Filmmaking – Upside Down & Inside Out

The Stuff of Our Lives

May 27th, 2010

What’s a filmmaker’s most important tool? That essential thing we have to have no matter what else…?

I asked that question in various groups and online forums and several hundred answers came in. Of course, the best tool depends on the work at hand, so even while many were job-specific, most seemed to be basic and surprisingly universal.

  • No doubt smart phones would have topped the list if they hadn’t been excluded. They’re still so pervasive that a few slipped through as the tool of choice, either stated or implied.

…other than my phone, my best tool is….

It replaced my laptop, my camera, my video camera, my Avid, my GPS, my LA411, my Thomas Guide and my bottle opener. Can’t use it as a Leatherman or Gaffer’s tape yet…. Oh well, nothing is perfect.

  • Software was mentioned most often. Whether on a computer or in the cloud, it included programs for production (budgeting, scheduling, writing, presenting, organizing) and instant messaging (Skype and others) and social networking (Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn). (12.9%)

Nothing worse in a strange town than having no idea where to get a decent meal.

I moved online and freed my company from the IT burden.

• A close second was the computer itself. I suspect that it’s not really the machines we love, but all the software tools they hold. Those two categories – computers and software – we’re far and away the top choices. (11.2%)

The knowledge of the universe is no further away than a mouse click.

I can even live without my phone. Yes I said it; I can. But my laptop is my life – can’t leave home without it.

Our addiction to technology aside, some of the best picks were surprisingly practical, every day hand tools.

  • The Multi-tool, whether it was a Gerber, Leatherman or Swiss Army knife. (6.9%)

In terms of hardcore survival, this is the one thing I can’t be without.

  • Pencil, paper, pens and Sharpies were all emotional favorites, though often sloughed off as “old school.” (6.0%)

Nothing beats a pen and some paper to jot down a lead, a breakthrough, a to-do item.

DPs always get the coolest toys in their kit. I stopped trying to compete. So I beat them with low tech. A pencil and paper never break down.

  • Sound quality was a major issue for many, whether it was software, a home recording studio, the ideal microphone or careful planning for the session. (5.5%)

A great sound track will often blow a client away, more then visual effects.

I’ve won awards because my product sounded as good as it looked.

  • A brain and/or creativity (4.3%)

It’s what enables me to make do with what I have when what I have is not enough.

By far I use creativity more than any other object or attribute

Its battery never runs down

  • Cameras were popular. Some implied “the camera in my phone,” but others focused on stand-alone SLRs. (3.5%)

It goes wherever I go and I never leave home without it.

  • Many (including me) picked their GPS for location survival. (2.5%)

My other tools aren’t of much value if I can’t find the location….

  • Gaffers tape (or duct tape) was a frequent (and well-loved) nominee. (2.5%)

The world in general runs on gaffers tape….

It even fixed a leak in my car’s radiator….

  • Coffee was selected only once, but remained an unspoken essential. At least in my life. So it’s included.

…when the brain needs a morning jumpstart.

  • Patience, too, only made the list once, but it was implied frequently

My best tool, though l can’t always remember where I put it.

About 50% of the tools were one-ups and those were often the most interesting. Some were really surprising, too, good ideas I hadn’t thought of, but should have. The job at hand can be clearly seen in many of them. Most could be put to use by almost everyone.

  • 3 Hole Punch

Without it how would I organize all the POs & backup?

  • 5-Button Mouse

You wouldn’t believe how much more productive I get, how much better I stay on task when I can keep one hand on the mouse.

  • Airbrush

I’m a big fan of airbrush cosmetics for the HD market

  • Aluminum Clip Board
  • Business Cards

I’ve never met a business card I didn’t like!

  • Baby Wipes
  • Batteries

For all those mics….

  • Binder Clips

I use them for binding paper together (duh), holding callsheets, holding a hand mic or earwig, making a larger zipper tab that’s easier to grab with heavy gloves, keeping gloves, mittens, socks paired together, clipping the ends of rolled tubes of paper, a great cable tie, an impressive money clip, holding the skin on a stuffed turkey while roasting, temporary hem holder (while looking for duct tape), closing the end of a tube when it has a blow out, holding fine wires while soldering, pinching off tubing to stop the flow of whatever, temporary curtain hold back….

  • Bolt Cutters

When an employee who is supposed to open the parking lot has slept in, I simply cut the lock and get to my shoot on time.

  • Broadband Card
  • Call Sheet/Script Wallet
  • Car keys (spare set)
  • Canon i80 Printer

Love it. And it fits in my backpack.

  • Clothes Pins
  • Compass
  • Cooler

It holds water, sandwiches and snacks. It fits in the front seat of the car for easy access. There are side pockets where I can store an external hard drive without worrying about it getting hot in the car.

  • Day Timer

Keep it handy for notes and sketches. I guess my age is showing!

  • Ears

I listen to exactly what a person is saying because behind that language is pain, confidence, fear, love or a need for love. We are in the business of communication yet… The silence says everything.

