HOLLYWOOD / WASHINGTON DC - Somewhere between Washington, D.C. and Hollywood Boulevard, someone in power decided the humble penny had outlived its usefulness. Just like that — poof! — gone. Copper history. National pocket lint no more. And while the country debates whether rounding up or down is patriotic or preposterous, Hollywood — that grand old dream factory of glitter and delusion — quietly shudders.
By Allan R. Ellenberger for The Hollywoodland Revue
Because whether Congress knows it or not, Hollywood was built on pennies.
Not financially — heavens no, this is the town that tried to convince us a $200 million sequel was a “modest mid-budget picture.” No, Hollywood relied on pennies the way starlets relied on good lighting: for hope, darling, for luck, for that tiny whisper from the universe that maybe — just maybe — today was the day your name would be spelled correctly on a call sheet.
In the golden days, when Sunset Boulevard still smelled faintly of orange blossoms and not vape pens, every actor, producer, director, cowboy extra, and aspiring hoofer had a lucky penny tucked somewhere on their person. Judy Garland kept her charms. Walt Disney had a coin so worn it should have collected Social Security benefits. And the down-on-their-luck cowboys at Gower Gulch flicked pennies into the dirt before auditions like they were making offerings to the gods of casting.
A penny wasn’t just a coin. It was a tiny round promise. A copper prophecy. And in Hollywood, darling, superstition is thicker than pancake makeup.
So it’s no surprise that as soon as Washington announced its intention to yank the penny out of circulation, the movie business began experiencing what the trades might politely call “an existential wobble.” Films are flopping. Agents are blinking into the abyss. Executives named Bryce — there are so many Bryces now — are muttering about “market disruptors” while refreshing their inboxes like they’re trying to summon a séance.
The truth? Hollywood has lost its lucky charm. Literally.
Imagine some starry-eyed hopeful stepping off the bus at Hollywood and Vine today, ready to chase a dream. In 1950, she might have looked down and found a shiny penny glinting up at her — a sign! A signal! Her destiny calling from the sidewalk!
Today? Poor thing’s far more likely to find a Lime scooter or a parking ticket.
The penny wasn’t worth much on paper, but it carried all of Hollywood’s emotional currency. It symbolized the belief that a career could turn on a chance encounter, a moment of timing, a stroke of cosmic luck. A penny was fate in miniature — a reminder that big dreams can be sparked by very small things.
And now we’re told to rely on rounding. Rounding!
Hollywood has been rounding numbers for years — box office figures rounded up, ages rounded down, truths rounded into publicity-friendly shapes. Careers have been rounded off the books entirely the moment the audience forgets a face. But taking away the penny? That feels like the final insult: a cultural decree that tiny things no longer matter.
But in Hollywood, tiny things-built legacies. A one-line role. A glance from across a soundstage. A test shot. A last-minute rewrite. A moment of inspiration that changed everything. And, yes, a lucky penny picked up from a filthy sidewalk because fate doesn’t always clean up after itself.
Without pennies, Hollywood risks forgetting its own history. It risks forgetting that the greatest stars often started with nothing but a bus ticket, a cardboard suitcase, and the belief that the universe occasionally leaves small treasures in plain sight.
If I were still wearing hats as large and intrusive as Hedda Hopper’s, I’d march straight into Congress and demand a special Hollywood exemption. Restore pennies to the sidewalks of Sunset Boulevard, if nowhere else. Scatter them across the Walk of Fame like copper confetti. Let the dreamers find them.
Because Hollywood doesn’t just need money. Hollywood needs miracles. And miracles often come disguised as tiny, insignificant coins — the kind most people ignore, but dreamers understand immediately.
So yes, darlings, eliminating the penny may be efficient. It may be sensible. It may even make economic sense. But spiritually? Symbolically? Cinematically?
It’s a tragedy worthy of its own melodrama.
And until those pennies return, don’t be surprised if Hollywood keeps feeling just a little unlucky.