Hollywood’s the Loser in the Basinger...

Since Wednesday, March 24, your paper has expended a great deal of energy toward interpreting the significance of the “Boxing Helena” verdict.

What a jury did or did not understand about the movie business seems important now. An appellate court may see that custom and practice in the film business has always been that little that is said between the fragile egos of Hollywood is for the record or to be taken seriously, and that there is a vitally important reason for that.

The plaintiff’s case was basically: “You said you loved me, so I hired a caterer.” The defendant’s case was: “I said I’d marry you (do the film) if you lose weight (change the script).” The plaintiff convinced a jury of the defendant’s “peers” that if he had hired a caterer, she must have agreed to marry him. ((Producer Carl) Mazzocone, all the while, is hopping around the AFM (American Film Market) shouting, “I’ve got a film! I’ve got a film! Hey, over here! I’m a player!”)

Talking to the jurors after the case, they seem to have taken this show business “happy-speak” seriously (a language in which a mandatory 50%-65% of the spoken word must contain either “love,” “great” or “brilliant”). After awarding the unconscionable damages, they seemed genuinely puzzled by Basinger’s net worth. The “have-nots” thought they had a real live “have” on their hands. They thought they had handed down a bill that surely she could pay. I guess they felt everyone who did “Batman” got $40 million.

Some have put a spin on this that it is, in some way, a victory for studios, producers or independent filmmakers. This verdict is not a victory for anyone in this business, a business where the climate of deceit and distrust, self-serving and self-seeking is high enough already. No need to add the loss of civility to the mix. Now simple expressions of good faith and courtesy (“I loved the script!”; “Of course I’d like to do it”) will necessarily be replaced with a level of caution and calculation few artists are trained in.

No one wants to walk into a meeting watching every word they say. Custom and practice in this business has always been for the creative principals to assemble and kiss each other’s ass, while agents and lawyers hammer out agreements. No one walks into a meeting and says, “I don’t trust you,” “I don’t believe you are going to do what we’ve discussed creatively,” “I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to pull off this movie.” No one says these things. No one.

Everyone, on the other hand, says, “Of course I’m in” or “I’d love to do this project.” That’s because creative endeavors are like children. You don’t walk into a meeting and tell any big-time director they have ugly children. You don’t tell any producer or writer or director anything less than: “Oh my, your children are beautiful.” But you do register your concerns. As was done quite clearly in this case.

And no matter what is said between actors and directors in creative dialogues, sensitivity and good will does not a deal make, as I am certain the appeal of this case will show.

But, for now, forget about the way things used to be. How people assembled with good will, but implicit in their language was a clear provision. The statement, “I love this movie and want to do it . . . ,” always had an unspoken “. . . if we can agree on material terms and conditions” attached to it. That’s gone now.

Whatever you do, don’t take a meeting at a director’s house. If you must, don’t compliment him on it. A jury might rule that the compliment was an escrow agreement.