Regarding the Kevin Clash matter, someone who may not want me to quote them by name (so I won't) writes to ask…
Aside from my disgust at people who glory in the tragic events in life, I have to ask, why would a person behave in such a fashion when they are wealthy, or powerful or influential knowing that the person they are with is almost certain to tell people the dark and sordid details?
Well, I suspect there are some — certainly a minority — who almost want to get caught and punished…or who want it enough that they don't care if they do. I'm often reminded of that Twilight Zone episode where David Wayne plays a man who cannot die and he becomes obsessive with putting that to the test. There are folks in this world who "get away" with something they know they shouldn't have gotten away with, then start seeing how much they can push that.
In what is probably a slightly healthier vein, a lot of wealthy/powerful/famous people see others around them getting away with errant behavior and perhaps they themselves get away with it a few times. And what results is a kind of "the rules don't apply to me" sensibility. They start to feel not only lucky but somehow magically protected in that way…like a gambler who's winning and starts madly upping his wagers.
I do not know Kevin Clash beyond that brief handshake I described and what's going on with him is surely more complex and unknown to us than the brief things we glean from press reports. Most of it is also none of our business. But it would not surprise me if he "got away" for a long time with what he is now in trouble for doing, and knew others who had done even worse without getting caught.
No, not everyone tells the dark and sordid details. I casually know an actress who had (past-tense) a very long, very steamy affair with a very famous (and married) male star. She never went public with it. She never asked him for money or, she says, for anything. The guy "got away" with it. Would we be shocked if he did it again? And again and again?
By the way: I did not mean to suggest, as some correspondents have inferred, that it's impossible for anyone else to replicate the voice and performance of Elmo. I assume there are already plenty of folks working for the relevant company who can and do. Mr. Clash could not have made all the personal appearances required of the highly-lucrative property known as Elmo. If and when they want someone else to be Elmo on Sesame Street, they'll presumably promote from within.
The question is whether Elmo is in any way despoiled by this. It was announced a few months ago that they were cutting back on the character's presence on Sesame Street. Maybe someone saw this scandal coming or maybe there were other reasons. They have thousands of hours taped of Clash as Elmo and I assume they'll rerun that material and at some point, fold in new material with the replacement. But they also may decide to downplay Elmo for a time. No one knows yet quite how this whole thing will play out.
Last night, the Beverly Cinema here in L.A. had a one-time-only screening of the 1968 movie, The Comic, directed by Carl Reiner and starring Dick Van Dyke and Michele Lee, with Mr. Reiner in a supporting role. All three of them were in attendance before a sell-out crowd.
What follows here are two reviews — one of the movie itself and one of the way in which the theater handled the evening and treated its distinguished guests and their work.
The Movie: I really like this movie, especially the first half. The script by Aaron Ruben and Mr. Reiner tells the story of Billy Bright, a silent comedian whose career embraces many of the tragic elements of comedy stars of his era…but maybe not. There are moments that remind one of events in the lives of Buster Keaton, Stan Laurel, Harry Langdon and some others but it's really a story not about Hollywood but of a man who screws his life up by being almost criminally self-obsessed. The gent last night who interviewed the stars said it was a stark, unforgiving portrait of the movie business…and I don't see it that way. I think it's a stark, unforgiving portrait of this a-hole that Dick Van Dyke played…and played so well.
The parts of it about the silent film biz are very funny and very entertaining…and maybe that's why I like the first half — in which Billy is making movies — more than I like the second half, in which his marriage and career collapse and he pretty much ousts himself from the movie business. And I think but am not absolutely sure I like this about the film: It is not a story about a man who is rotten and uncaring about others but we come to understand his basic humanity and to see the nice guy underneath that crusty exterior. It's the story of a man who is rotten and uncaring and where that takes him. Period.
