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For all of Eisner’s efforts to establish Disney as a “growth” company with 20 percent annual profit and market capitalization increases, the only division that indisputably met the criteria was ESPN, now run by Steve Bornstein’s affable former deputy, George Bodenheimer. Besides the steep increase in fees charged to cable operators, ESPN had aggressively expanded the brand, and now boasted ESPN2, ESPN Classic, and ESPNews. Still, there were concerns at ESPN’s Bristol headquarters. Bornstein’s eight-year, $9 billion deal with the NFL would expire in 2005. Any renewal would cost even more.
Ironically, ESPN was exactly what Eisner had always said he disdained: a distributor of content owned by others. True, ESPN had packaged that content in some original ways, with shows like “SportsCenter” and “Pardon the Interruption,” which were essentially sports talk shows. In July, ESPN’s programming head, thirty-three-year-old Mark Shapiro, hired conservative radio star Rush Limbaugh to add a provocative element to pregame football coverage. (Limbaugh was fired just a few weeks into the show after making what was deemed a racially insensitive remark, and then began treatment for what he described as an addiction to painkillers.) Despite these efforts, ESPN was essentially dependent on the rights to actual sports events. When it lost the rights to NASCAR racing, ratings suffered.
So the previous December, Shapiro spread the word that ESPN was looking for an original sports-themed dramatic series, something that would be “appointment TV” for the heavily male audience coveted by national advertisers. After all, the E in ESPN stood for “entertainment,” and a successful original series would lessen ESPN’s dependence on sports programming owned by others. Shapiro read over seventy scripts and treatments before focusing on “The Red Zone,” a pilot script by John Eisendrath, a former Washington Monthly reporter who was also a writer for ABC’s “Alias.” Eisendrath had originally written the script for the FX channel, which opted for “The Shield” instead.
Shapiro and other ESPN executives met with Eisendrath in Hollywood several times, and Eisendrath pressed his view that traditional fictional series about sports had never worked. A fictional sports event could never compete with the suspense and excitement of a real game. He wanted to do a series that used sports as a backdrop, a series about men caught up in a macho culture that didn’t sanction fear or emotion. In other words, professional football.
By February, Shapiro was so enthusiastic that he ordered eleven episodes, to be produced by Disney’s Touchstone studio, with plans to run each episode five to six times a week. Shapiro conferred regularly with Eisendrath over the story lines. In the script for the second episode, which was about drug usage by players, there was a reference to Hall of Famer Lawrence Taylor, the former linebacker for the New York Giants who admitted to years of drug use while in the NFL. Shapiro said he was worried about how the NFL would react, adding, “Look, we’re portraying a fictional world, and the NFL is already not terribly happy.” So any reference to an actual NFL player was banned (though references to real players in other sports were okay). Eisendrath thought that was ironic, given that ESPN itself had covered the Taylor story.
Even then, Shapiro pressed Eisendrath about the fictional drug addict on the team. “Do we have to keep seeing that?”
“Well, he is an addict,” Eisendrath responded. “He’s going to get help, but it’s not realistic to think he’ll be cleaned up by episode three.” Shapiro agreed.
By episode six, one of the players was coming out of the closet, a process extending over five episodes. “That’s too much,” Shapiro argued. “Our viewers don’t want to watch that.” ESPN had held focus groups in which it tested the plot lines for all eleven episodes. Shapiro said no one was interested in a gay theme.
Eisendrath laughed. “You’ve got fifteen guys, total strangers, sitting around—you’re not going to get them to raise their hands and say, ‘Gee, I want more of the gay character.’ ”
Shapiro agreed to four episodes focusing on a gay character.
The new show, “Playmakers,” debuted on ESPN on August 26. It was undeniably original and provocative. Eisendrath was impressed that Shapiro had the courage to put it on the air, and that Bodenheimer and ESPN backed him. It was also a ratings success, especially for cable, drawing an average of 2.2 million viewers, five times what ESPN had been getting for the time slot. “Playmakers” looked like a bona fide hit.
