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Geoffrey Sanford started as a
baby agent in 1967 at Ziegler Ross, a small
boutique firm that handled Robert Towne,
The Ravetches (HUD), William Goldman, and
Roman Polanski. From there he went
on to head the Literary Department at CMA, one
of the precursors of ICM. After
a stint as VP at Warner Bros., he quit
to try and write screenplays. He
went back to agenting in 1976—has
returned every phone call by the end of
the day since then—and opened his
own agency with a partner in 1982. Four
years ago he became a part of what is now
Wachter, Sanford, Rabineau and Harris.
Some films written or written-directed
by clients are: GHOST, BULL DURHAM, REVERSAL
OF FORTUNE, PHILADELPHIA, PHENOMONON, CLOCKERS,
THE COLOR OF MONEY, RANSOM, ELECTION, ABOUT
SCHMIDT, LITTLE CHILDREN, THE KING OF SCOTLAND,
AWAY FROM HER.
Interviewed by Sheila Gallien
I know you have had a colorful life. How
did you end up as a literary agent? Very
mundane, actually.
My father was an agent. I resisted it in
my twenties, worked at Warner Brothers,
tried writing screenplays, but agenting
was the only thing I felt I did well. Over
the years I have come to believe that it
is a mitzvah to be good at something,
anything.
How is it different representing book
authors and screenwriters?
Input. I am rarely called on to offer
advice to a novelist about their work,
but one usually has something to suggest
about a screenplay.
You’re an agent at what might be
referred to as a “boutique agency.” What
does that mean for your clients?
Much more personal attention. At
big agencies, the agenda gets confused
between their very important director and
actor clients and their screenwriters. At
a small agency, there is no hidden agenda—we
are in this thing together.
It is common thinking that agents will
not represent someone with only one script. I
encountered a number of those agents myself
and, yet, you chose to represent me when
I had only one ( that I would show you). How
rare do you think it is to take on a client
without a larger body of work?
I, personally, only need one script. I
am just searching out talent. I can tell
that from one screenplay. Hell, I
am under the delusion I can tell it from
the first five pages of one screenplay. I
have no idea why other agents would need
more than a single script that they believed
in.
This may seem obvious, but what is the
agent hoping to verify by this body of
work? That the writer has range? Didn’t
just get lucky? Her mother didn’t
write it? Or are they hoping to
have other scripts to sell?
I never look for “commercial”. Like
real estate and “location”,
it is Talent, Talent, Talent.
Since the spec process is so slow and
uncertain, many writers make a living
off of writing assignments. You
once counseled me, when I was struggling
with whether to throw my hat in the ring
for a rewrite at a major studio, that
passion should lead all, and, sensing
my hesitance, told me something like “God
help you if you are successful at anything
else.” Can you elaborate
a little on your philosophy?
Well, if you start to guess, and
do work you are not totally committed to,
and God forbid it is successful, you are
rather lost. And, in a scary way,
I would think. You can’t trust
your instincts, you are subject to all
the whims of the film community, and you
have not found yourself as an artist. Yes,
as I think about, VERY scary.
You seem to have a long-term view of
the whole film business, and screenwriting
in particular. Do you think there
is a cutoff point, age-wise, for a “new” writer
to break in?
None whatsoever. Again, talent is
talent.
One thing you don’t hear much
about is the tender side of agenting. When
I worked at CAA, I often heard agents talking
clients through tough times. And
you always seem to say the right thing
to me, whether it’s about the creative
unconscious or business concerns. Have
you seen results from nurturing your clients?
I learned this in therapy. There
is a “healing” transaction. Calm
a client down, you calm yourself down.
Encourage them and you encourage yourself. Sorry
for the cliché: “The
love you get is equal to the love you give”--or,
something sixties, Beatlesesque...
I have a number of clients who work on
projects only to discover there is something
similar in development somewhere. And
yet, development often leads nowhere. At
what point should a writer abandon a
project for which they have passion?
Never. Look at the fact that two
Capote films got made last year.
What is the longest period of time
you have seen pass between finished project
and sale?
FREEDOMLAND—maybe fifteen years. HARROW
ALLEY, a spec screenplay I read in 1969
by a now dead once famous screenwriter,
Walter Newman, about the plague in London,
is still being developed and cast by my
friend Lyndsay Doran, who produced PRIDE
AND PREJUDICE, and once ran Paramount,
then UA.What is the shortest? (Maybe
we don’t want to know).
Everything takes forever. Nothing
comes to mind about “shortest”.
What do you think makes a writer stand
out in today’s marketplace?
Personal style. The writing reflects a
singular point of view.
You have mentioned to me that the studio
system has changed dramatically in the
last few years. Movie studios are
now just small parts of larger conglomerates.
How has that affected writers?
THE FIRST WEEKEND—Films cost over
a hundred million dollars and have to open
big or they get lost. It puts tremendous
pressure on everyone, including the writer,
to consider the “lowest common denominator.” HAROLD
AND MAUDE, MEAN STREETS, TAXI DRIVER, SHAMPOO—would
they get made today? I hope so, but
fear not.
You are a lover of writing. How
has that guided your career over the years?
Again, believing in, searching out, cleaving
unto, good writing. That has been,
really, my only goal.
Does good writing still matter?
It has to—or else I’m fucked.Note: The
Wachter, Sanford, Rabineau and Harris agency
is not accepting unsolicited work.
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| Sheila
Gallien has worked on some of the decade's
top-grossing films, and developed stories
and screenplays with A-list talent across
the board. She can help ready your script
for the professional arena. |
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