with his big house, beautiful, bored wife and angry teenage son.  For trappings are what they are – symbols of success – to show off but not necessarily care for.  His celebration with the family at the local country club on the evening before Thornhill’s funeral was, to say the least, premature.  His solace is taken at the home of Cassie, the beautiful young African American Baker Motors cafeteria waitress.  There is a familiarity between them that speaks of a long term secret relationship involving a “love child.”  Ellen, Jack’s wife, bored out of her mind with Jack and her life in suburbia has her own extra-curricular activities with Cliff.  There “solace” is carried out in low rent hourly motel rooms – delicious, illicit sex and nothing but.

Jack’s true love is cars – Baker Motors’ cars and especially his new baby, the Mariah; and it’s all personal because he has already promised the assembly line that they will continue with its production and that production will be nowhere but in Detroit.  Dick Pratt, however, has other ideas and this is where a battle of Shakespearean proportions will play out between them because Dick Pratt is not a car person, he’s a money person and after going over the books, he realizes that the situation is worse than even he imagined. The sloppy bookkeeping reeks of fraud:

Pratt: You are the Vice President in charge of assembly.  How much did it cost to assemble each Renata coupe?

Humphries: How much do you want it to cost?

Pratt: I think you misunderstood.  I’m not talking about our goals for the future. I’m just asking what it’s cost in the past.

Humphries: And I’m saying to you. For the purposes of your accounting. You tell me how much you want it to have cost. And I’ll give you that number.

In order to right the company drastic measures will have to be taken and he may have to move operations out of Detroit, cut production, cut jobs, and certainly cut the Mariah.  Knowing that his pet project is on the line, Jack informs Cliff, his close friend and chief stylist of Baker Motors, that he must find a way to cut design costs on the Mariah. Cliff, believing that the company’s fortunes rest with designing a car similar to the VW Bug, resists until:

Jack: You’ve been sleeping with Ellen for ten months.

Cliff: You’re crazy.

Jack: Don’t do that. Give me a little credit. That I know what’s been going on. You’re wondering, how long has he known? Since it began.  Since you had the idea of it in a drunk daydream. I’ve let it go on as long as I have. Not for her sake. Or mine. But for yours.

Cliff: My sake?

Jack: I need you on top of your game. I know the women, they always help you with that. Remember the six months, years ago, when you got religion? When you didn’t drink? Didn’t screw? You turned in the worst work of your fucking career. (beat, then) You’ll never commit to any of them, buddy. I’d rather my wife be with you, than some guy who might actually try to take her away.

Jack walks over to Cliff.

Jack: The Mariah can save this company, Cliff.

Cliff, annihilated by this conversation, barely manages to speak.

Jack, looking for more angles, discovers that Dick’s departure from Ford was precipitated by mental issues and begins to look for ways to use this capital to his advantage beginning with undermining Dick’s fragile family.  At Jack’s urging, the Old Man forces Dick to move his family from their home and friends in Ann Arbor to the tony, acquisitive suburbs of Detroit; he then torpedoes Dick’s plans to scrap the Mariah and move part of production to Arkansas.  The only concession is that Dick will be allowed to consolidate production in Detroit, closing one plant and throwing hundreds out of work.  Jack has won this battle but the war is far from over as his lieutenants, tiring of his autocratic leadership, slowly start to defect to Dick.

A resonance with today’s difficulties in the automotive industry?  You betcha! Except this is 1966.

No Meaner Place: Is this Pulitzer Prize winning material?  No, of course not.  This is a great big juicy soap opera and what the world needs every so often is a great big juicy soap opera where everyone is sleeping with everyone else and tensions abound and villains wear black hats and the setting is something we all understand.  Although clearly influenced by the “Mad Men” phenomenon, which may have been viewed as an impediment, there should still be room for a period piece that has clear resonance to today’s troubled times in Detroit (or at least what’s left of it).

American Motors, troubled in the 60s, did last into the 70s with a car that saved it from the grim reaper for a few years – the Gremlin, a joke punch line that predated the move to compact cars at GM, Ford and Chrysler.  It would have been fun to follow the making of that car and the eventual dissolution of the company, again predating the troubles of today.

Where would this go?  Who cares?  The characters are fun, the setting is familiar and written in such a way as to limit production costs – hell, Michigan is looking to fund series and features that would come to Detroit and use the abandoned automotive facilities still standing. AH!  To return to an era of conspicuous consumption, haves and have-nots, hypocrisy, financial mayhem, creative accounting, war protests, campus unrest, labor union strife, and a president with a funny name who has a clear domestic agenda and a very flawed foreign policy.

Life Lessons for Writers:  Altogether now – NBC, a company living out its own soap opera.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: I’ve actually been aware of your writing since 2003 when I read your spec pilot entitled “Gracie Mansion” when you were a staff writer on “West Wing.”  I vaguely remember that one of the things you brought to the table was a background in politics.  Is that correct?

Michael: Yes.  It’s really a family background thing.  I was steeped in politics at an early age.  My maternal grandfather was president of a Teamsters’ Local in Philly; he was a dyed in the wool Democrat.  My paternal grandfather got involved with left-wing politics in California; I guess you could say he was something of a Socialist.  He went to Berkeley with the guys involved in the Manhattan Project; his degree was in engineering.  His Socialist background kept him off the oil rigs he was trained to work on because he couldn’t get a security clearance so he ended up working at a meat packing plant as a renderer – it was as bad as it sounds.  My mother dropped out of Penn to be a political reporter in the 60s at UPI.  After she left UPI she became the deputy press secretary to Eugene McCarthy during his ’68 Presidential campaign.  She met my dad at Berkeley when he was student body president from ’68-’69.  Later he was the head of another student organization that got him on Nixon’s Enemies List.  Dad went to Yale for law school and Mom went to Yale for Divinity School.  They were there with both Clintons – they were supposedly on the Clintons’ first double date — and I have this great picture of the four of them where you either go “Wow! Look at Bill Clinton’s hair!” or you go “Where on earth did your mom get those boots?”  My parents divorced in 1981, and they shared custody; it was all very civilized and everyone got along.  My mom married my stepdad, Bob Shrum, in 1987.  Bob had a big career in politics, first as a speechwriter for George McGovern and Ted Kennedy and then later as John Kerry’s chief strategist.