  • Ear buds
  • First Aid Kit
  • iPad (and other tablet computers)

Actually, I increasingly find that the IPad has become an almost indispensable utility. Now, with the advent of the Movie Magic and Final Draft apps for the IPad it’s going to be almost impossible to go on recces and attend meetings without the blessed thing.

  • Keffiyah

Not just for wrapping around my neck or head, but to wrap delicate equipment in unforeseen circumstances, as a towel, a small camera bean bag, a pillow, a sun screen, great for diffusing strong light coming through unavoidable windows…. I thought the most obvious answer would be a roll of gaffer tape but my keffiyah has even been used to tie things together.

  • LA411

I wish every production city had its own 411.

  • Laser Range Finder

It’s saved my ass more than a few times. It’s nice to know when the trucks will really fit under that bridge with the missing clearance markings.

  • LED Camera Light

Runs on standard v-mount batteries and packs a lot of light in a small package. I take it everywhere.

  • Light Meters
  • Lists – Crew, Cast & Vendors, Call Sheets and To-Do Lists

Especially my old ones. With notes and numbers of hundreds of contacts.

  • McCallan’s 14
  • Mini Maglight

Always on my Belt Rig. Monitor Hood

  • Penny

Cheapest screwdriver EVER. Flat-head only, bit that’s what tripod screws are anyway.

  • Peter

The only person mentioned by name was “my coordinator and friend extraordinaire.” It seemed worth including as a reminder of how dependent we are on the colleagues around us.

  • Power Converter

To run a teleprompter or light from car’s cigarette lighter

  • Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
  • Road Cones
  • Rolling Measure
  • Scanner

Almost all production paperwork gets scanned into an Acrobat file. Makes storage & organization a breeze,
Makes everything easily transportable especially via e-mail.

  • Sketchbook

There is no better way to communicate a visual concept that visually. Even chicken-scratch drawings, the kind that emerge from my untrained hand, convey ideas quickly.

  • Socks

A nice clean pair of thick socks. All these electronic gadgets make our jobs easier, faster and more productive, but I can still do my job without them. After 12 hours on my feet with more to go however, it’s fresh socks!

  • Stopwatch
  • Tilley Hat
  • Turnpike Express Pass
  • Velcro
  • Whiteout

Tombo is the best made.

  • Wireless Headset
  • Work Gloves

All-leather are (sometimes) best, but at least they should have leather palms. Keeps your hands from getting chewed up/burned/etc.

  • Zip Ties / Cable Ties

And in our endlessly insane world, it all boils down to my single favorite. Okay, one of my favorites. Alright, it’s on my list. And yes, yes, it’s a very, very long list….

  • A Cup of Chamomile Tea and the Pocket Pema Chodron

Good for reminding me that oftentimes, what I need most is simply to be present in the moment.

All of this is perhaps summed up by an endlessly repeated chorus to almost every listing.

Good Lord. We (I) do carry a heap of equipment just to make things right.

You’ll find more comments (along with some of my personal favorites) in reelgrok’s reviews. When you need to add Production Knowhow to your kit, you’ll find the tools (and great discounts) in The GrokShop.

The DPs always get the coolest toys in their kit. I stopped trying to compete. So I beat them with low tech. A pencil and paper never break down.

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Posted by Norman in Filmmaking, Toolkit, Tools | 3 Comments »

The Business of Show

March 23rd, 2010

We all work in sales.

Alas, not many of us planned for that.  We prefer to think of ourselves as artists.  Artistes.  Or at the very least artisans.  We have studied, trained, fought and starved for our belief in the fine art of SHOW business.  Not many of us aimed for the sales department.

Right?

Wrong!

We all work in sales no matter our job or title.  Writers sell scripts to producers.  Directors sell their productions to actors and disbelieving DPs.  Producers sell to everyone – investors, directors, back to writers for the umpteenth rewrite, disbelieving editors….  (And everyone, turn by turn, sells their own visions right back to the director and producer.)

Fact is, we all sell all the time to everyone.  We’re all in show BUSINESS.  We all know that in our heart of hearts; we just don’t want to believe it.

Face it.  If you’re not selling, you’re not doing your job.  If you’re not good at selling your scripts, ideas, vision, passion, the odds are good that you’re out of work right now.  Want to work?  Accept your fate.

Time to toughen up.  They lied to you in film school.  Get over it and get to work.  Given that sales are a given for your survival, here are five steps to guide you.

  1. Know exactly who you’re talking to. The meeting is over if you begin, “Dear Sir and/or Madam….” Do your homework before you open your mouth.
  2. Understand the needs of the person you’re pitching.  If you can’t solve specific problems, move on.  No one wants more problems; people want solutions.
  3. Explain why you are the best choice.  (Or your film, idea, script, talent, whatever.)  Never, ever bash the competition; if you can’t stand on your own, move on.  Quickly.
  4. Believe in yourself and your project, completely and unalterably.  Anything less will come through like a grease stain on your best white shirt.
  5. Picture the results, not the process.  Never explain your film, never lay it out line by boring line.  Show the finished film with your words.  Share your vision.  You are, after all, a filmmaker.

