Society’s infatuation with celebrities misbehaving knows no limits, which might have been part of the story pitch meeting for Immortal Beloved (1994). A group of seasoned studio executives sat around a polished rosewood table. An ambitious and eager writing team reminded the honchos that the paying public has an insatiable appetite for rock-star drug binging, for movie-star adultery, for sports-star money grubbing. "Let’s give them Beethoven!" And thus was green-lighted Immortal Beloved, the True Hollywood Story of one of the greatest composers in history. "And let’s be sure the movie hits," stipulated an exec. "I want to see at least three totally hot chicks in some stage of nudity before the end credits roll."