The Hollywood Exodus : Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda, I Am Here at Camp Kahala; the Faxes They Keep Sending; at Poolside, I Have a Deal Pending

On the face of it, the ad that ran in Variety on Tuesday was barely distinguishable from others promoting year-end academy screenings. Except for the fact that Robert Altman’s “Ready to Wear” was being shown at the Wheeler Opera House in Aspen, Colo.

To those who opted to stay in Hollywood during the sluggish Christmas-New Year’s period, the strategy made perfect sense. The town had cleared out. The film industry was on hold. More business was being conducted around the pool in Maui or on the slopes of Colorado than on the inordinately quiet studio lots.

“This place is like a ghost town,” observes Paramount’s Sherry Lansing, the only studio chief other than United Artists’ John Calley who went to work last week. “Just a handful of people are here. But there’s something very soothing about carrying on a conversation without 20 phone calls interrupting you, having lunches that aren’t squeezed between meetings, being able to walk around and think . It’s Los Angeles without the intensity--like leading a normal life.”

While many of the high-powered folks took to the air, some die-hards and support staffs kept things grounded at home. An assistant to a powerful Hollywood talent agent fielded only three phone calls on Wednesday--two of them requests for interviews. Suits and ties were a rarity. It was a much-needed stretch of “catch-up” in contrast to the usual “crisis” mode.

“The week was about housekeeping--going over the books, reading, collecting money before year’s end,” says Ron Mardigian, head of the motion picture literary department at the William Morris agency. “Activity was limited since the major decision-makers were gone.”

The ripples extended beyond the studio gates and agencies to the town’s more popular power-lunch spots. “Since Christmas Eve, you can have your pick of tables here,” says Adelmo Zarif, manager of West Hollywood’s Cicada, whose clientele is 90% entertainment industry-related. “Everyone headed for Maui and Aspen. They talk to someone on the mountain, they have lunch when they get back. . . . Business? Social? This is Hollywood. Who draws lines?”

One industry wag called Hawaii “Cicada on the Beach”--a place where deals are cut and contacts made. If Oahu’s Kahala Hilton (or “Camp Kahala,” as it was dubbed by former studio chief Jeffrey Katzenberg) was the Team Disney playground in years past, Maui’s Grand Wailea lured many away in Christmas present. Nearby, ICM president Jim Wiatt was part of the film crowd unwinding at the Kea Lani. And, while Sony’s Jeff Sagansky, producer Brian Grazer and Columbia’s Barry Josephson were sunning in the Caribbean, the ski crowd--including producer Jerry Bruckheimer and entertainment lawyer Jake Bloom--slalomed alongside the Arnold Schwarzeneggers and Clint Eastwood in Sun Valley, Ida.

“Business is best done where people are most comfortable,” one industry observer says. “That’s why it’s important to go to film festivals like Sundance and Cannes. The pool at the Kahala is the equivalent of the old Polo Lounge. In show business, unlike most others, no one ever leaves the job. It’s in the blood--a 24-hour investment.”

Even so, producer Mark Johnson (“Quiz Show”) is not alone in wondering why Hollywood’s power players choose to escape from the rat-race by surrounding themselves with faces they see everyday.

“People are so insecure that they can never truly take a vacation,” observes Johnson, who took in a host of movies during the relative down time. “In an industry in which lunch break is not a ‘break’ but another opportunity to work, I guess it’s not surprising that people choose to relax around people who can help them. Still, I find it a little pathetic.”

Though physically absent, the players were plugged into the game. Many came with computer sheets of numbers where vacationing colleagues could be reached, lugging a suitcase full of scripts and calling in for messages between massages.

Jeff Blake, president of distribution for Sony’s Columbia and TriStar, was one of the few executives on overdrive last week. Distributors and exhibitors need to be present during the busy and lucrative holiday season, he explained. And with three Sony movies--”Legends of the Fall,” “Little Women” and “Mixed Nuts”--opening, he served as the central clearing house for box-office grosses. “I talked to every one of our executives two or three times a day--starting at 7:30 or 8 a.m. and ending 15 or 16 hours later,” Blake recalls. “At 11 p.m., I was calling Hawaii--which is two hours earlier--and faxing the Caribbean so people could wake up to the numbers. I even faxed a ship at sea.” Ed Russell, Columbia and TriStar’s senior vice president of publicity, had a taste of the exotic, without ever leaving his desk. “I learned the area codes for all sorts of intriguing places--from Barbados to Puerto Rico to Australia,” he says. By all accounts, the annual exodus was a healthy decompression: a welcome respite from business-as-usual for vacationers and stay-at-homes alike.

“Tomorrow will be like a reunion--the family coming back,” says Tom Sherak, executive vice president of 20th Century Fox. “One will have lost his luggage, another discovered an island--he’s not telling us where . . . there are 9 million stories in the Naked City. And everyone, of course, will be more mellow--while they’re getting ready to kill someone.”

Dennis Considine, head of development for Lou Gossett Jr.’s Logo Entertainment, agrees. “The week was a time of resting up, catharsis, before ‘it’ happens again,” he says. “On Tuesday, it’s going to be pedal to metal. Full speed. Flat-out.”