There are more rules, of course, more guidelines.  But these five will stop the door from slamming against you on your way out.

One major thought worth noting.  You have, at most, five minutes to accomplish all this and make your sale.  No joke – five minutes. If you haven’t closed the deal by then, close the door on your way out. The meeting is over.

That’s not as hard as you think.

Consider how much information gets crammed into one thirty-second commercial.  You have ten times that to do the same.  The secret is the kind of precision and passion that comes from endless practice, deep belief and an overarching passion.

That and a very clear vision of your goal.

Now get out there and make the sale.

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Posted by Norman in Budget, Distribution, Film Ratings, Filmmaking, Hollywood, Networking, Pitch, Sales | No Comments »

Guess Who’s in Charge Now?

March 17th, 2010

I’d long since grown used to handing my films over to some faceless distributor who showered me with golden promises and called it rain.  Sometimes the magic worked, sometimes I was ripped off like a greenhorn.

Most times my film fell into a hole, where apparently the rabbit ate all the good, green stuff.

That steam model – distributor at the top, filmmaker at the bottom – has given rise to more nasty metaphors than any column could support.  For a long while, we had no choice.  But now social media has come marching in, toppling everything we thought we knew about distribution.  The high and mighty voice of The One has been replaced with the mumble of millions.

I have seen the future and it is good.

Old style distribution and its Rolodex have gone the way of the three-martini- lunch.  (Shame, that….) We don’t start our day with corn flakes and a copy of Variety anymore.

Our films are more likely seen on YouTube and Vimeo than screened at the Rialto or the Cineplex.  Our new distribution platform starts (or ends) with Xbox and PlayStation. We hold the new silver screen in the palm of our hands, our marketing focuses on Facebook and LinkedIn, our funding begins on IndieGoGo and KickStarter.  Tweet on.

With no one home behind our distributor’s World Wide door, we’re all left on our own.  Not only are we expected to grease the wheels, now we have to turn the crank, too.

We’re all strangers in this brave new land of DIY distribution.  Suddenly we have no one to blame for slow sales except ourselves.  I suppose it’s more democratic without elites behind the desk, but here we stand, naked, negotiating with ourselves.  There are no more scapegoats for all our woes.

Like it or not, ready or not, the future has arrived anyway.  Galumph, galumph, galumph…. Move along or it will stomp you down.

It’s time to come to grips with the new bugaboos (and heady power) of promotion and marketing and distribution.   Don’t know how to do that job?  That’s funny, because it’s NUMBER ONE on the list.

There are ten steps in all.  And we all have to take them, one by one, if we hope to have our movies seen.

  1. Surround yourself with pros who know how to handle tasks better than you.  If you’re the smartest person in the room, find another room.
  2. Know the audience for your show.  Work with specifics, not generalities.  See them, feel them, touch them.
  3. Plan your marketing and promotion.  Budget for every step of it.  Then budget more money.  Marketing is not a task for the feint-of-heart or the thin-of-wallet.
  4. Build a website that’s smarter than sunshine  and as seductive as a spider’s web.  Now stat the the task of luring your audience home.
  5. Start networking now.  Plan to tweet, blog, e-blast, post, teach, lecture or screen every day from now until you start your next film.  Film festival prizes are great, but courting the audience is even better.  Face time is much better than Facebook.
  6. If you’re not selling, you’re not doing your job.  Your job?  It’s to sell your script, sell your production, sell your ideas to your actors, sell your film to your audience.  Sell.
  7. Plan every step of your marketing and distribution before you start to make your movie.
  8. Think ROI, but understand that “profit” is measured in more ways than money.  Know exactly why your investors invested.  And what they want in return.
  9. Give away far more than you ever hope to sell.  If you don’t leave a trail of breadcrumbs, no one will follow you to your movie.
  10. Write a business plan that’s honest, complex and profound, insightful, exciting and seductive.  Make it as tenacious as a fishhook.  Let it seduce your investors, entice your audience and guide you into production.

Good luck.  We may all be alone now, but we’re all in this together.

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Posted by Norman in Budget, Distribution, Filmmaking, Hollywood, Networking, Reviews | 1 Comment »

Taught Another Class

March 6th, 2010

Taught another film class this past week, this one a killer. Eight straight hours of non-stop words.  My throat was raw from talking, my thumb numb from pushing the button to slide up to the next graphic, my feet sore from standing.

So why do I bother…?  Not fortune, for sure.  I’d make more sitting in the big chair, working the phones and running a film.  Nor fame.  Even if enthusiasm were really riches, there are limits to working the backroom at the software store.

Then why…?

Reason #1.  Good students make smarter teachers.

