Beyond any caricature on “Entourage”

The interviews continue. Everyone I've spoken with has been great—really generous with their answers, thoughtful and offering interesting opinions.

But there's always one. And today I got that one… and it was especially disheartening.

See, the people I've chosen to interview, the writers, directors, actors, producers, managers – have all been people I felt would lend a good voice to the story. It hasn't been a random selection.

At the same time, I've been going after people that I've wanted to talk to for some time, anyway. From past experience, I've learned that speaking with people in an "interview setting", especially for a well-regarded magazine, is a really great way to develop relationships and friendships; some of which might be valuable down the line with a project, perhaps. I myself have become fast friends with some of the journalists that have interviewed me in the past.

Anyway, today was the day to interview a producer for whom I've had really, really high hopes. This is a guy that I've wanted to get my project to for a long time. Of all the interviews, he was, for me and my ulterior motives, the whale. Foremost though, I felt he could lend some interesting insights from the pinnacle of the producing world. I had just finished doing a great interview with a New York director and now, with great anticipation and heart beating slightly faster than usual, I called Mr. A List Hollywood Producer.

The conversation, if I could call it that, was the most disagreeable conversation I've had with anyone in Hollywood. In fact, it was the most disagreeable conversation I've had in any professional setting. EVER!

As far as I could see, there was no reason for it either. These were not prickly or accusatory questions; they were questions simply asking an opinion of something. They were the same questions I've been asking everyone else; the same questions that have been eliciting interesting and spirited answers.

This guy was a PRICK! (Excuse the word). After 25 minutes, I concluded the "interview" (torture session would be more accurate) and hung up the phone.

I just sat there for about ten minutes, stunned. This was the guy for whom I had been holding out all this hope? Was it me? Am I an idiot asking bad questions? Shell-shocked, I googled his name and a couple choice words for "not nice" and found no shortage of stories about him and the kind of 'human being' he is. A slight relief, though it didn't lessen the deep disappointment any.

Minutes later, still regaining my composure, I spoke with a manager for one of the largest and most important management firms in entertainment. I told him briefly about what had happened and he laughed. He confirmed that the guy was a legendary, um, person -- and was happy never to have had to deal with him.

Still, it was a hugely disillusioning because there is no way in hell I would want to work with this guy. The one incredibly brief answer he did give removed any drop of joy from the filmmaking process whatsoever. Life is too short to subject oneself to that misery. I'd rather eat glass.

So, scrape, scrape, scrape… I continue to dig at the wall.

Staying Focused on the Writing

I am finally immersed in the article that I'm writing for Fade In Magazine. None too soon too as it is due next week. This article is a deceptively difficult one because the topic is fairly narrow; there are a finite amount of ways to explore the subject matter. What's more, the general consensus of everyone that I'm interviewing is the same. There are no real 'good guys' or 'bad guys'. There's not much conflict. It is a philosophical story, more than anything else. Contractually, I must stay vague on the actual subject matter until it hits the newsstands.

It has been interesting to interview good, smart and well known people from the movie and television industry. Their range, career wise, has been enormous. It's exciting when you get to have in depth conversations with people you've admired from afar for years. Now, I must shape these interviews and my thoughts about the subject into something coherent and interesting.

As I write, my stomach is aching. It's not the writing job ahead of me or something I ate. It's a "good" ache.

Recently mid-life concerns about career, future, relationship, mortality, children and money have bulldozed their way to the front of my life, pushing everything in their path to the side. Distracting and unnerving, the angst has caused significant changes in my thought patterns, emotional patterns… and physical patterns; no choice in the matter for me. As was beautifully stated on Deadwood, "Change ain't lookin' for friends." The good news is that these changes are for the better; sometimes the computer needs to be reset.

Due to the "relationship-woes" diet, I've lost a dramatic amount of weight in the last three months. Rather than turn into a pathetic sack of skin and bones, wallowing in misery, I decided not to waste this opportunity and thus -- took it upon myself to begin a serious exercise regime. In addition to being good for my physical health, it saved my sanity. While I've never been "fat", I've have been overweight by several (okay, fifteen or twenty) pounds in the last years. Sitting in front of the computer endlessly, working at home and great meals with wine will do that after a while.

With a speedy return to my college weight, I decided -- once in my life, just once—even if it's only for a couple months, I'm going to try and get those "six pack abs" the commercials on late night television keep telling me women love.
Haha.
Am I insane? Am I vain?
Am I so deeply in the midst of a crisis that the next thing will be a convertible and a hot blonde?

No. I don't think so. It's just a "what the hell" kind of goal. Just so that I can say I did it. And like I already mentioned, the exercise is good for the soul.

