Bruce Wagner - The Chrysanthemum Palace

“Really?”

There was something about the way he asked if I knew her that made me instinctively play down our relationship. Later, I felt sleazy about it. Anyhow, she’d never said anything about pitching HBO.

“It was so crazy! She came in with Thad Michelet — in fact, he’s out here doing a Starwatch. But you already know that.”

I could tell he wanted to gossip but was being politic.

“Yeah, he’s great!” I enthused, vacantly. I know it was seedy but I was distancing myself so the guy would feel comfortable about telling all.

“They had this insane sitcom idea, kind of like a Curb Your Enthusiasm? About the almost-famous kids of famous parents. I mean grown-up kids — like Thad and Clea! They sort of typecast themselves.” He played it close to the vest, subtly scanning my allegiances to measure just how far he could go. “It’s a really funny idea, but — well, the meeting was strange. ”

“In what way?”

I smiled, indicating that I was up for a little slander.

“He’s a character!” said the exec.

I could tell he was getting ready to spill.

“Pretty interesting guy,” I said, cagily noncommittal.

“ Wild. And she’s wild too. Looks a lot like her mom.” We were halfway down the hall, ahead of the others. “And I’m a serious Roos Chandlerphile. A Roosa holic. ”

Morbidly, I steered him back. “So, what happened?”

“Do you promise not to mention this? I mean, to either of them?”

I nodded eagerly. The exec knew he could be reasonably sure I wouldn’t pass on anything that was said in confidence, for fear it might endanger my own project. He was smart and brash, and enjoyed the spice of telling tales out of school.

“I thought you would have heard this already,” he said, lowering his voice. “I think they were loaded. I don’t know”—the slight backpedal. “Does she have any problems like that? I hear she’s been in a bunch of rehabs. But she was really nervous . She looked great —it wasn’t like she was ‘out of it’ or anything. And he was… he was — I don’t know what he was!” The exec laughed. “He’s kind of from another planet? Right? That’s why he’s perfect for your show! Not Holmby but Starwatch,” he said, wryly. “So they pitched us and we liked it, it’s kind of a hoot, kind of a cool idea, needs a tweak, and then we ask them about the characters. And Clea says her character is the daughter of someone like her mom, like Roos, only in the show her mom’s still alive —that was actually kind of touching — and Thad’s character is like the son of — instead of a famous novelist — the son of a famous film director . And then Terry or someone in the room said that the film director thing might be a little showbizzy and since Clea’s mom was already going to be this big movie star, why not just make his dad a novelist —you know, a literary thing, you know, just do it, right? And I think the comment was a good one because it’s not like anyone — I mean, Clea — was tiptoeing around because everyone knows who Thad’s father is, or was —we ain’t dummies! Right? And you’re here at HBO pitching a show where you’re basically playing yourselves so why not just drink from that well? Just, like, do that. Anyway, he got so pissed off —Thad — it was like suddenly he woke up and realized he was in this room hondling a series about the loser son of a superfamous man— hello. I mean, that’s part of the premise! It wasn’t our idea.” He laughed. “And Clea tried to calm him down, and then — I can’t believe you didn’t hear this! He, like, pulled out his dick. ”

“He what?”

I wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“We asked what one of the shows would be like — you know, we always try to get some idea of a typical show — with you, it’s different, you gave us an entire season! — anyway, it’s not something that needs to be carved in stone. So I said, Tell us about the pilot. Walk us through. Which is something I don’t always do, depending on the talent in the room. Right? And Thad, like, turns around — does a one eighty… we all thought he was turning around to like get into character! And when he turns back, his dick is out, and he says, ‘I’ll walk you through!’ And then he like starts to whack. ”

“Are you serious? What did everyone do?”

“Jane totally walked out — and she’s completely hardcore. I mean, Jane’s the one who’s always pushing David to go further with Dead-wood. Clea told him to put it away—‘Put it away!’—it was so surreal! She sounded like Joan Rivers! And then they got into this slapping thing—”

“Jane?—”

“No!” he said, laughing again. “But that wasn’t so far off! Clea and Thad. They start to like slap each other, it was so David Sedaris! Then he runs out and Clea stays behind and someone calls security and we all felt really terrible. I mean, for her . And one of us — Patrick, I think — rushes into the hall to make sure Thad wasn’t like going after Jane . I’m not even kidding. I think Jane locked herself in her office. I mean, there was never anything ‘threatening’—it was more like burlesque, whatever. But it was off-the-wall enough that people were really disturbed. And Clea… I didn’t know what to say to her other than I was such a fan of her mom’s — and of her, too, and that I really liked her movies — and it’s true, I think Clea did some really good work. And she just seemed so grateful that we weren’t like telling her to leave . Get the fuck away! Because she’s kinda great, right? And she like tried to turn it around and said, ‘Well… could we at least maybe do a movie about my mom like that Judy Garland thing you guys did?’ (That wasn’t even ours.) Something she could produce. ‘I love you guys so much’—that kind of thing. Half crying. So sad. Because she does have access to all this stuff about her mom no one knows about. That’s what she was saying, she was like pimping at this point. Vamping. We couldn’t really respond to the biopic thing so I just kind of put my hand on her shoulder and she started full-out bawling and talking this — stream-of- consciousness —about this other idea, how we could maybe do a game show —this Hollywood Squares thing with the children of famous people…”

Elevators whooshed open just like on the Demeter . The agents and HBO execs, who’d been having their own cliquish postpitch huddles, converged for friendly good-byes. As the metal box whisked us to valet level, the ground beneath our feet moving softly, ever downward, Dan said he was almost certain we had a deal.

THAT NIGHT, I WENT OVERto Clea’s.

She answered the door in darkness then retreated to the bathroom. When she emerged, I could see the freshly applied foundation covering a darkish bruise on the delicate line of her jaw. I asked about it and she said she got loaded and fell in the bathroom. Before I probed further, Clea assiduously volunteered that her boyfriend hadn’t struck her. I wanted to believe it. Then she disarmed me by tearfully asking for help — would I take her to the Pacific Group on Wednesday? — a brilliant strategy that worked like a charm. Not only was it impossible to turn her down but Clea’s helplessness made me begin to think she was telling the truth about her injury. After things settled, I brought up the weenie-wagging incident — we both began to laugh. Without elaborating, she said HBO could go fuck themselves because Fox and Showtime were practically in a bidding war over her idea.