In the hospital, my acting training, I think, activated through this experience to assist me. I didn’t have any assistance, obviously. If someone asked me — are you feeling things down there, for example, right? That might have changed how that unfolded. But that did not happen. It left me horrifically confused. Took me years to even state that. So I was going through so much, not knowing what to do with all of it, so I just started seeing characters being born because whatever is happening, a movie already exists. He’s guilty? Okay. He’s innocent? Okay. Once I got through the muck of it, which took years, I ended up in Istanbul, and I was still not doing well. I moved to Moda, a hip neighborhood on the Asian side, along the Bosphorus. I couldn’t really move for a while, it wasn’t the time to travel, to be honest, but I went out one evening to get a drink. I took myself out. On my way back to the nomad hotel, I passed a wine bar, and I stopped to look at the menu —all Turkish wines. In a glow of the standing menu, I’d come back another time, I thought, but up the street, something told me to go… I found it strange, practially the only one on this block, but okay, I thought, I already had a drink, but okay. I walked in, took a seat, ordered a glass of wine. A woman soon turned over her shoulder and noticed me. She was a distinguished grey, always, and she was seated with a young man. They invited me over to wine and dine with them, and they happened to be filmmakers. Uh huh, I thought, and she insisted that we had to go to meet her producer, tomorrow, it could not wait, she would pick me up the next morning at 10 AM…
I looked at their website, even suspiciously, like is this for real? She didn’t even ask me what stories I held, she just had a feeling that I had good stories to share…? Okay, I thought, here we go. I hadn’t spoken to anyone since that event, but Istanbul was the moment I started contending with what really happened, and no one cares, not in mental health, no one gives a shit. I got whisked away… in a Mercedes… down a highway. The Indie director in the back was delightfully ornery and annoyed at how Americans view Turkey, and the woman director in the front seat didn’t speak a word of English. Across a bridge, we cruised over the Bosphorus, and I thought this was God. I thought it was God even in response to the Guru, even, as this was all he had to do, if he was that interested in my stories? You see? It was God, because talking about that story caused me nothing but problems, and I had been thinking then that I had wanted to go into film, and I never did, so I was dealing with regret. Like, I can’t regret my life. Is that what I really wanted to do? And this happened.
I’m going to skip ahead, but I did write the scene down, so I’ll post that next.
Long story short, this producer, very simply, thinking about the guru, says, “I’m affected.” He admits how he feels, and the thing is, if I could redo it, I would have given him a list of stories and asked him which one would interest him the most. I would have approached that slightly differently, it’s just, the Miracle Mile story is dramatic, for sure. It’s just a very American picture. In any case, I was still leading with that story, as it had been a touch too interesting to people, and that was the beginning of my life. He wanted to work on a movie bible, he wanted to give it a shot. I had a scotch in my hand. I was seated against a shelf of records, vinyl.
It ended up being lengthy. He was busier than God, he had problems with his board, projects in Europe, so I kept on pursuing him. I didn’t care. It was one of these moments, when I thought, okay, I’m not going to be that person, you have to keep pursuing. He gave me a bible to study, Stranger Things. It wasn’t always called that. That’s it — it was so easy. I didn’t expect anything, I didn’t talk about it for years, because there was nothing to talk about, and to be frank, I hate future minded thinking, my closest friend went a little mad, when a screenwriter read some pages, so I learned my lesson.
I was in Portici, Italy, by that point, a old coastal resort for the noblity and Spanish king in the 18th century, so the sidewalks are lined with mandarin trees and the town is filled with old palazzos. I had one month, he told me, to produce a movie bible, as he was going to talk to investors then, or something. The hilarity of this experience aside, watching Tarantino, and looking at Angelica Leibowitz and going, OH, Jackie Brown, he’s seeing a gangster in her, without a doubt. Tarantino was practically yelling at me — this is a gangster, Maria. I laughed. I really did, because Spielberg, he didn’t understand the problem with it being a music video? Or something? What’s the issue with scenes overlapping? Isn’t this just psychological? Something magical happened, where the deeper I descended into this month, the more I was able to let go of the actual story. I had no idea how to DESCRIBE this, looking at this movie bible, what the fuck does “cinematic mean?” In tone and voice, I didn’t know what words to use. I thought about Miracle Mile, no help from him at all whatsoever, none. No comment. About three weeks in, I saw I could do a father-daughter flick. The first idea, I mean, who cares?
I watched Ford vs Ferrari, and I thought, why is this a good movie? It’s a super tight conceit, I saw that it attracted A-listers, they had good monologues, right, and the language was specific, given the world. So they can give monologues about racing… or the circuit, whatever. Good shots. Sound design, obviously, I noticed that so I looked it up, it won an award, I could hear why.
I started thinking, let’s say my father’s innocent, which was, to be honest, a head nod, because I had to problem solve my way out of this one. Even keeping the secret dementia in mind. He’s an aerospace engineer, I used to bombard him with questions when I was four (so cute, so heartbreaking, no?) with QUESTIONS as to WHERE we were, in the universe, where am I? Our conversations were utterly hilarious, where he’s going, where are we? WHERE? I’m barking. A garage? And we continue on from there, the graph paper comes out, he’s drawing BALLS in space? SPACE! His eyes over his glasses, there’s SPACE between us, you see? He’s drawing the solar system…even elegantly. Our conversations about the inner workings of the universe, the way Nick would open his hands, “everything is alive…” are some of my warmest memories, the man had no clue I was four, so he’s trying to explain what an atom is, because WHAT IS IT? I keep asking. That’s a sweet debut. It’s not the type of debut that’s action packed, but it works, because it’s entertaining, and it’s what the movie is about… these people are going to have to come back from outer space. But to Nick, we’re already THERE. He doesn’t UNDERSTAND… stirring his adhesive, not glue, so picture a four year old “ad-hesive…” WHAT IS IT??? I’m losing it. “Glue,” he says, and I flip out!!!
I saw this movie so clearly, even if I had no idea how to do it, but I saw the universal vibe, maybe a bit pop, animated. But they’re walking back on the rings of Saturn. And I ended up liking this movie idea much more than I did Miracle Mile, not because it wasn’t a good idea, but I love transformational journies, and Nick was going to have to wake up and go through one. I ended up navigating around sensationally tough spots, but they smoothed out, and I put in different actors, even those unafraid of exploring the dark and strange. He would have had to have been manipulated in some capacity, but — Nick goes off on some work trip. Maria’s cute face is in some car, and it’s across the universe. You have a super dramatic scene right away because “six years later…” type of deal, as I thought I might have to be a bit older, the door opens to this woman’s house. She didn’t need to be Brazilian in this case. And you see, Nick’s face, and it’s clear he’s been manipulated, he’s different, he’s been in a head fuck, to have actually been in this situation? Think about it.
