May, 1996: The Cannes Film Festival
Todd Haynes delivers a second draft of Velvet Goldmine to Scott Meek, the executive producer, and me. We decide to test the waters here at Cannes, giving out a few copies and trying to maintain a smug air of: “We know we have a hot property.”
Scott is a gregarious Scotsman in his mid-forties. It’s a tremendous amount of fun to have a drink or two or three with him. Several production executives sit with us happily for a good half hour before they realize that they’re being pitched. My style, on the other hand, is far more studied: I have an earnest look on my face and bandy about words like “mise-en-scène” and “auteur.” All in all, Scott and I make the perfect team. He pitches for the sheer fun and exuberance of the movie while I speak up for its artistic integrity.
We concentrate on a handful of independent or independent-friendly studios: Miramax, October, New Line, Orion, Trimark, and Fox Searchlight. Our meetings all go pretty well but no one exec says “YES! WE MUST MAKE THIS MOVIE!” Instead there is guarded interest. The underlying message seems to be: “Make the package stronger.”
How do you make a package stronger? Mostly by attaching cast—namely middle- to big-name stars. It’s a little tricky at this point. I have to be able to telephone an agent with enough confidence in my voice about the movie (“We are one step away from being green lit!”) so that he’ll get his client to read the script. But I can’t quite say that this movie is financed—I have to imply it without actually articulating it. It is a scary line to walk and requires a strong stomach.
May: New York
Scott goes back to England and I go back to New York. Two days after my return, Mark Tusk of New Line telephones me. Mark worked in acquisitions for many years at Miramax. He looks far younger then his thirty-four years and exudes hipsterness. He dresses in a kind of elegant grunge style and affects a hip-hop slang. Still, he always seems to have his fingers at least partly on the pulse; right after Poison’s release he tracked Todd and me down to our dingy office and knocked on our door to tell us how much he loved the movie. Even though he had definitely brought Miramax some of its cooler movies over the years, he was starting to get a bit restless. When New Line offered him a production job, he jumped. He has been there all of two months.
I pick up the phone and Mark says the magic words: “YES! WE WANT TO MAKE THIS MOVIE!”
Wow. Now what? I know that Mark doesn’t really have the power to green-light a movie, but his boss, Mike De Luca, does. The next step will be a meeting with him.
June
Todd goes back to London while we try to insert ourselves into Mr. De Luca’s busy schedule. Todd hires Sandy Powell (Interview with a Vampire, Orlando) to design the costumes, Christopher Hobbs (The Long Day Closes, Edward II) as production designer, and Susie Figgis (The Crying Game) as casting director. The package is definitely getting stronger. He calls me excitedly one night. “I just saw Trainspotting!” he says—the movie hadn’t yet opened in the United States—“We’ve got to get Ewan McGregor for Curt Wild!”
And get him we do. Now we had a bona-fide Hot Young Star, a strong creative team, and intense interest from a North American distributor. We’re walking on air.
July
Still trying to nail down that meeting with De Luca. Meanwhile Mark says, “Hey relax, dude! De Luca is, like, so into this project. It’s gonna be jammin’!” So I try to relax. I check up on Mike De Luca and find that he can in fact green-light a movie—or, as one person puts it: “He is one of the few people in Hollywood who can actually do what he says he can do.”
Todd and I struck up a friendship with Michael Stipe of R.E.M. last year, initially based on Stipe’s passion for Todd’s Safe. Michael has expressed a great deal of interest in working with Todd on a movie, hoping to function as a producer and to contribute to the score. His production company, Single Cell, has a deal with New Line. So it seems like fate: Single Cell will be the executive producers, Michael Stipe will supervise the music, and New Line will advance fifty percent of the budget against North America.
And where will the rest come from? Using New Line’s interest, Scott Meek has gone to CiBy Sales, a foreign company that specializes in auteur directors. Some of their films include The Piano and Secrets and Lies. They’re eager to put up the remaining fifty percent. Now if we can just get that meeting with De Luca…
August
Finally, I get the call from Mark Tusk. “Yo, De Luca’s coming to town and is, like, totally into meeting. So, like, when’s good?” We set up a meeting for the next day at Pravda, an impossibly cool bar in Soho. I am worried it will be too crowded, but Mark assures me, “I got the juice to get a reservation.”
