Hal Roach: currently less a man smoking a cigar than a smoking cigar in possession of a man, great clouds of white forming above his head like empty thought balloons waiting to be filled; an admirer of Benito Mussolini, to whom Hal Roach bears a passing facial resemblance if seen, as now, through fumes.
He shifts in his chair. He knows that he is being unfair to Hal Roach. Except for the part about Benito Mussolini. This part is true. Down the line, Hal Roach will even get into bed with Vittorio Mussolini, the dictator’s son, to form a film company, until MGM advises Hal Roach that consorting with the scion of a fascist while doing business in a town run by Jews may not be the wisest move.
Until recently, Hal Roach has been content to let Babe and him do as they wish. Hal Roach allows them to build an entire house for Helpmates and then torch it, which is about as extravagant as a man can run for a gag, short of setting fire to his own home and laughing while it burns.
Lately, though, the money has not been accumulating in quite the same quantities as before, and the studio may be forced to go dark again. Edgar Kennedy is gone. George Stevens is gone. Bank of America is circling because Hal Roach owes $75,000, and shows no signs of being able to pay the debt. As a result, Bank of America has forced a man named Henry Ginsberg on the studio as general manager.
Nobody likes Henry Ginsberg. Henry Ginsberg does not believe in spending more time and money to make better pictures. Above all else, Henry Ginsberg prizes speed and parsimony. If Henry Ginsberg sees a corpse, Henry Ginsberg will order it to rot quicker before deducting one of the pennies from its eyes.
Even he and Babe are not immune. For the first time, their pictures have resulted in a loss to Hal Roach. It is the Depression, and only hoodlums and bootleggers are turning a profit. Hal Roach acknowledges this. Nevertheless, everyone must scrimp, which is why Hal Roach has invited him into his office to discuss the next picture.
Hal Roach’s office is a sight to see. It is wood-paneled, and lit by chandeliers. Hal Roach’s desk stands before a small window, with a fireplace to one side, the mantel above displaying pictures of Hal Roach’s family. It could be the suite of a banker, except that the floor is covered with animal skins, including a bear hunted down and shot by Hal Roach.
Hal Roach offers him a drink, but he declines. He has work to do and prefers to keep a clear head, for now. Hal Roach makes himself a vodka and ginger. Hal Roach tells him that funds are limited. He usually hears this when his contract is up for renewal. It is a familiar refrain. If it were set to music, Hal Roach could sing it.
Hal Roach shows him the bill for Helpmates. He wonders if Hal Roach is about to demand a refund, or put a lien on his home.
We can’t be doing this kind of stunt no more, says Hal Roach.
He reminds Hal Roach that Hal Roach himself signed off on the budget. It is not as if he forged Hal Roach’s signature on a check, used the proceeds to build a house, burned it down, and then sent Hal Roach the ashes.
I know I signed off on it, says Hal Roach. What I’m saying is that we can’t be burning down no more houses.
He tells Hal Roach that he has no intention of burning down any more houses. He is not an arsonist.
– Good. Just so we’re clear. Tell me about this new picture.
– It’s called Top Heavy. It’s about a piano.
– I know what it’s called. I also know it’s about a piano. Currier informed me. What I want to know is the story.
– The piano is the story.
A piano is not a story, says Hal Roach. A piano is just a piano.
Hal Roach fears metaphor. If Hal Roach has never yet met a fascist Hal Roach does not like, neither has Hal Roach ever met a metaphor that Hal Roach does. Hal Roach is obsessed with refinement, and the risqué lurks in symbols.
Hal Roach is growing increasingly obsessive about plot. Hal Roach yearns to perceive a pattern in all matters. Perhaps, he thinks, it is to do with Hal Roach’s Catholic heritage, even though Hal Roach was thrown out of Catholic school. He could try telling Hal Roach that if comedy is to work, it requires the disintegration of order into chaos. Not only this, it must acknowledge chaos as the underlying state. There is no plot. There is no pattern. There is only a series of randomly connected situations, most of which are not amusing by definition. It is the task of comedians to make them funny.
But he does not believe Hal Roach has summoned him here to discuss a philosophy either of comedy or existence. Hal Roach has summoned him here to remind him that the screws are being tightened, and it’s not enough to tell Hal Roach a picture is about a piano.
We don’t have an action script yet, he tells Hal Roach.
– Forget the script. You don’t have a story. As far as I can see, you don’t even have any gags. You just have a piano.
– We’ll make up the gags on location.
Hal Roach begins to worry that more vodka and ginger may be required. The specter of Henry Ginsberg looms over Hal Roach, day and night. Hal Roach does not want to have to explain to Henry Ginsberg why Hal Roach has agreed to send a crew on location with no script and no gags. It is traditional that staff on Hal Roach’s lot should work for Hal Roach alone, but Henry Ginsberg owes his employment to Bank of America, and what is good for Bank of America is not necessarily good for Hal Roach. Already, Henry Ginsberg has forced Hal Roach to fire Elmer Raguse, without whom the studio’s transition to sound recording could not have been achieved, or not with such brilliant results. Elmer Raguse gets fired because Elmer Raguse does his job of installing and training and fine-tuning so well that there is no longer any need for his expertise. Elmer Raguse is heartbroken but, being Elmer Raguse, does not show it. Elmer Raguse just asks that they take good care of his equipment.
This is going to be three reels, right? Hal Roach asks.
– Yes.
– So for three reels, you need more than a piano.
– How about three pianos?
– How about I turn you and Babe Hardy into rugs for my floor?
Hal Roach is fond of this man before him. He and Babe are still the studio’s best earners, and less trouble than Our Gang, because they can work longer hours, and can grow older without needing to be discreetly replaced, like deceased pet hamsters and goldfish; and since neither of them is a Negro they do not offend Southern sensibilities, which is a problem with Our Gang since Stymie Beard is unmistakably a Negro, just like Sunshine Sammy Morrison and Farina Hoskins before him, and below the Mason–Dixon Line such fraternization between the races as is displayed in the Our Gang pictures is frowned upon, which means that Hal Roach’s pockets are being picked by crackers.