DOCUMENTARIANS IN THE EYE OF HURRICANE ‘LILY’

Put yourself in Lily Tomlin’s position. You own the video rights to a documentary about the evolution of your successful one-woman Broadway show “The Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe.” The rights may be worth $1 million, maybe more. All you have to do is have your agents make a few calls, shop it around, then take your loot to the bank.

But, there’s a problem. You don’t like the documentary. You think it shows so much of your act that paying customers--the stage show is still packing them in at the Doolittle Theater, after a long run on Broadway--will stay away from the live performance.

The comedian still has a lawsuit claiming damages against documentary film makers Nick Broomfield and Joan Churchill. Tomlin declined to discuss the suit or her feelings about the film.

However, Broomfield and Churchill think they know what the fuss is all about, and as they scurry to recoup some of their costs through a theatrical release of “Lily Tomlin,” they don’t mind talking about it. They believe Tomlin agreed to the documentary not knowing how successful her show would become and that she considers it a threat to her chances of marketing a concert film that has many times more commercial potential.

“When the show started out, it was just a teeny idea about doing a one-woman show,” Broomfield said. “No one knew that it would work as well as it did. It suddenly became something where Lily was being offered several million dollars for a film of the show, for books of the show, all these things no one thought of before.”

“Lily Tomlin” makes its theatrical debut today at the Westside Pavilion (see review by Kevin Thomas on Page 15), then moves on to other cities.

Tomlin successfully stopped a screening for potential distributors in New York last year, and managed to keep the documentary out of the New York and Telluride film festivals, they said. But a Los Angeles Superior Court judge eventually lifted the restraining order, paving the way for the theatrical release.

Broomfield and Churchill have made better documentaries. “Soldier Girls,” which followed a company of female recruits at an Army boot camp, and “Tattooed Tears,” a look at life inside a California Youth Authority prison, are examples of cinema verite (the camera as chronicler) at its best.

If Tomlin looked at those two films before signing on for this one, it’s hard to imagine her being surprised at the results. Broomfield, who works the sound equipment, and Churchill, who holds the camera, do no voice-over narration, no on-camera interviews. Their films are edited to allow the events to evoke responses.

On first impression, the films seem exploitative, with the screen’s eyes and ears hanging on the most uncomfortable emotional situations.

But the films both have important things to say, without saying them. “Soldier Girls” showed how Army recruiters, mostly in the South, were luring young black women into the service by painting summer-camp images of the Army life style. “Tattooed Tears” showed how easy it is for young men to have their sentences grow from months to years for fighting in the uncontrolled environment.

Perhaps Broomfield and Churchill, who began working together in England 13 years ago, chose too soft a subject in Tomlin.

“What we really wanted to do was make a film that dealt with the sort of creative relationship that exists between a performer and a writer,” Broomfield said. “When they’re walking down the street and see something amusing, do they try to work that into the show? What provides the inspiration?”

It turned out that there were few unguarded moments for Broomfield and Churchill to capture. They said Tomlin was terrific whenever she was in front of an audience, whether performing or just shucking, but off stage, she closed up.

“We had difficulty getting access to things we needed,” Churchill said. “We spent a lot of time in hotel rooms cooling our heels waiting to be allowed to film. We felt we were wasting a lot of our time.”

Churchill said Tomlin was so self-conscious about her appearance and her behavior in spontaneous situations that she all but declined to put herself in that position. Occasionally, the film makers said they were asked to set up lighting ahead of time while Tomlin and writer Jane Wagner made themselves up for the “spontaneous” sessions.

“She made the play with great pain and angst ,” Broomfield said. “She stuck with characters and bits when everyone else was telling her to take them out of the show. She sensed somehow that they would work and she was right.

“She was terribly worried that (the insecure) aspect of her would look like weakness and she didn’t want us filming that. I said, ‘Lily, this vulnerability is what will really endear you to people. We can all identify with that.’ She would say, ‘Why don’t you come back tomorrow and we’ll re-create my vulnerability?’ ”

The “Works in Progress” ended up lasting a year longer than planned, with the cost of the second year coming out of the film makers’ salaries. The film ended up costing more than $500,000 to make.

When Tomlin saw the rough cut, the film makers said, she raised no objections. But a few days later, they received the first list of suggested changes. They made the changes, then got another list. Although their contract gave them creative control, they made nearly 20 changes at her suggestion. Then came another list.

“The list said ‘Final changes’ at the top,” Churchill said. “There were about five requests. We said to her, ‘We’ll make these changes, but we need assurance that will be it.’ We didn’t get that assurance.”

Ironically, Tomlin had built “kill rights” into the contract that she never used. Anything that was shot in the star’s dressing room, motel bedroom or in her house was subject to her approval. Most of the changes, according to Broomfield, were from her performances.

“Lily Tomlin” would seem to have little chance of theatrical success. Because of the existing lawsuit, no distributor would handle it, and the odds on one couple finding the skills to market a 16mm documentary in theaters across the country are long. But Broomfield and Churchill said the attempt is being made because it’s their only chance at getting paid for nearly three years of work.

They have the cable, pay-TV and over-the-air TV rights, but they cannot market the potentially lucrative pay-TV rights until PBS airs the show (probably in September).

Said Broomfield: “We are crossing our fingers and hoping that if we get a positive reaction to the film, that if people like Lily . . . she will feel it’s not in her best interest (to resist). That the film will work for her in the long run.”