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What 'The Fall Guy' Says About Hollywood in 2024 + The Robert Evans Interview (2002)

Issue 34: The Kid Stays in the Picture

May 10, 2024

Hi friends,

Hope you’ve had a great week! I’m writing from Lexington, Kentucky, where I’m recording the first few episodes of our newest upcoming podcast while dog-sitting Bruce and Ernie. In addition, I’m putting the final touches on Hi Barr’s first collaboration with an innovator from the sports design world. I can’t wait to share it soon! But first, I wrote an essay about a couple of under-discussed issues facing Hollywood today, followed by a curated interview from 2002 with legendary movie producer, studio exec, and author of perhaps the best Hollywood memoir ever written, Robert Evans.

The topic that seems to have the Film Twitter up in arms this week is THE FALL GUY’s opening weekend box office of ~$28 million against a $200 million budget. I’ve seen a lot of the blame being placed on both theaters for not offering better experiences and on consumers for not being better theater-goers, which is actually insane. THE FALL GUY has everything you’d want in a summer blockbuster including: movie stars doing movie star things (with A+ chemistry), a great concept, and awesome action set pieces. It’s a four-quadrant movie that unfortunately was just marketed to 38-year-olds like me. Is it possible that 15 years of giving moviegoers multiple superhero movies each summer has trained one (or two) generations to associate summer blockbusters with superhero movies?

I commend Universal for making this kind of non-superhero summer blockbuster. It worked for them with OPPENHEIMER and it’s not like THE FALL GUY is HEAVEN’S GATE. On paper, it makes sense, but at this budget? Over time, I expect it to pick up more word of mouth and perform well enough to recoup its costs and likely even book a profit after international receipts. But it made me think of an under-discussed issue in Hollywood: the importance of making a larger number of movies, which is clearly missing in today's Hollywood.

Quick aside: This isn’t an essay about everything that’s wrong or broken in Hollywood, nor is it wishful thinking for a time machine back to 1995. Some things in movies today are great, others aren’t. Many issues in the movie biz are self-inflicted and many aren’t…Some shifts were inevitable, others were the byproduct of technology changing consumer habits. When billions of potential moviegoers have access to infinite content that's “good enough,” it's going to change how movies work. At the end of the day, movies still rule.

For an industry that thrives on MORE, we’re getting far fewer theatrically released studio films than ever! A few weeks ago, I was listening to The Big Picture’s recent 1999 Movie Draft episode and was stunned by the graphic they shared (below).

There’s 42 movies on the graphic, and these are just the ones that were drafted! It’s remarkable not just how many iconic movies were released in 1999, but also how many of them weren’t “big budget events.” Back then, the studios made a number of movies expecting singles and doubles, while hoping for triples, home runs and even grand slams. Of course, this was a different time, when movies that didn’t open at the box office could still find huge financial success; as well as, cultural importance in the form of the DVD and cable TV. Those days are gone.

*For more on this, I highly recommend Ben Fritz’s excellent book: THE BIG PICTURE.

Volume is what used to make the movie machine hum in Hollywood. Until recently, each studio made a larger number of films each year knowing some would hit, some would bomb, and some would hopefully surprise with huge returns. Over the last 15 years, the number of films each studio’s released has dropped considerably, to the point where some studios are releasing 6-8 movies in a year and praying for a miracle. You know what’s not sustainable? Making 6-8 movies a year and praying audiences still love your unnecessary IP reboot or a live action version of an animated movie.

To get Capone, you need to make a lot of movies. In fact, you decrease your risk by making more movies. Look at A24, who had their name on 21 movies last year (produced, distro’d, or both). We hear all the time about A24’s winners, but they’ve certainly had movies that didn’t perform well. We just don’t hear about them because they aren’t in the business of throwing huge amounts of money at one movie, which could sink their entire slate. Granted, A24 is much smaller than Warner Brothers, Universal, and the rest of the studios, but they understand that making movies work requires a number of swings at the bat, which means…volume!

