Under the Influence with Terry O'Reilly - Rejecting Elf

Episode Date: December 19, 2024

Another one of our favourite episodes from our sister podcast We Regret To Inform You: The Rejection Podcast and just in time for the holiday, is the rejection story of the movie Elf. This beloved and timeless Christmas classic, starring Will Ferrell brought in over $200M at the box office. But, back in 2000 the script was rejected by production companies, studios, directors and actors. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi, it's Terry O'Reilly. As you may know, we've been producing a lot of bonus episodes while under the influences on hiatus. They're called the Beatleology Interviews, where I talk to people who knew the Beatles, work with them, love them, and the authors who write about them. Well, the Beatleology Interviews have become a hit, so we are spinning it out to be a standalone podcast series. You've already heard conversations with people like actors Mark Hamill, Malcolm McDowell, and Beatles confidant Astrid Kershaw. But coming up, I talk to May Pang, who dated John Lennon in the mid-70s. I talk to double fantasy guitarist Earl Slick, Apple Records creative director John Kosh. I'll be talking to Jan Hayworth,

who designed the Sgt. Pepper album cover. Very cool. And I'll talk to singer Dion, who is one of only five people still alive who were on the Sgt. Pepper cover. And two of those people were Beatles. The stories they tell are amazing. So thank you for making this series such a success. And please do me a favor, follow the Beatleology interviews on your podcast app. You don't even have to be a huge Beatles fan, you just have to love storytelling. Subscribe now and don't miss a single beat. Hi, it's Terry O'Reilly. Under the Influence returns in January. It will be our 20th season on CBC, if you can believe it.

And we thought we would drop an interesting podcast for you to listen to since we don't return on the air till January. This is from one of our other podcasts from the Apostrophe Podcast Company called We Regret to Inform You, the Rejection Podcast. It's an interesting show where we talk about various people and projects and films, etc., that had a really hard time getting made. And this episode is about the movie Elf. Now, Elf is a beloved and timeless Christmas classic starring Will Ferrell. The film brought in

over $200 million at the box office and 20 years later remains a holiday staple for many people. But back in the year 2000, the script was rejected by production companies,

studios, directors, actors. It was only championed by two producers with no producing experience. It's an amazing story of how Elf eventually got made. And here is the episode from We Regret to Inform You that details that amazing story. Hope you enjoy it. This is an apostrophe podcast production. We request to inform you that your application does not meet with Inform You, the rejection podcast. You are completely insane to think Will Ferrell should be the lead in anything.

Hollywood. There once was a young Jewish boy named David Barenbaum who was obsessed with Christmas. He said Hanukkah was wonderful, but there was a special warmth to the Christian tradition. So, each year when the snow started to fall, he'd cozy up and take in the Rankin-Bass Christmas specials, Stop-motion claymation animagic in all its red-nosed glory. It was the 1970s in Philadelphia. Barenbaum and his older brother spent most of their time at the movie theater. They liked films that transported audiences to other worlds. Indiana Jones, Close Encounters, Star Wars. But when Barenbaum was just nine years old, their father passed away, rocking the family. A short while later, Barenbaum's brother went away to university, leaving his little brother behind. But he would leave something else behind

too. His Super 8 camera. Barenbaum would shoot short films throughout the remainder of his high school career. And by his final year, he'd decided he would become a film director. The best way to become a director, he determined, was to become a writer first. He figured directors were storytellers, and if one couldn't write a story, they had no business filming one. So, off he went to NYU to study screenwriting. And if the little Jewish boy from Philly was going to pen anything, it was going to be a Christmas movie. Berenbaum graduated from NYU's Tisch School of the Arts in the early 90s, and without hesitation, he bid farewell to the Big Apple, opting instead for the land where movies are made, Hollywood. There,

he was ready to pitch his first real screenplay, called Christmas in New Jersey. It was a light-hearted romantic comedy, but it was cold-heartedly rejected. So, needing money for rent, Barenbaum took the next logical step. A job at a lingerie factory. By day, he made negligees. By night, he wrote screenplays. Barenbaum wrote a few television scripts here and there and managed to land himself an agent.

