Playboy Interview: Barry Diller

Let's take Barry Diller, chairman and chief executive officer of Fox Inc.—which includes Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Fox Television Stations Inc. and the Fox Broadcasting Company—out of his fraternally twin kingdoms of Los Angeles and New York. Let's put him in someone else's palace and principality—Caesars, in Las Vegas. Diller is with a friend. They stride through the casino and approach one of the craps tables. The friend is eager to gamble. "Not at this table," Diller growls with the ferociousness of a pit-bull terrier. "This table is pathetic! This table stinks! This table has no heat!" They approach another. "This table has possibilities," Diller decides. "This table has...." But before he can come up with the word, he puts down his money, grabs the dice and quickly quintuples his stake. "There," he announces to the friend and picks up his chips, once again knowing the precise moment to walk away a winner. "Heat."

Another Caesars story:

Diller is sitting in one of the Palace's giant booths with Diana Ross. Later that evening, she is to record a live album in the main room. Diller is bashful; the pit-bull voice is gone and in its place is a charmingly boyish one. "I hope you're going to sing 'Corner of the Sky' from 'Pippin,'" he whispers. "That's my favorite song." Ross sings it.

Which of the two stories is an example of Diller's true nature—the pit bull or the boyish charmer? Ask around. They are equally true, for Diller is not an either/or kind of guy. He's a pit bull, all right, but one you might risk petting.

His poker buddies: Steve Martin, Johnny Carson, Dan Melnick, Neil Simon.

His best-known former lover: designer Diane Von Furstenberg.

"His brain is extraordinarily precise," says Jeff Katzenberg, chairman of Walt Disney Studios. "He is probably the smartest individual I've ever dealt with. He has an uncanny ability to go right to the core of an issue."

Katzenberg got his start in the business when Diller, then chairman and C.E.O. of Paramount Pictures, hired him at the age of 24 to be his assistant. "It was the worst job interview I'd ever given," Katzenberg recalls. "I was totally out of control. Obnoxious. Cocky. I didn't think I could possibly have landed the job. But, on the other hand, maybe being out of control was what made me hit a home run with him. Maybe he saw some of himself in me."

Born in San Francisco in 1942, Diller grew up in Beverly Hills. His father amassed the family's wealth following World War Two by constructing tract houses. After dropping out of UCLA at 19, he asked Danny Thomas, father of his childhood friend Mario, to use his influence with the William Morris Agency to get Diller a job in the mail room. Good at cutting to the core even then, Diller realized that to be successful in the business, he needed a foundation of knowledge—and where better to learn about the intricacies of entertainment than the William Morris mailroom files?

His cars: Corvettes, a Jaguar convertible.

His addresses: Coldwater Canyon, Manhattan, Utah, East Hampton, Malibu.

Backtrack: One night, at a party given by Marlo Thomas, Diller met Leonard Goldberg, then the head of programing for ABC. They began to argue about the business and Goldberg was so impressed with the 23-year-old's outspoken brilliance that he offered him a job as his assistant. (Goldberg now works for Diller as president and C.E.O. of Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.)

At ABC, Diller was given the duties of buying packages of motion pictures from studios, deals that could run to $100,000,000. He quickly rose to vice-president of prime-time programing for ABC Television. He also introduced a form of programing that would forever alter television—the miniseries. He acquired "QB VII," which became the first miniseries on network television, then secured the rights for "Rich Man, Poor Man" and "Roots."

Even more important, however, was Diller's creation of the revolutionary "Movie of the Week," a 90-minute format to be broadcast each week in series form. Not only did he launch the venture, he was also given unprecedented control over the advertising, direction and promotion of the project. The form was so successful that in one year, ABC produced more than 50 original movies made specifically for television. What Diller had succeeded in doing, in fact, was create for himself a ministudio within a TV network.

While he was buying packages from the big studios, he came to the attention of Charles Bluhdorn, the late founder of Gulf + Western, the parent company of Paramount. In 1974, Bluhdorn was looking for a fresh face to run his troubled studio and gambled on the brash, young ABC vice-president. At only 32, Diller became Paramount's chairman and C.E.O.

Diller was the first motion-picture executive to come from the ranks of the TV industry. (His protégé over the years, Michael Eisner, now chairman and chief executive officer of The Walt Disney Company, was the second such executive to make the lateral move when Diller brought him over from ABC to be president of Paramount.) Diller was not exactly welcomed by the moguls, but his success earned their respect. It was during his Paramount tenure that the Diller legend began to take shape. Its first facet is his uncanny ability to "green-light" (approve) films that combine commercial and critical success. A few of his decisions and their world-wide grosses to date: "Airplane!" ($154,000,000); "The Bad News Bears" ($59,000,000); "Beverly Hills Cop" ($286,000,000); "Flashdance" ($176,000,000); "48 HRS." ($78,000,000); "Foul Play" ($85,000,000); "Grease" ($350,000,000); "Heaven Can Wait" ($132,000,000); "Looking for Mr. Goodbar" ($45,000,000); "An Officer and a Gentleman" ($170,000,000); "Ordinary People" ($76,000,000); "Raiders of the Lost Ark" ($340,000,000); "Reds" ($63,000,000); "Saturday Night Fever" ($260,000,000); "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" ($150,000,000); "Terms of Endearment" ($147,000,000); "Trading Places" ($105,000,000); and "Urban Cowboy" ($60,000,000).

Total box-office value of these decisions: almost three billion dollars.

The second facet of the Diller legend concerns his fiery temperament. Many fear him not only for his power but also for the way he wields it. Indeed, it is common to hear him referred to as the meanest son of a bitch in Hollywood.

"I don't know why he has that reputation," says Dawn Steel, who has been called some pretty rough names herself. She worked for Diller as a vice-president in Paramount's merchandising and production departments, later becoming production president, and is now president of Columbia Pictures. "Sure, Barry is tough. Very tough. Sure, he fights for what he believes in. But he is always fair and never loses sight of the big picture. He created the 'advocacy' system within the motion-picture studios. He taught movie executives how to put some passion into their jobs. The business is a better place because of Barry. And movies are better, too."

But back in 1984, Martin Davis, who became chairman of Gulf + Western after Bluhdorn's untimely death, didn't quite agree with Steel's assessment. At the height of Paramount's success, he thought there was a need for change. (Some say Davis was simply agitated that Diller's annual $2,500,000 salary and bonus were higher than his own.) Having appointed Diller president of Gulf + Western's entertainment and communications group, which also included Simon & Schuster and Madison Square Garden, Davis was making his unhappiness known throughout the company. Diller, ever the instinctive gambler, made the first move. He quit his job and accepted an offer from oilman Marvin Davis to take over the chairmanship of his recent purchase, Twentieth Century Fox. It was rumored that the $2,500,000 Paramount compensation was spare change compared with the deal Diller cut for himself at Fox, a deal that included equity in the company. Ultimately, Marvin Davis became disenchanted with the movie business and sold Fox to Rupert Murdoch, the Australian-born media baron.

