The Russian and the 500 million Euro

A few years ago I had the good fortune with being associated to two super-huge action movie franchises. Mission: Impossible and Die Hard. It's not surprising to learn that when such a thing occurs, one starts to receive various degrees of attention; be it from the press, squirmy managers wanting to represent you to old school friends. I received these and more, one in particular being that of somebody stating they could assist in the financing of a movie I was producing. Two in fact. Yes, they, being an independent investor could finance both feature films entirely.

Initial contact was made via a friend who once starred in Baywatch. I had previously written another sequel spec to yet another action franchise owned by Warners and wrote a significant role for the former red swimsuit wearing babe. It wasn't long before the words "I know a guy who knows a guy who can put you in touch with a guy." came into conversation one day and thus began my correspondence with said guy who could lend financial assistance. 

I spoke with two close producer friends. One from Germany. One from Australia. "I think dis iz our larst conva sashon, Benny!" said the German, chuckling, yet seriously meaning what he had just stated down the phone to me. "I just say go for it, mate. Ya never know!" said my Australian pal. "Russians and movies don't mix, Benny!" said the German. Yes, did I forget to mention that the investor of potential millions was Russian? Well, I'm mentioning it now.


So, whilst on board my Easy Jet flight to Milan, where it was arranged for me to meet said investor, I started to laugh to myself. "I am flying to Milan to meet a potential investor for my big budgeted movie. Two big budgeted movies." I said to myself, just before a moment of split-second panic took place in the form of a quaking, shaky hand and fast, heavy breaths.


I arrived at my hotel and called the investor, who then informed me with this: "I am not the investor. I am investor's lawyer. I speak on behalf of investor." Well, I was there now, so I may as well meet nonetheless, I thought to myself, so I asked when and where and received the second, little nugget: "I will call you in a moment on where to meet." I wait. I wait some more. My cell phone battery was not waiting so much. And then it came. "We will meet at the 'x' hotel." I ask what time and then he continues with "Wait. I call you." I wait. I wait some more. I thought, actually, I'll just look it up online and head over there and maybe save some time, get some food perhaps. So, upon looking online for the hotel, I discover that there are in fact two of these hotels with exactly the same name, at opposite sides of the city. I call him up and mention this tiny fact and ask him which one I am to meet at, to which he responds with, yes, you guessed it, "Wait. I will you call."

I clamber into a cab, frustrated and tell the driver to head to whatever one is most popular. Enroute I receive the call to say "Two o'clock, 'x' hotel. Main one." I was heading to the right one. 

Upon arrival at the hotel meeting place, I waltzed in and headed for the bar. It was empty and reminded me of a saloon from 1878 in Texas. Dark, with shards of light, jetting across the dusty wooden floorboards and a barman in a white shirt and black bow tie, complete with white towel, polishing a glass and wiping down the counter. Gulp.


He looked up at me and nodded his head to acknowledge my presence. I approached the bar and asked for a Coke. When pulling out my wallet, the barman reached across to my hand and said "No. No, for you, no pay." I frowned at this and glanced around briefly to see if he was actually speaking to someone else, but no, he was speaking to me in his very Russian accent. I smile as he fixed my drink and I took it to a table and chair near by only to receive a loud, fake cough, drawing my attention round to the barman again. He gestured to another chair and said "Please, this chair. Sit here." I frown at this statement, too and look at the chair being referred to. Upon inspection, the back of the chair had the word 'King' carved into the wood. I shrug and sit myself down, checking my watch. 13:30.


At around 13:45 I look up and out of the window to a pool to see a big, beefy looking man in a suit and shades and occasionally touching his ear. Squinting, I noticed it was an earpiece of some sort. The man looked alert and touched his ear every so often and did a perimeter of the pool. He then stood by a doorway outside.

At 13:50 a similarly dressed man, with a bruised eye and bandaged hand stomped into the bar. His footsteps echoed as he entered and he, too, had an earpiece. He sat down in a far corner, by a door.

