Saturday Dec 09, 2006

Entre Nous

It went like this.

A couple of years of intense work were under my belt, and now it seemed that my Hollywood dream was ready to pay off. The auteur director who told us (I had two partners) that he would direct only his own scripts, now fell in love with a screenplay we had shown him from an up and coming writer.

We made the deal on a Friday afternoon; the auteur would finance, direct, and produce the film with us as his partners; our names as producers would finally be up on celluloid.

Monday morning seemed glorious until I received an irate call from the director. The deal was off. What? I was all ‘shook up’. It turned out that my partners (without consulting with me) had called the director over the weekend to renegotiate our agreement. They wanted more money.

After learning what had happened, there was no consoling the director. Our good faith currency had been spent on stupidity, and I couldn’t undo the damage.

I sat in the studio of my home in the Hollywood Hills. I was dejected as my two Yorkies, Larry and Beau, sat next to me. I made the call to our lawyer (who was a deal maker not a deal breaker) informing him that my partnership in our production company was now over. 

My ‘success’ in Hollywood again taught me to fly solo, which I have been doing ever since.

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