If You Recall ‘Chinatown,’ Consider Grecian Formula

When I sold my first option on a screenplay, at the ripe old age of 36, I got a congratulatory note from an older acquaintance whose career as a Hollywood scriptwriter had faded with the color of his hair. Among his tips for continued success was this: Get yourself a bottle of Grecian Formula.

Flash forward a decade and two options later. I’m lunching with an agent to whom I’d recently submitted a fresh screenplay, seeking new representation. He’d responded enthusiastically on the phone, but now something strange is happening. The agent seems to be studying my face for age lines while asking me questions that seem designed to ferret out the year of my birth.

“So you graduated from college with a journalism degree? When was that, exactly?”

“Mmm . . . five years after I graduated high school.”

“What year was that?”

“When I was 17.”

“The Eagles were the hot band my senior year. You have a favorite band in high school?”

I feel the first bead of sweat trickle down my temple. “To be honest, I was a jazz nut. Miles, Coltrane, the ageless stuff.”

And on and on like that, grilling me like I’m a chicken breast back in the kitchen, being prepared for an overpriced Caesar salad. I never heard from him again, but at least he picked up the check.

Why should age matter so much for Hollywood film writers (and even more for TV series scribes)? Mature folks trying to break into the business ask me this all the time. I run through a litany of reasons, trying to drill some sense into them before they waste more money on Robert McKee workshops or Final Draft software. I mention the obvious: that movies skew more and more to a younger audience, and many producers and studio executives look for youthful writers tuned into what’s hip and happening; that many development executives in their 20s and 30s--which is a lot of them--are uncomfortable working with writers who remind them of their parents; that older writers sometimes use memorable films as reference points, leaving many younger execs baffled and uneasy. To many younger execs, I point out, 1998’s “There’s Something About Mary” is a classic--not “Chinatown,” and certainly not “Citizen Kane.”

Mike Farrell, the actor-producer, once told me he had prepared a list of potential writers for a movie he was developing, putting the name of the most seasoned at the top. “Too old,” said the network suit, and crossed out the name. “Next.”

Aspiring screenwriters of a certain age often scoff at the notion that they’re too old for the game, certain that their brilliant movie concept will trump Hollywood’s notorious history of ageism. So I ask them to name one screenwriter who sold a first screenplay after the age of 50 and went on to sustain a viable career. The silence is deafening. I once interviewed screenwriter Walter Newman, who’d been nominated for an Oscar for “Ace in the Hole,” which Billy Wilder had directed. A shy but gracious man, Newman was forthright in answering all my questions--until I naively asked his age. He practically begged me to keep it out of my article.

“You have to understand,” he said, “it’s difficult getting work in this business after your hair turns gray.”

I guess he’d never heard of Grecian Formula.