It's a Pretty Good Life

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to my friend Dan about the ending of the classic movie It's a Wonderful Life -- where George Bailey's friends show up and dump a bunch of cash on the card table. Dan was wondering about what happened to all of the money. I reminded him that there's a shot of Cousin Eustace tallying up the haul on his adding machine, indicating that there would be a fair and complete accounting of all of the proceeds. It seemed like an interesting example of the efficacy of a single image in filmmaking, conveying a chunk of information in only a few seconds of screen time.

Lately, I've been feeling a bit like George Bailey, a man at the end of his rope, so to speak. Wondering if everything I've done was all for nothing. Thinking that I don't really count much in this world. Years ago, I came to Hollywood to fulfill my dreams, and despite my best efforts -- I seem to have come up short.
Way short.
It was a risk coming out here, but it was one I was willing to take. One I felt I had to take. But, here's the thing about risk -- sometimes you don't succeed. We've all heard the aphorisms, like, nothing ventured, nothing gained or fortune favors the bold or leap and the net will appear. But what about all of those who took a risk and failed miserably? Where are those aphorisms? How come they never mention that part? Win some, lose some doesn't really cut it. How about, win one or two, then lose everything? Sounds more accurate to me.
Sure, I've had a few successes. I had a pretty cool stint as a reality TV producer. But I got a little sidetracked over the past few years and the industry seems to have moved on without me. I feel like I may have missed my window. I've also been involved in several very promising projects, with some talented and hard-working people, but each one has foundered on the shoals of Hollywood indifference.
Risks taken, crickets chirping.
I guess the reason this was all hitting me at once was the fact that I was facing a pretty big birthday, a milestone birthday, though it felt more like a millstone to me -- weighing me down, crushing my soul, grinding my dreams into dust. Fun stuff.  I planned to go back east and visit my family, hoping that would help to minimize the feelings of dread and despair. But my family has suffered our share of misfortune the past few years and I wasn't really expecting a big celebration, or any celebration. Just being around them was all I wanted.
My sister had other ideas. She wanted my birthday to be special. She wanted me to feel special. That's what she does -- she takes care of people. She makes us feel special. So she contacted several of my oldest and closest friends and invited them to a party at her house. And... they came! They interrupted their own lives and traveled across state lines, crossing bridges and paying tolls and buying overpriced gas, to come to my birthday party. And my family was there and we had food and cake and prosecco (my sister loves prosecco) and presents and it was, well, wonderful.
As I stood in the kitchen surrounded by my longtime friends, some newer friends, and family members ranging from age 8 to 88, I felt like George Bailey -- but not the desperate, frightened George Bailey who jumps off the bridge -- I felt like the George Bailey at the end of the movie, "the richest man in town." George finds a book atop the pile of cash with an inscription from Clarence the guardian angel that reads: "Remember, no man is a failure who has friends." And that's exactly how I felt. Just like in the movies.

Meanwhile, I have this other friend here in LA who has spent his whole life working in the movie business. He's decided that after helping so many others make movies, it's time for him to start making them himself -- so he hired me to write a screenplay. Literally "hired" me, as in paid me money. It's the whole reason I moved out here in the first place. You might say it's a dream come true. Now, we're not talking a ton of money here -- probably a lot less than the pile on George Bailey's card table -- but, hey, I'll take it. And once we start production, he wants me to direct as well. Which is very, very cool.

So, at this point I would have to say that life is pretty good.
And sometimes, even wonderful.