Dick Tracy, the sequel. I pitched this idea to Mr. Beatty after the film was produced, but net yet released. When it wasn’t a huge hit, there was no desire to make a sequel. I pitched it to him up on his white house off Mulholland Drive. It was a beautiful modern house with a private gate and an incredible view of the valley. The furnishings were sparse and there was a baby grand piano in the living room. We had met before in his kitchen that featured two clear glass industrial stainless steel refrigerators.

It was a bright sunny day and this time we sat beside the pool. We were interrupted every five minutes or so as Mr. Beatty sought in vain to locate Madonna. It seems their relationship was on the rocks and she was nowhere to be found. “Have you found Madonna?” “Do you know where Madonna is?” It was so bright outside that I gave the entire pitch wearing sunglasses, which was a first for this writer. Usually, the star is the one behind the Foster Grants and the writer is squinting and sweating, but on this particular afternoon, Mr. Beatty seems to be doing most of the sweating.