Making Bad Boys.
“So whaddayou do, Doug?” It’s the usual, socially interactive question. Adults, stuck in the same mini-sphere, in this particular case it’s at a Little League team party hosted at my San Fernando Valley compound. Okay, it’s not really a compound. Nor is it a hacienda. It’s just your basic suburban domicile with a man-cave-slash-writing-lair in [...]Read More »
I’d just typed FADE OUT for the umpteenth time in my short career. The draft was neat and a tightly wound one hundred and fifteen pages of thrills and chills. It felt bulletproof and as close to perfect as anything I’d yet fashioned. Once it was bound by three brass brads and a cover page, [...]Read More »
I’d only just arrived in Miami. After checking into my junior suite at the historic Biltmore Hotel, I made the quick walk over to the Bad Boys production office. Ground zero for the movie was an entire floor of abandoned office space adjacent to the hotel. I was told the previous tenants were a teleconferencing [...]Read More »
I needed an ice pack. Without a warm up, I’d just tossed about what felt like a hundred fastballs to a Little League team I’d been coaching. I was doing a traffic-crawl to my home office, my right shoulder was in spasm, and Lucas Foster, who at the time was running development for Simpson/Bruckheimer, was [...]Read More »