Sam and Jim are two guys who write scripts in Hollywood and they have a podcast. They're also big believers in the future of the Internet as TV. Their latest podcast is particularly relevant to this particular blog: they're another voice that sees the inevitability of an Internet which will empower writers and creative talents. But I don't agree with them on all counts. Have a listen for yourself. It's not short. Not much is even all that new. But much of it is well said (hey, they're writers).

I did like what they touch on regarding "spec scripts" and how writing TV specs is such a waste of creative energy. Having written my fair share of TV specs, I totally agree. Writing specs involves a ton of energy, if you wanna write something good enough to get hired from. But you're writing these things just to get a job--they're "resume pieces." And you don't have any chance of getting them made. They're dead on the page as soon as you write them, since the only purpose of a spec TV script is to show your writing ability to get hired on a show, rather than actually writing something that is going to be produced. So they sorta suggest that in the near future, writers will be better off investing that energy into scripts that they can actually make (thanks to the power of Internet distribution).

But I don't agree with them that "you" can't go off and make TV shows for the Internet as well as Hollywood can. Or maybe they're not talking to me when they say "you." Maybe they're talking to bozos with video-cameras who post pranks on YouTube. I'm not sure. Hey, good TV is hard. Hollywood fails half the time, as is evidenced by all the un-aired pilots and half-baked series that get canceled in the first season.

They do acknowledge that budgets don't have to be as big in the digital era. That the Web and accompanying technologies make things cheaper, especially when we excise the parasites (e.g., studios) who really don't offer much to improve the quality of a show, but take an awful lot of cash out of a budget. However, Sam and Jim don't yet see that the production values of Hollywood will be duplicated by "some guys in a garage" in the not so distant future (and I'm not talking about making Michael Bay's Transformers here, though a time will come when that level of CGI will be duplicated by college kids as well; instead I'm talking about something more like Arrested Development or The Office). I think Sam and Jim really are writers, full stop, and they might not realize that digital technologies are accelerating at the same rate as the Internet-based distribution platform. Cameras and equipment are getting better and cheaper. And expertise is becoming more widely dispersed outside of the traditional production centers. A rarer commodity than production values will be actors of the caliber we expect to see in a Network show. But again, we'll find those talents in stranger places too. Over time, Internet content might even alter our expectations of what an actor should look and sound like (go back and watch older movies and you see that it's an evolving aesthetic anyhow). But good acting will be a rarity.

And ultimately, I agree with them that Internet content has not paid much attention to the quality of storytelling. But I disagree with them when they (seem to) suggest that this can't happen without Hollywood writers such as, ahem, themselves. Good writers are very rare. They're the rarest of elements in the filmmaking equation, in fact. But they don't exist only in Hollywood. There is nothing magic about that hallowed ground. And while Hollywood has made it a business to pick through the thousands of talentless hacks to find the real storytellers, the Internet itself (or at least the audiences) will also begin a process of mining for the gold from a much bigger pool of dreamers. Because the truth is only a small percentage of the best storytellers ever actually move to Hollywood in the first place. That's right--there are more good writers than Hollywood will ever catch sight of. People choose not to move to Hollywood for myriad reasons, or never have such a choice at all. And some of those people can tell stories just as well or better than the best working today. Yes, Hollywood offers rather effective Darwinian selection for the best writers, but the Internet as a whole will serve up even better natural selection.

There is also a craft--a process of developing stories--that Hollywood has honed quite effectively, and which gets passed down to working Hollywood writers. But talent is the real key, and the craft will also be developed in the remoter corners of the world with some time and some trial and error.

I sorta sense that these guys are excited by the power that the Internet offers creatives such as themselves, but they perhaps also underestimate the potential for the Hollywood model to be duplicated in Minnesota, or Toronto, or Bombay. YouTube is crap, not because Hollywood has an exclusive lock on "the secret." YouTube is crap because it's just a clearing house for, well, crap. As Jim and Sam point out, the future "channels" will be companies or even individuals who select the best comedy, drama and non-fiction for us to watch on our Internet connected 52" LCD HD TV's with five point surround. And the talent to deliver those comedies and dramas will come from unlikely places. The clock is ticking down.

For certain is death for the born,
Therefore over the inevitable
Thou shouldst not grieve.
Bhagavad Gita (250 BC - 250 AD), Chapter 2

It seemed inevitable to me: writers wallowing in picket lines would realize they don't need studios anymore. Seems it just took a couple months break from the fat Hollywood checks for writers to wake up. They're finally arriving at the rather obvious conclusion that writers should be by-passing the studios altogether and developing programs directly, and distributing them online, thereby retaining creative control and probably a heck of a lot of the potential money. (See, I'm still calling it potential money, but watch how quickly that "potential money" turns into gazillions--things move lightning fast in the digital era. I'm wagering within 15 months, we'll see the first instance of some new online dramatic or comedy series that ends up generating enough ad dollars to pay creators as much money as they'd make on any Network series.)

Fact is, writers are smart enough to realize that it might be stupid to fight with studios over a tiny percentage of Internet re-broadcast royalties when the future of television is the Internet itself, and writers can simply create their own content--indeed create their own studios--alongside creative producers and directors. Where's the money for production going to come from? Venture capital, that's where.

This article in the LA Times describes the first rumblings of such deal-making by writers. Believe me, it's the beginnings of an avalanche (on the studios) and a liberating revolution for artists. Ironically, the studios' petty fight over the pennies they don't want to pay to writers for Internet re-broadcasts will probably be the smelling salts that wake writers up to the fact they're now working in unnecessary servitude. Writers worth their union-card should take the risk and truly own the content they create, reaping the rewards too.

Get Out of My Computer! (Threats of Regulating the Internet in Canada)


[Awesome B&W photo above by Christian Fosatti.]

Jeezus, that thought scares me. Yes, broadcasters are actively cajoling the CRTC into regulating the Internet in Canada. Why? Because they see their stranglehold over Canadian ad dollars slipping away, end of story. They want it both ways: the Canadian broadcaster wants as LITTLE regulation as possible when it comes to airing Canadian content, so that they can continue to make the big bucks on ad spending during the airing of U.S. shows; but now that eyeballs are drifting over to Heavy.com and YouTube.com and MyDamnChannel.com, well, they're terrified. And now they're crying like little babies about the lack of regulation of the Internet. The CRTC wisely allowed market forces to govern the Internet, and the Canadian TV networks realize that you and me and some guy named Gord in Powell River can be a broadcaster too. Oh, so NOW they want regulation. The same broadcasters who arm-twisted the CRTC into relaxing several regulatory rules, thereby allowing broadcasters to count reality TV as Canadian "dramatic" programming, as well as attempting to stretch the "prime time" slots for Canadian programs towards midnight on Saturday nights when no one would be watching. (See, the Canadian networks don't care if you watch Canadian TV--they just put it on the air because the CRTC makes them do it as a price to pay for getting the right to air American content in "real prime time," like Thursday night at 8 pm!)

Thing is, I'm absolutely 100% for regulation of the television networks and Canadian cable signals. If we didn't have regulation we'd have no Canadian content on our own channels at all. But the key is that CRTC regulation, in the ancient television world, is a force which protects the interests of THE PEOPLE. The CRTC regulations are NOT primarily designed to protect executives' salaries at CTV and Global, despite what those executives might think. The CRTC regulations are NOT designed to preserve share value of Canadian networks either. Market forces dictate those things. In fact the networks themselves employ very few people directly (relative to other industries, and I'm not including the freelance production community, which again only gets work because the CRTC forces the networks to finance some Canadian shows). But here the networks are lobbying for CRTC regulation of the Internet to protect THEMSELVES not to protect the people. The earth-shattering difference is that the Internet is already democratized and Canadians can create content and get it out to their fellow citizens at will. So regulation of the Internet by the CRTC is not needed to keep Canadian stories on the Net the way it's needed to ensure the existence of Canadian stories on traditional network television. Any Canadian, any time can put their story out there on the Net.