When Diller arrived on the Fox lot, the company was in disarray, but he has steadily strengthened its many ventures. Third in motion-picture market share in 1988, Fox was labeled by The New York Times "the comeback studio of the year." Two of last year's top–ten films were Fox movies—"Big," with a domestic gross to date of $114,000,000, and "Die Hard," with a gross of $86,000,000. Other hits since Diller came on board include "Broadcast News" ($53,000,000); "Aliens" ($88,000,000); "Predator" ($65,000,000); "Prizzi's Honor" ($28,000,000); and "Wall Street" ($34,000,000). The company's recent hit "Working Girl" has so far grossed $60,000,000 and there are high hopes for this summer's release of "The Abyss."

But it is the fledgling Fox Broadcasting Company that takes up most of Diller's energy. Currently, Fox broadcasts only on Saturday and Sunday nights—Monday-night programing begins September 11—covering 90 percent of the United States with its signal, though many of its stations can be found only on UHF. During its first full year of operation, the company lost $94,000,000.

But, as Diller told Fox's affiliates' meeting back in January of this year, the company pulled in a profit of $400,000 for the six-month period that had at that point just ended. Some of its shows—"Married... with Children," "America's Most Wanted," "The Reporters," "The Tracey Ullman Show," "It's Garry Shandling's Show" and "21 Jump Street"—though at the bottom of the national ratings, are at least breaking into the Nielsens with double-digit numbers. The Fox network, at first ridiculed for its audacity in going up against giants ABC, NBC and CBS, seems to have turned the corner. Once again, Diller has confounded the "experts."

Private corporate fetish: discarded rubber bands.

Private corporate jet: Gulfstream G-II.

Playboy sent New York writer Kevin Sessums, who is also the executive editor of Interview magazine, to California to confront Diller in his lair. Sessums' report:

"The first thing you discover about Diller is that, although he has a highly evolved intellect, he also has a primal instinct for human fear. If he senses for but an instant that you are intimidated by him—and just about everyone I spoke to off the record is—he'll eat you for lunch. Diller respects strength; that's his bottom line. Our interview is an example of what it's like to have a meeting with him—the verbal sparring that takes place, the in-the-gut glee of battle.

"At one point, he came to New York on a business trip. We had dinner and I tried to persuade him to tell me some showbiz war stories. Famous for being press-shy, he was already having second thoughts about this interview and was trying to persuade me to drop the whole thing.

"He was quite agitated. 'Why should I help you if I don't want the thing to run?'

"'Because it will be more of a portrait,' I said. 'Like switching to oils.'

"'Well, you've got a great Polaroid, as it is,' he parried. 'Polaroids are more revealing in their way. More, candid.'

"'That's a great hook,' I fought back, calling his bluff. 'May I use that in my intro?'

"'Sure. That's what I do for a living,' he said, grinning. 'I take other people's ideas and make them better.'

"The rest of our conversations took place during Christmas week in Los Angeles. Toward the end of my stay, I accompanied Diller to a couple of quintessential Hollywood parties. One was a Christmas party thrown by his good friend Sandy Gallin. Gallin, a Hollywood manager and producer, has become famous for his extravagant parties. That night was no exception. Man-made snow had been pumped onto his L.A. lawn. Dolly Parton greeted us at the door. In the entrance hall, a robed choir was stationed up the two staircases to serenade the guests with carols. Everyone was there: Sylvester Stallone, Barbra Streisand, Shirley MacLaine, Patrick Swayze, Pee-wee Herman, Jane Fonda, Bob Dylan, Madonna.

"One incident illustrated Diller's power. Farrah Fawcett, there with Ryan O'Neal, bumped into Diller in a doorway. 'Barry!' she exclaimed in her best holiday voice and kissed him on both cheeks. 'Happy birthday! I mean...' she stammered, 'merry Christmas!' We all laughed, but Farrah's switching of birthdays was a fair summation of the man's position in that town. He may not be God in Hollywood, but he sure as hell is God's Jewish son."

[Q] Playboy: On the drive over to your studio office, we found the Los Angeles streets full of motorcyclists. It seems to be the trend here. Don't you own a motorcycle?

[A] Diller: Yeah. Lots. Well, not lots. Five or six.

[Q] Playboy: Which is it?

[A] Diller: What do you mean, "Which is it?" Specifically? Exactly?

[Q] Playboy: Do you have five motorcycles or six motorcycles? Or do you have so many you can't remember?

[A] Diller:[Laughs] This isn't an insight into anything; I just can't remember. I have to count them up. They're not all in Los Angeles. Some are in East Hampton. I'm hardly your image of "the biker." I just started riding for the hell of it.

[Q] Playboy: No one would mistake you for a biker, but you do have the reputation for being a mean son of a bitch.

[A] Diller: I know I have that reputation, but I don't cultivate it. As a matter of fact, I'm surprised at it. Yet it's clear that that's what people think. I am difficult—that's true. But I think difficult is good, especially if you're dealing with the "creative process," in which you have to make editorial choices. Editorial choices should be toughly made. That's probably the first reason I've got that reputation.

Second, I think most business things are often adversarial—one side against the other. Give-and-take. To sell and to buy. All forms of commerce are adversarial. And in order for you to prevail with what you think is right, there is a psychological imperative that says, "I won't do anything other than what I want." That helps you get the things you want the way you want them. And, in the end, that comes out tough. It is tough, I guess. You just always try to prevail within your own boundaries.

Then other issues come up: Do you deal fairly? Do you deal straight? You must have standards. Listen, the only thing I care a lot about is this: All you really have to contribute is what you think. That's all you have to contribute to any process. I respect people who approach problems in that way. There is not rightness involved, only being true to oneself.

[Q] Playboy: Hollywood is full of Barry Diller stories. Two of them show opposite sides of you. Will you tell us if they're true or false?

[A] Diller: Go ahead.

[Q] Playboy: The first one is that you were sitting in your office right after arriving at Fox and a producer walked by outside your window. You were having a meeting with some top executives. When you saw this producer, you started screaming, "I thought I told you guys I wanted that bastard off the lot! I want him thrown off now! Why is he still here? I don't want to see his face again!" At that point, one of your executives told you that the guy's latest movie was about to be released by Fox—and that he possibly had terminal cancer. The executive said, "Let his movie open and then we'll change the locks on his office door." At that point, you screamed, "I said I want him off the lot and I want him off the lot now!"

[A] Diller:[Laughs] That's absurd!

[Q] Playboy: But it's a typical Barry Diller story. Did it happen?

