A former studio executive has shared a revealing account of the chaotic early negotiations behind what was then the most ambitious music-driven film project of 1979 — and the surprising fact that Neil Diamond initially turned the role down not once, but three separate times before eventually reconsidering. According to the executive, the studio’s insistence bordered on desperation, while Diamond’s refusal came from a mix of caution, instinct, and a reluctance to commit to a project he felt wasn’t fully formed.
The executive said the first approach happened quietly. Diamond received an early draft of the script through his management, accompanied by a handwritten note from the director praising his “emotional presence” and “performance gravity.” Diamond read the draft and politely declined within 48 hours, citing discomfort with what he called “a story that didn’t know what it wanted to be.”
The studio dismissed his hesitation as typical artistic caution. They assumed he would come around.
The second approach was more formal. Executives invited Diamond to a private conference room in Los Angeles, where the director, lead producer, and music coordinator pitched the project in person. They described sweeping concert sequences, a dramatic arc centered on artistic struggle, and a soundtrack they believed would redefine the genre. Diamond listened carefully, asked detailed questions about character development, and requested revisions to several scenes.
But once again, he declined. The executive remembered the moment clearly: “He closed the script, thanked us for the effort, and said he didn’t see himself in the story yet.”
The refusal shook the room. The studio wanted his name attached early for marketing leverage and international distribution. They reworked portions of the script over the next two weeks — tightening the emotional beats, sharpening character motivations, and adding more substantial musical moments.
The third pitch was the most elaborate. The production team rented a small theater to present a mood reel — a 12-minute compilation of test shots, concept imagery, and temp music meant to communicate the film’s intended tone. Diamond watched it without speaking, seated in the center row with his hands clasped.
Halfway through the reel, the executive recalled thinking the mood might finally sway him. But when the lights came up, Diamond stood, complimented the visuals, and offered a respectful but firm “I still don’t think this is my path.”
It was his third refusal.
The studio nearly gave up. But several weeks later, after rewrites and new musical ideas began circulating, the director reached out one last time — this time with a drastically revised script and a simple message: Read this version. Nothing else. No meeting, no pitch.
Diamond did.
According to the executive, he called the next morning, his tone noticeably different. He didn’t commit immediately, but he asked detailed artistic questions, requested specific scene adjustments, and inquired about scheduling. It was the first sign of movement.
“He never said yes on that call,” the executive recalled. “But for the first time, he didn’t say no.”
Over the next days, conversations deepened. Diamond made suggestions that reshaped entire sections of the film. The studio, exhausted but hopeful, adjusted everything to match his instincts. Only then did he finally agree to take the role.
For the people involved, the turning point wasn’t the money or the pitch theatrics — it was the moment Diamond felt the project carried enough clarity and sincerity to be worth doing.
“It took three refusals to get to the real yes,” the executive said. “But when he said yes, he meant it.”