Thursday, December 19, 2013

You're fired!

Here's a given if you're a movie executive, and as the past year has shown us, it extends to producers. Not just any producer either – the biggest.

The day will come when you'll be history.

I read an article years ago when somebody asked a bunch of studio executives what the new generation could expect from the business. There was a lot of the usual, 'filmmaker relationships', 'think in terms of story', 'integrity', blah blah blah. One responder said something short, sharp and shocking. The exact words were this; 'you're going to get fired'.

Of course, he was talking in generalities. What he meant was that a constant string of hits in Hollywood is like a writer that gets respect, an actress over 50 who still gets roles and rain in Los Angeles. They just don't happen.

The day will come when a project you shepherded to the screen bombs and you'll have to do the Walk of Shame on Monday morning past everyone's office, all of them trying not to meet your eyes as you stare at the floor. Sometimes you can blame a former colleague who bought the project to life, a change in strategic direction that was over your head or a writer or director the star insisted upon.

But someone's head has to roll, and eventually, when you can't deny that what was on screen was your baby from beginning to end, it's going to be yours. Get used to it, this long-forgotten anonymous executive said, because it's inevitable (I could probably look up who it was, but by now he's probably been fired).

As 2013 proved, it's not just studio employees but private contractors, ie producers who'll all face the chopping block. And as the saying goes, you're only as hot as your last project, so despite pouring what must be several billion into Disney's coffers since 1995's Crimson Tide, it only took one flop for the Mouse House to cut ties with Jerry Bruckheimer.

Even after the twenty eleventy squillion dollar haul of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, rumblings about Bruckheimer and Disney parting ways started soon after the box office performance of The Lone Ranger*. A few short months later and it was announced he was moving back to a first look deal with Paramount, the studio where he and coke-addled late partner Don Simpson honed their rock and roll technique back in the early 80s.

So you see, none of us are safe – even the biggest producers in the world are going to get fired eventually.

 

* In the way these things usually work, damning early chatter about The Lone Ranger being a monumental flop caught on early. Yes, Disney suffered a stock price bath because of it, but the film took $260m worldwide on a $215m budget – far from the catastrophe it was made out to be.

How horror became the new new black. Again.

Everything in Hollywood goes through cycles. The reason is because the themes and stories (romantic comedies, vampires, westerns, fairytales) can be told using new techniques (3D, CGI) to a new audience who was still in nappies the last time it was in vogue.

One of those is horror, but it's enjoyed a longer upswing in recent years than many. The 80s and 90s weren't a good time for horror, but The Blair Witch Project seemed to make it a genre tailor made for the kids of the web age. As teenagers we all like to be scared, and suddenly the world offered a host of tools to make scary movies ourselves – what else is the unkillable found footage subgenre all about?

Torture porn and remakes of classic slasher movies have all got shots in the arm (and head) as a result, and there's a new breed of Hollywood exec as a result.

Look no further than Blumhouse Productions for the model. Jason Blum, 44, wields a unique in-house style to making movies that includes no star trailers, union scale pay, short schedules and profit sharing. When he spends chump change ($15,000 on the original Paranormal Activity, $5m for Insidious Chapter 2), kids at multiplexes return it five, 10 and 20 fold.

In fact the New York Times reported that spending $27m on production in the last five years had reaped box office of over $1bn for the company of only 15 employees.

Of course, horror is only hot because it's hot, a gravy train that'll run out like every genre and movement since the invention of the movies. Maybe in the 2030s an aging Jason Blum and his audience will remember the roaring days of yore when the cinemas flowed with bloodstained gold.

In some ways, horror is the angel investment money from which Blum and his contemporaries are planning other things to spring. The company's first comedy production starring Chris Pine is coming soon. Blum is also expanding into TV. His is one of the second-tier micro-studios standing to reap the rewards of Video on Demand as it becomes a force to be reckoned with in Hollywood.

