‘Don't kill the dog': The man who saves Hollywood films from disaster

Telegraph

7 hours ago

The end of Fatal Attraction would have been very different without Kevin Goetz. The original climax to the 1987 thriller had Glenn Close's bunny boiler, Alex, die by suicide after the end of her affair with Dan, played by Michael Douglas. He was blamed for her death, and the last thing viewers saw was his wife, Anne Archer's Beth, rushing to try and clear his name.
Anybody who has watched Fatal Attraction will know that its frenzied ending actually sees Beth kill Alex, in an act of apparently-deserved retribution. It became a box office smash.
Goetz had an unheralded role in making the change and, ultimately, creating one of Hollywood's most famous endings. He was running a focus group watching an early cut of Adrian Lyne's film who did not like the conclusion; one member said they wanted someone to 'kill the b---h'. Goetz reported this to the filmmakers, who shot the alternative ending despite Close's objections (she would later say that it made 'a character I loved into a murdering psychopath'). The final version went down in history.
Over more than three decades, Goetz has made a career of taking the thoughts of 300-or-so ordinary people who have seen a work-in-progress film to advise on how to make films better. 'Part of my job is navigating what I think the audience is trying to say, what they are saying, and distilling that specificity to the film-makers so they actually have something to do in the editing room,' he says. 'You've got a bunch of people using audience feedback to make informed decisions. Not 'I think': who gives a f--- what you think? You care what the audience thinks.'
The founder and chief executive of Screen Engine/ASI has worked on upwards of 5,000 films, from blockbusters such as Titanic, Barbie and F1 to smaller fare, like Jordan Peele's Get Out. The Los Angeles Times once dubbed him the 'doctor of audience-ology' in 2005 and the nickname has stuck.
Most films released in cinemas and on streaming services go through a testing process. A panel of people who might be disposed to like it is recruited – in a similar fashion to those assembled by political opinion pollsters – and their general and specific feedback is sought. The question of whether they would 'definitely' or 'probably' recommend a film to a loved one is key.
Goetz collates this data and helps studios and filmmakers try and interpret it so that they can make the film more appealing. Often that can mean reducing the running time, clarifying confusing elements, removing dud jokes and excising offensive material. Over the years, test screenings helped make Jaws scarier, made Molly Ringwald end up with Andrew McCarthy and not Jon Cryer in Pretty in Pink, and ensured Loki was kept alive at the end of Thor: The Dark World – for which Tom Hiddleston is, presumably, very grateful.
'I could get something, with the help of the audience, from a C or a C-minus to a B-plus or even an A-minus. Can you imagine that? That's huge growth, huge. And it's the difference between, potentially, hundreds of million dollars,' says Goetz. 'Remember, it's not show-art, it is show-business. I truly believe that every movie, made and marketed for the right price, should make money. Now that's a big bold statement, not said lightly. But the problem is most people don't understand what they have at the outset so they pay way too much, budget-wise, for the movie, and as a result of that, they fail.'
Something can be salvaged from even the biggest stinkers. Producers of zombie-flick World War Z 'reshot a third of the movie' after a negative screening, while in 2020's Sonic the Hedgehog 'the whole lead character was recrafted'. Goetz fondly recalls Gore Verbinski's Mousehunt, which he says was 'originally an adult dark comedy that turned into a family movie – and it was a success. There are ways to do it, but it's harder than hell to do it'.
While Goetz says that most filmmakers get on board with the testing process, there are some notable exceptions. Christopher Nolan, for instance, does not subject himself to the views of mere mortals (though those who watched Tenet may wish he did). 'Picasso never audience-tested his paintings,' Ang Lee, the Oscar-winning Life of Pi director, once told Goetz.
'I love Ang Lee. Ang Lee is one of my favourite filmmakers,' Goetz tells me. 'He's an artist, what can I tell you? But guess what? So am I. I would say I am no less of an artist and I contribute no less than…' At this stage he breaks off to point at a large trophy behind him; it is American Cinematheque's 'power of cinema' award, which honours those who have helped advance the relevance of film. 'I got that award in 2023 – it's one of the highest awards in Hollywood, as you know – for my contributions to the motion picture business. I didn't get it because I'm a number cruncher.'
