Reboot Angle #2 > The Expert

This is part of my blog reboot process. For the origin of the thought of the motivation of the why and the why now, please click back here.

"Suddenly, everybody's an expert."

Even though I heard this sarcastic comeback plenty growing up (often preceded by a long sigh), it appears to be truer than ever in the blogosphere.

Wouldn't you like to be an expert too?

Many blogs provide hard, demonstrable expertise in gadgetry, computers, cars, knitting etc. Many more are written by people who have positioned themselves as gurus of, how shall I put it, less verifiable topics such as fashion or love.

Then there are blogs that put a satirical twist on expertise, like the juggernaut Stuff White People Like.

What, if anything, would I be qualified to write about from the perspective of an Expert? I think there is a wide gap between an "expert" and an "enthusiast", in much the same way there is between a "genius" and the merely brilliant (which I touched on in this old post.) If I had to call myself an expert in anything, it would probably be screenplay structure.

it was fun to Google-image search "Screenplay Structure"

I was instructed in covering scripts the studio way at Sony/Tri-Star, studied screenwriting at UNC-Chapel Hill, UCLA Extension and Writers Boot Camp, and tinkered with the script for B. MONKEY with Oscar-nominated director Michael Radford as his Development Assistant. On top of that, I've read and written coverage on at least 2000 scripts for numerous Film and TV production companies and written five of my own, one of which I developed intensely with Emmy-nominated screenwriter (and my then-manager) Jim Thompson.

Despite all that, I'm still uncomfortable calling myself an "expert." Besides, the last thing in the world I want to blog about for any stretch of time is screenplay structure. After almost a dozen years as a development guy, it's a miracle I don't need glasses and/or a lobotomy.

I could probably stretch my thoughts on just this record to two posts.

What else? Well, this is even further down the ladder from "expert" to "enthusiast," but I'm passionate about music, particularly funk, soundtracks and house. I'm an avid music collector, music mag reader and have some experience as a deejay... but aren't there enough record reviewers out there?

I've been married for almost nine years- does that make me an expert on marriage (wait, don't answer that).

What topics could I write about expertly from a satirical viewpoint?

Jerks?
Facebook?
Bloggers?

If this was easy, I guess everyone would be doing it. Wait a minute, everyone IS doing it! There are almost 27 million bloggers in the U.S. alone, and I'd be willing to bet that at least 10% of them pass themselves off as experts. Could we have almost 3 million experts living in this fair land of ours? Who knows, you may even be friends with one and not even know it (although most experts like to announce their expert status pretty early on...).

My expert opinion is that I need to mull this angle over for a while and see if I have the chutzpah to call myself an expert even once more.

My Word... it's Bond.

Yesterday the New York Times informed me that Marc Forster will be directing the next Bond film, the second in Daniel Craig's sure-to-be-illustrious reign. The fine article, written by Terrence Rafferty, pointed out that Swiss-born Forster (best known for directing FINDING NEVERLAND and the upcoming THE KITE RUNNER) is not only the first Bond director who wasn't born in "the Commonwealth," but he's also the first to be born after the release of the first Bond film DR. NO in 1961. In fact, Forster was born in 1969, two years before I was and only four years before Roger Moore's first Bond, LIVE AND LET DIE.

Wow.

One can only hope Forster will cast a "Bond Girl" as close to perfection as Eva Green was

Ian Fleming's master spy has played as important a role in my development as almost any fictional character. The first Bond I saw in the theater was FOR YOUR EYES ONLY in 1981, and I can still remember the preadolescent tingle that Sheena Easton's theme song gave me as I wore out the cassette copy of the soundtrack for months afterwards. Mother and Father Word Player would dutifully record the ABC Movie of the Week on our "war horse" top-loading VCR whenever it was a Bond movie so I could see them without staying up past my school-night bedtime. I even read several of the officially sanctioned John Gardner Bond books that revived Bond in print fifteen years after Fleming's death (License Renewed and For Special Services were particularly good.)

