June 5, 2005 |
There's a piano in the living room at Budd Schulberg's old home in Hancock Park, just as there was 75 years ago when Schulberg was a boy, living there with his family, right around the corner from the Barrymores and Louis B. Mayer, his father's old business partner. The Schulbergs were Hollywood royalty back then. Budd's father, B.P. Schulberg, was head of Paramount Pictures, which meant that a cavalcade of stars often lighted up their living room, the piano getting quite a workout.
December 5, 2004 |
He passes off as his own scripts that were ghostwritten for him by a naive -- and hungry -- screenwriter. He does his best to sabotage the Writers Guild. He suggests to the studio's corporate owners that the present head of production is too old and out of touch with the movies' youthful core audience, then, when he succeeds to the job, cries copious tears at his predecessor's memorial service. His manservant is widely rumored to be a mobster, which lends a dark criminal glamour to his doings.
September 6, 1998 |
What have you done? Samuel Goldwyn, his face flushed with rage, had just ordered the young screenwriter into his office. What have you done? For a brief, naive moment, Budd Schulberg shrugged it off. Sure, most of the folks in Hollywood couldn't stand the gruff producer: Goldwyn was outrageous, tantrums were de rigueur. But Schulberg liked him just fine. At least Goldwyn seemed happy with his work.
April 26, 1992 |
Industry observers have said for years that there's no audience for movies about Hollywood. These are probably the same folks who said you couldn't sell tickets to baseball movies until "Bull Durham" or Westerns until "Dances With Wolves." Robert Altman's "The Player" could change the conventional wisdom about Hollywood movies.
March 21, 1991 |
If the fictional Sammy Glick, role model for the Gordon Geckos of our time, primo back-stabber to the stars and schlock overachiever of the '30s, should in whatever reprehensible form return to our glitzy shores, he would find it not only difficult to have lunch in this town again, but he'd have to find employment in a seemingly different Hollywood. Most likely he'd be working for a Japanese electronics giant. Or an Italian entrepreneur. Or an Australian media operator.
May 27, 1990
I read with great interest Jeffrey Hayden's pithy recounting of life among credentialed movie moguls ("Sammy Glick? Sure, Sammy and I Go way Back," Book Review, April 29). Having worked (as a film designer) with and among Jerry Wald, Buddy Adler and Dore Schary throughout my early career, I can tell you firsthand all three could be meteoric; unpredictable; maddening; sometimes insincere; very often a pain in the butt. But they were also moviemakers . Unlike the "new Hollywood," Schary, Adler and Wald cared deeply about this business of show.