As William Goldman famously said, “Nobody knows anything.” If Hollywood could predict which movies were going to be winners, they would only make winners. I’m not sure when, but at some point, the studios forgot their model was closer to venture capital than to running a hedge fund. Making in more movies, across all budgets, makes up for their bad bets and increases the odds for overall success. As most of the studios continue their long march towards licensing their entire libraries to Netflix, they’ve forgotten that they need more swings at bat, instead of recklessly swinging for the fences a few times a year. At this year’s Academy Awards, Cord Jefferson, winner of Best Adapted Screenplay, said it best:

“I understand this is a risk adverse industry, I get it, but $200 million movies are also a risk, you know. It doesn’t always work out, but you take the risk anyways. And instead of making one $200 million movie, try making 20 $10 million movies or 50 $4 million movies.”

Cord Jefferson

Ok, so is this doable? Can Hollywood play “moneyball”?

Fat chance.

Outside of A24 and Blumhouse, this strategy is a non-starter in today’s Hollywood where the bigger the budget, the bigger the… Today’s streaming era is a brave new world, that still features a lot of the old guard. They say they can hear the music playing, but don’t realize it’s a silent disco. In some ways, it feels like 1967, where a new generation is ready for their opportunity, only to run into the typical 'You’re not ready. Wait your turn' BS. Things are changing and you can’t stop progress, but will there be enough time for the studios to figure it out before it’s too late? I’m 38, and it’s difficult for me to keep up with the tastes and creative interests of the under-25 crowd. Yet, we expect studio execs over 60 to keep their fingers on the pulse of culture and what moviegoers want? I'm not exaggerating; outside of Netflix, this is the norm, and it’s not dissimilar from what’s happening in politics right now.

It hasn't always been this way. At 32, Barry Diller was already running Paramount! Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg joined Disney in 1984 as CEO and Chairman of Walt Disney Studios at 42 and 34 years old, respectively, after years in leadership at Paramount. And, of course, Robert Evans was running Paramount in his mid-30s, achieving incredible creative and financial success despite little to no executive experience beforehand. Everything in the previous sentence is impossible today. Now, I don’t begrudge today’s studio leaders and execs. They’re smart, know their businesses inside and out, and have paid their dues. If they’re having fun and getting paid, why leave? Today’s Hollywood leadership roles are all-encompassing, 24/7 global positions with incredible responsibilities that very few are actually equipped to handle. Companies like Disney, Paramount, and Universal are significantly bigger operations today than they were in the 1970s and 1980s. But that doesn’t mean it’s not an issue. 70 is apparently the new 50, but you can see how this is creating issues both with the overall creative product that Hollywood turns out; as well as, the future leaders of these companies in regards to succession.

When they say, “they don’t make them like they used to,” it can be endearing, but more often than not, it’s a good thing. Robert Evans had his demons; but the movies he helped get made stand the test of time and ultimately, changed Hollywood. Not bad for someone in their mid-30s with little to no management experience. Evans’s story is one of those “only in Hollywood” types, where he took a simple concept of adapting popular newly released novels and working with talented young auteurs to new heights, producing The Godfather I & II, Chinatown, Love Story, Rosemary’s Baby, and Harold and Maude—all within ten years. He was one of one, known for conducting business at home—either in bed or on one of his 20 phones around his iconic Beverly Hills home known as ‘Woodland.’ Yet, if he were to apply to the same job he held at Paramount today, he’d be lucky to get a job in the mailroom (if he even heard back from them at all). I guess there’s a sense of irony that after Evans’s death in 2019, the person who bought his iconic home was…David Zaslav.

Enjoy!

The Robert Evans Interview

INTERVIEW BY ALEX SIMON
VENICE   | 2002

ALEX SIMON: What precipitated your writing the book The Kid Stays In the Picture?
ROBERT EVANS: I wrote this book not knowing if it would be published or not. I could have cared less. I didn't care if anyone even read it, just one person: my son, Josh. From the time Josh was seven years old until he was 17, his old man went from royalty to infamy. And kids can be very cruel. Unfortunately, royalty fades and infamy stays. The day Josh graduated from high school, the headline on the front page of the L.A. Times read: “Robert Evans Involved in Murder.” There all the kids were, dressed in their caps and gowns. Bob Daly was there. Terry Semel was there. Both their kids were graduating as well. And in spite of everything I accomplished in my life, I felt so low. Josh came up to me, hugged and kissed me, and I was just crying. Afterwards we all went to lunch, just me, Josh, and his mom, Ali MacGraw. Then I went home by myself and just cried some more, thinking “Why should Josh have to go through all this shit because of me and my mistakes?” So I wanted to write a book that would tell Josh who his old man really is. You can’t lie to a kid. You have to tell the truth. So I disappeared for four years while I wrote this book. And it wasn't cathartic at all. It was painful to write about your fuck-ups, because then you’ve got to rewrite them and rewrite them and rewrite them. This book was the only legacy I could leave to him. I had no money. I lost my house. It was the most humble, purest endeavor of my life.