Since I won't go so far as to actually join a gym, my workouts have been relegated to lifting weights at home, climbing the hundreds of stairs in the Silver Lake hills, jogging around Silver Lake itself—as well as the usual sit-ups, push ups, etc.

Today, after googling "six pack abs", I began a new stomach workout that requires nothing more than my couch; the perfect price. Here's the video.

That is why my stomach is aching.

Wish me luck, laugh at me or shake your head ruefully. Just don't ask me to post pictures.

Oh, and if I do get a convertible, I promise it won't be a Triumph Spitfire. I learned that lesson the last time I weighed what I weigh now.

Now back to what I should be doing—staying focused on the writing.

Next up -- SAG

My interviews have begun for the article I'm writing for Fade In Magazine. I have many more to do and so far, the task still has a daunting quality to it. Tomorrow morning (why aren't I sleeping now?) I'm going to the La Brea Tar Pits, where a rally will be taking place: "Hollywood to the Docks." Tomorrow is the beginning of the SAG (Screen Actor's Guild) negotiations. Hopefully the negotiations will go quickly and smoothly as these contracts, more than the Writer's Guild strike, are what screwed me up at the beginning of this year with my new movie (The movie, which requires expensive SAG actors, would not be bonded by insurance companies, nervous about a potential strike).

I don't think there will be any serious issues as this town really doesn't have the fortitude for another strike. But you never can tell—which is why the insurance companies weren't taking chances.

Today I interviewed an "A List" writer. In talking to him, I was really reminded, once again, that I have a long way to go before I'm in the major leagues. Hopefully, in writing this article, I can smooth some of the road ahead of me. It's been bumpy and full of potholes. It wears you out after a while.

In other interesting news: readers may remember an article I wrote last year about Foreign Levies. If not, there's a link to it in the right column of this blog. Well, today, The DGA (Directors Guild) settled the lawsuit. Here's a link to the story.

All these stories just keep reminding me of what a sordid and tough town Hollywood really is. You really have to be strong to survive. All the illusions (or delusions) one is taught in school or might believe in watching the Oscars, or some other awards show, are just well crafted, beautifully choreographed lies. It's not a town for wimps, that's for sure.

Okay, a quick entry… not very exciting. But I must sleep some so that I can be off to Wilshire blvd early tomorrow, my new digital voice recorder and questions in hand.

Crawl Forward

Life continues to be dramatic in its ups and downs. However, life goes on, doesn't it? The clock goes in one direction and we go with it.

The major facets of my personal life continue to be an unknown. That's all about that.

I am writing a new article for Fade in Magazine which will be in the next issue, barring editor disapproval. Another "social injustice of show business" story, I am hoping it will strike resonant chords with people both in this business and not.

Starting these stories is always a daunting prospect. One has a general thesis idea and hopefully some clear points, but the first paragraph, the sequence of events, the wrap up… and the quotes, the quotes, the quotes! Each quoted person represents hours of searching, locating, getting past gatekeepers, wrangling into agreeing to an interview, interviewing, transcribing—looking for the perfect statement (not to be used out of context). It's a lot of effort to be able to write, John Doe says, "I agree with you." Or, "You're full of crap."

That's where I am now. My questions have largely been compiled and now I'm creating my lists of targets for interview.

Oh, and it needs to all be ready for press by April 29^th.

I also continue to work on my other projects: A new 3D trailer for The Diamond Chasers, a new screenplay for which an outline and a few pages are also due by May 1^st.

Hollywood Gossip?

Not too much as I'm trying to stay focused on work. However, I did go to the wrap party for Speed Racer last night. Cool club, open bar (I didn't drink) and overall a bunch of happy people cutting loose—as can only be expected after round-the-clock-forget-what-your-family-looks-like work. I didn't actually work on the movie in any capacity; a friend had been on the special effects crew so I was a guest. I did get to meet and speak briefly with Emile Hirsch. Emile had been (and theoretically remains) a top choice for the lead in Diamond Chasers. However, with the way his career has taken off, it will most likely remain only a dream. I expect with the release of this movie, he will solidify the "screen icon" status in such a way that only top movies will be able to employ him. He's been working at it, so his super-stardom will not have been an overnight thing. If you haven't seen The Girl Next Door or Into the Wild, I do recommend them. It's a chance to see a star on the rise.
Christina Ricci - yup, Trixie was there too. Of course, the bosses themselves, the Wachowski Brothers, Andy and Larry were there looking content and confident. One thing Andy said, in complimenting some of the work everyone had done: "There's nothing out there like it." Coming from the guy that brought us The Matrix, it's an intriguing statement.

If only the heat lamps had worked better, because the dance floor was way too loud and most people, myself included, stayed outside on the huge patio. Though it is Los Angeles, it still does get chilly at 1:00 AM in April. I think the sad truth is that I will be reminded of this wrap party for the next week by a tickle in my throat and a sniffly nose.