I never really wanted to get involved in politics because I’d already seen behind the curtain; I wanted to work in film and TV and went to AFI toward that goal.  But when I first tried to land a TV writing job in 2001, there was talk of a writers’ strike and all the jobs dried up. So I went back east to New York for a job as a speech writer for Mark Green who was running for mayor.  It was a great job for a writer.  I went from writing speeches about reforming trash collection, and then 9/11 happened, and suddenly I was writing a eulogy for the fire chaplain who was killed.  I came back to LA after Mark lost the election to Bloomberg and I landed a staff writing job on “The West Wing.”

Neely: You’ve come a long way as a writer as far as I’m concerned.  You’ve always leaned toward soap opera, first with “Gracie Mansion,” then with “Gonzo,” and now with “King of the Road.”  With each pilot you’ve dug deeper and fleshed out your characters more so that now you’ve reached a point where there is depth in both the situation and the characters.

Michael: Well, you always hope that’s the arc your writing will take.

Neely: I remember that Margaret Nagle was somewhat taken aback when I referred to “The Eastmans” as a soap opera, but quite honestly any character-based series with a serial thru-line is, at the root of it, a soap opera.  Any comments? Agree? Disagree?

Michael: Fundamentally, I guess I agree, although writers recoil from the term, because it brings to mind Linda Evans and Joan Collins in a cat fight.  I prefer the phrase “character-oriented drama.”  I always loved the work of Zwick/Herskovitz on “thirtysomething;” and Josh Brand and John Falsey’s shows “Northern Exposure” and “I’ll Fly Away.” “Homicide” was an ensemble show with serialized character arcs, so that was, in its own way, a soap opera, too.  They made me want to write for TV.  “The Sopranos,” “Six Feet Under,” “The Shield,” even, to a certain extent “The Wire” all fit into that rubric.

There’s an art to writing a good “Law and Order.”  Plot is hard and a good mystery plot is hardest. But I was a character writer who kept getting put on procedurals and it wasn’t a good fit.  In character dramas, you’re less interested in the process of the job, and more in how the job affects the characters and how the other characters affect the characters. Luckily things have opened up a bit since 2003 when it seemed like everything was a procedural.

When my producing partner on “King of the Road,” Laverne McKinnon, and I took it out there, eventually selling it to Showtime, we embraced the term soap opera.  We thought of it as a Trojan Horse – emphasize the salacious, sexy soap opera parts of the show to sell it, so that we could also explore themes that might at first glance seem more cerebral or intellectual. FX specializes in male-oriented soaps. The audience loves these shows as long as they are set in interesting surroundings.  You know, legal shows and medical shows don’t work if there’s not a courtroom or an ER.  There has to be a place for them to connect. I’ve always been drawn to ensembles.

Neely: Your rise has been steady since the “West Wing” with a heavy dose of legal – “Blind Justice” and “Shark” with a dose of whimsy in “Cupid.”

Michael: I feel as if there have been setbacks and strong years. But the biggest setbacks have led to even bigger opportunities.  I wrote “Gracie Mansion” as a spec after losing my job on “West Wing” when Aaron Sorkin left the show and the new regime arrived.  The first good thing that happened with that script is that it brought me new representation with Ann Blanchard and Lanny Noveck, then at William Morris.  I’d been unemployed for a year and they sent the script to Steven Bochco who hired me on his new show “Blind Justice.”

I liked working on my next show, “In Justice.” There are writers who do well when they are motivated by the fear of disappointing the angry parent.  I always did better wanting to please the good parent.  Every writer has been in the position of needing help in the beginning and it wasn’t until “In Justice” that someone took that kind of interest in me – Jeff Melvoin (“Picket Fences,” “Northern Exposure,” “Alias”) who was running the room on the show.  Also at about this time, Lanny knew I could use a big brother figure.  He said, “There’s a client of mine I’d like you to meet.” “Is he running a show?” I asked. “Not right now.  His name is Robert Nathan (“Law & Order,” “SVU,” “CI”).” He just thought we’d hit it off. Robert and I had lunch together – a lunch that went on for three hours; I felt I’d known him forever and realized I’d made a friend for life.  Both Robert and Jeff were and are so generous with their time and spirit, and were patient with a young writer’s arrogance and entitlement – it made a huge impact. I like meeting other writers with experience. I’m always going to do better with a grownup than a 32 year old comic book guy.

My next job was on “Shark,” but like most of the other procedurals, this one didn’t play to my strengths. Losing my job on “Shark” opened up the door to development and I sold three pilots in two years.  This led to my being considered for shows that were better fits.  I loved working on “Cupid,” Rob Thomas’s series where I also got to work with Jill Gordon (“The Wonder Years”), Cindy Chupack (“Sex and the City”) and Diane Ruggiero (“Veronica Mars”).  There is a quote by Tolstoy that reminds me of most writers’ rooms – “All happy families resemble one another; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”  This was a happy writers’ room; no one on “Cupid” was Machiavellian; it was pretty douchebag-free.

Neely: You came close on your pilot called “Gonzo.”  Where did you shop this one and what kinds of comments did you get?

