Mad Men

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6th April 1997 (Sunday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

The way you looked on a movie poster, and the way you stared at yourself in the mirror felt like staring at 2 entirely different people.

"This looks… splendid." Dad remarked, as he held the poster in his hands, inspecting it for all its worth, squinting his eyes and everything.

"Al certainly liked it. Then again, he probably enjoyed the fact that his name and face featured prominently in the marketing campaign, boosting his public profile even a little." I said off-handedly, as I studied his face, eager to divine any insights into what he is thinking right now.

He scoffed good naturedly, "I think he was more thankful for the paycheck he got out of this. A million dollars. I heard he used the cheque as leverage to secure a better deal with Disney."

"Wait- what? I thought he dropped out of that!"

"He had initially, citing scheduling conflicts. But then, the director of Hercules, kicked the bucket just as casting was finalized, leaving the studio scrambling for anyone. They finally got someone 3 weeks later, but by then 2 cast members had pulled out. So when Al offered to fill in for one of them… they took it. They were desperate Ricky, so Al's agent leveraged the million dollars into getting a pay bump. Go figure."

Bloody hell. I genuinely thought I had gotten to him, when I told him how badly his career would suffer if he took on that role. The backlash from Greece alone… I guess money serves as a great motivation.

It's the only reason I can think of, why he would not only take the deal, but even reach out on his own accord to an animation studio of all things.

And thank god Disney is just that right now… an animation studio. If I have my way, then I'll make sure they never break into mainstream cinema and proceed to ruin everyone's favorite franchises just for shits and giggles.

"Anyways," I divert back to the topic at hand, "The poster is legit right? You know I was skeptical when Yash came up to me, asking to be in marketing here-" I began, before I was interrupted.

"Yush?" My dad questioned, clearly having no idea who he was.

"It's spelt, y-a-s-h… He's from India. Anyways! He was part of marketing in paranormal activity, and he decided it would be a good idea to try and hug my golden thigh. Now I was skeptical at first, but he really came through! I mean, just look at the poster… the color grading, and the fading effects at the edge… he's pretty good at what he does!"

Dad sees through my ruse, and looks flatly at me, "What're you trying to say here Ricky?"

"...Erm. Nothing. It's just, I like his work. And he's a pretty good guy as far as I'm concerned so… I want him in my future projects. But since he's employed at Stirling… it's your call in the end." I make my pitch, hoping he says yes.

He thinks it over for a second before replying, "Sure. I have got no qualms. I'll mention it to Higgs."

I give him a tight side hug because… why not? Before making my way out of his study when he calls out, halting me in my tracks, "Ricky…"

"Yes dad?"

He sighed before putting the poster down on his table, and walking around it, taking a seat on the sofa to the side. "You told me yesterday you wrapped up post-production… What's your next step? Come, take a seat. And tell me all about what's going on in your head."

And since I had nowhere else to be, I proceeded to do just that.

"Well, I deposited the cut in the archives. I'll submit it to Venice, but that's gonna be months later. I mean, their submission deadline for a feature length production is 8th June… I've got 2 months in between, so… I'm gonna start work on my next screenplay tomorrow."

"Next screenplay? Hold on," His face turned incredulous real quick, "Wh- you're starting tomorrow? Do you even know what story you're gonna write? And- how you're gonna go about it?"

"Not in the least. So tomorrow will be the brainstorming phase. I'll get back to you next week with a rough treatment." I say, my voice filled with profound confidence, as my dad's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

"Wh- No." He eventually said, shaking his head rapidly before meeting mine, "No. I'm not even going to- just no. You know what? Do whatever you want. Jus- make sure you have a treatment on my desk by next Monday. In the meanwhile… have you given any thought to test screenings?"

"No. Not really. I don't have any need for it. The movie's gonna be a hit, not a miss. I'm certain." I assure him.

His face indicates it didn't work as well as I wanted it to. "Then why wait?" He finally erupted, "Why wait till September for this movie to premiere? If the marketing push is not done by now, then we can have a few test screenings here and there, maybe a limited theatrical release. You know, generate some word of mouth. Then a wide-release by mid-June, and THEN… we can screen it at Venice." He started, clearly trying his level best to convince me.

I shake my head, denying him vehemently as I put forth my counterpoint, "No. Dad, this Venice premiere? It's not about winning accolades! Not in the least. Well… some part of it, but that's not the major concern! I wanna premier at Venice, precisely to generate positive word of mouth, just not the kind common audiences will spread. This movie? It's not just an experience, it's an emotion! And who better than the so-called connoisseurs who attend the screening, to judge the true bandwidth of what we've achieved?! Plus, you know just as well, independent films have a far better chance of being acknowledged by the Jury. Right now? Due to my reputation, and our joint financing, there's no label on this film, but the moment we give it a limited release? Boom, all of a sudden, it's this big studio production helmed by father and son, a product of cronyism, clearly a rich attempt by the father to launch his son's career… Obviously the publicity will turn its tide, as soon as the positive critical reception floods in but by then?" I open my arms sarcastically, "It's too fuckin' late. And all my hopes of Venice, go down in the damn drain, flushed and abandoned… for good or bad? You decide."

