—
Many years later in 2011, the silent movie The Artist won a well-deserved Oscar for Best Picture. When I met Michel Hazanavicius, the brilliant French director who made the film, I praised his movie, and then I teased him with, “It’s in black and white and it’s silent; who knows, I might have unconsciously shown you the way with Young Frankenstein in black and white and then with my own Silent Movie.”
* * *
—
With your permission, let me digress. I had that conversation with Michel Hazanavicius at one of my regular Friday lunches, which started around 1999. Young Frankenstein producer Michael Gruskoff and I had lunch on the outdoor patio of a now closed famous restaurant in Beverly Hills called Orso, where a lot of celebrities gathered to dine. We were reminiscing about our wonderful years on the third floor in the executive building at Twentieth Century Fox. Mike had a beautiful dog back then that used to come to work with him, an Irish setter called Lightning. Also on the third floor with us was a talented producer named Marvin Worth, who made some terrific films like Lenny (1974), Malcolm X (1992), and Carl Reiner’s unforgettable Where’s Poppa? (1970). Marvin was a sharp dresser and always sported a lot of gold chains. I used to joke that when I heard a lot of jangling chains in the hallway, I never knew whether it was Gruskoff’s dog Lightning or Marvin Worth. They both jingled and jangled all the way up the stairs!
We had such a good time remembering those days that I suggested that Mike call all the Fox alumni that were still with us and try to set up a weekly lunch at Orso. So Michael went to work and at our next lunch we were joined by our beloved former leader, our studio chief Alan Ladd Jr. (whom we still called Laddie) together with his trusted right-hand man from those Fox days, Jay Kanter.
I’ve told you a little about Laddie, now let me tell you a little bit about Jay. Jay Kanter was an important decision maker at Fox, but he was also one of the greatest agents ever. In his heyday, he represented Marlon Brando, Grace Kelly, and Marilyn Monroe. A show business trifecta that no one would ever match. But it never went to his head. He is the sweetest, most self-effacing, humble guy that ever lived. At every lunch we would all bombard him with questions about Marilyn Monroe’s private life, but Jay would never spill the beans.
Soon our Friday lunch table grew to include another notable former resident of the third floor at Fox, the gifted writer/director Paul Mazursky. I first met Paul when we both had offices opposite each other at Fox and he was working on An Unmarried Woman (1978). He was an incredibly good neighbor because he would come over and spill his troubles and worries to me, and I would spill all my doubts and fears to him. We would buoy each other up with false statements and lies. He would just walk into my office, sit down on my desk, and say things like, “So what’s it all about, Alfie?” He was worldly like that. The only criminal activity I could accuse him of was when he sat on my desk he could somehow read all my private correspondence, even though from his point of view it was upside down. One of the great things about all of Paul’s movies is that they never seem to be written or made up. They felt like they sprang from real life. Films like Next Stop, Greenwich Village (1976), Blume in Love (1973), and especially Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969), where the dialogue flowed so naturally. Paul was a terrific filmmaker. His films were so earthy and rich in human nature that I used to call him our American Fellini. But Paul had his quirks and peccadillos; he was given to bouts of angry contretemps. If I ever mentioned that I won an award like the Screen Laurel Award, which the Writers Guild bestows on writers for advancing the art of the screenplay, he would go bananas. He’d scream, “Why not me! Why the heck did they give it to you?” So at our Friday lunch I was careful to tell everybody not to mention any current award I was being given, or Paul would blow his top and maybe even grab a knife off the table and kill me.
* * *
—
Lunch after lunch the table grew; old industry vets who have since passed on, like the wonderfully hands-on and supportive Fox executive Gareth Wigan and super agent Freddie Fields, began to join us. A word about Freddie Fields—he was the most incredibly persuasive talent agent that ever lived. At his funeral I said, “If Freddie Fields couldn’t talk Death out of doing him in, what chance do we have?”
For some reason I decided to pick up the check for lunch that first time, and I just continued to do that for every lunch thereafter. I felt that since I started this thing, I might as well pay for this thing. The only rub in this routine was Mazursky; he was the only one who always ordered a dessert—and an expensive dessert at that—key lime pie, baked Alaska, or even a flaming bananas Foster! But you know I’m kidding; he passed away in 2014 and I miss him and his expensive desserts to this day.
As the years went on, we added more wonderful people to our table. Like Fred Specktor, a CAA agent who filled us with fabulous stories about how crazy deals got made and the nutty behavior he experienced at the hands of studio execs on power trips. But that was not the only thing he filled us with; his wife, Nancy, is an incredible baker and supplied the table with truly magical homemade chocolate chip cookies to have with our coffee. He has often asked us if he would still be invited if Nancy didn’t supply those great cookies. To which we all lied, “Of course!”