At 13:55 an elegant, slender young woman, dressed in a tight white dress and dark Gucci shades and high heels clip clops her way upon the hard floorboards across the bar, sat down in another corner, crossed her legs, dipped thin, pale hand into her expensive Mark Jacobs handbook, retrieving a magazine and began to read it.

As the time raced by, I felt eyes from all angles were watching me. I began to fidget and toy with the folders which contained the various documents and relevant details of my film projects, looking at the pictures of talent who were attached to the film or talent who could be attached if financed came into place.


The man outside did another perimeter of the poolside and I saw a quick flash of a holstered firearm within his jacket as he walked. He tilted my head and then glanced at my watch. It was 15:00. 


At 15:05 I reclined into the chair and it was then that I felt a hand clutch my shoulder. I jolted with fright and gasped. I must have been falling asleep. Maybe it was the barman waking me up, but as I turned, I was shadowed by the towering figure looming above, staring down at me.


"You are Ben. I am here. Let's talk." It was the Russian, but which one? The lawyer or the investor? "When I tell you I was lawyer, I wanted to see if you would still be here. I thought you would leave. I am not lawyer." he continued, baffling the heck out of me. "I am he. I am investor." he said, chuckling and slapping my arm as he did so. He was a big man, well built, well groomed, in a well-expensive suit. I slid my feet under the coffee table, hiding them, embarrassed by the scuffed brown Marks and Spencer shoes I had on. It was a waste of time and thought as the coffee table was glass and you could see them magnified even more so through it, so instead I just straightened and rolled my feet back behind and under the chair.


"Which movie we make? One, two, three?" he asked me, keenly and still without any apology for his lateness. The woman in white caught my eye as she lowered her sunglasses, looked over to our table and sighed, a sigh which echoed throughout the empty bar, causing my non-lawyer investor to look up. He spouted something in Russian, aggressively and she shrugged, "Nyet!" she replied. I understood that much. 


We discussed the two projects and he became more and more interested and excited. "Now comes money talk." he said. "How can I get money to you?" he asked me. I asked him what he meant exactly. "I can get it to your house, in armored car, but that will cost you 7% more on top of what you will owe me. This may prove difficult. I could -" he paused and nodded to himself, then taking hold of my arm, he stood up, pulling me upwards with him, causing me to do a slight hop. This man was strong and intimidating, with a crazed stared. He was Putin-esque.


The man said something in Russian to the barman who nodded his head and walked to the end of the bar. The man with the earpiece moved round closer and I was led to a door. The door was opened and a light turned on. Inside was..

 

"500 million Euro. I cannot get rid. You understand?" I stared at the bulking mass of half a billion in Euro bank notes stacked up before my very eyes, within a stock room of a hotel bar in the city of Milan, Italy. "We could... strap..." he pressed his hands against my chest as he spoke. ".. say 20 million to your body today and then we discuss what happen to the rest later when you get home. Yes?" Was this a joke? Was there a hidden camera show in Italy I was unaware of which preyed on hungry film makers from the UK, foolish enough to go along with this kind of situation? Nope, it was real.


I pointed at the length boxes along the side of the room and remarked on whether or not they were filled with cash, too. "No, inside are probably guns. AK or RPG. You know the type of thing?" I certainly did not know that type of thing. In fact, this type of thing was fast becoming something I would write in a script. Had I gone mad? I really didn't want to have my very own John McClane moment. That was for my Dad. He can deal with all that, I'll just write it. "It is difficult to me to get rid of such large amounts. You understand?" he kept asking if I understood, which I clearly did not. How could I relate to this man in any shape or form? I chuckled nervously and said something along the lines of "you could make a coat and clothes made out of money." the man even nodded and perhaps was pondering this for a moment. "So what we do?" he said, clapping his hands and having the door closed and locked for him. 