Happens every time I teach a class like this.  A hand shoots up or a voice shuts me up.  And someone asks something I’d never considered before.  And in an instant my whole world lights up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  I gain Insights I’ve never seen before, concepts I’ve never conceived before.

Good questions like that kick the rust out of the immovable parts of a brain and grease the gears to turn again.

After all, all work needs proofreaders.  Mistakes slip past us because brains are hard-wired to find meaning in everything.  Even phrases with missing vowls and newly minted words de void of meaning. It takes good questions to jostle the wisdom of established rules and regulations.  Whole societies have been created from moments like that.

So to the tall ones in the back of the room who stumped me, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Reason #2.  We teach or die.

Not personally of course, but still quite literally.  Unless we teach, we risk losing an entire generation of filmmakers.  We learn the rules at school, but our art and craft are hand-made and home-honed.  We need each other’s wisdom to smooth the long road to success.

Filmmaking is one of the few apprenticeship systems.  Think of the term, “bestboy.” It was (and still is) the smartest, hardest working kid in the long line of eager urchins hoping to learn from the gaffer (the set’s juiced old “grandfather”).  Or the Guild Trainee in training to the second 2nd AD who’s in training to the 2nd AD who’s in training to the 1st AD (who has his eyes on the Production Manger).

Let’s not get too carried away here.  No doubt filmmaking could survive without the last generation leading each new generation gingerly into the next.  But here’s the line on it.  it wouldn’t survive as well.  And OUR way of working (whatever that might be) would be lost forever.

That’s why we’re compelled to write books, teach classes, train newbies.  Selfishly, we’re trying to preserve our little pearls of wisdom.  Altruistically, we’re doing our damndest to assure the continuity of an entire industry.  Mind you, that’s the industry we’re hoping to build in our own image.  Our style, our way, our wisdom.

After all, someone taught our teachers.  And they made things their own before they passed their knowhow on to us.  And we invested a career to make their hand-me-down wisdom our own.

Then, from time to time, every once in a lucky day, we get the honor, the pleasure, the joy of passing good bits and tasty pieces on to another generation of filmmakers. And if we’re very good at it, someday they’ll pass it on, too.

That’s the trick.  We have to be really good at passing on everything we know or it will be lost forever.  So our own immortality depends on trying as hard as humanly possible.

Now how cool is that…?  Certainly worth the long day, sore throat, tired feet.  I figure I came out way, way, way ahead.

Damn, that was a fun day.

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Posted by Norman in Budget, Filmmaking, Teaching | No Comments »

My Minnesota Christmas

December 26th, 2009

We had a Minnesota Christmas this year. Or, at least, promises of one.

The weather gurus called for a foot of snow yesterday. With urgent warnings, threats, and dire predictions for up to two feet more overnight…. Hurry, get inside, the storm is coming, the storm is coming.

The natives were so excited. They went varooming up and down the streets, taking their four-wheel-drive manhood for test runs before the snow. A bit fell. More all around us, but here we got dusted with, oh, four or five inches. No matter, the four-wheelers varoomed back and forth.

Yesterday I cleared the driveway and the sidewalk with the snowblower. That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. My snowblower’s new power cable snapped, the victim of parts imported from the low-bidder. Spent three hours jury-rigging a patch that sort of makes the broken wire work again. Except that it’s now two feet shorter and I’m forced to imitate a hunchback in order to make it go. No matter. I hunker down. I’m ready for the BIG snow that’s coming.

By some perversion of the gods, the overnight temperatures go up instead of down. Two feet of snow somehow ends up as a few sodden inches. Which continues to fall, only now in some odd rain-snow-sleet mix. No problem. I have a repaired cable on the snowblower. Off I go, bent like a wizened old warlock….

This is H E A V Y snow. Ice-laden, sodden. Dour snow. I clean the patch by the garage so I can get to the wooden door to the back yard. I open it at last. And the door, half-frozen, ice-jammed, falls into pieces in my hand. I’m left with one board and a handle. The rest of the door lies in pieces in the snow…. I gather the cracked, frozen boards and carefully lay them aside for repairs in the Spring, should the rumors of a Spring turn out to be true.

The snowblower and I lunge ahead. We are hurling snow to the side. Hurling wet snow to the side. Hurling ice to… the…. We’re hurling nothing nowhere. The snowblower jams, ice packed. I turn it off, clear the blades and turn it on. The success is momentary. Off again, clear, back on. Off. Clear. On. Off clear on. Offclearon…. After six or seven rounds, the chute is finally open enough to push out a piece or two of ice-packed snow.

I have conquered Winter. I move forward.

The snowblower jams again.

Again.

Again.

I give up. I shovel the walk by hand. It is now raining with a sense of urgency. That stops, only to be replaced by wet snow. No, that’s rain. Oh, now ice…. How nice. It’s about 35 degrees. Sweating under three layers of heavy clothes to keep me safe & warm from the bitter cold that isn’t, I’m now soaked, in and out. I’m now shoveling frozen water from the sidewalk, like the debris from a thousand discarded Slushies….