See, Canadian network television signals were rare and precious and deserving of regulation because they were LIMITED. Only a few companies had access to them, because at the very least it takes millions of dollars and a corporate infrastructure to become a TV network. Plus, a network consisted of a SINGLE CHANNEL delivered to many cities at once. So if you're Channel 8, well then you have a licence to a LIMITED piece of real estate, which is in fact owned by the Canadian people. The network is regulated because we want to ensure that the network operates on that piece of precious Canadian real estate with our best interests in mind. Reminder: the network doesn't OWN that channel. It operates there under a licence that the people (i.e., the government) has given to the network as long as certain obligations are met (e.g., airing stories and news relevant to Canada as well as making too much money on American shows bought on the cheap).

So now we're in the digital age where there is no limit to the number of channels. The number of channels is infinite. Every Canadian can have one as soon as they post their home videos on their blogs. And it doesn't takes hundreds of millions to run a "network." It's free or almost free to anyone with an Internet connection. See how terrifying that is to the networks? It's not surprising the networks suddenly want regulation of the Internet. North Korea and Iran have regulation of the Internet too: it's about control. And control is usually really about money. The Internet threatens the salaries and dividends of the very rich families behind the Canadian networks. But now it's actually the NON-REGULATION of the Internet that provides the most powerful way in history to get Canadian voices out to the people. It's what the CRTC regulations were all about in the first place: not about protecting network exec's salaries, but about ensuring that the airwaves were owned by Canadians. We do own the Internet. Just like every citizen in the world owns the Internet. And we should fight to keep it that way before corporate interests try to control our access and our voices for their own ends.

Because what the networks really want is to apply the old world television definition of "broadcaster" (a regulated entity) to any individual who starts putting videos online and making money from them. That's right. If you're a filmmaker or write a blog and you start a web page that attracts advertising revenue, the Canadian networks want you to be defined as a "broadcaster" so they can shut you down. See why I find that scary?

But I envision a day when government cultural subsidies go not to broadcasters and politically connected production companies, but directly to the artists who make content, which is then distributed online right to your television set. Like a future Best-of-Canada-Channel.com, where the funniest Canadian comedy, the most compelling Canadian docs, the most valuable Canadain news, and the most gripping Canadian drama can be viewed by Canadians. It will be created by Canadians, and the Canadian audiences will benefit as well as the artists and storytellers who make the content.

In short, let's not forget who is really supposed to be protected by CRTC regulation: the people. Not the networks. I hope Canadians have the gumption to keep the Internet owned by the people, for the people. And when you hear arguments that Canadians watch too much American internet, well, then we should lobby for more moneys to help Canadians make and promote their sites online to get Canadian eyeballs watching Canadian stories again. But we should NOT be brainwashed into believing that we therefore need to hand control of Internet distribution to broadcasters or even to the government. I believe we really can tell stuff the world wants to watch. And a democratized Internet that's freely accessible to all will help ensure those Canadian stories gets out there.

What the WGA Strike Means to You



Also see this article on the subject over at FreshDV.

I'd still like to read some analysis of how such strikes affect non-union writers and filmmakers. I mean, obviously having the protection of a guild/union is invaluable. Creative contributions will NEVER be valued to the degree they should be without such protection. But will non-union writers working for below scale (often WELL below scale) find more work as a result? There is increasing non-union (i.e., truly indie or DIY content) being made every year. The DVD market could easily be flooded with non-union films, if a producer is able to invest in a non-union project without violating their own adherence to WGA rules.

Then again, the adage that you get what you pay for may well hold true: the quality of scripts by unknown, non-union writers may be so much lower that it's not worth the risk to a producer. On the other hand, let's not forget that every union writer was an unknown, non-union writer at one time too.

In the end, I would like to see every writer--both union and non-union--refuse to work for below scale, whether during a strike or not. That's just not a reality for non-union writers, however. And in case any WGA members with dual-citizenship plan on trying to make some money in Canada (which is not on strike) over the next few months, be aware that animation writers in Canada, despite being covered by the WGC, don't even have minimum script fees--and the "standard rates" seem to be dropping each year rather than rising. You see, animation fees are "subject to negotiation," but a starving writer has very little negotiating power. That's why we need a healthy union on both sides of the border. I think the situation warrants some serious attention here in Canada, though I doubt Canadian writers have the guts and gumption that the American writers are showing right now. (Then again, with the appallingly low rates for scripts in Canada, we have a lot less to lose, and a strike might not have as much impact on our livelihoods as the comparatively flush US writers working for "the Networks.")

In the end, I still think it would be nice to see more writers pick up a camera or hook up with someone who can pick up a camera so that they own more of their own work. Then if the film makes money online the artists can keep most of it, and not just the relatively small amount they'll probably derive after a the strike. As distribution becomes democratized via the Internet, more writers need to flex their muscle by creating content they own directly. I think that could also send a very loud message to the studios. They need our words and ideas more than they know. And we're not just going to give it away. The Internet will soon be the ONLY way audiences receive content (whether it's viewed on a TV or a computer screen). It's a fight writers can't afford to lose.

DOWNLOAD HOTEL CHEVALIER AND SEE NATHALIE PORTMAN NUDE...IF YOU LIVE IN THE U.S.A.

The naiveté is astounding. 20th Century Fox has released the short film, Hotel Chevalier, free on iTunes in an effort to promote Wes Anderson's upcoming feature film, The Darjeeling Limited; however, the short film is only available via the American iTunes, and therefore unavailable to the rest of the world. iTunes is already irritating enough with its proprietary DRM protection, which prevents iTunes files from playing on non-Apple devices. But the arrogance in releasing anything to a U.S. only audience on the internet flies in the face of everything the internet is about: instant access everywhere by everyone. It's old-world thinking in a new world order, and it's going to fail if 20th Century Fox actually believes it can limit and control this sort of marketing to certain territories.

I call Hotel Chevalier an "insubstantial short film" in the graphic, but in fact I thought it was intriguing. About as intriguing as a good trailer for a movie, except without the rapid editing and swoosh, boom, pow sound effects. It sets up a distinctly curious relationship, but offers no pay off. But more interesting to me than the film itself is the fact that the studio would seek to limit to a single market the online release of a free short film that is really no more than a trailer for a movie. It's as baffling as it is frustrating, as the studio seems completely oblivious to the new reality of online content. Within hours, people were uploading the file to bittorrent sites and within 24-hours had uploaded cracked (non-DRM) files to YouTube, MetaCafe, GoogleVideo and others. Meanwhile, 20th Century Fox has a staff busily yanking the files off the web as quickly as individuals could post them.

As a Canadian, I bristled at the idea that I could not see this short film immediately, unrestricted, along with my brothers and sisters south of the border. I don't care what the rationale might be. It's just plain silly. And futile. I became so obsessed with watching the video despite being told "no" by iTunes and 20th Century Fox, that I just kept clicking on GoogleVideo until I successfully got a version that hadn't yet been yanked by the thought-police. Oh, the quality was awful. A pale shadow of the proper iTunes version, I'm sure. But that's how badly I was determined to see it. And Wes should be unhappy I didn't get to see a better quality version in order to make a better first impression.

Keep in mind this is a TRAILER FOR A MOVIE. BEING OFFERED FOR FREE to anyone with iTunes in the U.S. The technology to rip and distribute the short film is ubiquitous. Why on earth are they not just letting things take their natural course? I can only imagine, they want to control the marketing of the short film with a more timely release of the feature film in foreign countries (although major cities in Canada get release prints of major movies at the same time as New York and L.A. and BEFORE most smaller American cities do).

It's the arrogance and ignorance that irked me most and drove me to find a way to watch the damn film no matter what. Maybe that is part of the marketing? To be able to tell the world that despite their best efforts, the world insisted on pirating, ripping, trading, and bittorrenting the file. In which case, I fell for the charade hook line and sinker.

Instead, however, I'm inclined to think they're just morons who haven't caught up to the modern world in September 2007. Because surely it will be another world in October altogether.