Todd and I meet up beforehand. We decide we should be seven minutes late—we don’t want to be too eager, but we don’t want to seem too nonchalant, either. “What exactly is going to happen at this meeting?” Todd asks. “I’m not completely sure,” I say, “but I think it’s kind of a formality. I mean, Mark has assured me that Mike is completely into the movie, but he does have to meet us before we go forward.”
We take a deep breath and walk into Pravda. It is filled with smoke and sultry models. I spot Mark and De Luca in a booth, well into their first cocktails. Mike is short and compact with jet-black hair. He leaps to his feet as we approach, yelling, “Hey howaya!” in a thick Queens brogue. We order drinks. Mark is drinking something pink in a martini glass. De Luca is drinking vodka tonics. Todd and I order the same.
Mike speaks rapid-fire, his eyes bright. He tells us he loves the project. A bit pompously, I say something like, “I assume that you want to work with us because you too can see that Todd is a True Visionary—” and he cuts me off with, “Yeah yeah, I mean I do, but I want to make this movie because I think it’ll make a fucking fortune.” He orders another cocktail. We work our way through the issues:
Cast: “I don’t give a shit. It ain’t a cast-driven movie.”
Budget: “Ten million bucks, huh? So whaddaya need from us? Fifty percent? Shouldn’t be a problem.”
He orders yet another cocktail, but it doesn’t seem to be affecting him at all. “I gotta run some numbers with the video guys and talk to publicity to get you an exact offer. But we’re in the fucking ballpark. LET’S MAKE THIS MOVIE!!”
Wow. Business over, Todd compliments Mike on Seven, one of Mike’s pet projects. Mike preens. More cocktails. Mark has remained silent during most of this, but now opens up and we all chatter excitedly about the music Michael Stipe will bring, etc. One more cocktail and Todd and I stagger out the door. We hit the street and throw our arms around each other. Our movie is practically financed!
The next day I call Scott with the good news: “We shook hands, he didn’t flinch at fifty percent!” I tell him we’ll probably get the offer in the next week and he should alert CiBy Sales. I call Mark Tusk, who confirms that the meeting went great and an offer will be forthcoming.
September
The offer still hasn’t come in. Mark assures me that the delay is simply due to everyone being in different places, what with all the film markets. Okay. We continue making the package stronger. Jonathan Rhys-Myers is cast as Brian. He is the Next Hot Thing—a mere nineteen years old with a handful of good roles in movies that haven’t hit the screens yet, but the Buzz around him is as loud as it can be.
Then we get a call from Nicole Kidman’s manager. He has somehow obtained a copy of the script and says Nicole would love to meet with Todd. We arrange a meeting in Los Angeles, and I dutifully call Mark and tell him the good news.
Other companies have got wind of our casting—and Ms. Kidman’s interest—and want to know what’s going on. Has New Line got this movie sewn up? I call Mark yet again and say, “What’s up with the offer? I’m getting calls.”
He reprimands me. “Show a little good faith! The offer is on its way!”
He calls the next day to say that one of New Line’s presidents, Michael Lynn, had a few questions about the script. “Not that, like, it’s a big deal or anything. But, like, could we get together and go over them?”
We meet at a neighborhood bar. Mark has a typed list of questions, mostly having to do with the homosexuality in the film and its depiction. I am wondering what this is really all about. Is New Line having second thoughts? Is the gay stuff scaring them? Todd is his usual articulate self and Mark scribbles furiously on a legal pad, muttering, “This is great stuff! Great!”
Todd has a wonderful meeting with Nicole Kidman. But the following week her manager calls to say that her schedule might not work. She is doing the Stanley Kubrick film with Tom (Cruise) and Kubrick is notorious for going way over schedule. We decide to keep our fingers crossed and wait and see.
October
Still no word from New Line. A little desperately, I call Michael Stipe’s partner at Single Cell, Sandy Stern. Since he’s in Los Angeles, maybe he can find out what’s really going on and if there’s cause for alarm. The fact is, even with our potentially stellar casting, no other company has come after Velvet Goldmine aggressively. Maybe that’s because everyone thinks New Line is signed, sealed, and delivered.
I make an experimental call to Lindsay Law, head of Fox Search-light, and tell him about Ewan, Jonathan and Nicole Kidman. I hint at how much we’d prefer to work with Fox rather then New Line. I go so far as to say that New Line has not got its shit together and we’d jump ship in a minute. He does not respond with much enthusiasm. My feeling from most other companies is that they need to see a completed film before deciding if it’s their cup of tea—casting or no casting.
