Top Gun II is not a Fundraising Movie. But It Could Be. Sort Of. Maybe.

When I was trawling the internet for the perfect picture of Richard Simmons last Monday, I discovered that there’s a new biopic of Simmons in production starring, who else, but Paulie Shore. Apparently, Simmons isn’t happy about it. I wouldn’t be either if the best anybody can do is casting the guy remembered (and then promptly forgotten) for “weazing the juice.” You can do better, Hollywood.

Will Paulie Shore’s Richard Simmons have a chance encounter in mid-Michigan with Kitty, asking what she had for breakfast? My mother has reminded enough people over the years of Kitty Foreman on That 70s Show, so I nominate that actress for the role.

Richard Simmons’ biopic is unlikely to have anything to do with fundraising. Which is fair—there’s not a lot of great fundraising movies out there.

And to be sure, Top Gun II isn’t a fundraising movie. But it could be. Maybe. And the only reason I’ve gone down this weird road is because I was reminded this week that I nailed the plot of Top Gun II (in writing) two years before it came out.

I’m not going to totally spoil this movie for you, but I will spoil my own conclusions about it right now: What both fascinates and troubles me about this movie is that it seems like Tom Cruise is solely responsible for all the heroic things that happen. Everybody else is window dressing. I can get over this in a movie that I don’t really care about, but I have a hard time shrugging off this same instinct in the profession I’m part of.

Top Gun II has drawn to the surface for me a bad habit we have in the fundraising world. We tend to ignore all the people who play a role in making big, splashy things happen. Top Gun II just happened to be the movie I was watching when this clicked for me.

And I can trace it to a jokey moment between me and a coworker.

On February 5, 2020—a couple weeks before the pandemic shut everything down—I was sitting at my fundraising desk, minding my own fundraising business, about to do important fundraising things. My delightful, film-buff co-worker (let’s call her Genie) leans over my cube wall for a conversation that went something like this:

Genie: Morning, Dan! Did you hear they’re making a new Top Gun!?

Dan: I didn’t. It sounds terrible.

Genie: But you don’t know what it’s about…

Dan: Yes, I do. Everybody does.

I then typed up—in a single, inspired sitting—what I believed to be the plot of Top Gun II. I printed it out, signed it, sealed it, and gave it to Genie to put in her desk for safe keeping until the movie came out. Then the pandemic happened, we worked remotely for a couple years, Top Gun II never came out, and Genie and I forgot all about it.

Flash forward 2 ½ years: Genie somehow remembers the letter, found it, and opened it after seeing the movie. Below is a photo of what I wrote which (I warn you now for a second time) has spoilers. But they’re spoiling something before it was even available to be spoiled. That’s what a boss-level spoiler I am:

As you can see from the above, I was right about, like, 90% of this movie. (Hat tip to Genie for even remembering we did this, digging it out, and playing along).

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S i d e b a r

I have it on good authority (by my very funny sister-in-law in the military) that the bitchin’ call signs Navy pilots use aren’t self-selected. Maverick! Ice Man! Slider! It’s all hooey, you guys. A pilot’s call sign is actually determined by other pilots, and they’re rarely meant to be flattering. One pilot was on a diet and trying to avoid dairy, so naturally, his fellow pilots christened him “Dairy-Free.” That’s, like, his pilot name now. And I’m here for it.

Also, true story: I once took a film class with Jim Cash, the guy who wrote the original Top Gun. He ran the easiest, most bizarre class on campus. He assigned us one movie a week, asked that we memorize key stats about the movie (year it was released, director, main actors, stuff like that.), and then we had a final exam worth 100% of our grade that was basically pub trivia about 20th century movies.

(You waffle-eaters will be pleased to know that I aced the exam. That’s why I’m known in the Naval pilot community as “Ace”)

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I watched Top Gun II somewhat recently and liked it for the same reasons everyone likes these kinds of movies. Nostalgia mixed with a little derring-do. (No volleyball games in jean shorts this time around, but there is a shirtless game of beach-front football keep-away. Weird). The real capper of the movie for me was when my wife turned to me and said: “Is it just me, or is this a movie about how Baby Boomers won’t retire and let Gen Z kids do the jobs they were hired to do? ” Which is a fantastic, hysterical summary of the movie.

It’s also not a fundraising movie and I don’t want to turn it into one. That would be dumb. But it suffers from the same problem that fundraising does—we think the biggest, the splashiest, the most transformative gifts come from the work of only person: the one who closes it. And they don’t. They come from a ton of people who do too many things to keep track of. And when added all together, big things happen. Fundraising is a team sport. And I promise you more than one person brings it across the finish liine.

Yes, Tom Cruise has other good-looking pilots around him when he’s saving the day, but do you care about them? No, you don’t. And, yeah, I get how movies work: we’re supposed to be drawn into the conflict he feels about everything that’s happened to him since 1986. But the most boring part of the movie for me is having to drag my attention through the third act pretending to believe that this one-man show is for real, that the stakes are as high as it claims, and that nobody else has a role to play in this entire drama.

Don’t get me wrong, the movie was perfectly fine. I’m just bored by it because I can’t suspend my disbelief long enough to believe in it. It’s like when I hear all the kudos that get showered on gift officers for bringing in big gifts. We should learn to drown that noise out and bring in all the people who made that gift happen. All the people who put in hours to get that gift over the finish line. Because that’s where the real drama happens, right? That’s where the arguments and negotiations happen. Where the jokes, the frustration, the elation, the disappointment, the life of fundraising happen among people working together who want to accomplish the same thing for others. That’s where most of us live, and that deserves a bit more of the spotlight than it ever gets.

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S i d e b a r  

Since a number of my indulgent coworkers are reading this (or at least telling me they are), I offer up the following Top Gun-esque pilot call signs in honor of everything you do for me, for each other, and everybody we work with. To the winner who correctly identifies each person by his/her call sign, I’ll fill out all the cover sheets on your TPS reports for the rest of the year. (For the cheating cheaters among you, there’s an answer key at the end of this post).

1. Red Baron

2. Dog Pound

3. Paperboy

4. Cicero

5. Rumspringa

6. Prom Queen

7. Dinkasaurus Rex

9. Clickety-Clack

10. Rain Maker

11. Belle Aire

12. Members Only

13. Two Scents

14. Ringmaster

Clearly, the real heroes in my workplace are the above people who put up with stuff like this. Thanks for playing.

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I’m giving a presentation next week to the staff where I work about a campaign I’m running. And the only slide really worth presenting is the one where I name 27 staff members—from Finance, to the CEO’s office, to the fundraising team, to those at the reception desk—who had a hand in bringing in a very large gift we received last month. To my shame, this will be the first time I do this in 3 years of running this campaign. Top Gun II tells me it’s long overdue.

People give me credit all the time for achievements that so many other people had a hand in. And it’s only partially deserved. This is not false modesty (I’m not a very modest person, you guys). I deserve a piece of it, just not all of it. I would venture the same is probably true of gifts you’ve brought in, or gifts you’ve worked on.

No one person brings in a gift by themselves and no one fictional pilot deserves as much screen time at Tom Cruise gets. It sends the wrong message.

Top Gun II is not a Fundraising Movie.

But It Could Be.

Sort Of.

Maybe.

See you the Tuesday after Memorial Day.

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Answers for cheating cheaters who have the need for speed:

1.KD; 2. CL; 3. JP; 4. SR;

5. RB; 6. MH; 7. AM;

9. RC; 10. HH; 11. AN; 1

2. PP 13. DN 14. SM