I’m here to receive an Award from a French film society for all the Joey Levitch movies Manka Bros. produced over the past 50 years. Holy shit do they love Joey Levitch over here!
I’m also prepping for a keynote address I’m giving next week at MIPCOM in Cannes. I’m thinking of calling the speech “How Did We Fuck It Up?”
But I digresss… and I am drunk.
I see the idiots over at Comcast NBC Universal Procter & Gamble GlaxoSmithKline have fired James Schamus.
Good move, boneheads. Jimmy Schamus is a class act and this move signals nothing to me other than a plan to completely get out of the specialty business.
Like I said, good move, boneheads. It is possible to make a lot of fucking money without spending a lot of fucking money, morons. Make good movies and audiences will go – period.
I know Universal has been terrible ever since Steven Spielberg left but why are you working so hard to make it worse?
As I said, I am currently drunk, so the following offer is not binding – but Manka Bros. would like to offer the fantastic James Schamus a job.
If you’re tired of working in the movie business, maybe you could take a whack at our Theme Park business. We’re having some real issues with our Manka Fun Park in Yemen.
Anyway, I’m going to pass out now.
James, please accept or deny this offer with my assistant, Vicky Adler-Modry.
A completely… totally… unbelievably fucked up summer.
And everyone is at fault.
But mostly, the fault lies in our film slate development strategy.
The reason?
ORIGINAL FILMS FAIL
Did you morons seriously believe we’d have a global, four-quadrant hit with “Monty” (the animated praying mantis who becomes an atheist)?
Or “Flap Yo Wings”? A hugely overbudget original 1930s-era musical?
From this day forward, I do not want any of you Ivy League eggheads to think creatively again.
From this day forward, we only produce sequels of previously popular films; adaptations from popular books (preferably from our Manka Books division); and other popular IP such as board games and cartoon characters.
I do NOT want to hear about anything I have never heard about before!
Capisce?
Hey, Robin Rafe, what made you think “The End Of Daves” was a home run? And what made you think July 4th weekend was the perfect time for it?
Because of you idiots, this past summer may be the last summer I am able to spend at my house in the Seychelles.
Thanks for ruining the best three months I spend all year!
I can’t wait to see how our next original film will do – “The Beer Hunter” – sounds hilarious – only it’s NOT A FUCKING COMEDY!
Great work, guys.
Really looking forward to the failures we have in 2014.
So – to be clear – I want everyone in theatrical (and television, for that matter) development to call your agent contacts and tell them all to fuck off with their original ideas. I want only sequels of hits and other movies based on strong previously popular IP.
Hell, why don’t we just start making our own version of “The Wizard Of Oz”? Apparently, no one has the rights.
And I know we haven’t started shooting the “Captain Stoppo” movie yet – but let’s get going on a sequel as well. Or better yet, we should start thinking about five of everything before we start a project.
And if I hear of one writer or producer in a pitch meeting that tries to slip in an idea that they thought up all by themselves, I will have them thrown off the lot and ruined forever in show business.
Thirty-five years ago, an Exorcist was sent to Stage 8 on the Manka Bros. Studios lot.
Strange shit was happening there and the only logical explanation was ghosts.
The film being shot on the stage was a horrible roller disco movie called “Juggle Boogie” – a sort of “Hatfields & McCoys” story about two rival juggling families who both owned roller discos across the street from one another.
I had only been on the job as head of studio for a little over a year. My father died in 1976 (and is buried underneath the Main Admin building – Bldg. 2) and left me the “keys” to the studio at the tender age of 18.
And now we, apparently, had a demonic possession of one of our sounds stages. Something I really didn’t want to deal with. At that age, I just wanted to be playing in my band, the amazing “King Khan.”
But I digress…
Initially, the reports of doors banging and food disappearing were easily blamed on cats, rats and the fat Studio Tour guide (Randy Wilcox) that used to steal all the food off of various production sets.
But when the all cats, rats and Randy Wilcox were discovered dead one morning, we knew something was afoot.
I had always heard rumors that the land where the Manka Bros. Studios currently resides was once used for a few Keystone Cops productions directed by Mack Sennett and that there was, in fact, an unsolved massacre of several Cops during a particularly grueling movie shoot.