But soon came his first holiday season on the West Coast, and the green screenwriter started feeling a little red-nosed. Like his buddy, Rudolph, he was an outsider. California Christmas was sunny and hot. It was weird. His heart ached for the northeastern snow, for his family. So, to feel a little closer to home, he popped out to Blockbuster and rented the Christmas classics of his youth. It's a Wonderful Life, Christmas in Connecticut, of course, the Rankin-Bass classic, Rudolph. And he got an idea.

What if, instead of a reindeer, he created a Rudolph character that was an elf? But that elf finds out he's actually a human raised by elves. So he leaves the North Pole for the human world, New York City, in search of his real father. The elf, like Rudolph, would be a misfit. A misfit in the elf world as a human, and a misfit in the human world as an elf. An elf named Buddy. It was a story Barenbaum connected to on so many levels. A fish out of water, a quest for identity, a search for his father. He said it would be Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer meets Big starring Tom Hanks.

It took him all of two weeks to finish the first draft. On the front page, he typed the title. Simple. Three letters. Elf. His agent was impressed. And in 1996, Barenbaum submitted a sample of his writing to Disney. Disney rejected Barenbaum's script, but they didn't reject Barenbaum. They offered him a writing job.

With a steady studio paycheck to sustain him, he was able to leave the world of pantyhose and continue pitching Elf to production companies. But he faced rejection after rejection. That is, until he got one bite. The Motion Picture Corporation of America, or MPCA, decided to option Elf for one year. Meaning, MPCA would rent the rights, granting them the exclusive option to develop the script over that year should they so choose. MPCA was a smaller production company and a relatively new one that had made a reputation for itself producing low-budget films, and turning some of those films into hits.

A couple years earlier, they'd released Dumb and Dumber, to the tune of $127 million at the box office. So, naturally, MPCA looked at Jim Carrey for Elf's starring role. But Carrey's career had taken off. The Pet Detective was offered $20 million to do The Cable Guy, followed closely by Liar Liar and The Truman Show. Let's just say Carrey was officially out of budget. So the studio started throwing out other ideas, like Chris Farley. But a full

year passed, and MPCA's option on Elf expired. David Barenbaum was back to square one. Jim Carrey accepted The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. By this point, three years had gone by since Barenbaum first penned Elf. He continued pitching his story, and soon another production company showed interest, but nothing materialized. Then one day, a young executive by the name of John Berg came across the script. Berg worked in development at Universal Studios, but what he really wanted to be was a producer. So Berg invited Barenbaum to meet at a cafe near his office, and together, the strangers poured over Buddy's story. Berg could tell Barenbaum was talented, but he was a virtual nobody.

Actually, Berg was also a nobody. He hadn't produced a thing before. But he liked the crazy script about the elf slash man running around New York City, putting maple syrup on spaghetti and treating turnstiles like tilt-a-whirls. There was something warm about it all. Berg said in The Movies That Made Us that he could only afford to buy Barenbaum a coffee. Lunch was out of the question. But by the last sip, it was decided. Berg would become Barenbaum's manager, and together, they'd get this script made. John Berg had more insights into the industry than Barenbaum. He told him that sometimes, when pitching to Hollywood decision makers, it's helpful to have a lead actor's name already

attached. And Berg and his partner, Tom Kom Komernicki had the perfect name in mind. Will Ferrell. At this point, Ferrell was a cast member on Saturday Night Live, and had been for six years. A popular SNL sketch featuring Ferrell and Chris Kattan had just been turned into a movie called A Night at the Roxbury. And A Night at the Roxbury did not do well. Roger Ebert gave it one star, writing, Sometimes a movie is so witless that I abandon any attempt to think up clever lines for my review and return in defeat to actually watching the film itself. Ouch.