I've mentioned in this blog before that I think the digital revolution will contribute to a broadening of audience's creative appreciation. That online distribution will allow artists to refine and define audience tastes in a much more direct way than we've experienced in the past. Because the traditional routes of distribution required that artists convince executives to review and approve of the artist's media creations. Only now, we're going to be exposed to the unusual, bizarre and the brilliant without the filter of some guy in a suit with questionable judgment. It's up to the audience to decide what has merit. And with increasingly fractured niche audiences within an artist's grasp, in some ways EVERYTHING has some merit.

In the old days, creators of music, literature or film had to convince some label, publisher or studio to approve of their creations before the work would get out into the world. But online digital distribution is now instant and entirely within the hands of artists. And despite the proliferation of shallow, meaningless YouTube prank videos, we're also increasingly exposed to a much broader range of artistic expression than ever before. And I just happen to think that audiences are hungry for something inovative, new and different. This song, Chocolate Rain, by Tay Zonday (aka Adam Bahner) is a case in point. The track is a YouTube phenomenon with more than 6 million views. It's odd. But listen to it twice and you get swept up by it. Hypnotized by it. It's certainly different, and there just ain't no way a label would have had anything to do with it. I fully expect the next wave of music and filmmaker stars to come out of the DIY digital revolution.

"Some Tech For Artists: 60i versus 24P"

So, in case you don't know what 60i or 24P refers to, let me simply sum it up thusly:

60i is a frame rate used by HD cameras to capture high-resolution moving images--it's essentially 30 frames per second within 60 fields. Whatever.

24P is the frame rate traditionally used by film cameras to capture moving images, delivering the quality of motion that we have come to attribute to the movies that we pay to see in the theatre. 24P is 24 frames per second (aka 24P or 24fps).

If we watch a movie shot in 60i, we'll think we're watching a "video" or a "live sporting event." If we watch a sporting event shot in 24P, we'll be inclined to think we're watching a scene from something like "The Longest Yard."

Anyhow, it has been argued that the reason we have come to accept 24P as the "cinematic frame rate" for movies is simply that it's what we're used to seeing in the theatre. And alternatively, a 60i frame rate reminds us of videos we shoot at home. The argument goes further to suggest that 24P was simply selected early on in the development of film technology due to cost issues; that 24P wasn't more inherently "filmic" but was just cheaper than faster frame rates. Higher frame rates meant going through more reels of film (the film is moving through the camera's "gate" faster to achieve the higher frame rate, thereby increasing the film stock consumed). In fact, 18 frames per second was originally employed as the slowest frame rate to capture a fluid motion our human eye would accept. But 18fps lent itself to troubles when synchronized sound was introduced: basically sound couldn't be realistically synched to 18fps, so the frame rate was increased to 24P, which was the minimum frame rate for synch sound. Over time, the theory goes, we just got used to seeing this frame rate with big budget movies shot on film. More recently, low-cost video cameras like the DVX100 were able to duplicate the 24P frame rate, simulating a film like motion and allowing low-budget movies to be shot with standard-definition and high-definition video cameras.

But now we get into the land of theory, because no one really knows for sure why we prefer 24P in our movies (as opposed to 60i). The one argument I mention above is simply that we're more used to seeing it, and it's just become an "aesthetic habit." But I think there's a chance that more than one thing is at work here. That while 24fps made for a more practical framerate (i.e., it was the slowest frame rate allowing for realistic synch sound, while keeping the need for film stock as low as possible) there was also something happening psychologically at that frame rate. And so maybe there was some serendipity in the discovery of the 24P frame rate: it was practical AND it was "magical." Because we don't actually want REALITY from our art. Monet wouldn't be a household name if the only goal of art was to reproduce things in a quality that mimicked what the human eye could see.

I believe the human brain likes to work a little bit, at least subconsciously, when we sit passively watching a movie. Even dumb human minds. We like things to be a little dream like and "other" and metapohrical. We want to struggle a little--but not too much--to understand the meaning of things. And maybe we want this in our movies, because movies are like our dreams--they're not entirely literal. We become captivated and hypnotized by them not because they capture a perfect recreation of reality, but because they capture a dream-like interpretation of reality. We like things to be a bit poetic and subtle and obfuscated. And my theory is that there's something about 24P that tells our brain we're entering a dream. We want that. At 24P, the image becomes painterly and magical. And I think the same can be said for the screenplay's dialogue. If everything is "one the nose" and "just like real people talk," telling us everything we need to know in boring pedantic speech, "just how like we really talk," we quickly lose interest.

Truly capturing reality on film would require something much, much faster than 24fps. But audiences want a break from reality. Just like we also like the actors' wardrobe to match the sets (that doesn't happen all that often in real life). And we like music over the love scenes (in reality maybe you get this in your bedroom with surround sound, but not in Central Park). Poetic dialogue, color coordinated wardrobes and musical soundtracks aren't added for any practical reason. They're not cheaper. They're more expensive! But we like them added to the movie because it elevates the experience to "art" (and I use the term art loosely to include Alien vs. Predator as much as it refers to Wong Kar-Wai's In the Mood For Love). There's just something blurry and other-worldly about 24fps that you don't get that with 60i+.

So, I'm not convinced that 24P is just something what we're used to. I think the practical considerations for the "slowest frame rate possible" would have disappeared as budgets for movies grew and technology advanced. Instead, I think we really like things to be a bit distorted from reality (24P lends a certain blur to movement that 60i does not have). We don't want things consistently so distorted that we don't know what's going on. But we want them distorted just enough that it transports the creative side of our brain. The part that dreams things.

So if I'm watching a documentary that includes footage from a real Mars landing, I want it to look REAL. I want to see what Mars looks like as close to the human eye as possible, and 60i would be much more satisfying to me. But if I'm watching the Martian Chronicles, I definitely want 24P.

And another perspective on product placement. I worship David Lynch. But I think there's room for some variations on the approach here. Because while product placement can do things like seriously undermine the integrity of a film, it may also be a necessary part of low-budget filmmaking in an online world. And hey, I seem to spend too much time clearing products that I want to appear in my film anyway, or removing them altogether. Why not just find a product with values you appreciate, and which company equally appreciates the artistic intentions of your movie. The key may just be the freedom of the artist to choose which products to partner with. If I have a breakfast scene and they're eating cereal, rather than getting my art director to make a fake cereal box, why not find a natural whole-foods company that likes the idea behind my film and is willing to kick in a thousand bucks to have my healthy, gorgeous actors eating it? Food for thought. At least until we're all independently wealthy enough to finance our own films without anybody else's money.

Two days after I blogged about the Mac's WTF videos (see below), YouTube continues to take them down at an alarming rate. Apparently a gay gardener who grows tulips that eject orange slushy drink when lightly petted is obscene. And apparently so is a little girl who grinds plastic toy unicorns into the same slushy drink. Maybe Mac's has relented to the pressure and taken the shorts down themselves, but this is exactly what the online world is NOT supposed to be about: censorship. Artistic freedom is paramount to the digital revolution. If YouTube can't handle the truth, then I can only hope other outlets will allow for the free expression of writers and filmmakers from around the world. Yes, even a "TV commercial" warrants freedom of expression protection (because these Mac's shorts are a form of advertisement as much as I think they're masterful little works of art). Anyhow, search the Net and you'll find the WTF videos posted elsewhere; sometimes even re-posted by a growing WTF fan-base elsewhere on YouTube, as in here or here. I love these shorts for their subversive approach, and wonderfully creative wackiness. Keep 'em coming.

"WTF is that? A short-film or a commercial?"

I've discussed the power of online distribution and the imperative for artists to start thinking about embedding ads and product placement within their films in order to finance their projects. And I've mentioned how product placement doesn't have to detract from an artist's work or the entertainment value to the audience. In the end, product placement (in all its forms) is probably the only way to take advantage of inevitable piracy, i.e., more and more people will be downloading media content for free, and there will come a time soon where you'll want people to steal your movie. Because the more people who watch it for free, means there are that many more people seeing the "embedded" advertisement.

