There and Back Again Read Online Free PDF Page A

life.” T.E. just laughed and nodded. That, I thought, would be the end of my association with Encino Man . But I was wrong.
    I had recently moved from a small, boutique agency to CAA, which at the time was seeming to gobble up all of Hollywood. In one respect, it wasn’t a move I enjoyed making. The agent I left was heartbroken, and Marion Dougherty, who had cast me in Memphis Belle, was so outraged that she called CAA and chastised them for poaching clients. But I was far from an innocent bystander. I no longer believed that my small agency had the power and influence to take me where I wanted to go. We had made a lot of money together, and I liked them as people, but as I became more knowledgeable, I asked more questions, and they didn’t always have answers. It seemed to me that they weren’t prosecuting my career interests in the way I knew the people at CAA would. My parents did not really respect my decision, but they didn’t attempt to dissuade me.
    I sensed that while my new agents were good at representing talent, when I walked into their agency, I didn’t feel like it was a power center where information is currency, decisions are made with lightning speed, and careers are built and broken from moment to moment. I don’t know if that speaks to the quality of the agency or Mike Ovitz’s genius at designing an architectural space (at CAA). My instincts told me that if I wanted a shot at a “big” career, I should try to mix it up with the sharks. I was willing to terminate my professional relationship with people who had genuinely cared about me to go to a place where I thought the agents could capitalize on my success and plug me into the action at the highest levels. I’m not proud of my decision to the extent that I was not necessarily a loyal client, but I understand the mandate of ambition that was burning within me. I would enjoy the fruits of this choice and suffer its consequences. After years of reflection, I can honestly say that the most important characteristic for an actor to look for in an agent is genuine passion. In this regard, my first agents were successful.
    One day my new agent, Mike Menchel, asked me to take a call from Jeffrey Katzenberg, one of the most powerful men in Hollywood. This was while Katzenberg was head of production at Disney, before he split with Michael Eisner and founded Dreamworks. The reason for the call, as it turned out, was to secure a commitment from me to appear in Disney’s newest project, Encino Man . It was being made under the aegis of Hollywood Pictures, a subsidiary of Disney.
    â€œJust take the call, Sean,” Mike said. “It’s important. See what happens.”
    He had a point. My father had told me many stories about the way studios worked, the personalities and egos involved, and warned me specifically not to ignore the gift of a personal call from a studio head.
    A few minutes later my cell phone rang. It was Jeffrey Katzenberg. I was so nervous that I had to pull over onto Sunset Boulevard, because I knew how important a call it was, that this conversation represented a defining moment in my career. How I handled it—not merely whether I said yes or no—would go a long way toward determining my future in the business.
    â€œListen, Sean, we really want you to do this movie,” he said. The tone in his voice was one of authority, and I admired that. He was selling the project but it didn’t seem like he was selling. It felt more like he was trying to make it clear that he had something to offer, and I would be a fool to turn it down. I tried to formulate the proper response, one that would display a proper degree of respect, while allowing for the possibility of walking away.
    â€œI’d love to work with you, Mr. Katzenberg,” I began, “but with all due respect”—I swallowed hard—“does it have to be this movie?”
    There was a pause.
    â€œYes, Sean,