by Art Linson
OMITTED
INT. EDITING FACILITY
Ben walks down the hallway and enters the outer area of the editing rooms. He approaches one of the rooms, the door is closed with a ‘do not enter sign.’ A loud ‘oh cunt’ groan followed by the sound of glass smashing erupts from inside.
EDITING ROOM
Ben quickly enters to see Jeremy, glassy-eyed, wrecked, really wrecked, like a man on life support. Shards of a coffee cup are at his side.
BEN: Jeremy, you may not realize this now but I was protecting you and our movie in that office.
JEREMY: I’ve gone out, man. Way out.
BEN: I can see that but maybe it’s a good thing. Clears your head …
JEREMY: No. No. I’ve gone out. I had eleven months and twenty-two days of no drugs or alcohol and after the meeting with that cow, Lou, your fucking well-meaning, assassin-in-training, gave me a fucking Ativan …
BEN: Uh huh … one Ativan doesn’t sound so terrible …
JEREMY: … which I then followed up by scoring three Dilaudids from a barman, and knock it all back with rum and Cokes.
BEN: Okay then. You needed a release. It can happen to anyone.
JEREMY: (tears welling up) Please, in seven days I was gonna get a cake, a lovely cake, a celebration … a year sober … and your naked fucking treachery has robbed me of that moment.
BEN: That’s not true.
Jeremy picks up one of the shards of glass and pierces his finger until a few drops of blood flow. He shows it to Ben.
BEN: That’s not necessary. Can’t we save this high drama for the screen?
Jeremy smears the blood across his forehead.
JEREMY: It’s my blood on that film.
BEN: I know it is, Jeremy. That’s why I’m here. As your producer.
JEREMY: My blood. Blood and dreams going all the way back to the Jew ghetto of Vilna. From a little shtetl. How could you possibly understand something like that?
BEN: Yes I can.
Ben starting to get concerned.
BEN: Let me get you a Valium? Just for now … It’s not that I don’t … but we’re on deadline. This is for us … these changes.
JEREMY: (thinking) Could I get a couple of Vicodin instead? … Make it three.
BEN: Sure. Easy. Three it is.
Ben leans out the door.
BEN: (to the assistants) Call my office and have them send three Vicodin to the cutting room. Right now.
Ben glances over at the Avid. There is a frozen image of Sean Penn and his dead dog on the screen. Ben puts his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.
BEN: Jeremy, we need you to dig deep on this one. You can do it. We can get our victory in Cannes and I can get these bastards to spend a lot of money and distribute this film properly. Do you understand? You can do it.
JEREMY: (pointing to the Avid) It’s so fuckin’ hard for me. That’s my work.
BEN: Trust me. Once you do it, you make these cuts and trims, you get rid of the damn dead dog, you’ll forget the pain. You’ll feel cleansed.
JEREMY: I will?
BEN: Yes.
Jeremy gathers himself.
JEREMY: I don’t want you to see anything until I finish.
BEN: Sure. So long as I can review it with you before we leave. Just call me when you need me. Give me a hug.
They embrace. Jeremy holds on and won’t let go.
BEN: That’s it. Okay. Okay. Let’s go to work. C’mon. It’s okay. I gotta go now. We have a deadline. Let’s go to work. We can do this when we have our big victory at Cannes. Be strong. You can do it.
Ben gestures to Verna ‘cut the dog.’
JEREMY: Leave me alone now. Let me do my work. Leave me be.
Ben exits. Jeremy takes another swig from the tequila bottle.
Cut to:
EXT. FOX STUDIO PARKING LOT
BEN: No, no, no, Cal … I’m in my car. I’m driving on the 405 as we speak. I’m five minutes away. Cal relax, relax. I’m going over the hill right now. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.
Ben hangs up. He is rushing to his car parked on the other side of the lot when he runs into Scott, the screenwriter.
SCOTT: Hey, it’s a nice day, huh? What’s going on?
BEN: I’m late for a meeting with an actor about a beard. You must’ve sold your flower script.
SCOTT: How’d you know?
BEN: You said it was a nice day and you’re on this depraved lot. What else could it be?
SCOTT: Well let’s just say we’re in negotiations.
BEN: I’m sure it’ll be Batman for fairies. Who bought it?
SCOTT: I can’t tell you that. It’ll jinx it.
BEN: Oh, you’re start with that again? Just tell me.