Mr. Van Dyke is awfully good in it and the scenes we see of Billy Bright's silent comedies are wonderful. He's hilarious in them…hilarious the way Keaton and Laurel and Hardy and the best of their generation were hilarious. The man not only moves funny, he poses funny when he's not moving. Michele Lee is utterly charming as his leading lady and wife. She has such expressive eyes that she instantly makes you understand the inner feelings of a woman trapped with that horrible, unfaithful man as her spouse. And Mickey Rooney deserves special mention for his role as Cockeye, a character who played important supporting roles in Billy Bright's movies and an even more important one in Billy Bright's life. So I enjoyed all of that. Which brings us to the part of the evening I didn't enjoy…
The interviewer, Dick Van Dyke, Carl Reiner and Michele Lee Photo by Jeanine Kasun
The Theater: I know some people hail the Beverly Cinema for preserving the bygone days of moviegoing by showing old, sometimes overlooked films and only running 35mm prints, no digital. Hailing the overlooked is commendable. Insisting on 35mm sounds better than it plays, in part because there are not a lot of pristine, high-quality 35mm prints around of neglected movies. Also, the curtainless screen at the Beverly Cinema is not that large. When we talk of seeing movies on "the big screen," this is not what we have in mind. A friend of mine goes there often in spite of the projection and the general grubbiness of the place. He likes seeing movies with an enthusiastic audience and that, they usually have. But as he says (and I agree), a digitally-restored copy projected via digital means might serve many of these films better than the 35mm copies that are available.
But that's not my big complaint. I didn't see that Carl Reiner, Dick Van Dyke and Michele Lee (giants, all) were treated very well.
When people of that stature show up for free, they do the theater an enormous favor. The screening was sold-out with a waitlist and of course, the prestige of having them there enhances the standing and reputation of the business. It appeared someone spent all of about thirty seconds figuring out how to welcome their guests, where to seat them, how to make them feel welcome and comfortable, etc. There was no crowd control so they were mobbed, mostly by autograph seekers.
I understand the desire of fans to get something signed by a celebrity they admire but there is a pushiness about some that always makes me cringe, especially when they bring piles of photos, thrust a metallic-ink Sharpie at the celeb and demand signatures aplenty. I mentioned to someone that the organizers of the appearance should have done something to protect their guests from that and I was told that at least one of the pushier autograph-demanders was an organizer of the event. I also heard there that the theater had not offered transportation, nor does the theater have any sort of green room or comfy waiting area for them. Mr. Van Dyke and his lovely new bride were stashed away for a time in a corner of the projection booth.
Later, they joined Mr. Reiner in the house where, of course, they were crowded and made to sign things. The Beverly Cinema's aged stage is not lit for this kind of event and there's an antique, unsafe-looking set of stairs to get up there. A lot of us worried as Carl Reiner (age 90) and Dick Van Dyke (spry but still not much younger) climbed up to sit in old, ugly folding chairs, then later climbed down.
They were introduced by a British gentleman who I gather has a smidgen of local celebrity and show biz background. At least, he seemed to assume that everyone knew who he was. He introduced Reiner as a legendary writer-producer-director-actor, which was fine. Then he introduced Van Dyke, who is not a writer or director, as a legendary writer-producer-director-actor, which made you wonder if he really knew who Dick Van Dyke was. And then — and I am not making this up; I have witnesses — he introduced Michele Lee by saying, "Well, she's not really legendary…" The audience booed him as well they should. Fortunately, he turned the Q-and-A over to a decent interviewer and I apologize that I did not get his name.
Of course, the interview should have come after the movie but it was already clear that not a lot of thought had gone into this event. A show of hands revealed that the vast majority of those present had never seen the film so when Carl, Dick and Michele discussed it, they couldn't talk freely about it for fear of ruining it for most of those in the audience. Also of course, if it had been done after, their memories of the film would have been refreshed and they would have had more to say about it.
Dick Van Dyke and his wife left well before the movie was over, which isa shame. The only benefit of the evening to them would have been to sit and hear a new audience howl with glee at the film and applaud the stellar performances. But if I'd been them, I would have gotten the hell out of there at the first opportunity, too.
After, folks milled about on the sidewalk outside, including the British guy who was trolling for people to compliment him on the wonderful event he had arranged. He seemed pretty clueless that the stars of the film and the evening hadn't had a peachy time.
I wish I could say this kind of thing was a rare exception but I have been to too many like this, including at least one other elsewhere with Mssrs. Reiner and Van Dyke. The folks who know how to operate a repertory cinema or other such venue often haven't the slightest idea of how to stage a live event. And even when they do a lot of them, they never learn, never remodel as necessary to make such appearances go smoothly. They seem to think that getting the celeb to agree to show up is all it's about. One often hears tales of stars who agree in a casual conversation to appear and assume there'll soon be a follow-up contact to confirm dates, transportation, their guests, etc. The next thing they know, they're advertised…and then they feel they have to show up — no matter how inconvenient the date may be for them — because their fans have bought tickets, will be disappointed if the person isn't there, and may not think to blame the theater.
