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The Personal Assistant - My Bosses Hollywood Home

May 26, 2008

I am still at my boss’s (Dean’s) Sex Addicts Anonymous (SAA) meeting… and still lying on the floor, covered in orange soda and potato chips instead of sitting (soda and chip-less) in one of the perfunctory folding chairs. Shark continues to help me get up off the ground, which proves to be challenging, as my shoes seem to be stuck to the orange soda puddles on the floor.

While I am wondering what to do next – stay and confess my boss’s sexual sins (I’m up next) or race to his house, to be berated by his wife for losing his daughter’s homework (a daughter I’ve never even seen, remember, let alone her homework) – I hear an “Avery!!” come out of my cell phone. Oops. My boss’s wife is still on the line. Before I can figure out what to say, she does it for me. “I’m hanging up on you. I know you’ll do the right thing.” Click. I look at Shark, lost. “You’d better go,” he says. The other SAA members behind him nod in agreement. I guess they’re right, although I really would like to be anywhere but there, with that… woman. I would also rather be anywhere but here. But I can’t move… when I try to, I find I am glued to the floor, the Fanta orange soda still acting as an adhesive between my Adidas and the linoleum. I take a few steps; it sounds like Velcro every time I walk. Ah, well.

I apologize to the group and start to pick up the snacks off the floor. Shark stops me and says he’ll get them. What a nice sex addict, I think to myself. I take a potato chip out of my hair, look at it quizzically, and pop it into my mouth. I wave good-bye at everyone awkwardly and run out, trying to ignore the crunch crunch crunch of my shoes as I go. Why did I accept this blasted personal assistant job again?

I pull up to Dean’s Hollywood Hills house – or the gate leading to the house, I should say. I buzz the intercom. Nothing. I buzz again. Nothing. Come the fuck on, I think; his wife gets me to rush over and she’s not even here? Bitch.

Finally, a very chipper man tells me to come through. I pull up behind a line of cars – are they having a party? There are at least five sedans and SUVs, all starting with “Lexus,” ahead of mine. Maybe my boss sells them on the side? Hmm. Unfortunately, it’s hard to camouflage my red 1990 Pontiac Bonneville hand-me-down from the Midwest. It certainly doesn’t belong on this car lot (maybe a used one, as it has a big yellow streak of paint across one side from when I accidentally ran into a pole). Never have I had such low car self-esteem – until now. But alas…

I park and ring the doorbell. A maid answers and motions to the back of the house. I walk in – it looks like the lobby of a hotel, something like the Four Seasons (as opposed to the Ramada Inn), a fancy vase of fancy flowers here, a marble fountain there. I am afraid to touch anything as I walk down the neverending hallway. I am also afraid of the woman who will be waiting for me when I get there.

“Back here, Avery!” a voice yells out. But not a mean voice this time; a nice one, as though it belongs to one of my friends. Maybe the boss’s wife left, I think. Lucky for me…

I get to the back to find a gigantic kitchen, the type you see on cooking shows but don’t think really exist. A Barbie doll-esque woman (dressed in “Career Barbie” clothes) sits with two as-of-yet-unnamed little girls, about six and eight. They eat tea sandwiches (you know the kind, cut into little triangles) and sip lemonade while doing something resembling homework. The woman stands and comes over to me. “I’m Chloe,” she says. “Dean’s wife.” WTF, I wonder. This isn’t Dean’s wife. It can’t be the woman who called, yelling at me…

“And this is Summer and Spring,” she says, motioning to the little girls. They smile sweetly and look up. Spring?! There is no way they named her Spring. But I look down to see the homework she’s doing, with her name printed at the top in six-year-old writing (not quite printing, yet not quite cursive). “Nice to meet you,” I mutter to all of them. “Have a seat,” Chloe says. I do. “And a sandwich.” She holds out the plate for me; I take a triangular sandwich and take a bite, so she can do the talking. And, that, she does. She’s very nice. I’m so confused as to how this could be the same woman who interrupted and pulled me out of my – her husband’s – Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting.

After about a half-hour, I wonder what I am doing here. No one is mentioning the reason for my visit: the missing homework. Do I say something – or just let it go? And did she tell Dean I was coming over? What if he walks in and sees me, sees that I am not at the meeting? That wouldn’t happen, though; he’s still on set… right? I hope so. But just to play it safe, I say, “Does Dean know I’m here?” “Don’t worry about him,” Chloe says. Hmm. That didn’t exactly answer my question.