In retrospect, the odds were good that I'd marry someone who'd gotten Pussy Galore's autograph

All of this accumulated Bond trivia and youthful devotion would come into play on two notable occasions in my adult life. The first contact Mrs. Word Player and I ever had came over the phone, and years before we met face-to-face. In the days before the internet, workplace trivia disagreements had to be settled by calling someone else in. This was the case when she and a workmate, who was a UNC chum of mine and had moved to LA around the same time as me in '95, had some Bond trivia they needed settling. He said he had a friend (me) who would know, they called and we had the brief conversation that would serve years later as the foundation of a much longer one that lead quickly to l-o-v-e.

Oddly enough, that wasn't even the story that popped to mind as I read the Forster article on Sunday. My "other" Bond story came rushing back, and led me to a box deep in storage that contained a prized possession from the day I met James Bond.

Tis better to've been Bond and lost ...

After working on THE FAN, I took a job as office assistant for a wonderful British producer named Kathy Eldon. A few days a week I would drive up to her cool apartment off Sunset Plaza and answer phones, read scripts, etc. Kathy's primary project was developing the artwork and journals of her son Dan Eldon into various book, documentary and film projects. Dan was a celebrated photojournalist who had been tragically killed at the age of 22 in Mogadishu, Somalia, when demonstrators who were rioting over a U.N. massacre turned on him and three fellow journalists and stoned them all to death. Since my time working for Kathy, much has been published from Dan's life, but the only book I've personally looked through is called The Journey is the Destination: The Journals of Dan Eldon, which I highly recommend.

As it turns out, Kathy was friends with Aussie actor George Lazenby, who portrayed Bond in 1969's ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE. She had George over for lunch one day and, knowing what a Bond fan I was, invited me to join them. I was extremely nervous beforehand, but once we all sat down Lazenby was charming and easygoing, and didn't mind at all answering my questions (although they were all ones he'd certainly answered a million times before).

He freely admitted that he'd gotten caught up in the whirlwind of fame surrounding his ascension from world's top male model to Connery's heir, and that a combination of arrogance, listening to bad advice, and poor management by his trusted advisors led to him turning down a multi-picture deal to continue as Bond. Instead, he signed what appeared to be a sensational deal to star alongside friend and mentor Bruce Lee in his next films. This proved to be the beginning of the end of his acting career, as Lee died shortly before their first film together (GAME OF DEATH) was to begin shooting, and in fact Lazenby had plans to have dinner with Lee the very night he died of a sudden heart attack.

I remember that he seemed more broken up about losing his friend Bruce Lee than about losing the Bond job, which humanized him when he could easily have come off as a sad sack who blew his big chance. He went on to marry tennis star (and member of the Kennedy clan) Pam Shriver, so I doubt he's doing too shabby these days.

Shortly after my lunch with Bond, a close friend (we'll call him Mr. CFA) flew out to LA and attended a party with me at Kathy Eldon's. Lazenby was there and, despite having imbibed a fair share of cheer, remembered me and talked briefly with us. CFA and I laughed for days afterwards at Lazenby's remark that we looked like brothers (even though we look nothing alike).

My brief time working for Eldon was pivotal for yet another reason, and one which I just remembered has another Bond moment embedded. Another expat friend of Eldon's was director Michael Radford, and when Michael told Kathy he needed an assistant (as his latest film IL POSTINO was soon to be released), she sent me over and I landed what turned out to be one of my best and most difficult jobs.

Fast forward to the days following IL POSTINO's five Oscar nominations, when Radford's phone was ringing off the hook with congratulatory calls. One of them went like this:

ME
Hello, Michael Radford's Office?

SC
Yes, is Michael There?

ME
(knowing instantly who it was)
May I tell him who's calling?

SC
Yes, this is Sean Connery.

Blind Spot Faith

I strongly disagree with the maxim that one "can never be too rich or too thin", but I'm on the fence about whether you can become too well-read, too musically well-listened or too cinematically well-viewed. On one hand, there's only so many hours in a life, and the more "completist" one becomes in any one category of audio/visual consumption seemingly has to mean neglect of the others (not to mention its impact on human relationships).