"It doesn't have to be rushed. Things take time." I replied, which he nodded and probably pondered this made perfect sense. He patted me hard on the back, spun me round and looked me dead in the eye. "This could be good or this could be bad." he said, staring at me. I instantly thought of when my German friend said to me that this is probably the last conversation I will have with him. I was foolish. Naive. I was on my own and not many people really knew where I was or who I was with. Then again, neither did I. What did this man mean? "This could be good movie or this could be bad movie. I don't care which. I just need to spend 100 million."He clutches my shoulders in a Spock-like Vulcan death-grip, gritting his teeth like Nicholson's Joker in Batman and taking a deep breath, looking into m eyes as he towered above me. My mind started racing and I started to think about that German guy, Armin Meiwes, who was in fact a cannibal. I wondered if I, too, was going to be eaten alive, but then my mind split and I disagreed with myself that this was a silly thing to think as I'm quite a skinny bloke and I'd probably be more useful as a toothpick than for a cannibal seeking a hearty meal, but then Armin Meiwes struck again. Didn't he eat another bloke's penis?

"You OK? - Of course. Wait." said the Russian, as he turned around and relaxed his clutches. After several seconds of Russian between him and the guard-like man, he nodded to me, said he may or may not  be in touch, but if I wanted to get in touch, then that was acceptable. He then left the room, followed by the heavily sighing woman in white and then the pool-side guy. I turned to the barman, but he, too was gone. It was all so very weird.


Later that evening I headed out for dinner, on my own, into deepest Milan some place and ending up recounting the event to a waiter. He laughed so hard I thought he was going to choke. He patted me on the back and said that he plans on opening his own restaurant one day and that I will be a very special guest whenever I am in town. "You want your movie to be made? Of course you do and it will. I am sure." My new-found waiter friend said, as he poured my wine. "You are a writer and this is a life-experience for you to learn from and to tell people about. If you had not come to Milan, you would not have found this place and not have had a great meal and great wine for free." he continued. He called me a year and a half later to say he has his own restaurant and remembers me and my story.


And what of the Russian and the 500 million Euro? Let's just say I'll leave them all there, in Milan, where I found them. 

In Hollywood, there may be no such thing as a free lunch, but in Milan, there was certainly a free dinner.

More Stories from the Trenches (Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop - Part 3

This is the Part Three, the final part of my guest blog for the guys at Stage32.com, which was originally posted on their site back in November 2011. The original can be found here:

Guest post - More Stories from the Trenches (Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop - Part 3)

Editor's note: This is part 3 in a series of guest posts authored by Ben Trebilcook. Check out Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop (Part 1).

RB

DUAL ROLE

I'm a Screenwriter through and through. I've written scripts based on other people's ideas, loglines and treatments. I've sold mine and even sold pages of scripts, bizarrely. I've been paid weekly, monthly, half up front and half on receipt of the finished product. I've been paid by the page. I've negotiated my own fees and terms that suit me and that suit those hiring me. There comes a time, however, when your passion for a particular script you have written takes hold of you in a way you just cannot explain. Be it the story as a whole or the central character or the genre or what the character does. Their occupation or purpose. Some part of it sucks you in and attaches itself to you inside and out. You and it become one and you want to see it to its fruition, no matter how long it takes. I'm a creative producer. I like finding the talent who best suit the characters I have written. I approach acting or directing talents either directly, because they're friends of mine, or via their representative. I've been fortunate to be able to send material to agents and managers for their clients to read because of the producing hat I have worn at the time. In a producing role, I have dealt with lots of agents who have responded in quite an off-ish manner, saying the script wouldn't suit their client or 'it is not a project nor character my client would care to be involved with'. I've since gone on to meet with said clients and discovered their reps hadn't even mentioned the project and when discussing and receiving the script, they've gone on to love it! No wonder certain star talents do the same old project types over and over. I'd say they either feel content and don't wish to venture out of their comfort zones and thus enjoy the pay-packet they receive, or that their agent doesn't pass them different material, making the talent feel nobody is penning anything different for them, genre or character-wise. I was chatting with my stunt director pal, Peter, who's up for directing my spy picture 'Vauxhall Crossed' and he said he'd just love to shave Hugh Grant's head, beef him up, stick a gun in his hand and make him one mean badass.