His face remained blank, as he contemplated my point for a few seconds in silence… before sighing reluctantly. "Fine, we do as you say. Premiere… at Venice. BUT! And you open your ears wide and listen Ricky, for this? Is non-negotiable. 10 Test Screenings, 4 across California, 3 in NYC, 2 in London, and 1? China. To secure the Chinese market, we need to screen the theatrical cut to a few bigwigs. And based on what they say… we either earn heck of a lot more, or less than projected."

"Okay. 10 Test Screenings, not 1 more. And I'll be present at every single one of them. I'll be my charming self, answer a few questions, sign a couple autographs… I'll do my part." I shrug, knowing he won't refuse.

And just as expected, "Fine. The company will fly you out with the technical crew."

"That works."

And with our discussion concluded, I took my leave, making my way to the changing room before slipping into a swimming suit.

I always found a rigorous swim to be a splendid way to clear my mind.

...

...

8th April 1997 (Tuesday)

Ambrose Stirling (POV)

KNOCK - KNOCK

"Come in!" I raise my voice, as the door opens, and Ricky enters.

"Yes Ricky? You said there was an emergency. Out with it." I shift my complete focus onto him, as he clears his throat before speaking.

"Yes dad, it's… complicated. Anyways, I was browsing the news and the net for ideas for a script, when I got one! I read about this guy, this so-called 'authority on embezzlement and cheque fraud', some guy called Frank Abagnale. Ring any bells?"

After straining my memory for any mention of him, I shook my head, "Not at all. What about him?"

"Apparently, his teen years were rife with all kinds of shit he pulled. He claims that from the time he was 17, to 20. He impersonated a Pan Am Pilot and deadheaded over 2 million miles. He also claims to have worked as an assistant state attorney general in Louisiana, and a Hospital Physician in Georgia with no qualifications whatsoever. And, and here's the cincher… he claims to have cashed over 17,000 bad checks, amounting to $2.5 million, American dollars. Even wrote a book about it."

Damn… What kind of a crazy ass con artist is he? Wait, hold on… claims?

"Ricky, you said he claims… you think he's full of shit?"

He nods confidently, "I KNOW… he's full of shit. I pulled up a series of public records. Not a single claim of his was verified in any way. In fact, he spent those 3 years of his life, from 17 to 20, in Great Meadow Prison in Comstock, New York as inmate no. 25367. I called up the places he claims to have scammed. Genuine confusion was the response… they had no idea who the fuck he was."

Damn. So essentially, he was a con man… who was conning people of the fact that he had conned people?

A double con?!

Well, motherfucker must be talented at lying if nothing else.

My train of thought is interrupted, as Ricky continued, "Anyways, his story might be complete poppycock… but he wrote a book on it." He said, bringing out a book from within his jacket and placing it on my desk.

I pulled the book in, reading out loud its title, "CATCH ME IF YOU CAN"

My son nods, "Yeah, now I gave it a read, and… it's pretty good. It's fun if nothing else. He essentially described himself as this charming lowlife, who flirted his way out of difficult situations, all the while an FBI officer was tailing him… it's gonna work."

"What's gonna work? Ricky," I begin, lifting the book in front of my face before flipping it to read the back, "this book was released all the way back in 1980. 17 years son. I'm willing to bet anything that one of the big 5 purchased the film rights, years ago-"

"An independent party purchased the film rights from Abagnale. He sold it to Universal in 1984, who in turn sold it to Disney in 1988. Long story short, Paramount currently has the rights… and they're actively developing plans for it. I hear they're looking for a director, hell Jolinski signed on as an executive producer. But that's the thing dad, listen… What's the highest grossing movie you've ever produced?"

"...What?"

"What. Is the the highest grossing movie in your extensive filmography?"

"The Manhunter… $366 million gross." I add, he eggs on.

"Now, that was released all the way back in the 80s… how would you like to break your own record? And with me, your son, no less?"

"...You're not exactly aiming small kiddo." I look around, before leaning in, whispering conspiratorially, "You really think this could work kiddo."

"Dad," He pushed back, gesturing with his hands, "I'm showing you a burning building… and I'm offering fire insurance on it. You take care of the film rights, I'll have the script prepared by Monday… The Final. Draft."

I take it all in for a few seconds, before leaping into action, my sudden jump startling him as he watches with wide eyes, "Well! Get on with it then! You take care of the script, I'll go make a few calls. We meet on Monday with the rest." I finish, already making my way out of the office, as Ricky hastily follows me.

"I won't disappoint you." He says, as I stop abruptly.

I turn back and pat his cheek, looking into his eyes as I leave him with a few parting words, "... I 'know' you won't. You never have Ricky." I smile before taking my leave, not bothering to look back.

I gotta get to the company ASAP! Better get Javier onto this, just to get a pair of eyes on the situation over at Paramount.

Today's gonna be one busy day… and it's all thanks to my dear son.