Authors: Woody Allen
Mere Anarchy (9 page)
“Either that or we mail your arms and legs to four different addresses.” With that they quit the offices of Moe Bottomfeeder, Prayer Jockey, and after making sure they were long gone, so did I.
I don’t know if the building in question finally accepted Teresa Calebrezzi as a tenant, but I can say that while there are not many writing jobs here in Tierra del Fuego, my kneecaps are still of a piece. Amen.
C
AUTION
, F
ALLING
M
OGULS
WHILE PERUSING THE
times
movie ads in desperate search of some bearable celluloid high jinks with which to palliate a summer of heat and barometric readings one associates with August in Yoknapatawpha County, I had the interesting fortune to find a little oddment entitled
The Kid Stays in the Picture
. This nostalgic documentary chronicled the rise of a young Prince Charming from a minor acting role as a matador to a taurine Hollywood studio head, laid low by the banderillas of blind ambition, marital heartbreak, and the untimely foreclosure by public servants of a commodious stash of nose candy. Emotionally shredded by this Euripidean tragedy, I eschewed sleep that night to mint a screenplay on the theme of hubris in Lotusland—a manuscript that promises to be an artistic and commercial event unexperienced since
Howard the Duck
. Some scenes follow.
Fade in on a papaya stand on Manhattan’s West Side. Dispensing franks and coconut milk is a hangdog pilgrim in his fifties whose prematurely aging visage speaks eloquently of
suffering
at fate’s mercurial whims. He is Mike Umlaut, who muses to himself ruefully while drawing a piña colada as his boss, Mr. Ectopic, looks on
.
UMLAUT
Saints preserve me. That I, Mike Umlaut, once resplendent CEO of a dream factory, vacuuming profits like a slot machine, am reduced to doling out tropical beverages as a means of keeping my stove warm.
ECTOPIC
Let’s move it, Umlaut. There’s a customer bellowing for a corn dog.
UMLAUT
Right away, sir. Just slicing a papaya in such wise as to retain its healthful vitamin content. (
To himself, as he fetches a corn dog for an insistent eight-year-old
) Ironic that I who began my career trafficking in victuals should end up in similar fashion.
(
Camera shakes as we dissolve back to Umlaut’s first job as caterer on the set of
Where Beavers Fear to Tread,
a studio epic shot at a lot close to Paramount. We dolly in to the craft-service table, where we discover Harry Eppis, the producer, pondering the assorted pick-me-ups
.)
EPPIS
(
to Moribund, his yes-man
) What to do? Here I am, two years over schedule on an eight-week shoot, and my lead actor, Roy Reflux, gets busted for frottage at the Gap. Is it a wonder my ulcer’s the size of a flapjack? You there, wretched caterer: black coffee and a cinnamon Danish.
MORIBUND
You’ll have to shoot around him, H.E. At least till his parole. It’ll add copious zeroes to our budget, but you knew Reflux was a handful when you inked his pact.
UMLAUT
Excuse me, sir, for daring to speak, but I couldn’t help overhearing your little dumka. Why not just write his role out?
EPPIS
What? Who said that? Do my cochleas deceive me, or was it the lowly purveyor of buns?
UMLAUT
Think of it, sir. His character, though amusing, is not pivotal. A few lashes laid to the writer’s back and he could emend the scenario with sufficient cunning as to manumit you forever from Reflux, that pot of kasha, whom you’re vastly overpaying, if
Variety
’s any judge.
EPPIS
I’ll bet he’s right. This below-the-line inchworm has just brushed a veil from before my peepers. You’ve a quick noggin, you rascal—and obviously it extends beyond schnecken.
UMLAUT
By the way, I wouldn’t have black coffee and cinnamon Danish if you have an ulcer. The one is sodden with caffeine, the other sports too savory a spice. Why not let me coddle you a more user-friendly tandem of
oeufs
.
EPPIS
Is there no end to this Renaissance man’s vision? There’s a place for a noodle such as yours in the front office. Henceforth you will be in charge of all pictures made at Bubonic Studios.
(
Dissolve to a movie premiere at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. The words “One Year Later” are supered over the glittering throng that engorges the lobby. An admixture of moguls and superstars exchange insincerities with agents, directors, and ravishing young wannabes. The camera travels down the chandelier, à la Hitchcock, to a close-up of Mike Umlaut’s trembling hands as he converses, sotto voce, with his newly acquired agent, Jasper Nutmeat
.)
NUTMEAT
Take it easy, kid. I’ve never seen you so wired.
UMLAUT
Wouldn’t you be, Nutmeat? My first picture as producer. If
Behold a Pale Endocrinologist
doesn’t make it, I’m finished. Fifty million simoleons suctioned from studio coffers and deposited in perpetuity with Thomas Crapper.
NUTMEAT
You gotta go with your instinct, kid. Your gut told you America’s ready for a picture about the smelting process.
UMLAUT
I’ve only staked my future on it. But what am I to do, Nutmeat? I’m a dreamer.
(
A velvety voice punctuates Umlaut’s reverie
.)
PAULA
And I’d like a chance to make your dreams come true.
(
Umlaut snaps around and we cut to a blond apparition in her early twenties, clearly descended from Olympus by way of Hugh Hefner’s mansion
.)
UMLAUT
Wha? Who are you, you fortuitous agglomeration of protoplasm?
PAULA
Paula Pessary. I’m only a starlet now, but with a teensy break I could lay siege to the hearts of a truly solid demographic.
UMLAUT
And I’ll see to it you get the at-bat so coveted.
PAULA
(
stroking his cheek
) I promise you, I’m well trained in the art of gratitude.