Supposedly – and this has never been mentioned in public before – the murdered Cops were buried under the area now known as Manka Bros. Stage 8.
I happen to know for a fact that while the incident is true – it actually happened at Universal and the poor Keystone Cops who were slaughtered are actually buried in a mass grave under Universal Studios Stage 12.
What all that means is that we didn’t know what the fuck was going on at Manka Bros. Stage 8.
(And any of you Margie Louise conspiracy theorists can take a hike – that murder is unsolved, not relevant, and I will one day write about it… not today.)
So – back to the story – the Exorcist (I think he was from Tujunga) was called in. His named was Father Cain and I recognized him.
It turns out, Father Cain was an actor (Cain Montgomery) that used to audition for TV shows but never got a part. Sort of like those whack jobs who try to be actors for years and then decide to become palm readers and spiritual guides.
Father Cain said he saw “The Exorcist” and thought that would be a really cool job.
When he entered Stage 8, his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to jerk around like an acting class chicken (very unconvincing).
Because “Juggle Boogie” was already three months over schedule and nearly $1 million over budget (1978 dollars!) we continued to shoot while Father Cain attempted to exorcise the demons.
To his credit, Father Cain immediately found the demons – they weren’t very clever – and ordered them to leave the sound stage.
The demons were pretty harmless – just playing backgammon and trying to trip up the actors as they skated by.
It turns out, the “demons” were just some old character actors who my father wouldn’t let out of their “lifetime contracts” and, basically, kept ownership of their souls.
Father Cain and the Manka Bros. Legal department told me it would be very simple to rid the stage of the ghosts – just let the dead actors out of their contract obligations and they’ll ascend either into Heaven or Hell depending on the way they conducted their lives.
I refused. A deal is a deal.
To this day, there is a still a bunch of weird shit happening on Stage 8.
P.S. – Why the cats, rats and Randy Wilcox died is still a mystery. Maybe it was because of all that “demon poison” that some idiot prop guy kept putting out before they called the Exorcist.
I’m sure the planners of these conferences (not just Herb Allen’s but corporate offsites the world over) always dream great things will happen – that an idea will emerge that changes the world; that partnerships will form to create new and better companies… such wasted optimism.
And at the beginning of the week, most attendees seem to go along with the party line (drinking the Kool-aid and vodka, if you will).
And even though I have been cynical from the beginning (read every Day 1 post I’ve ever had from previous conferences (2009 – 2010 – 2011 – 2012 – and 2013) – deep down there is a slight tinge of hope that this might be worth my time.
But then the week drags on – and we drink at the bar late at night – have a hangover breakfast with lots of greasy meats – go to some mindless panel about how important content, sports and new distribution platforms are in all our lives – play golf – get drunk – eat wedding caliber food – get drunk some more (repeat repeat repeat)…
Maybe it’s because most of the attendees (like me) are so old and set in our ways.
Perhaps the new ideas will come from the Herb Allen III conference in Phoenix next year (because Herb Allen III is younger!) that focuses on new media… younger moguls, newer, fresher ideas (based on older, staler ideas) – a new energy that everyone seems to need.
Or not.
The biggest problem with Herb Allen’s Sun Valley Conference is the new moguls all try to act like old moguls – try to hang with the heavy scotch drinkers and cigar smokers, try to wear the Polo shirts that only an old mogul can look right in… it’s not easy to be an old mogul and actually look like an old mogul.
Out of the millions of stiff, awkward middle managers in media companies around the world only one or at most two will rise to become a true mogul (i.e., Ben Silverman will never be a mogul – try though he may; and the jury is definitely still out on Thomas Tull who is attempting to buy his way into moguldom).
You can’t fake it. It has to be organic.
Image Courtesy Of Manka Bros. Media Blogger: OnMedea http://mankabros.com/blogs/onmedea
It was originally titled Day 3 – “China” – because there was a huge focus today on China opportunities and how do media companies (and businesses in general) crack that Chinese nut?
First of all, you can’t (there’s that cynicism again!). But it’s absolutely true.
To get the scale in China that companies need would require being able to grow our businesses into significantbusinesses. Just making a few bucks here and there and having a movie work every once in a while isn’t going to cut it. We need to have a significant presence in China to make it worth all this effort.
