The Deal by Peter Lefcourt

Author:Peter Lefcourt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Washington Square Press
Published: 2003-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

In order to implement the star’s notes Lionel became the official writer on the picture. Again. There was no point in getting Madison Kearney’s input on ways to make the script more Jewish. Besides being an anti-Semite, when he was lucid enough to be anti-anything, Madison Kearney did not relate well to general notes. You had to be very specific with him. You had to say things like, change the dog to a cat, or, more appropriately in his case, change the luger to a derringer.

Charlie went by the house in Silver Lake, found the writer sleeping it off on the couch, the same couch that Charlie had used during the writing of the first draft. He didn’t bother waking him up. Charlie left a check on the kitchen counter.

Lionel threw himself into the rewriting work with great energy. He went with Charlie to see Rabbi Gutterman and get his input at the synagogue up in the hills above Encino. It was one of those rare clear days when you could see to the other end of the San Fernando Valley.

“Not bad, huh?” the rabbi said, pointing out of the window of his office.

Charlie and Lionel nodded in unison.

“A day like today, you can see to Cucamonga and back.”

“Anyway, Rabbi, what do you think we can do to make the script more Jewish?” Charlie asked.

“This script? You could circumcise it, you could put tefillin on it, it wouldn’t be Jewish.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. The studio gives its notes and you start rewriting and pretty soon you have a whole new script.”

The rabbi looked at Charlie gravely and said, “Berns, I don’t know if I can put my name on this picture. It’s profane. It’s—you’ll pardon the expression—goyish. This picture, Berns, not only has nothing Jewish about it, but worse than that, it’s sacrilege.”

“Well, you see, that’s why we need you, Rabbi. We need to add a spiritual dimension.”

“Spiritual dimension? What are you talking about? Let me ask you something, Berns, would you put a pickle on a banana split?”

Charlie and Lionel shook their heads in unison.

“You’ve got a two-hundred-million-worldwide-gross picture here. You put a pickle on it, what’re you going to have?”

Charlie began to lose the thread of the conversation. He couldn’t tell which way the rabbi was moving in his argument. It was like some abstruse Talmudic debate.

“You have dreck. That’s what you have.”

“Well, if you feel that way, Rabbi…” Charlie got up, motioned to Lionel that they were leaving.

“Where you going?” the rabbi asked.

“It seems obvious to me that you don’t want to work on the picture.”

“Did I say that? Did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“I know what dreck means.”

“I should hope so. A Jewish boy like you should have some connection to his heritage. Sit down, Berns, we’ll talk.”

Charlie sat back down again. The rabbi lit a menthol cigarette in a mother-of-pearl holder, sat back in his chair for a moment.

“You know what the trouble with the world is,” he expostulated. “Everyone wants a spiritual dimension.

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