WEEK     JOB: HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER

LOCATION: HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA

I AN RODE SHOTGUN, while I drove. We pulled up to the studio’s gate, staffed by a security guard in a glass booth. I reached for the volume control, lowered Tupac’s “California Love,” then rolled down the window.

“Name?” asked the security attendant.

I felt like I’d arrived at a VIP party, hoping that there hadn’t been a mix-up and that my name had in fact made it onto the guest list.

“Sean Aiken. We’re here with Emmett/Furla Films,” I said, overly polite, as if it would help my chances of getting in.

“Sean Aiken, hmm.” He flipped through the sheets of paper attached to his clipboard.

Past the wood barrier in front of our rental car, I could see hints of movie magic—large buildings with stage numbers, a cluster of wardrobe racks with clothes hanging from them, props being unloaded out of the back of a truck, and people walking around wearing headphones like the ones they wear at fast-food drive-throughs.

“Dude, we need to get some of those,” I said, pointing them out to Ian. He nodded, though he seemed unconvinced.

“Okay, found you,” said the security guard. “Sean Aiken and Ian MacKenzie.” He highlighted our names with a neon marker, then handed me a parking pass. “Make sure this is on your dash. And when you leave, return it at the gate.”

“Sure thing.”

The wood barrier rose. Ian cranked the music, and I pulled forward into the lot. We were in.

We parked the car, then walked through the studio grounds in search of the offices of Emmett/Furla Films. We turned a corner, and in the distance, perfectly situated on the forested hill, were the large white letters that spell HOLLYWOOD. I’d seen them so many times in movies. Now I was actually there. And I was a Hollywood producer.

We arrived at the fifth-floor office where I’d meet Randall Emmett. Randall is a top Hollywood producer and co-founder of Emmett/Furla Films. The company has more than forty movie titles to its credit, including the last Rambo film and Righteous Kill, starring Robert De Niro and Al Pacino.

As we opened the glass door, I heard a very loud, animated conversation. I peeked into the office to see Randall behind his desk, yelling into his phone as if it were a walkie-talkie. He put up his index finger to acknowledge he’d seen us, then resumed his rant.

Greg, Randall’s tired-looking assistant, greeted us. “Hey, guys, just have a seat here. Randall will be with you in a moment.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Ian and I sat on two of the chairs just outside of Randall’s office and scoped out the framed posters that lined the wall, of various films that he’d produced.

“Okay, Randall is ready for you guys,” Greg said.

We stepped into Randall’s office. He stood up and flashed a big grin one would typically reserve for old buddies. “You’re an animal! I love it, I just love it!”

He continued with enthusiasm: “When I heard about your project, I thought, I need to get ahold of this guy. It’s such an amazing idea. I could sell this thing in a second.”

The telephone rang. Randall’s assistant put the call through. “Just a second, guys,” Randall said. As he spoke on the phone, his attention alternated between his computer and the person on the other end, while his fingers incessantly fidgeted with his BlackBerry.

Something on his BlackBerry caught his attention. “Hold on a sec,” he said to the caller. “Greg!” he yelled at his assistant in the other room. “How could you not remind me to call George? What the hell are you here for?”

Randall is the stereotypical Hollywood producer—he’s arrogant, loud, and flashy when it comes to overt examples of success (nice car, photos with celebrities, name-dropping). He’s like a hyperactive little kid with a large ego.

Randall hung up the phone and directed his attention back to me. “So, this week we’re going to try and give you a little insight into what a Hollywood producer does—an overview. Basically I’m responsible for buying the script, deciding who’s going to direct the movie, who’s going to star in the movie. It’s also my job to secure those actors, and to do the budget, make sure that we have the money. We like to make big commercial movies here. We like big action stuff.”

Randall knows how to get things done in L.A. He bullies, whines, yells, and demands until he gets his way. When he’s behind a project he believes in, he is a fighter. He won’t take no for an answer. A true Hollywood success story, he worked his way up with his own sweat and hustle, from gopher and assistant to Mark Wahlberg to movie mogul.

One of the two cellphones on Randall’s desk rang. He picked it up and started into a rant about One-Week Job. “So get this. This guy in my office graduates from college and doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. So he starts up a website to do a different job each week for a year—fifty-two jobs in fifty-two weeks! Is that not sick?”