I lug the frozen snowblower back to the garage. Slowly. I give it a nice warm place. I peel off my clothes and hang them up to dry, neighbors be damned.

I’m in. The snow/rain/sleet is out. Alicia’s been cooking all day, oblivious to my sodden adventures out our door. Netflix delivered yesterday. Kieslowski’s Bleu. Rouge and Blanc are due tomorrow. I find a safe, warm corner and get the movie set. Alicia brings her heart-and-soul disguised as food. It melts the leftover ice in my veins and makes the outside world disappear. That’s all we need, you know. A safe, warm corner, love, good food, great art. Snow and ice be damned. All’s right with the world, I tell you, all’s right with the world.

And to all, a very merry Christmas….

Tags: Add new tag, art, Good Food, snow, warmth
Posted by Norman Berns in 2010 | No Comments »

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Posted by Norman in Filmmaking, Food | No Comments »

The Future is Coming, the Future is Coming….

December 24th, 2009

No doubt the year ahead will be no less interesting than the year behind. For good or bad, the universe sorta works that way. I suppose it’s also true that the future wants to (as it always has) come rushing toward us like a puppy, head over heels, panting for love, yapping for attention and peeing all over itself (and us) from the pure joy of its arrival.

Puppy love or not, this year I find myself twisted inside-out, turned into a scowling cynic. Well, as twisted as ever, but more cynic than usual.

Now that Big Business owns the future, I fear that innovation is no longer really real. Instead of leaping into our arms, the future gets doled out to us when some Suit decides the time is right (or the money rich enough) for an unseemly profit. And what we’re being sold (most times) are bargain-priced replicas of the promised goods. Somewhere, I’m sure, someone somewhere really owns the real thing, but most of us get low-cost floor-sweepings from cheapo-land. Not only has Big Business sold our jobs, they’ve outsourced the future to the lowest bidder.

Why so bitter? In this week alone, a computer monitor died (moments after its warranty expired), a TV went blank (because Dell opted to use the cheapest possible chips) and my recently-replaced snowblower cable shredded and snapped (I now fear we import our wires, too). I’m frozen in place wondering what wonder of modern technology will implode next, its obsolescence carefully planned even as it was being born.
With all that in mind, these are my visions of the near future. Now do your part. Hurry, hurry, buy lots of stuff now so that everything can break in time for whatever waits in the wings.

  1. HDTV pales next to Ultra-DTVâ„¢, which will be announced late in 2010, just in time for the next round of Holiday shopping.
  2. More Hollywood films will shoot and deliver in 3D while lame adventures in 4D will go back to whatever dimension brought them. Will anyone care about the story anymore? Or just the space it lives in?
  3. An Astonishing New Camera will manage to make Ultra-Defâ„¢ Video look better, brighter, bolder than film. Film gasps on, even as its image slowly fades away. Film is so 20th century anyway.
  4. After six months & seven updates, the original version of The Astonishing New Camera will sell at Wal-Mart for $100 ($99 at Costco).
  5. The netbook will grow smaller and smaller until it finally morphs into a smart-phone that slides into a shirt pocket.
  6. A shirt-pocket-sized, solid-state drive holds two hours of Ultra-Defâ„¢ video. It sells for $100. Cheapo-land is named the exclusive manufacturer of shirt-pockets; price rises precipitously.
  7. The Next Big Thing is the One-Com©. This amazing wonder shoots 3D stills & Ultra-Defâ„¢ video. It delivers concert-hall-quality sound, includes script writing software, an edit bay and a telescope. Even has a decent phone.
  8. Someone finally figures out what kind of movie actually looks great on a wristwatch. Big Business sells lots of new Wristies© as Hollywood churns out endless new shows and millions watch. Meanwhile filmmakers keep waiting, keep waiting, keep waiting for their residuals.
  9. Film unions begin to disintegrate as more indie productions shoot with more indie crews. Farewell pensions, bye-bye health-care, so long retirement. And everyone wonders when their deferred wages will arrive.
  10. Cloud computing wins. No one owns anything. Hardware downloads everything from the ether. Big Business sells access to lots of clouds. Everyone else gets water vapor.
  11. With ever-lower prices on hardware, Everyman is finally able to electronically encode endless images of everything. The results flood We-Tube©. We watch, eyes crossed. A rare few still make movies, even fewer remember what a real movie really is.
  12. And as the year staggers toward the wings, I’ll have become a year older, though that’ll have little impact on me, less on the world.

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Posted by Norman in Filmmaking, Hollywood, Reviews, Toolkit, Year End Predictions | No Comments »

When Good Productions Go Bad: The Money Squeeze

November 19th, 2009

When production finances get squeezed, it’s easy to consider shooting the same show for less. Instead of, say, three pages a day, you start planning to cram in six or seven or ten. Of course it can be done; you can work harder, shoot smarter….

And then you start hitting the wall.

