Six AM? Really?

Today’s post was going to be about something totally different, until I read this post from the Tightrope Walker blog this weekend.

I should start by saying I enjoy this blog from Doris Egan, although I don’t watch any of the shows she writes for.  She’s interesting, informative, and funny.

In fact, Saturday’s post was the first I’d heard of the new Emmy rules for Best Series.  As she summarizes:

The Academy has determined two things:

1) Only a producer should receive an award for “Best Series.”
2) Only a producer who spends a greater portion of their time producing other people’s episodes than writing their own should receive an award for “Best Series.”

Directing producers, in. Line producers, in. Writing producers… well, the Academy’s letter reads:

“A priority of the Acadmy is preserving the value of the Emmy Award thus insuring that those who are most deserving and actively involved are the ones honored with nomination.”

That would not include writers, apparently. Though it would include people who do the scheduling and handle the budgets, and it would include producer-directors.

That’s disappointing.  Of course, both Egan and I agree that producer-directors and line-producers are no less deserving than writers of a “best series” emmy.  In fact, she goes on to say:

The award, by the way, is not for “Best Producer.” It is called “Best Series.” It is simply a tradition that producers have received it; were I King, I’d give everybody on the show an award.

Right on!

She continues–

Now, shows are all run differently, but on the vast majority of them, writer-producers also have producing duties. This may include re-writing other writers; it almost certainly includes things like casting; participating in concept, tone, scheduling, wardrobe, and production meetings; going on location scouts; giving editing notes…

All true, so far as it goes.  Although I will say that most of those examples are just writers sitting around and yapping while someone else does the real work.

But then she goes off the rails with this:

…and showing up on set at 6:00 in the morning for the first rehearsal and not leaving till that night’s wrap.

I’ve been on first season shows and seventh season shows, and I have never, ever seen a writer show up at six AM.  On a well-established series, we on the crew feel lucky if they come in ante meridiem at all, much less six hours ante.

And to stay through wrap?  Never seen that, either.

Even if this hypothetical twelve-hour writer existed, let’s not forget that many in the crew arrive before official call time, and stay well after wrap.  (As much as I mock ACs, for instance, those people work long hours.)

Again, I agree with Egan in general.  But let’s not go exaggerating to support the worthiness of the cause.

Do Not Read Wannabetvwriter

I haven’t engaged in a flame war in a little while, so, in an effort to boost my stats, I decided to start one.

I suggest you do not read wannabetvwriter’s blog.  She is a script coordinator that I don’t believe you’ll find to be either funny or insightful.  Certainly not this recent post, where she freely admits to indecent exposure in public.

Please do not click on any of the above links. You won’t be amused or interested at all.  You should also not click on the link in my blogroll.  (How did that even get there?)

Wisdom of the Aged

Whenever I write a woe-is-me post, like Wednesday’s, I get some very thoughtful comments from higher up-types. I recommend you read them. It’s good to be reminded that I don’t know everything.

I also received some good advice from our construction coordinator this morning. I was performing a ridiculous task–  won’t say what; it’s so specific, if my boss reads this, he’ll know who I am– but it’s the kind of retarded thing PAs do on a regular basis.

The construction coordinator saw me, and asked why I was doing this. I rolled my eyes and said, “I have no idea. They tell me to do it every couple of weeks or so, for no reason, as far as I can tell.”

He shrugged. “Well, as long as they keep making you to do it, you know you still have a job. Can’t complain if they ask you to come back Monday.”

And it’s true. As stupid as this job is sometimes, it is a job.

Yay?

Perfection

Following yesterday’s post, I had a few more thoughts on mistakes.

I used to be a personal assistant to a producer. He asked me if I ever wanted to be a director, and I said I did. He told me I could never do that job until I could do this job perfectly.

This statement made absolutely no sense to me, whatsoever. What could getting coffee and rolling calls have to do with directing a film?

There are many career paths in Hollywood, but some are more straightforward than others. Advancing within certain departments works much the same way it does in any line of work– with each promotion comes more pay and extra responsibilities; as you advance far enough, smaller responsibilities fall on those below you.