Finally, after I’ve heard all about Chloe trying to start her own fashion line, “Mother Knows Best” – for mothers and daughters (she points out that they are all dressed alike, like a set of “mother” and “daughter” dolls) – she asks if I do yoga. “No,” I say. “You should,” she says. What is that supposed to mean, I wonder. “I mean,” she says, catching herself, “it’s important that you know how to breathe.” I’m obviously still alive, I think, so why do I need to learn how to breathe? “I’ll add you to my class next Tuesday.” What?! I don’t want to go to Yoga with my boss’s wife. Don’t I have a say in this? “I’m not sure I can –“ I start. But it’s futile. She insists.

Finally, I can’t stand it any longer; I must know the answer to the who-stole-Summer’s-homework mystery; it looks like she’s doing it now. With all the courage I can muster, I say, “So what happened to the homework?” Chloe looks at me nicely, with her perpetually pursed Barbie doll lips, as she picks up her glass of lemonade and says, “Oh. False alarm.” She smiles and takes a sip. I feel like pouring the pitcher all over her, but I don’t. I could have been confessing Dean’s sexual sins right now, I think. I’m missing that for this? To be my boss’s wife’s new best friend? My thoughts are interrupted when she says, “Is that a potato chip in your hair?” I feel my head. Yep, it is. I try to get it out of the orange soda knot in my hair that the chip is stuck in when… I hear someone’s footsteps coming down the hall. “Honey?” a man says. Dean. Do I have time to hide, I wonder. No. He comes in and…

To be continued…

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The Reality TV Producer - REALITY’S IDENTITY CRISIS

May 26, 2008

We’d all love to be someone else sometimes.

I wanted to be, variously, a better looking Steve Tyler, Neil Armstrong or that guy from Dawson’s Creek who got to fool around with Katie Holmes all the time… maybe I’ve said too much.

But, it seems the fantasy of getting out from your rut hasn’t been confined to real, living humans – I’ve begun to notice a startlingly similar desire in the Reality TV business.

Those of you who’ve scanned any of my previous blogs will know that I’m out selling shows right now. Part of being a good salesman, as with selling vacuum-cleaners, is to know your buyers – and so a major amount of my time is spent meeting the commissioners, going to events where development execs hang out, getting on the phone for the latest updates with my agent, (where usually I update HIM on the latest trends).

The trick is not to know the ‘corporate direction’ of a network, but to know the ‘feel’ of a network, that little something that makes a show a Nat Geo show over a Discovery Channel show. Mostly, you just can’t put your finger on it, but, (like the vacuum salesman who stumbles across a rich, blind, clean-freak housewife with a particularly dirty carpet), it’s payday when you get this right.

But, recently on sales trips to the East Coast something has changed. It’s like someone turned off my Spidey Sense – because strange things are a-foot. Shows that should have been for one network are no longer required there, but someone else, who six months ago would never have even dreamed of making a particular show suddenly have decided that’s the kind of show they want to make.

It started with History Channel, where a year ago I heard one commissioner say, when I accidentally pitched a show with absolutely NO history content – “You worry about the show, I’ll worry about the History. I can inject history into ANYTHING”. In the year since this meeting, sure enough, AXMEN, UFO HUNTERS, MONSTERQUEST, and the phenomenally successful, ICE ROAD TRUCKERS appeared on the network, (to the highest ratings the channel has ever seen).

This was followed by Court TV suddenly announcing they no longer felt they wanted to be a Crime network, and changed their name to TRU TV. Oprah Winfrey even backed out of her OXYGEN network, because she felt they had strayed too far from the positive female slanted shows of old, with new offerings which include the popular, (but admittedly bitch-slap-filled), BAD GIRL’S CLUB. You’d hear that ‘Discovery want to be Bravo, FX want to be A&E, Showtime want to be USA, History want to be Discovery’ and so on…

The problems all these stations face is simple – at the time, whatever they’re doing to their shows doesn’t seem to be working, so a short sharp, schizophrenic shock changes things up, and the audience come flooding back. Great idea!

Now, unhindered by tradition, a freshly re-branded network can make all those thinly veiled knock-offs of any show on TV that audiences ARE watching. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that ICE ROAD TRUCKERS, with its very similar themes, characters, story arcs, not to mention production teams, as Discovery’s DEADLIEST CATCH, is anything other than truly inspired! I’d imagine it was only a matter of time that History Channel would have come up with that on their own).