Maybe you try to get by with fewer setups. Tell the gaffer to leave the big lights on the truck. Send the dolly grip and second makeup and three PAs home. You wrap your days without getting all the coverage you planned. Avoid rehearsals. Let the crew eat lunch from a bag. Jackhammer be damned, tell sound to live with that last take. No time, no time now, you’ll fix it in the mix….

That’s about when the wall starts hitting you.

The problem is, budgets are each handmade to fit one and only one specific script. Even episodes of cookie-cutter TV shows warrant different budgets. This show has one more location, that has a bit more pow-bang-boom than whoosh-swish-wow.

When you’re struggling to cobble together those last few dollars of a tight budget, there’s always a temptation to shave costs here and there. Oh well, I wanted $500, but $450 is close enough. So let’s shoot anyway….

Nice thought. Very bad idea.

Productions start from a concept. The director’s job is to translate that point of view to the screen. Your budget is based on the results of that vision. It’s based on the REALITY of the script.

Danger comes when you try to squeak by with a bit less. When your funds are cut, you can’t expect to make the same film. You want to, but if you try, all you’ll make is a film that’s just not made well.

What to do?

When money’s tight, it’s time to tighten your script. Not lengthen your shooting days. Heresy you say, knowing that your heart & soul are in your script. That may be so, but if you want to tell your story, you’ll have to do it with fewer words.

This is where the real pros and wannabes go their separate ways. Losing a location or two, a few actors, even a page of dialogue could put you right back on budget. And on schedule to shoot the setups you need. It might even tighten up your script.

Here’s the good news and the bad. When the buck stops before the bank has closed, you have to make sure your script matches your money. Do the necessaries or your movie will never match your dreams.

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Posted by Norman in Budget, Filmmaking | No Comments »

Too Rich, Too Thin

June 23rd, 2009

The old saw doesn’t cut it: it is indeed possible to be too rich and too thin. At least if you happen to be talking about food and the movies.

I’m a foodie. Most everyone knows that and, in any case, it’s way easy to spot the rounded contours of my lust. I’ve been known to slam to a stop on the freeway because some Mom-and-Pop looked better than average, worth a try, oh hell, it’s almost lunchtime anyway….

What a lucky kid was I. For whatever reason, maybe because I was the youngest and too small to run away, my grandmother plucked me on top of a kitchen chair and taught me how to cook. The lessons and the food never stopped. Until she did. And then I simply took over her kitchen duties.Apple Pie

When I was in college, my best friends had keys to my apartment so they could sample whatever I’d made that day, no matter the hour. (I thought I had a lot of friends, now I suspect I just happened to know a lot of hungry people.) I should have become a chef, but that didn’t seem like a guy’s option back then. So I became a filmmaker. Oy, some choice….

We turned to food last night because it’s my birthday, choosing one of Minneapolis’ finest. No cracks, please – we ain’t all lutefisk and pot luck dinners out here in the flyovers. By fluke (and some of the best theatre in the world), there’s an unending array of serious food in this town. And this was truly a world class eatery.

Was the food good? Well, yes, but, oh forgive me, TOO good. Flavor on flavor on flavor until my taste buds didn’t know when to quiver or where to surrender. They screamed with delight until they were exhausted. Each bite was wonderful; in combination overpowering. I didn’t want the next mouthful, I didn’t need it. But, hell, at twenty bucks a tiny tasting plate, I soldiered on.

PopcornAnd that brings me to the movies. It’s summer so we are going to endure the openings of Catwoman-87, Rocky-142 and god only knows what else we’d hoped to never see again. Each comes packed with effects, action, adventure, explosions, crashes, car chases, boat chases, bus chases, bicycle chases, up stairs, down stairs and, on rare occasion, even a wee bit of acting.

Our eyes and guts go agog with it all. Every movie is as fun as a roller-coaster and about as meaningful and stomach-wrenching. Still, at twenty bucks a screening (no sense in missing the popcorn and soda), we soldier on. With apologies to Wallis Simpson, it’s just all too rich and too thin for its own good.

So much screaming, yelling, shooting. Good guys leap from tall buildings, bad guys die (only to be replaced by moreCamera bad guys who used to be good guys who we thought were bad guys), clothing is shed (discreetly, of course, in our new Victorian era) and heroes are made and lost and made again.

Macbeth must have been coming back from the megaplex when he opined that it was full of sound and fury signifying nothing. Too rich, too thin.

I miss those good, simple, stomach-warming foods that makes my mouth water with anticipation at every bite. I miss good, simple, heart-warming movies that make my brain quiver with anticipation at every scene.

Real food and real films aren’t about things that insist on screaming and banging pots against pans to get my attention. They’re about refining reality and squeezing it down to its essence. Until you can see Truth.

I can’t see a damn thing at the movies these days because my eyeballs are spinning too fast. And my stomach still aches from last night’s unending indulgences. Oh, I ache for things that are clean and simple and pure.