Some might argue there's a danger that the "movie" will eventually become indistinguishable from the "advertisement"--that a feature-length flick filled with product placement and embedded ads supplants the filmed entertainment itself. I'm pretty convinced, however, that the marketplace can smell a rat, and where the entertainment value is so diluted that the flick is just an excuse to show "ads" then people will stop watching. The same can be said already of highly derivative Hollywood movies that simply emulate previous successes to cash in on a fad: the audience knows it's a "fake" and usually turns away. But we also know that commercials can, in and of themselves, be absolutely entertaining and highly creative. There are festivals that celebrate the creative brilliance and entertainment value of the best ads in the world. The line between entertainment and advertisement gets blurred. Which is a long lead-up to my introduction of this most curious and captivating new organism that has just arrived on the Nitwitnet.

The chain of Canadian convenience stores, Mac's, has commissioned a whole bunch of bizarre but undeniably entertaining short comedy films from Toronto's Bos Ad Agency to market its orange slush-drink, which apparently comes in size WTF, OMGWTF and AUNTSMGWTF (I don't get the last one yet either). There's a whole bunch of these shorts online, and they're threatening to go viral. And I think these ads are also an example of how filmmakers can use advertisers to make their movies, just as easily as advertisers can use filmmakers to make their ads. The conflation of the two worlds has already taken place in mainstream media (e.g., it ain't a coincidence that all of Michael Bay's Transformers were GM vehicles--kaching!). And I firmly believe the next logical step is for independent artists to take advantage of the same product placement techniques, probably by approaching micro-businesses as much as the mega-companies. Hey, you might not be able to convince Coke give you a million bucks for some prominent product placement in your online videos, but if you've demonstrated that your little movies can get an audience (and soon your "large" movies too as bandwidth and screens grow), then there's no reason that smaller local businesses shouldn't want to take advantage of the audience you do get. Hey, the world will now know the Mac's brand, thanks to these WTF videos. Because that goofy Canadian convenience store is about to become a star on the world-stage. You'll have to check out the full line-up of Mac's WTF videos over here.

EDIT: In the course of an hour, I notice YouTube has already taken at least one WTF video down for being too racy. Oh come on! The lesbians in Mr. Tree were fully clothed!! Sigh. But you can still view Mr. Tree over at Milk and Cookies instead. Fuck you too YouTube. YouTube's reaction seems a bit homophobic, or at least a bit harmless-soft-porn-o-phobic to me.

"BUILT IN OBSOLESCENCE"

As stated by Wikipedia, it's the decision on the part of a manufacturer to produce a consumer product that will become obsolete and/or non-functional in a defined time frame. As a digital filmmaker, this blog entry could easily be referring to the cameras and computers that become nearly obsolete within six months of purchase--something that can be both frustrating and exciting, because the next best thing promises to hand even more power to the DIY media artist. But in fact, I wanted to write about the built-in obsolescence in people in the film business. And that is NOT something I find exciting at all.

I've noted for years how a hot new director or writer often fades into the background within a few years of making it big in Hollywood. There are the rare exceptions--people with careers that span decades. And then there are the guys who never hit it huge, but work steadily but unnoticed through longer career trajectories. But there has always been something profoundly disheartening about the guy who directs some fresh, captivating movie one year and then spends the next decades tending his sprawling, entirely-paid-for garden in Santa Monica.

Orson Welles died a has-been. Despite his tremendous success, literally transforming the craft of movie-making, he hardly worked after the age of 50. D.W. Griffith is studied in every film history book as a founding father of modern cinema--he too died broke. And then there's the long list of contemporary where-are-they-now talents; women and men who did something profoundly special only to be passed over for the next "hot, new thing" a few years later. Hey, Eduardo Sanchez, one of the directors of 1999's "Blair Witch Project"--the most profitable independent film of all time, no less--didn't get the greenlight for another movie until 2006's blink-or-you-miss-it "Altered."

Point is, it depresses me. I don't do what I do, hoping to make it big only to fade into obscurity. I do what I do because I'm driven to do it, and I will not wait seven years for someone to tell me I can make a movie. Up until now, we didn't have much choice. Movies were too expensive. We needed big fat cheques and teams of specialists with rare equipment to practice our craft. Thankfully, I feel I can now do what I do regardless of the blessing of a studio exec. If I want to garden, I'll become a gardener. I became a filmmaker to make films. And now I'm going to make them whether anybody wants me to or not. Anyone who doesn't think they can do it without Hollywood's approval should listen to Stephen Soderbergh who says of the $17,500 Red Camera, "This is the camera I've been waiting for my whole career: jaw-dropping imagery recorded onboard a camera light enough to hold with one hand. RED is going to change everything." I just have to believe that Orson Welles would have made a lot more films if he could have got his hands on a Red Camera and a Mac.

A Few Breadcrumbs For My Readers

More about the death of traditional TV and the revolution for independent filmmakers and entrepreneurs becoming the next new "broadcaster." Check out this podcast of interest, featuring an interview with Steve Safran from LostRemote.

Even some of the rich guys who scored all their money and power via old-world film technologies are hip to the digital revolution. There's a great article in the latest MovieMaker Magazine about Francis Ford Coppola, who predicted a revolution consisting of a "a girl with a video camera" some 20 years ago, and now insists the only way to go is to control your own distribution. George Lucas is pretty sure where things are headed too: check out the interview with Lucas over atThe Wall Street Journal.

Great New Look! Great New Flavour!

The grand dame of doubts in the digital revolution continues to be how DIY filmmakers can recoup their investments in their films and even make money. That is, in the giant glut of one billion bad home-made movies, how can the more capable, creative filmmakers fight their way through the long tail and maybe even pay the rent! Currently, the online revenues from video sites like Revver just don't add up to much. Even the truly viral videos (hundreds of thousands of views and up) might bring the filmmaker 30 or 40 thousand bucks. Not bad for a three minute short made in your basement. But they're the notable exception, rather than the rule. And it's still not a model for returning investment on quality (and more expensive) narrative films online.

Enter the big boys, like NBC or Sony, who will finance content to penetrate the rapidly growing online media marketplace--they have the muscle, track records and connections to sell ads on their sites, even if for the time being they see their online endeavors as loss-leaders (i.e., they simply want a toe-hold in the "mobile content" game).

But my gut has told me for some time that the DIY filmmaker--the truly indie artist making movies with sheer force of will and talent--can just as easily access ad dollars. It might not be money from Coca Cola, but maybe it's money from an up-and-coming local designer who will give you $5000 to prominently feature their clothing label in your movie. Or a regionally produced wine which gets significant "product placement" in your film--hey that regional wine producer might just kick in money if everyone on-screen gets shitfaced exclusively on the company's identifiably unique plonk. Well, it's starting to happen with upper-level indie projects. I foresee the same when savvy DIY filmmakers start to pound the pavement looking for private money. Check out this article from the LA Times wherein Lorena Muñoz writes:

In what could be the latest trend in the financing of independent films, Unilever brand Dove has agreed to invest $3 million — about one-fifth of the budget — into "The Women," the first theatrical movie by Diane English, the creative force behind the hit television series "Murphy Brown." Gatorade, the sports drink maker, quietly put up $3 million for the production of "Gracie," a story about a girls soccer team that is coming out this weekend.

"With low-budget movies you have to have different ways to create marketing efficiencies and leverage your ability to fund them," said Andrew Shue, producer of "Gracie." He said the seed money from Gatorade enabled him to raise an additional $7 million from a hedge fund. "This is absolutely something in the future for these kinds of movies that are smaller budget and under the studio threshold."

In an era where good content is immediately duplicated and torrented online, the prospects of selling individual DVDs to recoup investment dwindles more by the hour. There has to be a way to derive revenue from viral pirating, and the only way so far seems to be embedding the ads right into the content itself. Even episodic television traded online gets the ads deleted by the copiers, reducing the value of those ads to the ever-eroding traditional television delivery model. So, the ads must be inextricable from the content. And that is product placement--a concept that has invoked outrage in the past, with fears it might lead to some degradation of the integrity of the artistic product. But product placement already happens--from James Bonds' Omega wristwatch (cannily chosen over a Rolex in the last movie installment) to the choice of Jason Bourne's getaway vehicle. On a smaller scale, the DIY filmmaker can find like-minded "sponsors" who will be happy to see the filmmaker's movie "stolen" a million times around the world. Each act of piracy is another eyeball getting acquainted with the advertiser's product.