Quentin Tarantino is reportedly the landlord of the Beverly Cinema. He is of course a major talent in motion pictures and a man whose respect for his fellow artists is well known. Mr. Tarantino was not present last night and if he had been, I have the feeling that he would have stepped in and corrected as much as could have been corrected. I further have the feeling that if he's ever treated like that at one of many evenings to come honoring his work, he will not suffer in polite silence the way Carl Reiner, Dick Van Dyke and Michele Lee did.
You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
You must put the work on the market.
You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.
He was coming from the perspective of one who wrote and sold fiction to magazines, so the rules may not be quite so applicable to script writers or joke writers. But note Rule 2: "You must finish what you write."
So the answer to your question, "If you spend six hours writing something and you're halfway through and it ain't going in a good direction, why spend another six hours completing it?" can be found by placing Rule 2 in the context of the other four rules. You have to finish it because you can't sell it otherwise. An artistically unsatisfying work that is complete may sell to some editor somewhere. But a half-finished piece won't sell anywhere.
I feel odd just typing the words, "I disagree with Robert Heinlein" but I disagree with Robert Heinlein…a little. And I don't think the differences are due to him writing for different markets.
Yes, you must write. Yes, you must finish things but you don't have to finish everything you start. I seriously doubt Mr. Heinlein ever wrote the first few paragraphs of a story, realized it wasn't going anywhere but thought, "Rats! My premise isn't very sound but since I started this thing, I have to finish it." Even a man as clever as Robert Heinlein was has some ideas that are better than others and there's no shame in pitching the weaker ones.
So I agree with #1 and I think #2 should read, "You must produce a decent amount of finished, ready-to-sell material" or words to that effect.
In #3, I suspect what he meant is that you shouldn't keep polishing and rewriting and doing Draft #93 to stall the moment at which you send a piece of writing into the world for acceptance or rejection. Certainly, he didn't mean that if you write something and decide the middle is weak, you shouldn't go back and rewrite it. (As I recall, when Harlan Ellison quotes these rules, he appends to #3 something like, "…assuming you think the editorial order isn't stupid." I'm with Harlan on that.)
I'm not sure I agree with #4 or #5, which are pretty much the same rule. I have a screenplay that I wrote years ago that I liked at the time. I was alone in this opinion. No one else who read it thought much of it, not even my agent who was my agent because he liked most everything I did. At my insistence, he submitted it to a number of producers and I gave it to a few. Not only did no one leap to buy it but I came to the conclusion that it was lowering their opinions of me as a writer. That is never a good thing.
So I stopped submitting it. Years later, I gave it another read and decided I was right to give up on it. The writer who thinks he never writes anything below the standard he seeks to maintain is a chowderhead.
Once its flaws became more obvious to me, I briefly considered revising it and trying again. Then I decided that time could be put to wiser use. I have other, better ideas — at least, I hope they're better — that I haven't had time to pursue. Why devote that energy to an idea I don't even like that much now? I somehow don't think Mr. Heinlein would urge me to decide otherwise. Another maxim of the writing game is to always lead with your best. No matter what I do to it, I don't think the script no one liked will ever be my best.
As a writer, your value to those who hire or buy is that you give them something that is of use to them. You give an editor a book he thinks is worth publishing. You give a producer a script he thinks is worth producing. An editor or producer faces the same imperative as you. Just as you have to write, they have to cause product to be created. If you deliver material that make this possible, you are of use to them and they will like you (enough) and give you money (sometimes enough) and enable your work to go onto the next step of printing or publication — which is presumably what you really want.
Heinlein was railing against writers who don't write…or don't write enough. I'm with him on that. I think the profession is glutted with too many people who excuse (or worse, romanticize) non-production. Yes, you can't sell a half-finished piece. You also can't sell a rotten piece…or if you can, sometimes you shouldn't.
I don't like critiquing other writers' work but every so often, I get roped into reviewing portfolios or samples at a convention. I showed up at a con once and without telling me, they'd advertised that I would review materials by wanna-be comic book writers and artists and advise them on how much potential they had or suggest where they could get work…or something. I hate doing this kind of thing. My head is full of my own unfinished stories and I don't have room to cram someone else's in there. I also don't feel my opinions are so infallible that someone else should be basing the management of their career on them. I've seen lots of published comics or produced movies based on scripts I would have deemed unworthy.
When I'm stuck inspecting samples, one sign of outright amateurism I encounter is this. A kid will come up to show me his artwork and before I've even formulated a snap opinion — sometimes, before I've even opened the folio — they start with the excuses: "I did this a few years ago"…"Oh, I did that one when I had the flu"…"I had a lot of trouble with my pen on this one…" An oft-heard one is, "I know this looks bad there but the editor insisted I do it that way."
