‘We Still Aren’t Permitted to Fail Upward’

Lynda Obst sits cross-legged on a wicker chair in her eclectically furnished office in the far reaches of the 20th Century Fox lot. Though the past two years have been “hell,” says the producer, 46, it feels like “heaven” these days.

“Contact,” Robert Zemeckis’ sci-fi thriller starring Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey, will start shooting in October--17 years after she first pitched the Carl Sagan book to her then-boss Peter Guber. And on Dec. 20, “One Fine Day,” a modern-day battle of the sexes with Michelle Pfeiffer and George Clooney, will hit the screen.

That project helped dull the pain of “Crisis in the Hot Zone,” a viral-outbreak tale whose demise just before production propelled Obst into the doldrums. “Hello, He Lied: And Other Truths From the Hollywood Trenches,” Obst’s primer on surviving the industry’s ups and downs, provided another boost. Selling best in Brentwood, Westwood and West Hollywood, it made its debut Sunday at the top of The Times’ Southland bestseller list.

In it, the former New York Times journalist recounts her 16 years in show business, from working with David Geffen (“Lynda, if you got collagen shots you could be really attractive,” she quotes the mogul remarking when asked his opinion of a David Mamet screenplay) to her observations on Hollywood’s social scene. (“Marry young,” she advises her female colleagues. “The guys who were formerly fat high school rejects you would never have considered dating are suddenly attractive to cover girls.”)

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Question: Those familiar with your shoot-from-the-hip demeanor will be surprised to find how civil this book is compared to other “insider” accounts.

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Answer: The main criticism of this book is that it doesn’t have enough “dish”--but, then, I wanted to take the high road. Hollywood books are generally written by reporters or by insiders living a scorched-earth policy: Their careers are pretty well spent and they’re willing to burn bridges. This one is written by someone who expects to be going to work every day. I lost perspective when “Hot Zone” fell through. . . . Who knew from Bosnia when Robert Redford dropped out? But I no longer feel mean-spirited about the rival producer who went ahead with his project [“Outbreak”] without the rights. He was just playing the role God assigned him.

Q: What is the most common misconception about Hollywood?

A: One of the things that New Yorkers get wrong is how dumb we are and how easy it is. They love to denigrate movie stars and people behind the camera as folks chomping on cigars, driving Corniches, playing tennis, cell phone in hand. Some of us do, of course--but I’ve never seen a more fanatically committed group of working people. What we do is truly Sisyphean. The fear factor is greatest just before you get the boulder to the tippy top of the hill and it still has a chance to roll back and crush you. It’s a law of physics: Going up is harder than going down. Making movies is not nearly as hard as putting them together.

Q: Knowing what you know now, would you have done things differently?

A: I’d have chosen to be on the talent side--a writer-director. I’ve always had a bifurcation between art and power: wanting to cultivate a voice and get things done as well. Though Steven Spielberg’s power grew out of his talent as an artist, most people have to choose. My need for power is satiated now, but my need for a voice is not. This book represents that other fork in the road.

Q: Do you plan to direct?

A: Yes. This is a director’s medium, after all. I want to make my own mistakes, reach for the internal brass ring instead of the external one. “Friends for Life”--a story about girlfriends--was originally developed for Nora Ephron, who gave it to Rosie O’Donnell, who gave it to me when her talk show took off. I’m also having “Tornado Jam,” a West Texas “Flashdance,” written for me.

Q: After producing “The Fisher King,” you collaborated with Ephron on “This Is My Life” and “Sleepless in Seattle.”

A: I always tell anyone producing Nora to get the best caterers and to forget any location that doesn’t have a first-rate Italian restaurant. Location scouting with Nora is a great mix of “shopping opps” and “eating opps.” And since she reads six newspapers before work, the caliber of conversation on her sets is very high. Tom Hanks said he felt unprepared for work unless he’d read three.

Q: Does the star system, with its $20-million salaries, make movie-making untenable?

A: In a funny way, the stars are our allies. As mainstream producers, we need them to make small bull’s-eyes larger to justify a studio laying out the money needed to market movies less likely to “hit.” The stars, for their part, care about the quality of films since it’s their face on the screen. In a blockbuster business, they want to be up for Oscars and judged by their body of work. The ugliest part of the business is that an actor is defined by his box-office grosses--whether he or she “opened” a picture for $17 million--rather than by the performance.

Q: You say that the glass ceiling for women is gone--except at the highest level of corporate management.

A: There are probably four times as many women in the business now as when I first started. Women focused on “words” and anything having to do with equipment or money was alien turf. As the first generation, the immigrants, we had a lack of supporting culture and were grateful for a chance to play. When Dawn Steel told me that she wanted to be a studio chief, I thought she was beyond brave. She knew instinctively that permission wouldn’t be granted--that power must be seized. Younger women have seen us survive so they’re less afraid of annihilation. Still, our salaries continue to lag behind . . . and, unlike men, we still aren’t permitted to fail upward.

Q: As a producer, what’s your secret for long-term survival?

A: Letting go. It’s ironic being attracted to a job because you’re a control freak only to find that you have no control whatsoever. Only the studio and the director do. Producers are more about management or, as someone once put it, we’re “personality wranglers.” Some solve this dilemma by hiring lesser talent and pulling the strings. But that doesn’t make for art.

Q: Did you ever question your career choice?

A: I have two overriding feelings: One, I feel really lucky to have earned my place at the table and want to keep taking whacks; and, two, there’s got to be something more. . . . We all need something--in my case, my 18-year-old son Oly, a book, whatever--that the wrecking ball can’t destroy. Every woman I know is planning her escape route. Maybe getting out is an illusion, though--driving to the end of town and making U-turns, like the end of “The Last Picture Show.”