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Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Rapeland: LA Times swims with the leeches

When you were little, did you aspire to the fame, glory and spiritual avoirdupois of Harry Knowles? Not me, but it seems one Jay A. Fernandez, in a ” Special to The Times” column called “Scriptland,” wishes to become Hollywoodland’s next red-headed stepchild. In a vile column of pointless corporate espionage, Mr. Fernandez begins by rationalizing his potential revelation in the pages of the TribCo’s ever-faltering daily, the contents of the latest intellectual adventure by writer Charlie Kaufman, then doing so with alacrity. Taking_charlie's_mind_235.jpg Unproduced scripts circulate throughout the bottomlands of Hollywood; like gossip, they’re a component of what makes the community tick. Information? Power. [And there are SECRETS for a reason.] “I feel a bit like Frodo palming the One Ring,” Fernandez geeks to start. “The last two weeks have been a grueling cacophony of real and imagined voices—other journalists, producers, publicists, Kaufman, myself—trying to convince me either of my righteousness as a journalist or of my complicity in possibly hurting one of the greatest screenwriters in history… On a personal and professional level, I thought reading his latest script would bring me great joy…. [M]any people, beginning with Kaufman, do not want me to have the script, do not want me to read the script, and without question do not want me to write anything about [it]. Words like “super-sensitive,” “invasive” and “freaked” have been cautiously leveled at me as I’ve reached out to those involved with the project to get their thoughts on it.” So why not fold? “Ambitious doesn’t even begin to describe the sublime and scary head-trip that is ‘Synecdoche, New York.'” Assuming his readers are stupid and that Fernandez can flag his superiority to them or to anyone who is smarter than he, he geeks further: “For all those who aren’t AP English professors, a “synecdoche,” other than a clever play on Schenectady, where some of the film takes place, is a figure of speech in which a part is used to describe the whole or the whole is used to describe a part… Yes, I had to look it up. Several times.” He parcels a plateful of spoilers, of which I offer but one: “Page 1 features a 4-year-old girl having her butt wiped.” “No one has ever written a screenplay like this,” Fernandez avers. “It’s questionable whether cinema is even capable of handling the thematic, tonal and narrative weight of a story this ambitious.” He also covers the perverse sexuality in Scorsese’s The Departed. Disingenuously, Fernandez types, “But the script I have is only the backbone of the story, because the director apparently encouraged and used a significant amount of improv during filming.” [There’s a review of Fernandez’s rave over at the Big House of Charlie, Being Charlie Kaufman: “It’s all rather cryptic… but he gives the screenplay a mind-bogglingly big rave…. Not afraid of making a big call is our Jay. Kind of a hesitant relief to me, actually, because I had been thinking… another story about a writer, and about folks having problems dealing with their own realities?” Let’s see… a major metropolitan daily decides it’s a blog and… Paging Michel Gondry… Paging Michel Gondry…]

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It shows how out of it I was in trying to be in it, acknowledging that I was out of it to myself, and then thinking, “Okay, how do I stop being out of it? Well, I get some legitimate illogical narrative ideas” — some novel, you know?

So I decided on three writers that I might be able to option their material and get some producer, or myself as producer, and then get some writer to do a screenplay on it, and maybe make a movie.

And so the three projects were “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,” “Naked Lunch” and a collection of Bukowski. Which, in 1975, forget it — I mean, that was nuts. Hollywood would not touch any of that, but I was looking for something commercial, and I thought that all of these things were coming.

There would be no Blade Runner if there was no Ray Bradbury. I couldn’t find Philip K. Dick. His agent didn’t even know where he was. And so I gave up.

I was walking down the street and I ran into Bradbury — he directed a play that I was going to do as an actor, so we know each other, but he yelled “hi” — and I’d forgot who he was.

So at my girlfriend Barbara Hershey’s urging — I was with her at that moment — she said, “Talk to him! That guy really wants to talk to you,” and I said “No, fuck him,” and keep walking.

But then I did, and then I realized who it was, and I thought, “Wait, he’s in that realm, maybe he knows Philip K. Dick.” I said, “You know a guy named—” “Yeah, sure — you want his phone number?”

My friend paid my rent for a year while I wrote, because it turned out we couldn’t get a writer. My friends kept on me about, well, if you can’t get a writer, then you write.”
~ Hampton Fancher

“That was the most disappointing thing to me in how this thing was played. Is that I’m on the phone with you now, after all that’s been said, and the fundamental distinction between what James is dealing with in these other cases is not actually brought to the fore. The fundamental difference is that James Franco didn’t seek to use his position to have sex with anyone. There’s not a case of that. He wasn’t using his position or status to try to solicit a sexual favor from anyone. If he had — if that were what the accusation involved — the show would not have gone on. We would have folded up shop and we would have not completed the show. Because then it would have been the same as Harvey Weinstein, or Les Moonves, or any of these cases that are fundamental to this new paradigm. Did you not notice that? Why did you not notice that? Is that not something notable to say, journalistically? Because nobody could find the voice to say it. I’m not just being rhetorical. Why is it that you and the other critics, none of you could find the voice to say, “You know, it’s not this, it’s that”? Because — let me go on and speak further to this. If you go back to the L.A. Times piece, that’s what it lacked. That’s what they were not able to deliver. The one example in the five that involved an issue of a sexual act was between James and a woman he was dating, who he was not working with. There was no professional dynamic in any capacity.

~ David Simon