Uh oh.

In Jerry Maguire, the key conflict was Jerry’s realization that he was putting a pretty facade on the moral deterioration within his profession, and was in fact complicit in it. It took an injured hockey player’s young son telling him to fuck off and a bad dream for Maguire to realize the true ugliness of who and what he had become, especially when measured against the high standards of his idol and mentor, agent Dicky Fox. Those troubling events created in Maguire a perfect storm of revulsion, introspection and a commitment to reaffirm the basic principles of his profession, which he laid out in his memo “The Things We Think and Do Not Say.” In truth, he had me at hello. Tom’s a hottie!

Like Jerry Maguire, I too started out in my chosen profession with the highest of ideals, which were sparked by a boundless love of the great stories, writers and filmmakers that inspired me. Like the best of them, I am totally dedicated to the pure craft of storytelling in film. It is all about The Story, which is bigger than all of us. That treasured craft has been handed down to us throughout human history, from Homer to Shakespeare to General Lew Wallace, Jules Verne and L. Frank Baum.

It is no surprise that epic stories like Wallace’s Ben Hur and Baum’s Wizard of Oz were made into films, or that so many of us treasure those movies like they were our own. Over time the greatest film stories become a part of us, interwoven into the very fabric of our culture and society, even our very personalities. Today in Hollywood that pure craft, though thriving on many fronts, is in deep trouble on many others. Like Jerry Maguire, I am witnessing the progressive corruption of the highest ideal of what my profession should be all about: the pure craft of storytelling in commercial film and TV.

More and more that pure craft is being poisoned by ideology, propaganda and malicious intent to insult or denigrate audience members whom certain creative film artists vehemently dislike. Tells, ideological plot points that are dead giveaways as to exactly where the story is going, ruin the viewing experience by instantly killing all tension and suspension of disbelief. How about taking viewers and audiences where they’ve never been before? It’s called high concept. Look into it.

Be it left or right, politics is artistic and box office poison. The low ratings and receipts bear me out. Bathrooms and kitchens are separate for a reason. It’s not very smart to shit where you eat. In the long and glorious history of storytelling on film in Hollywood, these developments are both modern anomalies and creative pestilences which offend me to my very core as a pure apolitical storyteller dedicated heart and soul to my craft. Who would dare tell Picasso he has to put Green in Guernica?

And the only health care I want to see pushed on film is Nurse Ratched, Dr. Giggles and Batman giving Dr. Crane a dose of his own medicine! Writers are artists, too. So, as a screenwriter, I’ve drafted my own memo. I may not always succeed, but I will do my damndest to uphold the oaths I now put forward to the American people, my fellow creative film artists, and to film fanatics everywhere on 3 Rock. Consider this my Jerry Maguire Mission Statement for Hollywood:

1. I promise to adhere to the finest principles of pure storytelling which have riveted men, women and children around campfires since the dawn of time. Those principles have endured across the years, decades, centuries and millennia for very good reasons. They will endure long after we and Hollywood as we know it are gone. That is our great responsibility to our past, present and future.

2. I promise to proffer the greatest respect to my audiences and fellow film artists regardless of ethnicity, religion, creed, gender, sexuality or belief system. We all want the same thing: great film.

3. I promise to respect the intelligence, dignity and sensibilities of my audiences and fellow creative film artists in my work, regardless of how stupid, misguided or insensitive they may be in real life.

4. I promise to bring the best of my talents and abilities to bear in telling the greatest and most compelling four-quadrant stories with the widest possible appeal for all. Box office tells the tale.

5. I promise I will not write any script or work on any project with the intent to advance any race, creed, religion, ethnicity, belief system or non-violent ideology over any others. Basic moral themes and conflicts are universal. We are all ultimately human on the most basic and visceral of levels.

6. I promise I will not allow my personal ideological or political beliefs to infect my work. The story is bigger than I am. Where the story leads I must follow, irrespective of all other personal political or ideological considerations. It should always be about telling the best possible stories on film.

7. I will not allow others to infect my work or corrupt my pure storytelling with politics, ideology or propaganda, or to maliciously target for insult or denigration certain segments of my audiences.

8. I promise that I will do my utmost to work in harmony with those creative film artists who may not share my most righteous and ultimately correct core personal, political or ideological beliefs, but share in the dream of creating great stories for the screen. The story is bigger than all of us.

9. I will never blackball, or attempt to have blackballed, a fellow creative film artist based on his or her own personal beliefs. Film artists’ creative talents and merits, not their belief systems, should determine their place in film and TV. This is America. Besides, didn’t we go through all this already?

10. I promise I will never blame any audiences if a story I write is produced and bombs at the box office. We creative film artists alone are responsible for our celluloid failures. I will take full personal responsibility and blame only the writers, actors, directors, producers or studios that screwed it up.

These guidelines are not the be-all end-all, but I do believe they are a good start. There are, of course, notable exceptions to some of these rules in the arena of  satirical and political comedy, nonfiction and documentaries. I’m talking straight-up creative TV and feature film production here.

To be clear, I am not trying to impose restrictions here. Just the opposite. I am trying to unbridle creativity to whole new levels. Ideology is a straitjacket which suffocates artistic creativity. It’s killing the craft of storytelling and turning off a whole lot of audiences needlessly. Worst of all, it’s costing millions of viewers and truckloads of money. How self-destructive can you be?

