So we're OK with shitcanning someone on the basis of allegations now, are we?rubato wrote:https://techcrunch.com/2017/10/12/amazo ... legations/
Apparently the turn against sexual harassment in the entertainment industry is spreading. So why is this the instance that is kicking off a social movement and not Cosby/OReilly/Ailes? et al.Amazon Studios suspends chief Roy Price following harassment allegations
yrs,
rubato
Yes, I am ok with this. There is no criminal penalty. He has not been charged with a crime. His employer apparently found the allegations credible. One of the things which make the accusers of Cosby and Weinstein very credible is the number of victims and similarity of the behaviors described. Perehaps that is the case here. But really, if Jeff Bezos is tired of you, you're gone.Bicycle Bill wrote:So we're OK with shitcanning someone on the basis of allegations now, are we?rubato wrote:https://techcrunch.com/2017/10/12/amazo ... legations/
Apparently the turn against sexual harassment in the entertainment industry is spreading. So why is this the instance that is kicking off a social movement and not Cosby/OReilly/Ailes? et al.Amazon Studios suspends chief Roy Price following harassment allegations
yrs,
rubato
Welcome back to Salem, Massachusetts circa 1692.
-"BB"-
You are aware that there were other punishments besides death by hanging in the days of the Salem witch trials, aren't you?BoSoxGal wrote:Bullshit.
Suspension from a professional position with a private company in keeping with one's employment contract based on credible allegations of misbehavior in the workplace by other employees of that company is hardly comparable to death by hanging.
I will not respond to such a ridiculous and unwarranted question; even merely acknowledging the remark gives it more dignity than it deserves. Shame on you for even having such a thought.Are you a misogynist Bill? Have you been a habitual sexual harasser in your interactions with women? If not, why are you so quick to defend the men accused of harassment and not believe the women coming forward?
Hear, hear!!datsunaholic wrote:I admit that I've been no Saint when it comes to my interactions with women. I've been accused of all sorts of things, or have actually DONE things or thought things that were inappropriate.
One of my sister's friends berated all malekind over the concept that some guys are saying they don't know how to act around women anymore. That's an issue- because where is the line?
I understand that women don't want to be harassed. I'm not sure anyone wants to be harassed, but what's the line? It differs from person to person. When I was in the Military we were given training on the subject. Complete with a "stoplight" type flowchart. That was in preparation for a ship which had been male-only crewed for 29 years getting its first female sailors. Big change. We were told no more racy/salty jokes. Other stuff I can't remember. Then the women came on board and some of them told jokes far racier/saltier than we told before they showed up. Confusing.
Some is pretty clear cut to me. Don't go touching people. Well, shaking hands in greeting is usually OK (unless there's a cultural reason not to), slapping someone on the butt is not. Telling someone to adhere to dress code is OK, telling someone to dress more sexy is not. List goes on.
One issue I have is the difference between offending someone and harassing them. Harassment is always wrong- offending isn't always. I can try to never offend anyone, but that's not possible. I can offend people with facts as easily as with opinions. I can offend people by not taking a stance at all. And some people seem to take any offense as harassment. It's not. It can become so if persistent.
The definition of "Harassment" I've always seen includes the word "Unwanted". I've heard some people say that means no hitting on people in the workplace. Or on the street. Well, if it wasn't for my Dad asking my Mom out on a date AT WORK I wouldn't be here. I've also heard people say that if you've been told no for a date once, that's it, don't try again. Yet I know couples that happened BECAUSE of persistence. So what's the line? Is it how it's said?
I don't have a frame of reference for sexual harassment because I've never been. Oh, I've been bullied- as a little kid in grade school, and that was by more girls than boys simply because my class was 2/3rds girls and I was the shy fat kid. That wasn't sexual harassment- it was just bullying. Now, every woman I know has experienced some form of sexual harassment in their life- some have been assaulted, and I know one who was raped (that i know of, I'm sure there are others I know). It's a terrible thing. I don't know how to change that culture. I'm on pins and needles with every female friend I have because of my past transgressions. I don't want to go through it again, I don't want to hurt anyone again. I have to contain my desires, because they are impure.
Oh I dunno, how about stop being so gropey/rapey, and stop making excuses for and normalizing the gropey/rapey behavior of others? Like I said: Be polite, be friendly, don't be a creep.Bicycle Bill wrote: I feel that the early, outspoken radical feminists (you know the ones I'm talking about; they're the ones who wanted the word 'history' spelled 'hystory' or 'herstory', and refused to use the term 'women' because it had the word 'men' in it) sold most women the lie that all men are nothing more than walking, talking, breathing rape machines who, if given half the chance, would drag them down a dark alley and have their way with them; but just like the trope that all blondes are airheads, there is no truth in it. Now, how do we change THAT cultural viewpoint?