I did, to the Rocky soundtrack, Charles in Charge is listening to Rocky right now in my apartment. That made me laugh. I thought about it, for sure, and working on a movie left me so still, I was so still, wishing I had gotten into this industry earlier, so I could have left behind the sentiment a long time ago. I enjoyed problem-solving. So this woman has no fucking clue what she’s looking at, and this scene appeared very compelling to me.
The Indie Director back in the producer’s office in Turkey didn’t get that about me, why are you talking about it, that way? Well, I am speaking to a producer, for one, and you gotta find something to love, man. It’s a good scene. She doesn’t know if he’s a child rapist? She’s been protecting this girl for four years? Angelica, right? The real woman, she actually did this. Imagine? She invited my father over to her house to, uh, tell him it wasn’t true. Just bring me a lawyer who will break it down for you — why did she do that? She decided it wasn’t true based on a couple of lunatics. My mother bounced, no money left… she tried to drop me off, no working, because she CAN’T, really. So she — decides it’s not true because my mother was SUCH a lunatic, liar, and let a lawyer throw cards in some magic trick flying out of his sleeves. No problem.
That was a revelation for sure, in real life.
Imagine this scene? Forget what really happened, it won’t make you feel better.
I can’t totally remember when this thought came to mind, originally, it might have been in the hospital, but some version of my father erupted into existence — went apeshit!! Accused of being a child rapist??? That didn’t happen, and I cried, it wasn’t the easiest moment. But that’s where we would be going. He would have to wake up… I didn’t know what to say about the dementia, it felt like a touch too much, but this conversation between them will explode, it will take the space, even teeter on an edge, as she’ll be chopping vegetables, something, something gory, with a big knife. So once dad gives some sensational monologue in the middle of some house, I began to see myself as a child, because I would have gotten behind that person, even if we would not be able to even deal with one another. Something about sense, you know, and my father was a weird guy, so an actor could interpret as he so desired. We would leave though. And NOW, there’s a business manager from Iran, okay? Who has taken over this man’s house. We gotta confront Dr. J now. So across La Cienega, that no man’s stretch, with the oil rigs, and you have to understand, my father was one of the brink of 70, he’s in his seventies, we’re fighting, talking, dunno, about THIS. Jesus. It’s flexible as a story, but he has to look AMAZING for his age, so he could be played by a younger or older actor, depending on how that would go, as I’m not married to the real details.
The next scene would have to be equally tense, dramatic, as the business manager might refuse to leave, actually, and if I had back up like this, I might have very well attacked Dr. J — for real, and my character? She’s definitely out of the box, she’s definitely going to throw a chair, you see, she’s going to throw shit. And the father is going to have to be shocked, no? The joke is, he has to hold her back, more than once. I figured I’d slap her tits and launch for her face. (She might be a comedian, something.) YEAH, I would have, for sure — a sex scandal? You know? If it’s not true, HELLO? Bring me Mark Wahlberg, the man, and let him — handle it. Ridiculous.
I don’t know what happens next because there’s a number of directions to go in, do the cops come, does Nick has a goddamn ice pack on his eye, are the cops are impressed with Maria, if Dr. J’s being taken away. Did she engage in illegal activity, I don’t know this part. But then, we have to undo everything she did in the house, the mirrors being smashed off the walls, we probably fight, and he takes her to IKEA, it just opened. Maria tries to pick out her room. Nick freaks out, “this is my house, my money…” so he’s in charge, so he’ll collapse on an IKEA bed, so perfect, and hear his father. A nice comedic, um, moment. He has to wake up, he’s going to go on a transformational journey, but that’s what I began to envision… that was the only way. He had to wake up… he had to… go through an extraordinary journey.
So I was able to just let go of what really happened, but that took about three weeks. I broke the barrier between Dr. J and me, right? This film producer gave me A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints, thinking I might — what? — be called — what? — by Dr. J at the end of her life. Oh, you don’t understand. That hit me in the face. It was inconceivable. Never going to happen. So I ended up cracking through it, seeing some spy movie version of the Royal Tenenbaums, where Dr. J has 14,000 children, even, something absurd, where my character and Dr. J are going to fist fight. Dr. J is — lethal. She’s lying about x, y, z, who cares? She’s, you know, a wild card with an organization, sure. Right? I saw, a Jerry Maguire version, where I literally go to the Pentagon and get a spy, okay? Because if Dr. J calls me? These people — her business manager and my mother — told me that they were working for “the government,” essentially, so I going to get a fucking spy, okay? Seriously. I’m getting a REAL SPY! Because she called — and this spy and I fall in love so immediately, it’s crazy. It’s done. We’re in it…together. This is not the issue. He’s going to have to help me through this, we’re planning for the future. And I don’t know from there. I just ended up having a bunch of ideas about her, but that took three weeks, and I couldn’t get hold of him, I didn’t think this was the best way to tackle this exercise, as I might have needed some time to just do what I did. You live and learn. I love this guy, he became a real friend. Giving me ONE MONTH ONE DESIRE was a good move, because I threw one, two, three movie bibles at him, because I thought, like any piece of writing, I was going to emerge — so one, two, three, I had never even designed anything. So finally, at three, I took a step back. The first two looked like child’s play. If he had time, he would have taken a quick look, to think about the images and colors. But everytime I sent it, I said, okay, I’m doing it again. Which would have been the right answer. That’s what the character of this film producer would have been hoping. Of course. Finally I get to a workable document.
I liked the wise producer, or something. This person is going to send me — one, two, three, straight out of the gate. BOOM, boom, boom.
I took a breather. One month and a week or two. Okay, that’s a start. I had to stop. I did a manifestation workshop, even, sure, for shits.