Michael: This was a pilot I wrote on spec at the end of “In Justice.”  It was a pilot about war correspondents in Central America in the early 80s that I did as a writing sample, but Ann and Lanny sent it to a couple of executives at two small production companies.  One of the companies had a deal with Touchstone so an executive named Dan Pipski at Live Planet, the Matt Damon/Ben Affleck company, sent it over to what’s now called ABC Studios.  But ABC Studios was developing a war correspondent pilot with Shonda Rhimes so they couldn’t do it.  It then went to Adelstein-Parouse, who sold it to 20th Century Fox’s television studio.  But 20th didn’t feel it could work on network television.  Meanwhile, Scott Pennington, another exec then at Touchstone, saw that AMC was doing the “Mad Men” pilot and out of the blue just sent it to Christina Wayne, then at AMC in New York.  She loved it and wanted to do it.  At that same time, 20th released “Gonzo,” turning their deal for it into a blind script deal, allowing “Gonzo” to go to AMC.  Unfortunately, a year later, there was a change in regime and the new execs didn’t respond to it.  “Gonzo” originally arriving at ABC Studios changed my career.  That Scott Pennington would like it enough to send it somewhere he thought it might fit, to an executive he’d never even met, still blows me away.  As an interesting side note, a few years later I was at ABC Family to meet with an exec who was unavailable so they asked if I might be able to talk to someone in her place.  That someone was Scott Pennington, and I finally got a chance to say thank you.

Neely: Why did this topic – Detroit and the automotive industry – resonate with you.  It must have taken a lot of research.

Michael: Research is the fun part. I was a history major at Brown, and my honors thesis was about Congress going after rock ‘n roll in the 50s. My thesis advisor, Howard Chudacoff, one of the great urban historians, was a great influence.  For me, the best part of development is reading books.  With “King of the Road,” I was totally into baseball until I was 13, then and ever after it was rock ‘n roll — I was never that guy with posters of cars on the wall.  But a few years ago I was watching Errol Morris’ documentary “The Fog of War” about Robert McNamara, who before he was Secretary of Defense was one of the “whiz kids” that saved Ford Motors. Here was a guy who thought he could solve and explain everything with numbers.  That was a character I wanted to delve into.  I wanted to explore an America that used to make things and how when we lost that, we lost something essential. I wanted to explore how men work together and how they fight.  And how the worst wars sometimes don’t have a single drop of blood shed.  This was an “art vs. commerce” story – there were men who were first and foremost about the cars, and there were men who were instead, like McNamara, all about the company.  We’d already seen so many shows and movies about the late 60s, all focusing on the counter culture.  I wanted to go from blue collar to elite, go from Johnson to Nixon. It was a fantastic sandbox to play in.

I spent a year researching King of the Road, in part because I had two other pilots that were both still alive at AMC and ABC.  Once the AMC one, “Gonzo,” died, Laverne McKinnon, who was working as the TV producer for director Mike Newell (”Four Weddings and a Funeral,” “Donnie Brasco,” “Harry Potter 4″)  and I pitched it to FX, HBO, and Showtime.  FX liked it, but passed due to fear of “Mad Men” similarities; HBO passed; and Showtime bought it.

Showtime had a very high-class problem: all of their shows on the air were working for them. This meant they had little in the way of needs — as evidenced by their not ordering to series any of the four pilots they had produced in 2009, including projects with prominent talent involved (a Peter Tolan pilot starring Matthew Perry, another project produced by Jenji Kohan, and a pilot directed by Tim Robbins). Out of thirty or so pilot scripts, they ended up only ordering one to be produced, a half-hour about cancer with Laura Linney attached, which was recently ordered to series.  Gary Levine and Danielle Gelbar at Showtime were very supportive of our project and took a chance on it, but the concern that FX had proved to be the concern that Showtime had — even though we felt there were real differences between this and “Mad Men,” it was still a show about men doing business in the 1960s.

It also probably lacked enough of what has become Showtime’s brand in recent years — a high concept with a jaw-dropping twist.  ”Weeds” is about a soccer mom… who becomes a drug dealer.  ”Dexter” is about a serial killer… who works for the Miami police department.  ”Californication” is about a sex addict… who loves his wife. Laverne and I tried to frame “King of the Road” in a similar way — “it’s a show about war… in the battlefield of American business,” but in the end, it might have been a show better suited for HBO or FX.

Neely: Brands change and shows go off the air, so maybe there’s hope. You’re absolutely right about how interesting the history is and maybe someone will revisit. There was just so much to tap into.  While I was trying to fill in some of the gaps I discovered the blood bath in the Fifties between Hudson, Nash, Packard and Studebaker and that George W. Romney, the former presidential candidate’s father, headed Nash Studebaker before becoming Governor of Michigan – yet another confluence of the two eras.

Michael: Well, in a way it was also a family influence that led me to this story.  When I was a kid, my Grandfather Ray, the Teamster organizer, would drive me around the industrial part of Philly and show me all the boarded up warehouses and point to one of them and say “Dead;” then to another and say “dead; and so on, many many times. I remember going through Trenton, NJ and there was this big sign that said “Trenton Makes. America Takes.” That world doesn’t exist anymore.  First there was the manufacturing in the Rust Belt; then it was moved to the so-called “right-to-work” South; and then everything was moved overseas.  We no longer Make.

Neely: I noticed that you are now working on “Rubicon” for AMC.

Michael: “Rubicon” is the show that beat out “Gonzo” in the production derby.  I’m working with some great writers on that show and am looking forward to seeing how it all turns out.

Neely: I noticed that Henry Bromell, who worked for many years on one of your favorites, “Homicide,” is the showrunner.  Please say hello to him for me.

January 6, 2010

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” – William Faulkner

Filed under: Conversations With, Cosin, Pilots, Pilots not produced, Writers — Tags: , , — Neely Swanson @ 9:57 am

“Chapel Hill” by Elizabeth Cosin

What: Lucy Remington Wright finds herself at age 38 back where she began so promisingly with a daughter to support, no education and on her own for the first time in fifteen years.