[A] Diller: Of course it didn't happen. I mean, if I'd really said, "I want him off the lot!" in a strong, noisy voice, with which I do a lot of things—I'm not here to defend it—don't you think the people in the room would have had the obligation to come over to my big white desk and turn it over on me?

[Q] Playboy: People don't always meet their moral obligations—especially when you've succeeded in intimidating them.

[A] Diller: But that's the kind of monsterism that should be met by an action like turning over a desk. If it weren't, then even I would be offended.

[Q] Playboy: The other story is the flip side. When you were running Paramount, a publicist in New York was dying of AIDS. He was very sick, in what turned out to be the last week of his life. You supposedly offered the company plane to fly his body home.

[A] Diller: I wish that were true, as an antidote to the earlier story. But it isn't. Although I did call up and ask what we could do, I didn't go quite so far as that. You know what the probable truth is? That both of those stories are true up to the point that they get interesting. You know what I find odd? The stuff that I find the most interesting—I mean the really interesting, complicated stuff—never becomes a story.

[Q] Playboy: What do you consider the interesting stuff?

[A] Diller: Oh, please. Do you think this is the forum I'd use for that? It's just stuff that involves lots of texture and lots of emotion and lots of stuff. Come on, leave me alone.

[Q] Playboy: OK. What is it like to get your ass kissed all day long?

[A] Diller: It's been true for so many years, it really doesn't affect me. I've had positions of influence since I was twenty-three, when I was assistant to the head of programing at ABC. I'm pretty inured to the ass-kissing process. That said, at times, I'm probably blind to it, also. But my history is that I've always wanted—and I've always had—strong people around me. Any time I've had anything but that, it's usually been a nightmare.

[Q] Playboy: Do you ever have to kiss Rupert Murdoch's ass? [Murdoch owns Fox.]

[A] Diller: The term kissing ass is not sophisticated enough, because you're dealing insophisticated leagues. The only issue really is, do you use your charm to persuade people to do things? I suspect that anybody in any kind of structure does that.

If you're going to deal in the world of ideas, you have to be, to some extent, a salesman. And you're going to either sink or rise according to your ability to be a good salesman of ideas. The only thing that is important is, do you say what you believe? And do you try to use whatever you can to get people to do what you say? So what I'm interested in, again, is, what do people think? I'm interested in noisy exchange and conflict over that. It helps everybody, that process.

You learn things if you are able to listen. In my career, when I was in the position of working for people, I always did that. Always. I had a very "noisy" relationship with Charles Bluhdorn [the late founder and head of Gulf + Western, which owns Paramount Pictures]. I think there was great affection between us, which anybody could see. But that's one of the places I learned you'd better be up for the fight.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Diller: Charlie was a genius. He's probably the only person I could ever call that. His was a brain you just couldn't understand—at least I couldn't understand it. It had extra senses. Of course, Charlie was also crazy, in his way. And he was a romantic. I don't think the world has seen too many romantics who were businessmen. The energy you had to have just to function with him was immense. But more than anything, he and I had fun. At times, it was enraging, but fun. Battle as fun!

You know what the truth is, though? Nobody really knows. We start with that. I've always dealt from that point of view: No one really knows. None of the research people—who are really nothing but witch doctors—know. "The combined knowledge." "The morning line." Nobody knows. It's really all just opinions argued forcibly. That's all. Opinions are facts to me. Does all this sound bird-brainy?

[Q] Playboy: No. But let's talk about how you got to be a movie mogul. You were a Beverly Hills brat, weren't you?

[A] Diller: I don't know if I'd put it quite that way, but, yes, I grew up in a community that, oddly enough, was very small-town. Beverly Hills was the essence of a small town. It had a population of around thirty thousand, but its borders were rather confining. It was oddly rurallike—not in terms of what the eye could see but in terms of the sensibility. You knew everybody and everybody knew you. This was back in the late Forties, early Fifties, when there was no Rodeo Drive, no silly commercial thing for tourists to visit. There were barely even any cars.

[Q] Playboy: You were an only child?

[A] Diller: I had an older brother who died.

[Q] Playboy: Your father was a wealthy builder. Was he upset with you later on, when you dropped out of UCLA?

[A] Diller: I didn't really drop out. In a way, I never went. The little time I did go, I wasn't there, anyway; I sort of slid away.

[Q] Playboy: Why? Did you hate school?

[A] Diller: Yeah. Always. Because it was boring. And because anything I ever learned, I learned because I was curious, not because someone asked me to learn something. When anyone did, I would resent it and rebel against it. I never was interested in the direct approach. But I read an immense amount of stuff for a little person.

[Q] Playboy: So you skipped college and went to work for the William Morris Agency.

[A] Diller: Yeah. I was nineteen years old and I thought that was a great place to go and learn about the business. I was the only person who wanted to stay in the mail room, since I really didn't want to become an agent. I was the only one who kept saying, "You mean I have to go be an agent now? I just want to stay here and read all this stuff." I wanted to learn everything that was going on. I'd take these huge stacks of files and read every detail in them. I mean, you go to college to read; that's what I was doing at William Morris. I read their entire file room. It took me three years, but I did it.

[Q] Playboy: Did you ever sneak anything home for night reading?

[A] Diller: I did have a terrible early experience. I was very naïve. Somebody had stolen documents from William Morris and was leaking them to the press. The place was turned into a police state. I was called in to take a lie-detector test. First they asked me if I'd ever taken anything home and I said yes. They almost fired me right there. But that got the lie-detector guy going and he started asking me more questions—and the machine said I was lying about them. How do you protest to a machine when you are the only source on whether you are telling the truth or not? What do you do? It was tyranny! [William Morris would not confirm this account.]

[Q] Playboy: Sounds like a Fox television show.

[A] Diller: What's that supposed to mean?

[Q] Playboy: As in America's Most Wanted.

[A] Diller: [Laughs] You have nothing to fear from that show if you're innocent—only if you're guilty. Anyway, it turned out that the thief was a disgruntled press agent.

[Q] Playboy: Did you read the William Morris files alphabetically or did you go right to certain people's files?

[A] Diller: I was selective. I do remember it took me about a week and a half to read Elvis Presley's file. I wasn't overly interested in artist representation; I was interested in the process of what Elvis was doing. I enjoyed dissecting it—why was he doing this and what was the reason for that? I was like a huge sponge. The files for Elvis were about six feet high. It was fascinating. They contained his life. I learned about everything from those files at William Morris. I learned about people and personal relationships from them.

[Q] Playboy: That sounds scary.

[A] Diller: You know what I mean: I learned about those things in a business sense. I knew more about William Morris than anybody who worked there, including the people who ran the company. But I didn't learn how to be an agent—I completely missed that. What I did learn was the structure of that company, and how companies work, which fascinated me.