It's a different feeling being a writer / producer or producer than simply being a 'writer'. It's almost like having a platinum card as opposed to your normal run of the mill current account Bank Card. Film is one, big club, but there are definitely different levels of the club. Being a creative producer isn't enough to get your project up another level. It helps to attract the 'named' talent of course, but you also have to attract the financial folk. The internet for me and especially the social networking sites have been a valuable tool to aid me in that quest. Just type in 'film finance' or 'private equity' into Twitter and see who's talking about it. Investors aren't just buying into a script or a movie, it's practically an entire universe. Transmedia is becoming massive and it's so exciting to have other creative discuss with you the different avenues an element of your project could go down.

DEADER COUNTRY:

I'm listed as a producer on the film 'Deader Country'. It's an Australian schlock horror sequel. A good friend said a guy he knows would like to use my name in order to gain finance. What! My name can't even get me finance, how could it get anyone else? After much correspondence, sighing and hesitation and saying the word 'no' and 'OK' a lot, I agreed to write a few scenes for the film. It was a film that didn't even have a full script, let alone a proper outline. It was set in Australia, with an alien zombie or something roaming around and infecting people. I said I would shoot some footage here in the UK, setting it inside a building, so it could double for somewhere in Australia. I know a fair few Aussie actresses, one in particular, my trusted friend Angela Peters, who I cast in everything and will continue to do so. She's the most genuine, fun, helpful, respected, respectful, professional and gifted actress you could hope to work with. I called Angie up and also my producing partner, who was an Exec in a division for one of the majors. He had access to some cool HD cameras and also an office block. I penned myself a role and on a Saturday and one evening during one weekday, we shot a bunch of fun footage. Blood, zombies, running, eerie stairwells and corridors and the obligatory horror shower scene complete with topless actress (no, not Angie, but another very willing actress friend). Some intentionally cheesy acting followed. We even shot some behind the scenes footage for the DVD. Why some of what we filmed was left out, I have no idea, but what we shot, I think was better than the entire film put together! I was promoting it online for people to buy and I hadn't even seen the finished product, let alone a single penny. I bought my own copy and felt quite embarrassed towards those who had purchased it. One buyer said to me: "I liked the bits with you in it, but the rest is like Gothic horror soft porn." I didn't mind doing the guy a favor. He loves films and me helping him got his film financed and he made a film and got it out there. He's making films at least.
Hey, we all have at least one dodgy piece of work in our repertoire, right? I'm sure it won't stop there for me either! That's another thing about some talents starting out. Writing, acting or whatever, they want to be in an instant hit immediately, turning their noses up at the little work, because they might break a nail, bust a gut, be on YouTube, or have a non-speaking part or God-forbid, end up in a soap opera! Don't be afraid to get your hands dirty, because this business isn't really that clean at all.

A COUPLE OF CURRENT PROJECTS

Knockout:
As martial-arts projects are trending like crazy, it was time to fast-track a script of mine. I know a champion martial-artist / actress in Zara Phythian and wanted to write something for her, so reworked an idea for her and my friend Sean Brosnan. It's a very heart-felt story about a young woman, distraught from witnessing the murder of her parents as a child, develops her own unique martial art by playing video games. It's because of this she suddenly finds herself embroiled in the world of underground fighting It's a $1m and under picture and we have some terrific talent on board. We're still seeking to secure finance as we were let down heavily a couple of months ago.

