September 12th, 1978.
Fantasy Pictures.
James was sitting behind his desk going through a pile of applications.
He picked up one.
Nineteen years old.
No experience.
Another pile.
The next application had three pages attached.
James stared at it.
"Why does a receptionist need a three page resume?"
"Stop complaining and keep sorting."
"I'm the owner."
"And I'm the one who has to interview all of them."
ugh...
The phone rang.
Linda picked it up.
"Fantasy Pictures."
James returned to the applications.
The interviews for receptionist and typist were scheduled to begin later in the week. The kitchen staff would come after that.
For now, the two-story office still felt strangely empty.
Jerry, Paul and Glenn came and went whenever there was work.
Terry was rarely around unless he was needed.
Most of the time it was still just James and Linda.
James picked up another application.
Then the front door bell rang.
Linda went down to see.
A man walked inside.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm here to see James Rowan."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Howard Rosenman."
Linda led Howard toward the james office upstairs.
"James."
"What?"
"Howard Rosenman is here."
Howard finally spoke.
"James Rowan?"
"Howard Rosenman?"
They shook hands.
Howard looked at him again.
"You're younger than I expected."
James pointed toward a chair.
"Coffee?"
"Sure."
"Linda!"
Linda went towards the kitchen downstairs.
Howard looked around the office.
"You've been here long?"
"A week."
"That explains it."
James laughed.
Howard sat down.
"So."
"You wanted a producer for a musical."
"I do."
"What kind?"
James reached across the desk and picked up a screenplay.
He handed it over.
Howard looked at the cover.
FOOTLOOSE.
Written by James Rowan.
Howard opened the first page.
Then looked at James.
"You wrote it."
"Yes."
"The whole thing?"
"Yes."
Howard started skimming through the script.
Linda came back with two cups of coffee.
Howard took a sip.
He continued to skim through it roughly for 10 minutes then placed the script back on his lap.
"Five million?"
"Around that."
"That's a lot more than your horror movie."
"Much more."
"How much did that cost?"
"About three hundred thousand."
Howard looked at him.
"And now you want to spend five million."
"Yes."
Howard opened the script again.
"Why a musical?"
"I wanted to make one."
"That's it?"
"More or less."
Howard stared at him for a moment.
"You really aren't good at pitching."
"I don't need to pitch it to you. I'm paying for it."
"Songs?"
"Original."
"You've already got them?"
"Most of them."
"Who's writing them?"
"I am."
Howard stopped turning the pages.
He looked up.
"You're writing the songs too?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever written songs before?"
"Yes."
"Professionally?"
"No."
"At least you're honest."
"I've written the lyrics and music. I need people to arrange and produce them properly."
"How many songs?"
"Around ten."
Howard looked back at the screenplay.
"And choreography?"
"Don't have one yet."
"Cast?"
"No one."
"Locations?"
"Nothing."
"Friday the 13th was simple. Small cast. Small crew. One location for most of the movie."
"And this isn't."
"Not even close."
James gestured toward the screenplay.
"Dancers. Choreography. Music recording. Large cast. Multiple locations. Rehearsals."
I can direct it. I know the movie I want to make."
"But?"
"But I need somebody who understands how to put everything together before I start shooting."
Howard nodded.
"Why me?"
"Harry gave me your name."
"That's the only reason?"
"It was the first reason."
"And the second?"
"I looked you up."
"Broadway. Coco. Sparkle."
"You've worked with musicals. You know people I don't know."
"That's true."
Howard looked down at the screenplay.
Then stood.
"I'll read it."
"I'll call you."
"Take your time."
Howard headed toward the door.
Howard returned to his apartment late that evening.
The Footloose script was still tucked under his arm.
He tossed his keys onto the table, dropped the script beside them and went straight toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, he returned with a drink.
The television came on.
Howard sat on the couch and switched between channels.
The script remained on the table.
Eventually Howard reached over and picked it up.
FOOTLOOSE.
Written by James Rowan.
He opened the first page.
A teenager named Ren McCormack.
Chicago.
A move to a small town.
Howard took a sip of his drink and continued.
The television played in the background.
He turned another page.
Then another.
Ren arrived in Bomont.
School.
Ariel.
He went back two pages.
Read them again.
Half an hour passed.
The television was still running.
Howard wasn't watching it anymore.
He reached for a pencil from the table.
The first note appeared in the margin.
Then another.
He circled a scene.
Crossed out something.
Wrote a question beside another.
Twenty pages later, he stood and went to the kitchen.
His drink remained untouched on the table.
Howard returned with a sandwich.
He sat down.
Turned another page.
An hour later, the telephone rang.
Howard looked at it.
He reluctantly reached over.
"Hello?"
"Howard."
"Renee."
"What are you doing?"
"Reading."
"Reading what?"
"A script."
"Whose?"
