The New York Times ran a crazy story about Mr. Carl Erik Rinsch, whose runaway production for Netflix cost $55M and will never be seen.
It’s behind a paywall, but you can get the details from The Wrap.
It’s pretty incredible.
I spent some time in my 20s and early 30s doing the Hollywood party-hopping thing (I’m not proud) and it was generally a waste of time...but educational, in its way.
There was a certain kind of shady character that you’d run into who would talk a good game and be out with some model/actress/girlfriend and be charming and handsome...but I swear, these guys (it was always guys) gave me the creeps.
You’d hear, “That guy’s making three movies in Bulgaria” or “he owns such-and-such” or “he’s dating so and so”—but they just seemed like total bullshit artists.
I’m not speaking about Carl Rinsch. Prior to this article, I had never even heard of him.
I just remember the way these guys would try to suck people up into their orbit—but when you would talk to them, there was nobody home. Like, vacant and vibrating eyes.
A lot of times, drugs were a big part of it.
I just remember the blatant lying. Like, “Hey, here’s my number, we’re going to [address] next, text me”—and they would never, ever answer a text.
And that’s just a little thing.
Anyway, this business is full of scumbags, and occasionally one of them manages to rip off a ton of people and go on a wild ride.