STS Ch-56

“Hollywood ignores all boundaries of propriety.”

When I picked up this month’s edition of Rolling Stone, I wasn’t prepared for the shock that awaited me. The cover was startlingly bold, almost confrontational. It featured two teenage stars of the film [The Blue Lagoon], barely adults, posing with hardly any clothes on. The glossy paper and oversized headline only amplified the audacity of it. As I turned the pages and took in the full spread, my disbelief curdled into anger. I was appalled by how far Rolling Stone and the producers of the film had stooped, willingly courting controversy to promote their movie.

One image in particular was especially disturbing. Noah Hunter, the film’s male lead, stood completely naked, his body exposed to the camera, while Julianne Moore, his female co-lead, covered his privates with her hands. In another photograph, the roles were reversed. Moore appeared in the same vulnerable state, with Hunter shielding her most intimate parts. The poses were carefully staged, lit to appear artistic, yet they felt unmistakably crude.

After seeing those photos, I flipped back to the cover to make sure I was actually reading Rolling Stone and not some sleazy underground publication. But there it was, unmistakable and unapologetic. My children read magazines like Rolling Stone all the time. After seeing those vulgar, morally corrupting images, I canceled my subscription without a second thought.

At first, my anger was directed squarely at the two actors for agreeing to appear in the photoshoot. But the more I reflected on it, the more I realized how misplaced that anger was. They’re still teenagers, still new to this ruthless industry. They can’t be blamed for decisions made by people far older, far more experienced, and far more powerful than them.

I firmly believe the real fault lies with the photographer and, more importantly, with the studio itself, which chose controversy over responsibility to sell its film.

Should we, as a society, simply accept this kind of behavior? I don’t think so. Let’s boycott the film [The Blue Lagoon] and unsubscribe from Rolling Stone to protect our precious children.

Ruby Rubinstein, The Los Angeles Times.

(Break)

“In recent news, the stars of the film [The Blue Lagoon] have caused immense controversy with a risqué photoshoot in Rolling Stone magazine. The two stars, Noah Hunter and Julianne Moore, appear nude in the photos, which has left the country in an uproar.”

The clip cut to a shaky outdoor shot. Around ten protesters crowded the sidewalk outside the imposing headquarters of Columbia Studios and Rolling Stone, their voices overlapping as they waved handwritten banners and shouted slogans at passing cars.

“Parents across the nation are protesting the morally dubious film and the effect it can have on both the young performers and the children who see the movie.”

“Shame on you, Julianne Moore,” a man shouted toward the camera, his face flushed with indignation. “We don’t want girls like you influencing our young girls in any way.”

The field reporter stepped closer and asked a follow-up question, holding the microphone steady. “What about her male co-star, Noah Hunter?”

The man paused, clearly caught off guard. He thought about it for a couple of seconds, then shook his head. “It’s different. No one harasses a boy on the streets. It’s different for girls. If they follow in the footsteps of girls like these, it’s bound to get them in trouble.

(Break)

“Are we in trouble?” Jann Wenner, the editor of Rolling Stone, stood by the wide window of his corner office, staring down at the street below. A small group of protesters clustered on the sidewalk, their placards bobbing as they chanted half-hearted slogans that barely carried up to his floor.

“Not really,” Harriet Frier, his second-in-command, said bluntly from behind her desk. She didn’t even look up from the papers in front of her. “Last week, it was ten people. Today it’s five. Give it a week more, and people will forget all about it.”

“But we have to release a statement in the next issue, don’t we?” Jann asked, still watching the protesters. “Or maybe through a reputed newspaper.”

“No.” Harriet shook her head. “Remember, we stand for freedom of speech and expression. This is part of that. That was the only reason we agreed to include all the racy photos in the first place. You and I both knew some backlash was inevitable. But so far, all I’m seeing are very positive sales numbers this month.”

She slid the latest sales report across the desk toward Jann. He picked it up, his eyes widening as he scanned the page. A staggering 118% increase in sales compared to last month. The tension in his shoulders eased, replaced by a slow, satisfied smile. Seeing those figures, his resolve hardened.

“Do we have other celebs who might be interested in a bold photoshoot for the next issue?”

(Break)

“I don’t understand why you had to pose naked,” Claudia berated me, her voice sharp and heated. She paced the length of her office, heels clicking against the floor. “You’re already showing enough skin in all of your movies, and now you just had to add fuel to the fire?” She turned her glare on Julie. “And you too, Julie? Didn’t we already have this discussion about your image and your parents’ expectations?”

Julie shot her aunt a frosty look, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I did that because of my parents’ expectations. I got a call from Mom, and she said…” Her gaze flickered to me for a brief moment before returning to the older woman. “Let’s just say she said some pretty mean things.”

