PEOPLE
VIDEO
BUSINESS
IDENTITY
ASIAMS.NET
ADVERTISING
|
|
|
|
|
PEOPLE
VIDEO
BUSINESS
IDENTITY
ASIAMS.NET
ADVERTISING
|
|
Roy Lee:
|
||||||
|
Roy Lee:
Macari expected to be credited as one of the film's producers but was initially left out of the credits. Lee threatened to distibute unflattering mug shots of Macari being arrested on drunk driving charges unless Macari agreed to give Lee full credit for discovering the movie. Asked about it, Lee laughs. “He got arrested at the police station down the street and they had mug shots,” recalls Lee. “He was drunk at the time. It was very humorous. The joke at the time was that I was going to show them to everyone. But I didn't.” Lee is quick to point out that in the end, both were billed as executive producers. “He got as much credit as me, I think he was more bitter that he didn't get any further projects,” Lee shrugs, as though baffled by Macari's apparent discontent. |
|
|||||
|
Lee and Macari are not “necessarily friends,” but they remain “cordial,” says Lee. Despite this contretemps, Lee speaks of The Ring with deep pride as his greatest success.
Lee's penchant for cold-blooded dealings surfaced while he was attending high school in Maryland. Once a classmate shot him in the ankle with a BB gun. By way of reprisal Lee unscrewed the lugnuts from a front wheel of the classmate's car. The classmate suffered an accident but couldn't come up with enough evidence to have Lee prosecuted. These days Roy Lee is too busy to devote time to seeking revenge on enemies. But he speaks wistfully about hiring a professional heckler to block his enemies' parking spots, make them late to meetings and generally make life difficult for them. Cold-blooded pranks and unflattering sendups of acquaintances notwithstanding (“very fat” he says of Spink), Lee projects such earnestness that it's difficult to disbelieve his account of events. Even when he insists that major studios just wouldn't be interested in projects casting Asian Americans in leading roles, you can't dislike him any more than you can dislike a child with the personal style of an impish mafioso. Still you can't help wondering how a man who speaks no Corean, no Japanese and no Cantonese became the guy trusted to serve as an honest broker by both top Asian directors and major Hollywood studios. Roy Lee was born in 1969 in Brooklyn. His father was a doctor. His mother stayed at home until Roy and his older brother left for college, then became a teacher. Roy's most memorable moments are of trips to the theater with his mother. Movie ratings like PG, and R meant nothing to her, much to the shock of his playmates' parents. “She took my sixth grade friends and I to see The Fog which was an R-rated film,” recalls Lee. “We were all under twelve. A lot of parents were upset with my mother the next day when the kids were afraid to sleep at night.” Roy's mother gave her sons plenty of freedom growing up. But her propensity for hanging popsicle and yarn crucifixes in the family car and fastening tennis ball halves to the bottom of chairs to prevent the scratching of the linoleum were constant sources of embarrassment for Roy. Lee attended George Washington University. While still an undergrad he interned at the D.C. office of the law firm Fried Frank Harris Shriver & Jacobson. He set his sights on becoming a lawyer and decided to lose his group of hard-partying friends. According to his older brother, Roy threw a big Christmas bash. As the party was winding down, Roy told his friends, “I hope you've all had a great time because in the new year I don't want to see any of you again,” PAGE 3 |
| |||||
