Johnson was snappish. “You do. What else?” to me.
I didn’t know. “Except that we have no plans for distribution as yet. That will have to be worked out.”
“Like falling off a log.” Johnson was happy about that. “One look at the rushes and United Artists would spit in Shakespeare’s eye.”
Marrs came in. “What about the other shots? Got a writer lined up?”
“We’ve got what will pass for the shooting script, or would have in a week or so. Want to go over it with us?”
He’d like that.
“How much time have we got?” interposed Kessler. “This is going to be a job. When do we want it?” Already it was “we.”
“Yesterday is when we want it,” snapped Johnson, and he rose. “Any ideas about music? No? We’ll try for Werner Janssen and his boys. Bernstein, you’re responsible for that print from now on. Kessler, get your crew in and have a look at it. Marrs, you’ll go with Mr. Lefko and Mr. Laviada through the files at Central Casting at their convenience. Keep in touch with them at the Commodore.
Now, if you’ll step into my office, we’ll discuss the financial arrangements—”
As easy as all that.