Farrell had played supporting roles in box office hits like Austin Powers and Zoolander, but he'd never played the sole lead in a film before. But Komernicky pointed out that Farrell was not only deeply funny, he could play deeply innocent like no other cast member. Naivete was the key to making Buddy the Elf believable. Remember, he's raised by cheerful elves in the North Pole before being thrust onto the mean streets of Manhattan. The next question became, how would they get the script in front of Farrell? Turns out, Hollywood is a teensy, tiny place. So tiny that Berg's Saturday morning basketball league featured none other than Will Ferrell's agent. So, the next weekend, he showed the power forward, the elf script. And to quote John Berg in The Movies That Made Us,

here's what needed to happen in order for that script to actually reach Will Ferrell. If Ferrell's agent liked it, he'd pass it on to Ferrell's junior manager. If she liked it, she'd kick it up the ladder to the big kahuna in Farrell's life, his manager. If his manager liked it, he'd drop it onto Farrell's desk, and only if Farrell liked it would he agree to meet with Berg. The script had to weather all seven levels of the candy cane forest And by some Christmas miracle, it did Berg and Komernicky got the call saying Will Ferrell was attached Will Ferrell said of his attachment to Elf

that his Saturday Night Live days were coming to an end, and when cast members leave SNL, it's expected that they have some pretty substantial projects lined up. And the truth was, he didn't. He'd just finished filming a new movie called Old School, but the release date was unconfirmed, which wasn't a great sign. So, when a script landed on his desk about an elf man, he figured, why not?

So Berg started calling studios, MGM, Warner Brothers, but everyone rejected Elf. Will Ferrell's name did next to nothing to get their curly-toed foot in the door. If anything, Ferrell's attachment was a detriment to some executives. He was too much of a gamble. One studio told Berg the idea that Will Ferrell should be the lead in anything was completely mad. Director Norman Jewison said in his memoir that when Moonstruck landed on his desk, it was the type of script that makes you suspect you haven't been offered a unique favor. It was dog-eared, coffee-stained, and well-thumbed. When he inquired as to who'd read this script before him, the answer was everybody. The elf script was no different. Berg and Komernicky had dragged it all over town.

But that's when they got a phone call from New Line Cinema, a horror movie studio. A junior executive over at New Line had come across the well-thumbed script, and he loved it. He loved Will Ferrell for Buddy, and he would option Elf. New Line Cinema was known for films like Evil Dead, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Friday the 13th. It was hardly a holiday movie studio. And that junior exec was hardly a seasoned vet. He'd never developed a film before. But he did know one thing.

They'd need a director. But let's just pause and do a little inventory of the team so far. Farrell was an actor who'd never starred in a movie, and they were optioned by a green executive who'd never developed a movie at a studio known for putting out thrillers. Enticing a director would be like finding someone willing to pre-board the Titanic. A-list directors were out of the question. B-list directors were, well, out of the question. And that's when Elf landed on the desk of an actor-turned-brand-new director. His name was Jon Favreau.

Back in 2001, Favreau was just wading into the world of directing. His acting debut was in 1993's Rudy. Three years later, he'd write his first movie called Swingers, starring Favreau, Vince Vaughn, and Heather Graham. It was a low-budget buddy comedy about Favreau's earliest years in L.A. Swingers was rejected from the Sundance Film Festival and would be considered a box office failure, though critically, it did okay.

Five years later, Favreau made his directorial debut when he wrote and directed a film called Made, also starring he and Vince Vaughn. But Made only made its budget back at the box office. Now he'd been working on a pilot script with Judd Apatow that didn't get picked up. When Apatow's manager, who just so happened to also be Will Ferrell's manager, sent Favreau a copy of the elf script. But Favreau wasn't interested. Favreau later said the script he received that day was different than the one we all know today. It was a little darker tonally speaking, more PG-13, and in need of some rewrites. He liked the idea of Buddy being a fish out of water, and he liked the idea of being a part of Will Ferrell's first solo gig post-SNL.