But then, as I was working the synopsis, I came up with this father/daughter picture. It’s very simple to explain, a father and daughter get caught up in a sex scandal, and they spend a movie coming back from outer space. And it’s all about the dad. In the end, Nick, he’s going to come to find that life could be different… whatever that means… I saw a bunch of male actors, which changed the picture, but Jim Carrey, I saw, in the end, as I had an idea that they end up taking on Hollywood. In reality, when I was a girl, I wanted to be an actress. I imagined the taillights of the Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme — he comes to a halt. “What?” And he ends up being discovered, something, right? “At my age?” He’s surprised. I was in an acting class with adults when I was a preteen in Hollywood. Us watching the tapes of our scenes, “call back,” my teacher said, “yeah,” everyone was so invested in one another. “Yeah you got it.” I was maneuvering a plane in platforms from Payless and a mini skirt.
I was trying to pull from my actual experience. I don’t know if that’s the way to go, but I felt so moved by the idea of taking my relationship with my father and giving this man…this version… a real chance to shine, and if he’s not the most likeable character, that’s even better, because he has somewhere to go. It’s a real mess. He can flip out. He can be in a fit of tears. These people went through the ringer, and of course, Maria is not going to like you, imagine? A Black British doctor telling him that? In Inglewood? Dr. Ibrahimi? Why? Why would she like you? I mean, absurd. I just saw so much humor and heartbreak in it, so many opportunities, as kids are at the pediatrician a lot. I was thinking about the scene where I interview one of Dr. J’s lovers in platforms from Payless, when I’m ten, but make me twelve, if you want.
Now, I saw a father in the mix, he walked through the front door of the condo with a long corridor. I left my pink cardigan in the car even, as pink = girl to Nick. I thought, isn’t that contrived? And the character of my father told me to stop, just stop. People leave their jackets. Okay. So the idea spoke back to me. He overhears this conversation. “So you fucked her?” I asked this guy, Fat Alan. I saw this father bursting into the room, like WHAT and WHAT and WHAT? “Do you want rum cake, even?” Angelica offering him rum cake? Good scene. What was I supposed to do? Cry and wallow? Why was it problematic that I saw these as good scenes? So once this father hears — as he’s disturbed, okay? — “psychological experiment,” one more TIME, he’s going to blow, close his eyes, that’s Jim Carrey in Eternal Sunshine, not able to… my psychological experiments are INSANE. INSANE. Maybe they go to therapy. Something.
As I was starting to conceive it, I didn’t know what to do, because I had never written a movie before, and this one felt complicated, not my first one, maybe, and so dependent on WHO was playing this character. Do we go abroad? Or do we keep it tight, on LA. Didn’t know. But I liked it.
Right now, I suppose I’d keep it tight on LA, but I don’t know, I even heard a narrator, “Nick wakes up at 5 AM…” he loved to travel, “Nick leaves the house for LAX before dawn,” picturing Ben Stiller running into a cab with his suit bag and eagerly diffusing instructions on how to get to the airport, just stupid. He was a nerd, an aerospace engineer. But we used to watch the planes come in for a landing at sunset, there were strong images that felt like a good picture, to me. A tearjerker. It’s really all about Nick, though the girl who would have to be like Natalie Portman, a gifted girl. She would have to sort of be hot, too, awkward about it, like Dr. J had a nice body, so she’s gotta have that vibe. Uncomfortable. But platforms from Playless. A funny pair. We always drew attention, mostly because I was in charge, I think.
I woke up thinking about that idea this morning as it brings me so much joy. Just having an idea about a father-daughter picture that could take the space, emotionally, that could be heartbreaking because of their ages, what they have to go through, and all that drama would be positive. Just take it off my literal person. I’m just channeling my experience into a movie, so it’s easier to give him a great scene where he’s just crying with the LA headlights hitting his face down a dark road, Nick, right? With our terrible fights, he gets a chance at redemption, to Neil Young, Harvest Moon, because they’re going to make it through. Nick is going to have to become a better man, he’s going to have to become a father, and make fathers laugh at what that looks like. He might become Ron, Courtney’s father, lol, in a bath robe, smiling and nodding at his daughter, right? No, that’s it. He might “look the part,” now, whatever that means to him. Women might want to date him, or something, and I’m laughing. He might have to embrace this new person he’s becoming, and I guess, himself. I saw Jim Carrey at the end, sort of broken, happy, as he pushes MASK, a successful actor in cool sunglasses (ha, in that direction) but it was more his mask. He didn’t have to change, he changed, but he didn’t not have to be strange, hard to describe as my father was a weird guy. He’s going to find whatever it was he was looking for, even if he had no idea…what that was… he’s going to understand later on in life, that life could be different… that God might have even loved him, it’s hard to explain, that there was some gift in it, getting here.
So a touching feature.
I definitely wasn’t looking for a father, wasn’t looking to be close, to be frank with you, but that’s the space to cross. Across the universe. But when I watched Ford vs Ferrari, I thought, oh, that’s a good movie idea, because it has a specificity to it. He’s an aerospace engineer, awww how cute, his daughter is hilarious and barking questions at him, he’s gotta explain the universe to her, gets annoyed, but doesn’t see she’s four, but maybe she’s smart, I don’t know, but “THE SUN,” you see? He gets more and more into this frustration — he’s showing how propellers spin, sort of tickled by it, as Nick could get tickled. He could have thoughts, monologues, directed toward the stars. I mean, I thought it was a cohesive film idea. He’s a mechanical engineer, so “gears turn…” They’re coming back from outer space, that’s pretty clear, a director could play with that, easy. They’re getting to know one another, Maria’s been gone for years in platforms from Payless. Even the church pictures we took, lol. My father liked getting his picture taken, and I didn’t. I couldn’t even believe him in brown lipstick and a bra I didn’t need to wear yet… so I thought that was all a really solid idea, and I watched May December, like, what are you supposed to do with the tension that exists, it’s just there, you know?
That’s my thought this morning. I have to spend a little more time on my Miracle Mile bible, because all I did, and I took it as a bit of challenge, was study this Stranger Things show bible. I don’t know how it works, either, obviously, but I figured you’d want a scene, no? A script, a scene from a script, and sure, this movie bible, and a synopsis. This movie producer — not involved at all. I was looking at Stranger Things, looking at the images, and I thought, okay, some of my images aren’t working. They aren’t communicating emotion, style, something. I can’t explain it, but I think I gave myself space and time to think about it. In Portici, I realized that the movie bible was a book, so I thought, CD case!!!! I thought you might want Celine Dion in the bible, she’s there, just because we’re at that level of drama and comedy— her face, “My Heart Will Go On,” though we’re not in that era. Think a Brazilian Jewish family of 8 people with a tennis instructor charging across the grass to save this 7th baby… to that song. That’s basically what it is, her children SNAPPING at her — YOU ARE SAFE! MOM! In my heart and! — just because the mix of them was truly funny. Angelica would even laugh at that — the mini van speeding to get MARIA to Celine Dion — Jose Leibowitz is going to have to pull some pro move out the car… he’s so annoyed. And then, he’s reciting Jewish prayers offkey, lol. I’m a Catholic baby, it’s too funny, who hates the Catholics. I speak of it openly, I’m clearly going through confusion, rejecting it!!!
