COLUMN ONE : The Climbing Game : Miramax Film Corp. is atop the Hollywood heap, thanks to ‘The Crying Game.’ The brothers who run the firm are legendary for brilliant promotion and hardball--some say ruthless--tactics.

If the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences awarded an Oscar for most dramatic comeback, no one in tonight’s audience would be surprised by the outcome.

The winner would be Miramax Film Corp., which has rebounded from a string of box office disappointments to become the industry’s unchallenged leader in independent movie distribution, largely on the basis of a quirky British import called “The Crying Game.”

New York-based Miramax is competing for 12 Academy Awards--more than any Hollywood studio except industry giant Warner Bros. Six of those nominations belong to “The Crying Game,” which Miramax turned into a national sensation by incessantly playing up its secret plot twist. The company also is up for “Enchanted April” and “Passion Fish.”

Brothers Harvey and Bob Weinstein, college dropouts from Queens, N.Y., who founded Miramax 14 years ago, are renowned in Hollywood for their tireless pursuit and promotion of low-cost, unconventional films, many of which might never be seen in U.S. theaters if not for Miramax.

But their aggressive and often ruthless behavior contrasts sharply with the classy films with which the Miramax name is associated. Even in the rough and tumble world of independent film distribution, the carelessly attired Weinsteins stand out. “The boys,” as Harvey and Bob are commonly referred to--even though they are 41 and 38 respectively--have inspired comparisons to Hollywood’s most legendary tyrants.

While fans in the industry ranging from Madonna to Walt Disney Studios Chairman Jeffrey Katzenberg report good experiences, others the Weinsteins have done business with accuse the brothers of reneging on agreements and shortchanging them on payments.

Unlike most distributors of art house films, they have been known to pressure directors to make changes after test screenings. Miramax’s penchant for interference has given the elder brother the sobriquet of Harvey Scissorhands and has led to showdowns with such industry figures as director James Ivory and actor Liam Neeson.

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As bosses, they are sometimes compared to one of Hollywood’s most notorious bullies, Harry Cohn, who ran Columbia Pictures in the 1940s. Ex-Miramax employees say they labored excessively long hours under conditions of extreme tension marked by frequent screaming, yelling and tearful outbursts. One former secretary said she was fired every time her boss could not be located.

So bad was the atmosphere at Miramax, these former employees say, that many of them still gather to swap stories and lend moral support, calling themselves “Mir-Anon” in sardonic reference to the alcohol recovery program.

The Weinsteins insist they pay their bills and say they are involved in relatively few disputes, some stemming from filmmakers’ misunderstanding of what constitutes a firm deal. While acknowledging that they can be tough, demanding and temperamental, the Weinsteins say their recent success has allowed them to loosen up and treat employees better. They attribute most of the complaints to disgruntled young workers who were not up to the job.

“Let’s just face it. They weren’t good enough to work at Miramax,” Harvey Weinstein said, speaking in his office in a converted lower-Manhattan warehouse.

When it comes to business, one of the most heated disputes involves Kees Kasander. His Dutch production company, Allarts, contends it is owed at least $275,000 for 1990’s “The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover,” which grossed more than $7 million in the United States. Allarts is also suing Miramax in British court over $675,000 it claims it is owed for the 1991 “Prospero’s Books,” a second film by director Peter Greenaway.

Saying they have yet to receive a claim from Kasander for “The Cook, the Thief,” the Weinsteins maintain that he is not entitled to any more money, based on the film’s box office revenues. Kasander said he has been delayed in making the claim because he only recently received an auditor’s report. As for “Prospero’s Books,” the Weinsteins contend that Kasander delivered it late.

The brothers also have incurred the animosity of producers who say Miramax reneged on deals to distribute their movies, spoiling their chances elsewhere. Miramax got Randall Fried to make several changes in “Heaven Is a Playground,” a 1991 movie about inner-city basketball, and held two marketing research screenings before deciding not to release the film.

Although New Line Corp. wound up releasing “Heaven” on a limited basis, Fried believes that by abandoning his film, Miramax harmed its prospects. “After that my film was considered ‘damaged goods,’ ” he said.

Bob Weinstein said the deal never became final because about a dozen issues remained unresolved. “Negotiations and deals are two different things,” he said.

The Brothers

In an industry increasingly run by accountants and lawyers, the Weinsteins are a throwback to Hollywood’s more colorful past. Harvey, chain-smoking, quick-witted and often charming, prides himself on a deep knowledge of film history and is renowned for his marketing skills. Considered one of the most persevering negotiators in the movie business, the former rock concert promoter dressed up as a butcher in order to acquire the 1991 French movie, “Delicatessen.” During unsuccessful negotiations for the 1989 documentary “Roger and Me,” he sent producer Michael Moore’s representative a pair of skates with a note warning: “You’re skating on thin ice.”

Bob, slighter and more brusque than his brother, oversees distribution and runs Miramax’s new Dimension label, which produces low-budget mass-appeal movies such as “Hellraiser 3” and “Children of the Corn II.”