Absolutely, just as I can change into my Neil Armstrong costume, (when my other half is out), so can these networks make themselves feel closer to their goal by calling in the most expensive design teams money can buy to swap out their dreary old logos, and replace them with skinny, reflective, spangly new ones. (I have heard that many design companies actually rely on this cycle of identity crises to replenish their bottom lines on a predictable four year rotation).

But, you see, the problem is not that audiences are demanding a cute new logo, and a confusing new tag-line, the problem is that the shows these networks have been desperately putting on, are not very good.

So rather than blame their production teams, the development department or, heaven forbid, themselves, they blame the fact that the logo is ‘not communicating to our core audience anymore’. And given the choice between them or the logo, lobby the shareholders mercilessly to let them bravely move the company forward by even more bravely changing the name and logo of the network. If that doesn’t work, then the audiences simply must have fled somewhere… or popped out to the shops… for 6 months.

My prediction, however, is that this temporary identity shift will last only as long as it takes for those particular shows to get old again. Then what?

My personal feeling is they’ll find that hurriedly slipping out of a milar-jumpsuit and fishbowl helmet and stashing them both behind the boiler in the time it takes for my other half to unlock the front door, is a LOT easier than trying to rebuild a logo or re-re-rebrand again – something which I can only imagine would be as difficult to explain, and as expensive to get out of, as the time I got caught home-alone with that boxed-set of Dawson’s Creek dvds. Now I’ve definitely said too much .

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The Reality TV Producer - Making Friends

May 26, 2008

First off, those of you who are as anal about schedules and punctuality as my production manager is, you will have been dreadfully hurt that I didn’t post last week. By way of an apology, I’ll try to cleverly craft my excuse into a blog. (Just like I craft my overspends into ‘critical editorial inclusions, sanctioned by the network’ when talking to my Production Manager)…

So, yes, at the risk of sounding all pompous and big headed, I was shooting last week. It was a long and demanding shoot in a city I’d not really shot much more than interviews in before… and it was in the other side of the country.

The last few blogs have touched on this process of selling shows I’m going through right now. This shoot last week was what they call a ‘Paid Presentation Reel’, basically before the network can finally, fully commit to buying the show, you first have to make the show. But for cheap. So, the network gives you some silly, tiny amount of cash to go away and come back with a tape they can look at and go ‘that looks like a tv show’. They can then show their advertisers, who all agree it ‘looks like a tv show’, then, ideally they now feel happy to pull the trigger and go to a full pilot or series, fuelled by a new-found enthusiasm and sense of wonder (bordering on euphoria), based largely on the fact that you’ve done so much work for virtually free.

So, here you have zero money, to speak of, no time, (because time is money… and we don’t have any of that), and no real network of friends or crew members in our city of choice. And the ticking clock of the network’s deadline you must deliver this tape to them by in order to give them enough time to decide to buy the show before some arbitrary sounding date in the VERY near future, (usually not more than a month!).

What do you do? Well, this is where the subject of this blog comes in. You make brand new wonderful friends. Fast.

I’ve worked in movies, and there your work is pretty insular a lot of the time, aside from the hectic six week shoot you’re working with the same four people for four or more years to get your film made. TV is the opposite.

TV, especially reality TV is SO consumable that the turnover of colleagues and crews can make your brain ache and send you down the road of beginning to refer to this barrage of faces that you ’sorta- kinda’ remember collectively as ‘mate’, (it pays to be a Brit), ‘my man’, (less convincing from a Brit), or ’sugar-tits’, (I dont frequently quote Mel Gibson… but you should know my agent enjoys me calling him that one).

I recently heard a quote from an angry producer, mad at yet another audio screw up, that “it’s almost impossible to work with the same crew twice in LA” because there’s so much work out there. (He added under his breath that this was often a very great blessing too). The point is that from my experience you’ll do anything you can, (short of actually paying people properly), to hang on to good people. The reason is obvious - especially when it comes to pulling off the seemingly
impossible as we did last week.

To pull in favors you need to have friends out there willing to come to your aid when you need them. This is all very cool when you’re shooting in your home town, but last week we just had to make calls to random vendors, other production companies based there… and above all I
had to cross my fingers and hope that we’d find good people.

Part of my job here is to inspire people that the show we’re making, if it should go to series, would bring wealth, happiness and inner fulfilment beyond their imaginings… and we might even manage to pay their rate. I never lie to people, I just tell them this is how it is, that I’m working for absolutely nothing, (which is painfully true), and that I’ll be trying to make this whole experience fun in its own right, (which is mostly true… see my previous comment about time/money…).