But ultimately, Favreau passed. It just wasn't quite there. But someone suggested he take one last look at the script. So Favreau picked up Elf again, and as he read through each scene, it clicked. The missing piece. What if the North Pole, aka Buddy the Elf's homeland, was that of a 60s Christmas special? A time capsule that would draw on nostalgia for the adults watching, but remain whimsical and silly enough for the littles. A more well-rounded family Christmas movie would appeal to a broader audience, of course, but to Favreau, it would also give them

a shot at creating a timeless and beloved Christmas classic. It was a lofty goal for a group of nobodies, but Favreau started writing. As soon as Elf skewed less PG-13 and more Rankin-Bass, Favreau said everything started falling into place. For one year, he'd rework the script. Then he met with Barenbaum, Berg, and Komernicky to present his draft. Favreau brought with him a book about Rankin-Bass, ideas on how to incorporate stop-motion animation, thoughts on the aesthetic, the wardrobe. What Barenbaum didn't know yet was that he and Favreau shared a similar affinity for elf culture. Favreau's mother passed away when he was young,

so he too could relate to Barenbaum and Buddy the Elf's quests for identity. When Favreau missed his mother, he too sought comfort in Christmas movies, despite he too being Jewish. Well, Favreau's ideas inspired six enthusiastic thumbs-up from the writing and production team. He was hired. There was only one problem. The head of New Line Cinema had misgivings. He wasn't exactly confident enough in the material, or, likely, the team, to dole out the cash needed. Berg said in The Movies That Made Us, it was clear Elf wasn't his cup of tea. But somehow, a budget of $30 million was granted,

and it was time to assemble the cast and crew. It was important to Favreau to ground Buddy the Elf's over-the-top innocence with a semblance of reality, and he'd do so by placing non-comedic actors around Farrell. For the role of Jovi, aka Buddy the Elf's love interest in the form of a Gimble's Christmas elf employee, they wanted megastar Katie Holmes. But Holmes passed, so they hired a 21-year-old actress named Zooey Deschanel as backup. Deschanel was a working actress who'd played a small part in Almost Famous. Turns out, she could sing, and they liked that. Deschanel later said it wasn't the first job she'd landed after the real star rejected the part. For Jovi's perpetually stressed-out boss, they wanted Wanda Sykes, but Sykes passed, so they hired actor Faison Love instead. Favreau wanted Legends' Bob Newhart for Buddy's adopted dad, Papa Elf, and Ed Asner for Santa Claus. Both, miraculously, hopped on board.

For the character of Walter, Buddy's biological human dad, they wanted comedy icon Gary Shandling, but Shandling passed. So their next choice was James Caan, a.k.a. Sonny Corleone, a.k.a. Hollywood's bonafide tough guy. They thought he'd bring a certain gravitas to the role. Caan accepted, though the cast and crew would spend the next few months terrified of him. Here we go. Rolling sound, play. Though the cast and crew would spend the next few months terrified of him. When filming began, Kahn started doubting his choice to partake in Elf, reportedly telling Will Ferrell one day after watching him bounce around the Empire State Building set that he simply didn't find him funny. In fact, it's said 63-year-old Khan just seemed irritated by 36-year-old Farrell, which worked out for the scenes.

Favreau said Khan didn't even like the movie title, Elf. It wasn't good. But Favreau could relate to Kahn. Favreau was Jewish and Italian. Kahn was Jewish, but everyone thought he was Italian. There was a baseline familiarity there. They had all of 13 days to film their New York City street scenes, many of which are Buddy's first moments in the real world. So, the wide-eyed and innocent elf goes up to strangers. A lot. Requiring believable annoyance and discomfort on the part of the extras. But Favreau says,

you can't fake that kind of contempt. They needed authentic, cynical New Yorkers. So the folks staring as Buddy runs around revolving doors screaming or eats discarded gum off the subway station entrance are, like Buddy, real people. Many of the shots of Farrell wandering down Park Avenue were filmed via a camera guy and a van. Farrell said he had a moment in the pointy shoes and the yellow tights where he thought, Oh my God, my career is over. But soon, the first scenes were ready to be shown

to the executives back at New Line. They watched as SNL's Will Ferrell, in a green and yellow elf hat, screamed, dad, dad, repeatedly through a gimbal's window display at a stone-faced sunny Corleone. And the studio head didn't so much as crack a smile. He hated it. And we'll be right back. Hey, did you know Apostrophe has a YouTube channel? You can listen to We Regret to Inform You and Under the Influence anytime. Just tap the link in this episode's description. For Elf's North Pole scenes, it was important to Favreau to evoke nostalgia, a timeless quality.