It didn’t end up working out with these Turkish producers, but come on, they weren’t going to get it. That’s fine. They never mentioned it, even, so we just became friends, and we had lovely dinners together, but I didn’t care that much. I wasn’t at the MOVIE IN THE THEATER, as my former friend projected himself as an actor in a MOVIE before I had even finished a book…about Italians… and he couldn’t be further from Italian. That’s not how I operate, I ain’t saying shit, to nobody, literally nobody, until I can —me — physically buy a ticket, that’s all I’m saying, so fuck you. UNTIL I CAN walk into a movie theater and see it, you will hear NOTHING from me. I have a gun, Barbara Harris behind me. You think I don’t know that projects fall through every 2 seconds? That’s what I heard? That this takes YEARS unless you’re Eat, Pray, Love, with a mega-successful book so that gets done within FOUR YEARS of publication? Actors have schedules. Everyone has schedules. You could be slated to go, and then, nah, it’s over, right? We’re going with this film instead? So I’m not THERE, I might have dreams, but I’m just here, step one. But I would love to turn some of this into films. That’s the direction I’d like to go in. I thought about it this morning. I just don’t know how to go about doing it.
I thought about reaching out to a production company, like I’m reaching out to Performa, so I can see if I can help them out, as I’m interested in performance. I even reached out to the Clooney Foundation, because I thought, they’re nice people, who do good things in the world. I took an energy workshop to help me through a mess, and Jeffrey Allen suggested picking some role models, and I never thought of it, and Amal Clooney, I’m not a fan, as I can’t stand when someone becomes unreal, I can’t take it, actually, but she was, in a sense, what my mother wanted to be. She’s a lawyer with ambition, a fashionista, and someone who would never ever do this to her child, so she was an easy person to see out there and laugh. A genius, Dr. J, looking at her —looking nice, simply, and teaching at Oxford. Clooney could have played a version of my father, sure. So I thought, I care about social justice, so I’ll toss myself out there, who knows? Need help with copy? Maybe I should reach out to a production company, too. It’s just, how weird to just randomly reach out to someone, but Cher did. Do I send the bible? Do I just introduce myself?
I’m thinking about that this morning. I’m not so much a fan of sitting there and meditating hoping that — Matt Damon appears at my door, confused, even. “I had a dream…” and we end up having coffee, simply, at the Chelsea Hotel. I made it with cardamom even, to give the illustrious man something a little different. He’s a good sport, funny, so sure, he’s a lovely guy who enjoys cardamom, sure. It doesn’t MATTER if he really does. There’s NO coffee, NO cardamom, it’s a goddamn scene. It’s just the meditation routine was a touch too much. I said that yesterday at an open mic, like, “anyone manifesting? When did manifesting become… a problem? What happened to doing something?” I don’t know. “I, too, look, want to manifest 600k from a PDF, of course I do. How to clip your toenails.” Something so banal that I’d be invited onto the Bezos boat, cracking up with these people, at how much money I made from a single PDF, amazing no? Millions, how to quit smoking, sure.
Anyway, I had a down day the other day, I also got a throat infection, so that’s why, so I’ll definitely be brings wipes to these open mics, lol, okay? I feel better today, just salt water, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter if I don’t think I’m funny, I’ve been working on it too much, I always find this joy return — I gotta get back up there. Except, me, with a throat infection, and it seems pretty stupid, in that, all I had to do was gargle, but I am trying to sing again, so I wanted to skin someone.
We don’t need to discuss it, back to Matt Damon, delighted and confused to be in Virgil Thomson’s old apartment, we can take it step by step.
But yes, I was told that I had an interesting story idea (lol) just cracking up at the thought of it. Just because, some people could act like it was SO crazy unusual. My friend had stars in his eyes as if my story was that urgent, even, like a screenwriter had the power to — make the moneymen fork over millions of dollars for some CHICK with a story? I could play a Hollywood moneyman, keeping the CASH to myself, counting it, “who gives a SHIT about some GIRL with a story?” Ohhhh, picturing Streep imitating my mother, aahhhhh, time to go apeshit. Like people were going to FLIP out, the second they heard it, which was bizarre. It was just, when I thought back to this guru, that was the easiest move to make, if he was THAT interested in that story. Don’t even give me talk about his INTEREST in me, just please. At the end of a whole ordeal, I ended up in a car — where I simply had a meeting with a producer in Turkey, who said, sure, we can continue the conversation… ? And I had the best most thrilling ride.
I don’t know how to write a movie, but I could turn the Barbara Harris time into a script, pretty much as is, as that’s what it was, even if that was a special feature that was educational, even, about storytelling and acting.
So it must be like anything else, it’s who you know, and I know no one, which I’m fine with, but I don’t know what move I should make. What to have ready. I’ll try looking it up. Should I reach out to a production company? Or, am I supposed to present a few pages of a script to an agent? I might think about, someone I could contact, someone who would know what to do. There are people in NY with production companies, I just don’t know how to do this appropriately, or how to introduce myself and with what? So maybe I can find someone I can talk to. I might look up stories about people who got films made.
“Diablo Cody was a blogger and book author. Then she wrote her first screenplay Juno and sold it within a year of being contacted by a talent manager/producer.”
Okay, so I could get contacted—cool, please, do so.
I see that people worked on a script. They completed a script and sold it.
Okay, well, I’ll keep blogging, and I’ll think about writing a script…
So I’ll read scripts.
