Welcome to the Circus
I've recently started watching the Paramount + show, The Offer, a 10-episode series about the making of The Godfather. I'm about halfway through, and it's a decent show. Watching Matthew Goode's interpretation of Paramount Pictures' Head of Production, Robert Evans, is fascinatingly entertaining. It is fantastic to see some of the setups for some of the iconic scenes from the movie, like the dinner scene where Michael takes out McCloskey and Sollozzo. However, there is also something else that is captivating about the show. There are several wonderful speeches about the beauty of movies, and one, in particular, describes why so many of us do what we do.
Both Bob Evans' and Al Ruddy, the producer, played by Miles Teller, give compassionate speeches about the theatrical experience as well as the power of movies to move people: Ruddy delivers his after seeing Planet of the Apes in the theater, and Evans' speech comes during a Gulf and Western board meeting (then Paramount’s parent company) where the mercurial head of G&W, Charlie Bluhdorn, played beautifully by Burn Gorman, is toying with selling Paramount in the middle of The Godfather production. Luckily, this clip is online. After each, I almost wanted to stand up and applaud. It's not surprising given that one of the creators, Michael Tolkin, wrote the great Hollywood satire, The Player, a harsh critique of the industry, particularly the studio system and how it treats talent, but at the same time, there was a sense of appreciation of "the business" to that film. Tolkin wanted to instill in some part of the show an appreciation for theaters and the movie-going experience given the streaming era in which we currently live - yes, I recognize the irony that a show that speaks of theaters is premiering on a streaming service. These speeches should be required viewing for anyone wishing to work in "the business." Are they a bit corny? Yes, but they capture in no uncertain terms what was and still is special about theatrical movie-going.
Speaking of "the business," there is one more great little speech that, for me, is an excellent explainer for the layman who doesn't quite understand what most of us do, nor why so many of us stress about things that the outside world view as patently ridiculous. My wife often struggles with this, especially when I'm staying up late to revise a TV spot or trailer. The speech takes place right after Ruddy and Paramount's Casting Director Andrea Eastman, played by Stephanie Koening, have told Al Pacino (played by an uncanny Anthony Ippolito) that they finally got the green light to hire him, only for Pacino to say he's taken another film. It's a crushing blow to Ruddy, who worked hard to get Paramount, more specifically Evans, to hire him. Eastman retorts by telling him this is the business we've chosen (paraphrasing Heiman Roth from The Godfather 2) and that we all essentially left home to join "the circus." To the outsider, the circus is a place to go and have a good time and watch talented performers entertain them. Would they ever want to try it themselves? No shot. Do they understand why the performers do it? Not really. And for those in the business, the circus perfectly describes the clowns and carnival barkers we deal with daily in this industry. BUT, it is also great to be a part of the circus and see an audience's first reaction to your film or trailer. Or walking in on a Monday morning after a film that caused anxiety and one too many grey hairs crushing it at the weekend box office. Yes, it is a circus, but it can be thrilling and exciting to be a part of it.
The Offer isn't one of the best shows; the pace is uneven, and it does make it seem that the movie would have floundered without Saint Al Ruddy, which isn't that surprising given that show is based on his experience making the movie, but still, it offers several robust defenses of our wacky business and the beautiful films that often result. That alone is reason for one to appreciate it.
I'm From Marketing and I'm here to Help
I was scrolling through Instagram the other day and came across this post from Dwayne Johnson.
This was Warner Bros. presenting Dwayne Johnson the marketing campaign for Black Adam. I saw this and immediately felt for everyone in that room. I often prepped materials for these meetings and was in a few myself. Robin Geisen, a frequent guest on the podcast, could spin many a tale about last-minute panics and changes to decks for filmmaker presentations. These meetings can often become adversarial, especially if the filmmaker has a different vision on positioning the movie in the marketplace than you do or they don't respond to the trailer or other materials. Either way, it's not always smooth sailing. At least from the sanitized posts on Instagram, it seems the meeting went well. The last post was a video of Johnson thanking the Warner Bros. staff and everyone taking a shot of tequila.
That's great to see, even if it is sanitized for Instagram. I think it's essential for everyone working on a movie to understand that the studio "suits" aren't always enemies we're sometimes portrayed as. The studios must also recognize that the talent, producers, and directors have worked tirelessly, sometimes for years, to bring their baby to audiences. This is a conversation I often have with younger filmmakers and even some studio execs. It helps to see the other person's perspecive, especially if you want to convince them of your side of the argument. It is so much easier to walk in with the mentality that you all ultimately want the same thing: To win and make the movie as big a hit as possible.
Pages from the Commonplace Book
Today's quote is from a local who used to live not far from where I'm typing this: N.C. Wyeth. Wyeth was a famous artist and illustrator. The below excerpt is taken from a letter Wyeth wrote to his eldest son, Nat, and Nat's wife, Caroline, about their nearly two-year-old son, Newell:
"To keep alive and to intensify his sense of wonderment and his curiosity about the simplest things - these will become and remain the most potent factors in his life, no matter what he is destined to do."
Tragically, two years after this letter was written, Wyeth and his grandson, Newell, were killed together when a train struck a car N.C was driving. His advice can offer us much wisdom in our technologically advanced age. Sometimes a childish wonder at the true beauty in much of the world can help us realize what truly matters.
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