It seems that horror has the capacity to change the business like few other genres. It prompted the video nasty outcry of the 1970s and 80s that further cemented the popularity of the VCR. Before that it was a reflexive expression of social horrors (like the Godzilla and the giant ants and spiders of the atomic age), and before that it represented the golden age of the studio system at its finest because of films like Dracula and Frankenstein. Now it's set to both piggyback and steer the new media age of small screens, anywhere content and the urgency of the first person POV from the world of gaming.

And aside from everywhere else, it's the only genre you can spend a million and get back a hundred million.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Hollywood's new biggest customer

In a long-stagnating North American market, Hollywood knows not only that it can't ignore the enormous buying power of the rapidly emerging Chinese middle class, but that actively courting it is the only path to growth.

The western economies – the traditional market for Hollywood fare – haven't grown very fast since the late 90s even aside from the financial carnage of the GFC. Meanwhile, the costs of making and selling movies have skyrocketed. A $200m budget was the stuff of scandal back when Titanic (1997) was made, but today no self-respecting midyear superhero blockbuster would cost much less.

And marketing costs have risen even faster. According to conventional wisdom, publicising a global-release movie costs as much as making it. That means your $200m extravaganza has to make $800m to break even (after the exhibitors take their 50 percent of box office receipts).

Hollywood is in a perfect storm of what an economics writer once called 'the Western lust for access to the Chinese entertainment market'. Box office revenue reached $2.7bn in China in 2012, outstripping predictions and up 37 percent from 2011 to pass Japan as the second biggest movie market in the world.

So with the box office rising across the world – but not that much – Hollywood either needs a race of movie-loving aliens with disposable income to arrive on Earth, or the burgeoning rich from one of the emerging economies like Brazil, India or the holy grail – China.

Content management

One of the first things affected will be broad release, tentpole films. 1997 saw Richard Gere in Red Corner and Brad Pitt in Seven Years in Tibet, films critical of the Chinese judicial process and supportive of Tibet, respectively, but you'll likely never see movies that criticise China or support their enemies costing more than a few dozen million again. Rule number one of marketing might be not to insult the customer, and in the blockbuster stakes north of $100m, China is automatically a customer.

Content that appeases a foreign market is nothing new. Naomi Klein's 1999 book No Logo claimed Disney's Mulan (1998), using Chinese characters, served its purpose in making Chinese authorities receptive to a $2bn Disney theme park in Hong Kong – even though the film flopped.

More recently, the remake of Red Dawn – which was filmed in 2009 and not released until three years later, was given a pre-release makeover so the invaders were changed from Chinese to North Korean.

The most high profile example of movies tailored for the region was the much-publicised China-only scenes in Iron Man 3, but it proved there's a right and wrong way to adapt a product for a local release. "There was a lot of negative reaction to the Iron Man 3 scenes shot in Beijing and product placement that just felt forced," says Boxoffice.com editor Phil Contrino.

Those hoping to 'buy' Chinese appeal, he says, would do well to remember that the 3D re-release of Titanic was one of the biggest hits in China of recent times, and Avatar is still the biggest Chinese release to this day. Neither film, Contrino points out, had anything specifically tailored to China. "Hollywood is still best at making universal stories and that's what they need to focus on instead of going after easy solutions to reach Chinese movie goers," Contrino adds.

Disney Chairman Bob Iger thinks a smart local sensibility rather than a standardised global rollout of properties is critical. Speaking at a business forum in Chengdu in early June, he said Disney had to 'be very careful'. "On one hand the Disney brand and what it stands for is of interest to the culture... But, it's very ... important that ... in that market it feels like, for instance, China's Disney. It can't just be the Disney that exists in carbon copy form somewhere else in the world."

Dreamworks Animation seems to have done it better than anyone with the announcement of a licensing agreement that saw characters appear at a Macao resort from July 2013. Shrek, How to Train Your Dragon, etc are global properties, but accompanying them are characters from what's been one of Dreamworks' biggest money spinners in China, Kung Fu Panda.

Producing alliances

Hollywood's also signing a gaggle of co-production deals – everything from name brand talent showcasing the culture to production and distribution partnerships.

