Miscellaneous: It Came From Hollywood

I’m back. Did you miss me?

First of all, a round of applause for Rosemarie. I told you she’d deliver the goods. Now I’m not the only person telling her she should start a blog of her own. Plus she had the DVR working in no time, so I didn’t miss a minute of PROJECT GREENLIGHT or EYES.

My trip to Los Angeles was exhausting and exhilarating. Shortly before I left my screenplay BLIND SPOT, an original noir thriller, was optioned. I talked to the producers on the set of their current film, where I had the chance to see a cast of top-flight actors work their magic up close. More details will be forthcoming, but I can say that the producers and I seem very much in sync and that I can’t wait to get started on the next step in the process. For all the talk of film being a collaborative medium, a writer often ends up working all by his or her lonesome. I’m grateful for the opportunity to play with somebody else. At long last.

I also did a round of meetings. Lots of bottled water and smart talk about movies. I listened to a few ideas and pitched some of my own. I don’t know if these sessions will lead to anything, but they’re never dull.

A friend took me to dinner at The Palm, a legendary steak house frequented by people who, in the words of Hank Kingsley, are not from the old school, but the school they tore down to build the old school. Case in point: Larry King, who was at the next table. I also had a few cocktails at Dominick’s, an old Rat Pack hangout that’s making a comeback. On the way out, I literally walked into CSI’s William Petersen.

No matter what happens, I’m always going to approach Hollywood with a certain degree of awe. I was on the Warner Brothers lot and passed a soundstage featuring some of the sets from THE GILMORE GIRLS. A plaque alongside the door listed some of the movies that had been filmed inside, including CASABLANCA and one of Rosemarie’s favorites, 42nd STREET. I stood there for a moment and placed my hand on the side of the building, which generated a few odd stares from some nearby Teamsters. I didn’t care.

I also stopped by the Chinese Theater to look at the stars’ footprints in cement. While I was there, I overheard this from a twenty-something girl:

“God. Jean Simmons wore his heels when he was here. And his feet are so small!”

Ah, show business. Like no business I know.