VAUXHALL CROSSED:
It's an ambitious project and has gone through many guises. The central character, 'Daisy', began her life in a short I wrote, back in my supermarket days in 1994. Daisy was an adventurous, two-gun toting female, who studied antiques and history. That's another aspect of this business. Lawsuits. I've sued and won cases and I have attempted to sue and been advised to stop as it was costing me a fortune, but if something is unjust in life, you pursue, no matter what the cost. Moving on swiftly, top dog lawyers stated to me that if I could write a 'female Indiana Jones' then I could certainly create a 'female James Bond' and so my 'Daisy' character soon evolved and matured rapidly into exactly that. She grew up and got herself a career in the Secret Intelligence Service. Daisy Scarlett was born. A character and screenplay I wrote for actress Kate Beckinsale, five or so years back. She would have been perfect. It's another story regarding agents with that matter and perhaps kept for the pub only. Writing, to me, can also be likened to painting. A touch-up here, an additional brush-stroke there. You can forever change and tweak your own work. Tastes change, too. Audiences and expectations change. Dialogue becomes dated and boundaries can be pushed. I'm fortunate to be friends with Pierce Brosnan's son, Sean. A great actor in his own right and a talent I've written a few projects for. When I heard Pierce and Tarantino had discussed reworking Casino Royale, I leapt for joy! How awesome would a Tarantino James Bond movie be, with Pierce still in the role? It'd be brilliant. It also had me thinking about my own spy project and that it had to be more realistic. My Dad lent me his experiences yet again and arranged for me to meet some spies and discuss my script. One who read it said, 'taking into consideration the commercial factor, it was quite on-the-money.' Finding finance has been a crazy journey and could be another blog all together. I have recently decided the project needs an overhaul and complete shake-up.

I'd like to thank the guys here at Stage 32 and various other interested talents and film fans out there. Whatever your dream or goal in life, pursue it. Without a doubt be realistic, but reject rejection. An actor friend, Chris Showerman, signs off with 'All Things Possible'. He's absolutely right.

I'll end on a joke:

How many producers does it take to change a light-bulb?
Does it have to be a light-bulb

Mission: Impossible 3 (Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop - Part 2)

This is Part Two of my guest blog from my good friends at Stage32.com. The original posting can be found here, amongst the many brilliant talents who have also provided insights and valuable experiences of this often peculiar business.

Guest post - Mission: Impossible 3 (Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop - Part 2)

Ben Trebilcook

Editor's note: This is part 2 in a series of guest posts authored by Ben Trebilcook. Check out Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop (Part 1).

RB

I soon received a message left on my answer machine. It was from a development exec at Cruise/Wagner, inquiring about another action screenplay I had written and upon hearing of my connection to the Die Hard series, they were curious to read what else I had in my desk drawer. Once the folk at C/W had read my script and after several discussions with me and my Venice-CA-based agent, I was asked if I could place Tom Cruise's character from the Mission: Impossible films into this action script of mine. Of course I could! The original script was entitled 'Breakneck' and had a CIA Operative chasing down an ex-girlfriend, who was also a former spy, who was blowing up wonders of the world, trying to gain his attention, but causing extreme tension between China and Russia instead. The ex-girlfriend was more than a little scorned. It was mentioned in the UK film magazine Total Film that John Cusack was circling the project. I'm dubious about that, but who knows. I re-worked 'Breakneck' to fit Tom's Ethan Hunt and the IMF Team. I'm such an admirer of Emilio Estevez that I set the story as a prequel to the first film, bringing back Emilio's character. I received message from Emilio a month or so ago. Apart from what veggies he's recently harvested, he said he thought he was much more believable than Ving Rhames as a computer hacker MIT nerd and that Tom was bummed 'they' killed him off! I wanted to bring him back.

When 9/11 occurred, action movies were pretty put on hold, with people questioning what entertainment was. I mean, whatever your thoughts are, conspiracy or alternative theories or emotional heartache overload, you can't disagree that the events of that day played out like a Hollywood disaster movie. In fact, in one of my M:I:3 drafts, I had a light aircraft crash into the Statue of Liberty! It was a very exciting time. I recall my script and the movie was being discussed with Ang Lee, who left to do The Hulk. I heard Darren Fincher was going to helm the movie, then Oliver Stone! Amazing talents. It eventually went to Joe Carnahan, with Scarlet Johansson and Kenneth Branagh on board, too. After another stab at the screenplay, this time whacking in human organ trafficking, Ethan Hunt getting married, speedboat chasing down the Zambezi River and seeing my name with the awesome Frank Darabont's on IMDB, the project and indeed myself, were placed on hold. Embargoes and NDAs aside, I was told the agent I had wasn't powerful enough. I was also told my agent had ruined certain aspects of a potential deal for me. I was in London. Everyone else in California.