Ian and I sat on the couch as Randall paced around the room, arms flailing, making noise for the sake of making noise.

“He’s traveling all over the place, sleeping on couches. … Yeah, he’s working with me this week. … I know! It’s the greatest concept on the face of the planet!”

He hung up the phone and immediately picked up where he’d left off. “So I’ll have you read scripts this week, and actually be my eyes and ears for stuff we’re looking out for—unfortunately/fortunately, we get fifty to seventy-five scripts a week. I have a very small staff, I like to keep it tight. Everyone is involved in the company, so I’m going to look to you to find me a good screenplay, something we can option. If it’s something that’s exciting and interesting, we can go after the option and then try to make it.”

Randall explained that to purchase an option for a screenplay means purchasing the rights to make the film for a set period of time. If within that period they decide to make the film, then they will pay the screenwriter the agreed-upon purchase price for the screenplay, significantly more than the option price.

If within the set time period (usually eighteen months) Randall chooses not to make the film, then the rights will revert back to the screenwriter, who can then sell the option to another company.

“When I look at a script, I have to ask myself, ‘Is this something I think everyone would want to go see?’ So from the very beginning, I have to think about how the whole thing would come together—who would star in it, who would direct it. Sure, there is some glitz and glamour to the life of a Hollywood producer. But you know, we go to work every day, it’s a lot of business, a lot of negotiation. The other side is you get to go to the premieres, and that’s a perk of the job. But for me the passion is making good films so I can take an audience on a journey.”

I’d entered into a very different reality again this week, a reality far from our slumber parties at Mike’s place. Some of the conversations seemed to be straight out of an episode of Entourage—talking about celebrities on a first-name basis, organizing top directors and actors for a new feature film, discussing a new production company that Randall was starting with rap star 50 Cent. At one point he was getting quotes for flying Sylvester Stallone around the world for premieres of Rambo. With stops in four cities, the final quote for the private jet came out to $500,000. A different reality indeed.

Like Randall said, I learned there’s a lot of work that goes on behind the scenes. There are many aspects he must oversee to keep things moving forward before they can even start to shoot.

Turned out I’d also get to experience some of the perks of the job. The world premiere of the new Rambo movie was in Las Vegas the following weekend, and Randall promised us two tickets. Ian decided to go home and be with Karen for a couple of weeks, but there was no way I was going to miss out on the chance to see a major red-carpet premiere in Las Vegas, with the likes of Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

With an extra ticket to the premiere, I immediately called Danna.

“Hey, babe, how’s it going?”

“Good. Aren’t you at work?”

“Yeah, I am. But just wanted to see if you had any plans for next weekend?”

“Plans? No, don’t think so. … What? Why, what’s up?”

“Well … I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me to a red-carpet world movie premiere in Las Vegas next weekend.”

“What! Seriously?”

“Well, I am a Hollywood producer this week, you know.”

She laughed. “Okay, in that case I’ll have my people call your people. … And by that I mean, I’ll beg for the time off work and let you know if I can find a flight that won’t cost me a couple months rent.”

“Done.”

And so it was decided. After my next job, in Denver, I’d fly to Las Vegas for the weekend and Danna would meet me there. From Vegas, I’d continue to my next job, in Idaho. I figured that while I was a Hollywood producer, I should at least do my best to try and roll like one.

On the day I left Los Angeles, I received a call from a different kind of producer.

“Hello, Sean speaking.”

Ian claims that I have different tones when I answer the phone and that he can differentiate whether or not I know who is calling depending on my tone. I probably answered in my “Who’s calling me at ten on a Sunday morning?” tone.

“Is this Sean who is doing the different jobs?” asked the man on the other end.

“Yup, that’s me.”

“Great. I have a job offer for you. But first I want to know, is there anything you wouldn’t do?”

Now, when someone asks that question, it’s a sure giveaway that you’re being set up. I didn’t take the bait.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess that depends. What did you have in mind?”

“Porno,” he answered abruptly.

I laughed, thankful that I didn’t have to retract an “I’ll do anything” statement. But this was too good. I had to find out more.

“What would the job entail?” I asked.

He hesitated, then said, “Acting out a few scenes in a gay porno.”

I paused for dramatic effect.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to pass.”

“I’ll donate five thousand dollars.”

“Sorry, but thanks anyways.”