Oh, Canadia!

LB writes:

I will be relocating to Canada soon. Are all crew members of television productions shot in Canada, including set and office production assistants, required to be union members? If so, does this include American television productions shot in Canada?

My knowledge of Canadian unions extends only so far as to know that they exist.

But, since you’re writing to my blog, I assume you’re a PA, and not an active member of the DGA.  I’d be willing to bet that, like their American counterparts, Canadian PAs don’t have a union.

The reason?  Well, who would want to be a PA long enough to join a union?

On top of that, there are plenty of shows which are non-union.  Cable shows and reality are notorious for this.  Plus, one union’s jurisdiction has no effect on another’s.  An independent film can have a deal with SAG, but still not be a DGA or WGA signatory.  I’m sure the same holds true for Canadian productions.

Atlanta Isn’t Burning (With Jobs)

Kyle writes in:

I recently stumbled across your blog and have really enjoyed the reading. I have a few questions I was hoping you might give some advice on. I have interned as a P.A. on a few different occasions for editing studios in Atlanta, Ga. However, now that I have graduated I am finding it extremely difficult to find any production jobs (I found it easier as a student). Maybe I am going about this the wrong way, do you have any advice? Should I pursue a larger market than Atlanta?

Hard to say.

I don’t know if you’re going about it “the wrong way.”  Times are tough all over; you may just be yet another victim of the economic downturn.

Atlanta has a fairly large production base.  Ted Turner’s companies are there, and Tyler Perry just built a fancy new studio.  I’m sure there are a bunch of smaller, local companies there, too.

But that it doesn’t come close to what we’ve got in Los Angeles.  We have thousands of productions companies.  You could make a whole career and earn a pretty good living working for production companies nobody’s ever heard of.  Even with all the runaway production, no where else in the world has the film community we have, outside of possibly Mumbai.

That being said, there are a lot of people out of work here, too. You can’t expect to get a job right away.

I assume you made some connections during your internships? Why not use those to your advantage?  You’ll be starting from scratch here.  It’s tough all over, and you should use an advantage you can get.

Useless

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again– nothing we do in Hollywood matters. We’re not doctors or soldiers or police or fire fighters. No one’s going to die if we make a bad TV show.

There are a few individual exceptions. People can get hurt if a grip or an electric or a stuntwoman doesn’t do her job right.  Interestingly, these are the same people who will survive the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

The face of inevitability.

Everyone else on the crew will be only so much fresh meat. Above the line? Dead. Camera department? Dead. Hair and make up? Dead and dead.  Almost nothing they do bears any resemblance to actual, necessary life skills.

The same goes for me. I don’t know how to fight or shoot a gun. I don’t even know first aid.

I went to film school for four years. What am I gonna do, dazzle them with a trenchant analysis of Michael Bay’s oeuvre? All that knowledge is just gonna make my brains tastier.

One might argue that writers will be necessary in the post-apocalypse. Someone must bear witness to the end of history, right?

Sure, but that’s a secondary skill. It’s what Michael Taylor will do while taking a break from building his zombie trebuchet.

DGA Trainee Program

Reader (and aspiring identity thief) Anonymous PA writes:

From a PA perspective, what are your thoughts on the DGA Training Program? Have you ever worked with a DGA Trainee?

I’ve worked with many DGA trainees.  All kind, good-hearted people who have not yet had their souls crushed under the oppressive weight of ADdom.

I’ve made my feelings about assistant directors well known in the past, so I won’t reiterate them here.  Suffice it to say that it’s a job I wouldn’t enjoy, nor would I be any good at.

That being said, if you actually want to be an AD, whether because you’re a misanthrope or you just hate people, the DGA Trainee Program sounds like a pretty good deal, from what I’ve heard.

Like most unions, the DGA requires that you work a certain number of hours before you can join.  I don’t remember the specifics, but you have to work some ridiculous number of days as a PA (something on the order of 300) before you can be a 2nd 2nd AD.  On top of that, a certain number of those days (maybe 50?) must be worked outside of New York and Los Angeles.

The trainee program allows you to circumvent all that.  Once you’re accepted into the program, you are instantly a DGA member.  Of course, the Guild takes over your life.

You work on every kind of shoot– feature, TV, commercial, industrial, big budgets, small budgets, budgets that climb on rocks.  I think you work up to fifty days on any single project (assuming it last that long).  Then, on weekends, you take classes.  This goes on for two years.

And when you’re done, you get to be a 2nd 2nd!