[Q] Playboy: Had you always wanted to be in the entertainment business?

[A] Diller: Kind of always—yeah. I mean, I didn't have any epiphanies at ten, if that's what you mean.

[Q] Playboy: In school, were you more popular with the teachers or with other kids?

[A] Diller: What is this all about? Are you trying to figure out my life? Are you doing some psychological inspection?

[Q] Playboy: Sure. With your cooperation.

[A] Diller: I would say I was not a hit with my teachers, because I wasn't overly interested in what they were doing.

[Q] Playboy: Were you a loner in school?

[A] Diller: Not at all. But I wouldn't say I was popular, either—popular is not the right word—I was compelling. People noticed me. That all sounds horrible, doesn't it?

[Q] Playboy: Did you boss other kids around on the playground?

[A] Diller: No, of course not. Please. You're just trying to fit me into the little executive a-growin'.

[Q] Playboy: We were just wondering if you might fit the profile of the school nerd who becomes a success in business and spends his life confusing tough with mean.

[A] Diller: Meaning what?

[Q] Playboy: That perhaps really tough men don't compromise, which is the soul of business. Truly tough men can be found painting in a garret in Paris or working on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. They aren't behind a desk negotiating and compromising all day. Or so goes the theory.

[A] Diller: Are you asking me if I agree with that theory? No, I don't. I don't thinkit's as simple as compensating for early nerdiness. These things may or may not have anything to do with compensating. There are too many gradations.

[Q] Playboy: Tell us about your early days at Paramount.

[A] Diller: Paramount was a big part of my life and it meant a lot to me in a lot of ways. I think about it only romantically. I see it only as ... well, as something sweet. I never think about the struggle. And God knows there was struggle. But we were all young and it was our first time in the movie business. We were the television generation. I was the very first television person to go into the movie business. I was treated poorly. I was treated as less than scum. I remember being hurt a lot.

[Q] Playboy: Did you get even later, when you were in power?

[A] Diller: No, that I don't do, thank God. I've never been able to seek revenge. I have no list. There is no room for vindictiveness in the process. That's neither good nor bad; that's just the way I operate.

[Q] Playboy: You went from Paramount to Twentieth Century Fox, which was in deep trouble. What did you think when you got to Fox?

[A] Diller: I felt horrible. I felt as if somehow, in my forties, I had gotten off a round earth and happened upon a flat earth. I was stepping off the end of it. I thought, I am now in this company that does not in any way work. I was incredibly frustrated.

[Q] Playboy: Were you afraid you might not be able to pull it off?

[A] Diller: I was never afraid of any of that stuff. I never saw business situations as fearful. That goes back even to ABC, when I started movies for television, which everybody said would fail.

[Q] Playboy: At ABC and Paramount, you hired and became the mentor of two men who went on to make Disney such a success—Michael Eisner and Jeff Katzenberg. Why did you hire them?

[A] Diller: Because I liked them both. Honestly, it's all instinct. What connects. What appeals to you. You have to feel something going on between you and somebody else in a room; if you feel it, then you have to follow it. I don't respond to people simply because they agree with me. Never. I respond to people who have something interesting to offer. Or are fun. Or ... I don't know—you know something? I really don't know anything about anything. Shut that tape recorder off. This is all babble. It's pure pretentiousness.

[Q] Playboy: It's not babble. You're a successful businessman in a glamorous business. People are interested in what you have to say.

[A] Diller: My problem is that I have no powers of self-observation.

[Q] Playboy: But your outlook is less corporate than that of most businessmen. You socialize with the creative side of your business; you don't hang out with other "suits." Do you ever feel like a spy, working the other side of that desk? A kind of double agent?

[A] Diller: [Laughs] I told you I didn't even want to be an agent—now you're making me a double agent. Maybe I could get a job at the C.A.A. [Creative Artists Agency]. And triumph! I really don't think about these things, but you're pushing me to it. Let's see: What I really do for a living is, I come into this office, I make a lot of noise, then I go home. But I have never been interested exclusively in one thing.

Let's get down to basics. The truth of all truths in this business is: What is The Product? What is The Program? What is The Idea? That's it. If you ever lose that or stray too far away, if you're in some back room somewhere, flipping papers around and making deals and doing grand strategy for the Twenty-first Century and you lose "What is The Program?" from your prime sensibility, you fail. That's it: You fail. So, to me, that pushes you in a certain direction.

I don't think I'm an irresponsible executive. I'm better at some things than at others. There was a period when I really liked negotiating. It was fun for me. It was fun to figure it out. It was fun to win at it. It has not interested me in some time. I just evolved out of it.

[Q] Playboy: What holds your interest now? What are the challenges?

[A] Diller: Fox Broadcasting. [Points to the color chart of all the weekly network-TV shows by time slots] It's funny. I look at the board even while I talk to people about the weather. I'm always looking at it. Often, I sit here in this room with people, having some meeting, and I catch myself studying that board. I'm running on a parallel track. It keeps drawing me back.

[Q] Playboy: You seem like the kind of businessman who would prefer creating a network to running one.

[A] Diller: "That has always been true with me. What has always interested me is building something. Once it gets built, I am less interested in it.

[Q] Playboy: Pardon the psychology, but you sound like you could be your father.

[A] Diller: How?

[Q] Playboy: All this emphasis on building.

[A] Diller: Yeah, well. Building tract houses is not poor-mouth work. But I kept wondering as a kid how people could live in those houses. They all looked the same. How did you know which one you lived in? I wouldn't know where to take my bicycle. But I'm not poor-mouthing it. All I'm saying is building something is interesting.

[Q] Playboy: When do you expect the Fox network to start turning a profit?

[A] Diller: We plan to break even within the next six months.

[Q] Playboy: But can you have number-one shows with the kind of stations affiliated with Fox—smaller stations, UHF stations?

[A] Diller: If you had checked with Leonard Goldensen, the TV pioneer who started ABC from the floor up, and he had told you the stations ABC had at the time they started, you wouldn't have given him a chance, either. They had thirty-five stations, I believe. Of course, they had a clear, strong signal.

But what happens is that your programs and your efforts mature those stations that carry your product. We see it. During the first period of the Fox Broadcasting Company, we'd take an action and there'd be no reaction. We'd say, "What happened? We put the show on the air. We spent millions of dollars promoting it. And nobody watched." We couldn't figure it out. Then, suddenly, this past summer, we started doing promotions for particular shows and we'd see a blip—it was like watching a baby—we'd see a little reaction. Two weeks later, you'd see even more of a reaction. So what happened was that while we thought nobody was watching, we were really laying the groundwork for this thing called Fox. It took that much time before people began to say, "Oh, yeah, Fox. I see. If I hear that idea, I must get it there."