(
The bow tie of Umlaut’s tuxedo begins spinning like a propeller
.)
UMLAUT
I mean to marry you and make you the brightest star in the firmament, and I’m including Canis Major, the dog one.
PAULA
Mike Umlaut marry? Everyone knows that as Tinseltown’s budding Thalberg you’re glimpsed nightly at sundry boîtes always squiring a fresh mouse.
UMLAUT
Till tonight. Tonight, the earth shook.
NUTMEAT
(
running over
) The reviews are in. The movie’s a smash. You’ll never have to return another phone call!
(
Cut to exterior shot of Bubonic Studios. Cut inside to reveal the new head honcho, Mike Umlaut. He sits in his office, where the walls are dotted with Warhols and Stellas, plus an occasional Fra Angelico to limn the breadth of his
taste.
Surrounding him are flunkies and myrmidons aplenty. Nutmeat, now a vice president, is present, plus Arvide Mite and Tobias Gelding, two ubiquitous studio dealmakers. Dolly in for two-shot of Umlaut barking orders to his harried secretary, Miss Onus
.)
UMLAUT
Get me Wolfram Ficus on the phone and tell him I’m sending him a copy of
Such Foolish Chickens
. Tell him to read the part of Yount the apothecary. And ready my private Gulfstream; there’s a sneak preview of
The Reluctant Embalmer
in Seattle. Have the plane taxi down Rodeo Drive and pick me up in front of Spago after lunch.
GELDING
M.U., the weekend figures are in.
Gerbils and Gypsies
has broken every record at the music hall.
MITE
As has
The Learning Disabled Toreador
. Everything you touch goes platinum.
UMLAUT
Say, boys, have any of you read
Gilgamesh
?
(
They assent enthusiastically
.)
NUTMEAT
The Babylonian Bible? Sure, several times, why?
UMLAUT
I’m going to say one word to you: musical.
NUTMEAT
(
reverentially
) Only you. Only you …
(
Paula Pessary, now Mrs. Umlaut, enters in a tight Versace dress that breads her voluptuous contours like matzo meal on a cutlet
.)
PAULA
The advance notices of
Reverse Peristalsis
are in. They’re calling me this generation’s Garbo and you the brooding Svengali who pulls the strings.
(
Umlaut produces a tiara from his pocket and lays it on her. They kiss
.)
GELDING
Isn’t love something? Clock this golden couple. While flood and famine cloak so much of the blue marble, these two coast through, buttressed only by devotion and high grosses.
(
Dissolve to the set of a film on location in Coonabarabran. The director, Lippo Sheigitz, is raging at Umlaut
.)
SHEIGITZ
You crass philistine! This was supposed to be my picture! I was to have total artistic control!
UMLAUT
What’s a few line changes?
SHEIGITZ
Line changes? The blind concert violinist is now a Navy SEAL?
UMLAUT
It gives more oomph. Look, Sheigitz, you know that I’m not one of those passive suits who just busy themselves with arithmetic. I’m a creative, hands-on guy. By the way, forget Mozart, I’ve decided it’s going to be a rock score. I’ve hired the group Epicac to handle the music.
SHEIGITZ
(
attacking Umlaut with a prop hoe
) I’ll dismember you, you ham-fisted meddler!
(
Guards rush in and remove Sheigitz
.)
NUTMEAT
Not to worry, M.U. He’ll be replaced
toot sweet
by a more malleable weaver of dreams. Town’s full of ’em. Say, why the ductile puss? Don’t let that ersatz auteur put you uptight.
UMLAUT
It’s not that. It’s Paula, my wife.
NUTMEAT
Uh-oh, what gives, M.U.?
UMLAUT
She’s been having an affair with her co-star, Agamemnon Wurst. And who can blame her? Workaholic that I am, I turned a blind eye when she went off to make a film on location in Paris with the number one box-office attraction in America. The film wrapped two years ago, and they’re still on location. It doesn’t take much to put the pieces together.
NUTMEAT
That gonzo? You could ruin him in the business with one phone call.
UMLAUT
No, I prefer the high road. I wished them Godspeed. Funny, we once vowed eternal love—now she won’t tell me where she hid the car keys.
(
Cut to chopper landing, and an excited Arvide Mite runs at Umlaut
.)
MITE
What figures—what gorgeous numerals. The remake of
Love Tsimmes
is a monster hit. M.U., you could film the L.A. phone directory and make it into a bonanza.
NUTMEAT
You’ve got a wild look in your eyes, M.U. I’ve never discerned it before. Add a crooked Jekyll-and-Hyde smile. I pray you’re not about to overreach.
(
Musical sting. Dissolve to six months later. Umlaut’s Holmby Hills estate. Here, as in his office, the walls are littered with Rauschenbergs and Johnses, with a casual sprinkling of Vermeers to leaven the modernity. Nutmeat is consoling Umlaut as a half dozen impassive furniture movers are removing paintings and repossessing everything he owns
.)
NUTMEAT
Did I say take it easy? Did I not lecture myself blue in the punim on overweening ambition, using as a for instance Icarus?
UMLAUT
Yes, but—
NUTMEAT
What but? Arvide Mite was only waxing hyperbolic when he said you could make the phone book into a hit. Only an idiot or a megalomaniac would have accepted the challenge. Especially the Yellow Pages.
UMLAUT
What did I do?
NUTMEAT
What you’ve done is taken a record budget of two hundred million iron men and fabricated a concrete latke that opened to bupkis. I guess you can’t blame the board of directors of Amalgamated Sushi for ousting you. That Japanese conglomerate’s going to have to sell a lot of yellowtail to break even.