The Big Picture, Part IV
I Must Have That Doggie in the Window
When we began pre-production we knew we had something really interesting on our hands, and even though the head of Columbia, Dawn Steel, had steadfastly refused to attend dailies, we heard from all the underlings there that the daily screenings were a popular ticket amongst the management who had become privately enthusiastic about it. But no one was able to get up enough nerve to confront her about it so the camps there became clearly divided.
Production had gone smoothly enough, but there were a couple of interesting events. I'll tell you about one of them and then I'll think about how I can tell you the other one without huring anyone's feelings.....anyway the first one has already been recounted by our location manager in his book, "I Killed Charles Bronson's Cat". I think you can guess what happened one night when we were shooting in Wink Martindale's house up in the canyons near where the Bronson's live. Running cats in the dark, large trucks moving down narrow streets. Not good for the cat. I remember when I arrived on the set and everyone was scurrying around looking horrified. Okay, it's an awful thing to kill someone's cat. But Charles Bronson's cat? The man who had given new meaning to the words personal vandetta? I'm just glad I was not the one who had to tell him. Apparently he was very nice about it, all things considered. I think we bought him a new one.
Anyway, flash forward to the finish of principal photography. I was the post-production supervisor at this point and with a pared-down staff we'd squeezed back into our personal office space on Wilshire Blvd. to finish up all the details. For those of you who aren't familiar with the film business, post production is detail-hell. There were so many stacks of paper on my desk that I had no room to work most of the time. But parts of it were fun. One of my favorite jobs was securing the music rights (we had a budget of $100K which wasn't very much) and I loved yelling back at the rights owners - Mafioso-type guys who were trying to stiff me between puffs on their very large cigars. I think I was called "little lady" a record number of times in those weeks. I cut and re-cut my negotiating teeth on this job and it's one skill that has served me well over the years.
A few weeks into post-production we heard from Dawn (I don't know if she actually called our office or if this information was passed along from one of her V.P.s). To our surprise she let it be known that she might be willing to bail out of the project at this stage (and get her money back) if someone would take the film off her hands. We thought this was hilarious. Actually we were grimly amused and a bit blood-hungry. She seemed out of touch with the word on the street about the film and Michael Varhol was certain we would be able to find another buyer. So he (and Chris, I believe) took the rough cut around to various studios, including Fox, MGM, and Paramount, while also putting feelers out for various upcoming film festivals, Cannes, and Sundance, among them (this was before the Toronto Film Festival gained prominence).
Within a couple of weeks we had definite interest from everyone we'd approached. We were elated, convinced that we could shake off the yoke at Columbia and actually end up with a studio that would market and properly distribute the film. The idea of a bidding war even seemed possible at this point. The mood in the office brightened considerably and we finished up the necessary insert shots, scoring (more friends of Chris'), titles, ADR, and other details.
Then we heard from Columbia. And here, my friends, is where the details get a bit fuzzy so this may be just my recollection (or I'm hedging my bets). After Michael told Dawn he indeed would have a new buyer, she abruptly changed her mind.
No sale.
We knew then that she didn't even care about losing the money anymore. It was about not being shown up, or trumped, or taking a personal hit. And we knew, with certainty, that her decision to keep the film had nothing to do with a change of heart about its value. She was going to bury it. Bury it as deep as she could and hope it remained that way.
Next: We have one last chance to do an end-run and get the film out to the public.
When we began pre-production we knew we had something really interesting on our hands, and even though the head of Columbia, Dawn Steel, had steadfastly refused to attend dailies, we heard from all the underlings there that the daily screenings were a popular ticket amongst the management who had become privately enthusiastic about it. But no one was able to get up enough nerve to confront her about it so the camps there became clearly divided.
Production had gone smoothly enough, but there were a couple of interesting events. I'll tell you about one of them and then I'll think about how I can tell you the other one without huring anyone's feelings.....anyway the first one has already been recounted by our location manager in his book, "I Killed Charles Bronson's Cat". I think you can guess what happened one night when we were shooting in Wink Martindale's house up in the canyons near where the Bronson's live. Running cats in the dark, large trucks moving down narrow streets. Not good for the cat. I remember when I arrived on the set and everyone was scurrying around looking horrified. Okay, it's an awful thing to kill someone's cat. But Charles Bronson's cat? The man who had given new meaning to the words personal vandetta? I'm just glad I was not the one who had to tell him. Apparently he was very nice about it, all things considered. I think we bought him a new one.
Anyway, flash forward to the finish of principal photography. I was the post-production supervisor at this point and with a pared-down staff we'd squeezed back into our personal office space on Wilshire Blvd. to finish up all the details. For those of you who aren't familiar with the film business, post production is detail-hell. There were so many stacks of paper on my desk that I had no room to work most of the time. But parts of it were fun. One of my favorite jobs was securing the music rights (we had a budget of $100K which wasn't very much) and I loved yelling back at the rights owners - Mafioso-type guys who were trying to stiff me between puffs on their very large cigars. I think I was called "little lady" a record number of times in those weeks. I cut and re-cut my negotiating teeth on this job and it's one skill that has served me well over the years.
A few weeks into post-production we heard from Dawn (I don't know if she actually called our office or if this information was passed along from one of her V.P.s). To our surprise she let it be known that she might be willing to bail out of the project at this stage (and get her money back) if someone would take the film off her hands. We thought this was hilarious. Actually we were grimly amused and a bit blood-hungry. She seemed out of touch with the word on the street about the film and Michael Varhol was certain we would be able to find another buyer. So he (and Chris, I believe) took the rough cut around to various studios, including Fox, MGM, and Paramount, while also putting feelers out for various upcoming film festivals, Cannes, and Sundance, among them (this was before the Toronto Film Festival gained prominence).
Within a couple of weeks we had definite interest from everyone we'd approached. We were elated, convinced that we could shake off the yoke at Columbia and actually end up with a studio that would market and properly distribute the film. The idea of a bidding war even seemed possible at this point. The mood in the office brightened considerably and we finished up the necessary insert shots, scoring (more friends of Chris'), titles, ADR, and other details.
Then we heard from Columbia. And here, my friends, is where the details get a bit fuzzy so this may be just my recollection (or I'm hedging my bets). After Michael told Dawn he indeed would have a new buyer, she abruptly changed her mind.
No sale.
We knew then that she didn't even care about losing the money anymore. It was about not being shown up, or trumped, or taking a personal hit. And we knew, with certainty, that her decision to keep the film had nothing to do with a change of heart about its value. She was going to bury it. Bury it as deep as she could and hope it remained that way.
Next: We have one last chance to do an end-run and get the film out to the public.
posted by vallie at 8:32 AM
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