As I've learned from others who do these critiques more often and willingly, the proper response is to close the portfolio, hand it back to them and say, "Come back when you can show me only work you're proud of." It is usually the most valuable advice you can give these folks and I can't square that with Heinlein's #3-5.
Like I said, I'm not comfy disagreeing with one of my favorite authors but I think he would have approved of any writer who created a lot of work and saw most of it go on to be published or produced. There's also that happy bonus when you're at least reasonably proud of most of it.
I'm depressed to hear that Kevin Clash, the performer responsible for Elmo on Sesame Street, has resigned. If he indeed had what we call an "inappropriate relationship" with a minor, a resignation is probably justified. Consorting with a kid is inexcusable…but it's still a shame and it's not enough to say he should have known better.
I met Mr. Clash ever-so-briefly at the Daytime Emmy Awards this year. As you may recall, I was there to help June Foray present several statuettes and to pick up one of her own. Clash was a presenter not long before us. After June got hers, I was escorting her out to the lobby and Mr. Clash came up to her, shook her hand and said some very nice things to her about how her work had been so important and inspirational not just to him but to several generations. He did not introduce himself, perhaps because he had just been on stage (and assumed she knew from that who he was) or perhaps he just thought it didn't matter. But June was a little overwhelmed at that moment and graciously accepted the words of this unknown (to her) person. I, aware who he was, shook his hand and told him that most of what he'd just said to June applied to him, as well.
And that was it: About a minute, maybe a minute-thirty. Moments later when I told June who that was, she was startled and wished she'd known at the time so she could have told him how much Elmo is loved.
Elmo is loved. Right now at the Childrens Television Workshop, they're probably having discussions about whether someone else can take over the role or whether Elmo will live on only in reruns. Either one would be a sad option.
Here's a Kellogg's commercial they say is from 1952, the year of my birth. I think one of the singers is Thurl Ravenscroft, who was the voice of Tony the Tiger, mascot of the product known for a long time as Sugar Frosted Flakes. Later, they were just Frosted Flakes because, you know, it's fine to eat sugar but we don't want to mention it. Also, Kellogg's High Fructose Corn Syrup Frosted Flakes doesn't have quite the same lilt to it.
Frosted Flakes debuted in 1951. Tony was briefly voiced by Dallas McKennon before they settled on Mr. Ravenscroft, who did it until his death in 2005. Quite a run. I'm not sure why that product is absent from this commercial. Maybe it's actually earlier than '52 or maybe Frosted Flakes wasn't yet a nationally-distributed product. Cereals are often introduced into certain regions before the company invests in a nationwide push. Anyway, I'm wondering if there's any connection between Ravenscroft singing in this spot and his casting as Tony.
And what interest me more is that there's only one cereal in the line then — Sugar Corn Pops — where the sales emphasis is on the sugar. That would change soon…
Jake Blumgart tells us what really did in the Hostess company: It was a combination of the public losing interest in their product, the inability of management to reverse that trend and the determination of management to pay itself huge salaries.
Mark, about the "Finish your shit" thing, I think it's an important point to make to "aspiring" writers because of a simple thing. Writing is very different from other artistic endeavours. For some reason "writers" can aspire, not write much, have "ideas" be "working on ideas" and so on, and people and even the writers themselves will buy it. Other artists, musicians, painters, sculptures, have to actually deliver. "Oh you paint? Let me see your paintings!", that's the first thing they hear.
By forcing yourself to "finish your shit" you actually produce something. Which is better than nothing. And why? Because it shows you what you can do, and if you can be a writer at all, or a good writer, and stop aspiring. It shows what kind of writer you are. Talking about writing doesn't, thinking about it doesn't as well, and so on.
So finishing your shit will show new writers, or people that think they want to write, if they can do it. And it will also show them what kind of writing they can do. That's why I think this advice is so important. It is a big, big filter, and clears a lot of things up. Don't you think?
I think it's important for writers to have finished work. I don't think it's important for them to finish everything they start writing. If you spend six hours writing something and you're halfway through and it ain't going in a good direction, why spend another six hours completing it? Put that six hours towards something that might be decent. Yes, it's important to finish the good (or possibly-good) stuff. It's also important to be willing to cut your own work or discard it outright if necessary. Too many writers think an investment of time and effort makes the work sacred or necessarily good.