And then NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue saw a promotional spot for the show during ESPN’s broadcast of an NFL preseason game. The spot showed one player in a crack den, another getting an injection, and two others hiding cocaine in the glove compartment of their car. Tagliabue picked up the phone and called Eisner.
On September 9, Eisner has invited me to join him at the weekly studio meeting, where the feature film slate is reviewed, budgets are discussed, and deals are proposed. In the wake of Nemo, Pirates, and a surprise hit, Freaky Friday, a remake starring Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan, the film division is heading toward a record $3 billion in revenue. After a disappointing 2002, this box-office bonanza couldn’t have come at a better time for Eisner. It has helped him blunt the ongoing criticisms from Gold and Roy, and strengthened his hand with the board, demonstrating that he hasn’t lost his touch, and is precisely the kind of “creative” chief executive the company needs.
The meeting I’m attending isn’t where movie ideas are green-lit, which remains the prerogative of studio chairman Dick Cook and president Nina Jacobson, along with Eisner—decisions like that are made in Eisner’s office, or Cook’s, in meetings to which I haven’t been invited. Still, “The key to the studio is in this room,” Eisner tells me as we enter a conference room on the second floor of the Team Disney building, adjacent to Cook’s office. Unlike prior studio chairmen, from Katzenberg through Roth, each of whom had an office on the sixth floor near Eisner, Cook has opted to keep his office on the second floor with the other studio executives.
Cook is in Toronto on this day, where Touchstone’s Veronica Guerin is being shown at the Toronto Film Festival. Jacobson is in charge. When he is in town, Eisner attends these meetings regularly, and this week he congratulates Brigham Taylor on his recent promotion to senior vice president on the strength of Pirates of the Caribbean, whose story was his original idea. Responsibility for theme park–derived movies seems to have fallen to him. He’s at work on The Haunted Mansion, also inspired by a Disneyland attraction, starring Eddie Murphy, due in October.
Jacobson asks people to introduce themselves for my benefit. Brad Epstein, a studio production chief, is working on Ladder 49, about a group of New York City firemen starring John Travolta and Joaquin Phoenix, and Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. Eisner mentions that he’s flying to Florida to have lunch with Travolta. “He lives on a runway in Florida. He has his own hangar,” Eisner says, shaking his head in disbelief that anyone would want to live in such a place. “How is Travolta?” Eisner asks Epstein. Travolta’s weight has been fluctuating, a subject avidly chronicled in the tabloids.
“He looks fantastic,” Epstein assures him.
“This will be a good movie for him.”
“There is an issue,” Epstein continues, “over who dies in the fire. Who’s the hero? Travolta is wondering, ‘shouldn’t I be the one’?”
Eisner sidesteps the sensitive issue of whether Travolta’s character might be overshadowed by Phoenix, and the introductions continue. Jacobson emphasizes the importance of so-called below-the-line elements, such as schedule and budgets, and Eisner jumps in to remind everyone that “some creative things happen by holding the line.” He launches into an anecdote about Shelley Long and the making of Outrageous Fortune that, judging from the looks around the table, all have heard before. Eisner explains that a scene in the movie called for a set for a drama school, and instead the scene was shot with Shelley Long speaking into a telephone. “It only cost a dollar!” Eisner exclaims. “It was a very creative way to do what would have been a clichéd scene. Sanity on costs leads to better movie
s.”
“If the filmmakers had their way, the sky would be the limit,” Jacobson adds. “Matrix II is an example.” Eisner readily agrees that the Matrix series from Warner Bros. has become overburdened with expensive special effects.
Jacobson mentions another project in development about a NASCAR racer played by Dennis Quaid. “The script has been tough,” she says. “But it’s a great story of men learning to become fathers.”
“When will we release this?” Eisner asks.
“Summer of 2005.”
“Why not next summer?
“I wish we could.”
“Let’s discuss it.”
“It’s impossible.”
Next up is Princess Diaries 2, “You have to change the name,” Eisner says. “How about ‘Curse of the Black Dress’?” Everyone laughs at the reference to Pirates. “ ‘Princess in Love’? Princess Diaries 2 should be the subtitle.”
“The Santa Clause 2 worked,” someone points out.