The Weinstein brothers say they became passionate about foreign films when they stumbled across Francois Truffaut’s “The 400 Blows” as teen-agers. If they are relentless in pushing their movies, they say, it is because they have battled for years to persuade reluctant exhibitors that there is an American audience for foreign-language and other specialized films.

Harvey Weinstein entered the entertainment business in 1972 when he and a friend from State University of New York at Buffalo kissed off their final exams to promote a Stephen Stills concert, using money from a pizza parlor owner and a friend’s wedding gifts. He and his partner later bought an aging theater to show offbeat films.

Formed in 1979 and named after the Weinsteins’ parents, Miriam and Max, Miramax started as a distributor of concert films, dabbling in production with an unsuccessful revenge movie about a camp custodian called “The Burning.” In 1982, Miramax had its first hit when the Weinsteins edited footage from two Monty Python concerts into “The Secret Policemen’s Other Ball.”

For years, Miramax remained “below mom-and-pop status,” according to Harvey, with never more than a dozen employees.

The Big Break

The company’s break came in 1988 when former partner British Midland Montague Bank invested $5 million and extended the firm a $25-million credit line. That gave Miramax the financial strength to invest $2 million in the British film “Scandal,” based on a true story about a government sex case of the 1960s. Then came the hugely successful “sex, lies and videotape” in 1989, followed the same year by “My Left Foot,” for which Daniel Day-Lewis won a best actor Oscar, and the Academy Award-winning foreign-language film “Cinema Paradiso.”

In each case the Weinsteins, lacking studio marketing budgets, parlayed controversial elements of their films into free publicity.

“Scandal” nearly created its own scandal until an orgy scene was trimmed to escape an X rating. Miramax also reaped a windfall of publicity during a court battle over the X-rating given the 1990 film “Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!” as it did when a preview for Madonna’s 1991 documentary, “Truth or Dare,” was deemed too risque.

It didn’t hurt “My Left Foot”--about an Irish artist afflicted with cerebral palsy--when Lewis testified before a congressional committee in support of the bill that became the Americans With Disabilities Act. “It is not as cold and calculating as it sounds because he helped to get the bill passed,” Harvey said.

Said former Paramount Pictures chief Brandon Tartikoff: “They are geniuses at getting the last ounce of juice from the marketing orange.”

But nothing has matched the mystique Miramax built around an androgynous plot twist in “The Crying Game.” Miramax lobbied journalists to keep the twist a secret, and built an advertising campaign that successfully enlisted movie-goers as co-conspirators.

The movie is expected to gross $50 million at the U.S. box office alone. “This is the ‘E.T.’ of limited audience pictures,” said A .D. Murphy, Variety box office analyst.

Industry experts estimate that Miramax’s “Crying Game” windfall will range from $5 million to $10 million, not counting future video profits. Conventional wisdom around Hollywood is that the film saved Miramax financially after a dry spell of lackluster films last year such as “Kafka,” “Delicatessen” and “Zentropa.” The Weinsteins vehemently dispute that, saying that Miramax’s preliminary results show the privately held company was in fact profitable last year, earning $4.7 million on about $75 million in revenue.

Although Harvey Weinstein’s promotional skills are justly admired, they are not unerring, as he admits. “Crying Game” director Neil Jordan’s previous movie, “The Miracle,” (1991) got good reviews but did little business. And the company “failed miserably” with “Close to Eden,” the Russian Oscar nominee in this year’s foreign-language category.

But while most observers credit them with excellent judgment in acquiring finished movies, they get poorer marks on their own production efforts. Their string of misses includes such forgettable films as “The Lemon Sisters” (1990), “Crossing the Line” (1991) and “Love Crimes” (1992).

“We made a lot of mistakes in the beginning,” Harvey said. “Production is not something Bob and I were born knowing how to do. We are still in the process of learning it. . . . What we’ve learned is, don’t go in with a script you’re not sure of.” But he said Miramax has high hopes for several new films, including the coming family film “Into the West.”

Their Style

As much as the Weinsteins admire the directors they deal with, “that doesn’t mean they have to be coddled,” Harvey said. “Occasionally, you have to say, ‘Excuse me, this is dull and boring.’ ” More than most distributors, they lean on directors to make changes, sometimes offering as many as 150 suggestions. The pressure has met with mixed reactions.

“Enchanted April” director Mike Newell said the cuts proposed by the Weinsteins--some of which he did not agree with--made the movie more accessible. Errol Morris said he agreed to shorten his 1988 documentary, “The Thin Blue Line,” by seven minutes “to the betterment of the movie.” And Harvey got Madonna to simplify the story line in “Truth or Dare,” according to the pop superstar.

“We butted heads a lot and got into lots of screaming matches in the editing room, but in the end I had a very pleasant experience with Miramax,” Madonna said. “(Harvey’s) got really good sensibilities. I don’t want to name names, but there are plenty of people you wouldn’t want to have a say in your movie.”