Who: Lucy Wright received a triple blow when she discovered that her husband, George, a newly appointed partner in Lucy’s father’s Manhattan law firm, had been cheating on her, that her father knew about it and that the SEC was closing in on George for investment fraud.  Soon to be divorced, Lucy, all of whose assets and property have been frozen by the SEC, packs up her rebellious 13 year old daughter Zoe and decides to move back to the one place where she had felt support, comfort and promise – “Chapel Hill”, NC.  She had left college to marry George and now feels an irresistible pull to start again where she left off.  Zoe, a child of Upper East Side privilege is very none too happy about this decision and begins plotting her return before they have even left the state. Already arguing about radio music on the drive out of the city – Lucy likes James Taylor, Zoe likes Eminem and there is no twain there:

Zoe: You kidnap me to Hicksville and I don’t even have my iPod anymore.  What’s the government want with it anyway?

Lucy: Probably for homeland security.  Spook the terrorists.

Zoe: It’s not funny.  I really love my iPod.  I need it.  Especially where we’re going.

Lucy: You know they have running water in “Chapel Hill”.  And electricity, too.

Zoe: If it was so great, why didn’t you stay?

Lucy: I dropped out of college to marry your father.  I guess right now that’s not looking like the smartest thing I ever did, huh?

Living arrangements in “Chapel Hill” are abysmal and Lucy’s work prospects are even worse until Garland Rucker, a friend from her past, offers her a receptionist job at his chaotic legal aid office.  Lucy immediately digs in and reaching out when she encounters the desperate mother of a Muslim student who has been expelled from the University because of a cheating scandal.  As the mother explains, her daughter, a star student and champion soccer player, couldn’t possibly done what the school alleges, but the daughter refuses to defend herself; Garland has closed the case because of the girl’s lack of cooperation.  A preliminary, off the books investigation leads Lucy to believe in the girl’s innocence and a possible conspiracy on the part of another student and a powerful faculty member.

Zoe has seemingly adjusted well at school, having attracted the attention of the popular girls.  Her comfort is short lived, however, when she participates in a hurtful scheme concocted by her new “friends.”  Zoe, alienated by her surroundings and feeling abandoned decides that she will return back to New York and live with her father.  Lucy, hurt by Zoe’s decision, supports it nonetheless, making sure that Zoe knows that she will always be there for her.

Zoe exits the First Avenue bus terminal.  She sees a man holding up a sign with her name on it.

Zoe: where’s my Dad?

Driver: He had to leave town for a few days.  Everything you need is at the apartment.

Zoe: When will he be back?

Driver: He didn’t say.

She soon returns to her mother, determined to make the best of what she still considers a pitiful situation.

No Meaner Place: Cosin has written a warm, interesting character piece that, in the best tradition of both comedy and drama, is essentially about a fish-out-of-water adjusting to a new, smaller aquarium.  The character of Lucy, though wounded, is a strong, resilient role model who decides that in order to move on with life she needs to start back at the point where she made her first missteps, as she realized almost immediately that leaving school and marrying George were colossal mistakes and that making the best of bad situations isn’t the same as moving in a positive direction.  Zoe is a marvelous depiction of a teenager with all the contradictions of personality that exist –petulant/enthusiastic, hateful/loving, rude/considerate.  As in all well-constructed pilots, we know who these characters are and eagerly await their growth and learning curves as they face new circumstances.

CBS commissioned this script in the 2005/2006 pilot season for possible launch in the 2006/2007 broadcast season but did not produce it to pilot.  I would still like to believe that it is unusual for something of this quality not to get a green light.  Researching that pilot season on Studio System I found that of the 121 scripts that CBS bought, 28 were produced – 12 dramas (among which was “Orpheus” by Nick Meyer), and 16 comedies. The shows that premiered in the 2006/2007 broadcast season were “Smith,” “Rules of Engagement,” “3 Lbs” (reshot from the previous pilot season), “The Class,” “Jericho,” and “Shark” – 4 dramas and 2 comedies, only one of which, “Rules of Engagement, may still be on the schedule.  Elizabeth was in excellent company as Ed Bernero, Denise Di Novi, Tim Kring, Barry Sonnenfeld,  Barry Schindel and Shane Black all wrote scripts that went unproduced.

The good news in this bad news situation is that since this very well written script was not produced, it will within a short time return to Cosin’s control; and as she writes of a universal situation, it does not have an expiration date.  More interesting, though, would be to try to interest the CW or a cable network such as Lifetime to take this to series.

Life Lessons for Writers:  If they don’t make it you’ll get it back. But better yet, if they don’t make it the first time, find a reason for them to make it the next time.

Conversation with the Writer:

Neely: Elizabeth, in the interest of full disclosure, everyone should know that we’ve been friends for a long time.  That being said, sending me your script was risky because I have always told you how I felt one way or the other – sometimes good, sometimes not.

Elizabeth: I’ve always respected your opinion and knew you’d be honest about it. I’m just glad you liked it.

Neely: You now live up in the Sonoma region.  What prompted the move?  Don’t you find it more difficult to maintain a footing as a working writer when you’re away from the scene? I’m sure that part of the incentive for living far from the maddening crowd (the actual expression is “Madding” but since that refers to sheep and you’re closer to sheep up there than you would be down here, I changed it) is the love of gastronomy you share with Ignacio, your partner.  I can envision the two of you giving Alice Waters a real run for her money.  What did you serve at your most recent dinner party?

Elizabeth: The main thing that prompted the move was worry about the real estate market and a possible writers strike. Both of us are freelancers and our income isn’t consistent so the prospect of facing a mortgage in uncertain times was daunting. We took a chance and put our Santa Monica house on the market and got a great offer. After that, it was deciding on where to go from there. We picked a small town in Sonoma where we’d vacationed a few times and think we’ve found our forever home.

While we adjusted to small town life very quickly, work-wise it’s been a lot of trial-and-error.  Early on, I probably didn’t get down to Los Angeles enough and then we had the strike and the only trips I made to L.A. were to walk the picket line. But I think it’s possible I needed the time away from the “big city’ to regroup and also to re-examine my creative life, to ask the tough questions of what I wanted to write and more important to finish projects that for one reason or another were gathering dust.