Howard looked at the cover.
"James Rowan."
"Who?"
"The Friday the 13th kid director."
"What does he want?"
"A producer."
"For another horror movie?"
"A musical."
"You're joking."
"No."
Howard flipped another page.
"What's it called?"
"Footloose."
"Never heard of it."
"It's his original screenplay."
Renee laughed.
"How is it?"
"I haven't finished."
"Fine."
The conversation moved toward The Main Event.
Another location had to be checked.
Barbara wanted changes in the script.
Howard listened while continuing to look at the script.
Eventually Renee noticed.
"Are you still reading?"
"No."
"You're lying."
Howard smiled.
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"Howard."
"Goodnight, Renee."
He hung up.
Howard reached for the remote and switched it off.
He returned to the script.
The first dance sequence.
The bar.
The tractor race.
Ren and Ariel.
Willard learning to dance.
Howard stopped at that section.
He read it once.
By midnight, the script was covered with pencil marks.
Finally, he reached the end.
He closed the screenplay.
Howard looked at the cover.
FOOTLOOSE.
He placed it on the table.
The next morning,
Howard looked at the script.
He reached for the telephone.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
"Fantasy Pictures."
It was Linda.
"Howard Rosenman."
"One moment."
A few seconds later, James came on the line.
"Howard?"
"I finished your script."
"And?"
Howard looked down at the pages covered with notes.
"We need to talk."
"When are you free?"
"Tomorrow."
"Morning?"
"Ten?"
"I'll be there."
The call ended.
Howard put the receiver down.
The next morning.
Fantasy Pictures.
Howard arrived shortly before ten with the Footloose screenplay.
Howard walked into the office and placed the script on the desk.
James looked at the pencil marks scattered across the pages.
"You really did read it."
"Production notes."
"Coffee?"
"Please."
A few minutes later Linda brought two cups into the office and left them on the desk.
Howard picked up his coffee.
"So."
"So."
Howard tapped the screenplay.
"I like it."
James waited.
"That's all?"
"What were you expecting?"
"More."
"Do you want a producer or someone to flatter you?"
"Producer."
"Good."
Howard opened the screenplay.
"Let's start with the music."
James opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper.
He handed it across the desk.
Howard took it.
His eyes moved down the page.
Kenny Loggins, Deniece Williams, Bonnie Tyler,Shalamar,Mike Reno,Ann Wilson.
I need you to secure these people to sing these songs.
Howard picked up the list again.
"All of them?"
"Preferably."
"And if someone says no?"
"Find someone with a similar voice and style."
Howard looked at the names.
"Some of these people aren't going to be easy."
"I didn't expect them to be."
"And contracts?"
"You handle them along with my lawyer Martha, I will give you her number."
"What about recording?"
"I'm acquiring Contemporary Records."
"Hopefully within two weeks."
"Complete recording studio. Existing staff."
Howard nearly spat his coffee.
"You're buying a record label to just for one album ?"
"Not just for one album."
Howard shook his head and returned to the screenplay.
"What about choreography?"
"That's your second job."
"I don't know enough about dancing circle to hire anyone."
"I need someone who understands Movie dance. Not just stage performances."
"Especially for the final dance."
"And rehearsals."
"And training the actors."
"Speaking of actors, who do you have?"
"No one."
"No one?"
"Public auditions next month."
"For the leads?"
"Everyone."
Howard looked up.
"You're opening the whole cast?"
"Why not?"
"Because you'll have thousands of people showing up."
"Then we'll have thousands of people to choose from."
Howard laughed.
"You're going to regret saying that."
"Probably."
"What about established actors?"
"They can audition too."
Howard tapped the screenplay.
"You need people who can act and dance."
"Acting first."
Howard nodded.
"We can teach someone to dance better."
"It's harder to teach someone to act."
"When do you want to shoot?"
"Hopefully by first week of November."
Howard spat his coffee for real this time.
"That's just a month and half, Are you crazy ?"
"Yes, I am being serious."
"Then rehearsals need to start as soon as the cast is chosen."
"I know."
"Especially the leads."
"You're asking for a lot."
"I'm paying you."
"You haven't hired me yet."
James looked at him.
"Do you want the job?"
Howard picked up his coffee.
"What exactly are you offering?"
James smiled.
"Now we're talking."
For the next several minutes they discussed the actual position, His part of responsibility and his pay of producing the movie.
Howard would produce Footloose.
He would help assemble the production, secure the singers, find a choreographer, work on casting, locations, rehearsals and schedule.
James would direct.
Fantasy Pictures would finance the movie.
Howard looked at him.
"And when we disagree?"
"We talk."
"And if we still disagree?"
"Then I'll hire another producer."
Howard laughed.
"At least you're honest."
James extended his hand.
Howard looked at it then shook it.
"Alright."
James smiled.
"Welcome to Footloose."