“Larry?”
[Sigh.]
“It’s Bud.”
[Heavy sigh.]
“You there? Larry?”
“What do you want, Bud?”
“I called to commiserate.”
“Commiserate?”
“You know – tell you how sorry I am and stuff.”
“Sorry? About what?”
“I just heard the five minute box office grosses for Mary Poppins on Mars – it’s a shame, pure and simple. A darn sha -“
“What five minute grosses? What are you talking about?”
“You know. Your movie opened today, and it grossed so much money five minutes after the box office opened. So little money, actually. I am so sorry.”
“The movie hasn’t even started yet! Screenings don’t start for 25 minutes!”
“I know.”
“Anything could happen.”
“Afraid not. We took the initial numbers and plugged them into a computer programme that calculates how much money a film will make based on the five minute gross. You’ll be lucky if you make back enough to cover Julie Andrews’ makeup. You hear me? You’ll be lucky if your grandchildren will get out from under the debt. You -“
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“I was just warming up.”
“Wait – wait just a minute! How do you know what my five minute grosses are? I don’t even have access to that information yet!”
“The Internet.”
“The Internet?”
“I got a nephew, smart as a tack, he knows how to find things, bless him.”
“Your nephew?”
“You want I should give you his number? He charges $100 an hour and all the M&Ms he can eat. Except for the blue ones. Blue candy freaks him out.”
“Bud, I -“
“You’re right. The hourly rate ain’t bad, but the candy allowance’ll kill you!”
“Bud!”
“Larry.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early to bury Mary Poppins on Mars? I mean, this film could have legs.”
“Betty Grable had legs. Mary Poppins on Mars is a paraplegic -“
“But -“
On life support!”
“You can’t know that five minutes after the box office opened!”
“Ten minutes, bubbelach, and, based on the early numbers, some theatres are already closing the film and refunding the money to crying children and their parents.”
“But, we’ve got contracts!”
“Shame on you! Your film is making children cry and all you care about is your contracts with the theatres?”
“But -“
“It’s people like you what give the movie industry such a bad name.”
“Mary Poppins on Mars is a children’s film! It’s not supposed to make anybody cry! You’re making that up!”
“It’s true. I saw it on Entertainment Right Now!”
“That show won’t be on for another six hours!”
“Okay. You got me there. But, I expect to.”
“Look. Theatres can’t pull the film – they’re contractually obligated to run it for at least a week.”
“Maybe it was the theatre owners who were crying.”
“It’s not a bad movie!”
“Not a bad movie? Eighty-six of the 87 published reviews gave it a rotten yam!”
“That’s harsh. I…I like yams.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Who – who wrote the positive review?”
“Somebody in an insane asylum in China. You wanna count the ways that review could have gone horribly, horribly wrong?”
“Who cares? I mean, who reads reviews, anyway?”
“In LA? Everybody does, baby, everybody does.”
“My point is, good reviews aren’t everything. Did you see Mister Deeds? Or, or Little Nicky?”
“You got something against Adam Sandler should make a decent living?”
“No. Everybody in this town should make a decent living. My point is, a movie can make a decent take even with bad reviews.”
“Adam Sandler’s average five minute gross in a single theatre’s more than Mary Poppins on Mars brought in throughout the entire country!”
“Gross? What does Adam Sandler know from gross? You want gross? The tofu corned beef on rye at Yutz’s – now, that’s gross.”
“I don’t know – a bissel mustard makes it go down smooth.”
“Ain’t enough mustard in the world to make that dog sing, Bud. There just ain’t enough mustard.”
“Larry, I think -“
“Okay, you want gross? Bag lady chic in the windows of the shops along Rodeo Drive. This is what we left the old country for? To look like we’re back in shtetls?”
“Maybe we’re getting away from the point…”
“The point? The point is in five minutes -“
“Fifteen, now.”
“Look. You know that, in this city, nobody knows nothing.”
“Are you kidding? Now, everybody knows everything.”
“It’s a cruel town, Bud. A cruel town.”
“Ain’t that the truth…”