And as soon as a foreign company gets a significant presence in China – the Chinese government will dial you back. They may not kick you out but they may decide not to distribute your movie for “censorship issues,” or not to release your new handset because of “environmental reasons”(ridiculous, right?) or not offer your content in a streaming service due to some other excuse that the government won’t even attempt to make creative or fair.
I led a panel this morning on “How To Properly Bribe Chinese Officials.” I’ve written on this in the past – and have learned over the years you can actually get a lot more accomplished by offering bottles of Slivovitz and cartons of American cigarettes than by offering cash or personal favors (i.e., helping to get a Chinese government official’s kid get into Harvard, etc.)
We just have to be realistic about China. It’s fine if your expectations are low and you are okay with having a small business and making a little bit of money or using the cheap labor to build your toys and American flags. But for distributing content and for growing a huge, profitable business – China sucks and will always suck.
The only excitement left at this year’s conference (and wasn’t Building-A-Bike and a nauseous river raft ride enough excitement for one person) is tomorrow’s media panel with Rupert Murdoch,John Malone and Barry Diller (the same team from yesterday’s disastrous “Build-A-Bike”exercise).
Watching three guys who really hate each other attempting to be cordial (while offering nothing new) should be truly entertaining.
Or not at all. That’s the problem – just when you think maybe something will come out of the conference, nothing does.
Outside of that, the drunkening continues.
I have now been forced to make my own drinks because Vin Tran has had some sort of breakdown and can barely function (he talks often about bringing shame to his family).
There is a rumor the great Bin Tran will triumphantly return for the final night of the conference since his daughter gave birth yesterday (congratulations, Bin – never go away again).
And the year before for that was the disastrous Burning Mogul.
This year, Herb decided to focus on team building. And what better way to do that than by building a bunch of bikes for underprivileged kids in the Sun Valley area (which probably means those kids whose parents earn less than $1 million).
My initial reaction was exactly the same as Sheryl Sandberg’s who said: “What kind of crappy ass bullshit is this waste of goddamned fucking time?!”
After a morning with Roger Goodell talking about how great the NFL is and a presentation by Larry Page talking about how great Google is (the only negatives seemed to be that both the NFL and Google have an extraordinary number of head injuries) – we now have to build bikes.
Herb Allen’s Sun Valley Conference – Early 1900s
Bikes are a big part of Herb’s Sun Valley gatherings. We all ride around on them all week looking like dorks.
Bikes were even a part of the very first Herb Allen gathering – presumably with Herb Allen’s grandfather (Sr. minus 1) – back in the early 1900s (see right).
But seriously, we’ve all made our fortune building very successful teams. You don’t get to the top of the media world without a little bit of knowledge on how build a winning team.
So nearly everyone complained when we all gathered in the Great Hall of the Moguls and saw a big pile of bike parts in the middle several round tables.
Kazuo Hirai’s “Fuck this!” was probably the loudest one I heard in the room (and there were many).
But as we got into the exercise, I began to realize the value and learning how difficult it is for a room full of arrogant pricks to actually work together and produce anything at all. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned here.
See, we moguls don’t have to do anything by ourselves. We are driven everywhere, our food is prepared for us, everything we own is always taken care of by others… if you do something yourself, you are weak and a loser. Some of us even have our own ass wiped (I promise not to mention any names, Harvey).
But we weren’t just going to be building bikes (and this is where the genius of Herb Allen really shines through), we were going to be building bikes with people we hate.
Rupert Murdoch was teamed with his sons James and Lachlan…
Barry Diller was teamed with Leslie Moonves and John Malone…
I could go on and on with hateful matching – but, basically, if one person was known to hate another person, they were put on the same team.
Because Herb knew that I would probably either not show up or not want to participate, he made me a facilitator . I just had to walk around the room and make sure people were completing their task.
The Great Gong Of The Moguls
Each team had 30 minutes. Herb Allen banged the Great Gong of the Moguls (left) and everyone started to build their bikes.