But on the other, can't the quixotic* impulse to read all the great books or listen to all the great music or see all the great movies be an enormously productive and propulsive inclination to give in to?

I've never heard of anyone dedicated to somehow working all the great jobs the world has to offer, and really, aren't we spending such an inordinate amount of our life working to ensure that we'll always be able to afford the relative sliver spent reading, watching movies or listening to music?

why are people always better looking in b&w?

All of this began bouncing 'round my coconut while reading "An Appreciation" of recently deceased Italian director Michelangeo Antonioni in the Calendar section of today's LA TIMES. As Death would have it, the 94 year-old Antonioni died July 30, a single day after the death of 89 year-old Swedish director Ingmar Bergman, another giant of world cinema.

When the I-have-no-say-in-this-free-association ball stopped bouncing, I was surprised to be thinking of Austrian director Fred Zinneman.

Way back in 1996, I was working as the development and personal assistant to British director Michael Radford. It was a very mercurial job: BEFORE the Nominations for the 68th Academy Awards were announced, Radford was "the guy who directed the 80's version of 1984". AFTER that very early morning in January, when Miramax wrung an amazing five Oscar nominations (including one for Best Director) out of Radford's Italian-language film IL POSTINO, Radford became a far different entity altogether.

Harvey and Bob spun gold out of Troisi's tragic death.

Perhaps I'll go into detail about working for Radford some other day, but for now it was our exchange about Fred Zinneman that's important.

OSCAR NOMINEE RADFORD
I went to a screening last night of HIGH NOON. Have you ever seen High Noon?

YOUNG MR. WORD PLAYER
Ah, actually, no. I've read a lot about it and--

ONR
Do you even know who Fred Zinneman is?

YMWP
Well, to be honest, no. Should I?

Saying that was a HUGE tactical error.

ONR
Are you SERIOUS? I can't believe it!
What are they teaching you over here?
Fred Zinneman is only the most...

Needless to say, I was wishing I hadn't picked a ninth viewing of HOLY GRAIL or BLAZING SADDLES** over renting the 1952 Western starring Gary Cooper.

But as my face turned redder and he had his fun scoffing my ignorance, I got to thinking about all the great films in the canon I HAD seen. And then I wondered how many if-you-haven't-seen-it-you're-clearly-a-dilettante-poseur films a twentysomething assistant was SUPPOSED to have seen.

And that feeling has stuck with me over the years.

Because I loathe it when someone gives me the exaggerated "I'm SHOCKED and DISAPPOINTED!" eye bulge when they hear I haven't read this or I'm not familiar with that, I pledged to cut the people I encounter a little slack when I discover they've gone their entire lives without experiencing first-hand a record or film that I hold dear.

As you may know, that approach ain't always easy.

Steering this behemoth back towards the point, the above decade-old conversation resurfaced because as I read Antonioni's obit, I realized that I'd only seen two of the movies he'd directed in his 60 years behind the camera- L'AVVENTURA (1960) and BLOW UP (1966). Bergman? Only one, 1957's THE SEVENTH SEAL.

"Mongo is but pawn in game of life."

Does this reveal mean I should be stripped of my Movie Buff status? Or should I be glad that I have virtually the entire filmography of two master directors yet to explore and (perhaps) enjoy?

I vote for the latter. Maybe someone admitting (under duress or otherwise) that blind spots exist in their personal experience of ANY medium should be seen as a happy occasion to turn someone on to the shit they NEED to see, toute de suite.

After all, we've all got 'em. Imagine the shattering despondence someone (a vampire?) might feel when they turned the final page of the last really good book on Earth that they hadn't read. The confession of a Blind Spot is a good indicator that someone's still alive.

After all, they easily could have lied about it to you and changed the subject.

*Full disclosure: I haven't even read Cervates' DON QUIXOTE, even though "quixotic" is one of my favorite words.

** When I finally did see HIGH NOON, I was stunned to discover that Mel Brooks copied its structure almost scene for scene for BLAZING SADDLES. So there.