Rapid Pace of Change Means I Need To Take More Showers

Been rather busy as we near financing of a new mobile content series I created and which I'll be writing and directing. Having come from the world of television, it's an interesting exercise in taking those "old world" skills and translating them to new technologies. Certainly, shorter content suits my attention deficity nature. I really do love perfectly contained little stories. I could never write War and Peace. I do not have the "sitting power."

Anyhow, if the series goes ahead, I'll be blogging more regularly to chart the process and evolution. Right now, all I can say is many of the bigger players and broadcasters now have a hunger to get into mobile content. Boys aren't watching TV anymore. Well, neither am I, frankly, and I can only conclude that there's just one reason girls are still holding out with traditional Boob Tube rather than YouTube, and it's simply that technology is not a girl thing. As soon as the technology is fully integrated into a Boob Tube like interface (uh, point remote and click), then I expect more sisters to abandon conventional cable and satellite too.

Technological change is a tsunami, bearing down on us with landscape-changing consequences. I'm seeing it all around me, including right here in the cafe where I type this. Apparently my shitty neighborhood that no one wanted to live in five years ago is now a fashion mecca. It happened while no one was looking. I'm now surrounded by white people with glossy laptops and too perfect noses talking about vacation homes in San Miguel and it makes me sad, because it looks like I'll have to start showering before I leave the house. Or maybe I'll just move.

Love,

Helena

Acting Like A Pro

I want to talk about being a "pro" within the wild, wild west that is the digital revolution. Because while all the rules of media creation and delivery are being rewritten, my fear is that some of the valuable lessons learned in the trenches of traditional media creation are being left behind.

Certainly, the new world of digital creation pays less. At least so far. And it allows new, untried talents, as well as untried producers, to bust into the otherwise closed shop of the movie biz. But what inevitably accompanies this new, exciting, "anything-goes" philosophy is a tendency to throw out (or never learn to begin with) some of the processes that have helped deliver solid film and TV content for decades.

Hollywood has honed certain rules of procedure in order to maintain a powerfully effective (if sometimes dangerous) machine. For example, there are good reasons for many of the rules within the Hollywood script development process, and many of them should continue to apply within the decidedly un-Hollywood filmmaking world that is now emerging thanks to new technologies. In fact, as a DIY independent, you have a chance to not only do what Hollywood does right but also to avoid all the B.S. that Hollywood does wrong. Because Hollywood is also a machine with some worn out, oily cylinders.

So, in the interests of starting fresh, and speaking from my experience working within and without the "Hollywood system," I wanted to give some advice to independents setting out to make their digital masterpiece. Indeed, it's advice I think many Hollywood insiders too often disregard. But let's show 'em how we can do it a little better. We can have more fun and make good movies without 'em. And we'll start with some advice on giving notes to your writer. Or at least, advice on the notes not to give your writer.

Giving notes to a writer is a precarious business. You want your writer to deliver something exceptional. A great script is going to be the foundation of most great movies (I say most because there are freakish exceptions, but it's widely accepted that if it's not there on the page it's probably not going to be in your movie). In short, the screenplay is one of the fundamental building blocks to a good film. Treat it with the deference it deserves. Treat the process with the deference it deserves too. Assuming you've hired a good writer rather than a bad writer--there are more bad writers out there by far--then I want to make this the first of several posts about how to work with that good writer (who will still deliver "flawed" scripts by the way, and your job is to help make it the best it can be). My fundamental philosophy is that just because we're flying by the seat of our pants doesn't mean that my digital indie collaborators cannot function as professionally and with as much savvy as the pros in Hollywood.

I debated about putting together a long list of "good note-giving" versus "bad note-giving" techniques, but it would have taken me a month to write it, and this blog was already getting stale. So I thought I'd mete out these bon mots one at a time, as they came to me. I've certainly seen my share of good and bad notes, having written my fair share of good and bad scripts. So here goes:

#1 SCRIPT NOTE NOT TO GIVE YOUR SCREENWRITER: THE FLASH OF PRE-EXISTING GENIUS

This gets to be number one because it's my least favorite script note of all time. It demoralizes the writer and makes the note-giver look like an idiot. The Flash of Pre-Existing Genius is essentially a note wherein the note-giver (let's call him the "producer" for now) reads the writer's script (heck, let's call her the "writer") and the producer has a good idea for a script-change. Actually, it's a really great idea for a script-change, in this case a change to a scene, and he's sure it will make the whole thing work so much better. Sounds good so far.

The writer listens intently as the producer proceeds to describe precisely what he thinks the scene needs to really kick ass. And the writer agrees. It's a really good idea. It's fantastic. So how can that possibly be a bad note? Because in this case, the producer has actually given a note that describes exactly what's already in the freakin' script. You don't think that can happen? I tell you it happens more often than I can count. I have concluded that a couple of things could be going on here. Maybe the writer has written something with some subtlety. Too much subtlety obviously, because the producer has just read the damned thing, and he's clearly ingested the gist of it because he's reiterating it now apparently convinced it's just been birthed from his own imagination, completely failing to recognize that he was led to this idea because it's already there on the page (only perhaps subtly so). The other possibility is that the producer is a reader with such a short attention span that he actually forgot that he just finished reading the idea and then it occurs to him moments (days?) later and he assumes it's his own. Kind of like that poor guy in Memento who can't keep a thought in his head for more than a few minutes before it's gone. I'm convinced some producers have this problem, because they will give this sort of note repeatedly.

So, it might seem very simply corrected, right? It shouldn't be such a big deal, because the writer can just point out to the producer that it's already there on the page. That indeed the guy with the spot of blood on his shirt collar might be like, oh, I dunno, a bad guy (gee, what was the first clue). But the problem I have is that the note undermines the writer's trust in the producer. The producer is either dumb or inattentive or dismissive or, worst yet and still possible, sociopathic. Basically the producer is "stealing" the writer's ideas as his own. Okay, admittedly that's paranoid, but the point is that the process is undermined at least a little bit by this annoying note. The crux of it is that the producer isn't even asking himself whether the writer has actually led him there. The producer isn't giving the writer any credit for leading him to this "great idea," which even if it's not on the page or is only on the page too subtly, the producer should recognize that the genesis of his "flash of brilliance" was still the script itself.

The point of good note giving is to establish a trust between writer and producer. To preserve the writer's energy to deliver a better draft next round, not to exhaust her with notes that re-iterate ideas already present in the script. (Can you tell I hate this kind of note?) Ultimately, it just always shocks me that this kind of note is given so often. It must be human nature--any good idea must be ours and ours alone, right? I've seen people do it in writing rooms often enough: adopting an idea they heard moments ago as though they'd only just suddenly thought it up themselves. Something about our brains filter out the ideas of others, and we file them away, retrieving them later as our own. I've written whole scripts only to realize that some movie I saw as a kid was the long-forgotten precursor of it.

So what can you as a note-giver do to avoid it? Because surely it's unintentional. I simply suggest that you try to remain aware that your flash of brilliance might already be in there. Think about what led you to this idea and give some credit for the source of it. Acknowledge that the scene might already be heading in that direction. Look before you leap. You'll save face and your writer will proceed with more trust and vigor.

Stay tuned for the next NOTE NOT TO GIVE YOUR SCREENWRITER. Coming soon...

Old Fogie Superstars and Other True Tall Tales

A heated debate rages over at Craig Mazin'sThe Artful Writer. Definitely worth reading Craig's thought-provoking article about why age might just matter a little bit in the screenwriting business (he's really just wondering whether the alleged Hollywood bias towards writers under 40 could even be somewhat justified). He makes some good, if contentious, points. Hey, the hallmark of a good blog post--and indeed of a good writer--is the ability to elicit a reaction, and Craig Mazin has certainly managed that. I'll let you decide whether he's right or not. But there's one thing most of the indignant comments on Artful Writer are forgetting: the biases and preconceptions of Hollywood are mitigated at least somewhat by the fact we now have unprecedented power to prove them wrong.