A best boy, for instance, does the same work as a grip or electric, with the added responsibilities of ordering and tracking equipment (among other things). This, in turn, relates to being a gaffer key grip, in that these department heads are responsible for budgeting for said equipment, as well as hiring crew.

Other careers make less sense. A set PA becomes a 2nd AD, who becomes a first AD, who suddenly becomes a UPM. You spend twenty years running around sets, and then suddenly you’re sitting at a desk?

Camera makes even less sense to me. The ability to load film does not reflect whatsoever on your ability to pull focus, which in turn has no bearing on your camera-operating skill. Then, you’re promoted to DP, and suddenly you’re in charge of the grips and electrics, too!

Directing is an extreme version of this. Directors often come from being department heads. This makes sense for a DP, who’s already in charge of three departments. Less so for a costume designer.

But the absolutely most nonsensical career path is that of the writer.

In TV, producers will often hire their assistants to be writers. But what does getting the boss’s lunch order right have to do with writing a script?

This is what they mean by “paying your dues”– lying. There are jobs that must be done, but bear no relation to what you ultimately want to do. The older generation, including my old boss, simply lie to the next generation to get them to work hard at an essentially meaningless job.

And I’ll probably be doing the same thing in twenty years, I guess.

Mistakes Will be Made

Yesterday, Shawn commented on a grammatical mistake I made (now corrected):

“Kids my age so comfortable and lazy that we can’t even muster the energy to leave the house, much less protest.”

Or even do a simple grammar check.

It’s true, I made a mistake, and it’s true that I often mock others for similar mistakes; but to misquote… well, someone, “Never attribute to [laziness] that which can adequately be explained by stupidity.”

In any job, you’re going to make mistakes, whether you’re a PA or a Producer or a blogger. Some or most of these will be unintentional, or even despite your best efforts. But the people affected by your mistakes won’t see it that way.

It’s called Special Pleading. People excuse their own mistakes, but assume others are being malicious or lazy.

The first time my boss called me an idiot, it hurt my feelings. After a while, I came to recognize that he clearly didn’t understand how hard I was working.  Further, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I knew I was doing a good job.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I cried in my pillow at night.

As a PA, you need to accept that no one will ever see things from your perceptive, unfair though it may be. Get used to saying, ”It won’t happen again.” And then move on.

Soldiers, Farmers, and Poets

A recent post on the Freakonomics website feature the following quote:

“I must study Politicks and War that my sons may have liberty to study Mathematicks and Philosophy. My sons ought to study mathematicks and philosophy, geography, natural history, naval architecture, navigation, commerce, and agriculture, in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, musick, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelaine.”
John Adams, Letter to Abigail Adams, May 12, 1780.

My grandpa fought in WWII. My dad was a computer engineer. I work in TV. Not exactly porcelain-making, it’s true, but still.

Every generation wants their children’s lives to be better, but no one succeeded on such a grand scale as The Greatest Generation. They defeated the Nazis, transformed the economy from agrarian/industrial-based to consumer-based, and fucked their way to the biggest baby boom in modern history.

The children of Woodstock were much the opposite. They had the most material comfort of any generation, and no concrete threat like fascist Germany. Basically, they had a lot of time on their hands, and didn’t know what to do with themselves. Why do you think teenagers were invented in the 60s? A sixteen-year old used to be manual labor or a mother. Now they could “study mathematics and philosophy,” not to mention protest in the streets while burning bras and draft cards.

This goes even further for my generation. We can do things now that was science fiction even twenty years ago. Kids my age are so comfortable and lazy that we can’t even muster the energy to leave the house, much less protest.

Which makes me wonder about my kids. No one ever considered what happens after poet.

Holding Back

Many people seem to be under the misapprehension that we in the office like to hold on to things. Several times a day, I get calls asking if a prelim callsheet has been published, or if a package has arrived, or if the latest draft of the script is out.

You know what? No. If your package arrived, we would have called you. Hell, we probably would’ve just brought it to you. We will distribute the call sheets as soon as we get them. That’s what we do. Hell, it’s practically all we do.

Yesterday, I handed a schedule to our costume supervisor, and she had the gall to ask, “When did this come out?”

