Chapter 9: A Promising Comedian
Aaron Anderson quickly signed his second client—Nicole Kidman, marking his first official actor under management. Since Nicole still needed to promote her film "Dead Calm," Aaron, as her agent, immediately got to work.
CAA's roster now mainly included film producers, directors, actors, screenwriters, as well as singers and writers, numbering over six hundred. However, there weren't that many agents; even Michael Ovitz himself managed more than thirty top-tier clients.
New agents like Aaron Anderson and Jack Wells, having just survived the mailroom trials, were now responsible for managing several clients each. Aaron's main focus was filtering and scouting new projects for his clients—as long as his assigned clients actually had any!
Jack noticed Aaron quickly set aside some information packets. "You not interested in any of these?"
Aaron shook his head. "These Hollywood fringe characters don't seem to have much of a future."
Jack chuckled. "That's why they leave them for us newbies without any backing! By the way, there's a young 'Saturday Night Live' writer who sometimes does skits on the show. Interested?"
He slid over a file: Adam Sandler, 23 years old.
"Saturday Night Live" (SNL) on NBC was a hugely popular comedy show and had launched many notable careers. Some SNL-related matters even went straight to Michael Ovitz, given how many stars had come through the show.
Aaron glanced through the file. Adam Sandler joined SNL as a writer last year, and with a background in stand-up comedy, he occasionally performs on stage—a promising talent for sure.
"What about him?" Aaron asked.
Jack shrugged. "He left with agent Ari Emanuel, so he's now with ITA. Right now, CAA's trying to squeeze ITA out. If you can lure him back, you'll make a name for yourself."
Turns out, after defecting last year, some agents started ITA. Aaron smirked—wasn't CAA itself formed by defectors from WMA? The double standard was amusing.
"I heard Ari Emanuel is a rising young agent at CAA?" Aaron pressed.
"Yeah, him, plus Richard Lovett, Kevin Huvane, Bryan Lourd, David O'Connor, and Jay Moloney—they're the backbone of CAA's new generation," Jack replied.
Aaron stood. "Alright, I see real potential in Adam Sandler. Leave him to me."
The entertainment industry is a jungle of interests, bribery, betrayal, deals, and threats—with talent agencies leading the pack.
"Oh, and those projects needing young actresses you asked me about—there's news," Jack handed Aaron another file. "Touchstone Pictures, under Disney, is preparing a low-budget romantic comedy, maybe your new artist could audition."
Aaron looked: the story was about a wealthy man and a streetwalker titled "3000"—a rich guy pays a streetwalker $3,000 for a week, and they fall in love. "Thanks," he nodded. "This should become what we know as 'Pretty Woman'—it's still a dark script, but Disney will surely make it more of a fairy tale."
It'd be a great fit for Nicole Kidman, but how could he get her the role?
As the Oscar nomination dinner was held at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater in Beverly Hills, "Rain Man" led with eight nominations—another big win for CAA as a packaged project.
At night, Los Angeles' neon lights masked its darkness and vice. Outside a bar on Sunset Boulevard, a Chevy pulled up. Dressed in blue jeans, white t-shirt, and a black casual blazer, Aaron got out, grabbed his chunky cell phone, and entered the bar.
At the bar, he soon spotted Adam Sandler.
"Two beers!" Aaron ordered, sitting next to Adam. When the bartender hesitated—Aaron looked young—he slapped down a ten-dollar bill. "Keep them coming!"
The bartender grinned and brought over two beers.
"Are you Aaron Anderson?" Adam Sandler asked.
"Cheers," Aaron nodded, clinking glasses.
"So why'd you want to meet?"
"I want to sign you," Aaron replied, eyeing some Japanese big spenders in the dance area. "You've got real talent. Staying with ITA is a dead end—come back to CAA and go all-in as a comedy star. With your skills, you could really make it."
Adam looked conflicted. "But I'm still under contract with my agent."
Aaron was casual. "You signed with Ari Emanuel last May, right? For newcomers, it's just a one-year deal. Don't renew, and you're free. Ari's finished. ITA's going to be completely crushed by CAA—Michael Ovitz and Ronald Meyer decided so."
After finishing his beer, Aaron went on, "You can find inspiration from 'Saturday Night Live' and develop scripts. I'll help pitch them to studios."
Adam was surprised. "You can really convince CAA to pick up my scripts?"
"Why not? CAA does packaging. As long as the script stands out, it'll work," Aaron replied confidently, knowing Sandler's future stardom in the comedy world.
He wondered where Jim Carrey was at the moment.
Adam nodded thoughtfully.
Aaron reassured him, "Just call me if you need anything—March is nearly here. As for Ari Emanuel, don't worry. He's a nobody now."
Adam soon left. He feared CAA's power, but ITA also wasn't doing him any favors—after all, he was still just a small-time player. Aaron remembered how his own penny-pinching father would rant about Wall Street's 'Jewish vampires' before his fatal plunge, and how he never developed a liking for the Jewish contingent running Hollywood—Ari Emanuel included.