Flak Magazine: Jose Does Hollywood, 04.05.05

Jose Canseco sits at a desk in the vast office of a prominent Hollywood producer. Ozzie Canseco paces behind him. The brothers have just finished pitching the film version of "Juiced: Wild Times, Rampant 'Roids, Smash Hits, and How Baseball Got Big."

The producer exhales audibly. He runs a hand over his crispy hair. He taps his fingertips together. The Cansecos fidget. The producer pauses to remove his mirrored sunglasses.

"Frankly, I love it."

The Cansecos smile. They exchange a forearm bump. The producer swivels excitedly in his chair.

"Really. I absolutely love it," he exclaims. "I loved it before we even met. The book is a phenomenon. A cautionary tale about drug use. With baseball. It's like Traffic meets Bull Durham."

"Um, actually," says Jose, "In the book, I advocate steroid use."

"Naturally things get tweaked a little when a book becomes a film, Jose. I took this meeting today — and I'm a very busy man, Cansecos — because this book has tremendous vision. It's a manifesto on American celebrity. It has a mythic scale. Timeless truths. It has an epic journey. It has courage. It has triumph. It has...um, well, it has sex with Madonna. Sex with Madonna!"

Jose lurches forward in his chair.

"I really didn't have sex with Madon—"

"Again, there will be certain differences between the book and the movie, Jose. It's unavoidable. Somebody will have to have sex with Madonna. I don't care who. If it isn't you, maybe it's Walt Weiss. Or Harold Baines. Or Carney Lansford. That's not important. But the public just won't pay $9.50 to watch Madonna get cuddled, Jose. That's the way it is."

Jose stares blankly. Ozzie speaks.

"But Madonna might not be willing to appear in the film if their relationship is misrep—"

"Whoa! Stop talking, other Canseco!" barks the producer. "I'm not casting Madonna in my movie. I'd rather use puppets. Puppets!"

"But she'd be portraying herself," protests Ozzie.

The producer picks up his phone, presses a button, and begins speaking to an assistant.

"Get me a screening room, a copy of Body of Evidence and a hammer." He pauses, listening. "Ball-peen, not claw. That would be cruel. I'll be sending one of these Cansecos out to see you."

Click. He turns to Ozzie.

"You're going to sit in a locked room and watch a film, other Canseco. Make it through the movie without a self-inflicted injury, and we can talk about Madonna's participation in this film."

Ozzie looks toward his brother. Jose nods. They exchange another forearm bump. Ozzie exits.

"Where were we, Jose? Ah, the cast. Yes. Let's talk casting. Who do you see playing yourself in Juiced?"

"Well, as I wrote in the book," says Jose, "I'd really like to try acting."

"That's sweet. Really. Maybe we can give you a cameo as a Blue Jay."

"No, I mean I'd really like to play myself. You know, I was on 'Nash Bridges' once."

The producer is silent. Jose continues.

"And, um, I was on the 'Tony Danza Show.' And maybe you saw me in Mail Order Wife? Or Stripper's Ball? With Jenna Jameson? She's, um...well, she's very talented."

More silence.

"I was on 'The Simpsons,' too. And 'Reading Rainbow.'"

"Seriously, Jose," says the producer. "I don't see you in this role."

"But it's me. I mean, I'd be playing myself. How hard could it be? Are you worried that I'm not in shape?" He flexes. "You know, I'm a black belt in three different martial arts."

"That's great, Jose. And I'm a black belt in shut-the-fuck-up. This is my movie, Jose. The starring role is too big for any single actor. That's why I'm going to use two people to play you. One to play you before the steroids, another to play you after. To express your radical transformation. There's a Jekyll-and-Hyde thing at work here."

"Two separate people will play me?"

"Exactly."

"But I won't be either of those people?"

"No, you won't."

"This is like 'Who's on first?'"

"And the answer is 'Not you,' Jose. Like I said, maybe you can play a Blue Jay. A good one. Like Jesse Barfield or Lloyd Moseby."