Big RR, I'm pretty sure that both you Sue are going to receive exactly the same remuneration for your billing on this...Big RR wrote:You sure you're a lawyer Sue; your last sentence pretty much sums up what I said, but I used a lot more words to justify my bill.
One person's "lewd/offensive remark" is another person's belly laugh.Sue U wrote:Is it really that difficult to be social and sociable without making lewd/offensive remarks or seeking sexual contact? .
Not by the bunch of utter bollocking shitwanks I work with I'm not.Big RR wrote:True and at home you can do/say pretty much what you want--at work you're held to a higher standard.
READ THIS
TO: EVERYONE
WRITTEN BY: Scott Rosenberg
RE: Harvey Weinstein
So, uh, yeah.
We need to talk about Harvey.
I was there, for a big part of it.
From, what, 1994 to the early 2000s?
Something like that.
Certainly The Golden Age.
The “PULP FICTION”, “SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE”, “CLERKS”, “SWINGERS”, “SCREAM”, “GOOD WILL HUNTING”, “ENGLISH PATIENT”, “LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL” years…
Harvey and Bob made my first two movies.
Then they signed me to an overall deal.
Then they bought that horror script of mine about the Ten Plagues.
For a lot of money.
Also bought that werewolf-biker script.
That no one else liked but was my personal favorite.
They were going to publish my novel.
They anointed me.
Made it so other studios thought I was the real deal.
They gave me my career.
I was barely 30.
I was sure I had struck gold.
They loved me, these two brothers, who had reinvented cinema.
And who were fun and tough and didn’t give an East Coast fuck about all the slick pricks out in L.A.
And those glory days in Tribeca?
The old cramped offices?
That wonderful gang of executives and assistants?
All the filmmakers who were doing repeat business?
The brothers wanted to create a “family of film”.
And they did just that…
We looked forward to having meetings there.
Meetings that would turn into plans that would turn into raucous nights out on the town.
Simply put: OG Miramax was a blast.
So, yeah, I was there.
And let me tell you one thing.
Let’s be perfectly clear about one thing:
Everybody-fucking-knew.
Not that he was raping.
No, that we never heard.
But we were aware of a certain pattern of overly-aggressive behavior that was rather dreadful.
We knew about the man’s hunger; his fervor; his appetite.
There was nothing secret about this voracious rapacity; like a gluttonous ogre out of the Brothers Grimm.
All couched in vague promises of potential movie roles.
(and, it should be noted: there were many who actually succumbed to his bulky charms. Willingly. Which surely must have only impelled him to cast his fetid net even wider).
But like I said: everybody-fucking-knew.
And to me, if Harvey’s behavior is the most reprehensible thing one can imagine, a not-so-distant second is the current flood of sanctimonious denial and condemnation that now crashes upon these shores of rectitude in gloppy tides of bullshit righteousness.
Because everybody-fucking-knew.
And do you know how I am sure this is true?
Because I was there.
And I saw you.
And I talked about it with you.
You, the big producers; you, the big directors; you, the big agents; you, the big financiers.
And you, the big rival studio chiefs; you, the big actors; you, the big actresses; you, the big models.
You, the big journalists; you, the big screenwriters; you, the big rock stars; you, the big restaurateurs; you, the big politicians.
I saw you.
All of you.
God help me, I was there with you.
Again, maybe we didn’t know the degree.
The magnitude of the awfulness.
Not the rapes.
Not the shoving against the wall.
Not the potted-plant fucking.
But we knew something.
We knew something was bubbling under.
Something odious.
Something rotten.
But…
And this is as pathetic as it is true:
What would you have had us do?
Who were we to tell?
The authorities?
What authorities?
The press?
Harvey owned the press.
The Internet?
There was no Internet or reasonable facsimile thereof.
Should we have called the police?
And said what?
Should we have reached out to some fantasy Attorney General Of Movieland?
That didn’t exist.
Not to mention, most of the victims chose not to speak out.
Aside from sharing the grimy details with a close girlfriend or confidante.
And if they discussed it with their representatives?
Agents and managers, who themselves feared The Wrath Of The Big Man?
The agents and managers would tell them to keep it to themselves.
Because who knew the repercussions?