Sandy calls back. He and Stipe have finally tracked De Luca down. De Luca assures them that an offer will be in on Wednesday. But…it won’t be for fifty percent. Maybe closer to thirty. I am stunned. Three months ago we had hardly any cast and De Luca offered fifty—now we have great cast and he’s offering less! Sandy says at least an offer will be on the table and then we can negotiate from there.
Wednesday comes and goes. No offer.
November: London
I am in England, where Scott and I have a great meeting with Channel 4. The amount of money they are willing to put up might take the pressure off North America. Maybe thirty-five percent. An argument could be made that the film is more valuable in Europe than it is in the States. However, we still don’t have a North American offer of any kind. I call Mark yet again. He says, “Things are a bit tough here because The Long Kiss Goodnight didn’t open so well, but chill out, it is still totally alive, De Luca is still totally into it.”
Meanwhile, Nicole Kidman has been on the Kubrick film for one week and it is already three weeks behind schedule. So it looks like that won’t work out.
I get ready to leave England just as the London Film Festival is beginning. Mark Tusk calls to say that Jonathan Weisgal of New Line will be there. He will meet with Scott and the offer will be made after that. Okay. I call Sandy Stern. He gets Michael Stipe to call De Luca directly and demand that something be resolved.
November: New York
Scott calls to say that the meeting with Jonathan went very well. Jonathan apologized profusely for how unprofessional New Line has been up until this point. He was flying back to New York the following day and promised that an offer would be sorted out immediately. As Scott tells me this, I start to wonder if I am insanely gullible or insanely optimistic. The sheer effort of having to appear up! confident!, so that none of our attached talent absconds, is exhausting. Already I have had Ewan and Jonathan’s agents on the phone: “We hear your deal at New Line is shaky—is this a go picture or what???” I take a deep breath. “Who told you that? We’re in great shape!”
Todd is starting to sense my concern. I tell him I am worried New Line will fall through. He is incredulous: “But he sat across from us and told us New Line was making this movie!” he says. I share his complete astonishment that people would not do what they said they would.
Once again, I call Sandy Stern. He says that Jonathan Weisgal just called to ask if Michael Stipe is planning to write any music for Velvet Goldmine. Sandy told him it hadn’t been discussed but certainly wasn’t out of the question. Jonathan said, “Can you guarantee me that he will write at least one song?” Sandy said, “Sure, yes!” “Great!” said Jonathan. “You’ll get our offer tomorrow!”
Then Sandy says to me, “The only thing is, Christine, I think the offer may be less then thirty percent.”
LESS???
“Uh…How much less?”
“Maybe closer to a million. But look, at least it’s an offer. It’s a place to start!”
Tomorrow comes and goes. No offer.
December
Wendy Palmer from CiBy Sales calls. Miramax has just made an offer of one million dollars. It’s low, but at least an offer—any offer!—is finally on the table from North America. I call New Line and tell Mark that a competitor has made an offer. I won’t tell him who or how much. He still seems sanguine about Velvet Goldmine’s life at New Line, although he does not use phrases like “good faith” anymore. I ask him what the hell is going on and he stammers and finally comes up with: “Well, you know, when you lost Nicole Kidman it was, like, really tough.”
WAIT A MINUTE! “We never had Nicole Kidman!” I tell him, livid. “And besides, De Luca said cast didn’t matter!”
Mark counters, “Look, I’m just as upset as you!”
I seriously doubt that and slam down the phone.
Three days later, Sandy Stern calls. “Did you get the offer?”
“What are you talking about?” I say.
“New Line is making an offer today!” Sandy is so excited he can hardly get the words out. I hang up and call Scott. “Did New Line make an offer??”
Scott says yes, they did. He is strangely subdued.
“Well???”
“It was for $750,000,” says Scott. “I said, ‘No thank you.’”
The hard part, looking back, is that I don’t know what I should have done differently. I took meetings with the people supposedly in a position to make the movie happen and I believed what they told me.
Mark Tusk can only shake his head and suggest that his attempt to get Velvet Goldmine financed during his first few months at New Line was akin to Bill Clinton trying to get gays accepted in the military during his first few months as president.