So here’s my main advice about finding and keeping good crews… take money from anywhere you can in the budget, anywhere at all, and put it in the ‘crew meals’ line, (you know what they say, “happy crews run on hand-held meals that cost less than 8 bucks”. To be honest I’ve never
heard that quote, but ‘feed often and swiftly’ is my final word on feeding crews).

Second, thank them sincerely for their time, (but don’t grovel, they do have their reasons why they’re there with you, and the last thing you want to do is make them feel like victims!).

Lastly, do good work. Simple. If they’re good people, they’ll appreciate they’re in good hands if you take pride  in your work and don’t cut corners… (and don’t goof off writing blogs when they’re all
working as hard as they are), they all want this show to be as good as you do.

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The Reality TV Producer - THE CHAMPAGNE MOMENT

May 26, 2008

So last blog I talked a bit about my role in sating the World’s appetite for new reality tv.

This week I’ve been out pitching a new show – so I wanted to talk about the ‘Champagne Moment’… or reality tv’s very own unique version of this ultra-tease.

Here’s how it goes. You spend months finding new characters, preparing them for the ordeal of the months of work and slow progress ahead. You write up the act breakdown – (what goes in each act) – and work up the treatment, perhaps even a script. And then you fly somewhere across the States and shoot tape with your own money for a couple of days to make a reel… you painstakingly cut it over weeks – and finally have a 5 minute reel that you feel happy to show. It’s fast, it’s cool, it has all the right character bits in it. Great, now you screen it to your agent with a view to finally going out and pitching this in meetings.

Now, for the first time in the process my agent says “Yeah! I always LOVED this project, never doubted you!”… which is pretty much 100% the opposite of what he said six months before… then – boom – you’re on the top of the books again because – you’re now the team going out with a show!

So, you spend your time and your own hard earned cash flying to the East Coast, flitting about Burbank and Century City, running from meeting to meeting, shaking hands, being ‘good in the room’, watching the vast array of terribly set up TV&Audio systems in various network meeting rooms, (with tv’s that are seemingly never set up for the TV to work, waiting for “Jonah, our tech guy” to switch the channel, but who forgets to turn on the amp. Then waiting for Jonah to come back and fix the sound…) – but mainly, above all, you spend all this time drinking in all that wonderful positiveness. Ahhh.

That’s great. All that hard work and now people really like the show. They love the show. Some of them even understand the show. Then there are handshakes, I even had a backslap last week, (I think I enjoyed that), and the meetings are over. Then, your team and your agent wait until the elevator before saying positive things to each other about how well that meeting went… or… ‘he’s really cool, I particularly liked the bit where he said I was great’.

(But strangely nobody says anything bad in these moments, because as loony as it seems, there’s a collective recognition, and it’s never spoken out loud, that the elevator might actually be bugged… I even found myself sliding my feet to the very edge of the floor when leaving the office of a well known pay cable network last week, I guess with the very real expectation that the floor would open up any second and we’d be dumped down a chute into a pool and I’d really have my day ruined by Hollywood sharks).

Then, once you drive away, your phone rings and it’s your agent with everyone in their own cars on a conference call. Now you talk about what really happened in the meeting.

This can be very dispiriting. A meeting where they loved every second of the reel, where they nodded and made appreciative clicking noises with their pens as they jotted down the details of your pitch – is often interpreted as ‘a complete waste of your time’ by the agent. ‘What a total douche-bag that guy was’.

Sometimes he might be right. But… mostly… I dunno. I was THERE. I didn’t see it. But there’s such a thing as a game face, I guess. And your agent, for all his faults, can spot it, and in the long run even if you don’t believe them, they can turn out to be very, painfully right.

Then come the offers, passes and ‘don’t do anything until I’ve shown the team’ calls.

It’s exciting – everyone agrees – this could be the one. They offer, counter offer, reveal what the offer REALLY meant by having their business affairs call and deny any of the offer was actually what I have written down right here in my notes. But the most important thing is that any day you KNOW you’re going to call your friends, email your family and give everyone the good news – ‘we sold a show!’…. champagne will flow, beers will be drunk – laughter will be had. Great times.

But no. Because then the offer changes a little more, they want a few more bits of free work before they’ll truly actually really sign, or their enthusiastic statements about how you’re all going to love working together become laced with caveats like ‘Bob just wants to take a last look at it with the focus group, but you’ll definitely know by Monday’.