Paramount is taking a similar approach to Marvel's China-centric deployment of Iron Man 3 with Transformers 4. But rather than tack on a few ill-advised scenes that added nothing to the plot, the studio has teamed up with two major Chinese media companies to create 'a major presence' for the film.

As part of the agreement, director Michael Bay will get help choosing filming locations and actors in China, access to postproduction facilities and heavy promotion of the film to an enormous local customer base.

Meanwhile, everyone else seems to bee getting in on the action too. Jackie Chan has committed to two films with Chinese studio Huayi Brothers. Keanu Reeves' company has an alliance in Shanghai to develop and finance projects. Legendary (the powerhouse behind Chris Nolan's Batman trilogy, Pacific Rim, Man Of Steel and a host of other blockbusters) and Pinewood Studios UK have both signed production deals with Chinese studios. Perhaps most bizarrely, a Chinese/American co-production of Arabian Nights has been given the go-ahead to be filmed in China.

Time Warner are looking even further, signing an agreement with China Media Capital to stake a claim in the growing media sector that will see an explosion of digital devices in the Chinese market and content for people to play on them. If that's true, China might finally break the back of the niggling problem behind delivering movie content to people's iPads and mobiles phones, unraveling complicated rights and licensing issues and ushering in the long-talked about and near-mythical 'iTunes for movies'.

Soft power

All this adds up to one thing. Like no other demographic or group outside the contemporary North American film market the US movie industry was built upon, China has Hollywood over a metaphorical barrel.

But it's not just the sheer number of consumers (EW's Grady Smith says an average of 10 movie screens a day are opening across China). Still the model of centralised and unopposed government control, China's leadership is in a unique position to tell Hollywood bigwigs what to do in exchange for all that action.

Firstly, China itself is doing better because of the new climate in the cinema industry – no doubt helped along by the incredible growth in the local exhibition sector. Chinese films took 70 percent of the total box office in the first three months of 2013, quite a change from 15 or so years ago when there was hardly a Chinese film industry to speak of and around twice as much as the same period in 2012.

It certainly gives Hollywood opportunity for a bigger toehold. After all, American movies are doing better in China all the time. "Kung Fu Panda II was a far bigger hit overseas than it was in North America," Phil Contrino says, "and I think it's safe to say Kung Fu Panda III will be much bigger in China than it will be in North America."

Contrino calls it the 'new reality'. "Even before China's market passes North America's, you'll see a handful of movies a year do better in China. What's more important, North America or overseas? If they're releasing films overseas first, you know the answer."

Another unwitting collective strategy China might be exacting is to buy Hollywood directly. Few other nations have access to the kind of capital it takes to enter the volatile, potentially crippling field of tentpole movies.

Bruno Wu, co-owner of Sun Redrock Group and the man many in America call 'Mr Chinawood', investigated the possibility of buying Summit Entertainment (owner of the money-spinning Twilight franchise and now owned by Lionsgate) in 2011. When asked by Deadline.com whether he'll partner with an American studio for productions, he said 'I think we will probably have to'.

The most tangible example of Chinese money coming directly to America is the 2012 purchase of AMC Entertainment (owner of the AMC cinema chain) by Dalian Wanda Group. Chairman Wang Jianlin went on to say his company had earmarked $10bn for further investment in the US.

Cause and effect

But just like the scientific method teaches us, the observer is likewise affected by the experiment, and China itself is changing, meeting the American interest halfway. An $800m tax-free arts and entertainment hub is being built in Beijing to try and give the local industry a shot in the arm.

China is also courting American filmmakers just as much as studios are courting China. In Rian Johnson's 2012 sci-fi hit Looper, lead character Joe (Joseph Gordon Levitt and Bruce Willis) moves to Shanghai, falls in love and reaches middle age before being sent back in time to confront his younger self.

What really happened? The first draft had Joe act on a lifelong dream to move to France, but during filmmaker Kevin Smith's Smoviemakers podcast, Johnson explained that Beijing's DMG Entertainment gave him a great deal to film there. Thanks to that deal and several pre-sold territories, Looper was almost in the black before a single camera had rolled.