Okay, time for me to go to work: pour a fresh cup of coffee, open up my questions.doc doc file, try to stay away from the 'relationship trouble' websites that I've been to a million times already, and focus on the job ahead.

Wish me luck and have a good one.

Arthur C. Clarke, Author of `2001: A Space Odyssey,' Dies at 90

March 19 (Bloomberg) -- Arthur C. Clarke, the U.K. science- fiction writer and futurist visionary best known for the novel adapted for the film ``2001: A Space Odyssey,'' has died. He was 90.

Yikes... what a day.

Anthony Minghella Dies

By Peter Griffiths

LONDON (Reuters) - British film director Anthony Minghella, who won an Oscar for "The English Patient", died in a London hospital on Tuesday after a short illness, his agent said. He was 54.

----

Anthony Minghella was a really smooth director. By that, I mean - his movies had a sheen, a beautiful quality about them that really let you sit back and relax. You knew you were in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing.

Here's an imdb 'cut and paste' list of his directing work. Some of his writing work overlapped.

My personal favorite of his was The Talented Mr. Ripley.

1. The Ninth Life of Louis Drax (2008) (announced)
2. New York, I Love You (2008) (filming)
   ... aka New York, je t'aime (France: literal title)
3. The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency (2008) (completed)
   
4. Breaking and Entering (2006)
5. Cold Mountain (2003)
6. Play (2000)
   
7. The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)
   
8. The English Patient (1996)
9. Mr. Wonderful (1993)
10. Truly Madly Deeply (1990)

Still Alive and Breathing

Years ago now, I named this blog, "Stefan Avalos Tells All." It wasn't meant as anything serious; I had intended to stay focused on the film making aspects of my life. However, over time, I have obviously written about my life. I have in fact, told all -- or at least, a lot.

I will stay vague on my life right now. Since it involves more than just me, I don't know that it would really be proper to tell all. However, in lieu of the fact that I haven't written much in the last few weeks, and that I still have faithful readers hoping for new words, I will admit some things. I am in the midst of one of the most difficult times in my life.

Marianne, my partner, my lover, my best friend of thirteen years left me, initiating a separation. Whether it is permanent or not remains to be seen, but for now she is gone. Trying to find out what means anything in her life, what her future is, she is seeking a new path. Whether it includes me or not I do not know. I don't think she knows either yet. It is not about lack of love. It is something else. It is about many things. But these will remain private.

There is nothing funny about a mid-life crisis, and when they hit with the severity of what she is going through, are incredibly painful for all involved; especially to those who have to helplessly watch, wondering what they could have and should have done differently. A physical punch to the stomach feels no different than what I am feeling right now. I know, I've been punched in the stomach. Feels the same.

I could blame and point, self-recriminations abound; I could look at things I've done wrong, or things she didn't communicate in a way that my male ears heard clearly. Or I could point angrily to books like that tripe(!) on every bestseller list, Eat, Pray, Love. I did ask her about it, and indeed – she had read it – just as every middle aged woman 'in search of herself' seems to be doing now. Unlike many though, Marianne thought it was not very good; something that other intelligent women seem to also think. Thankfully, Marianne's taste in literature seems to remain fairly intact.

No, it is more than just things for which I can blame myself, and it's more than bad writing that set her mind a-churning over the past months (it turns out).

She is rudderless attempting to find a direction and thus - I too have been forcibly be cast adrift. It's a rough sea, horribly unpleasant. But if there is any future to be had with her, I have to bear it.

Only time will tell.

I will attempt to return to more regular blogging. In fact, I have a very powerful topic to share with you all. I will write a name – a name some who come here will recognize instantly. And I am going to be writing about him soon: Richard Mazeffa.

One more note: Last night I was having dinner with a friend who just returned from SXSW (South by Southwest). We talked about the bands he heard and he said that he was happy to hear bands that gave him hope in Rock; that it isn't as dead as had believed it to be over the last ten years. I agreed saying that I had also recently found several bands that I really dug; that gave me hope in the musical future. He asked which I liked and I mentioned Devotchka. He told me he saw them at SXSW. It was one of those synchronous moments he and I have had on occasion. I'm listening to them now as I write this.

The long and the short of that last paragraph is that if you are looking for a wonderful, great and unique band – listen to Devotchka. They are one of the best I've heard in years!

Just a day in life

I went to a watch store to replace the band and battery of my watch. It's a ritual that happens once or so per year; price for the insistence of having a leather band. Every time the band is replaced, I wonder if there isn't some protection that can be put on it to lengthen its life – or am I doing something wrong to shorten its lifespan? I stop thinking about it the moment I strap on the watch and move on with my day, rationalizing that like everything else – the watch band won't last forever, no matter how hard I try.