This maturing process is very satisfying. When we started, if you had asked anybody in America who was educated about television if it were possible for us to get double digits in the national ratings, they'd say, "No. It's impossible." Well, we've done that a few weeks in a row. [NBC's programing chief] Brandon Tartikoff ridiculed our signal by saying it had the power of a coat hanger. Well, we've proved we are capable.

So the answer to your question is, sure, it's possible to have number-one shows. In a year or two, these stations will be able to get ratings in the twenties—when they deserve it. And they'll deserve it when we put shows on the air that people want to see. We cover ninety percent of the United States. The question is, do we cover that area with depth and clarity? Now, in some places, it may be difficult to get the signal—you may have to go to channel thirty-one or twenty-eight or thirty-seven. But with the advent of cable, it's getting easier.

[Q] Playboy: What image do you want the Fox network to have?

[A] Diller: Probably as an alternative to the networks instead of just an alternative. That's a piece of it. These things are made up of little pieces, and until you have enough of the pieces that your personality begins to be reflected, then it's sort of foolish to try to pigeonhole things. I don't really do this very well. I didn't do it very well at Paramount.

But there's no question that after ten years at Paramount, there was definitely a certain personality to Paramount movies. As time goes by, you can look back on it with an even clearer vision. Back then, all those Paramount movies seemed pretty eclectic while I was dealing with them, but now I can see them as a whole. It will be true of this endeavor at some point, also. But if you asked me right now, "What is it?"—well, to use adjectives to describe it would sound as silly as the sound of my voice does to me right now.

[Q] Playboy: Some critics would say that Fox is responsible for the rash of lowest-common-denominator shows on television now.

[A] Diller: Wait a minute. What you're doing is the crime of the media. You have a little thesis and then you mightily shoehorn the facts into it so that they will fit. Look at the shows you're excluding—Tracey Ullman, Garry Shandling, Duet, Beyond Tomorrow.

[Q] Playboy: But those shows are not as successful as your "blue-collar" ones, for lack of a better term. A Current Affair, Married...with Children, America's Most Wanted, 21 Jump Street, The Reporters.

[A] Diller:A Current Affair is not a Fox Broadcasting Company show—it's Fox Television Stations', a syndicated show.

[Q] Playboy: Joan Rivers is starting a new talk show that your old studio, Paramount, is going to syndicate. That's ironic, considering what happened to her at the Fox network. Why couldn't you come up with a show to fill that late-night slot?

[A] Diller: We had one idea, which was Joan Rivers. It was a good idea. It succeeded for a while, then it eroded and failed. We had no other idea. You can't audition on television. It doesn't work.

[Q] Playboy: Arsenio Hall seemed to be working, but you pulled him off the air for The Wilton North Report. Now he, too, has his own show that Paramount is producing and syndicating.

[A] Diller: Arsenio was fun. We got very lucky. That was rare luck. We would have kept him. In fact, we wanted to keep him, but unfortunately, we had the Wilton North train arriving in the station. We had no choice. We had to get the Arsenio train out of the way. The Wilton North train that arrived was a disaster. But, you know, I'm very proud of my failures. I'm perverse that way. You're so interested in peeling off these personal things—there's a good example of my ego coming out. I'm not shy about admitting my mistakes or failures.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think Fox treated Joan Rivers shabbily?

[A] Diller: No, I don't think we treated her shabbily at all. I watched an interview with her the other day and I thought that she was so vulnerable and sympathetic. Now, the person I went through a process with was not particularly vulnerable or sympathetic, but that may have just been because of the circumstances. What happened is that it didn't work out. What do you do when something doesn't work out? We didn't act mean or rude or any other adverse way. At a certain point, we ended it, which was our responsibility.

[Q] Playboy: You also run Twentieth Century Fox Films, a company that produces not only movies but also television shows. How do you decide which Twentieth Century Fox pilot is sold to the three other networks and which is sold to the Fox network?

[A] Diller: We've kept some walls up in the company, because we think it is the right way to do it. I guess it sounds strange; you want to say, "Oh, come on." But if you asked people in the company, they would tell you that it is true. Fox Films has the integrity of its own operation. Sometimes, pilots will come to the Fox network, but the Fox Film Corporation believes that their charter is to first go to the three other networks; if there is anything left over, they will then come to Fox and other entities. They're straight about it. I respect that and keep that wall as high as necessary. There are program departments all over this company. The thing is to keep them separated so they can generate what they believe in. We have an arm of this company that produces shows for one network and another arm that produces a show that may be in competition. But that's just a healthy, sensible way to run the kind of business that I'm in.

[Q] Playboy: What makes a great movie? What makes you choose one script over another?

[A] Diller: There's only one thing: Does it interest you? Period.

[Q] Playboy: You don't look at a script and say, "I don't get this, but audiences will love it"?

[A] Diller: I do not know what that means. When people use the word commercial, I want to take out a BB gun and wound them. Not kill them; wound them. It's such an awful word. There's only one thing you know: what you like. That's all you know. That sounds simple, but so many times, people stray from that. Your instincts are educated by who you are. But the one thing you absolutely cannot do is say, "I don't have any idea what this is about, but they'll like it," and then define "them": "Kids'll like it." "Black people in ghettos will like it." "White Protestants in Kansas will like it." You can't do that. All you can say is, "I like it." "I hate it." "I love it." If you can keep it clean—and it's very tough to keep that instinct clean, without much adornment—if you do that, you'll probably tend to do OK. It's a very broad avenue, this thing thought of as Main Street. Now, if you are interested only in esoteric things—in breaking the fourth wall or something—it's pretty silly for you to labor away in mass media.

[Q] Playboy: You never order your production department to bring you scripts that can fit into conceptual categories?

[A] Diller: No.

[Q] Playboy: Your movie line-up for 1989 at Fox is all over the map—there is no one driving sensibility.

[A] Diller: But that's good moviemaking!

[Q] Playboy: Then your personal tastes are all over the map.

[A] Diller: Yes! The thing that always drove me crazy at Paramount was the way I was positioned as the executive who made the serious films— Reds, Ordinary People, Terms of Endearment. How did that happen to me? What happened to Saturday Night Fever? And Foul Play? And Heaven Can Wait?

[Q] Playboy: Your first two movies at Paramount were Bad News Bears and Looking for Mr. Goodbar. That seems like a summation of Barry Diller.

[A] Diller: How interesting. Explain yourself.

[Q] Playboy: They are two opposite films. One is about innocence and competition and winning. The other is about power and sex. One is light; one is dark.

[A] Diller: What are you saying? That I'm a schizophrenic?

[Q] Playboy: No. You can have those two sides to your personality and be healthy—if you admit to them.

[A] Diller: Look at what you're doing. Look at the positioning that you're doing with me—"If you can admit to them."