The first table I stopped at was with the team of Thomas Tull, Brian Roberts, Steve Burke and Jeff Bewkes. Tull and his new Comcast NBC Universal brethren seemed to be working together pretty well – with Jeff Bewkes disengaged, looking at his phone.
[For the record, Manka Bros. officially passed on a deal with Legendary weeks ago after Mr. Tull requested (on top of an insultingly low theatrical distribution fee of 8%) my parking space, complete access to my executive spa and vomitorium and a further demand that I call him “Lord Thomas.” The distribution fee I could stomach but the other things – all non-starters.]
After a few moments of harmony, things started to break down and Thomus Tull got really frustrated that he wasn’t being allowed to build the bike all by himself. So he decided to go to an unassigned table and build another bike himself. The Comcast guys tried to get him to stay by saying: “Lord Thomas, please, let’s give it another shot… you can put the wheels on… we won’t interfere… etc. etc.. (Humorous anecdote: When he tried to ride his bike at the end, the wheels fell off.)
I then moved over to Rupert Murdoch’s table. Rupertwasyelling at his son James “Righty tighty! Lefty loosey, you idiot!” Lachlan then repeated what he dad said but with less enthusiasm. “Chase Carey knows how to screw on a bolt!”
Things were really heated at the Barry Diller, Les Moonves and John Malone table. Definitely no love loss there. No one had budged an inch to start the process. Finally, Barry Diller said: “Whatever, let’s just fucking put this thing together and get to the bar.”
Les Moonves got right up in Barry’s face: “I hope you brought one of the little antennas, the TV in the bar ain’t free for you.”
Barry Diller: “I definitely brought enough little antennas for your mother! I think it’s adorable how you defend something so old as broadcast television. Like helping an old lady across the street.”
Les Moonves: “Yeah, I’d like to help your mother across the street!”
Barry Diller: “That’s not even an insult.”
John Malone got involved: “Frankly, I don’t care what you do to broadcast – but if you come after cable, Diller, I’m gonna have a problem with that. And you don’t want me or my karate friends in cable to have a problem.”
Barry Diller: “Oh my God, the testosterone of old media is so pathetic.”
I intervened before a silly slap fight broke out and reminded them of the task at hand.
I continued on. Most in the room were just talking or looking at their phones. There was one young group of Silicon Valley guys doing hacky-sack.
Then I heard one group finish because Sumner Redstone yelled “Bingo!”
Everyone looked over to see Sumner and Sergey Brin and Larry Page (with King Abdullah II of Jordan thrown in for good measure) posed in front of a gleaming new bike. They were all wearing Google Glass. (I don’t think Sumner remembered that the Google guys were also the YouTubeguys and that he was suing them for $1 billion.)
There was a non-caring disappointed groan in the room and then a non-caring round of applause for the winners.
And that was it – another Day 2 disaster at the Sun Valley conference.
The Build-A-Bike technicians came in at the end and finished all the bikes.
They actually turned out so cool that we all decided to keep the bikes for ourselves.
Because of my bad back, I passed on the river raft ride (there’s nothing more pathetic than a couple of hundred CEOs acting like they know how to white water raft).
I’m at the The Drankin’ Hole dictating this blog and then off to a BBQ hosted by Bobby Flay.
What will tomorrow bring? More bullshit. More crap. Don’t envy us. Our lives suck just as much as yours.
They put me in the Batman room this year. This room is not easy to get. I think it was scheduled to be Thomas Tull’s room – but well, you know, shit happens. So now it’s mine! (I’m sure the Time Warner guys aren’t too happy about that – but Jeff Bewkes actually requested the Nicolas Sparks’ “The Notebook” room – so it’s all good.)
You see, all of the rooms at the Sun Valley Lodge have a different theme.
There’s a Disney Princess room (probably for Bob Iger and his wife Thunder Bay – I think that’s her name); a Star Wars room (there is always a fight over which tech dork gets that one); a Harry Potter room (which is under the main staircase – another favorite among Time Warner people and Brits); a Haunted Alligators swamp room (a poor effort to throw a bone to a Manka Bros. IP); a Prison room (sometimes used to help a banker CEO get ready for real prison – ha!), etc. etc.
They should add a few Facebook rooms for those who don’t want any privacy at all – ha ha!
