7.04.2006
A New Soap (part one)
Natalie Portman. The best thing to come out of Israel since unleavened bread. Of course, that wouldn't have been the case if the studio execs had been more receptive to a certain screenplay I pitched a couple years back: Israeli Ninja. Think American Ninja with some added Middle Eastern spice. Explosive stuff. Unfortunately, the studios didn't bite. One of the harshest opponents of the script - a guy at Paramount - claimed that it displayed..a complete lack of understanding of Jewish culture, of the political climate in the Middle East, and of reality in general.
That said, everyone was hot for the scene where the Israeli Ninja guns the propellers on a stolen nuclear sub, drives it out over a 200 foot waterfall, and crashes straight through the Saudi Samurai's gold-plated attack yacht.
Since that scene was such a hit, I embarked on one of the few mistakes of my career. I figure, give these guys what they want... I ended up with the script for White Water Submariners. Think Fast and the Furious crossed with The River Wild crossed with Crimson Tide. Sounds good, I'll admit, but it just didn't gel together.
So anyway, I get a call from Natalie Portman - the most recent of many - asking to see me. Ordinarily, I wouldn't say no to a lady like Nat, but I've been real busy recently... the Miyazaki thing, Tommy Reid's theft of Seven Ten Split... Maybe you're thinking,
Come on Matt! I don't care if Tommy Reid stole your goddamn kidneys, you make time for Nat Portman!
Well... yeah... to be honest, I was just waiting for her hair to grow back before seeing her. Damn Wakowskis. Just cos they pulled The Matrix out of the hat they get to take a hair clipper to Natalie Portman!? You ask me they haven't done a single thing right since Assassins - Most explosive shootout in a taxi ever.
I've seen a couple pictures of Nat recently, and I figure she's back. So this time, I agree to go see her. Malamar drives me down to the restaurant - As well as being my PA, Malamar doubles as a chauffeur and triples as a bodyguard... (I haven't seen him fight yet, but... you know... he's from one of those martial arts countries). I figure he's used to driving one of those green motorized bicycles like Rodge Moore cruises around in in Octopussy, so I'm real impressed with how he handles the Die Hard Ambulance.
Have you seen Octopussy Malamar?
He answers me. I'm starting to make out one or two words. Not sure what the clicks mean though. When he's done I go on,
Interesting fact: Maud Adams was the only actress ever to play two different Bond girls. She was Andrea Anders in The Man with the Golden Gun and nine years later she returned as Octopussy... I guess you could say Roger wanted a little more.
He looks at me. Nods. Turns back to the road. Sometimes I get the feeling Mal doesn't pick up on my subtle wit. When we arrive at the restaurant, I see Nat standing outside impatiently - when you're about to meet Matt Evans for the first time you can get a little restless. I step out to introduce myself.
Bang! Matt Evans, at your service.
Thanks for meeting me Matt.
No problem babe. So, we heading inside?
She turns around. She looks nervous, reluctant to go in. I'm inside her head at this point (it's a gift) - The girl finally gets to meet Matt Evans, she wants him all to herself - After a jittery moment, she speaks.
Matt. We can't go inside... I need to talk to you.
She's real serious.
I need you to get a message to-
She's interrupted. A man walking out of the restaurant just called her name. I recognize him as Rick McCallum, producer of the Star Wars pictures. Lucas' right hand man. Word is, George doesn't make a single decision without first having Rick tell him it's a good idea.
Natalie!
he calls out,
What a coincidence, seeing you here!
She turns to see him. There's a strange moment as they greet each other... She introduces me to Rick and I shake his hand.
Ricky! Great to meet you. Listen, I gotta ask: Is it true Michael Caine is your stepfather?
What? No... You're thinking of Michael York.
Michael York? Who's he?
He played D'Artagnan in The Three Musketeers.
No way!
Yeah, he's a really great guy... Matt Evans. That name seems- are you the guy thatkilled Hayao Miyazaki at the Oscars?
