Colonel, I want to talk to you about West Side Story.
Have a seat.
It's a big classic film, and they want me for the lead. I can act the hell out of it, Colonel.
Have you seen the shooting schedule? Six months, we can make five films at that time.
But it's a chance to do something special, something really good.
Elvis, let me give you a lesson on economics. G.I. Blues, your first movie back, one of them "blame musicals" you always grap about. A blockbuster, made us millions. Your second movie, Flaming Star, an ambitious drama, well reviewed, made zilch. What does that tell you?
Why don't you tell me, your chomping at the bit.
Folk's live sad lives. Your job is to give them ninety minutes to forget their pitiful circumstances, not rub their faces in some phony writer's misery. What they want to see is some paradise that you can ever afford to visit, lots of pretty girls and Elvis Presley fighting and singing a half dozen songs that we can stick on a soundtrack album. That's our bread and butter, son. We stick with what sells. You don't see the snow cone man switch from cherry juice to prune juice just because he's got some blockage in the poop chute.