Earning It

One of the basic tenets of the American Dream is the idea that hard work will be rewarded. This simple belief is what gets most of us out of bed in the morning. Yay, capitalism!

It’s so ingrained in us that we believe the obverse must be true, especially with regard to ourselves. If I’m colossally rich, it must be because I worked very hard.

This is why writers, directors, producers, and actors love to talk about how hard they work. They need to assure themselves, as much as you or I, that everything they grew up believing is true.

But that’s not how capitalism works.

Sure, hard work is more likely to be rewarded than laziness, but you don’t get points for effort.

Pay is based on two things: the necessity of a given skill, and the rarity of it. A writer doesn’t work harder than a grip, and both are necessary to complete the film.

The difference is, one skill is a lot more rare

So, what I’d like to tell all the writers, producers, directors, and especially actors is, quit trying to convince us you worked hard for your huge paychecks, first dollar gross points, giant houses, fancy cars, and trophy wives/husbands. You took your God-given talents and used them. That should be good enough.

And if it’s not, take comfort in the fact that we’d all do the same thing, in your position.

Stupid Amounts of Money

I recently rediscovered Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip on Hulu. If you don’t remember the show, it’s basically a funny version of 30 Rock, except that it’s an hour long and doesn’t star a cute writer who vaguely resembles the former governor of Alaska.

As much as I enjoy Studio 60, I must admit it is a solipsistic view of Hollywood from the producer’s perspective. Yesterday, I watched ”The Option Period.” Part of the plot involved the network demanding the producer fire fifteen crew members in order to save money. (Why the executive was talking to the director-producer instead of the line producer is a question I’d rather not consider.)

At a certain point, the executive offers that the producer could take a pay cut to save jobs. The producer waves this away with a dismissive, “No, we’re not going to do that.”

This harsh comment hit home for me, because my own show is going through a similar situation. Our studio has imposed a pay freeze on all returning shows this season. (Generally, one can expect at least a small raise from one year to the next, especially on a successful show.)

There is an exception, of course, for actors and producers, whose contracts are written years in advance. In exchange for their promise to return season after season, the studio guarantees pay bumps from one year to the next.

This seems like a great plan, except when everyone around you isn’t getting a raise. I honestly don’t know how I could, in good conscience, accept the extra money. “Sure, I already make millions of dollars, and stand to make millions more in syndication and DVDs, but I really need that 5% bump to keep up with inflation.”

I’m not saying they should let the studio keep its money–that’d be dumb–but these are the supposedly “creative” people. Surely the could refuse the pay raise, in exchange for a commensurate increase in the show’s budget.

You always hear about CEOs who work for one dollar a year when their company is in trouble. How can someone who’s pouring their creative energies into their chosen art form not do the same?

Of course, I know the answer *cough*GREED*cough*, but I’m young. Allow me to wallow in my naiveté for a few more years, please.

Loose Lips

The other day, Michigan PA commented on a post:

I live in MI and will be working on my first major film later this month. My question is, can I psot on my facebook page about my experiences while working on set?

Yes and no.

Yes, you can say, “My boss is awesome,” or “This show rocks!”

But other than generalities and platitudes, I would advice against writing publicly about your experiences on set.  Hollywood takes itself very seriously, and many like to hide their creative process from the prying eyes of the public.

You can get fired even for writing good things about your movie (i.e. “It was so funny when Jim Carrey said…”).

Basically, until you have more experience, and you better understand the attitude of your particular set, do not post anything that your boss might see later.

- – -

On the subject of writing publicly about your show, I received the following email from an editor at LA Weekly:

I ran across your blog and was wondering if you could help me.

We are looking for a below the line blogger.

I want to have a blog in which all the below the liners will read. Beyond an actor throwing a fit at craft services (which would also be good), I want someone to write about the chefs on the set, the costume designers. When production goes into overtime and why?

I want production people to check the blog each morning, and go “damn, those poor bastards at so-and-so had a rough go of it last night,” as we describe why a shoot went late, and why. Things that effect this town and the people that are in it.

Do you know anyone who can fit that bill?

Me, obviously.  Wouldn’t it be awesome to see my blog along side Nikki Finke’s?

I asked if I could do so and remain anonymous, but the editor replied:

We would want specifics, for sure.

Thinking more about finding a writer who is not in the biz, or once was in the biz, but has a lot of connections.

Do you think people would be willing to be sources on shows, and name them?

