L.A./Hollywood relived by a suicidal ex-husband ex-producer ex-Jew with a screenplay. The screenplay is fresh off the bus from New Jersey, delivered to Charlie (post suicide) by his 21 year old nephew, Lionel. It is about Disraeli but that doesn’t matter. The screenplay is his property, and all Charlie needs to make it (again) in this town is one property.
The screenplay, nicknamed Ben and Bill, or Bob and Bill, somehow makes itself known to a studio, an agent, a casting director, who manage to get a black pro-Israel karate expert to play Disraeli, the Jew.
The characters are mimetic:
The studio executive assistant has the unwieldy habit of walking to the nearest ladies room, locking the door, and screaming. (It is always a mistake to actually read the screenplay.) We visit with her and her Beverly Hills therapist in intimate one hour sessions, at which she arrives hystericized with laughter. The therapist is straight out of DSM-V and full of noteworthy advice, relevant to any and all professional women over 35 who work among men. Cut out a small nook of rationality inside the chaos.
The director is paid in dinar which have been blocked from leaving Yugoslavia, and doesn’t talk to the actors. The actors are not worth characterizing.
Prepare to grow a dry grin and giggle while reading.