Clearly Ricky's a little confused... but I have been getting this a lot recently. I guess
And this is... uh Matt?
Oh! Yeah, that's Malamar. Best PA in LA. Hey Malamar, you know Nat right? This is Rick McCallum - he's the son of that guy in Scent of a Woman! Remember? The Bairdman?
My Pacino impression sucks - I only ever do it so that Mal will do his. You should hear him do his Devil's Advocate bit - He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? Never! Sometimes he jumbles the words around a little, keep you on your toes, but the voice is perfect!
Unfortunately for everyone present, he doesn't take the bait. Malamar's about to say hi when Natalie stumbles and falls towards him. With a promising display of cat-like reflexes, Malamar catches her. Rick rushes over to help her.
Woh Natalie! You ok there?
Yeah Rick. Thanks. I'm fine.
The next few moments are hectic. A couple of Rick's assistants show up, there's a rush of activity around Natalie, and before I know what's what they're all gone. Natalie with them. I'm left standing there with Malamar. We exchange a confused look.
Well, there it is Mal.... Let's roll.
We hop into the Die Hard Ambulance and are back at my place before I have time to finish explaining to Malamar how Timothy Dalton was the perfect buffer between the Moore and Brosnan Bond dynasties.
I get back to my PC and continue writing the screenplay for No Rule to Make Target - the thriller I'm currently developing for Mickey Keaton. During the Oscar's Mickey and myself were in a tight spot... for legal reasons I can't go into the details, but I promised him that if we got out of it alive I'd write a movie with a starring role for him. Mickey will play an army sniper - John Target - who is betrayed by his own commanding officer. To get revenge he has to turn on his old unit - men he trained - and snipe his way back to the CO: General Xavier Zantos. Explosive stuff.
Yo Malamar!
I call out,
What's the best place in the jungle to take up a sniping position? Like up a tree, or on top of a hill or what?... Malamar?
Usually Malamar's very helpful with this sort of thing, so I'm surprised when he doesn't answer. I get up and find him in the next room studying something in the palm of his hand.
What you got their Mal? Looks like a memory stick.
He looks up at me.
Want me to check it out?
I ask. He nods. I take it and we head back in to the PC. A moment later I'm trying to load up a video stored on the memory stick.
Something's wrong with this file Mal. Where'd you get this?.. Hold up, here we go!
A video pops up on screen. To start out it's all staticky, can't make out a thing. Then... Natalie Portman shows up. She's speaking into the camera, the footage looping over and over. I turn up the volume (I usually keep it down - Jake Busey got a hold of my computer and setup a goddamn Rosie Perez sound scheme. Dunno how the hell he managed it, but I can't get rid of the damn thing). We hear Natalie,
...Help me Mr. Bruckheimer, you're my only hope... ...Help me Mr. Bruckheimer, you're my only hope...
I close the program.
YOO SO STOOPID BILLEEEEE!!!
Turn the volume down. Malamar seems as confused as me, but I have to ask him,
Did Natalie give you this Mal?
He doesn't know. Says he just found it in the Die Hard Ambulance when we got back.
Bruckheimer... I wonder if she means Jerry Bruckheimer - the greatest movie producer who has ever lived. The man behind Con Air, Armageddon, The Rock, Flashdance, The Bad Boys Duology, National Treasure, BHD, Kangaroo Jack, Pirates of the Caribbean, Coyote Ugly, Gone in 60 Seconds and let's not forget two of TC's finest movies: Top Gun and DoT... The list goes on Malamar.
Malamar blinks. I stop and think for a moment. Natalie said she wanted me to get a message to someone. She must want me to contact Jerry Bruckheimer. Was Ricky McCallum trying to stop her?... It didn't make any sense, but there was only one thing to do.
Malamar. Start up the Die Hard Ambulance. We're going to see Jerry Bruckheimer.