Prominent directors have not always been so grateful, even though accepting Harvey’s suggestions might have helped. Director Greenaway, who credits Miramax with doing “great things for me” in terms of marketing, nonetheless rebuffed Harvey’s “considerable pressure” to make “Prospero’s Books” simpler to understand. “I’m not going to fool around with Shakespeare’s text, even for Miramax,” he said.

First-time director Quentin Tarantino refused to excise any of the gruesome images in last year’s “Reservoir Dogs.” And director John Sayles stood his ground when Harvey got “down on my hands and knees” and begged him to cut at least 10 minutes from “Passion Fish.”

A dispute over penmanship after a marketing research screening of the 1990 film “Mr. and Mrs. Bridge” led to a contretemps with director James Ivory and producer Ismail Merchant. Unhappy with the evaluations from the screening, Ivory and Merchant criticized the audience’s penmanship, wondering if they were as educated as the Weinsteins claimed. This made Harvey angry. “ ‘Penmanship? I’ll give you penmanship,’ ” Ivory remembers him saying.

“This outraged Ismail, who then leapt up and said: ‘We’d rather buy (the film) back than have you distribute it.’ . . . Ismail then slammed out of the room with such force that a glass wall was somehow . . . damaged or cracked,” said Ivory, adding that he would never again deal with Miramax.

The Weinsteins, while acknowledging the incident, say no breakage occurred and produced friendly letters received afterward from Merchant and Ivory.

Harvey Weinstein also tangled with Day-Lewis after arriving 35 minutes late for his first meeting with the punctilious actor. Susan Slonaker, an associate producer on several Miramax movies, accompanied Harvey on the trip to London. “I thought those two guys were going to kill each other,” she said. Another source close to the movie said Day-Lewis balked at being asked to promote “My Left Foot.” The actor could not be reached.

Last fall, “Ethan Frome” star Liam Neeson stood up after a research screening of his film and publicly denounced it as being badly put together. Harvey Weinstein said he chewed out the actor for ruining the screening. “We were testing different things about ‘Ethan Frome’ for an audience,” he said. “Liam came 10 minutes late and missed the fact that it was a marketing research screening. We had a disagreement.”

The two reconciled almost immediately, Harvey said. “I love Liam Neeson,” he added. “This is a guy, he kisses me on the lips. I kiss him. Daniel, the same thing. . . . These are men who I have these arguments with out of passion.” Neeson, filming in Poland, was unavailable for comment.

Setting the Pace

By their own account, the Weinsteins battle more with each other than anyone else. “We are brothers who fought at the dinner table and fought on the ball field, and five minutes later, made up. . . . We are combustible, and two seconds later, I don’t even know that we fought,” Harvey said.

The fighting and frenetic pace--Harvey compared Miramax to a M.A.S.H. unit--has taken a considerable toll on the work force, resulting in a high turnover and numerous scenes.

Many of the 20 former employees interviewed said the Weinsteins were especially hard on women. Myrna Chagnard, 43, who quit Miramax this month after four years in the Los Angeles office, said Bob Weinstein routinely “fired” her whenever she was unable to locate her boss, distribution chief Marty Zeidman.

“They are very difficult people to work for,” she said.

Bob Weinstein said he was frustrated when Chagnard did not know Zeidman’s whereabouts. “I did not threaten this person, but I did let her know how important I felt it was (to be able to reach Zeidman).”

Their recent successes have given them a greater appreciation of their employees, the brothers contended. As evidence, they point out that several key executives have been with the company four years or more.

Miramax defenders attribute the company’s tough style to a need to survive in the independent film world.

“Crying Game” producer Stephen Woolley believes that an unfair Miramax backlash is emerging triggered by envy.

“They are not as conniving, or charming or clever in the ways of the world as the studio people are. The studios are slick and clever, and you never know if you have a knife in your back,” Woolley said.

Disney’s Katzenberg, who negotiated several deals with the Weinsteins, said he enjoys bargaining with them. “In my dealing with them--to be honest--they’ve been a pain in the butt. But a deal is a deal, and when they’ve made a deal with me they have been honorable to a fault,” Katzenberg said.

Miramax is under pressure to prove that “The Crying Game” was no fluke. The need for success grows as Miramax’s overhead climbs. The company employs about 80 people and is said to be spending about $8 million for the rights to “The House of the Spirits,” an international project starring Meryl Streep, Glenn Close and Jeremy Irons. Miramax also plans to develop its most expensive project ever, a $15-million film based on “A Wrinkle in Time,” Madeleine L’Engle’s popular children’s fantasy.

As the company expands, so will the demand for more capital--possibly through a public offering that would raise money but loosen some of the control the brothers enjoy.

Mindful that Hollywood is littered with the corpses of other once-hot independent companies whose ambitions exceeded their capabilities, the Weinsteins said Miramax will avoid the temptation of taking on still larger projects better left to other studios.

“I don’t think we would be as good as the majors are in doing what they do,” Bob Weinstein said. “It’s not humility, it’s the truth.”