I started getting down to LA a lot last year and have a regular crash pad there which has made it easier to be consistent about going. I’m there for a week or two every few weeks and it’s worked out great. At first, I kept the move quiet but I’ve found it’s helped more than hurt. First, I’ve got way less stress in my life and second, people love the idea that I had the “guts” to make such a big move and to live in an idyllic place.  They have no idea how easy it is though – and it’s not like I’m that far from L.A. – six hours by car or an hour by plane.

Plus the one great thing about living away from L.A. is being away from the L.A. scene. It’s not only the various distractions, it’s the expectations that can really crush a writer’s spirit. Down in L.A. you’re always hearing about who did what when and everybody’s in the business and the pressure can get to you, no matter who you are.  Up here, the pace is slow and steady, people don’t care what you do for a living and there’s a great creative vibe that comes from people who work the land, or in kitchens or as artists. I’m sure that sounds like a cliché, but when I was living in L.A. I didn’t see how much I was caught up in stuff that doesn’t matter. I mean I take myself way less seriously up here. My friends and family count this as a good thing.

This year I rented a small office in town which has been a real godsend. It’s on the second floor of an old winery building – a small room with no windows to the outside, no phone. It’s a great environment for writing – I find there are days when I totally lose track of time.

When I’m not writing, I have this amazing landscape all around me. It’s like living in France or Italy – all these rolling hillsides and vistas that go on forever and the two-lanes that snake around past old farmhouses, giant oaks and of course acres of vineyards. That’s just what I see on a routine drive into town . It’s been more than three years now and I haven’t tired of it. I mean I love L.A. and I can see living there again, but it’s pretty amazing how much a little quiet, a lot of beauty and almost total lack of traffic does to lower your stress level and improve your general disposition. And even better, it makes you pay attention a lot more to the things around you. As a writer, that’s invaluable and I think maybe something I forgot to do when I was in the middle of the rat race.

Of course, the proximity to the land is part of the great adventure – exciting too because we’re practically at ground zero for this country’s burgeoning new fresh food movement. As you know we’ve been big fans of great food and there’s nothing like living practically on top of it. We buy almost everything at the source from meat to cheese to fruits and vegetables – it’s a rare meal where I don’t know exactly where my food came from or who grew and/or farmed it. Ignacio has flourished here too and has collected lots of fans among the locals, farmers and chefs included. Our last dinner party was Christmas Eve. We had broccoli and leek soup with foraged chanterelles, fresh pasta with hand-picked local crab and local rack of lamb marinated in garlic, olive oil and as Ignacio says “all the herbs the lamb eats”.

Neely: You’ve written a series of three mystery novels with a terrific protagonist – Zen Moses, a zaftig detective who is a lung cancer survivor – much like yourself.  I always thought it would be the perfect vehicle for Camryn Manheim.  I was disappointed that it never made it to series – again it was CBS that passed, but what about that third book?  (This has been an ongoing conversation between us for some time).

Elizabeth: I still think Zen would make a great TV series but we sold it at the wrong time. Former Paramount exec Stacey Adams  (now with CBS) and Kelly Edwards (who I think is also with CBS now) were the big fans of the project but I think CBS really wanted another procedural – and why not? They had so much success with the CSI franchise and shows like Without a Trace and Cold Case. Zen is really a character drama masquerading as a detective show – closer to, say Rockford Files than CSI and while I was willing to explore the potential of it as a procedural, I think everybody involved knew my heart wasn’t in it.

Neely: I look forward to reading a new version, one that stays closer to your vision.  It’s been my experience that passion projects that are “adapted” to a studio’s proposed need rather than the “need” of the work or the artist never turn out as intended by either party.  One can always insert a procedural element – which by any other phrase is just a mystery to be solved – in a work of detective fiction (for, after all, what is detective fiction but a mystery to be solved?).  I still believe that the audience is hungry for character.

Elizabeth: At the time, CBS wanted Zen to be a cop, partly because they were worried about where the cases would come from.  I understand a lot of this came from the trouble the networks have had in developing detective shows with female leads. Their ideas and choices were interesting and I tried to make them work but I think ultimately we just had different visions for the show. I’m not wed to Zen as written in the books – I realize I will have to make changes to adapt it to TV, but there’s one or two elements I just didn’t want to move off of and that was where we got stuck. I’m grateful that CBS believed in the project in the first place – maybe we’ll revisit together one day.  I’ve been working on a new version of the pilot, my update of and homage to the detective genre. I’ll let you know if I pull it off.

Neely: You have one of the most interesting backgrounds that I’ve encountered.  As I recall you were a sports writer.  How did that start and is it still ongoing?

Elizabeth: Sports writing was a job I sort of fell into but grew to love. I definitely learned more about writing well from sports writing than any other job I’ve had. The single most defining moment of my life (so far) was getting lung Cancer in my 20s. When I got sick I was writing for a metro newspaper covering business but when I came back, I was kind of casting about for a new direction.  The initial prognosis wasn’t good and there was a period there where I was forced to consider my own mortality. Nobody wants to have those thoughts ever but especially no one in their mid-20s and to say it rocked my world would be an obvious understatement. Those uncertain weeks really made me reconsider my place in the world, my future, my life and what I would do with myself if I didn’t have a lot of time left. One of the people who helped me through was the sports editor of my paper and he’s the one who convinced me to try writing sports – after all, I’ve always been a big fan. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done but I really learned about myself as a writer and was great training for my leap to fiction.

Neely: What an inspiring story, especially that you were nurtured at a time you needed it the most.  I’ve always followed sports writing because I’ve always considered it the best writing in the paper.  Historically some of our greatest American writers wrote for the Sports Pages – Ring Lardner (Chicago Tribune), Damon Runyon (New York American), both famous for their short stories; Jim Murray (Los Angeles Times) and Red Smith (New York Times) both of whom elevated sports writing to the art of the essayist; and Roger Angell (New Yorker) whose annual wrap-up of the baseball season is reason enough to subscribe to the magazine.  I have particularly liked the books on baseball and baseball figures written by David Halberstam and George Will.

As a journalist and professional writer, what do you think has been the impact of the internet on the business, in general, and on writers, in particular?

