A 5-Year-Old Fellini? : The Director Is a Kindergartner, but He’s Got All the Moves--and a Contract

The director is hot. Four films under his belt, a new five-year contract, scripts pouring in every day--and a fever that’s breaking 100.

So Gregory Scott is indoors, whizzing around his Tarzana house, ignoring doctor’s orders to rest, when a reporter knocks at the door. “It’s The Times !” his manager calls, in a tone that says, “This is important.”

The director is unimpressed. He wants to climb a ladder to the attic with the TV repairman.

“Can I go up? Please can I go?” the 5-year-old wheedles.

“Gregory really wants to be in the paper,” but not as much as much as he wants to be in the attic, says his manager, who also happens to be his mother.

Even the repairman can’t say no. “I saw you on ‘Arsenio’ . . . and ‘Entertainment Tonight’; you were terrific,” the technician tells the pint-size prodigy as the two head up the steps.

It’s not simple raising a 5-year-old Fellini, mostly because you never know what to expect, says Gregory’s mother, Helene Frances.

The surprises began at four months, when he started using words, she says. At age 1, he talked in “big sentences” and saw his first movie, “The Aristocats.”

“He was mesmerized, sat through till the end and came out singing one of the songs,” she recalls.

He pestered her daily to take him to the movies, learned to work the VCR so he could watch them at home and by 3 1/2 he’d decided on film-making as a career.

“He came out of nursery school one day and said ‘Mommy, I want to make movies,’ ” Frances recalls.

She said she’d send him to film school when he grew up; he said he wanted to make movies now.

At 4, she gave him a video camera. He immediately made “Pete and Sandy,” directing the family dogs in a tale about--what else?--pooches watching a movie.

When little friends came to play, he’d haul out his camera and direct them in stories he’d invent. He learned key commands--”action, cut, that’s a wrap--” from his mother, who by now was convinced he meant business.

Last June, Gregory was yelling “quiet on the set” near his favorite tree in a Sherman Oaks park, when a reporter noticed the oddity of the situation: Gregory, a kindergartner, seemed to be directing kids much older than he--and they were all obeying.

A story in the local paper led to TV talk show appearances, which led to his five-figure directing contract. The rest, as they say, is history. This week he’s directing a promotional film for L.A. Gear and Ocean Pacific.

Greg, back from the attic, is ready for milk, cookies and questions:

Question: How did you know you wanted to make movies?

Answer: I saw one I liked so much that I said to myself, “I can do that.” I don’t remember what movie it was.

Q: What was the first movie you made?

A: I wanted to make one called “Secret Treasure” with special effects, like a collapsible bridge. But I didn’t do it cause my mom didn’t know how to make the bridge. So I did “Pete and Sandy” instead. I wrote a story, told them what to do, got them in and out of the picture. Sometimes those dogs don’t listen. Then I made “Secret Treasure,” “Ghost Camp-Out in the Cemetery” and “Rock and Roll Teddy Bear.”

Q: Can we watch “Pete and Sandy?”

A: We lost it. We had an extra copy and we gave it to someone--I think to Steven Spielberg.

Q: How can you act, sing and direct all at the same time?

A: It’s easy. I just put my camera on a tripod and get in front of it.

Q: How do you remember the words and action? Your mom says you don’t read and write.

A: I just tell my mom what I want the people to say and she writes it down. But mostly I just see it all in my head. I can watch whole movies in my head. I’m watching one now. (Long pause) Wait a minute--it’s almost finished. (Another pause) There, it’s over.

Q: What were you watching?

A: One of my own movies.

Q: What are your favorite movies by other directors?

A: “Back To The Future,” parts I, II, III; “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” and “E.T.”

Gregory is ready for a nap. His mother worries that his cold will keep him out of school another day.

“I want him to have a normal life. I never use the G-word around him (for genius) because I don’t want him to feel he’s different. I don’t want to push him into this movie stuff,” she says.

He is not precocious or even very verbal, but he has presence, a kind of force: His mother places a pillow under his head and is about to position a second one. “Not there,” he commands, waving her away with a princely gesture. “ There, “ he says, pointing to a precise spot beneath his knees and heaving a deep sigh of satisfaction when she gets it right.

His plots are becoming more complex, his mother says. In the bear movie, for instance, the ghost of a real bear who likes rap music jumps into the body of a stuffed bear living in the bedroom of a family of four children. Greg, who is joining the Directors Guild of America, stars as the bear and sings a rap song he wrote.

Record companies want him to sign, she says, and his films for children may go on TV and in theaters.

Al Burton has a history of discovering young talent: Michael J. Fox, Valerie Bertinelli, Jason Bateman and Gary Coleman, among others. Burton says he invited Gregory to his office at Universal after seeing the boy and his films on the talk-show circuit.

“I was impressed with his persona on TV. I also saw from the film clip that he had gathered no fewer than six little kids, directed them on how to perform, costumed them, used props and special effects--he even held the camera steady.”

“His mother stayed in the waiting room while he made his own presentation, showed me his reel, discussed his work. He had the demeanor and self-confidence of an SC or UCLA film student.”

After seeing Gregory’s work, Burton decided the boy could direct two segments of an upcoming MCA/Universal family entertainment TV special. It stars folk singer Gregg Russell.

“The target audience for the show is Gregory’s peers, so I thought how great it would be to connect with the audience with such a young director,” Burton says.

Gregory will be “in total charge” of a mini-concert given by Russell. “I’ve already told him I have final cut--and I didn’t have to explain what that meant,” Burton says.

Greg’s film editor Jean Brown says she was “flabbergasted the first time I saw his films. They were very good. . . . He’s very precise about what he wants.”

Greg, of course, can’t see what the excitement is about. So he’s a director--big deal. What’s really exciting, he says, is his new Leggo set with satellites. And his new Regulator tennis shoes. And the back seat of the reporter’s car, which has been eaten by her puppy. “That’s neat--a puppy ate all that?” he muses, staring at the demolished seat. Then he looks up and asks: “Whaddya say we go to lunch together?”