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Strange Times

April 13th, 2009

These are strange times. Adrift, no moral compass, our every reality is being twisted and shredded, as if we were in the grip of some black hole. Eaten alive and spit out the back end. Or some equally obscene metaphor that boils down to “everything’s going to hell lately.”

Once-sane people are doing dastardly deeds and pretending they’re normal. Pretending their deeds are normal, too. And it’s happening so often it seems it will keep going until there’s nothing left of humanity. Nothing worth more than one final flush out the back end of the universe’s black hole.

Let’s start with the fact that we’ve all just run out of money. Perhaps you’ve noticed.

How the hell could the whole world have run out of money? Where’d it go…? I know I’ve been pushing the limit on a credit card or three, but surely this can’t all be MY fault. The money must be somewhere. I know it’s not hidden behind the Chinese toys at Wal-Mart. Sure as hell, SOMEONE took it.

And while the greedy are gouging their piece of flesh – OUR flesh – we stand by and let it happen. As fast as we can whip out our credit cards, we’ve morphed the ME Generation into the I Got Mine so Screw You Generation.

I never cared if The Suits wanted to worship Mammon on their own time. But time’s up, worship’s over and they’re passing the plate to me.

Bad enough that bankers grab personal millions as their public empires crumble. Billionaires con ordinary folks into buying sporting fields, then charge entry fees no ordinary folks could pay. And so-called “movie stars” snatch million-dollar paychecks out of unwatchable films.

Instead of complaints, the studios raise box-office rates to cover the tab,. Do we stay home in protest? Hell no. We rush the line to drop five bucks for a dime bag of popcorn, then douse it with hydrogenated fat and orange-colored food dye (no doubt imported from China where it’s cheaper to buy).

Why aren’t we up in arms, leaning out windows, screaming our fury and pledging not to take it anymore? Apparently our souls have grown as empty as our pocketbooks. Like these wealthy failures before us, our wish seems to be to get OURS, before anyone notices that everything has become a giant Ponzi scheme. And we all, arms linked, rush into oblivion.

Have we really become them…?

Even as we’re all being flushed headlong toward dark ends, villains abound, hiding their intentions behind movie magic and hype. Bernie Madoff. The lads and ladies of Wisteria Lane. And an endless parade of film producers trying to stay ahead of the broker, the banker and their mortgage holder.

When things get too tough for them, too scary, do they ever do the right thing? Do they look out for the people who help them do their work…? Not in these times. They just grab their profits and devour their young. They think they can avoid the black hole they’re facing by hiding behind whoever may be standing next in line.

Here’s a recent post.

Come join the fun and make a movie! Long hours on a relaxed set. Experience required. This is an important new film by an award-winning filmmaker. No pay.

Wal-Mart may pay less than morally right, but some filmmakers skip the morals entirely and troll for unpaid workers.

Normal people in normal times might be ashamed to con little green newbies into investing their only real assets – their talent and hard work – to support someone else’s FUN. Funny, no one ever mentions profit-sharing.

I called and asked. It turns out that this particular film is “important” because the producer-director-writer-cinematographer-editor said so. She has high hopes of a film festival screening. Last year’s film won an award. To prove it, she shows me her certificate, in genuine simulated parchment, suitable for framing.

Even as we’re all getting sucked into the black hole, we’ve become the pit. Even as some giant maw is devouring us, we are turning around and devouring our young.

Will these times ever end …?

Every time another check bounces, every time another filmmaker is conned into carrying the load for someone else’s project, every time a professional is forced to squeeze two days of work into one (then settle for a half-day’s pay for the effort), the event sits on the horizon mocking us as we move closer to oblivion.

I can only hope these times will end before they end us.

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Tax Incentives

January 22nd, 2009

Incentives. Refunds. Rebates. Certified tax credits. Refundable credit. Transferable credit. The Gimme Revolution has film budgets sprouting columns of negative numbers to show all the money flowing BACK to the production. The instant the AD calls WRAP, the money spigot flips into reverse.

Brokers and bankers have turned up, specializing in “monetizing the credits” (turning future rebates into current cash) for a piece of the pie. And states (even whole countries) are lining up to create ever-larger, ever-sweeter pies.

Any way you slice it, filmmakers are being paid to shoot in this state or that. “Come shoot in MY state and we’ll give back 20, 30, 40% of whatever you spend.” As siren songs go, that one is sweetly seductive for most filmmakers. Raising money has never been easy. Investments that provide a guaranteed (and instant) return can be a huge help.

Of course, this has been around for quite a while in somewhat less democratic forms. It used to be called an “inducement” or a “perk.” You may know it as a “bribe” or “the vig.” No matter the name, those cash disbursement usually stopped at the producers’ pockets, not the investors. Now the process has been institutionalized and the pockets are open. Well, partially open, at least to investors.

So more or less, it’s business as usual. We’ve just changed from personal payoffs to a state-sponsored lottery. I don’t intend to look askance at this gift. But I’m amazed that so many states are competing to give away more, more, more money.

