HOLLYWOOD

AN EXCERPT FROM A DWGHMF - Diary of a Writer Gone Hollywood Mother Fucker

People come to Hollywood to be in the industry. The allure. The obsession with celebrity fueled by the media, carries over to men and women that want to make something that will give them a voice. A voice unlike any other. There lies a massive problem. A town that follows trends fueled by fear is not going to bank on your ‘voice.’ It is going to hustle to work to read the trades and find out what won at the box office and turn around and do everything to reinvent that box office hit. They don’t want to be in People, or in tabloids. But they want to know those people. It’s all about being in the know. They make sure those precious clients, actors and producers, are at the top of their call sheet and makes a valiant attempt to sound smooth; in control.
“Get me Rex.”
An agent barks at his assistant who, if they are seasoned, already has dialed the client, and is ready to transfer the call.
“Rex, hey buddy, great numbers this weekend. You should take a vacation with that beautiful family of yours.”
Chances are he’s never met the client’s family, nor does he really care. There is some major money in publishing a catch phrase book for the dimwitted agent that runs out of obsequious remarks to spew on his clients. Key phrases like, ‘Hey big guy!’, more. The psychological games that agents play are quite entertaining in their ridiculousness. The delicate relationship between an agent and his client is a dance that changes over time depending on the success of each person’s career. If it is new talent paired with an accomplished agent, that agent makes it very clear from the start that ‘you need me more than I need you.’ The delicate dance is a mixture of ass kissing veiled with a threatening tone. This agent is not going to be on the horn very long with his new client, he has other Bigger clients to attend to, not to mention an afternoon of poaching to look forward to.
“Get me Fickle.”
“I already left word.” That’s code for ‘ I left a message.’
Are you ready to puke? I’ll do my best to spare you.
As I mentioned, the relationship evolves over time. What starts as an obnoxious façade of pretending to be more important than breakfast evolves into a beast, a bitch of a dance rooted in fear, where the agent must carefully maintain his seat of being necessary. The continual success of a client manifests the fear intrinsic to the job. The turning point in this relationship happens when the client realizes that at some point the agent needs him. The panic of losing that client helps fuel the fire of poaching. Here, once again, we find the sick dialogue that oozes with pathetic desperation at the core yet is masked with an upbeat tone. And, of course, the threat remains part of the strategy of poaching. A strategy of dropping names and educating a person on why Agent A is better then any alternative. Agent A has a commercial spot to convince a poor soul to join his team.
“We should have lunch.” Free food is always welcomed, everybody knows that. So how do you chew through the fat and know any truth behind all the silliness that spews out of Agent A? Simple, you can’t. Unless you are an assistant, you’ll never know anything about Agent A or the agency that he bleeds for.

Starters in this town enter a world of terror and abuse and quickly assimilate into the attitude one must take to survive.

Insecurity is the pink, fat, two faced elephant sitting in the latest lunch boat. Agents, managers, producers, writers, directors, all grapple with the polar society of Hollywood. You act like you own it, but you fear fear fear all the time. It’s not about rejection but learning to act like you are the shit (yet knowing you are the shit, but you are sitting across a table with a person full of the worms that are suppressed beneath the shit on the grass who will never see Plato's light of the sun.)

It is a tough game, for the worms that feed and need that shit, the agent, represents you. Fund your film. Make shit happen. But, when you are not ‘the shit’ and attempt to stay far from the grass, you enter a different sphere and find yourself wondering how you can assimilate and be ‘normal’ shit so you are taken seriously and not fail. Independent film was born on this notion. Screw the fat lunches, the SHIT in the yard of Hollywood…I am going to do it myself. And several do. Independent filmmakers were pioneers and said fuck you (thank God,) to the whole studio field of filmmaking.

Pathetic is thinking you are being real and dealing with bullshit and not walking away. Why would I put myself through horrific scenes just to hold onto some notion that honesty will conquer?