Later that day we arrive at Jerry's place... Let's put this in context. This is Jerry Bruckheimer. The Master. I've never met him before (although when I first arrived in L.A. I may have had a paranormal encounter with his late collaborator Don Simpson). This was a big deal for me... but apparently I wasn't the only person looking for Jerry.
As we turn the corner and Jerry's mansion comes into view, I see dozens of people lumbering around outside the gates.
Stop the car Malamar!
He parks at the side of the road and we step out. Keeping our distance, I study the guys outside Jerry's. They're roaming around like zombies... each of them holding a collection of papers in their hands. One of them's making a lame effort to scale the electric gate.
Screenwriters,
I explain to Malamar.
They must be here to pitch ideas to Jerry. Dammit! How're we gonna get inside?
Then I see it - a security camera angled down towards the huddle of screenwriters. There was a slim chance Jerry would see me if I went over. With Malamar in tow I walk slowly into their midst.
Don't make eye contact Malamar... they'll take it as a sign to pitch.
They groan and mumble phrases to no one in particular as we pass through. We're careful not to brush against them. They don't seem to notice us as we walk by.
...rrmmm... explosive... sequel... Bad Santa meets The Bourne Identity... remake... RRRrrrmm... Michael Douglas...
A couple times I have to stop, to let one of them trudge by in front of me. From the odors wafting around I get the impression some of them have been here for days... possibly living off cabbage and baked beans... Finally, I'm right in the center of the camera's view. I look straight up at it. Malamar stands close, clearly uneasy in these surroundings.
Mr. Bruckheimer!
I begin. No one takes any notice of me.
I have an important message for you. A message from Natalie Portman.
I continue, explaining the video message I received, when all of a sudden a face flashes before me. I make the mistake of glancing briefly towards it - the look only lasted an instant, but that's all it takes. The man before me begins:
Spiderman, Deep Impact, The Passion - what do they have in common?.. Absolutely nothing!.. Unless...
He goes on - but I'm shaken up, I look from side to side. Three more screenwriters approach and start pitching,
Two cops... One man... Everything you thought you knew about lumber... Michael Douglas in his most OUTRAGEOUS role yet!!...
I try to turn to Malamar, but they're massing all around me - I can't tell which way he is!
Malamar!
I call out. I hear him shout something - they've got him too. Desperately I try to block out the bombardment of movie ideas.
Until one day... an assassin, wait for it, hired to kill himself!!... Batman versus Ulysses 31...
Too... many... pitches...
A no holds barred expose of the lesbian archery circuit!... Blues Clues meets Daredevil... Michael Douglas...
I fall to the ground. They take it as a sign that they're wearing me down and move in closer. I start to black out...
Chuck Norris plays bulimic twins... Michael Douglas... A Kung Fu Kangaroo - A Kungaroo!!... Michael Douglas... Micha---
Suddenly I hear a loud scream. The screenwriters' heads jerk up, they scatter, running for cover across the street. I'm lying next to Malamar in the now empty street. I look up to see the electric gate's wide open, and standing between them - Jerry Bruckheimer. He walks over to Malamar, helps him up off the ground, and then offers me a hand. Once I'm up, he speaks.
Jerry Bruckheimer. Explosive Hollywood producer.
Matt Evans, explosive writer/director/actor. Pleased to meet you Mr. Bruckheim-
Please, Matt. Call me Jerry.... or The Bruck Totale... or Maverick.
I decide to stick with Jerry.
Thanks Jerry. Did you get my message?
Yes Matt, but we should get inside before we talk it over. The screenwriters are easily startled, but they'll soon be back, and in greater numbers.
Inside, I tell Jerry everything that's happened so far. He listens with interest, stroking his scruffy ginger beard. Finally he speaks,
May I see the memory stick?
Sure, but like I said, there's something wrong with it. I couldn't watch the whole video.
I'll see what I can do about that.