And herein lies the problem.  As I just explained to Michigan PA, talking about your job can lead to job loss.  Even simply allowing yourself to be a sourse for a news story, if the quote can be traced back to you, can end in firing, and trouble getting a job in the future.

(Which is why, when the mainstream media catches on that the crew thinks a particular actress is a bitch, she’s probably even worse than reports say.)

All that being said, if you or someone you know would like to write for LA Weekly, drop me a line, and I’ll forward it on to this editor.

Fuck Jay Leno

’s show.

From what I’ve heard, he’s a nice guy.  Also, he supported the writers’ strike, and now the guild is screwing with him (which is totally unfair).  He may be the most middle-of-the-road comedian in history, but he’s still a lot funnier than most of the guys in the office who hate him.

Despite all that, fuck his show.

The LA Times has a story about the many, many people who want The Jay Leno Show to fail.  (Thanks to TV By the Numbers for the link.)

One particular quote caught my eye:

NBC executives dismiss the notion that Leno’s new gig is robbing the industry of jobs. “The Jay Leno Show” will have a staff of 22 writers who belong to the Writers Guild, which is far more than the typical drama, the network points out.

First of all, there’s a lot more at stake than writers’ jobs.  A normal scripted show employs 100 to 150 cast and crew members.  Even if this variety show has that large of a crew (unlikely), that still amounts to around 500 people out of work.

On top of that, even the writers are getting screwed.  Scripted shows have a staff of between five and ten writers.  At the low end of that estimate, three writers are still out of work.

I will concede NBC has a point with what they said next:

The show will produce 230 episodes a year, as opposed to 22 episodes for the average drama, which means the writers will be employed longer. And the show will be locally produced in Burbank, thus preventing the flight of jobs to Vancouver, Toronto or one of the other out-of-state locations where many scripted series are now shot.

That’s great, but they’ll be shooting on the NBC-Universal lot 90% of the time.  All of the location fees, catering costs, and other ancillary businesses that depend on crew shooting in Los Angeles get cut out.

But here’s the thing.  No matter how much the industry cries and screams and moans, The Jay Leno Show will be a success.  How do I know?

My mom.

Sure, you could analyze the tracking numbers, or discuss how much the show costs versus how good the ratings are, but I’ve come to realize that the most reliable bellweather of success is my mom.

If my mom has heard of something, be it a book or a movie or a TV show, that means it has so permeated the culture as to be inescapable by even a grey-haired, retired school teacher whose favorite band is and always will be The Beatles.

Furthermore, if my mom’s eight old biddy friends all discuss a particular show, and profess a desire to watch it (like my mom told me they did last night), then that show will be huge.

And we’re all going to be out of work.

Screen Story Success

Since I’ve been talking about executives all week, I figured now would be a fine time to direct you to Screen Story Success, a blog by former studio executive Lindsey Hughes.

Some of her advice is good (“If your story is episodic, your main character better be incredibly compelling”), some, not so much (sorry, Lindsey, genre is descriptive, not prescriptive), but it always gives insight into the way executives think.

Take her review of District 9 (SPOILERS AHEAD):

Because he is so complicit, Wikus has the potential to change dramatically making the story compelling. He does not. He never has a big change of heart, realizing what the government and MKU are doing is wrong. He never examines his role in any of it. Instead, he is out for himself for the whole movie until he has a radical and unsubstantiated shift in the last few minutes.

See, that was the genius of District 9. Rather than have Wikus experience a change of character in the first act, and then have the goal of freeing the aliens for the next 80 minutes, instead his goal is primarily selfish and self-centered. It takes the entire film for him to recognize the humanity (as it were) of the aliens. It’s a radical, non-studio approach to character in a fun, popcorny sci-fi movie.

This is the problem with Robert McKee and Syd Field. As Stephen Gaghan says, their rules make accountants think they know how to tell a story.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow…

Well, not “fonder,” exactly. It makes the heart grow something, anyway.

The French have a funny colloquialism: “ponte.” It literally translates as “egg” or something, but it’s used to mean “an extra day off on top of a national holiday.” What does it say about France that they need a word for this?

We could use the word here in Hollywood, too. When I sent a mass email on Friday morning, about half of the recipients (all from the studio, I should point out) auto-replied with something like, “I know you still have to work today, but I’m already on the way to the airport. So long, suckers!”

Not in so many words, you understand, but that’s what they meant. One assistant told me the attitude is basically, “Eh, the shows can take care of themselves.”

It really makes you wonder why we need the studio suits at all…