“So you decided to ruin your reputation because of that?” Claudia fired back. “You know I’m all for gender equality, but our society isn’t. No one’s saying a damn thing about Noah because he’s a man, but they’re saying all of it about you.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what they’re saying,” Julie snapped. “I’ll do what I feel like doing.” With that, she stood up, grabbed her bag, and walked out of the office, the door closing behind her with a loud bang. Claudia and I were left alone in a thick, uncomfortable silence.

“Well,” I said slowly after a few moments, “that went well.”

“You think?” Claudia shot back, rubbing her temples in frustration. Then she fixed me with a glare. “After you’re done with [Risky Business], you won’t so much as take your pants off, let alone your boxers.”

“Jeez,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “What’s the matter with you? I thought you’d be more open-minded.”

“I am,” Claudia insisted. “Believe me, I am. But if you keep making the kind of films you’re making, sooner or later, that’s all people will associate you with. Families, especially parents of young children, will avoid your films, knowing you’ll be showing more than they’re comfortable with. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” I said. “But I didn’t really have a choice with [The Blue Lagoon] and [Friday the 13th].”

“But you did have a choice with the other two,” she retorted. “You wrote them, didn’t you?”

I sighed before saying, “I don’t write a story thinking of myself as the protagonist. I write what I’d like to see. I’m not some exhibitionist who just has to get naked at all costs.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” she shot back. “And if I can’t believe it, why would the audience?”

I sighed again and lowered my head, staring at the floor.

“Listen, Noah,” Claudia said, her voice softening as she leaned against her desk. “Julie isn’t understanding my point of view because she won’t even accept that there’s a problem. But you do. That’s why I want you to understand the consequences of the kind of roles you take on.”

She paused, then added, “Now, would it be possible to trim out your explicit scenes in [Risky Business]?”

I cracked a grin at that. “Actually, I don’t have any explicit nude scenes in Risky. It’s only the girl who does. There are sex scenes, but I’m always clothed in them.”

Claudia blinked, then nodded slowly. “I can work with that. Now all that’s left is [See You Yesterday].”

“I can change that one scene slightly to make it a little more conservative,” I offered. I didn’t like what I was suggesting, but it was better than the alternative. “We shot it multiple times, with different camera angles, just to be safe. I thought that if the MPAA causes trouble, we can always recut it. But if you think that’s better for my image…”

“So you have an alternative take, and you just choose to use the more explicit one?” she asked rhetorically. “And then you tell me you’re not an exhibitionist.”

I laughed at her deduction.

“As I said, I don’t watch my movies from an actor’s point of view. As a director, that one makes a lot of sense.”

Claudia waved me off. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Recut the scene before presenting it to the studios. That brings me to the next topic. I’ve secured a music composer for you. He’s very new to the scene, but he’s good. You go any higher, and your budget shoots up.”

Frank had offered to get me a composer, but I’d decided to go my own way and asked Claudia to handle it instead. Something about the looks I’d caught from those studio heads at the premiere made me want distance from Frank. I didn’t know what he’d told them, but I didn’t want him acting like I couldn’t have released the film without him. After working so hard on it, it felt wrong to give him any credit at all.

“So where is this composer?” I asked.

“He should be here any minute,” Claudia said, glancing at her watch. “His name’s James Horner. Since he’s new to the business, he’s agreed to do the score for just $20k.”

James Horner. I recognized the name instantly. I didn’t usually keep track of composers, but I knew him because he’d composed one of my favorite romantic songs of all time, My Heart Will Go On, sung by Celine Dion. Later, when Horner died in a plane crash, I’d gone down a rabbit hole of his discography and realized he’d scored so many other great films too, like [Aliens], [Braveheart], [Apollo 13], and even [Avatar].

He was James Cameron’s go-to guy. If I played my cards right, he could be mine as well. One thing I knew for sure was that he was a phenomenal composer.

While we waited for him to arrive, I asked Claudia, “What do you think of the reviews for [The Blue Lagoon]?”

“Ignore them,” she said confidently. “We knew going in that they were gonna hate it. So why bother?”

I didn’t say it to her, but I had read every single one of those reviews, and I couldn’t just ignore them, no matter how much I wanted to.

(Break)

Chicago Sun-Times
Roger Ebert
Rating: 1.5/4
“Sun-Drenched Innocence, Thinly Written”

[The Blue Lagoon] is a handsome but curiously hollow film, one that confuses physical beauty with emotional depth. Set against an island paradise photographed with postcard perfection, the picture asks us to believe in an Edenic romance that never quite comes alive.

Julianne Moore, who functions as the film’s emotional center, gives a surprisingly assured performance. She invests her character with a naturalness and quiet intelligence that lend the story a measure of credibility. One wishes the screenplay had given her more to do beyond reacting to the scenery.

