What Just Happened? by Art Linson Page A

at me with a semisatisfied smirk. He knew I was going to pay. The accepted protocol in this town was that the one still functioning wasthe one who paid. There’s a pecking order to all this. Agents always pay. Executives usually pay. Talent never pays. And producers rarely get asked out. For those who have left the business, voluntarily or not, the courtesy was for the survivor to pick up the tab. And a show of gratitude was never required since the assumption was that those who were still working had an expense account. It wasn’t really their money anyway. And besides, Jerry wasn’t large on gratitude.
    â€˜Frankly, this story is very dull,’ Jerry proclaimed.
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜No drama.’
    â€˜How so?’
    â€˜This deal had to make.’
    â€˜I wasn’t so sure.’
    â€˜If Mamet were drooling all over his shoes and said, “I want to write about the art of grilling squid,” you woulda ended up with a deal.’
    â€˜Jerry, I think you’ve been out of the loop for too long.’
    â€˜Please, you were in your honeymoon phase, it was a nobrainer. Or as Dawn Steel used to say, “Hello!”’
    â€˜I don’t take anything for granted.’
    â€˜Once Mechanic spent all this money on you, what’s he gonna do on the first thing you’re excited about? Say, “Fuck you!” I think not. Wait’ll you deliver a coupla stink bombs his way. Wait’ll one of those beauties of yours gets made and opens on a Friday and you get the death call on Monday. You’ll see, Mamet’s gonna have to sound like Richard Burton in a tutu reciting Macbeth before you’re gonna get the cash.’
    â€˜Don’t hold back.’
    Of course, Jerry was being astute. There is a grace period where the buyer wants to believe he’s made the right purchase. Mechanic had just made this deal with me. He’s got to show some support or his superior is going to question why the hell the deal was made in the first place.
    â€˜Y’know, I really miss sitting in on those pitch meetings,’ Jerry said wistfully. ‘If you’ll permit me a movie metaphor, “Aahh … it’s like the fresh smell of napalm in the morning” … I wasgood at it. I would listen patiently, with my eyes slightly moist, waiting for the person to finish his or her ambitious tale. Then, I would lean back with a complicit nod to show artistic respect. And then, after the room went still for about ten seconds, I would draw an appreciative smile, letting them see my soft side, and say, “It’s just not my cup of wonton. Sorry.” Ooohweee … like a cool breeze in summer.’
    â€˜Jerry, that’s why you’re loved.’

THREE
Over the Edge
    It was the middle of December and I was feeling smug. It was one of those good Hollywood mornings where I actually woke up with the confidence that I’m usually faking. This was due to a combination of things. A morning article in the trades had surfaced, revealing that Paramount’s most profitable movie of the year was
Clueless
, a light comedy written and directed by Amy Heckerling, whose first movie,
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
, had been produced by me ages ago. It wasn’t simply the parental pride that gave me the satisfying glow. The mention that
Clueless
had been developed by Fox and subsequently put into turnaround by Fox was the intriguing sidebar. This meant that after the executives Jacobson, Mechanic, and Chernin et al had read the script, they’d passed on it. For a myriad of reasons they collectively believed that it was too silly, wouldn’t work, and it was time to recoup some development costs. So they had quickly sold it off to Scott Rudin and Paramount, only to get snakebitten by its success months later. While Paramount was celebrating their most profitable movie of that year, Fox was languishing in last place in total yearly grosses among all of the