Themed rooms are great for families and sexually adventurous couples but really awful for a media mogul trying to get stuff done. Every time I call the concierge all I get back is “Yes, Batman” – “Of course, Batman” – “Right away, Batman.” Enough already!
And it doesn’t really matter what kind of agenda Herb “crafts” – it always comes down to the same shit: How the fuck is old media going to survive after traditional TV and film die an ugly death?
The answer is simple – we either roll over and wait for Google to acquire us all and then wait for our instructions… or we band together and acquire Google and Facebook and Apple and everyone else that is threatening our very existence and shut them down without mercy.
I like the second option.
In the meantime, I have avoided the press and retreated to The Drankin’ Hole to record my thoughts for this blog and to have a few dirty martinis and the Sun Valley Lodge’s world famous chili cheese fries.
To my horror, the greatest bartender in the world – Bin Tran – is not here this week! He has a daughter that is giving birth to his twelfth grandchild (or some such shit) and he is at the hospital. His brother – Vin Tran – is taking his place for the week.
His brother sucks at making dirty martinis. He even had trouble with Brian Roberts’ club soda!
Day 1 is always slow and always makes me wonder why the hell I came up here – though the goodie bag is nice.
Inside this year’s bag is:
An iWatch (though we were told not to show anyone outside of the conference or even acknowledge that it exists. Off the record, it’s really amazing and everyone will buy one);
The key fob to a new Tesla (courtesy of Elon Musk). Only 10 will unlock the doors of new Teslas at the end of the Conference. To my chagrin, EVERYONE does not get a new car!
A small, specially made, hand-crafted balloon dog sculpture by Jeff Koons;
A box of See’s Candies;
And, what I thought was really unique, a bar of gold.
OK – this place is starting to fill up.
Michael Eisner and former UK Prime Minister Tony Blair just walked in (not together – thank God) so I’m going to cut it off here and get busy drinking. I have to warn Tony Blair to not order anything from Vin Tran more difficult than a Jack & Coke.
Check back here tomorrow for an update on the always exciting Day 2.
Following a disastrous staff meeting with a roomful of idiots posing as my senior management team, I have decided to make a few changes to the organizational structure of Manka Bros.
As of today, I will have NO DIRECT REPORTS. I seriously don’t want to talk to any of you if I don’t have to.
Going forward, I am going to write down certain tasks (on color coordinated index cards) that you must complete (i.e., which films, TV shows, books, music, etc. should be greenlit and what should be passed on – as well as all the other day-to-day business that may come up).
My assistant, Vicky Adler-Modry, will pin the cards to a bulletin board in the foyer outside of my office suite.
You may check the board throughout the day and if there is a task for you on it – you must complete it.
Write back the results or any issues that may come up on the card and I may or may not read it.
The matching of color and executive has yet to be determined – I am planning to meditate on that this afternoon. I’ll have the final colors posted within 30 days.
You may not get the color you are hoping – be open-minded.
I think this new structure will save me a lot of time and aggravation as I don’t wish to see any of you people that much anymore.
But that’s not all…
I have also decided to adjust the organizational structure of my household as follows:
My daughter (and Manka Bros. Board Member), Connie, will continue to report directly to me but only on nights and weekends.
During the day she will have a dual report to our housekeeper Lily and house manager Jerome.
My housekeeper Lily will continue to report to Jerome who will continue to report to me (but may not directly address me unless I address him first).
My driver Fernando will now report to Lily (and no longer to me).
My dog, Caesar, will have a dual report to Connie and Lily.
My ex-wives will continue to report to my lawyer.
That’s it for now.
I believe this new structure will help me to avoid contact with my senior management team and thus I will avoid having to hear all of the mind-numbingly dumb ideas that come out of their mouths.
Last night, I received a private TWEET from Rupert Murdoch – that after months of agonizing separation, he was filing for divorce from his wife Wendi Deng.
Even though I couldn’t hear his voice, I could tell he was crying.
I’ve known Rupert for many many years. More years that his third wife has been alive.
Yet, I always knew, even before she was born, that Wendi Deng Murdoch was the person for him.
It’s none of our business why someone else’s marriage ends.