Noah Hunter, playing her counterpart, is less convincing. Pleasant to look at and earnest in demeanor, Mr. Hunter nevertheless seems adrift, offering a performance that’s polite rather than persuasive. His line readings often feel recited rather than felt, though, given this is his first foray into acting, that shortcoming can be forgiven.

Ultimately, [The Blue Lagoon] is a film to be admired at a distance, much like its setting. It’s beautiful, yes, but remote and oddly uninvolving.

Variety
Nina Fisher
Rating: 2/5
“Lush Lens, Limited Substance”

Columbia’s [The Blue Lagoon] banks heavily on visual appeal and controversy, but the dramatic returns are modest at best. The camera luxuriates in sunlit skin and turquoise waters, yet the story beneath that sheen struggles to sustain interest.

Julianne Moore registers strongly, delivering a performance that suggests an actress of real promise. She conveys growth and emotional curiosity with a minimum of artifice, grounding even the film’s more implausible moments.

Noah Hunter, by contrast, turns in a performance that’s competent but muted. While physically perfect for the role, and far too handsome to pass as an everyday young man, he rarely rises above the demands of the plot. Still, all things considered, it’s hard to imagine anyone else playing the role more effectively.

The chemistry Moore and Hunter display together is electric. The picture will likely find an audience, but it’s unlikely to satisfy viewers looking for anything beyond beautiful naked people on a beautiful island.

Los Angeles Times
Kenneth Turan
Rating: 1.5/5
“Island Beauty Can’t Save Thin Drama”

There’s no denying the visual splendor of [The Blue Lagoon]. The sea, the foliage, the nude teenagers, everything is almost aggressively pretty. Unfortunately, that’s where the film’s strengths begin and end. What unfolds amid all this beauty is a story that never quite earns its seriousness.

Julianne Moore emerges as the movie’s only saving grace, suggesting thought and feeling beneath the film’s often simplistic conception of innocence. Even in compromising situations, she’s radiant and a pleasure to watch.

Noah Hunter is just barely able to pull the role off, largely thanks to his looks. Judging by the reaction in the theater, many women seemed to agree with that assessment. But if that’s your only reason to see the movie, you’d be better off buying this month’s Rolling Stone and saving both your time and money, because this pretty guy can’t act to save his life.

(Break)

Some of the reviews were downright cruel. Sure, I’m not the best actor, but I tried, for God’s sake. This was my first film. Couldn’t they have cut me some slack? One reviewer had even called for my early retirement, while another labeled me the worst actor to debut in a decade. 

I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand where I’d gone so wrong.

The original actor attached to the movie, Christopher Atkins, had been worse than me, yet I doubted he’d ever been criticized this viciously. Then again, he’d acted opposite Brooke Shields, who was a terrible actress herself in the movie. I’d had the misfortune of acting opposite Julie, who was exceptional, especially for a newcomer. Standing next to her only made my flaws more visible.

The real reason behind the pile-on didn’t occur to me until my sister pointed it out.

“Of course they think you were terrible,” Daisy said emphatically, sprawled across the couch with a magazine in her lap. “Even back in school, most of the boys hated you because of your looks. It’s the same with these critics. Most of the really nasty reviews are written by men.”

Once she said it out loud, I couldn’t unsee it. Every review written by a man seemed to complain about my acting in one way or another, while the ones written by women were noticeably kinder. Not flattering, exactly, but kinder.

That was something I had to fix in [Risky Business]. If I couldn’t become a dependable actor, no one would greenlight my future scripts if I insisted on acting in them too.

Just then, the door to the office opened again, and a man who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties stepped inside. He had an eager expression and carried himself with a quiet confidence.

I stood and offered my hand. “Noah Hunter.”

“James Horner,” he said, shaking it firmly before taking a seat beside me.

I was about to explain my requirements for the score when he cut me off.

“Before you say anything, let me tell you that I absolutely loved your script.”

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Claudia, who responded with a small, knowing nod.

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely relieved.

“I’m not saying that just because I need the job,” Horner added quickly. “When Claudia forwarded me the script, I started reading it casually, but five minutes in, I was hooked. I read it cover to cover. By the time I was done, I already had ideas about where the music should come in. I even recorded a few notes. Here, give this a listen.”

He handed me a Walkman with a pair of headphones attached. It was still a novelty, something that had only recently hit the market. I slipped the headphones on, and he pressed play, talking excitedly as each piece began, explaining which theme belonged to which scene.

As the music washed over me, I felt a certainty settle in. Between his enthusiasm and the sheer scope of the score, I already knew the truth.

I had to hire him, no matter what it cost.

Now, if only the opening of [The Blue Lagoon] would be as good as this music I’m listening to, everything would be perfect.