'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, and there is nothing new under the sun' Chap 12 Winner Stands Alone

[Paulo]

Javits glances around. There’s a man in dark glasses drinking a fruit juice. He seems oblivious to his surroundings and is staring out to sea as if he were somewhere far from there. He’s smartly dressed and good-looking, with greying hair. He was one of the first to arrive and must know who Javits is, and yet he’s made no effort to come and introduce himself. It was brave of him to sit there alone like that. Being alone in Cannes is anathema; it means that no one is interested in you, that you’re unimportant or don’t know anyone.

He envies that man, who probably doesn’t fit the list of ‘normal’ behaviour he always keeps in his pocket. He seems so independent and free; if Javits weren’t feeling so tired, he would really like to talk to him.

He turns to one of his ‘friends’.

‘What does being normal mean?’

‘Is your conscience troubling you? Have you done something you shouldn’t have?’

Javits has clearly asked the wrong question of the wrong man. His companion will perhaps assume that he’s regretting what he’s made of his life and that he wants to start anew, but that isn’t it at all. And if he does have regrets, it’s too late to begin again; he knows the rules of the game.

‘I asked you what being normal means?’

One of the ‘friends’ looks bewildered. The other keeps surveying the tent, watching people come and go.

‘Living like someone who lacks all ambition,’ the first ‘friend’ says at last.

The ‘friend’ laughs.

‘You should make a film on the subject,’ he says.

‘Not again,’ Javits thinks. ‘They have no idea. They’re with me all the time, but they still don’t understand what I do. I don’t make films.’

All films start out in the mind of a so-called producer. He’s read a book, say, or had a brilliant idea while driving along the freeways of Los Angeles (which is really a large suburb in search of a city). Unfortunately, he’s alone, both in the car and in his desire to transform that brilliant idea into something that can be seen on the screen.

He finds out if the film rights to the book are still available. If the response is negative, he goes in search of another product – after all, more than 60,000 books are published each year in the United States alone. If the response is positive, he phones the author and makes the lowest possible offer, which is usually accepted because it’s not only actors and actresses who like to be associated with the dream machine. Every author feels more important when his or her words are transformed into images.

They arrange to have lunch. The producer says that the book is ‘a work of art and highly cinematographic’ and that the writer is ‘a genius deserving of recognition’. The writer explains that he spent five years working on the book and asks to be allowed to help in the writing of the script. ‘No, really, you shouldn’t do that, it’s an entirely different medium,’ comes the reply, ‘but I know you’ll love the result.’ Then he adds: ‘The film will be totally true to the book,’ which, as both of them know, is a complete and utter lie.

The writer decides that he should agree to the conditions, promising himself that next time will be different. He accepts. The producer now says that they have to interest one of the big studios because they need financial backing for the project. He names a few stars he claims to have lined up for the lead roles – which is another complete and utter lie, but one that is always wheeled out and always works as a seduction technique. He buys what is known as an ‘option’, that is, he pays around $10,000 dollars to retain the rights for three years. And then what happens? ‘Then we’ll pay ten times that amount and you’ll have a right to 2% of the net profits.’ That’s the financial part of the conversation over with, because the writer is convinced he’ll earn a fortune from his slice of the profits.

If he were to ask around, he’d soon find out that the Hollywood accountants somehow manage it so that no film ever makes a profit.

Lunch ends with the producer handing the writer a huge contract and asking if he could possibly sign it now, so that the studio will know that the product is definitely theirs. With his eyes fixed on that (non-existent) percentage and on the possibility of seeing his name in lights (which won’t happen either, at most there’ll be a line in the credits, saying: ‘based on the book by…’), the writer signs the contract without giving the matter much thought.

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, and there is nothing new under the sun, as Solomon said more than three thousand years ago.

Continue Reading: http://paulocoelhoblog.com/category/t...

–-

Now you had a chance to read the first 1/11 of “The Winner stands alone” and we stop here the publication of the first pages.
The book, already released in Brazil and Portugal, will start being published on March 19, in UK, followed by US, France, Greece, Bulgaria, Australia, Holland.
In nearly all the other countries, it will be published from June to December 2009.