It’s still exciting… but now it’s another weekend with the champagne still sitting in the fridge. Monday comes. Monday goes. ‘Everyone’s SUPER excited’ the agent says, ‘you’ll know by Friday for sure!’

Friday comes and goes… now the offers are still good, a lot of people are putting in real time putting them together, negotiating them, working through it. But, what there isn’t is a ‘YES’ - a real live, slap-it-it’ll-wobble ‘yes’. And you stand swinging on the open fridge door, staring down that bottle of champers. But you don’t touch it, you resist.

Any minute now. Just wait for it. You can drink it soon enough…

And finally, as the field has narrowed to two suitors, (that’s still TWO, folks), your agent casually slips in the sad news that the major network officially passed yesterday, but ‘this is great about THIS deal, right?!’… you can’t help but be left with the feeling that this has all been such a lot of work all you want to do is sell the f#king show now. You’re done with this process… it’s not fun any more. Why didn’t someone buy it last week when they said they loved it? What did we do wrong? Your agent shrugs – happy that at least you’re selling it to a really good network – and chiding you for being down on a fantastic achievement.

But somehow, after all that fuss, all that whirl, everyone seems to have conspired to have made all this process a colossal buzz-kill. And now opening the champagne seems kinda pointless considering all the work you have to do now to turn this option/development budget or ‘off network pilot’ into a real pilot. And what if they don’t like the pilot. What if it goes away? Or what if they pick it up – then we’ll have to convince them the series is great too and then, what if we get axed after two episodes, publicly, and as a failure? What then? Ohmygod…. There’s SO much to go wrong!

Oh. This is horrible.

I don’t think I’m even in the mood for champagne.

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The Reality TV Producer - SELLING REALITY TELEVISION

May 26, 2008

When all the hookers have failed to win the rapper’s heart and been booted from the house, the Celebrities have been voted out of the jungle or when D-list celebs have been cured of their addictions – every reality show, like all shows, must come to an end.

Oh good. Now it’s time for the next one.

So, another part of my job is creating new reality shows. If I don’t create new shows then audiences drop off, curiosity wanes and society, ultimately, collapses. Or so the voices tell me.

So, what makes a good reality show? Well, I could tell you, but you know what? You’re creative. You had that great idea for a show you pitched me at that dinner party, why don’t we work on one together? Let’s put one down on paper and pitch it. Right now, before the end of this blog.

Ok – this is exciting. We’ll both get rich. So, first, let’s decide what we’re going to make this show about. What always works in reality tv? Hmmm. Docusoaps – we’ll follow someone who says outrageous things to people, you just can’t stop them saying what’s on their mind. Like Dog the Bounty Hunter… you know, the guy with the Mullet and tattoos that America discovered to their horror is a terrible racist).

But if we could find someone who wasn’t Dog? That could work. They’re outrageous! Hilarious! And annoying and I personally find them REALLY repetitive – because those show’s secret is that they rely totally on an outrageous person doing the same thing, exactly the same thing, each week. And they make me want to kill myself – because the one thing audiences love about their shows is that they don’t change too much. So that’s a horrible curse for those shows, and the hosts and producers who work on them. Like they’re all trapped in a Kafkaesque nightmare for 7 seasons and they’re still doing whatever it is they do, year after year in exactly the same way. Oh to be a Millionaire Matchmaker, a TV nanny or a Surprise Chef - for 200 episodes. Shoot me now. OK so let’s not do that.

What about one of those singing shows. Yes, people singing and being told they can’t sing! That is TV magic, right? In fact, terrible singing is even better. Ok, let’s have some singing. Oh, oh, oh! And some voting, some simple voting component ALWAYS works. It’s also going to have the marketing department at the network making noises like happy suckling piglets, (they make bank of those phone-ins). So, yes, let’s have some voting.

Ok, so we have a singing, competition show, where the audience phone in to vote for their favorite.

Personally, I think cooking shows are big right now – Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, Top Chef, America’s Next Iron Chef… chefs are big business right now. SO, anyone mind if I throw in some chefs? You cool with that?

They could always sing, too? Right?

In fact ‘Singing Chefs’ sounds cool I could see that in a line-up.

But, let’s consider the downsides while we’re here. OK – who cares about Singing Chefs? Well, if we get them from middle America, the everyman or woman in the street, then maybe lots of people. But, will they have the credibility of a real chef? I mean a big restaurant Chef. Probably not. So let’s have a mix, some from the city, some from the farms of Kentucky.