Remember, he was shooting for a Christmas classic. So in the scenes where Buddy is with his adopted family, the Elves, Favreau opted to use very minimal CGI. Instead, they'd use forced perspective to make Feral look three times the size of his papa elf, Bob Newhart, like Peter Jackson had used the year prior to make Gandalf dwarf the hobbits in Lord of the Rings. And in Elf, when the snowman, the narwhal, the penguin, and the walrus all appeared to wave farewell seconds of footage, making tiny adjustments and ensuring the light and eyelines of each character matched up perfectly. There were doubts on the part of the crew, but Favreau said when he watched the scenes back, it was magical. The only problem was, that magic was due to New Line Cinema in 27 hours, and they weren't finished. Jon Favreau was aware of New Line Cinema's feelings about his movie, and he was not going to give them another reason to leave Elf on the shelf. So, the stop-motion effects team had one day to shoot the remainder of their footage, and one all-nighter's worth of time to edit. And 27 hours and 12 pots of coffee later,

they managed to get the job done. With the final footage locked and loaded, New Line Cinema held a screening for employees and friends. And Berg, watching the film all together, said it exceeded his expectations of what the movie could be. The audience was loving it, which he hoped might force the perspective of the New Line executives. Next up was the final scene, the crescendo, where Jovi realizes Buddy was right all along, that the best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear. She serenades Central Park with Santa Claus is Coming to Town, persuading even James Caan's character to join in, and inspiring enough Christmas spirit to power Santa's sleigh and save Christmas.

But just as Santa appeared in the park, boom, the movie's credits appeared. New Line Cinema cut Favreau's ending. Favreau was devastated. At the end of the day, New Line had the final say, and they'd severed the scene that brought it all home. New Line reportedly wanted to make Elf a more traditional comedy. But there was nothing traditional about Elf.

Aside from the Rankin-Bass references, that was the point. Fearing changing the new ending would be what sunk the film, Favreau stayed committed to his vision. And in the end, following a revolt from the cast and crew, New Line Cinema relented. The final scene was restored just in time. And on November 7, 2003, Elf was released to the real world. In its first weekend in theaters, Elf earned back its $30 million production budget. By its second week, Elf was number one at the box office. Audiences fell in love with Buddy the Elf. And soon came the reviews.

Variety wrote that Will Ferrell graduated to his first solo leading role with Flying Colors. Then Roger Ebert, the first critic to ever win the Pulitzer Prize for Criticism, put his discerning pen to paper. Ebert wrote, If I were to tell you Elf stars Will Ferrell as a human named Buddy, who thinks he is an elf, and Ed Asner as Santa Claus. Would you feel an urgent desire to see this film? Neither did I. I thought it would be clunky, stupid, and obvious. But it took me about ten seconds of seeing Will Ferrell in the elf costume to realize how very wrong I was. He convinced me that this was a good movie, and that's a miracle on 34th Street right there.

Ebert praised the film's unexpected casting, and James Caan apologized to Will Ferrell, telling him every day on set he thought he was way too over the top. But now, now, he saw what he was doing, and it was brilliant. Ferrell gave Caan a wrap gift. Attached was a note that read, Great working with you. The first Godfather was a little bit slow, but the second two are really good. Elf would stay in the top five at the box office for nearly eight weeks, grossing $173 million in the U.S., another $47 million internationally, bringing the grand total to $220 million worldwide. John Berg would go on to produce films like Wonder Woman, Justice League, and Aquaman. Todd Komernicki would go on to write Sully, starring Tom Hanks. Zooey Deschanel would star in films like 500 Days of Summer and seven seasons of the hit show New Girl.

John Favreau would go on to direct Iron Man and Iron Man 2, create, write, and direct Disney's The Mandalorian, direct and produce 2019's The Lion King, executive produce The Avengers films, and play Happy Hogan of the Marvel franchise. The year after Elf, Will Ferrell would star in Anchorman, followed closely by Kicking and Screaming, Talladega Nights, Blades of Glory, Semi-Pro, and Step Brothers, making him one of the most respected and highest paid lead comedic actors in Hollywood. And David Berenbaum, the little Jewish boy obsessed with Christmas, who pitched a screenplay about a misfit searching for his father that was rejected by production companies, studios, directors, and actors, championed only by two producers with no experience, a director with little experience, a lead actor with no

lead actor experience, and a junior executive with no experience at a studio that had no experience making family-friendly films, became the writer of one of the most beloved and timeless Christmas classics of the last 20 years. This is the last episode of the 2023 season. And we want to say something. We all struggle with rejection. And one of the things we've learned through all of these stories is that it's so important to surround yourself with believers. People who see you.

