Wednesday, December 4, 2024. Brian Thompson of UnitedHealthcare is assassinated in Midtown Manhattan outside of the Hilton that was used as a location in the 2007 corporate thriller Michael Clayton. That was a film starring George Clooney, but this is real life, and real life doesn’t star George Clooney—in real life, George Clooney is a disgraced extra, a bitter and resentful Hollywood stooge turned into a permanent joke. I mean, who has an op-ed ghostwritten in The New York Times? So tacky like. Wow. But anyway that was a pretty big story that I wish I could’ve gotten my beak into, but no, yes, you guessed it, I had to answer for the answer print to SATUR-19.
The movie is finished. Basically finished. Da Boss and I are going to watch it through together one last time before we make the final file. I asked him how he was feeling earlier. “Really, really bad. I feel like I’m going blind. We need to paint the walls in your office black so that there’s more contrast between them and the screens… also, I need a Vitamin D and B12 injection. Like now. Can you order me a burger and fries? I’d also like a salad and salmon filet. Just stack the orders I’m going to save them. Oh you want onion rings? I’m free associating. Did you know there’s no downside to pessimism and no upside to optimism? Barry Sonnenfeld taught me that.”
Da Boss has gone cuckoo. I can’t blame him, it’s a lot of pressure being Da Boss, and making movies requires an enormous amount of energy and patience. Things rarely work out and they always feel out of reach. They usually are. But when you hit it, strike it, match it, whoa, oh my GOD, it really is better than whatever you can think of. I have no idea why anyone would bother with human sacrifices when you could just spend hundreds of millions of dollars making a movie—of course, we didn’t have hundreds of millions, not even hundreds of hundreds, but we had concepts of a budget. And we made it happen. The movie got made. It exists and our names are on it. People are coming in to town to see it. Wow—that’s big. I’m a very old hen but still can’t believe people would willingly pay money to see something I worked on. Rooster and Benny encouraged me over the phone, telling me that despite the best efforts of Da Boss (they hate him, too), the last two movies I edited for him turned out “great” (their words). This one, they said, should be the best of all.
Da Boss calmed down and came back to watch the mix I’d prepared. Nothing but net left. “Yo Monica.” I turned my head. “Yesssssssss?” He turned his, away. “I’ve never slept so good in my life.” And then he was out like a light. I HAVE TO WATCH THIS FUCKING ASSEMBLY MIX ON MY OWN!!!!!!!
—Follow Monica Quibbits on Twitter: @MonicaQuibbits