Every few months or so, my agent would ask me to send out a few Dollars to cover faxes, post and stamps, etc. Was this normal practice? I had no idea. I'd oblige and pop a fifty in the post. This was before the days of emailing a script. There was no 'convert to PDF' option for me. There was no fancy Final Draft software for me. It'd write a script in MS Word, tabbing five times for a character's name and then tabbing 3 times to type their dialogue, printing it all out on special US sized paper, three hole punching them, getting the beige card for a cover and binding them with three brass fasteners. I then FedEx'd the beautiful looking screenplay across the pond and it cost a fortune each and every time!

I honed my craft by reading other people's screenplays, watching more, reading forums, despite being instructed not to read certain ones. The feeling I had when I first called up Fox eighteen months or so earlier started to creep back inside me. My agent would never once get me work, arrange any meetings, discuss me with any producers or studios. He'd simply send out a script to those who I got in touch with beforehand, with a cover note saying 'per your recent correspondence with my client, please find enclosed the screenplay 'x'. The racing heart pumping frustration kicked in and I instructed my agent to send scripts to certain talents who had their own production companies, saying I had written 'x' Screenplay especially for them. Jennifer Love Hewitt at Love Spell, Drew Barrymore at Flower Films, the list would go on. Somebody had to bite. I would email 'x' who would then agree to read 'x' if my agent sent 'x' to them. Fed Ex sent scripts to my robotic agent who would then send them on to whomever. After several of these, I decided to part company. I was doing all the work! I wondered if a manager would be any different. I thought I'd find out and so, after an extremely bizarre experience consisting of much exhausting, excitement and confusion aplenty regarding the Die Hard 4 sequel (I had penned drafts to two very different Die Hard 4 stories. One had John McClane with his daughter in the Caribbean, battling it out on an island with violent wreck looters on the hunt for Nazi Gold. The other had the famed character back in the Nakatomi Corporation, but this time in Japan, where his son was working. McClane visits his son and discovers his boss and the company are Yakuza. The former, for some reason, gained the most press attention. My own father was in that line of work and had some very McClane-esque experiences of his own, so I base a lot of my work on his policing and intelligence service working life.

I acquired a manager, who I think contacted me first. I went to LA to sign with him and stayed a while, making some great friends, but once again, he never got me work or any meetings or bigged up any of my scripts. I was doing all the correspondences myself. Agents of actors liked my screenplays, but they weren't selling! I didn't understand. I'd set up meetings myself and wondered what I was doing with this characters, who seemed better suited in an episode of Arrested Development than anywhere else. I'd gain my own writing jobs, uncredited, without advice, but carrying out work doing 'quick-fix-sign this NDA' rewrites. 'Untitled Teen Comedy Sequel', 'Untitled Extreme Sports Action Thriller', I even managed to get a Western to Robert De Niro at Tribeca, which I had written for him and Hugh Grant. I pitched it as 'Lethal Weapon meets Unforgiven' and apparently De Niro thought it to be quite funny. It wasn't intended to be funny at all, but if Robert De Niro thinks so, then quickly so did I! I thought acquiring an Entertainment Attorney would supersede the agent and manager I had previously, but he, too, would turn out much the same. Was I destined to have poor representation? To this day, I still don't have any. Each one actually told me to stay away from the main agencies like WMA, ICM, CAA and UTA. Maybe they had a gripe with them when they worked for them and thus set up on their own, I don't know. As I was writing for certain talents, actors and even directors and getting scripts directly to their reps and gaining their interest in such a way that some wanted to attach themselves to certain projects of mine, I asked myself this: What was I? A writer / producer? Oh dear.

Stay tuned for part 3 – More Stories from the Trenches and What's Next...

Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop (Part 1)

In November, 2011, my friends at the awesome creative networking site, Stage32.com, asked if I'd do a guest blog for them. The answer of course was a big, fat 'yes'.

For those that know me, I do tend to ramble. Keeping my guest blog nailed down to a few humble words was going to be anything but, so RB and Curt kindly allowed me the freedom for a three-parter, spanning as many weeks.

You can catch the original posting of Part One here, however, below I am posting it on here, too.