People who can help you sail across the choppy sea. People who want you to succeed. David Barenbaum struggled to find that for so long. Rejection after rejection piled up. Nobody wanted Elf.

Until he found believers in Todd Komernicki and John Berg. And to prove how valuable believers are, they were able to attract a production company that specialized in horror films to produce a kooky Christmas movie about an elf. Never underestimate the power of believers.

And here's the thing. If you can't find a believer in your midst, if you can't find your people, or if you can't find a community to push you up that hill, dip your toe back into the warm waters of this show. The reason we started this podcast was to be a community of support for the brave, for those in the arena, for those about to hit publish on their YouTube

singing videos. For those sending out their manuscripts. For those standing outside the audition rooms. For those about to send out a resume. For those trying to work up the courage to present an idea to their boss. And for those like Lisa Kudrow, hiding under the covers after losing their dream job. Fear of rejection can be paralyzing. But listen to these stories again and absorb the courage found in the last four seasons. Because courage is contagious. If you're an actor, you can look to our actors. If you're an athlete, you can look to our actors. If you're an athlete, you can look to our athletes. And if you're a pioneer in your field and you don't know who to look to, look to our pioneers in other fields.

This season alone, if our subjects had given up in the face of rejection, we wouldn't have the music of The Supremes, Simon and Garfunkel, Missy Elliott, or Nina Simone. We wouldn't enjoy Hershey chocolates or the movies of Walt Disney, and we wouldn't marvel at the sight of the Eiffel Tower. There's a reason why we'll never run out of subjects for this show. Rejection is universal. You're not alone.

Actually, you're in excellent company. So when you need to recharge with the community, plug in here. And remember, never, ever give up. See you next season. We regret to inform you, the Rejection Podcast. Seasons, 4. Listens, 2.2 million. Episodes, 80. Success stories, 80. Rejections, countless. The Rejection Podcast is an apostrophe podcast production and is recorded in our Airstream mobile recording studio.

This series is hosted and written by me, Sydney O'Reilly. This year, my goal is to stop asking Jeff how to use Google Drive. Research, Allison pinches. Allison vows in 2024 to burn the fancy candles and eat the special chocolate. What are we waiting for? Director, Callie O'Reilly. Cal's goal these days is to stop waking up in the middle of the night wondering where her birth certificate is. To clarify, her goal is not to find it, just to stop worrying about it.

Engineer Jeff Devine, who is refining his dad joke repertoire before the arrival of baby girl Devine in March. Producer Debbie O'Reilly, whose 2024 goal is to tame her cowlick into millennial middle part submission. Good luck, Debs. Theme music by Ian Lefevre, whose only goal in life is for the sound of his own compositions to overpower the chickens clucking in his head. And Ari Posner, whose goal is similar to his partner's, but slightly less alarming.

To find inner peace. Tunes are provided by APM Music, and we're proudly powered by ACAST. The main source for this episode is The Movies That Made Us. Other major sources are listed in the show notes on our website, apostrophepodcasts.ca slash rejection. You can follow us on social for updates throughout the off-season at ApostrophePod. While you're there, let us know of any rejection stories you'd like to hear. This series is executive produced by Terry O'Reilly. Terry's only goal is to quietly keep curling Debbie's cowlick while she sleeps.

A giant, heartfelt thank you to you, our listeners. Have a safe and wonderful holiday. We'll see you in the spring for season five. There you are, alone in your car, waiting at a red light. Suddenly, there she is, pressed against your window, holding a homemade cardboard sign. Can you really tell what it says about her? Don't let homelessness assumptions get in the way of homelessness solutions. Go to CanadaCanDoIt.ca. Help the Canadian Alliance to end homelessness.