He pulls a small UV light pen out of his pocket, presses play on a stereo, and begins examining the memory stick under the weird blue light. A familiar track by The Who kicks in. Jerry sings along at the top of his lungs:
WHOOOOO ARE YOU? WHO WHO, WHO WHOOO
He flicks his head up in time with the "whos" to look at me, then flicks it back to examine the hardware. Moving over to a desk, he starts looking through a magnifying glass.
YEAH I REALLY WANNA KNOWWWWW!, OH, WHO THE F*** ARE YOU!??
Some people say you should never meet your heroes.... those people have obviously never watched Jerry Bruckheimer getting all CSI with his UV light pen to the beats of The Who. The song comes to an end.
Almost got it,
he says. After a few quick adjustments, he hooks it up to his computer and rolls the video. Natalie appears on screen again - looking nervous, rushed.
Mr Bruckheimer. I hope this message reaches you. I couldn't contact you directly for I am constantly being watched. Matt was the obvious person for me to go to - he has such little influence in Hollywood that it would arouse no suspicion, and yet, if what I've heard about him is to be believed, he is persistent enough to have found you.
I'm a little confused by the comment. I guess Nat isn't too hot when it comes to phrasing compliments.
For years you've made hugely successful blockbuster movies, and more recently, have produced several hit television series. This is a path George Lucas is hoping to follow. He's now working on a Star Wars TV show... A little while ago, George took me aside, excited by this new project, and showed me some of the story ideas for the first season. Mr Bruckheimer, it's... it's awful. It's like a bad soap opera. It has enough flaws, enough inconsistencies, to destroy the entire Star Wars franchise - everything that George has accomplished up until now will be for naught. What's worse, is that he's been getting advice on the show's development from... Robert Evans.
Jerry stirs at the mention of the name.
I don't know what else to do Mr. Bruckheimer. If this series goes ahead... I can't even think... This is our most desperate hour. Help me Mr. Bruckheimer, you're my only hope.
The video cuts out and, for a moment, we sit in silence. Jerry is thinking deeply. I have to ask him about the name I heard mentioned.
This Robert Evans. You know him?
He nods,
Yes. He was once a great producer, like me. He made some classic pictures: Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown, The Godfather... He knew the movie business inside out. He was truly gifted in his knowledge of the Formula, but he was seduced by it's power, and was transformed into a shadow of himself.
The Formula?
Well, the Formula is what gives a filmmaker his power. A collection of rules for storyline, stock characters and situations. The Formula has grown and been perfected over several decades, eliminating all need for originality in the movie industry. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds Hollywood together.
I listen intently, eager to learn from one of the master's of modern cinema - But we didn't have time to sit around talking about movie making. We knew we had to do something, and decided we should start by finding Natalie. We had to get her away from Lucas. It didn't take long to find out that she was set to appear at a science fiction convention in Las Vegas that weekend. It didn't sound like somethng Nat would have volunteered to do - we could only assume the worst.
So we need to go to Vegas, huh? Well we can drive there in the Die Hard Ambulance.
Jerry looks at me.
The what?
I pause. Shocked, I exchange a look with Malamar, who seems equally taken aback.
You've never heard of the Die Hard Ambulance?
Should I have?
It's the van that made the Sepulveda Run in under 22 miles!
Jerry thinks about that for a second.
Made it in under... a distance? That doesn't make any sense.
You'll understand once you see her. Come on.
After sneaking past the screenwriters, still regrouping outside, we make it to the DHA and are on our way. A couple hours into the journey, Jerry leaves Malamar at the wheel to come and talk to me in the back. He finds me sitting with a notepad, furiously scribbling then scratching out words.
What are you working on?
Huh?.. Oh, it's a movie. A thriller about a sniper betrayed by his own people, who sets out to get revenge. Mickey Keaton wants a piece of the action.
Mickey Keaton? Is it a regular-voice role or a Beetlejuice one?