Guest post - Tom Cruise Told Me Not to Name-drop (Part 1)

Ben Trebilcook

Editor's note: This guest post is authored by Ben Trebilcook. Ben is 36 and is from London, UK. From an incredibly young age, he always wanted to be part of filmmaking, inspired first by Jim Henson and George Lucas. He wanted to pursue a career in Special Effects, with a prominent interest in monsters, however this step was short-lived when a TV commercial he was working on, resulted in a model's long, beautiful hair becoming caught in a vacuum cleaner, suspended from a ceiling. Writing was his strength and so he began penning short sketches with a school friend for which they would both act in and film. After gaining diplomas in Fine Art, Graphic Design and English and during hard-slogs working in a supermarket, Trebilcook would study all aspects of filmmaking, under the watchful eyes of the talents behind the Monty Python movies and then focus solely on Screenwriting. He has penned scripts for UK gaming companies and has worked on earlier drafts of Mission: Impossible: 3 and specs for Die Hard 4 and Under Siege 3. In London, he is the Head Judge at The Rob Knox Film Festival (Rob was an actor in Harry Potter who was tragically murdered in 2008 and the festival is held in his memory, promoting and encouraging new film talent). Trebilcook often counsels young offenders and disaffected teens in South London. He is currently producing the martial-arts movie 'Knockout' and the spy picture 'Vauxhall Crossed'.

Ben's blog entry is so informative and instructional, we have decided to list it in 3 parts. Today, part 1.

We're thrilled to have Ben as an active - very active - member of Stage 32. He's a true asset to the community.

Check out Ben's profile here.

RB

Tom Cruise told me not to name-drop

When I was asked to write a guest blog for the guys at Stage 32, I immediately thought 'what an honor! Brilliant!' But then, in an exam-final-paper kind of way, a reality-check kicked in. What on Earth could I write that could both inform and enlighten as well as possibly educate and entertain? Especially when centered around my experiences in film. With most apparent problems in life, the solution is, more often than not, staring one simply in the face. So there, in my questioning myself, I answered me, too. I'll reel off a bite-size chunk of my experiences in film. I think it's unique. In fact, everyone's path should be. What works for one, won't necessarily work for another.

When pursuing a career in Screenwriting, I didn't know of anyone's path, to be honest. I just got hold of an imaginary machete and pretty much hacked my way through the celluloid jungle. I zig-zagged this way and that, in an extremely naïve fashion, not really having clue nor insight as to what I was getting myself into. I was by no means cocky, however I did have drive. I still do have a great deal of drive. You need it in this business and it is exactly that, a business. I believed it was for those who loved film. Of course it is! It was FOR those who love film. Those being the audience, the watchers, the viewers, the people sat in the cinemas. This business has those in the industry serving those who are out of the industry. We're delivering a product to the masses, just like every other kind of company.

I'm in a cynical mood. Can you tell? This industry can flip your emotions six ways from Sunday. Delusional and driven, juvenile and misgiven, successful, regretful, overwhelmed, underwhelmed, upbeat, downbeat, intoxicating fumes and totally consumed. Always striving to succeed, pushing yourself harder to be better than your previous, be clever, be flattering, be smart, be devious. Is it good enough to just do your best? No, you have to exhaust yourself and more, as this business is one big test.

I've written dozens of pages for this blog, each entirely different to this one. Was I satisfied with the first 'draft blog'? Elements of it perhaps? No! All of it! It's how I feel about my scripts. Whatever the genre, the first draft is an achievement in itself. I've written something. Created characters. Created their environment, their universe. I took control of their emotions and led them on a journey. Each word describes the scene and the image of which is imprinted in my mind and under my eyelids. Feel that sense of achievement, even if you write just one page.