I mean, I guess I could just complete Barbara Harris script. Just because it’s practically already there. I’ll read Oppenheimer even, as it’s a first-person script. Maybe that would be interesting as it’s “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” of film. You might just learn something… okay, I can do that. I can work on scenes, even post them. That’s not hard. Even this open mic circuit I’m doing… it’s funny, no? A TV show? Me going around to open mics and telling people I was in a sex scandal… I thought so. I would have to record some of these comedian’s routines, but I can worry about that later, a Mexican sounding Osama Bin Laden, people who aren’t funny, which could be funny, and I’m not saying I am always funny, or even funny, and I’m super straight, I would never steal. Just me… coming back to NYC… starting over, so deeply. That’s what I’m thinking about today. Comedians saved my purse from a homeless man… as I went running into a car, and it dropped, and I flipped out around the corner and went RUNNING — and they had it, looked through it, joked around, gave the homeless guy a 20, no? Okay. Good op to meet someone. I met someone funny, like Rodney Dangerfield. Rodney’s seems to be the place, right now, as well as the spot next to the Producer’s Club.
I heard that if you do a certain number of open mics there, you can get a show, so maybe I’ll call them today, call these spots, and just get some information about how that functions. Again, I haven’t gotten the impression that I’m bad, I’m crazy, nothing. Just a girl who — every time — has to go through a production to get to that line. Like someone I knew started laughing, a little, when I asked the audience, as I’ve seen him before, “do you have a crazy family? Anyone relate?”
I’m trying to not be someone who needs to dunk their head in a bucket of ice water at the idea of doing a show, but that’s the idea. I have to get there, but maybe it’s time to get there. I’ve met so many people who do shows, it’s silly, it’s not that hard, but I don’t know what to do yet. Should I do something experimental? Like I will put on some She’s All That performance art, with a hackey sack, and I emerge through images of the universe. “I was in a sex scandal…” reverb. “Remember She’s All That? Forget the sex scandal. Everyone’s counting on you Zack, don’t fuck up Zack. Gotta get to Harvard Zack. Don’t let the ball drop Zack, the blood sweat and tears, the performance community SEES the art in it. “This is society, right, that’s what we’re TALKING about, and I was a freak of it, I was in a sex scandal…when I was four…” so I don’t know what to do on that end, but if I just go to the same club a bunch of times, however number of times I need to, I might be able to workshop it.
It’s me and the aliens. I came from a totally alien situation, in an Italian accent. I can SPEAK like a foreigner, no? Some strange person. So I’ll do that today, I’ll contact comedy clubs and see how I can get a show. It’s very simple, “I was in a sex scandal, my brother told me he was giving AIDS to people.” And I bust through a cardboard wall — on the phone with my sister — GO! Get this mother fucker! GO GO GO — FLIPPING OUT. WHAT? AIDS? GIVING AIDS TO PEOPLE FOR TEN YEARS?????? I flip over a stupid table, get all dramatic. “Go ahead,” to my brother, “go ahead, tell the people about the, uh, dog bite…” it’s not manslaughter, you see, that’s not going to “perk up the ears” of the police in some states, “what?” And then, they’re going to have to calm me down, they’re going to have to help me talk… be real. Be real. My family? They could alert the real people, you see, the police. I don’t know the logistics, any of that, but ten years? That’s a lot of AIDS. Or, HIV, since this man didn’t know what he had. You know when people say “is there anything real anymore? Nothing is real…” even airy about it, the second the COPS show up, that’s real talk. It gets real pretty quickly. You don’t want the cops…getting involved.
I needed these people. I needed lawyers. I was in a goddamn sex scandal when I was four, getting fidgety in my chair, needing to walk away and sulk even, as I am not a real person, I’m retarded. I’m basically retarded. I need to be reminded to eat, I need someone to sit with me while I eat. I might do something stupid. I need to learn how to pick up a cup, drink water, go ahead, parents have to PLAY with them, no? Time to eat, yum yum. Don’t poke it. Eat it. They tell these children stories, something, ask them question, keep them engaged. Not the time to introduce sex, it’s simply not the time. But to my mother, the time had come a while ago… hmmm??
I’ll think about a script, yeah, I’ll start to read scripts too. Barbara Harris is just easy, it’s not, but I can get a formatted scene up soon. Then, I might actually skid over to Miracle Mile, as that’s pretty straightforward, I think. I’ll watch Little Miss Sunshine for the opener to read what that looks like, as she drives over to pick up my spirit animal. That pink shirt was everything. I’ll try to go through the opener of her dancing to Julio Iglesias on her way, to her seeing me, to the conversation with my mother, to the musical car ride chase to Barbara Streisand I am a Woman in Love, to that first scene under her plum tree. I’ll just take it from the top. I did write a scene breakdown for that producer, even if it wasn’t correct, I really did try to go scene by scene, as I’d never written a movie. I just didn’t know in which direction to take it, if the father has to know, in the beginning, if she sort of keeps it a secret, these details, but since they’re going to adopt her, try, in the end, because there’s no other end, it affects how that story goes… the father became central, obviously, though her real husband — shrug, I have no idea what was going on there. But he’s there. Even if he works constantly. He’s going to have to be the straight man, so to speak, the person who has to pull his family together as this spins out of control, his marriage will almost collapse. It’s going to get — dicey. She drops Maria off, sure, ain’t nobody touching her marriage, you see, she has one of these enviable marriages, even. It’s not happening. So sure, she loses her mind, he’s like — where is she? You what? Just this moment. Him hearing that she invited him over? What? You did what? Tight shot. “You said WHAT?”
Barbara Harris appears…inside this story saying “you said WHAT?” Losing it.
In all honesty, I saw Matt Damon pointing down, “is this house? In this family?” Something like that, I thought, sure sure sure, that’s what you want. And then, they gotta pick her up, I mean, it was more than once. It was such a mess. And they’re dealing with sexual abuse? YUCK! Oh my God!!! These kids in sports gear. They could even do some epic rescue where the BLOND is spinning the soccer ball in slow motion — and this family is showing up — to kick ass, for real. You don’t understand, these were pros, so I would be careful. If they had to — they would have kicked your ass with this hot Brazilian mother mesmerizing you… to move… ohhhh, soccer ball—in your face. There’s a lot of possibility there, as we’re skidding into a real issue, which is, the reality that I might have been abused, again, even, in that system. I just don’t KNOW what they would have done in my case, I mean, social services. I don’t know if they could have adopted me, or what that COULD look like. I saw a court room scene.
I suppose it works to my advantage that everyone would know, it’s about a sex scandal, so I could probably approach it with that in mind. But it doesn’t matter, I would have to write the scene regardless. Luckily, I don’t need to give commentary. I could just move the scene. And it will be adjusted.