“We got away with that one,” Eisner says. “Princess Diaries 2 is so boring.”
“I like Princess in Love,” Jacobson says. “The script needs some work, we have some issues on length…. It’s testing so big, more than it really deserves. It’s one hour and fifty-two minutes, not too long, but too long for the material.”
“It’s way too long,” Eisner says.
“It’s a struggle,” Jacobson says.
Jacobson mentions that they’ve gotten a good script for a feature film version of “Kim Possible,” the animated girl action-hero, which, like Lizzie McGuire, should have a guaranteed preteen audience. She says the movie could be ready for summer of 2004.
“Who’s in it?” Eisner asks.
“You have to find a girl.”
“Do we get Hilary Duff?” Eisner asks.
“No, you get a great new girl and create a franchise,” Jacobson says.
“Any girl can do this,” Taylor adds. “You can create a Kim Possible.”
Next up is The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, a remake of A Christmas Carol, starring Ben Affleck as Scrooge. The twist is that the ghosts are his past, present, and future girlfriends. Eisner says he’s just read the script. “I like it,” he says, “but it’s going to be tough to pull off for three reasons: one, he [the main character] is hateable.”
A discussion ensues. Eisner mentions that he’d been planning to attend the much-hyped “wedding of the century” between Affleck and Jennifer Lopez until it was abruptly canceled. The whole affair hasn’t exactly enhanced Affleck’s appeal.
“Two,” Eisner continues, “can you play Don Juan jokes for two hours?”
Jacobson agrees the jokes are a problem. “It’s too ribald. It’s got to be PG-13. This is supposed to be a romantic comedy.”
“You know,” Eisner muses, “sometimes A Christmas Carol is very boring. Going back to the ghosts stops the action. You want to know what happens next.” He pauses, then continues. “I like the Ghost of Christmas Present. Could she be Queen Latifah? But Christmas Past, Christmas Future, they’re very boring.” No one responds, so Eisner resumes.
“Three: it’s one note. It’s a clever idea.”
“It’s very well written,” Jacobson adds.
“Is it too clichéd? He’s so bad. There are no surprises once you know the gimmick.”
“That’s what a romantic comedy is,” Jacobson says.
“It could be fun,” Eisner allows, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “This could be a revival for Ben.” (Affleck’s most recent film, Gigli, had been savaged by critics and was a box-office flop.) “Is he negotiating like he’s had some failures?” he asks.
“Unfortunately, we got him before that,” Jacobson says.
The group moves through numerous projects: Dark Water, a thriller; Guardian, a Coast Guard story being considered by Ashton Kutcher; A Lot Like Love, a British script, maybe for Orlando Bloom; Flightplan, a Jodie Foster thriller about a mother whose baby disappears on a plane in midflight. “The script went to Johnny Depp yesterday,” Jacobson says, but “would you be comfortable with Sean Penn? He’s gettable.”
“What do we have for summer?” Eisner asks, then answers his own question. “The Woods [the latest Shyamalan thriller], Princess Diaries 2, Mr. 3000…”
“Maybe The Ladykillers,” Jacobson adds.
“This does not stand up to this summer,” Eisner says. “Flightplan might do it.”
“Or Ghosts of Girlfriends,” Jacobson suggests.
“We have to have something,” Eisner says.
Some more ideas are tossed out, including The Greatest Game Ever Played, about a golfer in the 1920s. Eisner looks dubious. “Do they play in those funny pants? Who cares about golf in the 1920s?”
Jacobson agrees. “Golf is boring. But it’s about character.”
“Of the whole list, it makes me nervous,” Eisner says. He asks to read the script.
Eisner thanks everyone again for a “fantastic summer,” but adds, “Now I’m nervous. I don’t want to go from $700 million to $200 million.” His anxiety seems palpable, and I’m reminded of Peter Schneider’s comment that Eisner can’t relax and enjoy success, because he’s too worried about what’s next.
“I’m seeing The Alamo tonight,” Jacobson says, sounding hopeful. The Alamo is slated for Disney’s big Christmas 2003 holiday release. “It’s the director’s cut. It’s three hours.”