EVANS: I wanted to show him [my son] my life, warts and all. This is my legacy to him. And by doing that, it opened up doors that changed my entire life. It's funny, not long ago I was completely washed up. Then to make matters worse, I had a stroke. I was half paralyzed. I had to learn how to walk again, talk again, hold a fork again. My right side was paralyzed, including half my tongue. But for some reason, the guy upstairs gave me a second pass. I heard the fat lady sing, literally. I heard Ella Fitzgerald singing It’s a Wonderful World. I saw the white light, then I passed out. When I woke up in the hospital, I thought I was in heaven at first. But when I really regained consciousness, I found myself more like Quasimodo than myself. I really felt like a freak. I took speech therapy for three years to learn how to use my tongue again. The real pain was the physical therapy, though. I used to be a pretty damn good tennis player, and I couldn’t even hold onto a ball. It was tough, but I did it because I wanted to prove them doctors wrong! I’ve never lived by the rules. I ain’t corporate. I’m not a good executive and I’m a lousy businessman, and I’ve never kept the hours that other studio heads did. I learned this from Zanuck: when he ran 20th Century Fox, he showed up to the studio at 2 o'clock and left at midnight. So when I ran Paramount, I never had breakfast meetings. I can’t help it. I’m just not good in the morning. I'd show up at 11:30 and work until midnight. Everyone resented it, the idea being that you have to show up at 9. I'm not a 9-to-5 guy.

SIMON: You always did most of your business from home, right?
EVANS: More Hollywood history was made in my screening room during the late 60’s and 70’s than anywhere else. Chinatown was born here. The Godfather was born here. Francis Coppola and I practically fought WWIII here during that time. Dustin Hoffman and Larry Olivier both lived here during Marathon Man. Olivier lived here for six months. Larry Olivier couldn't get a job at the time, because he had cancer and no one would insure him. He was destitute. He couldn't afford to send his son to college. Through my good friends David Niven and Merle Oberon, I was able to go before the House of Lords, and persuade them to get insurance for the greatest actor of our time through Lloyd's of London. Olivier threw his arms around when it was over and said “You saved my life, old boy.” Not long after that, his cancer went into remission and he was able to live his last 13 years doing some of the most brilliant work of his career. That's one of the proudest moments my life. It’s funny, I’ve led a very blessed and a very cursed life.

❝

Every film that the so-called “suits” didn’t want to make were all hits, and the pictures that they did want to make were all flops.

Robert Evans

SIMON: I think you’ve had more extreme ups and downs than almost anyone in Hollywood history.
EVANS: I’ve touched magic as much as anyone, and I've been scandalous as much as anyone. And the strange thing is, all my “scandals” were non-truths. I've done a lot of wrong things in my life, but the two things that really brought me infamy: the coke bust and the so-called “Cotton Club murder” of Roy Raydin, I had nothing to do with. How can I get busted for something when I'm 3000 miles away? My nose ain't that long. (laughs) But, I get ink. If you live by the sword, you die by the sword. People made careers over my carcass. I’m afraid to walk past the Hustler store on Sunset, forget about going in it! Someone takes a picture, boom! There I am on the front page: “Bob Evans, porn fiend!” (laughs) That’s why I rarely leave my house anymore. I’d get in too much trouble! (laughs)

SIMON: In almost every show business biography and autobiography I’ve read, their subjects are portrayed having one amazing success after another, almost to the point of omnipotence, only to self-destruct just when things seem like they’re perfect. What causes that tendency, do you think?
EVANS: Gambling. Most successful filmmakers and producers are gamblers at heart. I mean, literally. Darryl Zanuck had such a bad problem he had to borrow money from Howard Hughes. And let’s face it: what’s a bigger risk in life than making films? And when you gamble, you don’t always win. David O. Selznick died broke. I wanted to be Selznick, that’s why I did The Cotton Club, and wanted to own it. But I wasn’t as smart as he was.

