To Get the Juices Flowing, Summon Sharon Stone
In November 1977, my writing partner and I were paid $3,500 for an episode of “The Jeffersons.” It was called “Florence’s Union” and, when combined with the other 252 installments of the sitcom, it has made about a billion dollars for Columbia Pictures Television.
Not long ago, in the midst of a job writing a particularly sub-literate cartoon, I received a residual check for “Florence’s Union.” A check for 1 cent. You might have looked at it and seen a life’s work officially reduced to the value of a coin so beneath regard that 7-Eleven clerks give them away in plastic cups beside the beef jerky. But to me, it was a heartening reminder of a breakthrough sale that was worth a lot more than money. It was my first whiff of success; the first time I’d heard my words spoken by skilled, professional actors; the last time I’d used adjectives such as “skilled” and “professional” in front of the word “actors.”
I thought to myself that if I could just find that old script, it might inspire me and spark the creative juices again. So I went down to the basement to the filing cabinet where I store all my old TV stuff, or at least thought I did. No “Florence.” Turns out I couldn’t find all eight of the “Sister, Sister” episodes to my credit either. Or was it six? I did come across one old “Archie Bunker’s Place,” and it wasn’t half bad, but a weird bug crawled out onto page 14 so I stopped reading before it could rekindle my passion. I also unearthed a videotape of an old “9 to 5” of mine. That was a pretty good TV show. Maybe I’d uncover its long-forgotten magic instead. But it was on Beta. I paused to wonder how much it would cost to have a Beta tape transferred to DVD. Maybe 20 bucks? Now that I thought about it, “9 to 5” wasn’t all that good.
It was then that I discovered a tape of “The Vikings.” This was a movie with which I had absolutely no creative association. I immediately sat down to watch it. Dang, that Janet Leigh was built! And midway through, Janet Leigh’s breasts reminded me of Sharon Stone’s breasts, which reminded me of “Basic Instinct,” which reminded me of a way I could watch “Florence’s Union.”
Do you know the scene where Michael Douglas has been suspended from the police force, and he’s flopped on his couch in a drunken stupor while some old sitcom blares away on his TV? That show he’s sleeping through is “Florence’s Union.”
Now I don’t know if director Paul Verhoeven told his prop guy to find the worst episode of the lousiest sitcom ever made in order to dramatize Michael Douglas’ dissipated state of mind, or if he just plucked it at random from the cultural compost heap. All I know is that Joe Eszterhas, with my help, wrote a darn good screenplay for that “Basic Instinct.” A classic of the genre, really. We did such a good job, our movie was nominated for two Academy Awards. Makes me proud of a lifetime spent in the popular arts.
So to heck with my 1 cent residual check. I’m going to use it to buy a DVD of “Basic Instinct” and savor every second of the finest work of my career. In this business, you never know where you’ll find your muse.