the hollywood roosevelt - pitch/treatment

LOGLINE:

Suki Waterhouse and her lover arrange a hookup at The Hollywood Roosevelt, only for their romantic rendezvous to spiral into a madcap dash through an assortment of bars and iconic spaces throughout the hotel. As the sexual tension builds to a climax, the action teeters from extravagant, intimate and bizarre to an epic penthouse party before culminating in a picturesque rooftop finale, against the backdrop of the famous Roosevelt Hotel sign.

INTRO:

As both an artfully directed narrative short and a visually stunning piece of cinematic marketing, this film targets influencers and tastemakers in traditional and social media. There will be no overt marketing angle, aside from setting the story inside the carefully curated world of The Hollywood Roosevelt. In addition to the location, the style, fashion, art direction and casting will all work in tandem to create the distinct tone and brand positioning of the hotel as as a focal point of a new kind of L.A. and its impeccably-styled cultural elite.

With this film, we see ample opportunities for cross-platform marketing, particularly with a star like Suki Waterhouse attached. Because it is influencer-driven, it has a high likelihood of being shared across social media with followers and fans of the talent involved in the project. We also expect to leverage Waterhouse for solid media placement and coverage. In addition, the film can be promoted in conjunction with live events; for example, an event in which “keys” are be mailed to select guests as invitations to attend a party at the hotel that grants exclusive access to all the spaces featured in the film.

At its heart, this film (which shifts between black-and-white and color) is an immersive experience as much as it is a narrative one. The way we see it, there’s no better way to tell the story of The Hollywood Roosevelt than to drop the viewer right in the middle of all the action.

TREATMENT:

The Hollywood Roosevelt: A Short Film

We begin on a female hand holding a piece of paper, which reads simply: THR 20 MIN. SUKI WATERHOUSE gazes out the backseat window of a Tesla, shimmering black on the outside and creamy leather interior. On the seat next to her is a magazine with her face splashed on the cover. It’s late in the day, the dappled light and shadows from passing trees outside flicker across her face. We’re in black and white, with pops of red—from her lipstick and nail polish. Her car arrives at the entrance of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, where a number of other cars are also pulling up. A sharply dressed valet swings her door open. Dressed in a beautiful, flowing white dress, she strides confidently into the hotel.

We’re on one continuous shot, in the vein of Iñárritu’s Birdman. Panning across the lobby, we see that The Hollywood Roosevelt’s clientele is comprised of a discerning mix of models, musicians, hip creatives and influencers. There’s also something distinctly L.A. about this crowd, in style and attitude. Back at the counter, the concierge hands Suki a key card envelope with the name “Ms. Smith” written in neat cursive. The expression on her face is hard to pin down, mysterious and secretive.

Through the lobby, up the elevator, the bellhop shows her to the Marilyn Suite, setting her small bag down by the bed and closing the door behind him. She pushes aside a curtain and steps out onto the balcony, to discover an exclusive pool party underway at The Bungalows and around the Beer Garden. Here, people are elegantly dressed, sipping cocktails, chatting and enjoying themselves. Think: Soho House New York’s Rooftop pool. Very hip and tasteful.

Meanwhile, a helmeted motorcyclist gets off his ’60 cafe racer at a side entrance to the hotel, where a doorman eyes him skeptically. It’s not until he pulls off his helmet, that the doorman’s face lights up as he recognizes him, the FRONTMAN of a huge rock band. The doorman smiles and holds out one arm as if to say, “Right this way.” Hanging his helmet on a handlebar, the frontman enters the kitchen of Public Kitchen & Bar, where line cooks aren’t too busy to greet him and pat him on the back. A man in a suit hands him a key card discreetly, slipping it into his palm as they shake. We get the feeling this has happened before.

We follow him up the stairs. A hotel guest passing by does a double-take; he’s the kind of guy people recognize. When the coast is clear, the frontman enters the Marilyn Suite, which is now empty. He continues out to the balcony and gazes down at the party, where Suki and two beautiful friends—model/actresses—are milling at the edge of the pool in chic poolside attire. As she looks up to see the frontman, Suki accidentally bumps her friend. In a fluster, all three fall into the pool with a splash. Now, we’re underwater with them. From below, we see these three female figures as they circle in an almost synchronized motion, the fabric of their white and red dresses flowing and swaying in the current, the muddled light refracting in the blue water. It’s a gorgeous visual, as we move above and below the water’s bobbing, rippling surface. Finally, Suki manages to climb out of the pool. She looks up again at the balcony of the Marilyn Suite. It’s empty; the frontman’s gone.

Drenched, she wanders into the hotel. Through a wind-swept corridor, she’s miraculously blown dry and emerges inside the Blossom Ballroom, stunning in her white dress. Here, a packed costume party is underway, reminiscent of The Hollywood Roosevelt’s famous Halloween parties. A man approaches, wearing a gold Venetian mask. Suki knows who it is. As they move closer to embrace, a sudden surge in the crowd pulls them apart. Some of the frontman’s male friends spot him and drag him away. Looking for him, Suki wanders down to Beacher’s Madhouse. There, she’s greeted by an over-the-top scene: Oompa Loompas, animal costumes and women dangling on ribbons from the ceiling, like performers in a bawdy Cirque du Soleil. On stage, a gorgeous woman spins seductively on an aerial hoop. The hoop spins faster and faster and becomes...

... a bowling ball rolling down the lane. We’re in the Spare Room, where the frontman is about to bowl. He doesn’t really want to be here, but his friends are insistent. He texts Suki: “Where are you?” Just as he’s about to launch a ball down the lane (framed by the beautiful arch window behind him), he sees her enter. It causes him to fumble, and the ball lands unceremoniously in the gutter. Suki starts over to him, only to be snagged by a group of her friends huddled over a game of Jenga. They’re both stuck, but the frontman’s got a plan. While his friends are preoccupied with a strike someone has scored, he moseys over to the Jenga game and removes a single block, causing the entire tower to collapse. Suki’s friends can’t believe it. The frontman’s already out the door. In the confusion, Suki seizes the moment and rushes away. Outside the Spare Room, the frontman takes her hand and leads her to the elevator. Finally.

As they embrace inside the elevator, a single hand stops the doors from closing. It belongs to a beautiful, slender model. She steps in, and now it’s the three of them, riding up to the penthouse. Inside, as all three stare straight ahead, the frontman slyly moves his hand up Suki’s thigh, bunching up the fabric of her dress, revealing a scandalous amount of leg. She’s turned on, though trying not to show it. We see the model’s eyes as she glances over subtly. The elevator dings their arrival on the top floor.

All three enter the penthouse party in the Gable Lombard Suite. The music is fresh and intoxicating, the entire room pulsating and seething with energy. Diplo’s at the turntables. There are other cameos—musicians, actors, athletes. Cocktails in everyone’s hands. We get the feeling we’re in the inner sanctum, the coolest place to be. In the bed, multiple people are tangled above and below the sheets, in various states of undress. Suki and the frontman are dancing intimately. It’s sultry and sexy, and soon they’re barely dancing—just moving their bodies against each other, lips nearly touching. Holding hands they leave the penthouse and make their way to...

... the Rooftop, lit only by the moonlight and the red glow from the gigantic hotel sign. At last, they’re alone. Embracing and kissing passionately, he glides his hand softly up her legs, lips against her neck, her head tilted in ecstasy. We rotate 360 degrees around the entire rooftop, circling the couple and the iconic ROOSEVELT HOTEL sign.