Dan Bessie - Reeling Through Hollywood: How I Spent 40 Fabulous Years in Film and Never Made a Nickel

• DONT BUY THIS BOOK if the price leaves you without enough for a frappuccino at Starbucks.
• DONT BUY THIS BOOK to discover who slept with whom, who beat up his lover, or other tidbits of juicy gossip.
• DONT BUY THIS BOOK expecting to discover the secret of finding an agent, selling a screenplay, or landing a starring role in the next Quentin Tarantino flick.
• DO BUY THIS BOOK because you think it might provide fresh insight into survival in a wonderful but crazy industry, because you enjoy finding out about how someone else made it, and because it looks like it might be a good read.

Something about me: first, the subtitle. Thats a bit of a humbug; I did make a nickel. I went from starvation wages in 1956 to more than $1000 a week for most of 1974 (about $6000 in todays dollars). But it didnt last; there were also long dry spells, with paychecks as scarce as wombats in Wal-Mart. During the lean years I lugged water heaters around the stockroom of a swimming pool supply company, snoozed through insulting pitches about how any simpleton could get rich in vacuum cleaner sales, and borrowed my way into outlandish debt with a friendly credit union. Most of you have never heard of me. But Ive had my fifteen minutes in the sun, been involved in three feature films, and have churned out more than a hundred short films, writing, directing and raising the money for most of them. And Ive relished almost every moment. On balance, its been a great life.

Scattered throughout the book youll find several well-known names. Ive had an encounter with each one. Some, a mere handshake or a quick hello. Others I knew well. But mainly I try to bring them in when my association related to a project I was involved in.

Names aside, I think youll like the book. For those curious about the odd and famous, its filled with enough filmic foolishness to keep you turning pages. Theres a pinch of sex, along with a smidgen of politics, and a bit about the tribulations of family. All part of the great carnival of life. On the other hand, if nonstop libido, larceny, and nose powder are your turn-ons, read no further; go pilfer a copy of Julia Phillips wonderfully glib, rarely insightful, and ultimately sad disgourgarama of Hollywood angst and nastiness, Youll Never Eat Lunch in This Town Again (1991).

Metaphorically, yearning to work in film can make you feel like youre on a carousel; every time your horse comes around and you reach out to snatch the brass ring, it eludes you. Or you boil over with jealousy when the guy or gal ahead of you grabs it. In Hollywood, tens of thousands lust for the brass ring. Most eventually end up selling insurance, painting sets for junior college theatricals, get into software to earn their BMWs or become pastry chefs. Nothing wrong with that, the world can always use a superior lemon chiffon pie.

Still, as with any art form, good movie making takes dedication and persistence and above all an immense passion. Mastering the skills that result in lasting or memorable work involves time and patience. Creativity is a stern mistress and the apprenticeship can be long and frustrating. Though even if you fall on your face you might still stand a chance of slipping into a quirky kind of fame. Witness Ed Wood, and Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959).

Movies, music, sports, publishing, television, and politics: these are the romantic magnets of our day. And they are enormously influential. The stars, singers, sluggers, authors, producers and senators who populate these arenas are held up as icons, glittering examples of the success we should all struggle to emulate. Some earn megabucks. By comparison, most teachers, who play a vastly more important role in molding the character of our future citizens, are penniless beggars. Were encouraged to believe that the new SUV, a bulging wallet, Paris Hilton on one arm, or waking up next to Ben Affleck is a truer measure of greatness than is a steady competence, the smile of a handicapped kid weve helped complete some task, or seeing to it that a lonely elder has someone to talk to. Or simply being a decent human being.

Sure, altruism is rewarded; we get a minute and a half of it every three days on News at Eleven. But stack that up against Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and what have you got? Like constantly reaching for the brass ring, too many fall for the media hype. And I dont mean to put down sweating hard to catch the ring. But instead of giving up, maybe those who are never likely to catch it need to measure success in a different way.

Thats why I wrote this book. By reading about how I managed to survive forty years inside a rarely profitable, sometimes maddening, but often deliciously rewarding profession, I hope youll learn to recognize success in the way Ive come to: by enjoying the process. Once you can do that, even if youre never able to send your daughter to Harvard or watch a neighbors jaw drop when he spots the glitzy new Mercedes in your drive, youve caught the brass ring.

a word to wannabes

Reeling Through Hollywood was also written with you in mind. All you brave souls who keep trying to wedge your way into the movie business, especially those of you whove had your ass bitten more times than you can count. Youre the folks who mortgaged your Toyotas, Grandmas cameo collection (with her permission, I hope), or your bungalow in Wahpeton, North Dakota, to finance your first film. Maybe your girlfriend has dumped you for a guy who pulls in six figures at Microsoft while you deliver pizzas or sizzle fries at McDonalds, then pop No-Doze until 4 a.m. as you sweat over your new high-concept screenplay. Or your boyfriend is pissed because you slog through fourteen-hour days as a free production assistant on