SCOTT: I’m not gonna tell you. I’m superstitious that way.
BEN: You might as well tell me. I’m gonna find out anyway.
SCOTT: I’ll tell you tomorrow.
BEN: I’m so happy for you. Can’t wait to read it. When are you going to finish my rewrite.
SCOTT: Soon. Very soon.
BEN: When is that?
SCOTT: Soon is soon.
EXT. FOX STUDIO PARKING LOT/BEN’S BMW
Ben trying to look pleased gets to his car and starts to leave. His attention gets diverted when Scott lifts his pant leg and rests his foot on a car bumper. He’s wearing the same style of brightly colored Argyle socks that Ben found under Kelly’s bed.
Ben, motionless, just stares at Scott until Scott gets in his car.
Ben puts the sock back in the glove compartment and slams it shut.
Cut to:
INT. VAST ABANDONED FACTORY RECONVERTED TO A SOUNDSTAGE
SUPER: 4:00 PM
Inside, several large trucks are parked next to ten large trailers. Except for where people are working the place is quite dark. Sets are being built. Equipment (i.e. lights, cameras, dollies) is being unloaded and assembled.
Ben drives into the facility through a large side door. Across the way is a makeshift wardrobe room with a large bay window. By the clothing racks, he sees a large bearded actor trying on clothes. The Actor is profusely sweating. That call Ben got was quite accurate. The Actor does look a little bloated and he’s sporting a beard that Moses would have envied.
Ben gets out of his car just as Cal, the director, walks up.
BEN: Cal! How you holding up?
CAL: Uhhh, not good. It’s just ridiculous for you to say you’d be ten minutes. I find it silly, and actually obnoxious …
BEN: I had unexpected delays. I saw Moses through the window. What’s the status of the beard?
CAL: I don’t know.
Ben leads Cal inside the prop truck for privacy.
BEN: Did you tell him he has to shave?
CAL: I’m going to bring it up but I haven’t done it yet.
BEN: We start shooting Friday afternoon. Today is Tuesday.
CAL: I’m the director, I know what day it is.
BEN: I suppose it took him a long time to grow it, he probably wants to wait till the last minute …
CAL: That’s what I thought last week, but after seeing him read today, I sensed this is going to be his look. It’s an artistic choice.
BEN: The extra weight is too? It can’t be.
CAL: It’s a feeling.
BEN: Cal, we got the studio to pay him twenty million dollars to be a LEADING MAN. For that kind of money there’s an expectation.
CAL: I assume they expect a good performance.
BEN: No. No. For that kinda money, Cal, they expect millions of menstruating women to want to have intercourse with him. You understand what I’m saying? You want a poster that says ‘See Santa run?’
CAL: Okay.
BEN: Okay.
CAL: Okay.
BEN: Okay. Okay. Let’s go tell him to shave. He’ll shave. Especially if he hears it from you.
BEN: That’s the hope.
Cut to:
INT. WARDROBE ROOM—MOMENTS LATER
Crash! A wardrob
e rack is knocked over spilling most of the costumes onto the floor. Ben and Cal watch as the actor goes on a rampage. He turns to Cal and Ben. My God, it’s Bruce Willis.
ACTOR: Motherfuckers! MOTHERFUCKERS!
More clothes are strewn.
ACTOR: You guys are talking about my artistic integrity. INTEGRITY! Mother FUCKERS!!!
BEN: Did I say integrity?
The actor walks over to a wardrobe stand, shoves it out of his way. Cal slowly makes his way to the door. Ben tries to hold his ground, make sense of things.
BEN: Audiences want to know it’s you, Bruce. They expect it. We’re talking about a lot of money here. Twenty million dollars.
ACTOR: What the fuck are you talking about? They’re not gonna recognize me, Ben? Oh, I see. They’re gonna be confused? ‘WHERE DID BRUCE GO? I CAN’T SEE BRUCE? WHAT? WHAT? WHERE’S MY FAVORITE MOVIE STAR? (looks in a mirror, smiles) OH, I SEE HIM. HE’S RIGHT THERE! THE GUY WITH THE BEARD!’
BEN: You know the business, there’s a demographic that has to be served. It’s about falling in love with the hero! There’s a tradition to this stuff …
ACTOR: Oh! I get it. This is about pussy.
BEN: More or less …
ACTOR: Let me tell you a funny story. I’ve been growing this beard for six months and I’ve been knocking off trim right and left, twenty-four-seven. And no complaints.