But maybe, maybe she begins with the lambada in her angel voice in her holy white bedroom, something, touches of rainbow somewhere, “now he’s gone away,” because this film has to be thrilling, really— these people actually went through this, even if it’s dramatized. It’s super dynamic with a family that operates like a team of pro athletes with a uh, astrology prodigy, airy fairy, Nicole, though she must play tennis, there is no way you cannot not play tennis UNLESS you pick another sport, which the middle girls did — soccer, pro, the blond is lethal, the brunette is maybe the truly talented one. It’s just they both went pro, so I don’t know what that means. They weren’t like that. But it’s AMAZING what we communicate, don’t we? She’s going to become the lesbian, which Angelica will have a really hard time with. I didn’t like that. But good stuff, complications to tease out, to give these two parents even MORE to deal with, this is the point. She’s whipping up rum cakes for the city of LA, constantly, she’s dancing SEXY regardless, you just want to be around her, as she’s clapping and dancing as her children WANT SOMETHING — what? She snaps. Jose, he needs to take a step back. He needs… gear. Okay? She doesn’t GIVE a shit, not when she’s dancing. These parents couldn’t have more children, you see, MORE visitors, more parties, as she threw the best parties, so they’re either setting up, or breaking down a party. And now me, I might pull something, yes, JOSE is ready, I might flip out, try to run away… a seventh child.
Now there’s a wild baby on the loose, pushing open doors, even impressively—JOSE — needing to launch into action. WHERE the father was, for real, I don’t know, he was always working. Was 11k, was it really never enough? Be real. It’s not a SMALL amount of money, type deal.
I put an image of St. Elmo’s Fire, the Breakfast Club, in my movie bible as the poster image inspiration and an idea as to the type of humor we’re dealing with. Sure, there’s Michelle laying down like Molly Ringwald. It’s a large group people, an ensemble, that goes through a sex scandal with a four year old. They will adopt her, I think, in the end, though that will get really really real. That’s the idea. This is about reality, too. I watched Immensita, with Cruz, and there were images I used, because she’s going to go through a whole emotional breakdown. There were moments in it, like when she burned down the house, that were so real that it looked unreal. Heavenly Creatures was another reference, a blend of styles, with Nicole and Maria in the backyard. Kate Winslet could be a reference for Dr. J as she played a real person. There she is, in fairytale garb, brightly over the top now take it to CARTOON. I’m keeping her character page as is, I don’t care, because it’s truly compelling, I believe.
But it’s supposed to be about the lambada, isn’t it? It’s the closest thing you can do to sex with your clothes on, so it’s even moving. That’s what we’re dancing regardless of the song… so, Ford versus Ferrari had a narrator, they didn’t care, in the beginning and the end. So maybe I’ll start there, a four year old taking in the song with a woman who could be Jackie Brown, also. She’s not white. I snapped, this is sad… I suppose I could do clips of the story to come, as a debut, clips at a family party, the cops, “why is everyone so happy?”
“OH that’s not the point,” she said, “it’s the point, it’s love… because it’s a love song… “One day…” she concludes, “he’ll remember a love he couldn’t care for…”
It was 1989, the year that the lambada took the world by storm, but we have to get there first, so this mother turns it up on the streets of LA…maybe in the bedroom too. I don’t know. Julio Iglesias… Me Va Me Va… and this is where she’s dancing, in her room too, with a Little Miss Sunshine debut. Her house is waking up, and she’s dancing sexy regardless of where she is…just Jose whipping his racket, the girls kicking soccer balls, Nicole studying them… looking down at her astrology book. “Gemini…” at her fucking annoying older brother, the only boy in a sea of women. The father. So you get a sense of who they are… she’s gotta go, pick up this tax return, something. And her marriage to her husband is practically inspirational, as her true sexual desire for him was — next level. Truly. I laughed at her. It was inspirational, even.
And she drives over, but Little Miss Sunshine has a beginning with clips of all the characters, she’s on the ride, going over… so I can work on those sets of scenes, as that’s more than one. Weird music, Dr. J. Strangely funny. What is this? Tea cup sets. A very cute baby, this baby has to be ridiculously cute. I can’t help that, Angelica said I was the cutest baby she’d ever seen. Imagine this hilarious couple? “Should we try gymnastics?” Just because this chases across the house… were amazing. And just, give her a second, who gives a shit about the politeness? Leave her be. I barked at people. So in any case, I thought, oh she has the potential to go pro, tennis, because she flips out at her first tennis lesson, and I did, because the instructor sang me a love song, and that— it’s a scene. I threw a fit and launched my racket across the court. My instructor, I remember him, he was enamoured, at how far I chucked that racket as this silly woman, who’s hot, sure, is saying sorry. “That’s a good backhand…” he just stepped back and watchedme run, good speed, to the other side of the court. Jose bursts onto the court. Angelica and Jose tried to get me…to “get over there.” Not happening. He just stepped away from them, he wasn’t on their side. He saw Opens in my future. So I thought, maybe that’s a supporting character, something, just because, they have to take her in… she has to become one of them… so maybe she’s… cute and angry.
It could be the Beverly Hills Tennis Club, shrug, sure. Mountaingate was where you traine, so we were there, this happened at Mountain Gate. My flip out. I was thinking there’s so much going on, you see, already, but I don’t have a sense of that yet, as I never wrote a movie. Maybe I should keep it as tight on the house. Like the kids are coming and going from practice, meets, we all were, but we don’t see them. There’s school, you see, and Nicole and I will end up going to the same school, a year into it, so we can facilitate the arrangement. It’s sordid, for sure, when I was conceiving of this movie, I had to gasp, because looking at my parents, I had no idea what I’m looking at. They look like cartoons. I suppose it’s like anything else, you write scenes, and some of them don’t make it in. So I’ll move into that phase. I’m not doing anything today, and I don’t want to go out with a throat thing, though it’s basically gone, and I’ll spend some time with scripts.
This is where I don’t know how screenwriters think. I know that it’s a longer movie, though it’s still tight, it has to move — this has to feel like a match, where they’re running in, he’s picking up babies, she’s doing something else, they have to be on the edge. I’ll watch Royal Tenebaums again, something, as that has a cast of characters, you just have to imagine Gwenyth Paltrows face… in the foreground… just staring into the void… right? Ben Stiller becoming a guardian through this, truly, at sixteen, sure, as he’s my guardian, in the end. He has some child who’s attached to him, now. I thought that was funny. I might be a star player, or I might be a dancer, I don’t know that part, yet. But the parties, I think, or the music is a cue into the next section, because it’s all about the lambada, I think that makes sense. But depending on which song is on, the dance changes, like Nicole puts on “Building Up A Mystery” at a family party, and that became everything. Jose will rise a jerk, “I come out of night,” which he did, but that’s where the darkness comes in… things start to turn, and the dance becomes mysterious. It has to. So it’s the lambada regardless, but the song will inform how you feel about it, just the spinning, it spun out of control.
