NOTEBOOK -- william lobdell

Some time ago -- was it eight, nine, 10 years already? -- a friend and I

wrote a screenplay. The plot went something like this: an aging,

embittered newspaper reporter in a coastal resort town turns into serial

killer, knocking off society types (I have no idea where the idea came

from).

Each night, after we’d put the kids to bed, I’d meet my writing partner

at his house for two hours and hammer out a few pages at a computer in

his spare bedroom. Six months later, we’d finished a screenplay.

“Cool, but now what?” we thought.

Hollywood, just 45 miles up the freeway, seemed to us like a well-guarded

fortress, a million miles away.

How in the world would we ever get our check for $1 million?

We did what we could.

We sent the screenplay to agents we didn’t know, and friends of friends

of friends who had no clue who we were and weren’t interested in finding

out. We never heard from any of them -- hard to imagine, considering the

brilliance of the material we dropped under their noses.

Finally, we tried my mom’s friend’s son’s wife. She was starting out in

Hollywood, Mom said, trying to get movies produced.

“You should give her a try,” Mom said. “My friend Ann says she’s very

nice.”

Mother, of course, knows best.

Linda Goldstein Knowlton was an angel. She returned our calls, looked at

our screenplay, met with us, offered suggestions and referred us to

agents. She even invited us -- two goofs from the suburbs -- to a pretty

cool Hollywood party. My wife thought we’d made it.

Our screenplay -- which, in hindsight, wasn’t exactly “Chinatown” --

eventually died of natural causes, but I’ll never forget Linda’s

kindness.

She went way out of her way for us, and, even though our fling with

Hollywood was short, we knew this was unusual.

I vowed to never bother her again until I had a worthy screenplay. And so

for nearly a decade, I’ve had no reason to contact Linda, and we’ve lost

touch. You just don’t keep good track of your mom’s friend’s son’s wife.

Until last week.

That’s when Linda called me out of the blue and invited me to a screening

of her new movie, “Crazy in Alabama,” which debuts today. After seven

years in Hollywood as an independent producer, she now has her first two

films out (critically acclaimed “Mumford” is the second). And now I could

do her a favor and give her some publicity.

Linda got into the producing business by accident. She couldn’t get a

political job in Washington, D.C. so she answered a “help wanted” ad

placed by the American Film Institute. Working there, she fell in love

with movies.

“I love to tell stories,” Linda says. “But I didn’t think I could write

and I didn’t want to direct. Being a producer is perfect for me because

it’s half creative, half problem-solving.”

She had to solve a lot of problems getting “Crazy in Alabama” made.

Linda, 34, spent seven years and went heavily into debt trying to get the

movie, based on a novel by Mark Childress, onto the big screen.

It’s an unusual film that weaves together two emotional -- and sometimes

funny -- stories about freedom, and anything unusual in Hollywood is a

hard sell.

So Linda would go from one end of town to the other, trying to get

someone to bite. And when she didn’t get a nibble from the last studio on

her list, she’d start over.

“People change jobs a lot in Hollywood,” Linda says, “so I saw all new

people.

“There’s a lot of rejection and discouragement, but I kept going because

I loved my projects. I was literally in love with my products.”

You may fall in love with them, too.

You should go see “Crazy in Alabama” because it’s a wonderful, rich film.

It’s tough to describe, so I won’t try here. But you’ll laugh, you’ll

cry, you’ll think. At one European film festival, the audience gave the

movie a prolonged standing ovation.

“I’m 100% proud of this film,” Linda says.

You should go see “Crazy in Alabama” because it has a terrific cast.

Melanie Griffith stars, along with Lucas Black (the kid from “Sling

Blade”). Meat Loaf is perfect as the corrupt sheriff, and Rod Steiger

almost steals the film in his role -- almost entirely ad-libbed -- as an

eccentric judge.

You should go see “Crazy in Alabama” because it’s the directorial debut

of Antonio Banderas, Griffith’s husband and veteran of 54 movies,

including “Mask of Zorro,” “Interview With the Vampire” and “Desperado.”

I was as skeptical as the next guy about Banderas’ ability to direct, but

he’s very good. See for yourself.

But you should really go see “Crazy in Alabama” because it’s a beautiful

film, lovingly shepherded along for the better half of a decade by Linda

Goldstein Knowlton -- the type of person Hollywood could use more of.

And besides, when I finish that perfect screenplay -- the kind someone

would sacrifice seven years of her life for -- she’ll be the one producer

who’ll return my call.

* WILLIAM LOBDELL is the editor of Times Community News. His e-mail

address is o7 [email protected]