CAL: (turning to Ben) Maybe we should listen to him …
ACTOR: Shut the fuck up, Cal. Hollywood producer, my ass. I knew this mentality was coming. Never a doubt. Never a doubt. You no talent … straight to video, talentless motherfucker …
Ben, out of the ashes, begins to rise from his chair. For the first time in his grueling day he seems to be taking this current onslaught personally.
BEN: You want to talk about INTEGRITY?
ACTOR: Yeah!
BEN: You want to talk about art. Art! Let’s go. LET’S GO.
Ben starts flailing his arms like an agitated Mideastern vendor. Cal is frozen.
BEN: Let’s talk about INTEGRITY. Hey, hey, I’m willing to stack my last three pictures against your last three pictures. Huh! Let’s talk about that!
ACTOR: You’ve gone too far. You don’t have any pictures, you’re a producer.
Ben can’t stop himself.
BEN: Why don’t we start by GIVING YOUR OVERBLOWN SALARY TO THE FUCKING RED CROSS. That would show me some integrity. Let’s be honest!
The Actor is about to grab Ben by his shirt. He gets nose to nose with Ben. Ben tries to hold his ground but can’t help but take a couple of steps back. He’s cornered against the wall.
For whatever reason, perhaps his innate fear of criminal prosecution or perhaps just not wanting to hurt someone, the Actor changes his mind.
ACTOR: (whispering) Motherfucker.
He slowly walks out of the room, creating a path of destruction as he makes his way to his trailer.
ACTOR: … Can’t have a beard in the movie … Can’t wear clothes anymore … Steve! Throw out the clothes!! Don’t need craft service anymore … (he turns the table over, people scatter) … Sit anywhere fellas. (he throws a director’s chair across the stage) Here’s your chair! … Somebody fix this door! You happy now you got my blood pressure up?!
Ben and Cal peer at each other for an extended moment, both trying to conjure up some twisted grin in an attempt to hold onto their dignity.
BEN: Well, I, for one, don’t think he expects to shave.
CAL: I felt that.
BEN: The police should have put me on producer’s suspension. I blame myself. I shouldn’t have let it get so personal. I’ll call Sid and see what the money is willing to live with.
CAL: We’ll make it right.
BEN: Yeah. We’ve got four days to sort this out. I didn’t realize he felt that strongly about it.
Suddenly a loud explosion emanates from the Actor’s trailer. It sounds as if an espresso machine might have been hurled against a full length mirror. The trailer shakes and then goes dead still.
ACTOR: Now that video’s done we’re not gonna need this anymore! (he throws some equipment out of his trailer) Blow me fellas! BLOW ME!
Cal is hyperventilating.
BEN: Take it easy. You’re okay. You’re doing a good job. We’ll get there.
INT. VAST ABANDONED FACTORY RECONVERTED TO A SOUNDSTAGE
They walk toward Ben’s car.
CAL: Did you know I heard that just before Jack decided to ‘off’ himself, he spent his entire bonus, all of it, his last dime, actually, on an Ed Reed painting.
BEN: Classy, classy guy. He loved the arts.
CAL: It was a giant brown oil painting and it had one big word across it.
BEN: Yeah, what?
CAL: That was the word. ‘WHAT.’
Ben eyes Cal. He’s trying hard to make sense of his day.
BEN: I’ll call Sid from the car.
Cut to:
INT. BEN’S BMW—EARLY EVENING
SUPER: 6:30 PM
Ben is driving in slow traffic on the 405 coming over the pass into Brentwood.
BEN: Ha. Ha. Good one, Sid. Listen, I need the studio to give me some flexibility on this one.
SID (V.O.): Okay, what do you call a man with no arms or legs in a swimming pool?
BEN: I give, Sidney.
SID (V.O.): BOB! Get it. Bob!
Sid howls.
BEN: I get it. I do, Sidney. Listen, out of all the studio heads you are by far the funniest. But you have to stay with me. This is Bruce Willis we’re talking about. He might have a point. Maybe we need to bend … we could … you know … think creatively. In fact, he could have a point. Maybe we need to rethink that. The beard might be the right way to go.
SID (V.O.): Let’s keep it simple, Ben. I’m not Lou. I like to be direct.
BEN: Tell me what I have to do.