Mickey and I had already discussed this. There was no doubt about it:
Beetlejuice. No doubt. Mickey hasn't had a chance to take the old Beetlejuice voice out for a turn since clone number one in Multiplicity. He hates that so few roles call for it, but John Target couldn't work any other way.
Jerry nods. He glances down at the dialog I've been writing. The page is covered with scribbles.
You're having trouble with a scene?
Yeah...
Run it by me.
I set the scene up for Jerry. After General Xavier Zantos frames John Target for killing the Thai royal family, our hero has to go into hiding and disappears into the jungle. Zantos sends a crack unit of snipers (trained by Target) out to get him, but he picks them off one by one - from up a tree or on top of a hill or something - eventually Target works his way back to the army base - Jerry interrupts.
-to Zantos' compound. Army base is no good.
His compound?
Yes. An estate. A Mansion. Big gardens with statues, armed guards. Inside, lots of expensive art work and maybe even an aquarium with Siamese fighting fish.
Really? Do Generals live in places like that?
Villains do Matt. Villains do.
I nod and make a note of it... So Target gets back to Zantos' compound and snipes his way through the security. Then, there's the final confrontation between Target and his old mentor, Xavier Zantos.
Here's the problem. This is the key scene in the whole picture... Well, not including the one where Target is standing at the edge of a cliff and a herd of water buffalo are stampeding towards him - He has no choice but to dig in and start sniping... Anyway, I want the dialog to be tight. I want the back-and-forth between these two guys to be explosive. You know? I'm trying to think-
Stop Matt. Don't think... Use the Formula.
He lets the words hang... but I'm not sure what he means.
Really? I mean, what I'm looking for is something clever for Target to say to-
Use the Formula Matt. Creativity can be your undoing, trust in what's worked before.
I think about his words.
You mean.... instead of coming up with something smart for them to say.... I could just have them repeat lines from earlier in the movie?
Exactly. Perhaps an earlier scene where Zantos is training Target. Zantos tells him something - says he should always remember it - then later, Target repeats it, and kills him. It's the power of the Formula Matt - the audience will often mistake repetition for significance, or confuse the use of memory with the use of intelligence.
I... I think I understand.
Jerry smiles. Just then we hear a series of alarmed noises from the front of the van - it's Malamar. We move up and join him. There, in the distance, is Las Vegas. Jerry watches the horizon thoughtfully, speaking almost to himself,
Las Vegas, Nevada... You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
I nod,
I know. What a town!
Yeah, I try to make it up at least once a month. You been to that new place off the strip? Every blackjack table is extra large, reinforced, and has two guys fighting UFC style in the middle of it. It's a blast! They have to change decks every three, four hands. A couple MIT guys had a system worked out from the blood splatter on the cards.
Haven't seen it, no. Last time I came out, with Gary Busey, he brought me to this little place - you know Gary says the big casino's, that's New Vegas. This place, this is Old Vegas - anyway, it's kinda small, not really furnished or anything. The whole place... full of Koreans laying down big bucks on mantis fights. You know, these things are tiny, but they got 50 inch plasma TVs so you can watch em trying to crush each other's heads. In the back, I think they have dogs going at it, but you gotta be a member for that.
Man, I know the place. All too well. Blew half the budget of the second season of CSI on a seven inch mantis called 보복 지구 악마. I mean, seven inches! - you gotta figure a bug that size is a lock. Twenty seconds in, some little upstart competitor had chewed off his hind legs. I have to come to the set the next day and tell everyone we're still using the rubber corpses from last year - I mean, some of these bad boys stink like the real thing at this stage.... Hey! You ever been stripper-paintballing?
This went on for some time. A lot of reminiscing about the good times in Vegas... But this time we weren't here for fun. We were here on a mission, and despite Jerry's upbeat mood I couldn't help but think one thing:
I have a very bad feeling about this.