WHY are they singing and cooking? It’ll never work in the focus group that “they just want to win for the sake of the title”. (Focus groups are generally made up of ‘man-on-the-street’ people with little drive and few goals of their own – and they HATE people striving to be the best at things. They just don’t get it. “Why would they go to all that effort?”, they ask. “Why don’t they just stay home and eat a nice bag of Doritos?”). Ok. What might people ‘get’ as the stakes. Oh! Got it. Why not for a million dollars? That always seems to work. Network execs ‘get’ the stakes with ‘one million dollars’. Everybody understands that – what these chefs might do to one another to clinch it for themselves.

Or charity. Oprah’s Big Give is all about that… (Kinda. It’s a horrible mess of a new genre; The new ‘charity-philanthropy-make-over-vote off-celebrity judges-evil-doing-backstabbing’ genre. Very weird).

So why do these people from a Kentucky farm want to go on tv, cook, sing, get voted off, get voted on, win, lose, fight and bitch to win money for some charity?

I don’t know. Darn it. I don’t know. Maybe this isn’t going to work out between you and me – and besides I just don’t know what you’ve brought to the table anyway, to be honest.

Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got it. If this idea sounds stupid to us both now, I’ve got the magic bullet that will fix it all – and make it a no-brainer for the network execs.

Wow. This is good. This is definitely gonna sell.

Let’s make the chefs Celebrities. That seems to fix every sh*t idea.

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The Reality TV Producer - THAT SPECIAL MOMENT…

May 26, 2008

Once in every 6.4 months a moment comes along in my job that is so special, so remarkably perfect that you scream like a schoolgirl who just caught her hangnail in a particularly salty car-door. Inside, of course, because unfortunately, in my job, this happens when I’m staring in the face of the last person on earth who should know I’m feeling this way.

In fact you must stay silent. Totally silent – because you’re standing on the set of a reality show, and a member of the public has just said something or done something you know is TV gold. Yes, I did once actually think ‘TV Gold’ for real. But the camera is rolling, and the scene must go on without the producer breaking into screaming schoolgirl sounds.

You know these moments – the crazy ‘god lady’ on Trading Spouses, a good old girl-fight on Survivor, or anything that happens on I Love New York. It’s a moment you know is going to be talked about in the edit suite, shown on the sales tape of the season, and in all the promos across the network. And, boy do these moments make you look great.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s every reason to admit feeling guilty in these moments, and probably a bit dirty. Sitting in the shower with your clothes on dirty. But seriously, dude, they’ve just given you a killer line, a trailer moment, a real humdinger. No. No. I’m on the subject of guilt now, can’t get carried away.

So why the guilt? Have I made the person do this thing? No. Not even a bit. Not exactly, anyway. Well, perhaps a little bit. Put it this way. I feel my job is to very carefully give everyone permission to do what comes naturally.  I’ve seen very bad producers actually telling people what to say… rarely, but I’ve seen it. But, I feel that so long as you’ve done your homework, understood the people you’re working with, and have a great deal of humility, you pretty much don’t have to do anything other than guide the show to be shot in certain locations at certain times, or help a specific two people to be in the same room together…. If you’ve done all that, you can pretty much step out of it and let the experience be real for the subjects. It’s only then, the magic happens.

But deep down. Deep deep down, I know that this person wouldn’t probably have said or done the thing they’re doing if it weren’t for me, the camera crew, or the show.

I guess ultimately, my guilt comes from the fact that in normal life, our there, in the real real world, when people you hang out act like a doofuss  - the last thing you’d do is stand by. In silence. Screaming on the inside like a schoolgirl.

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The Production Assistant - Creepy Creepy Carradine

May 26, 2008

I would like to recount a story that happened to me and some friends recently.  It’s not directly Production Assistant related, but it trumps pretty much every celebrity encounter I’ve had so far because it is so creepy, so I felt the need to share.  Here is a small play about the encounter:

EXT.  Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre - Night

Bianca, Kyle and Brandie stand in line for a comedy show when they see none other than Mr. Kung Fu Kill Bill himself: DAVID CARRADINE, emerge stumbling from a nearby sushi place.  He makes eye contact and beelines to them.

His shirt is unbuttoned to an unsettling degree and a medallion hangs out with his old man chest hair.  Brandie is immediately skeeved - this is an encounter that is great in theory, but horrible in practice.