Two thoughts come to mind.

(1) Films bring in good business. It’s a great investment for states. The bigger the giveaways, the greater the growth in new businesses. Studios, rental houses and post facilities are popping up where vacant lots once stood. And in places like Michigan, state investments are buying on-the-job training for newbies and wannabe filmmakers. A whole, new industry is being primed. Of course, had Hollywood decided to produce cars, Detroit might not have been quite as happy. But they didn’t. And now we have an unlikely new film capital sprouting in the “The Flyovers.”

Hollywood ain’t very pleased right now. But who’s the blame for that…? And that brings me to my second thought.

(2) Movies are too damn expensive to make. Oops, said it. Hollywood didn’t want you to know that. But in my mind, basic as it may be, $150,000,000 seems like a bit much to grind out 90 minutes of vaguely entertaining entertainment. Why the hell should any move cost so much…?

The higher the budget, the bigger the salaries. Or vice versa. So there’s quite an incentive for studios, producers, executives and stars to deliver ever-more-expensive movies. That forces the megaplex to gouge $10, $12, $15 a ticket so it can reimburse Hollywood’s vig. Then, like mothers at a bake sale, theatres are reduced to peddling overpriced popcorn and carbonated-sugar-water to pay their own bills.

Hollywood keeps increasing Hollywood’s budgets. They’ve been building their own disaster and this one’s not fiction.

Now can you guess who’s first at the trough for a handout? Yep, Hollywood, fat palms outstretched for more grease. If little filmmakers can push into line (in time, before the money’s all gone) then there’s cash for everyone. Except these state coffers aren’t infinite and big bully Hollywood is there first, grabbing a whopping huge slice of the pie.

By the way, that’s the same Hollywood that until very recently has refused to have any film incentives (refunds, rebates, whatever) in its own state. Of course, they’re justly afraid that it would cost them their own tax dollars, which would slice into their own profits. So they’re pissed that the other states are draining their business, but far too greedy to compete for that business. The film industry’s head honchos have never been known for playing nice or sharing their piece of the pie.

Instead, Hollywood’s happy for a handout of State welfare, as long as it’s some other State shouldering the burden. Happy, hell. They’re addicted to it. It’s part of their cashflow analysis. Hollywood budgets are so top-heavy that Hollywood couldn’t survive without State-sponsored film welfare.

Here’s my solution.

Any time a film costs more than, oh…. Let’s say something outlandishly huge, right on the boundaries of obscenity. $75,000,000.00. You’d think that ought to be enough to make a decent movie. Any time a film exceeds that grotesquely huge number, everyone making over $100K has to take a 10% pay cut. And keep on cutting until the film’s budget is back down to a mere $75M. That might whack up some of those multimillion-dollar purses, defer some deferments and slash gross income sharing. Gross, indeed.

Okay, now that we’ve lopped the head off Hollywood, let’s get back to the states.

State Film Offices have to stop encouraging over-priced productions. These outsized budgets exist only because the states are picking up so much of the tab. I’d suggest a money czar to review every film budget, nipping and tucking at overpaid producers and egregiously overpaid stars.

Oh, productions could still pay whatever they liked, of course, but the states shouldn’t be partners in the budget’s irresponsibility.

Some states have already set caps on reimbursements. Every state needs to do it. Hollywood will be pissed, that’s for sure. Maybe pissed enough to take their marbles and go home. But that just leaves a bigger slice of the pie for all the smaller (and usually independent) filmmakers who really need those rebates to survive. Not to thrive, mind you, just to survive.

Wouldn’t that make sense? Hollywood, which refuses to share its bounty, gets to go home and support its own overpriced industry. Everyone else, struggling to make a movie with budgets as trimmed and fit as a long-distance runner, can afford the films they’re making. And the States get to help the whole indie industry survive. Here, there, everywhere.

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Norman C. Berns

Norman C. BernsFilmmaker, teacher, writer and consultant, my three-part documentary series, The Writing Code, recently aired on PBS.

Of nine films produced for The Metropolitan Opera, Young Wonders was picked up as a PBS special and La Boehme garnered an Emmy.

A certified Movie Magic instructor, I was an early beta tester for Screenplay Systems budgeting and scheduling programs. I was Creative Director of the Set Management team that created ProductionPro Budget.

Maybe it’s nostalgia, but I swear that was one of the best budgeting programs ever made. Hey, gimme a break; no one has an ugly kid…!

A regular columnist for the seminal online journal, WebZine Weekly, I’ve written for The Directors Guild, Tripod, Inc. and BTL News. My blogs and reviews can currently be found on reelgrok, the NY Times owned Baseline and Pavaline. My overview of film budgeting will appear in the latest edition of Carole Dean’s “The Art of Film Funding.”

When I’m not in production, I can usually be found teaching film fundamentals, from script breakdown to successful pitching.  I’m a member of The Internet Press Guild, the Directors Guild, Screen Actors Guild and Actors Equity.