That old saw “You’ll Never Work In This Town Again” came crawling back to putrid life like a re-animated cadaver in a late-night zombie flick.
But, yes, everyone knew someone who had been on the receiving end of lewd advances by him.
Or knew someone who knew someone.
A few actress friends of mine told me stories: of a ghastly hotel meeting; of a repugnant bathrobe-shucking; of a loathsome massage request.
And although they were rattled, they sort of laughed at his arrogance; how he had the temerity to think that simply the sight of his naked, doughy, carbuncled flesh was going to get them in the mood.
So I just believed it to be a grotesque display of power; a dude misreading the room and making a lame-if-vile pass.
It was much easier to believe that.
It was much easier for ALL of us to believe that.
Because…
And here’s where the slither meets the slime:
Harvey was showing us the best of times.
He was making our movies.
Throwing the biggest parties.
Taking us to The Golden Globes!
Introducing us to the most amazing people (Meetings with Vice President Gore! Clubbing with Quentin and Uma! Drinks with Salman Rushdie and Ralph Fiennes! Dinners with Mick Jagger and Warren-freaking-Beatty!).
The most epic Oscar weekends.
That seemed to last for weeks!
Sundance! Cannes! Toronto!
Telluride! Berlin! Venice!
Private jets! Stretch limousines! Springsteen shows!
Hell, Harvey once took me to St. Barth’s for Christmas.
For 12 days!
I was a broke-ass kid from Boston who had never even HEARD of St. Barth’s before he booked my travel.
He once got me tickets to the seven hottest Broadway shows in one week. So I could take a new girlfriend on a dazzling tour of theater.
He got me seats on the 40-yard-line to the Super Bowl, when the Patriots were playing the Packers in New Orleans.
Even got me a hotel room, which was impossible to get that weekend.
He gave and gave and gave and gave.
He had a monarch’s volcanic generosity when it came to those within his circle.
And a Mafia don’s fervent need for abject loyalty from his capos and soldiers.
But never mind us!
What about what he was doing for the culture?
Making stunningly splendid films at a time when everyone else was cranking-out simpering “INDEPENDENCE DAY” rip-offs.
It was glorious.
All of it.
So what if he was coming on a little strong to some young models who had moved mountains to get into one of his parties?
So what if he was exposing himself, in five-star hotel rooms, like a cartoon flasher out of “MAD MAGAZINE” (just swap robe for raincoat!)
Who were we to call foul?
Golden Geese don’t come along too often in one’s life.
Which goes back to my original point:
Everybody-fucking-knew.
But everybody was just having too good a time.
And doing remarkable work; making remarkable movies.
As the old joke goes:
We needed the eggs.
Okay, maybe we didn’t NEED them.
But we really, really, really, really LIKED them eggs.
So we were willing to overlook what the Golden Goose was up to, in the murky shadows behind the barn…
And for that, I am eternally sorry.
To all of the women that had to suffer this…
I am eternally sorry.
I’ve worked with Mira and Rosanna and Lysette.
I’ve known Rose and Ashley and Claire for years…
Their courage only hangs a lantern on my shame.
And I am eternally sorry to all those who suffered in silence all this time.
And have chosen to remain silent today.
I mostly lost touch with the brothers by the early 2000s.
For no specific reason.
Just that there were other jobs, other studios.
But a few months ago, Harvey called me, out of the blue.
To talk about the bygone days.
To talk about how great it would be to get some of the gang back together.
Make a movie.
He must have known then the noose was tightening.
There was a wistfulness to him that I had never heard before.
A melancholy.
It most assuredly had a walking-to-the-gallows feel.
When we hung up I wondered: “what was that all about?”
In a few short weeks I would know.
It was the condemned man simply wanting to comb some of the ruins of his old stomping grounds.
One last time.
So, yeah, I am sorry.
Sorry and ashamed.
Because, in the end, I was complicit.
I didn’t say shit.
I didn’t do shit.
Harvey was nothing but wonderful to me.
So I reaped the rewards and I kept my mouth shut.
And for that, once again, I am sorry.
But you should be sorry, too.
With all these victims speaking up…
To tell their tales.
Shouldn’t those who witnessed it from the sidelines do the same?
Instead of retreating to the cowardly, canopied confines of faux-outrage?
Doesn’t being a bystander bring with it the responsibility of telling the truth, however personally disgraceful it may be?
You know who are.
You know that you knew.
And do you know how I know that you knew?
Because I was there with you.
And because everybody-fucking-knew.