David: What is this line for?
Brandie: A comedy show.
David: What do they do?
Brandie: They interrupt movies.
Bianca: Yeah, all these comedians bring funny movies and they all talk about and make fun of them.
Brandie: You should come.
David: (to Kyle) And what would you be doing if you weren’t standing in this line with these gorgeous ladies?
Kyle:  I work at this store right here so I would be working…
David: No.  That wasn’t the answer I’m looking for. (to Brandie) What would you be doing if you weren’t in line right now?
Brandie: Um… probably sitting at home in sweatpants watching Battlestar Galactica.
David: (to Bianca) And you?
Bianca:  I would probably be with her.
David:  These are not good answers.  You are wasting your youth.
Brandie: Whatever David Carradine, what would YOU be doing if you weren’t here talking to us right now?  Where does your evening go?
David: I’m going to be at home.  In front of my computer.  Painting.
Bianca: Oh, Photoshop?
David: NO.  I use something else.

He tilts his head back, closes his eyes and smiles the perviest smile I have ever seen.

David:  I paint naked ladies.
Brandie: …Oh.
Kyle:  …Oh.
Bianca: …Oh.   Have you ever had an art show?
David: I had one in Beverly Hills once…
Brandie: Are you going to have another one?
David: Maybe…
Bianca: We want to go.
David: Are you going to buy anything?

At this point we discuss with him how we would buy something if we could afford it.  Mostly because all three of us are imagining that David Carradine is making Microsoft Paint Porn, because if he’s not using Photoshop, what else could he be using but Microsoft Paint?

So it stands to reason that all of his art is shitty, 7-color naked ladies, most likely with a lime green or hot pink background - they look like child drawings, because everything you draw in MS Paint looks like a kid drew it.

David:  Let me give you my email address for my next art show.

We give him a pen and paper - he scralls, in barely legible writing his email, hands it to us, then wanders off without another word into the night.

Cue the wooden flute solo.

Brandie looks down at the paper in her hand – It’s an aol.com email address…  so that means he has a screen name.

…Really?  This dude is so 90’s its not even funny.

THE END.

Now readers, this where I need your help.  I have added him to my buddy list and keep staring at his screen name, I have no idea what to say, haha.  Give me a ridiculous question for Mr. Kung Fu Kill Bill, and I will get you an answer.
Until next week!

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The Documentary Producer - Test Post from Documentary Producer

May 25, 2008

This is a test post from one of the sub-blogs

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The Documentary Producer - Hollywood, The Beautiful

May 23, 2008

The most beautiful thing about Hollywood is that everything can change on a dime.  Take today for instance…

After struggling at my editing facility to regain that ever illusive story hiding deep my own doc, I had the great pleasure of meeting with a wonderful filmmaker who made me again realize why I got myself into this mess in the first place.

A bit impatient and struggling with the chaos of the corner of Sawtelle and Olympic, I phoned Brad to see why he was running late. In one of those moments straight out of a Hollywood film, he picked up the phone, and standing right in front of me, engaged me in a conversation. So distracted by the traffic, it took me a few moments to catch on to his presence. But when I did, boy was I glad to see him.

Like a breath of fresh air, we jumped right in to the task at hand… preparing our pitch for the Hollywood Documentary Heavyweights.  He came with a one-pager that gave me chills. He said “This is for the execs so they can sell it to their bosses.” I remember thinking, “If that one-pager was ice, we would have no problem selling it to the Eskimos”.

“Great”, I said, “Don’t change a thing!”

We then launched into how he feels the story is to be told. Again, like rain on the hot pavement, it sizzled and popped. Finally he threw on a seven-minute clip of the footage he had shot on a scouting trip. Stunning. I wanted to cry… in fact, I think I did.

These three things are what Documentary Producers’ dreams are made of. A strong one-sheet that sells the film, a solid working knowledge of what your story is (“who cares”) and spectacular footage.

Pitching and selling narrative scripts is hard, but let me tell you, Docs are a different beast completely. No one will guarantee things will go according to your plan – in fact plan that they won’t. BUT if you have the three things I spoke about, you are well on your way to getting the movie financed and ultimately made. (I just can’t tell you how rare that is!)

So today, my faith was restored that there are films and filmmakers out there worthy of the BIG SCREEN and I am thrilled to be a part.