More recently, the Cultural Assets Office of Beijing Municipal Government announced the 2013 Beijing International Screenwriting Competition for American screenwriters, where the winners get an unparalleled opportunity to get their script made and China gets the cream of American writing talent. It's part of a dedicated push by China Phil Contrino says is designed to learn how to do things as good as Hollywood.

"China is making its goal to be less dependent on American movies to fill their box office," he says. "They're getting very good at making films that connect with Chinese audiences. There used to be a lot of stuffy, historical epics because they're obsessed with their history, but now they're making these stories about average Chinese citizens the same way Hollywood makes movies about average Americans."

Such moves already seem to be working – the $500m hit Man Of Steel was knocked off the top of the Chinese box office after one week by local film Tiny Times, a coming of age movie for teenagers.

The dark side

Hollywood falling over itself to entice Chinese ticket buyers gives Chinese media companies and development funds a unique opportunity to call the shots, but the other major player is a government that's openly conservative and oppressive by western standards.

There were raised eyebrows across Hollywood when Quentin Tarantino's violent western Django Unchained (2012) was suddenly pulled from release the day it released. Nobody involved – from Chinese censors to distributor Sony – has been very forthcoming about why the film was so visibly yanked apart from 'technical reasons'.

The news came after reports Tarantino had already edited and altered graphic scenes of splattering blood to meet censorship standards. The State Administration for Radio, Film and Television (SARFT) let Sony release Django Unchained about a month after its abrupt withdrawal and it grossed a paltry $2.75m across China.

So while 'tailoring' and 'editing' are innocuous words for what might go on, what about less palatable terms along similar lines such as 'homogenisation'? Hollywood's long been accused of chasing the lowest common denominator to appeal to the most lucrative quadrants. What happens when it has to play to a state approvals process that takes a dim view of sex and violence – two of the biggest selling points of the movies?

Greenlighting only movies that will meet official Chinese standards in order to gain entry to the marketplace might be good business sense, but might it cause studios to squeeze edgy or challenging material even further out of the system? Grady Smith believe the earning potential of international box office will cause a homogenisation of film.

Phil Contrino agrees, saying digital technology will only making it easier for the studios to roll out localised versions for certain markets. "This will definitely change the way Hollywood thinks about the movies they're making, in particular the scenes that are in those movies," he says. "[Studios] might go in thinking, 'when we send this movie to China we're just going to axe this, this and this scene'."

None of which is to say there isn't a more overt control of content by China as well. The Arabian Nights production mentioned above was given the go-ahead only after SARFT cleared a script synopsis submitted by the film’s producers. "China is in a position where it's pushing back and asserting its power in Hollywood," says Smith.

All this adds up to China falling short of the license to print money Hollywood hopes for so far. Many have already grumbled about hidden agendas, double standards and erratic official behaviour they say is making business impossible.

The recent example of The Life of Pi was a rude shock for executives with Yuan signs in their eyes. After a landmark decision struck by US Vice President Joe Biden last year, the number of Hollywood films released in China would increase in exchange for a guaranteed 25 percent of the box office back to the studios. After The Life of Pi made $93m in China and distributor 20th Century Fox looked forward to their $23m slice, the government suddenly announced a new tax that would reduce Fox's share to barely $2m.

"The China film group is still run by their government," Smith says. "American movies don't always have the easiest time over there – some films are randomly pulled, Batman and Spiderman are forced to open up against each other, and of course China never says it's an aggressive move but it certainly seems to be that way. But you'll never hear anyone in Hollywood say it because they don't want to offend anyone there."

But the gulfs between the cultures, styles of government and business climates of Hollywood and China isn't likely to discourage studio heads from doing their damnedest. "What Hollywood likes is the same as what Hollywood has always liked," Smith says. "Money."

Monday, December 9, 2013

Have things ever been better?

Here's one constant in Hollywood – even more so than gluten free frozen yoghurt stores, buses unloading small town beauty queens and rehab – everything is always getting worse.

No matter when you started working here, you missed the glory days by a decade or so. Today old timers will tell you how much better things were in the 80s. The studio dished out lavish treatment, platters of coke were delivered to your office (and your assistants didn't sue you for sexual harassment when you asked if you could snort it off their breasts) and movies didn't cost so goddamn much you had to partner with private equity firms or the Chinese Ministry of Culture.