Whether this mission statement is taken to heart in Tinseltown in the spirit in which I have presented it is not up to me. I can only take the Hollywood horses to water. I can’t make ‘em drink it. But sometimes you just gotta hang your balls out there, because doing nothing is not an option. Just as it wasn’t for Jerry Maguire. Many thanks to Cameron, Tom, Renee and Cuba for showing the way. Hell of a story, Jerry Maguire. Made a ton of dough too! And no politics. Get the Big Picture now?

And who knows? If studios and creative film artists remove politics from the celluloid equation, renew emphasis on the pure craft of compelling human storytelling, and open the doors to all with the brains and talent to be there, it may just spur a new Golden Age of Hollywood. Can’t be bad. Hope Springs Eternal on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. I love Hollywood! Show me the money! End memo. Oh, and please don’t politicize SpongeBob and ruin it for me. I’d have to shoot you.

Nowadays, when I trawl through Blockbuster aisles, I find films with major stars that never saw the dark light of a theater. I’ve never even heard of some films. And I wonder about the parallel between society and film. History may be defined as the intersection of amazing events with amazing people. Will Mallory make the climb up the cliffs of Navarone? People created history by their choices, hesitations, fears, desires, whimsy, obsessions and visions.  Will the Colonel give in to Saito’s brutality? Great films, anchored by magnetic personalities, cast wide nets across our consciousness. Will Lawrence survive the Devil’s Anvil?

“Epic,”film producer Frank McCarthy (“Patton”) once told me, “is defined as a man who changes himself, his community and his world.”  In short, all the great character arcs in a movie script have driven the creation of events and epics which, in turn, are pushpins in World History. A noted script consultant, Chris Vogler,  distilled and explained the work of Joseph Campbell, an expert on tribal storytelling and myth. Vogler explains the hero’s journey through the Ordinary World, the Call to Adventure, the Refusal of the Call, Mentor, Threshold, Tests by Allies and Enemies, Approach, Ordeal, Reward and The Road Back.

I recently watched “JCVD,” a feature about action actor Jean Claude Van Damme’s downward spiral and its intersection with a bank robbery. The film was fascinating, awash with the celebrity-spin culture and its detritus.  Jean Claude plays himself in a confessional return to his hometown of Brussels and speaks of celebrity, inadequacy and his impotence against drugs and hype.  I believe that the film will become a noted sociocultural marker in the decline of Hollywood’s celebrity-driven culture.

The Great Epic World will always survive because the human attraction to its form is too resonant and deeply embedded in our humanity. Anchoring the Great Story on a ‘Star System’ is like giving an old drunk uncle with a key to the liquor cabinet and the keys to your prized Mustang. The rise of the celebrity culture is shattering our present film industry model. Perhaps this is good.

The industry was initially only feature films, shown with newsreels, cartoons, a B-picture and then the “A” film. Aside from rallies and religious gatherings, the movie experience was our common cultural touchstone. Then TV came into our living rooms where the binding involved “I Love Lucy” and Walter Cronkite. You saw both or shut your mouth around the water cooler the next day.  Jump forward with VHS, DVD, Blue-Ray, Netflix downloads, blogs, internet, Twitter, texting and cheap cell phones. We have the news burst cycle of seconds in an ADD mediacentric world. As individuals strive to establish their celebrity to become Stars, we experience the banality of the personal expose’ for the sake of fame, or worse, infamy.

This sensibility is confirmed by the misuse of ‘fame’ and ‘infamy.’ People don’t know the difference because, in a morally relativistic world, meaning doesn’t matter. Only the end result. Infamy is an “extremely bad reputation, public reproach, or strong condemnation as the result of a shameful, criminal, or outrageous act.” Fame is gained through merit. Infamy through shame. Fame and shame. But both lead to celebrity and, so it is thought, to Stardom.

With the assault of posts on Twitter, Facebook, Digg and more, we have lost not only our ability to focus, but on the meaning and stature of hard work, merit and heroic ordeal. One must ask onself: In today’s world, would Ulyssess feel obliged to Twitter his bathroom breaks?

We have lost the distant mystery of the stage. Looking up at our heroes, we sought their thoughts and inner secrets, their interests an tod experiences. Mysteries that we wanted to unravel, discover, and unravel again and again. But no more. My friend’s grandfather laments the downfall of newspapers due to the Internet, but I remind him that the crushing of the candlemakers by light bulb manufacturers was equally tragic. Both are the forward rush of innovation. We cannot turn back the clock to the past’s delivery of the epic but we can adjust our targets for the new media world.

Story.

When all is said and done, the story makes the star. The Journey of a thousand leagues gives them the adventure, ordeal, the mettle of a tested battle. And it is within our grasp once again. The cameras, equipment and computers available now to the filmmaker are creative, inexpensive and flexible. The early cameras were no more than a box with a lense, requiring a sunny day to get exposure on film with an ASA of 8. And as Chaplin once said for writing a movie scene, ‘Give me a pretty girl and a policeman.’  Drama ensues.

So as the Stars plummet to earth, the Creator may once again become a King of storytelling. Forget the Stars. Concept is key. Heed the Call to Adventure. Accept the Ordeal.

Return with Your Reward.