So let’s check off a few things on the list of MUST HAVES when making a Documentary Film…

1.    A passion for the story.   CHECK
2.    A sane director.   CHECK – Thank God!
3.    A compelling subject.  DOUBLE CHECK
4.    A clear pitch and awesome footage.   CHECK
5.    Money…

Ahh… To Be Continued…

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The Music Supervisor - So You Want To Be A Music Supervisor

May 22, 2008

After receiving another e-mail yesterday from someone wanting advice about how to become a music supervisor, I decided to make this the topic of this week’s blog. I get e-mails, MySpace messages and letters in the mail from aspiring music supervisors from all over the world. Many even live in big music and film cities such as New York and LA where there are many music supervisors at their disposal. I guess I can’t complain.

The first thing I’ll say is, “don’t quit your day job.” If you are just getting started, you have a long road ahead of you. If you are involved in some aspect of the music and film industry, you at least have some idea of how these industries work. It will be a long time (many years) before you’ll see enough money to make a living. This means you’ll have to work your day job and then carve out time to work your music supervisor job in the evenings, on your days off and the weekends. This can impact your family life, your social life or anything else you do when you’re not working your day job. What you’ll need is drive and perseverance and support from your spouse/partner, your kids and your friends.

I’m going to take the approach that you are completely new to this field. The first thing you should do is sit at your computer, go to google.com and type in one or all of these search terms: “Music Supervision,” “Music Supervisors,” “Music Clearance,” and “Music Rights.” Any of these will get you started. You’ll get a lot of hits. Start reading and as you learn more, use Google to research new terms and other bits of information that you find. Go to a book store or your local library and read. There are a lot of books out there about Music Supervision, Music Clearance and other topics within this field.

The Complete Guide to Selecting Music for Movies, TV, Games and New MediaA good resource to read that will get you started is the book, Music Supervision: The Complete Guide to Selecting Music for Movies, TV, Games and New Media. This book has an associated website called Music Supervision Central and a Yahoo Group called supervisingmusic. I’m one of the moderators of the Yahoo group and we are trying to get group up and running again. I’m in the process of revamping it and making it a place where you can go to learn more about how to licenses music for your films or licensing your music for placement in films. Click on the link above and join if you’re interested…and you should be if you are serious about getting into this fascinating field.

There are other resources out there that you can find on-line at Amazon or at Barns & Noble. You just have to do some homework.

If you live in a city where the film and music industry is alive, you need to start networking. Introduce yourself to filmmakers. Let them know that you are just starting out as a music supervisor and you are looking for work. With your research and studies, you should be able to talk halfway intelligently with your “potential employer.” Don’t mislead anyone by making them think that you are an experienced music supervisor. Tell them upfront that you are just getting started and you’re looking for an opportunity to work on films to learn more.

These early job opportunities will most likely be non-paid positions. That’s why you should not quit your day job. Don’t worry about making money at first. Most of these films will not have a music budget and could not afford to pay you anyway. Those that can will expect you to know what you are doing in order to earn the fee that they will pay you.

While you’re out networking, you’ll want to introduce yourself to musicians and songwriters. They are always looking for an opportunity to license their music in films and TV. Do the same with them and let them know that you’re starting out and most of the film opportunities will not be able to pay a license fee. If they are unsigned, independent artist, then they should be happy to get one of their songs in a film.

Working on these low budget films is the best way to get started. However, you will have to prepare yourself for the bigger movies that have music budgets. They will most likely need you to clear songs from upper tier artist. This is when you’ll be submitting your license request forms to the big publishers and record labels such as Sony, EMI, Warner Bros. and Universal. This is when you’ll learn a lot about how things work.

As you progress in your pursuit to become a full fledged music supervisor, you will need to know the ins and outs of music licensing, music rights, copyright laws, license agreements, cue sheets, filling out and submitting synch and master recording license request forms, synchronization (or synch) licenses, master recording licenses, negotiation licensing fees, build relationships with major and independent publishers and record labels. These are many of the tasks that fall under the administrative side of music supervision. These are also terms you can use when searching on Google.

On the creative side, you’ll find music that is creatively and financially applicable to the film or show you are working on. You’ll work with the director to spot the film for potential music cues. You’ll work with the director and composer to map out the musical score for the film. Facilitate the recording of original music written specifically for the film or show.

If this is a field you’re truly interested in getting involved with, get started now. There’s a lot to learn. If you really want to be a full blown music supervisor, you’ll need to learn all aspects of the field. Once you get to the point where you are hired on a film that has distribution, it will be your job to insure that all of the music clearance deliverables are accurate and ready to be handed over to the distributor. You don’t want to be the cog in the system that brings the production to a halt.

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