I do know that if the marriage of Rupert Murdoch and Wendi Deng Murdoch can’t survive – there isn’t much hope for anyone else.
They were ideal for each other.
Equals in intellect.
She was beautiful.
He was rich.
In my world, this is the perfect match.
And while we all cry a bit today for Rupert, we can bravely dry those tears tomorrow because Rupert will land on his feet.
He didn’t tell me why the marriage fell apart. There must have been something in those years of wire tapping her phone that became the final straw.
Chin up, Rupe, I’ll be here whenever you need a friend.
I’ll see you at Sun Valley. I’ll save you ONE STOOL at the bar.
A few of us are having a great night drinking schnapps and eating crab. I won’t name names for security reasons but their initials are DM, RM, BD, JB, CC – you figure it out.
I just received my daily fax of important Hollywood internet stories from my assistant, Vicky Adler-Modry, and noticed that apparently Nikki Finke was fired from Deadline Hollywood.
I didn’t even realize that was possible – basically the equivalent of me getting fired from Manka Bros. We all know this is an impossible thing. It would take gunfire and a hostage situation to remove me from my post and that wouldn’t be legal – so I guess nothing could get me out.
[Goddamnit, Barry Diller just fucking spilled watermelon schnapps on my white carpet! But I digress…]
Let me get right to the point and I’ll speak directly to Nikki as I write:
Manka Bros. would like to offer you, Nikki Finke,a job – doing pretty much whatever you would like. If you’ve seen our numbers lately, we need help in most areas of the business.
If you would like to start a cut-throat-destroy-someone’s-life-type blog like you are currently running – that would be fine.
If you would like to work as a partner with our own in-house cut-throat-destroy-someone’s-life-type-blog – OnMedea – that would be fine as well. She would love the help.
If you would like to run our Theatrical Group– that would be fine, too. Robin Rafe has really been sucking lately and needs to be replaced at some point (off the record).
Or just pick something off our Jobs board – we’ve got a few great openings right now.
So, think about it, Nikki – Manka Bros. is one place you will never be fired from (unless you write about me or my family). Call my assistant at the studio, Vicky Adler-Modry (or just Friend her on Facebook).
I have to get back to karaoake – Rupert’s about to sing “MacArthur Park” – (never to be missed).
With the upcoming death of Sumner Redstone (any day now based on how he looked in recent photos) and the increasing dementia of Rupert Murdoch, it’s clear there is soon to be only one true Hollywood mogul remaining.
Brothers from Poland and Bulgaria and Kansas City and New York, etc. etc. – all coming to Hollywood with a dream and the sociopathic guts to do whatever it took to succeed (and a whole lot of luck).
When Sumner Redstone dies (I’m gonna say by mid-summer) and hundreds of people are forced to go to that funeral (who would will willingly want to go unless they’re trying to pitch some new idea to Brad Grey) it will be down to me and Rupert.
And we all know Rupert is certifiably insane – so he doesn’t count anymore.
I don’t even want to hear arguments about Spielberg and Katzenberg and Geffen being moguls. They tried. They failed. Next.
Many may say I don’t deserve to be called a mogul because I wasn’t a founder of the company and didn’t build it from scratch. In fact, I was given the job of Chairman and CEO right out of high school after my father died. I didn’t even want the job. I was very happy in my band, King Khan. We were awesome and on our way.
But I took the job and built Manka Bros. into the global media powerhouse it is today.
In 1976, when I took over – the company didn’t even have its own plane or free food and car allowances for senior management. I took care of that immediately.
Without that shit, we would have had no chance to land a super executive like Lloyd Grohl to run operations.
I only hope that I live another 40-50 years so that those who are young now at least have a small idea of how great things used to be when, like mafia families, studio heads would be willing to kill in order come out on top.
The FBI has a file cabinet full of all the things my father and uncles did in order to survive in early Hollywood. (The FBI needed an entire warehouse to store the files on Louis B. Mayer!)
Those days are gone and things are very passive-aggressive and “nice” in Hollywood. On the outside, everyone appears to be happy for everyone else’s success while they all kill themselves on the inside.
Good evening from Paris!
Khan Manka, Jr. – Chairman & CEO – Manka Bros. Studios – The World’s Largest Media Company