So you're a black girl. Or an old man. Fact is, if you really are the best writer and you're 60 but Hollywood wants the hack who's 25, then prove it. Write the script and shoot it. Or write the script and get it into the hands of an ambitious director who will shoot it, because there are more directors looking for stellar material than ever in history. Prejudice, where it truly exists, is wrong. Immoral. Abhorrent. And ever-present. We must be vigilant in our watch for it, but that shouldn't stop you from also proving them wrong by accomplishing the very thing everyone thought you couldn't do. No one should be excluded from money and power based on race, sex, sexuality or age...but obviously we are. I say fuck 'em and make your movie anyway!

My blog tends to re-hash the same philosophy, but I'll keep doing so until we're all on the same page: the digital revolution means that no matter who you are or where you're from, you don't need Hollywood to make your movie. And I for one really do believe that some little old lady somewhere is going to pick up a camera and deliver something astounding. It's just a matter of time. It will be rarer, however, for some of the reasons Craig Mazin points out: stamina, fearlessness and ambition often wane with age. But even if it's an often-accurate generality, it isn't a universal truth.

And hey, we all know that hype can be a powerful tool in the movie-making equation--the "mainstream media" loves to hype the latest 19-year old wunderkind. But haven't we heard that story enough times already? Don't you think the first super cool movie shot by some old lady residing in a seniors' home will make for even MORE sensational press? I do. Black lesbian senior citizen dwarves of the world take heed--I want to watch your awesome movie! Shoot it and make me proud!

Lock Her Up!

Okay, so I read online that the new Spider-Man 3 trailer is up. I click the link, which takes me to--no surprise here--YouTube. Lots of trailers end up on YouTube, because with 100 million videos served up daily, it's great for advertising. But lo and behold, the Spider-Man 3 trailer isn't there. Instead I get a banner that reads: "This video is no longer available due to a copyright claim by Sony."

We're talking about a movie trailer here. And the fact that Sony is pulling it from YouTube viewers is interesting and distressing both. Because it's ADVERTISING right? That's what a trailer is. It's to raise hype and awareness. The more folks who see your "advertisement" the better. That's why a 30-second spot on the Super Bowl broadcast costs a fortune. So here I'm actually LOOKING for the stupid Spider-Man trailer and Sony has pulled it because it violates their copyright. Something really weird is going on here.

I suppose trailers have become a form of "entertainment" in and of themselves. But that doesn't change the fact that they're ads, even if they're enjoyable. So Sony clearly wants to control where their ad gets seen. And that just flies in the face of everything that advertising is traditionally about. It's downright bizarre. But above all else it demonstrates just how the studios are turning into Nervous Nellies when confronted with the prospect of Internet distribution. Like they're shouting, "Can you all just slow down a minute until we figure out how to extract every last dollar from your wallet?" They know Internet distribution is worth money, even if no one knows precisely how to get the real gold out of them thar hills. But they know it's there, and I think they're panicking, and pulling their fucking ads for copyright violations as a result.

Okay, and then I get this scary email from my Internet provider. Apparently I violated copyright by downloading an episode of Heroes...which is freely available for download from NBC. But I downloaded it from BitTorrent. I think my key mistake was to leave it freely available for upload. Normally, if I pilfer something, I try not to contribute to the avalanche of piracy by continuing to upload it for other people. I'm a selfish bitch. I do want my video now, and on demand. But I'm not going to risk anything in order for you to get it too. Not yet. Not until it's legal. (Oh, and yeah, like you don't have a single downloaded MP3 file on your computer--or how about those hot pictures squirreled away in weirdly named folders on your laptop? Did you pay the photographer and model for the rights to copy and save that picture? It's all a violation of somebody's copyright somewhere.) Anyhow, the thing is I thought that sharing this Heroes episode was not a big deal. In fact I thought it was legal, because NBC itself was offering it for free download. And the only reason I downloaded it myself was so that I could catch up on this highly serialized show (i.e., you sorta need to know what's already happend to get into it) so I could start watching it on--you guessed it--NBfuckingC! And yet I'm getting nasty warnings from Universal. It's just getting all so weird. Like on the one hand it's becoming part of the popular culture to download stuff--that's just undeniable, regardless of the moral arguments--while on the other hand folks like Universal are trying to limit where and when I can download the very thing I need to get interested in their show. (It's a great show by the way. Highly addictive. And a great way that drug dealers grow their business is to offer good deals on crack so you get fucking hooked. You keep coming back for more.)

I know NBC/Universal fear losing revenue from downloading. For good reason. But I think they're missing the opportunity of a lifetime. Embed some advertising in the show itself, either by way of "bugs" (those litle floaty things in the corner of your screen that say things like NBC, or CNN, but which can just as easily say "Purina" or "Toyota") or embed product placement right in the show itself, then watch it go viral. Again, like the trailier for Spider-Man 3, you WANT viewers. Because the more viewers you have, no matter how they're getting it, the more you can sell your show to advertisers.

It's certainly the craziest of good times. See y'all in jail.

Peace.

Some Guy At The New York Times Knows Some Stuff!

And so, in the immortal words of Ali G: "Check it!"

The One Million Channel Universe

Case in point--and it's cool: ToonBreak is a new internet "channel" featuring hand-picked animated shorts, and the whole thing is underpinned by a concerted mandate to ensure the animators make money from their work. How refreshing!

Founded by Shawn McInerney, an animator himself with over a decade in the business, ToonBreak is the kind of endeavor I want to see go viral. Because fact is, if he's getting rich, it means a lot of artists from the fringes are making real money from their work too. I'll keep saying it: talent will out. And now a bit in McInerney's own words:

ToonBreak provides a constantly updated selection of cool animated videos. We sift through the web's massive jumble of content to bring you the most entertaining cartoons. Our system of channels, tags, and search make it easy to find the cartoons you like.

We also help animators earn revenue from their cartoons. Animators earn revenue from video ads, text and banner ads, donations, and merchandising. If you've created some cool original cartoons and would like to take part in our revenue sharing program, please submit your work.

Piracy is Good: How BitTorrent Killed TV and Why Filmmakers Should Love it

You'll often witness creative types like us wringing our hands over the threat that piracy poses to our livelihoods. The landscape is changing so quickly, none of us are entirely sure how it will all settle out, and one thing we obviously wonder is how the Industry will be able to pay writers and filmmakers if content continues to be stolen online. Surely if every TV show and movie is pirated, the economic model falls apart and we can't pay for little Susie's braces (and she has really ugly teeth).

I'm an advocate of the digital revolution and online distribution, and so I too wondered how this could all jive with a business model that would make me and my talented sisters and brothers rich(er). Thankfully, the clouds have parted and it's actually coming clear. It's not only possible, it's actually probable. In fact, we creators should want piracy, because in short order piracy will be putting more money directly into our pockets. You see, it's the broadcasters who don't want piracy--because piracy is going to kill them, at least when it comes to selling ads on dramas and comedies. So how is piracy going to make us richer? Well it's going to put distribution in our hands, and it's going to put advertising money directly into our pockets (rather than into broadcasters' pockets, who then trickle down pennies on the dollar to the people who make their programs). Click here to listen to a most interesting lecture on how all this is likely to work
(as told in 7 parts on YouTube by digital provocateur Mark Pesce). Or you can download the BitTorrent here, courtesy of Mark Pesce himself (so rest assured you ain't stealin' nothin' he doesn't want you to have).

Hollywood's Crack

From Variety.com: ITunes has cracked open to independent video producers for the first time.Apple's digital content store on Tuesday started selling 'That,' a snowboarding action pic made for DVD by Forum Snowboards. Move reps the first time iTunes has sold video content that didn't come from an established network, studio or distributor.Though the Mac maker wouldn't comment on future plans, the deal with Forum indicates iTunes will selectively sell video outside of its high-profile deals with companies like Disney, NBC and Lionsgate. (Anyone can distribute video podcasts for free on iTunes.)Given iTunes' dominance in the nascent digital download market, that's sure to generate hordes of interest among independent film producers in all genres who don't have a distributor.