SID (V.O.): If that bastard doesn’t shave and look like a leading man … A. We shut the movie down. B. We sue him for all damages. C. We then sue you for misrepresentation.
BEN: Awww Sidney. C’mon. Let’s have lunch and discuss this like men.
SID (V.O.): Call my office.
Click.
BEN: Okay, Sidney. Sidney? Hello?
Cut to:
INT. BEN’S BEDROOM—EVENING
SUPER: 6:40 PM
Ben is getting re-dressed to go out to dinner. He’s on the speaker phone with Dick Bell, the star’s agent, who was at the preview screening earlier.
BEN: Are you saying Bruce never mentioned this to you? You’re his agent, his confidant for God’s sake. We’re on the ledge on this one. He’s got four days to clean himself up. And I’ll personally pay for the trainer.
DICK’S VOICE: You’ve got to be kidding.
BEN: No, Dick, I’m not kidding.
DICK’S VOICE: This can’t be happening now.
BEN: It’s happening.
INT. DICK’S MALIBU HOUSE—INTERCUT WITH BEN’S BEDROOM
INTERCUT THIS CONVERSATION with Dick who is standing in his master bedroom on the second floor of his Malibu beach house, watching the ocean. He’s pacing back and forth holding a wireless phone.
DICK: This late in the game, you tell me it’s HAPPENING!!? It can’t be.
We cut back to Ben’s apartment. He’s changing his pants.
BEN: ’Fraid so.
Ben hears, through his speaker, Dick explode with a weird vomiting sound. A death rattle. A dry heave.
DICK’S VOICE.: AAARRRGGGHHH! AAAAARRRGHHH!
Ben runs to the speaker phone as if trying to come to Dick’s aid.
BEN: What was that …?
Back to Dick, his face is a bit more ashen.
DICK: It’s nothing.
BEN’S VOICE: That’s nothing!
DICK: Finish your point. How much does he know?
BEN’S VOICE: It’s a bit sketchy. We all got lathered up. Things might have been taken out of context.
DICK: Tell me exactly what was said.
Ba
ck to Ben’s apartment.
BEN: You know how it goes. ‘Fuck you. No, no. FUCK YOU!’ And then it got worse. Why not call me back after you talk to him?
DICK’S VOICE.: To tell him he’s going to get fired and sued for all the money in his piggy bank? I don’t want to. You give him the bad news?
BEN: Dick, you’re an agent. Delivering bad news is part of the job description.
DICK’S VOICE: I can’t do it. The messenger gets killed. You know that. I can’t. Just shoot me.
Back to Dick’s master bedroom.
DICK: I’ve been working with him for two years. He’s one of my most important clients but he’s very mercurial. He can snap at any time.
BEN’S VOICE: You’re scared of him.
DICK: I’m not scared of him … I’m scared of all of them … could you hold a second?
DICK: AAAARRRRGGGHHH …
BEN’S VOICE: You okay?
DICK: Yes. It’s a stomach disorder. It comes and it … GUGHH … (a little dry rattle as he gazes at his gorgeous view of the ocean) … and it goes.
Back to Ben pacing near the speaker phone.
BEN: You … Maybe we should do this later. Yes. Let’s do this later.
DICK’S VOICE: No. Seriously. I’m fine.
BEN: Sure?
DICK’S VOICE: Absolutely. They cut me back on my antidepressants so I can get it up, but … the withdrawal makes my stomach clench. Sounds worse than it is. I even had to cut back Klonopin.
BEN: When do you take that?
DICK’S VOICE: Travel. Whenever I pack.
BEN: When you pack?
DICK’S VOICE: Too many choices … arruugh. G’head, I’m okay.
BEN: Dick, your client has to give us some relief … let’s figure out how we can solve this beard thing?
Back to Dick’s place. He seems to have composed himself.
DICK: We! WE! For a start, whyn’t we let him wear his fucking beard. Excuse me, but what’s the big deal?
BEN’S VOICE: We’re way past that now.
DICK: Yesterday everything was fine. How did we get WAY PAST THAT in one day?
Back to Ben.
BEN: Money.
DICK’S VOICE: Have you told him about the shutting down of the movie?
BEN: No.
DICK’S VOICE: What about the lawsuit? Did you mention the word lawsuit.
BEN: I tried but the timing was bad. I couldn’t.
DICK’S VOICE: D’you know the ramifications of what you’re asking of me?
BEN: I do.