Elizabeth: Probably this is sacrilegious to say but I think the Internet has killed journalism. There’s just way too much emphasis on getting the story first and way too little on getting it right. Bloggers don’t have to follow any of the rules of reporting or sourcing and too many rumors and incorrect stories fly around the Net too fast to make proper corrections or for wronged parties to respond. It’s a mess.

For fiction writers, the Net has been great though. Especially for authors – bookstores, publishers and authors connect easily through sites like Twitter and Facebook and fan, retail and publisher sites. No genre author can or should embark on a publicity tour without getting a presence on the Internet.

Neely: Living in Sonoma, you must miss the sports action.  Who do you root for up there? You can’t still be a Clippers fan, can you?

Elizabeth: I’d be lost without my DirecTV.  I get to follow my favorite teams – the Mets, NY Giants and Knicks from the comfort of my living room.  We make occasional trips to see games in Oakland and San Francisco.

Neely: Let’s talk a bit about “Chapel Hill”.  Why Chapel Hill? What’s the connection?

Elizabeth: No connection at all. Except that when I first started as a sportswriter in Washington, DC, I covered the ACC conference in football and basketball and I used to drive down to the Raleigh-Durham area at least a couple of times a year. That sign in the pilot where the distance is replaced by a basketball score is real — I remember seeing it once on one of my trips.

“’Chapel Hill 15, Wake Forest 40’ Someone has scrawled out he mileage and replaced ‘15’ with ‘85’, so it reads like a lopsided basketball score.”

When I was thinking of a town, I wanted to use a place that had a liberal arts college and a varied population ethnic and class-wise — a spot that could be part small town, but burgeoning new city.

Neely: Was this an idea pitched to you or did you come up with the premise?

Elizabeth: It all started because I wanted to write something outside the procedural world where I’d been pigeon-holed – I mean I just came off a run of working for shows like Law & Order: Criminal Intent,  24 and Dragnet and while it was awesome and certainly paid the bills, I wanted to write something different, show my character chops. The original idea was pitched to me by Charles Segars who produces as well as runs development at Scripps Networks (Fine Living and such). He liked my work and I loved his sense of characters and situations (and loved working him) so we set out to try to come up with a pilot together. He had a grain of an idea, kind of a like a female version of the hero in The Paper Chase. I loved the concept but I knew I needed to make it personal to me to really get my head around it. Charles was really generous in allowing me to take the story where I felt it should go and I ended up writing a spec pilot we both were proud of. It’s not that much different from the CBS version,  a little more set-up and slightly more comedy.

We tried to sell it over two cycles but got no takers – probably because the original had almost no procedural elements at all.  As I talked about earlier, I had sold my detective novels to Paramount but we couldn’t agree on a tone or approach. I was trying to save my deal with them when I brought up “Chapel Hill” over lunch with execs at Paramount and CBS – all women. I actually pitched it on the fly with no preparation but it worked because I’d been living with it for so long, I knew the characters cold and I believed in them and I had a definite clear idea about what the show was about.

Lucky for me they loved the concept so we set about re-conceiving it for them. It’s often in vogue for writers to whine about development execs and notes from the suits, but developing “Chapel Hill” was a great experience all around. Kelly Edwards and Jonathan Axelrod were the producers and they never stopped believing in me and the trio of Julie McNamara, Leigh Redman and Stacey Adams at Paramount plus Laverne McKinnon at CBS were all very supportive of the project and gave awesome notes. In fact, a note Julie gave me was critical to making the end of the show work.

Martha Williamson came on to help guide and focus the story and she was a wonderful mentor throughout the process. She took the time to understand my vision and never once tried to impose hers on it. I remember going off to write feeling very confident I’d deliver a solid script.

If I learned anything developing this script it was the importance of getting your whole team to believe in your show and in you. The crucial part is selling both – you and your show. Or more precisely, that you are the person they need and can trust to deliver this show. Every successful show has a steady leader at the creative helm, someone who will not compromise on the singular vision of the series, someone to make sure all the varied moving parts adds up to one big idea. The clearer your vision, the easier it is to get everybody on the same page. “Chapel Hill” was a true collaborative process and throughout it, I never felt like the network or the studio didn’t believe in my vision for the show or tried to impose their own over it.

Neely: I know it had to be heartbreaking because it was one of your best scripts and telling 100 stories would have been easy.  Seems to be just another case of the right script at the wrong time.

Elizabeth: It was terribly heartbreaking I admit. Though when Nina Tassler called me personally to say CBS was passing, I also thought it was going to open some other doors into development. So I was feeling hopeful for my future anyway. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to find another pilot to work on together. I’m not sure who said it originally but I love the expression that Hollywood is a place where you can be encouraged to death.

Who knows why some shows get pick-ups and others don’t – mainly I imagine “Chapel Hill” wasn’t procedural enough (that’s a lot of what got added in the development process).  Still, I’m hopeful that shows like it will make it onto the air more now that we’ve seen successful character dramas. My favorite at the moment and the one I think that has a real kinship to “Chapel Hill” is “Friday Night Lights.”  It’s so brilliant, especially in the inter-relationships of its characters.

I love the way it investigates the deep inner world of small-town life and the people who live there, relying on emotional truths rather than familiar clichés. These are the places I would have wanted to explore in “Chapel Hill.” It was one of the rare scripts I’ve written where I can really say I know the characters, they’re based on real people I know. I mine a lot of true-life stuff for my Zen novels but those are fantasies. I mean I totally enjoy writing them but I felt “Chapel Hill” was going to give me a chance to create a rich landscape about a place and the characters that live there and the way their choices and mistakes weigh on themselves, their hopes and dreams and also about rising to the occasion when your life veers off course in ways you never expect. In a funny way, writing “Chapel Hill” made me a better novelist too.  My new novel is in some ways a connection to what I was trying to do with Lucy and Zoe – different characters and places but the emotions are very much of the same family tree. I’m not denigrating my Zen novels by any means – I’m really, really proud of Zen as a character but I grew up faster than she did I think and while I have every intention of returning to her adventures, I really needed to go to this other place in my writer’s heart first.  Who knows if I’ll make it work but then it’s supposed to be about the journey anyway, right?