Throughout the past hundred years, Screenwriters have always had a raw deal. Sure, we've had the rock star scribes like Eszterhas and Shane Black, but I'm talking about general perception. The other writers who adore their craft. Those who live and breathe the word. Those who type, those who scribble on napkins in restaurants or bars whilst their significant other or pal or buddy is in the restroom or chatting up a guy or a girl, or if they're just sat there, waiting. Those writers watch. Observe. Taking in everything. Soaking up their environments, the conversations they hear, the mannerisms they see, the emotions they sense and experience, the people they witness. Those writers walk the life. Collecting all the things one views, storing them in your mind. In your virtual desk drawer or virtual filing cabinet and an eventual virtual library of life experiences. Each awaiting their time when they and you are ready to place them onto paper, forming a character, sparking dialogue, creating a scene. A Screenwriter's life is non-stop research. A forever-active mind. Alert. Aware of everything. Like a hawk. Like a wolf. Like jaguar. Not much escapes your watchful eyes and strained ears. You're a gunslinger, man. Like Bruce Lee in Enter The Dragon when he says "The art of fighting without fighting", true Screenwriters have in their soul 'the art of writing without writing'.

I put out the question to people on various social networking sites, Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin and of course Stage 32, asking if there was anything in particular people would like me to know, relevant to the blog I was invited to write. I had lots of messages, so with the next few paragraphs, I'll hopefully be answering some curiosities and for those who quizzed me on certain topics.

AGENTS

When I started out and knew that writing was the path for me, I decided I should seek out an agent and try and gain representation. It was 1993. I was 18 years old. I was starting work full-time in a supermarket in London. I had made short films on a camcorder, acting in all of them with friends and I had written two feature-length screenplays. It was pre-internet and I would telephone and write letters to agencies, big and small in London and around the UK. Most replied with the same boring statement 'we don't accept unsolicited material', but some also said 'we're currently not taking on new clients' and some actually willing to accept to read some material, with it always coming back in the post, a few weeks later, unread. Disheartened, I never gave up writing, calling or inquiring, despite being unsuccessful in the UK to this day!

It was in 1998 when I penned a particular script. I was working a late shift in the supermarket. My lunch break was at 5pm. Something inside me shoved me forth, to the red telephone box outside the store. I dialed a number I had located from a book found in the library opposite and in three seconds, the five words which followed would lead me down a different and more exciting path. "Good morning, Twentieth Century Fox."

I would ask for their acquisition department and once put through, I took my deep breath and said: "Good morning, my name is Ben Trebilcook and I'm calling from London. I have written a script which some people over here believe would make a great Die Hard movie." The person on the other end of the line replied: "That sounds cool. Get your agent to get in touch with 'x' and we can discuss sending it over."

I had no agent. I had tried so hard to acquire one here in London, but why limit myself to my own country? The internet was coming alive thick and fast and I got myself online. Barely able to send an email, I managed to send exactly a hundred of them to agents in California. The email consisted of me saying that Fox wanted to read my script, which would make a great Die Hard 4 movie. I received three replies. One was from a literary agent who also doubled as a lawyer. I thought this was a plus and so signed with them. It just so happened that my new-found lawyer-agent went to law school with Skip Brittenham, Bruce Willis' attorney and so a direct line of communication between the two parties would be copied and faxed to me. Faxed! "Bruce isn't doing Die Hard IV for a least six years." Was one statement. "Get a big gun of a producer behind you, gain attention somehow, make a sale!" Was another. I was still working at the supermarket, slaving away, emptying bins and stocking tins, mopping spillages as shoplifters pillaged. I became a wines and spirits manager and wrote script after script at any given moment I had available to me. I churned them out like a factory production line. "Ben, telephone call Line One, please, Ben." Came a tannoy announcement. It was a national newspaper. It was a movie show on a TV channel. It was a magazine. It was a website. People in the UK media had gotten wind of a British kid, working in a London supermarket, had written a script for Die Hard 4. How on Earth? From rumors of a person within Fox at the time, to the agent I had, to the Willis camp giving me an extra helping hand boost, the gossip and hype around me spread fast. It was unheard of that a writer from the UK had written a screenplay to an action movie, let alone one to a successful franchise.

I had interest from producer Andy Vajna at his Cinergi firm. Was this the big gun producing attention expected of me? My heart was pumping with excitement. Remember, I'm still young, impressionable, ill-equipped for this business and not yet knowing that it is a business.

Coming up next – Mission Impossible 3...