I know why I see a blond father. Oh, of course, because she’s Nina from the Forbidden Dance. I had a blond Jew in my head, what? Why? Do they exist? They do. But it was to make reference to Jason, the rich white guy who falls in love with her, and the dance. And sure, go to town, this couple. But that’s home. There’s so many rooms, they hold Jewish prayers, JOSE is off key. I did not laugh, I withheld. I was very interested in all this. I hated the Catholics, so it was nice to meet another religion, if you would.
I have a WASH of what the movie is, or what it could be with a father who has to grab hold of the wheel… in the end… I even saw Will Ferrell going “OH MY GOD!!” Just exploding. “WOW.” Because it only gets worse. Just picturing, JOSE — running to help his mom — and there’s my mom, Dr. J, topless… whoa.
So shit’s getting real.
Imagine the family meeting after that? Jose is now a guardian, okay? He has points of view, as a kid who became a guardian. And a story like this, it could have been on the news, no? Depending. So, picturing the husband… “is that a helicopter?” But — cue St. Elmo’s Fire — they’re going to get through, the marriage will be saved, the husband will deliver the Mcconaughey monologue… and they’ll get through with a seventh child… and the husband will deliver the line, about “it being unexpected, but…” never knew that, right? It could happen like that… but it can happen to you… the unbelievable can, happen to you, and they’re a family, and she has to stay… and then, I see the end being back at the party, no? I think it should end there.
Maybe a “this is how I met my family…” type of feel. And then “there’s me…” an eight year old? And that’s it. I have no space to contemplate the reality of it, if you would, as that, at this point, doesn’t help me. That’s the story of this 7th Heaven. A TV show. A family you would follow, I think. A hilarious group of people, Brazilian and Jewish, just picture Ben Stiller clapping, really really showing us why Norton cast his as the sexy Rabi — lol — as Jose Lieberman. Sorry, I mean Jose Leibowitz. I can’t divorce them from their names, you see. Imagine, I said that, to the Jews at the open mic. “Look, imagine if your name was José?”
But there’s real joy, there’s real sorrow, because of their mix, and it gives plenty of opportunites for actors to say deep shit. It’s an interesting cultural mix, family who could get through anything, just picturing them taking OFF — because oh shit, you can’t drop Maria off at home… she’s in strange dangers… and yet, no one gives a shit, you see? No one is responding to Angelica needing to pick my ass up, okay? Just picture the father, hand on his forehead, taking a real moment in some awkward angle, like, wtf? That was ME, in the end. WHY are my parents ACTING like this????
I’m just saying, writing a movie — after my terrible dark night — illuminated these factoids. Was my father guilty OR deranged? Hello? Earth to Nick? In the style of Zoolander driving a tiny wheel, even, down the boulevard. It doesn’t make sense. SO — that aside, this father in this conceit, FLIPPING OUT, who gives a shit, in which direction? He became the eyes of awareness through this for me, like WHY are you being DROPPED OFF? What is HAPPENING?! Like, I was charging across La Tijera Shopping Center and why not, show the audience what it could be, Escalades, to get to the Sheriff’s Office, like THERE SHE IS — running in socks — and they have to turn around, you see, at Bank of America, and holy shit! It’s the businss manager… who the fuck is that??? Angelica is FLIPPING OUT. And JOSE has to — run across the La Tijera Shopping Center as Nicole says “Gemini…” as he’s “wind,” and I’m “fire,” and that makes sense to Nicole right there. I’m blazing across the shopping center, ducked, with some random GIRL — now… that they will have to drop off. Right? Angelica is snapping at ME, hot, in Portugese. She’s tapping her temple, do not go in that door. No? Man, that day, that real day.
These assholes—my mother, her stupid business manager? I got home that afternoon, and they were A BIT NICER, and I had to call Angelica. And where’s my father? Fart, whoopee cushion. Even Angelica dropping off, dropping me off for some weird ass Christmas party where I didn’t see my parents all evening, Dr. J is DYING in a bed? I figured the father would get NEWS of that, later. I wasn’t conscious, you guys, so I don’t know what THAT would have been, I’m going to have to probably do research, like do kids come to realize — what went on? I say that, because this specialist told me I might not have known what was going on. So, UH, when you SEE the movie, I want to throw it in my friend’s faces — what the fuck are you going to think? Are we going to have to cringe, as a family, and hold one another, because I need to be EXAMINED? Just PLEASE! PLEASE!
I’m seeing my second surrogate mother’s EYES — totally terrified.
But so be it, no? If that’s what this awful situation would require, I say — go for it. Because it fucking sucks, it really does. What happens to kids. But to a Jew? Be real. Be real. We’re going to get through it, that’s basically it. Okay? Let’s remember the Holocaust, if you want to remember crazy shit. She’s probably clapping, no? Just supporting him, she’s Brazilian, they’ve been through all sorts of shit. A lot cultures have, they’ve been through war, slavery (???), bloodbaths, rape, I mean. (Clooney?) I watched a movie about Japan and China? Holy shit. People just shot in the snow like animals. The Cambodians massacred the Thai, really. So that all works.
It all works, somehow, and we’re dancing regardless… this family was considered to be a real miracle. Just to say. And in the end, for the moment, I thought, ohhhh, shit, here’s where I gotta get real with myself, but I never cried, I never asked to go home, right? I thought, in the end, with the rainbows around, as that’s a central image, the crystal chandelier cast rainbows across the foyer… that she would break like Tom Cruise does in The Day After Tomorrow. That she would regard them, dancing, and just have a real moment… it was pretty epic, touching, hilarious, and real… they went through A LOT.
Like everyone’s going to need a second after the trial, I guess, but they were people who knew how to grieve, they were devoted to one another, so if they all needed to grieve, that’s what they’d do. Like, when Anthony died, the husband, which he did, at the end, they were a giant mess. Angelica laid there, as her kids just grieved on her, they just cried on her, literally, and she just received it. Nicole went into the bathroom, locked herself in, but that’s what the scene was. Grief. I stood at the doorway, as my father had driven me over, so I could hold space for them.
