Interview (Part 1): Emile Gladstone

Recently I had an in-depth conversation with movie and TV producer Emile Gladstone. Previously a talent agent at ICM where he was a partner and co-head of the Motion Picture Literary department, Emile is currently in post-production on his first film Army of One, written by Rajiv Joseph and Scott Rothman, directed by Larry Charles and starring Nicolas Cage.

Today in Part 1 of the interview, we delve into Emile’s background and how he found his way into becoming an agent in Hollywood:

Scott Myers: All right. Let’s start with this. I was checking out your Twitter page, and it says, “Broken writer, turned talent agent, turned TV and movie producer.”

Emile Gladstone: That’s it.

Scott: Why don’t we start with that writer thing? Did you have an ambition to be one?

Emile: Sure, I came here in 1990, after graduating college to be a writer. I didn’t know anybody in the business. I came out here with a couple scripts and a dream, a love for movies and television shows. Just came out here like hundreds of people do every day.

Scott: You went to Emerson, right?

Emile: I did.

Scott: Did you study screenwriting there?

Emile: There wasn’t a major in screenwriting, but there were classed in both TV and Film writing. I was communications major. Emerson is a communications college.

Scott: Were you always interested in movies? Or, was it something that, when you were young that you…?

Emile: Yeah. I was a latchkey kid. I grew up in New York City. Both my parents worked full time. They’re both European and loved the arts. They allowed me to watch all manner of movies early in life. I consumed a lot of content, a lot of television, a lot of film, and I loved it. I always loved it.

Scott: So, then, how long did you persist in trying to pursue the writing?

Emile: For my first five years in LA. In August of 1990, I came out here. I managed to get a P.A. job on a…

I remember it really well, on a White Cloud commercial, toilet tissue. I wound up being a really good P.A., because, literally, I put the cokes in the fridge before anyone told me to. The line producer noticed that. Anticipate the need and fulfill it, before anyone asks you to do it, and it goes a long way. I worked full time in production for five years. I would work for three months then write for three months. Work for three months, write for three months. In ’94, I found an agent at William Morris, and I was signed there.

It was sort of like The Graduate, where I was in pursuit of representation. It wasn’t really about the writing as much as it was about the representation. Then, when I finally got representation, my material went out and didn’t sell, I didn’t really know what to do next. So, I realized, at that point, that I loved telling stories more than writing them. Only I had no idea how to get a job working for a producer.

Scott: To be a producer, but you segued into becoming an agent at some point. How did that happen?

Emile: Totally by accident. It’s ’95. At this point, I was a production coordinator on low budget commercials, music videos, and films, and I was going towards the path of line producer. I was going to start UPMing smaller jobs. I knew in my heart I didn’t want to be a line producer.

What’s really odd about Hollywood is that the left hand really doesn’t know what the right hand does. You ask anyone on the set what a VP of development does in the studio, they couldn’t tell you. They’ll probably wind up being pejorative. And you ask a VP in the studio the difference between a grip and a gaffer, they couldn’t tell you either.

So, I had this in depth knowledge and Rolodex of physical production, where to buy film stock on Sunday, where to buy camera expendables after midnight, which P.A.s to hire, who was reliable, and all of that. But, I couldn’t tell you how to get a job as the assistant to a creative producer. So, everyone told me to get a job as an assistant in an agency, and that would be a great place to meet people and eventually segue into working for a really talented, creative producer or a studio executive to learn that craft, and assemble those relationships.

So, I applied to all the agencies that you can think of. I didn’t really know anybody. There’s a lot of nepotism. There’s a lot of surreptitious ways that people get entry level jobs, and I just didn’t have the connections to get that job. You can think of maybe eight agencies, but there’s a 100’s past that. At the time, there was an agency and manager Hollywood creative directory database book, and I just started applying to every agency in the book.

A company called The Agency hired me to be an assistant to an agent. But he was fired and I’d been in that job six weeks. There was no mail room. It was a small company. There was maybe 15 total employees, maybe eight or seven total agents. The phone stopped ringing and I realized that at some point someone was going to fire me. One of the great things about writers are the community that they foster. There’s no other above the line creative community that fosters such honesty and true support, but writers do.

They critique each other’s material and they give each other pointers and thoughts on who to meet with and who not to meet with. It’s a warmer community than actors or directors. I had a great writers’ group of writers that I met with on a bimonthly basis. There was a script that I had read that a writer in my old group had written. I loved it. I called him up and I said, “Do you still have that script? I work in an agency now and I’d love to show it to some people.”

I’d been an assistant maybe six and a half weeks. He didn’t even ask if I was an agent or not, he was just happy that somebody called him about his material. He said, “Sure, do what you want, no one ‘s calling me.” I sent that script out as an assistant, and I sold it for half a million dollars. I got promoted that day. That started my career as an agent.

I was at The Agency for about 18 months, from ’95 to ’97. And then I was offered a job at a major agency, and knew enough about myself that I really didn’t have the training or the wherewithal to represent people that I didn’t truly believe in, that I didn’t really have the muscle mass how to service. I knew that’s what young agents do at big agencies.

I cold called Bob Broder, who was an incredibly respected agent that represented some of the biggest show runners. I said that I’d just been offered a job by a major agency, and I must be hireable, and would he meet me. He did, and he hired me. I worked really happily at that agency called Broder, Kurland, Webb, and Uffner for three and a half years.

That was a literary only agency, and represented writers and writer directors. It was a phenomenal place to continue to hone my craft as an agent, and represent who I wanted to represent, and how I wanted to represent them, and not have the burden of servicing my boss’s B-list or C-list.

Then I got a cold call from Rick and Julie Yorn who were starting a company called AMG. I became the first hire at AMG in ’99. I worked for Mike Ovitz directly for six months, three or four months before the company was announced as a startup, and then a few months after that.

Ultimately it wasn’t for me and i left after six months. But I did have a phenomenal opportunity to represent some of the talents that were the heroes of my youth in that time, and really learned about myself, and who I needed to represent to feel successful, and what kind of career I wanted as an agent.

Then, after that short stint at AMG I went back to Broder. I worked there happily for the majority of my career. We were bought by ICM in 2006. Then we bought the company back from a private equity, and I became one of the founding partners at ICM in 2012 and co-ran the motion picture group there.

I had a great run. It was a really great gig. It was a real position of privilege to be on the front lines of people’s creative lives, and to be a first responder. To be there when the dream comes true or when that dream sometimes turns into a nightmare to be there as well. I wore the suit proudly for 19 years.

Then, in 2012 my mother died, and my second child was born. I hit 45 and i had a revelation. I get paid a lot of money. But ultimately, when you are doing something only for the money, there’s never enough money. I was really safe in this job, working with partners i loved and respected, but I didn’t come to Hollywood to be safe.” I really wanted to be closer to the content. I have so much passion for it. Even with the challenges, it’s such a great time to be in the maker space. New platforms are emerging, new technologies emerging. There’s never been a greater demand for content. I thought, “If not now, when?” I talked to my wife, and I said, “I want to do something crazy.” She was game for it. Here I am, two years later.

Tomorrow in Part 2, Emile provides an insider’s view of what it’s like to be a writer’s agent.

Twitter: @emilegladstone.

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