[Q] Playboy: You're the one who said you were schizophrenic. Just trying to help.

[A] Diller: Believe me, if you think the words "I am schizophrenic" have come out of my mouth, then you—

[Q] Playboy: Are going to have a lawsuit?

[A] Diller:[Laughs] No, you're just not going to be able to walk.

[Q] Playboy: Then you'll have a lawsuit.

[A] Diller: I'll defend it. I'm not worried.

[Q] Playboy: Why would those two films attract your attention?

[A] Diller: I read a script of Bad News Bears and I simply loved it and we bought it within an hour. I remember, because we took it away from somebody else. It cost thirty thousand dollars. I was thrilled. Then we set out to make the movie. It was my first movie lesson, because we made that movie. We then took it to preview and the audience liked it, but they didn't love it. Then we opened the movie and nobody went. I was crushed. I was not feeling well. I kept thinking it could not be—the movie was terrific. All the experts kept saying to me that once a movie opens and dies, you cannot resurrect it. I'll have to admit that's almost true. But we succeeded in bringing it back from the dead. We started by taking out a double-page spread in The New York Times. I remember Charlie Bluhdorn saying to me, "This movie has failed; how dare you spend this money to take out this ad?" He went on and on. But it cooked. It became a big, juicy early hit for me.

As for Goodbar, I hadn't even read a script—just the book. I didn't like the book—but I thought the story was great. It was one I hadn't heard before. I'm always up for something that's fresh and interesting. And Looking for Mr. Goodbar was a hot idea for a movie. It was made into a devastating movie by Richard Brooks. I'm not so sure that the movie I initially envisioned is the movie we got—but there it is.

[Q] Playboy: The story of British director David Puttnam is well known—how he came to town as the new head of Columbia, claiming he would revolutionize Hollywood by defying the packaging of movies by agents, slashing star salaries, making films at lower costs, etc., until he was dismissed. Isn't that some of what you did at Paramount?

[A] Diller: I had problems with ... [laughs] I was going to say" the Puttnam years, but maybe I should say the Puttnam months. That was a blowhard and a media manipulator at work. Puttnam has been doing it—attempting to manipulate the media—for years. My first experience with him was when we were making Reds at Paramount. We cared a lot about that movie. It was a very difficult movie to make, very controversial in a lot of ways. Here was Gulf + Western, this big bastion of capitalism led by Bluhdorn, and we were making this romantic movie about communism.

The plans for the movie were rough; it was unprepared, I admit it. It was rushed into production because the elements demanded it. That was the nature of the beast at the moment and it caused the picture to go way over its budget. But the budget wasn't real, because you can't budget a movie that's unprepared. That happens from time to time if you push the production of a movie. It was very hard. Warren Beatty is a good friend of mine, and even we had a lot of difficulties with each other. There was a lot of conflict.

[Q] Playboy: Would you have made Reds if Warren had not been your friend? Did friendship get in the way of your business acumen?

[A] Diller: The question makes no sense. It would not have been a film without Warren. The two things are not exclusive, but it was a highly charged situation. I'm not excusing anybody's behavior, mine included. However, we covered the movie financially. Paramount was assured of not losing any money on the deal. I pride myself in that. But emotionally, Reds was a very difficult time for everyone.

Now, I'm giving you all this boring background against the following: One day, during the worst part of the process, a story appeared in the press from this person, David Puttnam, decrying big-budget Hollywood moviemaking as exemplified by the excesses of Reds. He even gave specific examples concerning our movie. While here he was, making Chariots of Fire, this wonderful little movie, for spit and polish. He made himself out to be the nice, honorable person compared with the Hollywood bad guys. It was a body blow to us.

None of us could figure it out. I kept wondering why this person would attack another movie. Why would he do this? I just couldn't figure it out. Then I realized what he was doing. He had started his campaign early to win the Academy Award by putting our movie in a certain classification. That was brilliant. Everybody always says that Warren and I are so sophisticated about the business, but this train went right by us without our even seeing it. Then it was too late. But I thought, What a horrible thing to do. Honestly, what a rotten thing to do.

[Q] Playboy: Will Fox release Puttnam's next movie?

[A] Diller:[Laughs] Not likely. I think Puttnam has certainly made some movies that I've liked, but here is a person who came to town and made all of this noise. By the way, he had a unilateral right to spend a great deal of money, and he spent it. He was destructive to an awful lot of people who are decent and act honorably. When you asked me what I had done at Paramount, it did occur to me that we accomplished there what he was so busy talking about. And why, if you weren't inherently fraudulent, would you talk about what you wanted to accomplish instead of accomplishing it?

[Q] Playboy: You talk more about the exercise of power than the making of movies. Is power very important to you?

[A] Diller: It's impossible for me to say, for a simple reason: I have had access to power for a very long time. I have asked myself how uncomfortable I would be without it. I can honestly say I don't know. It has surely ceased to matter to me. It is complicated. I have never particularly seen my actions from outside myself. I've never had a very complete sense of being powerful. I know that sounds odd, but I've never had a sense of acting with power. I've never stood outside myself and said, "Oh, my God! Look at what I can do!" I've never done it. And I've always felt good about that.

[Q] Playboy: In a free-enterprise system, you are almost a titled person—chairman and chief executive officer. It's like being royalty in a European country, except that you have even more power—you can act as king and queen.

[A] Diller: I've got my eyes pressed against the glass panes just like everybody else: Things are only important or interesting depending on your vantage point. I've never had this conversation with anybody else who has had access to power, but the truth is that I've never looked at it from the point of view of someone looking in at it. I just don't know what that's supposed to feel like. I'm sure it's supposed to feel like something, because I have the feeling about other things with other people. But I don't have it about myself or my daily life. It doesn't mean I'm not proud of my "tiering" in this world.

[Q] Playboy: Or your list of accomplishments.

[A] Diller: That's separate. That I'm very proud of.

[Q] Playboy: Which accomplishments are you most proud of?

[A] Diller: Oh, I don't know. I don't know. When I think of them, I'll write them down ... like dreams.

[Q] Playboy: Do you get any kind of sexual feeling from power?

[A] Diller: No.

[Q] Playboy: What do you seek in another person—or do you find all your satisfactions in your job?

[A] Diller: Are we sliding into a morass here, a ... I don't know, the words escape me. I get too shy about it.

[Q] Playboy: About your personal life?

[A] Diller: Yes.

[Q] Playboy: Give it a try.

[A] Diller: I'm very eclectic. About everything. I have nothing very profound or interesting to say about this. If we weren't sitting here doing this interview and you said, "Now, concentrate. What is it that attracts you to another person?" I still don't know if I could do it.

[Q] Playboy: What has been the common characteristic?

