In Hollywood, a Small, Soft Script Dies Hard

Joe still doesn’t seem quite sure he wants to share this story. It’s a true tale of Hollywood, and the first time I told him it deserved a wider audience, he hemmed and hawed and checked with his agent. “Are you nuts?!?” she reportedly responded. Joe, understand, had just made his first big score, and his agent worried that the studios might not be happy.

But the other day, Joe relented--to a point. He was calling from his new home up the coast, a handsome place with an ocean view bought with money from that big score. Joe was understandably feeling pretty good about himself, and I seized the opportunity.

Come on, Joe, let me tell everybody a little bit about how Hollywood works. Not long ago, Bob Dole made front-page headlines complaining about the industry’s “nightmares of depravity.” President Clinton agrees that there’s too much violence, not enough family values. So come on, Joe, let me tell the story about how a sweet, little script called “The Old Man and the Schwinn” became the action-packed suspense thriller “Nuke the White House!”

These aren’t the actual titles, and Joe isn’t his real name. Joe’s a close friend and I want to keep it that way. So I promised not to go into too much detail--just enough to convey the essence.

*

Joe wasn’t always a screenwriter. He used to be an investigative reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper, the kind of writer whose work was often nominated for big prizes. But for all his success in the news racket, Joe wanted out. As long as I’ve known him--almost 14 years--he’s wanted to write for the movies.

Joe’s education as a screenwriter came by trial and error. Years ago, he and his wife plotted out a comedy set in a health club. Then Joe collaborated on a suspense thriller with a former Navy SEAL. Then he wrote a historical drama about an American Indian.

Gradually, he learned his new craft. A few years ago, Joe made his first modest profit when a producer optioned a police drama. Later, a rising young director showed interest in another police thriller. Joe networked. He did lunch. He became confident enough to quit his day job and devote himself full time to Hollywood.

One night he found himself reading a bedtime story to his kids, Bobby and Rachel. The story was about an old man who rode around town on a creaky bicycle. The old man enters a race and . . . well, let’s not give away the ending. Let’s just say it’s a heartwarming, triumph-of-the-spirit sort of tale.

Joe could see Walter Matthau in the role. Tired of writing police shoot-’em-ups, he wanted to write a movie he’d happily take Bobby and Rachel to see. So Joe contacted the publisher and paid a small sum to option the story in hopes of making it into a movie.

Joe embellished the story, and when he finished the script, he felt a sense of pride he’d never felt before. In his heart of hearts, he knew that “The Old Man and the Schwinn” was better than good and that it would be a fine movie.

His agent shopped it around and Joe heard nothing but praise. What a lovely story. What a wonderful script.

But.

“They all said, ‘We love it. But it’s too small, it’s too soft,’ ” Joe recalls. And so “The Old Man and the Schwinn” is still floating around, unsold.

Too small. Too soft. Joe stewed for a while. And then he decided to channel his frustration into another script.

“I thought, ‘Fine, if that was too small and too soft, I’ll give them the biggest, hardest script they’ve ever seen.’ ”

No, Joe didn’t sit down and write “Independence Day.” Science fiction is one genre he hasn’t tried. “Nuke the White House!” is a suspense thriller that has no shortage of explosions.

Alas, Joe didn’t want me to describe the plot. “Just describe it as big, hard and highly implausible,” he said. “As are most successful action movies.”

It might be a stretch to say that “Nuke the White House!” triggered a bidding war, but two major studios made big offers. When Daily Variety reported the sale, the price was described as “low six figures against mid six figures.” Suffice to say that Joe made a lot more than $100,000 upfront, and he’ll make a lot more if the film ever gets made. The project is on hold, but the good news is that one of the hottest directors of the ‘90s is involved.

Joe isn’t holding his breath. He’s too busy with other projects, such as a TV movie and a couple of “Rambo”-esque projects. One is in what Joe calls “pre-pre-production.” Another has gotten an enthusiastic response because, as Joe puts it, “it’s so over the top.”

Joe now worries that he might be typecast. Nothing he’s written has yet to hit the screen, but he’s already earned a reputation for writing action.

“I’m not complaining,” Joe said by phone. Moments later, he described the sailboats passing by on the Pacific. An action film, he says, won’t be confused for Tolstoy, and it may not deliver an important message. “It’s two hours of escapism,” Joe confessed. From box-office reports, it’s obvious that there’s a huge market for that kind of thing.

“Just don’t make it sound like I’m biting the hand that feeds me,” Joe cautioned.

No problema, as Arnold might say. Nope, my friend Joe isn’t complaining. For all the hand-wringing about Hollywood product--concerns that Joe, as a father, shares--he understands that it’s a business. If the choice is between being known as a writer of soft, small scripts that don’t sell and big, hard scripts that do, it’s a pretty easy call. Family values? One reason Joe made the move north was the hope of finding better schools for his kids.

And who knows? Maybe someday a studio will take a chance on “The Old Man and the Schwinn,” or perhaps another of Joe’s small, soft scripts. It’s a love story set in the milieu of modern farming.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth, Calif. 91311. Please include a phone number.

If the choice is between being known as a writer of soft, small scripts that don’t sell and big, hard scripts that do, it’s a pretty easy call.