Part of this has been theme and like almost all writers, I find I keep returning to the same themes over and over again. I don’t do it consciously, it sort of evolves on its own. “Chapel Hill” turned out to be about one of those themes, in this case it was the idea of starting over,  changing your life – making a big leap of faith into your future away from something comfortable and into some great unknown.  Of all the things I write about, this is among the most personal for me. I’ve uprooted my life more than once – moving out to L.A. from the East Coast was one of those times. First, the move was in part precipitated by surviving Cancer and wanting to make a big change in my life. I had a job waiting but I only knew one person in L.A. and didn’t even have a place to stay lined up past a week or two. The drive itself was an adventure – I had an idea of where I wanted to go but basically I just followed major roads and figured the route out as I went. To me it was a great new beginning, something I felt I had to do no matter what  — kind of like the kid in “Into the Wild.”  I considered for maybe 3 minutes that it might suck being far away from friends, family, living in a big, new city, etc. but I never once considered what the cost would be to those people. Here I am on my great adventure and my parents are sort of grieving over me moving 3,000 miles away – this mere months after almost losing me to Cancer. They never once told me not to go and have been great anchors for me along the way, but since I moved out to LA we see much less of each other. I think by now they know I made the right choice but there will always be a tiny bit of guilt that I wasn’t physically closer to them, no matter that we talk on the phone every other day.

What’s a writer to do with that kind of shit but to write about it and that’s where I started with Lucy. Sure, her motives are ultimately noble but what’s the affect on Zoe who has as many reasons to want to stay in New York as Lucy has to leave? It’s not a reach for her to feel she is being dragged along on someone else’s adventure.  In imagining the future of the series, I thought a lot about their relationship and especially how it’s Zoe who has made the biggest sacrifice. I was looking forward to exploring how this affected both Lucy and Zoe and what it would mean for their relationship. That’s why Lucy has that moment in the pilot where she lets Zoe go – it’s as much symbolic as it is literal. She has to do this, even though it goes against everything she feels is right and it’s at that moment when Lucy really understands the big responsibility she’s taken on – that it’s not just her journey alone. I love that scene when she meets Zoe at the bus station. Those are the moments writers live for.  I was really looking forward to seeing this relationship grow and change over the course of the series  – I know it would have been fun to write. As you can tell, I loved Zoe. She’s a perfect character because she’s an age where kids want can’t wait to grow up  but are still holding on to their last gasp of her childhood. Of course, like Lucy she has no idea she’s crossing a line. We hardly ever notice stuff like that until we’ve lived through it.

Neely: What about a different avenue?  Since CBS Studios is behind it, have they considered selling it elsewhere, or rolling it to next season?

Elizabeth: I think at this point, it’s back in my hands. I’d love to pitch it elsewhere – I have some ideas to update Lucy’s character vis-à-vis the recent financial crisis faced by the country. But I could easily see this on TNT – something to pair with the fabulous “Men of a Certain Age,” for example. And I’ve never given up hope that CBS will take another look at it – it’s really perfect for them and isn’t it true that “women of a certain age” (I won’t use THAT word) are in vogue these days? I’m so proud of that script.  I entered it into the WGA Writer Access Contest and won in the Diversity (women) division.

Neely: Congratulations.  But in some ways it is ironic…I never considered women, as a group, to be a minority.

Elizabeth: I know.  But if you look at the writing staffs of current programs you will find very few women. You’d be surprised how many shows don’t have any women on the writing staff.

Neely: What’s up next for you?  Have you been in town to pitch?

Elizabeth: I’ve got a new novel I’ve been working on. It’s not a Zen novel. The character is an LA cop on leave for a psychological problem and he ends up investigating a crime that forces him to confront his family’s past. I’m very excited about it and hope to have a publisher in early 2010. Then there’s the as-yet unpublished third Zen novel Zen Justice which may also see the light of day in the New Year.

I’ve done a lot of pitching the last couple of years – I’ve been out with two major projects in particular. One was a cop drama with a writing partner where we came this close to selling but I think in the end it was just too risky for most places.  I’ve got a new project with two young producers that I’ve excited about – a sort of character cop drama that takes place in another small southern town – which I’m just finishing a script for.

I also have a couple of spec pilots. One is a crazy cable drama in the vein of “Out of Sight” called “Small Crimes,” and the other is about a female cop who is haunted by her dead ex-partner called “Magic Hour”.

And finally, I’ve decided that 2010 is the year I will direct my first feature film. I’ve got a script I’m working on that I’m going to shoot on a shoe-string budget up here in wine country with an almost all local cast. It’s a story that I’ve wanted to tell for a long time and I can’t think of a better place to tell it than my little bucolic town.

Neely: All of that sounds fantastic and I can’t wait to see what happens.  Also, I still think there’s a home waiting for “Chapel Hill”.  I’m so happy to hear that you are pushing harder than ever.  As Phoef Sutton remarked in an earlier “conversation with”,

When I started, I knew it would be hard to break in; I didn’t realize that I’d have to continue to break in.

Please keep me posted and finish Zen Justice because I want more Zen Moses (and because I don’t think you’re done with her yet)!

As a parting note, I loved your “advice for young writers.” The following is an edited (for length) version:

It doesn’t matter what anybody says or how much work there is or who gets gigs on the Who You Know circuit or who the best unemployed writer or unpublished script is. It doesn’t matter. None of it does. What matters, what always will matter now and forever, is the work.

And not just any work but your work. What matters is if you are one of those people who are hard-wired to write then write you must do, no matter if it pays the bills or not. No matter what anyone tells you. No matter the prospects of getting paid or published or even printed on glossy white 3-hole punch paper. No matter what, period.