Get Tech!

Okay all you talented finger-painters, it's time to do your math homework. I know you hate it, because you're an artist. You dream poetry and imagine the apocalypse and it's your vast, unlimited creativity that will turn you into world famous filmmakers. Who cares about math? I'm here to tell you that it's you who should care.

Now, I don't mean math homework exactly; in fact, by math I mean all the "tech" stuff that we creative writers and dreamers try to avoid in filmmaking: the geeky nuts and bolts of computers and digital camera equipment, the world of firewire cables and HDMI connectors, and those incomprehensible details about color space and bit depth and resolution and RAID storage. It's complex and overwhelming and you think that surely it is the domain of nerds with neither a story to tell nor good taste. But I'm here to tell you that you're avoiding your homework at your own peril. This is a revolution, and things are changing fast. It's both a more democratic place (you too can make a movie) and a more competitive one (everyone can make a movie). The tools are in your hands--or down the street at your computer shop. It's time to dig in and get your slender, sensitive fingers dirty.

In order to fully exploit the power of the digital revolution you have to know how to do it all. You have to empower yourself with all that tech knowledge, now widely available for free on the Internet, so that nobody can say "no, we're not financing your movie"--because you'll simply make the movie yourself. You won't be hiring people to do your tech. Not only will you be unable to afford it, you'll discover that the art is the tech, too. The tech is a painter's brush and writer's pen. The tech is magic in the hands of a truly inspired creative person. It's precisely your aversion to the tech that makes you different from the geek. The geek probably can't write or paint or act. He can't learn it either--I believe that creativity is simply a natural talent. But you already have creative talent, right? Good. Because you definitely can learn to geek out. It's science and math. There are right answers! Imagine--it can actually be something of a relief for an artist to discover that sometimes there are right answers, because the fog of artistic creation and the concomitant doubts can be grueling.

You're still resisting? You're thinking that world famous filmmakers make it on their creativity alone. Certainly it's happened before. I'd say that's how it happened for people like Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Road to Perdition)--he was a talented theatre director. He doesn't do math (at least I expect he doesn't). He imagines the mise en scene and all sorts of minions make it real. We've all seen the directors in those DVD extras running around approving storyboards and nodding their heads at lighting set-ups and pointing at a computer screen so an editor can "make it so." But that was then. This is now. And you probably haven't directed Judi Dench in a stage play, so it's unlikely anyone will let you direct your movie because of your "wonderful way with actors." You won't point at the computer screen so the editor will make it so. You will be the editor. And don't expect someone to walk in your door and "show you how." This is where you have to prove your commitment to this crazy craft that is making movies.

I get those calls. From other artists who are watching in stunned amazement as I--this cute, hot, stacked babe and a writer no less--can now sit at an edit suite and deliver a cut with the best of them. I can add effects and mix sound. I can troubleshoot hardware and set up my own lights. And now these artists I know are calling me and asking me how they too can make their own movie. Because they have this great script, see--because they're writers--and no one is offering to make it, and well...how can I show them how to do what I do. Frankly, it's irksome, and I get a little sad, because I want my fellow writers and artists to join the digital revolutionary army. But they're expecting to skip basic training. They want to be colonels before they've even done a few jumping jacks. All I can say is, you have the Internet and a library card. GO DO IT. I'll answer questions. Lots of people will. Heck, there are web forums filled with people far more knowledgeable than I am who inexplicably lurk online waiting to answer your baffling technical questions. No one will make it happen but you.

The tech is intimidating. Trust me, that is something that you will use to your advantage, because the old-guard of film and TV doesn't understand it either. They HIRE geeks to understand it. Become both the geek and the artist and you have power. The kind of power that even the old-guard can recognize. But you're going to use this power for yourself and your brothers and sisters, not for the old-guard. You're going to use this power for good. You're going to make your movie your way. And we're going to watch it and wonder how you did it.

Writers Are Doin' It for Themselves

I ain't vouchin' for this product. In fact, I have a certain disdain for every single book, DVD and gimmick being sold to writers and filmmakers to "help them make it in the business." But what I do like is that it's reflective of how writers are starting to think! This from the exploiters over at Creative Screenwriting Magazine:

DIY: Do It Yourself

5 DVDs ON TRANSITIONING FROM WRITER TO AUTEUR
$89.95 (click here to order)

The DIYpak is a 5-DVD course on greenlighting your own script. You have four months to get your screenplay ready for a Summer shoot – use the DIYPak to make the most of this time.

Learn from producer's rep Jeff Dowd about Concept Creation, Marketing, and Distribution. Other DVDs cover Film Financing, Crafting a Killer Ending, Creating Powerful Movie Scenes, and the Sequence Structure for Successful Movies (employed by Pixar).

MY LAST WORD (because I always have the last word): frankly I would save your money and buy a book on Final Cut Pro. You will only write your script by writing your script--no DVD box-set will help you there, really. But you can learn how to edit your film once you've shot it. Go team.

The Lazy Girl's DIY Blog Post on DIY Film Distribution

The "digital revolution" is rapidly evolving to encompass DIY film distribution. In fact, self-distribution will undoubtedly be even more important to the growth of artist-controlled filmmaking than the new technologies that allow for the creation of such films. Hey, YouTube is basically a form of self-distribution, and we're seeing how that's shaking up the traditional TV delivery world. Anyhow, be sure to check outthis great post from over at Drifting: A Director's Log, which says so much so nicely, why should I say it again? Here's a snippet:


The holy grail of independent filmmaking was, and generally still is, an acquisition deal, a theatrical release, and a subsequent industry-financed career. In some cases, that initial independence was a means to an inverse end; more commonly, though, that same end was (and is) a means unto itself, a manner of making a living off one's chosen art form in the most practical way possible. This category would include most of the current indie wunderkinds (the two Andersons, Aronofsky, etc). The practicality of their circumstance, of course, is mitigated by the relative infrequency of such success stories; but nonetheless, those stories are the ideal for many aspiring (and, indeed, practicing) independent filmmakers.

Let's consider, however, the sum of the following:

1. The very rarity of those cases.
2. The fact that, when they do occur, the balance of capitalism and artistic freedom renders the studio system a very wealthy middleman.
3. The possibility that the studio system is indeed crumbling [1] under the weight of its own hegemonic inflexibility and hubristic marginalization of product - its “death spiral,” as Edward Jay Epstein put it. [2]

That last factor may be a bit hyperbolic; Hollywood, being the capital driven machine it is, will more than likely maintain its hold on the entertainment industry; even as it evolves, its goals will remain the same. [3] Still, between digital pipelines, day-and-date DVD and theatrical releasing, etc, it is hard to deny that a paradigm shift is at hand; and it might be a good time for independent filmmakers to consider whether or not that lofty ideal of yore need endure. In other words, should filmmakers be afraid of self-distribution?

A good read. A foretelling of the future.

Film Festivals Are Just So Analog

With all that annoying Sundance mania finally over with for the year, it seems like a good time to provide some healthy perspective on the relevance (or irrelevance, more appropriately) of film festivals. Because make no mistake, there's a rapidly growing consensus among many filmmakers that festivals have outlived their usefulness.

Originally, events like Sundance and the Toronto International Film Festival provided the only route for independent movies to find an audience. Festivals offered the sole venue where a movie made outside the Hollywood system could generate some press and find a distributor, which was in turn the only means to finding a market and making back some money. There was just no other way that a little movie from Arkansas made by an unknown actor who looked like a cancer-stricken muppet would see the light of day. Ah, but how things have changed in the decade since "Sling Blade" premiered at Sundance.

