The purpose of producing iSpy was to determine what it would cost to make an indie feature with 'iSpy' production values. Newsflash: a lot. There's no such thing a zero budget film that doesn't look like a zero-budget film. Don't kid yourself. So these four minutes of video acted as a film school for this newbie producer.
So my next plan was to look through my arsenal of completed screenplays. A baker's dozen of screenplays I've spent the last two decades editing and placing in notable screenplay contests. What did I gravitate towards? You guessed it -- my zero budget screenplay. Ahem.
As a freelance writer I believed the screenplay was in good shape. As a producer -- the person finding money for the project, I began to realize it... well... wasn't ready for prime time. Put your money where your mouth is turns out to be an excellent aid in editing a final draft. For months and months and months I've been editing this one silly script.
It's an insane satirical rom-com. If you've ever seen Burt Reynolds and Dom Deluise in THE END, it's like I take that movie and throw it in a blender with ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, BEING JOHN MALKOVITCH, and THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW. Making that comprehensible yet approachable hasn't been easy.
I was dreaming I was a teen in the 70s. Watching a weary TV with a broken nob and poor reception. I'm watching a fuzzy color British sitcom, where a stuffy upper class British couple discuss their son's first year at Oxford. The wife would asks her husband how the son is doing, and without looking up from his paper he says, "Very well, my dear, very well. It seems the young ladies have discovered 'The Popular'." And the audience ROARS. In my dream.
I laugh too. Because without being told I understand that 'the popular' was a euphemism. It struck me as hilarious to hear this stuffy couple nonchalantly discussing their son's penis over the paper and afternoon tea. So hilarious I kept the gag going in the following dreams -- because I didn't wish to awake smiling but not remember why.
When I awoke -- smiling like an idiot -- the phrase was waiting for me in my head. I dropped it in Google to determine which British sitcom I was recalling... only to learn I had literally dreamed up the term. This made me smile even more.
For a few days I abused my wife with the term. Eventually she started laughing with me. I tried it out on Facebook by telling this exact story. A few unfriended me, I got two calls from the authorities, but many were amused.
So there I was with this absolutely SILLY term I adored but had no way to introduce to the masses.
This was the exact moment I got a call from my Mom. Who has been behind me every step of this journey. Sometimes way in front of me, when she advised I ditch my a major university for an arts school.
Anyway, my Mom called because her lifelong best friend, my Aunt Maureen, read something in the Boston Globe about an interesting young lady named Ellen Soderberg.
A talented and lovely actress from the Boston area,
Ellen had moved to Los Angeles. Why? The same reason the rest of us moved. We pretend it's to get discovered... but really... it's weather thing.
Anyway -- because Ellen hasn't been out here as long as I have -- she isn't bitter. God Bless her.
What this means is that she has a delightfully non-West Coastian all for one, one for all approach to Los Angeles.
How refreshing, Ellen. How refreshing.
You're not what I call a typical 'me' person out here. You're an 'us' person. You rule.
So Ellen sent out an internet iCall for Boston writers, directors, and actors who now live here. You didn't have to be born in Boston but only claim to have been in Boston during some formative years. There was no quiz or old license plates required. And incarceration counted, which turned out lucky for me. But seriously --
-- although I was in a minority of Boston born and raiser types, everyone involved had a Boston story to tell. In a thick Boston brogue if need be. There was also a Wyoming thing going on -- a top secret subgroup -- but they still knew a cruller from a Sam Adams and so all was good.
Anyhow, believe it or not, this is how THE POPULAR went from dream to reality. Two words: Ellen Soderberg.
Five pages on inappropriate madness. Something I had to whip out (don't go there) in very few days due to a plumbing situation. A personal plumbing situation (I said don't go there) in my condo.
The piece turned out looking a little something like this --
I feel they both did a terrific job.
And so if you ever hear this term in a real world conversation, it started here. Professional interests aside, I hope 'The Popular' becomes popular. Try it... go ahead... the next time you want to talk about the popular without anyone beside you in Chipolte realizing you're talking about the popular. It's fun.
Anyway, Ellen's three night Boston group hug was definitely a success. The other ten pieces and twenty two performers were truly great. Bostonians temporary and of birthright brought a great deal of East Coast to the Southland. There was one dog in the show, but I mean that literally: a dog. (So cute!)
I was speaking with one of the night's talented actresses. She acted, wrote, and directed a piece entitled The Birthday Dinner. I asked her which skill she was going for professionally -- and without hesitation she said she wanted to be on SNL. I absolutely appreciate the sentiment, I do, but I've been here so long that a certain 'screw that' sentiment hit me.
We are here, people. Los Angeles could have it's own SNL. And not a duplicate like the Fridays show (yes I'm THAT old and was a fan during said teen years). I'm saying Los Angeles types should do shows like this. Our way, baby.
All for one, one for all.
Ellen has shown us the way. Now it's time to kick some West Coast ass people.
Love and kisses,
P.S. Please like my FACEBOOK page so that you'll know when my insane comedy goes into production. A reading is coming up shortly and may I need some of you.