''I'll bet our catering bill was bigger than their entire budget,'' boasts two-time Olympic runner Pat Porter. ''We had filet mignon. Crab legs. Pheasant with plum sauce. At one meal!''
Porter's passionate discourse on craft services underscores an amazing fact: Nearly 22 years after his death, Steve Prefontaine, the charismatic long-distance runner who dominated his sport in the early '70s, is the subject of an intense Hollywood showdown. On one side is the film in which Porter has a bit part, Warner Bros.' estimated $25 million Pre, starring Billy Crudup (Sleepers) and directed by Robert Towne (Personal Best). Running in the next lane is Disney's Prefontaine, starring Jared Leto (My So-Called Life) and created on an estimated shoestring $8 million budget by Steve James and Peter Gilbert, the pair responsible for the acclaimed basketball documentary Hoop Dreams. And although dueling films are nothing new (can anyone tell the trailers for Volcano and Dante's Peak apart?), what's surprising about the Prefontaine movies is just how bitter the competition has become between the two projects -- not to mention the unlikeliness of their subject. ''We're not talking about two Nixon movies,'' says James, who wrote and directed Disney's film. ''We're talking about a fairly obscure guy who died 20 years ago.''
So how exactly did this obscure guy spark a multimillion-dollar brouhaha that has mixed up everyone from Tom Cruise to shoe giant Nike and divided the loyalties of the normally close-knit track-and-field community?
Back in 1977, SPORTS ILLUSTRATED writer Kenny Moore, a former Olympic runner and a friend of Prefontaine's, was consulting on a TV movie about the late runner's life when he called Towne for some screenwriting advice (a mutual friend put them in touch). At the time, Prefontaine seemed like a natural for a Hollywood adaptation. The Oregon-born runner had broken every American record in events from 2,000 to 10,000 meters, crusaded for the rights of amateur athletes, and was the first sports star to ever officially endorse Nike shoes. He died in a car crash in 1975 at age 24. (At the time of his death, his blood alcohol was well above the legal limit, a fact glossed over by the Disney film because of a deal with the Prefontaine estate.)
Moore's TV project was eventually shelved, but he and Towne continued to discuss a Prefontaine film throughout the years. Then, in 1992, TV producer Jon Lutz moved from L.A. to Eugene, Ore., where Lutz became enthralled with the legend of Eugene's most famous son. ''All the elements were there,'' recalls Lutz. ''The blue-collar kid, the brashness, the big disappointment at the Munich Olympics [where Prefontaine finished fourth], the early death. The story was more interesting than anything we could make up.''
With the help of Geoff Hollister, a former Oregon runner, Lutz bought the rights to the story from the Prefontaine family. The two worked together on a Nike-financed documentary about Prefontaine called Fire on the Track, which aired on CBS in 1995. Lutz then contacted Towne and Moore, who naturally were enthusiastic about the revival of their old idea. Towne in turn talked with his friend Cruise and got him on board as a producer. (For a while Cruise even toyed with the idea of starring in the film but dropped it after realizing he was too old for the part.) But Lutz became convinced that Towne and Cruise were less than enthusiastic about the project. ''If Tom Cruise was so interested,'' asks Lutz, ''why couldn't I get my calls returned?''
You Might Also Like
- Movie News THEY SHOOT, THEY SCORE | Jeff Gordinier