[A] Diller: There isn't one! Line them up. You can't find it, I don't think.

[Q] Playboy: Have you ever lined them up?

[A] Diller:[Laughs] Yes, I have. It's an interesting picture.

[Q] Playboy: Is there a common characteristic?

[A] Diller: You really want to know, don't you? You're not letting me off the hook. Let's see. I guess, in the end—I do mean in the very, very end—they are all genuinely nice people. I do think that actually does distinguish them from other line-ups of other people. Let's skip all of this.

[Q] Playboy: Why don't you just let go and open up?

[A] Diller: Why should I?

[Q] Playboy: It might be good for this interview; it might be good for your life.

[A] Diller: Let's concentrate on the second part. Explain to me why it would be good for my life.

[Q] Playboy: You are a corporate officer and all that that entails. You have to keep a lot of boundaries—a word you use—in your life.

[A] Diller: I know what my boundaries are. What's wrong with that? I do think that is what interests a person in other people—what are the boundaries.

[Q] Playboy: Aren't people who live inside boundaries afraid of loss? What—besides your temper—are you afraid of losing?

[A] Diller: I can't talk about it psychologically and make any sense about it. But I do know this: I feel strongly about privacy. Now, it's fair to ask me where this came from. But there is no question about it—anybody who knows me, any of my friends, anybody who is aware enough and is in the concentric circles of my life knows I care a lot about privacy. Privateness. I think acting with privacy is admirable. I respect privacy in other people and I expect them to respect it in me. That sounds really bird-brainy, but I believe it.

[Q] Playboy: As you evolve as a person, do some things that were once private in your life become public?

[A] Diller: No, your sense of privacy remains the same. Embarrassments may change. Shynesses may change. One may become more outgoing. But the basic sense does not change.

[Q] Playboy: Should someone like Gary Hart have been given his privacy?

[A] Diller: That is yet another issue. You're going from what I personally feel to a question of media. We could wear out sixty-two tapes on how I feel about the media. Briefly, I think that Gary Hart tortured privacy. If you want to have a private affair, you can have one, even if you're the President of the United States. But there are boundaries and rules and promises you have to keep.

[Q] Playboy: When you look back at the moguls who started this town—Adolph Zukor, Louis B. Mayer, Sam Goldwyn, the Warners—with whom do you identify?

[A] Diller: I wouldn't think any of them. They really built the movie business; it would be silly to put myself in the same category. Plus, they came out of such a different culture. Have you read this book by Neal Gabler, An Empire of Their Own? It's really interesting. Very anti-Semitic, I suspect.

[Q] Playboy: No, just the opposite. Gabler makes the point that the Jewish men who started the studios were themselves anti-Semitic in their actions. They had a chance to present a humanist view to the public but, instead, codified a Christian one.

[A] Diller: That's so untrue. What they did was give an emotional base to Christianity. It is terribly sad, in a strange way, and I probably can't say it right, but what those men did was interpret out of their own emotions these respectable and responsible emotional issues; they put them in a kind of American order. But all immigrants do that. It's just more enhanced if you're Jewish—there's more Sturm and Drang. I mean, talk to immigrants. Gabler's is a convenient theory. I'll give him that. And the book is nicely anecdotal. But I'm not here to give you a book report. I'll shut up.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think of yourself as a Jew? Do you have a Jewish identity?

[A] Diller:[Laughs] No. Not really.

[Q] Playboy: The irony of Jewish anti-Semitism brings up another question. Some people claim that show business is run by homosexuals; others, that the business is homophobic. What do you think?

[A] Diller: I don't think you can say that the entertainment business is homophobic. That is at base untrue. It's incorrect.

[Q] Playboy: Can an actor or an actress in this town live his or her life openly as a gay man or a lesbian and still get hired?

[A] Diller: Well, you may have a point about the hiring of actors and actresses—but that's a different issue, in which other things come into play that have nothing to do with phobias, homo or otherwise.

[Q] Playboy: Let's talk about some of the big names in town. We'll mention a few and get your response to them. Eddie Murphy.

[A] Diller: What about him?

[Q] Playboy: You were at Paramount when he made 48 HRS., Trading Places and Beverly Hills Cop. Why did he become a star?

[A] Diller: Why would he not be a star? He's a funny guy.

[Q] Playboy: How did you develop a relationship with him?

[A] Diller: Larry Gordon and Joel Silver, who produced 48 HRS., tell the tale that Paramount—meaning me—wanted to replace Murphy. I wasn't there when they were seeing the dailies—I don't know where I was—but somebody from Paramount supposedly said, "Get rid of this guy." I don't know. I like him a lot. I guess a lot of other people do, too. I haven't the vaguest fucking idea why he's a star. What an absurd question.

[Q] Playboy: Did Paramount, in fact, try to fire him from his first movie?

[A] Diller: I truly don't know. I think it's kind of apocryphal. If it was during the dailies for 48 HRS., you certainly couldn't tell that he was going to become such a big star. When we put him in 48 HRS., nobody had the foresight to say, "My God! This guy's going to be the number-one movie star in America!" Nobody said that. Nobody ever says that. But after 48 HRS., we were alert enough to say, "Let's take him."

[Q] Playboy: Warren Beatty.

[A] Diller: Warren Beatty is my friend. I wouldn't ever talk about a friend.

[Q] Playboy: Madonna. Her movies fail. Why isn't she a movie star?

[A] Diller: I think she is a movie star. Whatever the reasons are, there have been bad choices made for her and by her. But she's a movie star. How can she not be? She may be a movie star who's never in a movie, but Madonna is a movie star. Thirty years from now, people will say, "Mmmmm... movie star: Madonna."

[Q] Playboy: Mike Nichols.

[A] Diller: I can't talk about him. He's a friend.

[Q] Playboy: Diane Keaton.

[A] Diller: My friend.

[Q] Playboy: Bruce Willis.

[A] Diller: I like Bruce Willis.

[Q] Playboy: Why did you give him a reported five million dollars to star in Die Hard? You supposedly toed the line against "star" salaries at Paramount.

[A] Diller: I don't know. What you do at a narrow moment of time for the reasons that you do does not necessarily prove anything. You can say you paid him too much, you paid him too little. The fact of the matter is that Die Hard made a lot of people a great deal of money. So who's to say? There was a small window of time to make the movie and have it ready when we needed a movie to be ready. So Willis was available, and he said he wanted X amount of dollars to do it, and we said yes to it. Now, that was dumb or smart or some gradation in between.

[Q] Playboy: Diana Ross.

[A] Diller: A friend of mine.

[Q] Playboy: Marvin Davis [former owner of Twentieth Century Fox].

[A] Diller: He's not a friend of mine. It's interesting, I'm being pretty straight about this. I wouldn't speak publicly about Marvin Davis. I've spoken too much privately.