SIMON: Let's talk about your days at Paramount. You came there at such a unique time. You even convinced the board to give you complete autonomy in running the studio.
EVANS: Yeah, but that didn't happen right away. I thought I was about to be fired. So I had Mike Nichols shoot this 40 minute film for me, which I presented to the unsmiling, 18 member board of Gulf and Western (Paramount’s then-owner) in New York, convincing them at Paramount would be the No. 1 studio in town after the release of Love Story and The Godfather. I signed resignation papers when I arrived in the office, saying they could keep the $300,000 it would cost them to buy out the rest of my contract if they’d just watch this 40 minute film. They agreed. After I screened it, Charlie Bluhdorn, my boss, called me into his office and told me to go back to work. I said “But Charlie, I resigned.” He said "Whaddya want, more money?" I said "I don't want another dime from you. What I want is to be in a position were not a single one of those 18 motherfuckers can come on my lot, interfere with my films, or bother me in any way. I want complete control.” He says “Evans, are you crazy? I can’t do that? It’s against all corporate rules.” I said "OK, I'm going. Goodbye." He said "Get back here!" So Charlie goes back in before the board. After an hour, he comes back. “Okay Evans, you got what you want. It's your shop. You better have a lotta mazel, Evans! Now get to work!” So that’s how I got my autonomy. I wasn't a fence straddler. I gambled with my 300 Gs and that’s what took Paramount to 140 nominations and that’s what made history. What do you think most studios would have said to me if I went to them and said “I want to make the story of 18-year-old boy who falls in love with an 80-year-old woman, to be directed by an acid head (Hal Ashby) and written by a guy who cleans swimming pools (Colin Higgins)”? They’d throw it out the window! (laughs) And that’s how we touched magic.

TK: Tell us about Hal Ashby.
EVANS: I loved Hal. A sweet, sweet man, and a great director. He died way too early. He was a brilliant film editor and had a good reputation for that, but his first picture (The Landlord) hadn’t even come out yet when we were prepping Harold and Maude. Colin Higgins worked for (producer) Eddie Lewis as a pool boy! I think it’s a classic that’ll last forever. Every film that the so-called “suits” didn’t want to make were all hits, and the pictures that they did want to make were all flops. No one wanted to make The Godfather. With Chinatown, they begged me “It’s Chinese, nobody’ll understand it!” They didn’t want to release it. They didn’t understand it. Then after it came out, after all the accolades, suddenly they understood it.

SIMON: You mentioned how much the studio world has changed since you began in the mid-60s. Could Bob Evans happen today, or was it great timing: the right man for the job at the right time?
EVANS: It could happen. I've always been fortunate enough to meet people who have been mentors me. Some people didn't. Some people did. Fortunately, most people who did were at the top. I think it could be done again. Joe Roth has done it, very successfully. I didn't much earlier age, though. I’m a huge gambler. My attitude always was if I get fired, I get fired. Big deal. So I took chances. I did things people said couldn't be done. If someone came into my office and said “I've got a great idea for this picture. It’ll be so commercial and everyone will love it!” I’d say “Get outta here!” But if someone came in my office and said “I've got a really weird story to tell you. It may not work, but I think it's really terrific and I'm in love with it.” That’s what happened with a film called Don’t Look Now (Nicolas Roeg, 1973). Nic Roeg went to everyone in town. No one wanted to make it. I did. Now it’s regarded as a classic. If you pick one hit out of three, you doing great. If a ballplayer bats one in three, he’s a star. If you hit a homer or two, you’re a big star. I always went by the percentages. With Roman Polanski, everybody told me I was crazy to hire this weird Polack to direct this high-profile movie (Rosemary’s Baby). I said “That’s why I’m doing it: it’s crazy!” You’ve got to risk to do something different, something original. If you don’t do what’s original, all you care about is keeping your job. Rules were made to be broken. Break them!

SIMON: Now you’ve become a hero and mentor to a new generation of young actors and filmmakers. Track record aside, I think it must be your candor that draws them to you.
EVANS: People ask me “What’s the most important thing in your life.” I always answer “It has nothing to do with morality, it’s always telling the truth. Because then you never have to remember what you’ve said.” That way I can walk into any room at any time, and just tell it like it is. People may not like you for it, but there’s an asterisk to it: omission ain’t lying. (laughs)

SIMON: How do you keep rising from the ashes like the Phoenix? What’s your secret?
EVANS: Very simple: I wanna stay in the picture, because once you’re outta the picture, you’re out.