No one tells you no or questions your judgement. You are now embarking on a film budgeted at $300 million and then, due to your own stupidity, arrogance and greed, if the budget goes up to $600 million dollars; the budget of a small country.
The movie crashes and burns with no one showing up at the theatres. Between the marketing and production costs; $1 billion dollars is flushed down the toilet. People are fired. Careers lost. A studio goes into bankruptcy. Multi-zillion dollar lawsuits everywhere.
You are now persona non-grata. No one returns your phone calls. You are a pariah and completely
unemployable. Your career is toast, down the crapper. Your costly jet-set lifestyle, ex-wives, kids, that cost you millions is done. Your life as you know it is over. All anyone can think of is pissing on your grave.
Imagine…
Cam…The Man, The Myth, The Legend… Meet Cam Strongstein, our star director. A first class
prick. Everyone is afraid of him. Everyone kisses his arse because he is the ultimate Hollywood
power player.
Suddenly, one colossal flop, based on a really shitty idea that wreaked more havoc in Hollywood than the Northridge earthquake. Five years later Cam is bankrupt, broke as hell, out of rehab
and living in a shitty apartment in North Hollywood with a shitty 15-year-old car and desperate for any kind of job but even more desperate to get back in the game. If he was younger, he’d be turning tricks on the street just to get back in.
He starts calling all his old “friends” if he really had any. People he’s fucked over, bailed on, punked out, buried and never returned phone calls.
Hollywood’s good graces.