When I left the store, I had to make a right-turn-only that, while designed to help traffic flow, only made it worse – every car that actually obeyed the sign simply u-turned forty feet down the road, causing far more disruption. In getting onto the freeway moments later, I noted a sign that, warning of a median strip, blocked the view of oncoming traffic. The blocked view of oncoming traffic was far more dangerous than the unlikely possibility of hitting the median.

Noting the irony of nothing lasting forever (on a timepiece no less), and the larger mistakes made in the attempt to improve something minute, I ponder my life's recent turns.

Finding meaning in everything can be an artist's weakness. Tremendous emotional turmoil tends to take these observations in embarrassing turns to the sophomoric. I know that and thus apologize for what is almost certainly adolescent writing. I recall an English professor speaking to me about three dead birds in the park. Were those three dead birds to appear in a novel or a poem or movie, it would have tremendous symbolic significance. In real life though, it is the curse of the overwrought novelist, poet (or filmmaker) who actually walks through the park not to simply note -- it is just three dead birds. Nothing more.

Okay.

Much less esoteric, adolescent and of more potential interest: I interviewed for a feature film directing job yesterday. Of course, the odds are extreme; the movie may never happen and I was but one person being interviewed. However, the possibility – the mere offer, gave me some hope; a bit of light in an otherwise dark month. The movie is a "Bollywood" feature, meaning (for those that don't know) an Indian movie, shot in India, with dance numbers, casts of thousands, etc. India is the largest producer of films in the world; a country where actors and actresses are deified in a way that has never happened in the U.S. – not even during the silent movie era. Though this wouldn't be a musical per se, it would include a couple musical numbers. I've always fantasized about directing a musical as if it were still the 1940's or 50's. It's an era that is gone, never to return except in a 'period' or 'retro' way. Doing a dance sequence as if Busby Berkeley were still the king today would require tongue firmly planted in cheek – lest one be laughed out of the theater.

The one possibility is the Bollywood film. There, the fantasy, musical style and innocence still remain to a certain extent. Add to that the fact of the Indian music being so darn danceable – wow, what a great chance.

We shall see.

Here, to put a grin and laugh on your face is a Bollywood dance number from 1965. The movie, Gumnaam is essentially Agatha Christie's Ten Little Indians. You'd never know it from the following scene. If I had my chance, this is the style of song and dance (updated of course to be a touch less goofy) that I would love to do.

where in the journey am I?

The hero's journey is something that every writer knows. It's the basic construct of much literature and film. Some might deride the 'structure' and 'pat-ness' of it, but it works. It's the real deal.

Lately, to keep a sense of humor about things, I've been applying this monomyth to my life. Just to keep sane as things were going a bit haywire.

Here's the rub to doing that: I thought I hit the 'Supreme Ordeal' last month when the movie was put on hold. This past week, I found that was just a little bump, one of the 'tests' that the hero must pass; mere preludes.

What I'm going through now... This, I hope, is the Supreme Ordeal. If not, I'm in for a serious bruising.

Unfortunately, the ordeal is not movie making related, it's not 'creative energy' related.

It is relationship related. It's the sort of ordeal that lays its blanket of pain, fear, anger and upset over every aspect of life.

Please forgive the nebulosity, it's a form of self-protection.

Stop walking and get back to writing

It looks like the writers that have been getting all that great exercise strolling around the studios may be able to get back to sitting in front of their computers for inordinate amounts of time.

The WGA is putting their tentative agreement out there this weekend for the rank and file to vote on. Most people are guessing that the WGA strike will come to an end of sorts, which is great news. However, it's not the be-all end-all yet. For Television writers, it is good news but for people like, oh… myself… it isn't the end of worries.

The hope is that now when the writers and directors get the contracts they like, SAG will quickly get one. However, until that actually happens, not a lot of movies are going to get the greenlight.

Hopefully the dissension within the actors unions isn't a harbinger of things to come. Currently AFTRA (yet another union – for actors) has started negotiating on their own. SAG hasn't started yet.

    LA TIMES
    Feb 4, 2008 by Richard Verrier

The American Federation of Television and Radio Artists has made good on its threat to break ranks with its more powerful sister union, the Screen Actors Guild.

AFTRA's board of directors voted Saturday to separately negotiate its upcoming prime-time television contract with the major studios -- without SAG at the bargaining table.

The decision effectively ends a 27-year partnership between the two unions under which they had jointly negotiated film and prime-time TV contracts. It also could complicate key upcoming negotiations for actors, whose contract expires June 30, potentially allowing the studios to play off one union against the other.

 

While this hasn't been big news yet for the public, this is the thing that is concerning a lot of movie people – even more than the WGA strike. Hopefully it will all settle down quickly.

 

Anyway, at least today, things seem to be looking up in a very broad sense.