When I park five stories down past an executive’s assigned space and walk into an office to find a dude in a quarter-zip and box-fresh Allbirds, I can tell there will be a problem before the meeting even starts.
This person does not know what a movie executive is supposed to look like.
This person does not dress like the movies. This person does not watch the movies. This person does not love the movies.
I have been in these rooms before. After another viral music video, another festival hit, another short, I’m back in the office of some producer, executive or studio chief, being handed another free water bottle that will roll around on the floor of my Tesla for the next month with all the others.
In the old days, the last- minute intel I received before these meetings with studio executives was insane. “She loves strong female protagonists — also, she adopted an Asian girl because they stay skinny.” … “He used to drive a cab. He’s weird. May have killed a man. Good luck.”
