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A Beautiful Night
Hollywood Milieu ©2002
By Denny Dormody
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| I'm smiling. Screen Goddess Faye Dunaway is smiling.
Akiva Goldsman, screenwriter of A Beautiful Mind is smiling. We're
all smiling. |
| Matter of fact, he's laughing. Now, we're all laughing.
This is a lecture on screenwriting, supplying the oxygen of hope to
a roomful of anxious writers. I've wangled a VIP chair, one seat from
Miss Dunaway. How did a humble perspiring screenwriter end up almost
next to a screen goddess? I'll let you fill in the sordid blanks. |
| Let's say I work there as a night security guard and
I showed up early for the gig. Let's say IÕm dating one of the ticket
ladies. Let's say I've followed a time-honored tradition in Hollywood:
I bought my way in. Like I said: you fill in the blanks. |
| Akiva tells us the tale of writing A Beautiful Mind.
Some of my fellow storytellers are taking notes. Copious notes. Notes
like I should have taken back at Ohio University. College. Best seven
years of my life. |
| We're all writing down the notes of how to write the
great American screenplay? I'm taking notes in my head. I'm hoping
for my own simple roaches to riches LA Story. My needs are simple:
Sell a screenplay; Lunch with Spielberg; On the set with Gwyneth;
crustaceans at Crustacean Restaurant in Beverly Hills; and a Sodom
and Gomorrah scenario, maybe at Haagen Dazs on Sunset Blvd. |
| Faye is asking a question about writing structure. Akiva
Goldsman is answering the question now. In my mind I'm watching her
run near naked down the stairway in Bonnie & Clyde, in the sauna sweating
with Steve McQueen in The Thomas Crown Affair (why didn't I show for
that audition?), bandaging Jack Nicholson's nose in Chinatown and
the sultry psychiatrist with Pierce Brosnan in Thomas Crown II. Talk
about inspiring a writer. Miss Dunaway youÕre one of the reasons weÕre
all here. |
| Now we're all laughing again. Now weÕre standing. Now
we're applauding. Now I'm driving home. Reflected in the windshield,
the streetlights and neon rainbows rake across my face like the passing
ghosts from a film noir black and white cable rerun. I'm driving past
the good, the bad and the desperate of LA. Now IÕm passing Hollywood
and Vine near Capitol Records. The Hollywood milieu is enveloped in
fog as I head back to the anonyonmity of suburbia. Back to my just-big-enough-to-swing-a-cat
apartment. Back to my screenwriting software. And tomorrow; back to
my day job. |
| In the halogen light of my Ikea desk lamp I listen to
the disemboweled voice on my answering machine. Some actress I worked
with on Lifetime's The Division has given my name to a casting lady
recruiting extras for a Chinese feature that just began shooting.
I grab a little cold R&R (Rolling Rock) and remote click to Leno's
TV monologue. Last week I wrote a joke for him and field-tested it
around the water cooler. I called his production office trying for
a yes. His production lady said no. |
| Still itÕs been a great night. A night of knowledge.
A night of laughter. A night of hope. Hey, anything can happen here.
This is Hollywood. |
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