"But I'm Jose Canseco."

"No, not in this movie. Name a real actor who can play you onscreen, Jose."

"Before or after the steroids?"

"After. I'm already negotiating with the actor who's going to play the pre-steroid Jose."

"Are they famous?"

"Very. Think Oscars."

"Tom Hanks?"

"No. But maybe he can play LaRussa. Think last month's Oscars, Jose."

"Um...Clint Eastwood? Jamie Foxx? Morgan Freeman? That dude's kinda old."

"No, Jose. Wrong categories." The producer grins. "It's really too perfect. I'm tickled. It's genius."

"I give up. Who's playing me pre-juice?"

The producer leans across his desk.

"Hilary Swank."

Jose slouches in his chair. "You mean the chick who played the chick who played the dude? That chick who played the boxing chick?"

"Yes! She's perfect!"

"She's a chick."

"We're casting the waif you used to be, Jose. A girly man. It's fantastic, yeah?"

The ex-slugger shifts uncomfortably. He's puzzled and quiet. The silence is soon broken by the sound of distant hammering, followed by a muffled squeal, then a dull thud.

"Hmm. Sounds like maybe Madonna isn't in the movie. Nobody makes it through Body of Evidence unscathed."

Jose begins to stand. "Maybe I should check on my brother Oz—"

"Look, Jose, I know it's tough for an artist to relinquish creative control. Did I mention that we're giving you a giant pile of money? Really, it's a giant pile," says the producer.

Jose sits down. He thinks for a moment.

"Stallone could maybe play me on steroids. Or Ferrigno."

"Yeah, that'd be great, Jose. If it were 1982. But we're trying to sell tickets to a movie in 2005. I'm thinking The Rock."

"Dude, I loved Walking Tall."

"Dude, indeed. I'm talking to A-list people about the other roles, too. Things are in motion, Jose. This project has momentum. Frankie Muniz is dying to play a pre-'roid Mark McGwire. And we're talking to Russell Crowe about playing Mac on the juice. He has some issues with the back acne, though. And he's not crazy about The Rock — or anyone else — sticking things in his ass inside bathroom stalls."

"It wasn't like that. You make it sound so dir—"

"I'm not judging, Jose. The Cusacks are interested in playing Rafael Palmiero."

"The Cusacks?"

"Joan and John. Before and after. And I'm thinking Bonds can be played by a combination of Michael Clarke Duncan and that adorable Rudy Huxtable kid. And Giambi might be played by Howie Long and an Olsen twin. You see the possibilities here, Jose. We're talking big budget, star-studded ensemble. I'm sniffing Oscar." The producer pauses.

"Of course, we'll have to massage the ending a bit."

"Massage?"

"Subtle alterations. Like I told you before. It's totally standard. This is the movie industry, Jose. We make plot changes in Bible epics. Hell, we changed Harry Potter. So maybe 'Juiced' gets reworked."

"Like what happens?"

"Like you die."

"Wha—?"

"Audiences don't want to see a buff Jose Canseco testifying before the Senate, paying his back taxes, then driving a Ferrari off toward the horizon. It's unsatisfying. And it's completely ridiculous. It doesn't end this way."

"So how does it end?" says Jose, stiffening.

"It's a deathbed tearjerker. Could be tumors. Or liver disease. Maybe kidney problems, pituitary dysfunction, cardiovascular issues. There's a buffet of side effects from which to choose, Jose. We'd like to hear your input. Really. But in the end, you're a shriveled, hairless little wisp of a man. You're penitent. Remorseful. Did I mention hairless?"

"We're still talking about the movie, right?"

"Sure we are, big fella. There's a great film in the story of your life, Jose. But Juiced is just the beginning."

"And I'm still getting that giant pile of cash, yeah?"

"Of course, Jose."

"Then get that Swank chick on the phone. Let's hit the batting cage."

E-mail Andy Behrens at abehrens53 at hotmail dot com.