Lady, I just put it in your hand. Just now. You remember that, right? I sure do.

When do you think it came out?

House Guests

Ken Levine recently wrote a post about Eliza Dushku not swimming in his pool.  A location scout from Dollhouse wanted to shoot at his place, but Levine turned them down.

His initial reaction is pretty much the standard for anyone working in the business. If you’ve ever shot on location, you know you don’t want a film crew anywhere near your house.

However long the location manager says they’ll be there, they’ll be there longer.  They promise the crew to be extra-careful, but your priceless collection of ancient,  Mesopotamian pots will be broken.  (This actually happened.)  They swear they won’t disturb your neighbors, but the catering truck will run over somebody’s mailbox.

It is absolutely never worth having a film crew at your house, no matter how much you’re being paid, and everybody knows it.

Except, of course, for the set decorator who rented his house out to our crew last week.

This guy was shocked, shocked!, at how many people were going in and out of his house.  He couldn’t believe we wanted to move his furniture.  He had no idea how noisy we were going to be.

If someone is unfamiliar with the business, I would understand.  It sounds glamorous and fun to have a movie or TV show made at your house.  Of course, it’s not, but this is just one of those life lessons, you know?

But this guy is an set decorator.  He should know better. It’s his job to go into stranger’s houses and screw them up.  How did he not expect the same from us?

Something’s Wrong

Every once in a while, when I’m delivering stuff to set, the crew starts rolling before I get off the stage, and I’m stuck until the end of the take (or takes).  Yesterday was one of those times.

With nothing to better to do, I watched the monitor.  After the fourth or fifth “Goign again!”, I stopped paying attention to the actors, and noticed the moon on the translight looked kinda fake. I went over to the 2nd AD and asked if that was due to the quality of the video tap, or if it would look that fake at home.

He shrugged. “If the audience notices the backdrop, there’s something seriously wrong with the scene.”

There’s a an old canard you’ll hear on any set when something goes wrong– “We’ll fix it in post.” Usually, they’re just kidding, like muttering, ”Yeah, but last time I didn’t receive a piece. I could set the building on fire,” at someone’s office birthday party.

But when someone claims, “If they notice X, we’ve got bigger problems,” they really mean it.  They’re saying, in effect, “Shut up, and let’s move on.”

Of course, it’s impossible to make a movie without any goofs, gaffs, or screw ups, and it is often a judgment call whether a technical error is egregious enough to destroy the suspension of disbelief.

But I hear this excuse a lot. I think it puts too much pressure on the actors and script, and doesn’t fully recognize the crew’s role in creating a world for characters and story to exist in. If we can see that that world is made of papier-mâché and chewing gum, it doesn’t really matter how good the actors are.

I like to use the phrase as a barometer for the quality of show I’m on. You’ll hear it employed far more frequently on a shitty straight-to-DVD movie than on a major scripted network show.  Thankfully, this was the first time I’d heard it on this show.

So far.

Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed

Even when the crew has a night call, someone has to open up the office during business hours. And, as usual, by “someone,” I mean me.

The morning shift on a late call offers very little to do. After turning on the coffee and setting out the bagels (both vitally important to the running of a TV show, let me assure you), the morning PA will go through the paperwork in “the football.” It’s not an actual football, of course, but a case or folder containing all the time cards, exhibit Gs, and so forth needed by the coordinator, UPM, and accountants to complete their production reports.

(I assume it’s named a “football” after the term used for the suitcase containing nuclear launch codes that the president always has nearby, once again demonstrating Hollywood’s complete lack of perspective.)

But after that, there’s not much to do but update your Facebook page, or maybe write a blog entry. The crew’s not filming, so they’re not calling and asking for things all the time. Half the office staff comes in late so they can close up shop after wrap. The producers never come in before ten o’clock, anyways.

Basically, your job is to answer the phone, so no one thinks that your show is populated by a bunch of layabouts who don’t crawl out of bed before noon. It’s like that time in college when you drove to Vegas for the weekend, then tried to convince your mom you couldn’t answer the phone Sunday morning because you were in church.

Not that that happened to me in any way.