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Jerry Bruckheimer, the producer whose attention-span-impaired taste aligns so seamlessly with that of easily entertained moviegoers that he's made enough money to shower in two-carat diamonds and spend each night of the next decade sleeping in a freshly constructed, $40 million mansion surrounded by a moat of molten gold, recently opened up to LAtimes.com about his process for selecting projects:

Latimes.com: So my first question is how do you decide which projects you want to do. Like, what's your process?

[Jerry Bruckheimer]: Well, if I want to go see it — it is that simple. I don't know what you like, I don't know what anybody else likes, but I know what I like.

Latimes.com: So you choose movies that speak to you and not necessarily what you think will speak to a larger audience?

JB: Well, fortunately for me, what I've liked what other people have liked. So far I'm doing OK. It will all change some day, but for right now I'm doing OK. [...]

Latimes.com: Seems like you especially like action.

JB: I like drama — action is included in that. I like interesting characters. Interesting themes. Great arenas.

Latimes.com: What do you feel are the elements of a good story?

JB: It's always great plotting, great characters and then coming back to great themes.

Latimes.com: When you say great plotting, what do you mean by that?

JB: Storytelling. Beginnings, middles and ends. In that order.

Those eager to sell all of their belongings and head off to Hollywood for a superproducing career shouldn't be discouraged by these needlessly complex "Great Plotting, Great Characters, Great Themes" and "Beginnings, Middles, and Ends, In That Order" maxims, as Bruckheimer was obviously trying to impress a reporter with his mastery of Aristotelian dramaturgy; in the end, they're hardly essential to the success of a project. Neglecting all three of these supposedly essential elements and randomly arranging the order of beginnings, middles, and ends can, and often does, result in a hit; one need look no further than the career of maverick filmmaker Brett Ratner for proof of that, and for reinforcement of the single, inviolable rule of blockbuster-making: "Shit Must Be Blown Up."