Based on the incredible proliferation of these events, one might assume that film festivals are more relevant than ever--there are literally thousands of film festivals across the world, some specializing in specific genres and others simply claiming to be the next Cannes or Toronto or Berlin or Rotterdam or Sundance or Slamdance or...you get the idea. The advent of the digital "movie camera" has generated a glut of new films looking for audiences, and greedy opportunists abhor a vacuum: the new film festivals bred like rabbits to satisfy the need, collectively raking in millions of dollars in entry fees from struggling artists in the process. Yes, many of these film festivals are legitimate--they take your hard-earned money with the best of intentions (while offering you nothing in return if they decide your self-financed film isn't "good enough" after watching it for all of 30-seconds). But lots are licences for a few folks to make money by capitalizing on artists' hard work and dreams. And keep in mind that most of the movies that screen at the top festivals still don't even find distribution, as they viciously compete for the all-important buzz.

Still, the problem with even the most reputable festivals is compounded by the fact that so many films accepted for screening find their way there through clubby connections--usually Hollywood clubby connections--resulting in programmes that don't really offer the audiences that "something different," the exotic "I-can't-believe-I-just-got-to-see-that" type of film, the kind of film Hollywood would never make. The line between the "indie" movie and the studio film has become very blurry indeed; so much so that the term "indie" itself is widely regarded as almost meaningless. Which is why many of us prefer the moniker of "DIY filmmaker" rather than "indie filmmaker." "Do It Yourself" filmmaking means just that; whereas "indie filmmaking" means Gwynneth Paltrow cut her salary because she doesn't need another mansion in Malibu.

I guess we can't really blame these festivals for being victims of their own success. The Weinsteins and other Hollywood heavyweights want that platform of a prestigious Sundance premiere, and they're gonna get it. These movies are generally good too. But hey, why see it at a festival when it's going to get released in two hundred theatres across the country six weeks from now. The most original stuff--the stuff that needs to be discovered--is not finding its way to these festivals. And don't just take my word for it. This is what Richard Corliss had to say in a recent Time Magazine article:

You don't find as much originality in Sundance films these days, and for a simple reason. In the beginning, the festival was a home for the homeless, for a rambunctious outlaw take on filmmaking. There was no need to be cautious, since indie films were rarely hits. But as Sundance became the showcase for a form of movie gaining marketplace pull, young directors naturally made films to fit the new mold.... Trying to get your intellectual fill with Sundance films is like choosing homemade popcorn over the concession-stand variety: higher quality, little nourishment.

You can also get a sense of what the grass-roots of DIY filmmakers feel about festivals like Sundance from someone like Steve Balderson ("Firecracker") on his MySpace page where he's written an article called "The Sundance Disease":

The first cases were diagnosed in Los Angeles, leading the CDC to theorize that neither Robert (Redford) nor Park City, Utah, was the source of The Disease. I interviewed a Studio Executive suffering from The Disease. Said individual stated, "You are nothing unless your film is shown at Sundance. If you aren't at Sundance, you must not be a real filmmaker." All other research indicates that most films "accepted" into Sundance have, in one way or another, been financed, produced, or planned by a company in The Industry.

What happens to the real independent film? What happens if one doesn't surrender? The same thing that happens to people in our culture that don't fit the mold! They are exiled! They are called freaks! Which reminds me of the scene in FREAKS: "One of US! One of US!"

Another filmmaker on MySpace says, These days, I would avoid film festivals like the plague. They have evolved into cash cows for the organizers, and filmmakers are getting ripped off with ridiculous entry fees.

Hey, getting a rejection hurts, and making films is largely about rejection. But it's not just fox and the grapes disparagement here. Festivals simply cannot accommodate all the films that should be seen, and as a result often end up accommodating the films they know will get stars on their red carpet which helps the fest's profile in a hotly competitive festival marketplace. Toronto wants to stay number one. And Sundance wants to be the hottest "indie" festival too. I've seen some incredible films that I know were rejected by Sundance. I also know these rejections devastated the filmmakers, as if Sundance alone can determine the filmmaker's worth. I reviewed one such film in this blog: the incredibly innovative Cavite. The directors admit in their own commentary track that the rejection from Sundance was crushing. But their movie should be seen. It's truly a piece of DIY art, and a significant account of a specific time and place. These filmmakers are important to the evolution of cinema, whether Sundance has room for them or not.

In the end, the most comelling reason why I say film festivals are "just so analog"--the reason why I believe they've served their purpose and why they'll probably become less relevant to innovative, groundbreaking cinema while continuing to offer a good party where where you can drink with Julianne Moore--is because the digital revolution (specifically online distribution and promotion) allows the DIY filmmaker to achieve the same intended results as a festival. Rather than paying money to get a few minutes of your movie screened by a selection committee, filmmakers are discovering that if their movie really is any good, they can self-distribute the film online and on DVD. A case in point: we're starting to hear a lot about a little self-financed movie called "Four Eyed Monsters", which is really getting noticed via online marketing and downloads, despite its self-admitted failure at festivals. This is what the filmmakers had to say in a recent issue of Wired Magazine: "Festivals are a dead end. We've found a different way." You can hear more from the "Four Eyed Monster" folks in a podcast from The Workbook Project.

Or read up on The Angry Filmmaker who espouses DIY distribution and eschews festivals in general.

Or check out a website like www.withoutabox.com to (1) get a sense of just how many thousands of festivals are out there, and (2) read the forums which increasingly reveal a dissatisfaction regarding what festivals can do for us as artists and filmmakers.

Yes, I'll admit, I'd like to hang out with Sarah Polley while my next movie screens at Sundance too. Who wouldn't? But the key to remember is that if my next movie doesn't make it there, I might be able to generate just as much success regardless. My career no longer depends on it. And my bet (I'm always making bets on this blog), in 5 years, festivals will not be the place where we discover the next "Sling Blade."

Cavite

Pronounced ca-vi-té, it's the name of a small town in the Phillipines. It's also the title of one incredibly innovative, psychologically sophisticated and brilliantly resourceful digital feature shot almost entirely in that country. I've mentioned in this blog that (a) digital technology will generate a new wave of filmmakers, (b) you can make movies anywhere, and (c) you can make movies, period. Cavite easily proves these points.

Shot on a shoe string, using some incredibly simple guerilla "work-arounds" and ambient light (heck, it even uses "ambient actors"!), with the two filmmakers doubling as cast and crew, this little film exhibits enough production values to elevate "video footage" into a full-fledged cinematic experience. It's substance first and style second (though it does certainly have a consistent and effective style). If you want to make digital features, you owe it to yourself to get a hold of the DVD, just to see what smart filmmakers can pull off when they set their minds to it. Yes, I'll admit the movie lags a bit in the middle, but it starts well, and it achieves almost pitch-perfect emotional realism. Oh, and the final act is truly worth the wait in terms of emotional storytelling.

It's a movie Hollywood would never make. And as small as it is, my bet would be on this film surviving 100 years from now (as a testament to a very specific time and place) over any of the big studio movies I've seen lately.

We Are Not Alone

Or at least I'm not anyhow. I devoted this blog to ruminations about a digital revolution. I'm convinced that artists will come out holding the reins of content in the long run. And just when I start to wonder if I'm wrong--that big studio control is here to stay for my lifetime--I read words like this:

At the moment, the smart money may be going small budget. Just recently, wealthy individuals, pooling their money in hedge funds, have begun setting up deals not with studios but with successful producers like Joel Silver and producer-directors like Ivan Reitman. The production money will go to genre films—thrillers and comedies and horror pictures—in the low-budget (about twenty-million-dollar) range. John C. Malone, the chairman of Liberty Media Corporation, is opening his own studio to make movies on a similar scale. Some of these pictures will undoubtedly be routine, but the relatively low stakes could also allow producers to hire writers and directors who are willing to do more daring work, the way B-movie directors, toiling quietly on back lots, did sixty years ago.

Films made fast and cheap in this way would still need studio distribution and marketing, but once the theatres go digital that may no longer be true. Distribution is the key to freedom. In the future, what is to stop a group of producers, directors, and writers from forming a coöperative, raising money for a slate of films, and hiring non-studio distribution and promotion people to get the movies to digitized theatres—liberating themselves at last?

Check the full article over at The New Yorker.