I don’t know why I was so bad, to be frank, I don’t know why she’s still a bitch to me, I really don’t. I don’t even want to call her again, to be frank, because “we had fun,” was a strange note to strike,when I said I was in the hospital because I didn’t know if it was true about my father? FUN? Uh huh. BUT EVERYONE responded so fucking strangely as if I didn’t say that, so that wasn’t helpful, useful, or kind. I don’t want to open this up again, so I’m just deciding what I’d like to do, as I’m terrified…
So I’m going to see if I can download Little Miss Sunshine and read that first scene. It’s the same thing with Barbara Harris. Where do I begin? Evidently, if you know me, know the story, I don’t need to provide background, necessarily, as to why I’m there. So do I start at my ex’s — where I first hear about her? And take it from there? Yeah, maybe, I grazed a lot, it’s true, from these clippings, but I was also speaking with a fairytale character, about her. The slytherin. I’m not giving away my operation, this man didn’t even know me, but evidently I was affected. Harris was probably just as complex in terms of all the layers. But I got to her… I knew fame might be treacherous territory… it’s not so much about him, but more so the mystique around her. I’ll take it from there… because do I begin later on in the story? So I can reference back to it, like I’m speaking to her last remaining relative, who provides me more information about her family, and her mental illness? I didn’t talk to anyone until after she died. Should I set that up before going into the trip…so the audience understands she’s — a perculiar case, a genius who has mental problems…? I don’t know much, as I didn’t interview anyone until later, but I get the picture beforehand… and I have moments of being affected, obviously. Again treacherous territory, she could take things on, even, she told me that her doctor said she reminded him of his mother…
But going into that, I’m washing away, everything… I meditated even, this exchange with her was as agendaless as possible, I’m consciously doing that, I’m just trying to be there.
I don’t see much backstory, but I’ll play around with those beginning scenes later, maybe. I could just start with the four days, since I have dialogue, just be in the thing, and see what happens, as the night sky and the universal imagery over an oceanic parking lot is solid. I hear Nico, I hear “Soldier of Love,” which would be the place to start, in a sense, if you know who she is, since that song came on — blasting through a bar — as I waited to meet her. She pulls into the lot. I laughed. I hear “Let My Love Open the Door,” as that’s the point, “love is the key that opens every door…” it’s the first thing she said in Second City, though “confidence comes from belonging” is her life sentence… “Tenderness” from Clueless. "Werewolves of London,” Warren Zevon. I could at least try to get AJs together, as that’s sort of important, right? Just our conversation.
I’m not supposed to talk, no? I’m not supposed to have to explain anything…with a script. But I’ll read Oppenheimer, if I can download it, to see how the first-person narrative is used, so maybe I could include some of that, right? I already feel myself performing, but there was no performance, in a sense. But I will see. I’m the straight man, basically. I had my moments, like I’m going to have to craft this, but AJs is pretty good. The whole thing. I’ll figure it out, as the “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” of film. I’m laughing. I thought, if this ends up being considered, and I’m graining back, like an important piece of art, or something, it will really tickle me, because I got the impression that real life might become art. It’s the whole thing, the clear blue sky, the parking lots, the inky night, she had real range. Us stargazing, so sweet and perfect.
So that’s what I’m going to do today, I’m going to download Oppenheimer and Little Miss Sunshine and I’m going to read them and then I’m going to read them and watch them, so I can understand how this translates. Like that’s what you do, the Charles in Charge theme coming into my head, as Charles just texted us, the roommates, to confirm that our other roommate cleaned for the week, “it looks like you cleaned no?” Confrontational. Hero Charles. I’ll learn how to format a script. I’ll start. I have visuals in my mind, some spots where I think the camera could be, no? That’s what a screenwriter does? Screenwriters see pictures? I’m laughing. It’s a visual medium? I do seem to have vision. I have to read character breakdowns, right. I have no idea HOW a script is presented.
And I’m in the SPEEDBOAT with CHINA — making around round, wanting to CUT the mainline of the INTERNET. I do. I have no other thoughts. Nothing to say. Only that I HATE AI, I HATE the INTERNET. I’m hanging with China, just telling them, about “the government, you believe it? She said he was working for the government… absurd.”
All this producer had to do was — give me a movie to watch, “A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints,” which I didn’t even use, he was just going off, what I said, “you’re writing a book, and maybe you go home to confront all this,” and then… I was off. He sent me a bible. I didn’t even ask for help. Aren’t I ideal? Aren’t I someone to sort of commend, as a person, as I — guns in your face — do not LIKE agendas! I’m firing guns into the ceiling. It might fall, and I don’t give a shit. I don’t like agendas. The ghost of Barbara Harris here, in my imagined hallway, by default… I thought I might make a good Terminator… so whatever, you see, I wouldn’t even call the screenwriter I met, even if I still spoke to him—literally.
I’m not the one who got all “Hero’s Journey” about all this.
Charles in charge of me….
Charles in charge…
I’ll get a coffee or something… lol…
I might be better at conceiving a movie… I don’t know…I couldn’t even watch TV, you see, it was too much. My cousins in Italy know, I could hardly make it through Legends of the Fall. FLIPPING OUT, cringing, needing to LEAVE. “Maria,” Angela said, “it’s not really happening…” NO!!!!!!!!!!! The goddamn BULLET. I hated this movie, liked it. “I hate this fucking movie…” I was a wreck. I can become a total wreck, so I had to take a deep breath, Spielberg said in my mind, “get over it.” It’s just a movie. But he was a sensitive guy, too. So, I started just watching movies…I even called my super film nerd, and watched an art house with Rose Byrne, which was about rape, child rape, obviously, so you know, for what it’s worth… so I watched that, and I tried to understand, okay, he felt this was good as a FILM nerd. He’s not a nerd. He just got a good manager, I heard, so that’s good for him. We made it through the dark period, he actually called me, talked through that with me. He went to LA. He went from, “no it didn’t happen,” but after he got back from LA, he said, “it’s a good time for your story I think… and I was thinking, what IF Dr. J did it to protect you from him, for real…” and I truly, with this one, he went, no, not possible, to — maybe that’s really what it was… picturing this Frenchman… getting on a plane… to go back to Paris.