Because if you are one of those poor suckers, you already know the gospel by heart. You ain’t in it for the money. Only a fool becomes a writer to get rich. You’re in it because you’re in it and there’s no way out of it. You’re here because you have no choice, because there are forces at work well beyond your control that compel you to turn that glob of gray between your ears into words and sentences, paragraphs and chapters, dialogue, scenes, acts, to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard or blood to stone. Because you have no fucking choice.

If it’s in you, you know. And if you know, then you don’t need anybody to tell you that you’ve just turned on to an endless two-lane between the voices in your head and those voices on paper making any kind of sense, the latter so far out on the horizon, you can’t be sure if it’s home or a thousand-foot death drop off a cliff.

I’ll tell you what you say to that young kid just starting out or to the reflection in your mirror on those days when you’re certain you’ve either written your last good word or the last word of yours anybody will ever read. You remind that kid (and you) that nothing will ever matter more than the work, that on this crazy, winding, frightening, amazing, wondrous, magical and sometimes fucked up ride that for sure has been chosen for us and not vice versa, the only thing you’ll ever have any control over is your craft. And nobody can take that away from you. Not if you don’t let them.

Check out Elizabeth’s blog on photography –  www.shyonelung.blogspot.com

Neely Swanson

neely@nomeanerplace.com

October 7, 2009

“When you’re down & out, there’s no meaner place to live than Hollywood” – Dominick Dunne

Filed under: Pilots, Pilots not produced, Sherman, Writers — Tags: — Neely Swanson @ 10:33 am

When new or unusual ideas are presented they can often be met with jaw-dropping disbelief.  Today’s pilot is such a case.

The Compleat Pratt by Jon Sherman

What: Settling into his favorite stall in the men’s room and opening the plumbing access panel where he keeps his crossword puzzle book, Avery Pratt jumps five feet off his seat when a squirrel leaps out at him.  Not even someone as lacking in ambition and curiosity as Avery could resist crawling through the passage to see where the squirrel could have come from.  Moments later Avery finds himself naked, on the ground in the English Countryside, having fallen out of a large hole at the base of a giant oak tree.  Taking cover behind the tree when he hears the approach of horses, he witnesses a beautiful woman being pursued by a nobleman and his two lackeys.  All four look very familiar to him, except they are outfitted in 16th century regalia.

Who: Pratt soon finds himself recounting his dilemma to two disbelieving traveling thespians – Peter Carbunkle and Claudius Hollyband, the former as dirty and scruffy as the latter is meticulous.  Soon they have clothed him and taken him under their wing, primarily for their own theatrical use.  Pratt finds himself on his way to Bristol, England via the village of Swansdork (I kid thee not) where Carbunkle and Hollyband try to pass Pratt off to the local innkeeper as the King of Sweden in order to obtain free food, drink, wenches and lodging.  It is here that they again encounter the Nobleman, Baron MacBlackman, and his young ward, Olivia, and meet Roger the Foul-Mouthed Fool, a traveling minstrel whose gift for limerick is unsurpassed, at least outside Nantucket (“I wish I were a seaman…Whose ship had hit a rock…For as I drowned, Was sinking down, A mermaid could suck my—“).

Pratt explains that he has seen (as have we) all of these people before under different circumstances – in his 21st century life as a low level sales associate at Amalgamated Adhesives in New Bristol, Connecticut.  Manfred MacBlackman, president of Amalgamated Adhesives, has him trapped in a thankless sales position and has also recently thwarted his attempt to invite Olivia, MacBlackman’s assistant, on a date.  Disappointed that he was unable to escort Olivia, he instead invited his best friend Roger…to the local Renaissance Faire; Roger, appalled to discover that Avery actually owns his own costume, assured him that he was lucky Olivia was otherwise engaged.  It was at the Faire that he first encountered Claudius and Peter, actors performing “the entire works of William Shakespeare…except for the sonnets. With but two persons…in under seven minutes!”  Plucking Avery from the audience, Claudius and Peter attempted to make him part of their act.  Horrified at the prospect of acting in front of strangers, Avery fled the scene and found himself in the fortune-telling tent of a short, pushy old crone with frizzy hair and an eye patch – uncannily resembling his mother in too many ways.  Something in this final encounter is responsible for his foray into not-so-jolly Olde England and the 16th century.  Peter and Claudius must help Avery find a way back home without any of them dying at the end of Baron MacBlackman’s sword or at the end of a rope swung by an angry mob.

No Meaner Place: Sherman, whose impressive credits include a long stint on “Frasier,” among many others, knows his way around comedy.  Asked by a network development executive to “think outside the box,” he came up with this idea.  But let me quote Jon about the results of this pitch session:

“After devising the idea, I returned and pitched it to the executive.  He looked at me as though I’d not only thought outside the box, but had jumped up and down on it, set fire to it, peed on it, and thrown it in the river.  I had destroyed the box, and he was horrified.  This was network television, after all, and so while thinking outside the box was okay, eliminating it entirely was not.  Somewhere, there still had to be a box.”

This was not the first time anyone in television suffered from a lack of vision, and certainly won’t be the last.

Formatted as a one hour, it could easily be made into a single camera half hour instead; Sherman’s reluctance to do so stems from the lack of success in half hour comedy for “period” pieces.  Although not an expert in production costs, this would certainly be a great deal less expensive than the new network shows that are orchestrated to helicopter crashes and CGI metropolitan demolition.

“The Compleat Pratt” has its roots in “Black Adder,” the British television series, “The Visitors,” the French film (and not the American remake), and Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.  And lying beneath this 16th Century farce is a hilarious and subversive indictment of corporate structure as a feudal society.  Surely someone, somewhere, if not on network (highly unlikely) then on cable, understands this premise, sees the humor and understands how to deconstruct a box.  We can only hope.  I WANT TO SEE THIS SHOW!

Life Lessons for Writers:  Keep thinking outside the box. Ultimately it will keep you sane, although probably not rich.

Next up – “Here…After” by Brian Ross

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