As if to underline the point, he has a publicist send me the seven minute-long video of tributes that was played when he was garlanded with the honour. 'We are absolutely nothing without you and your incredible talent,' beams Charlize Theron. Margot Robbie says: 'You are so good at what you do and it has been such a gift to have your expertise and support on so many of our films… it is truly mindblowing how many films you have had a positive influence on.' Tom Cruise and Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson call him a friend. 'I'm only saying this, not to be self-aggrandising, but so you will understand my relationship with these people,' says Goetz. A fast talker who is liable to go off on tangents, he is clearly not overly burdened by self-doubt.
Much of the 63-year-old's success can be attributed to his bedside manner, which allows him to tell even the haughtiest auteurs things they do not want to hear. He illustrates the issue he often has by asking me to imagine me being the pushy parent of a child.
'Liam, I need to tell you that your seven-year-old daughter, she's just not as attractive as you think she is. She's never gonna make it as a model. I know you want her to be in commercials, but she's a little chunky, she's got crooked teeth, she's got freckles, and it doesn't work,' he says, deadly earnest. 'I have to say those things, and these are their children. These are their babies, right?'
Ultimately, the power of numbers in his focus groups makes most filmmakers listen to him. 'If someone honks at you on the highway, they're an a--hole. But if seven people honk at you, you're the a--hole. At the end of the day, they're saying 'You d––'.'
His constructive attitude, combined with his discretion, makes him a trusted partner for many of the world's biggest stars and explains why so many were queuing up to sing his praises at the American Cinematheque awards. Goetz says that a couple of filmmakers have fallen out with him, but refuses to name names. He is full of praise, however, for Ron Howard ('it doesn't get better than Ron in the screening process. He's a great partner and treats you like one') and Peele ('he's a very hot filmmaker who really respects the process and he's had great success'). He leverages the close relationships he strikes with them into interviews for the podcast he hosts, Don't Kill the Messenger, and he has written a pair of books about the business (2021's Audience-ology and the forthcoming How to Score in Hollywood).
Growing up in Brooklyn, New York, Goetz aspired to act, sing and dance, and was a fixture in TV adverts and stage plays before he got an acting degree from Rutgers University in New Jersey. He also spent a couple of years as a Domino's pizza delivery boy.
He moved to Los Angeles to pursue his acting career and took a part-time job with National Research Group, a consulting outfit. It started out as a 'survival job', where he moderated test screening focus groups, but it gradually became his primary interest. Decades on and he is still as enthused by it as ever.
One iron-clad rule has emerged from years of test screenings that filmmakers would do well to heed at all times: do not mistreat a dog. A scene was added to Back to the Future so that it was clear that Doc Brown's dog, Einstein, did not get hurt when he was sent through time.
'You never want to hurt a dog,' Goetz says. 'Anchorman has a story about the dog that they needed to reshoot to show that the dog was OK, and it helped a lot. In The War of the Roses, one of them was eating and the implication was he barbecued the dog and the audience was… they had to shoot an insert shot of the dog sitting there to show that he was just f---ing with her.'
Needless to say, Goetz is a dog person and lives in Beverly Hills with his husband, Neil, and their labradoodle, Kasha.
In recent years, Hollywood has been accused of playing it safe, with a conveyor belt of sequels, prequels, remakes and reimaginings released, to the detriment of more original ideas. 'There is a tremendous amount of risk aversion. The reason is the stakes are so high,' Goetz says. 'The audiences seem to want the same, but different. They don't want a rehashing, but they want something that feels familiar but is different, like [Ryan Coogler's] Sinners. People have seen vampire stories, but not one like this. And I think then they'll also go to a Jurassic Park.'
But Hollywood needs to remember that the audience is never wrong. 'The audience has final cut. An audience can never be wrong, because it's just an opinion,' he says.
With thousands of screenings under his belt, watching films at various stages in the production process, it would be easy for Goetz to stop enjoying seeing them for fun: who would want a hot dog after spending all day seeing how the sausages are made? But he says he loves sharing films he enjoys with his husband and friends.
There is, however, one part of the cinema world that he cannot bear. 'People often ask if I eat popcorn. And the answer is, no, very rarely,' he says with a smile. 'I smell popcorn every night of my life!'