The Most Dangerous Game

By Richard Stengel

Young Hollywood moguls play with deadly force

FADE IN. INTERIOR. HOLLYWOOD OFFICE.

HOWIE HIP, 24, a movie mogul who worked his way from Harvard to the William Morris agency mail room to the head of a major studio in just under three weeks, sits behind an expansive desk. He is screaming into the telephone.

HOWIE: Two million for that has-been? What do you think this is, the Salvation Army? His last movie did bubkes. The guy gets 40 grand, all of it deferred. This is war. Call me when you get smart. (He slams down the phone.)

DISSOLVE TO EXTERIOR. DESERT. DAY.

Howie, now clad in camouflage fatigues with matching loafers, crouches behind a cactus cradling a gun. A figure tiptoes out from behind a rock 30 ft. away. Howie fires; a pellet of red paint splatters across the man's chest.

HOWIE: You're history, creep! Don't mess with Howie Hip. SLOW FADE.

In the town where life imitates screenplays, business resembles B war movies. Every morning baby moguls strap themselves into their BMWs and zoom off to wage battle and make deals at the studios.

But this elite corps has a more literal field of combat. The most dangerous game in town these days really is a game. Called Survival, it is a simulated war exercise like Capture the Flag in which players use paint-shooting guns to "eliminate" the enemy. First popularized in New England, each game lasts no more than an hour; the victors must win two out of three.

Every other weekend a brigade of up-and-cunning Hollywood talent -including Adam Fields, vice president of production for Ned Tanen; Actor Emilio Estevez; Barry Josephson, a personal manager; John Tarnoff, an independent producer; Jeff ("Mad Dog") Kanew, director of Revenge of the Nerds; and led by International Creative Management Agent Jeremy Zimmer -troops off to the rugged brush of the Palmdale desert about an hour's drive north of Los Angeles. There in their camouflage fatigues, they plot strategy and generally run around shrieking and shooting like underfed versions of SylvesterStallone in First Blood. Says Ron Rotholz, an assistant to Lawrence Gordon, president of 20th Century-Fox: "Survival is the name of the game in Hollywood. The game is a smaller version of the dog-eat-dog world of show biz.''

On one recent Sunday morning the 17-man Hollywood squad is competing against a team composed of non-Hollywood types. They assemble on the boulder-strewn, ravine-lined battlefield. Most smear camouflage makeup on their faces. The wiry, cocksure Fields does not: "I want them to see who kills them." He can taste it. "I'm ready," he deadpans. "I strangled my neighbor's dog this morning. He was only a mutt." A referee in the center of the field distributes to everyone a pistol, holster, carbon-dioxide cartridges, goggles and brightly colored "elimination" vests for those who are shot. Before departing, the referee warns the weekend warriors to be wary of rattlesnakes. Under his breath, Kanew sneers, "You have to distinguish between the snakes in the field and the ones who come to play."

The contest begins as "General" Zimmer commands six players to guard the flag and orders two attack squads to seize the enemy's standard. At first, all is silent save for the desert wind whipping through the brush. Then the defenders spot an infiltrator 40 ft. away. Rotholz opens fire. Splat. "I got him. I got him," he yells. Meanwhile, three of the Hollywood 17 penetrate their opponents' defense and grab their flag. First round to Hollywood. Much gloating follows.

The second round also goes to Hollywood, when a why production executive grabs the flag while under fire and sprints back to his own lines as Mad Dog Kanew supplies blood-curdling war whoops. Even though they have clinched victory, General Zimmer gives his troops a pep talk before the third game. "We'll stay back and ambush them, get into the car and go home to work. We haven't made any deals yet today, have we?" His men growl with anticipation.

All the participants agree that their on-field behavior mirrors their off-field style. Says Zimmer: "We love competition. We love action and tension. All the guys I know in this business work all week, all weekend. Doing the job is a rush, and the Survival game is a concentrated rush." They take the game seriously, themselves slightly less so. Even Mad Dog, who says, "To me this is just playing cops-and-robbers or cowboys-and-Indi-ans." Hmmm. An idea.

INTERIOR. HOLLYWOOD OFFICE. DAY.

HOWIE (on the phone): It's high concept. A bunch of young moguls play this simulated war game every Sunday, and suddenly it turns ugly when a frustrated screenwriter packs a real pistol and shoots his agent. I'm talking blockbuster.

With reporting by Denise Worrell