You know where I really learned this? Writing jokes for stand-up comics. It is quite possible — at times, probable — for the following to happen. You write a joke. A comedian gets on stage. Said comedian tells that joke and it results in insufficient laughter. The comedian tries it again a few times — different deliveries in other venues before other audiences. There is still little or no laughter.
At some point in that process — hopefully, not too late — the professional learns it's time to throw the joke out and try something else. You have to be able to turn loose of it and write off the time 'n' effort you put into writing it. And in the same way, if you're writing something and it's not good, you have to be able to write off the time you've put into it and move onto something else. You don't necessarily have to throw it away forever. If that hurts too much, put it in a symbolic drawer somewhere and go back to it six months from now and see if it's fixable. But don't throw good effort after bad.
I do agree with you though that "working on ideas" is not writing. I run into people who consider themselves writers…or who even claim they're about to start writing. They have all these great ideas in their heads and they're just waiting for that perfect moment to put them down on paper or the digital equivalent. What you want to say to these people — and I have, usually to no effect, is "If you're a writer, write. And if you're not going to write, stop kidding yourself that you're a writer or will ever be a writer." Those ideas in your head are of no value if they remain there. A writer who doesn't write is like a chef who, while he thinks a lot about how he's going to make what he's going to make, never quite gets around to actually making it.
What should Republicans do about the so-called Fiscal Cliff? Matthew Yglesias says they should cut a deal as soon as possible. David Frum says they should stall as long as they can. I think I'm with Matt on this one. If they're going to renege on their "no tax hike" pledge, better to do it while the country is still more interested in the possible loss of Twinkies.
Oh — and while I have your attention, here's Fred Kaplan on press coverage of the Petraeus Scandal. This also matters less to Americans than the Hostess bankruptcy.
Ezra Klein on companies like Papa John's that are whining about having to cough up the tiny amounts it'll cost them to make sure their employees have health insurance. I still think we should have completely liberated American business from all responsibility for employee health insurance by switching over to Single-Payer but that wasn't going to happen.
In other news, Tea Party Congressguy Allen West seems to have lost his seat in Florida. If before the election, Democrats had made up a list of the members of Congress they most hoped went down to defeat for jabbering right-wing nutcase speech, Mr. West would not have been far from the top…and Dems would not have dreamed they'd have gotten as many of their wishes as they did.
But the troubling thing about West's loss is that his refusal to concede and his last-ditch legal actions did uncover a lot of clumsiness with how the votes were counted — miscounted ballots, mislaid ballots, etc. It didn't help him keep his seat. In fact, the recounts he demanded put him even farther behind. But he did uncover some pretty sloppy handling of one of our nation's most sacred endeavors: Free elections. Am I the only person in this country who is ever troubled by how votes are counted even when they yield the outcome I wanted?
Here's someone's list of 25 Things I Want To Say To So-Called "Aspiring" Writers. And if I were Morey Amsterdam, I'd say, "Tell them that if they're aspiring, they should use a good deodorant." So we're all lucky I'm not Morey Amsterdam and I'm especially fortunate.
I find little on it with which to quibble. I think writers often make too much of the "no one respects us" routine…and sometimes, the reason we're not respected is that we tell the world that we aren't. The rule about how you're going to starve for a while is not always true. I've never starved (isn't it obvious?) and in more than 43 years, never been without paying work. But I do think it's a good idea to understand that it could happen and it could even happen suddenly.
Also, this thing about "finish your shit" is not to be taken literally. If what you're writing is shit, don't waste your time finishing it. Throw it out and start something better. The main thing is to be prolific and finish something, preferably a lot of somethings. But you really shouldn't be reticent to give up on something if ain't working…and if it doesn't fly, put it to one side and write something else. I know guys who'll write a novel or a screenplay or something…and then their lives are all about selling that one thing and if no one buys it, they let that stop them from the next project and all others.
But I do believe in the author's main point, which is that talking isn't writing and hanging out with other writers isn't writing and even thinking about what you're going to write is at best a part of the writing process. And I especially agree that a person who writes is a writer and a person who doesn't write is not a writer…and that too many people don't get that.
My pal Roger, who hates Bill Clinton personally but admires his speaking style, just sent me this link that's a great sidebar to the speech I just embedded. It's the written text of his speech compared to what he actually said. Ol' Bill didn't follow his speech all that closely. He said most of the same things but said them the way he felt like saying them. An awful lot of it wasn't on the prompter and he read almost none of it exactly as written.