Bankroll. Tom MalloyЧитать онлайн книгу.
8: Starting the Train
Chapter 9: The Ten-Arm Approach
Chapter 10: The Finder’s Fee Approach
Chapter 11: The Distributor Approach
Chapter 12: The Attachment Approach
Chapter 13: The Dangerous Approach
Chapter 14: The Structured Approach
Chapter 15: The Law of Attraction
Appendix B: Websites and Other Resources
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would first like to thank Bob from Montclair State University, who was my Freshman Writing teacher. Bob’s class was like a psychotherapy session. He started by going through all the educational traumas students had been put through by the old-school writing system. When I left his class, I knew I could write.
I would also like to thank all the producers I’ve worked with and will hopefully continue to work with, including Aimee Schoof and Isen Robbins, Russ Terlecki, Robert Royston, and Sylvia Caminer.
Also, thanks to my parents who really taught me I could achieve anything if I put my mind to it. You hear stories all the time of people succeeding “in spite of” their upbringing. I’m the exact opposite. I fully believe any success I have is “because of” my parents.
Lastly, I really need to thank all the sharks in the film business who have tried to take a bite out of me in the past, screwed me over, or tried to steal from me. Seriously, without the lessons you taught me, I would never have gotten where I am today. I love you all, I forgive you all, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!
INTRODUCTION
WHO AM I?
Growing Up
My love for the film industry started when I was very young — too young to imagine anything other than fame and fortune in the world of movies. The truth, I’d learn later on, is that film is a business, and it’s not an easy business! But for most of my early life, from my bedroom in Hunterdon County, New Jersey, all I could visualize were the bright lights and happy faces of Hollywood.
I started as an actor. My first role was playing Captain Hook in my fourth grade production of Peter Pan (Peter was played by a female). The years from fifth through eighth grade were hard for me because there was no theater program at our middle school and, hence, I had no outlet. So I resorted to being the class clown, which landed me in the principal’s office almost daily.
High school became a busy time for my acting career. I was the star of all the plays and musicals at Hunterdon Central, a fantastic school in Flemington, New Jersey. I had my sights set on the big time!
When it came time to pick a college, I tried to lay the groundwork for my future career. I had heard Montclair University (in Montclair, New Jersey) had a great acting program, and, if I attended, I would be living just minutes from New York City. Perfect. I got accepted as an undergraduate in the theater program right away.
But the program wasn’t what I had hoped for. I wasn’t interested in classes that were aimed at the least talented people in the room. I needed to excel. So I switched my major to communications and chose film studies as a minor. I didn’t know if I was making the right choice. I actually thought I might have ruined my future. Thankfully, a chance meeting in New York City’s Little Italy put me back on track.
Gravesend
It was the summer of 1994 and I was sitting with my family outside Il Fornaio on Mulberry Street in Little Italy, despite my protests (I had wanted to eat inside because of the heat, and I had also wanted to eat at a different restaurant). A young waiter named Sal came up to our table and asked, “What can I get you?” My uncle, a jokester visiting from California, replied, “What can we get you?” Sal laughed and responded, “How about some money to make my feature film?”
My ears perked up. “You’re making a feature film?” I asked. “Well, I’m an actor.” And that was it. My big “discovery.”
After several auditions, Sal cast me as one of the four lead roles in Gravesend, Sal’s semi-autobiographical street film about Brooklyn. What followed were three years of shooting, reshooting, torture, and general hell on earth. There’s still folklore associated with the film. I can’t attest to all of it, but I will say that we did shoot the movie for $5000, we did tap into street lamps (illegally) to light scenes, and we did do moronic things such as pull up to a gang of thugs on a street corner and ask, “Do you want to shoot a fight scene?” Real fights broke out almost nightly.
But the other actors and I myself were not giving up. I had it especially tough because I was the youngest, and I had no job because I was in college. Getting paid for this movie was out of the question; I’ve still never even seen a penny from it. I would shoot all night long and then drive back to Montclair from Brooklyn and go to class. Then I’d repeat the process the next night.
My persistence paid off (if not financially). By 1997, Gravesend became a hit, kind of. Oliver Stone lent his name as a producer and presented the film. The film had mixed reviews, but some of the most important publications such as Variety, the Los Angeles Times, and the New York Times all raved about it. There are still people out there who consider Gravesend the quintessential Brooklyn street film, and the only film to be made in the Cassavettes style in years.
I remember being in Los Angeles in 1998 when Gravesend was released to theaters. I foolishly thought I would be returning to New York City to find a mailbox full of scripts. I was wrong.
Gravesend made me a “hot item” for about thirty days. And then, as fast as it came, it was gone. In that short period I got some of the best auditions in the world, but the roles kept going to established actors who were already famous. Looking back, I believe one of my errors was not hiring a publicist. But hindsight is 20/20, and I soon found myself without an agent, without a job, and without a prayer, living in New York City.
The Next Step
There aren’t many jobs for out-of-work actors besides