“It won’t end up there?” Eisner asks, sounding alarmed.
“I hope not. I hear it’s really good.”
“Unless it’s The Godfather, people don’t want that much history. By the way,” Eisner adds before leaving. “Do we want to do another Western with Kevin Costner?” (Disney has just released Open Range).
“I can take a breather,” Jacobson says.
Eisner has recently met with Costner. “Costner has this idea. He said it’s a family movie. It’s an elephant thing. He said it’s three hours.
“I said, ‘We’ll do seventy-two minutes.’
“He said, ‘Why?’
“I said, ‘Because it’s an elephant movie! Elephant movies are difficult.’ ”
Everyone laughs. The staff seems in a good mood. “Congratulations on the summer,” Eisner says again. “It’s fantastic.”
Perhaps Eisner was right to be worried about next year. Later that day I ask if I can accompany Jacobson to see The Alamo but am told Directors’ Guild rules prohibit any outsiders from seeing the rough cut. Later, Eisner mentions that he’d seen it, and I ask him how it was. “It’s a mess,” he says, shaking his head.
Nor would Ghosts of Girlfriends Past come to the rescue for either the holiday or summer seasons. As Affleck’s reputation continued to take a drubbing in the tabloid press in the wake of his messy, highly public breakup with Jennifer Lopez, Jacobson killed the project, and Eisner agreed.
Two days after my meeting with Eisner and the studio executives, a new episode of “8 Simple Rules” was being shot at Touchstone’s Studio Six, on the Burbank lot. Although it was the second anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks, there was no pause in the shooting schedule, and “8 Simple Rules” was shooting the fourth episode in the new season.
That afternoon, John Ritter and the rest of the cast were making some promotional spots. As usual, Ritter was entertaining everyone in the cast, acting like a puppet. “Is your hair on straight?” director James Widdoes asked. Ritter grabbed his scalp, moved it back and forth, contorting his face. Everyone was laughing. The teenage cast members had come to think of Ritter as the father he played in the show.
They were about to start blocking that afternoon’s scenes when Ritter came over to Widdoes. “I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach. Can I go upstairs and lie down for a while?” Widdoes said fine, they’d use his stand-in. “Feel better,” he said.
When executive producer Flody Suarez got the news, he told an assistant director to get the nurse. He thought it might be food poisoning, and at about 5:00 P.M. Ritter checked into St. Jose
ph’s Hospital, across the street from the studio. Suarez hurried over to see him and poked his head into the room. Ritter looked pale. “Are you just lying there, or can we do one more promo?” Suarez quipped. “Fine,” Ritter grinned.
Ritter’s wife, Amy Yasbeck, showed up, as did his close friend and lawyer, Bob Myman; Steve McPherson, head of Touchstone, and others. After the doctors performed an electrocardiogram, Suarez called Susan Lyne, who’d already received an email from McPherson saying they’d shut down production early because Ritter wasn’t feeling well. Now Suarez told her the EKG “hadn’t gone well.” A half-hour later, he reported that “It’s much worse than we thought,” and the doctors were trying to prepare Amy for the worst. The next time Suarez called Lyne, he was sobbing. Ritter had died in surgery, the victim of a torn artery. He was fifty-four.
The stunned, grieving cast and crew gathered spontaneously the next morning on the soundstage. People were sobbing. Suarez ordered food and coffee. People took turns paying tribute to Ritter, and it seemed everyone had a story about how their lives had been touched by his generosity and humor. Both Braun and Lyne spoke briefly. Though no one broached the subject of what was going to happen now to “8 Simple Rules,” Lyne assured everyone that no one would lose their job.
Still, the issue had to be faced. “8 Simple Rules,” despite having been overshadowed by “American Idol,” was ABC’s most promising show, and the linchpin of the Tuesday-night schedule. The few precedents weren’t encouraging. Freddie Prinze, star of “Chico and the Man,” had killed himself during the show’s second season in 1977. Redd Foxx, star of “The Royal Family,” had died in 1991. Both shows had been canceled. Lyne and Braun both assumed that “8 Simple Rules” would suffer the same fate.