[Q] Playboy: Martin Davis [chairman of Gulf + Western].

[A] Diller: Probably the same. However, he's done a great job at Gulf + Western.

[Q] Playboy: Which movies are you most proud of?

[A] Diller: The most proud of? [Laughs] There was this chimp movie at Paramount—Going Ape! Then there was ... I see the images, but I've blocked out the titles ... there was a Joan Darling movie with that little blond guy in it, First Love. That was great; I was very proud of that. [Laughs] Oh, and, of course, Won Ton Ton, the Dog Who Saved Hollywood.

You know, when Diane Von Furstenberg and I got together, she used that awful movie as the symbol of our lives. We really began going out when we went to the preview of Won Ton Ton together. We were on our way to the country, so we dropped by this theater in the suburbs of New Jersey. It was in some mall somewhere. Just awful. The audience was full of motion-picture-exhibitor types and their fur-clad wives.

[Q] Playboy: You mean like the folks who watch the Fox network?

[A] Diller: No, these were exhibitor types—believe me, they don't watch nothing. They only know what they know. And there was Diane, watching Won Ton Ton with all these furs. She survived it, but she still says to me, "Well, you know, you can always go back to Won Ton Ton." It was the lowest. To watch that movie in that huge theater with those people was an awful experience. What else? This is fun. Oh, yeah, 1900.

[Q] Playboy: Are you being facetious or serious? Some people think 1900 was Bernardo Bertolucci's best film.

[A] Diller: I saw the six-and-a-half-hour version of 1900, for which I gather I will have the undying enmity of Mr. Bertolucci. It was painful sitting there for that length of time. I had just arrived in Rome and was very tired. Maybe that had something to do with it.

[Q] Playboy: Seriously, which films have meant the most to you?

[A] Diller: OK. Bad News Bears. Should I do this by years? Saturday Night Fever. I remember: Until the first hour of the first day of release, no one liked that movie. Heaven Can Wait, which was very emotional and a great turn. Days of Heaven, for sure. I'm just thinking of movies that were emotional for me. Reds.

[Q] Playboy: Which movies have you turned down that you wish you had made?

[A] Diller: I don't care about what I turned down. In the movie business, it has nothing to do with what you don't do. It has to do only with what you do. What you don't do that someone else has the alertness or the perception or the taste to do, and that turns out to be great, has nothing to do with you. It has to do with him. If you begin to define yourself by what you haven't done, then you're foolish.

There are people who say, "You read the script for E.T. and you turned it down? You bird brain!" But the truth of the matter is that any success you have is because you see something, not because you don't see it. It doesn't matter that someone else sees it. More power to him. But if you look at the movies—or any creative thing—you'll discover that before they were fully realized and people could then react to them, an endless number of people didn't initially "get" them. That's fine. Thank God that happens. If that didn't happen, then all you would need is some research firm that could do it all, figure it all out up front, plug it in one way and pull it out the other.

We're very lucky that that's not the case. For example, Warner Bros. turned down the script for Heaven Can Wait. Then I read it and thought it was wonderful. The reverse of that is that very early on, I read One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest and didn't want to make it. It's only what you react to. But who cares if you've turned down a movie and other people went on to make a success of it? It doesn't concern me.

[Q] Playboy: It is reported that your contract with Fox runs out next year. Will you sign up for another hitch?

[A] Diller: Unfortunately, in terms of technical freedom, it's not true about next year. It's a little further in the distance than that. You know, I've probably had fewer, as they say, "jobs" than most people. I've really had only three. I went to school at William Morris. I was at ABC. And then Paramount. I really don't think of Fox as a job.

[Q] Playboy: What is it, then?

[A] Diller: I just don't really think I work anymore. I have no need to work. I don't have to pay the bills.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think you're worth the money that Fox pays you?

[A] Diller: How can anyone respond to such a question—whether you're paid X or five hundred times X?

[Q] Playboy: How do you measure your worth?

[A] Diller: There's no way you can measure it in dollars, that's for sure. Dollars have nothing to do with worth. You measure it in the things you ought to measure it in: What do you do? What do you contribute? What effect do you have on the people around you and the organism you have responsibility for? I don't think you can put that in dollar terms. I've never asked any single person for any single thing. Well, wait—is that true? Let me think. Yes, it is true. I'm being honest here with you. As it relates to me personally, I've never done it. I've never said, "Pay me this and I'll do that." It's an irrelevant issue to me. To me, Fox has nothing to do with money. I have more money than I would ever be able to spend in multiple lifetimes.

[Q] Playboy: Then why are you at Fox?

[A] Diller: For a lot of complicated reasons. Because I'm still interested in the process. Because there's still work to be done. In contrast to what I've done in the other phases of my life, the Fox companies are a challenge. But if somebody came up to me and said, "Would you be interested in running this movie company?" I'd look at him like he was crazy. I've been in the entertainment business for more than twenty years. If I were still interested in only running a movie company, I'd be a fool.

[Q] Playboy: You sound a bit bored. Would you ever leave the corporate world and just produce movies?

[A] Diller: Never. No, no, no.

[Q] Playboy: Would you ever leave show business and do something different?

[A] Diller: There's nothing else I would do in the entertainment business than what I do now. And I doubt that I will be in the entertainment business for the rest of my life. I would presume that, I would hope. I'm just not sure what it will be, because I'm not finished with what I'm doing yet.

[Q] Playboy: How do you avoid burnout?

[A] Diller: You reburn. By not burning the same stuff I was burning five years ago or ten years ago or fifteen years ago. I think you have to keep doing different things.

[Q] Playboy: Throughout the interview, you have tried to give us the impression that you are not a self-observant person, that you don't contemplate your life. If that's true, you are the only celebrated, successful person we know who does not look at his life as some sort of narrative flow. All successful people seem to have a sense of themselves as characters in their own lives.

[A] Diller: But I never have, and I think that has a lot to do with the best parts of my life. I never have.

[Q] Playboy: Let's give it one more try. At Paramount, you were known for championing high-concept films—those that could be summed up in one line. If you were going to sell The Barry Diller Story to a movie company, what would be the one sentence that would hook it?

[A] Diller:[Laughs] Oh, God! You've been doing this all the way through this interview! You've kept coming up with these ultimate truths every time I say something. So you write the sentence; I can't write it. I'm the worst judge of me. I do not do that well. I've told you that. Anything I would say would be utter noise. By the way, I'd love to be challenged, to be forced to do it so that we could laugh over it. Because we would really laugh. I would laugh hard.

"Listen, the only thing I care a lot about is this: All you really have to contribute is what you think. I respect people who approach problems in that way."

"I really don't think of Fox as a job. I don't really think I work anymore. I have no need to work. I don't have to pay the bills."