Now go back in time and listen to a producer in the 80s whine about their own lot. The studios were only bankrolling big sequels full of special effects and stars who – thanks to all the power the goddamned agents were getting – were demanding tens of millions a picture. Not like in the 70s, when the corporations hadn't taken over and the movies were full of real stories, goddammit!

Now go back a bit further and look around Hollywood in the 60s and 70s, where the panels are sloughing off the fading Hollywood sign overlooking an unkempt, broken city. The few creative (and commercial) triumphs like The Godfather and The French Connection will go down in history, but all the town can talk about is the financial carnage giving the corporations the leverage to swoop in and buy the studios while cinemas sit empty and everyone stays home enjoying the new TV boom thanks to cable. If only things were like the 1940s, goddammit, when stars were mere employees and knew their place and you could shoot everything on a soundstage in Burbank, the weather and traffic be dammned!

You get the idea.

Every time there's a few high profile flops like there was in 2013 there's talk of 'paradigm change' and 'the broken system' and this year they were hard to ignore. Soderbergh's state of independent cinema address, in which he asserted that movies were 'under assault' by studios, and Lucas and Spielberg's use of the word 'implosion' became the default narrative thanks to the profile and legitimacy of the speakers and spread the appropriate amount of authoritative panic.

So it was not only very nice but kind of a relief to read recent comments by John Kilik, a producer with credits as varied as The Hunger Games, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, W and This Must Be The Place to his name.

Standing against almost the entire industry, Kilik did the keynote presentation at the Independent Filmmaker Project's IFP Market, and he reminded us all of some arresting truths.

'It hasn't happened,' Kilik said about the chorus line of pronouncements about the death of the industry this year, 'what has happened is that we now have more ways to make movies and more ways to get people to see them than ever before.'

Kilik's right, and the proof is in the pudding. If you're a casual moviegoer who lines up on at the multiplex on a Friday night to decide what to see, you're probably going to be swayed by Attack of the Man Of Steel in the After Earth Pacific Rim in 5D thanks to the four hundred and eleventy squillion dollar marketing campaign complete with the themed soft drink cup.

If you watch movies for a living, you're going to see a lot of gems in amongst the CGI dross, and you should come away a lot less jaded about the pap movie audiences are fed than the casual moviegoer above.

As Kilik put it; 'Yes it's true that movies have become a crass commercial commodity at times and studios have crowded these spectacles into theaters at a disproportional rate. But it's also true that sensitive, brave, personal, and courageous work is being done everyday. For every tent pole being built pixel by pixel in a Hollywood Laboratory, there is a young filmmaker like Benh Zeitlin going into the bathtub of New Orleans with a small cast and crew and a 16mm camera to create a uniquely personal vision. Beasts of the Southern Wild found its way all the way to the White House and to the Oscars. For every sequel that's being churned out, there is something new and original fighting to be born. It's never been harder and it's never been easier.'

Then came Kilik's kicker – 'I guess it's been like that all along.'

It's as tempting as it is lazy to fall back on the same tired stereotypes about the industry as every other producer, film writer and wannabe director – that movie executives are backstabbing idiots who care more about the finish on their Maserati than making movies, that a $300m 3D sci-fi action movie only making $200m means there's something fundamentally wrong with the movie industry, etc etc etc.

As everyone searches for the next Steve McQueen (12 Years a Slave), Benh Zeitlin or Ryan Coogler (Fruitvale Station) – just like they once did the next Spike Lee, Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarantino or Steven Soderbegh himself – the only certainty is just like the scribe once said; in Hollywood, nobody knows anything.

Read Kilik's speech in its entirety here.

The age-old question

Exactly what does a producer do? There are a lot of stories about it online, but it's very hard to capture definitively. A producer's job seems to apply to anybody associated with a film who makes any kind of business or creative decision but isn't the director.

At the big end of town, an A list star or director might simply pick up a phone, call another A list star or director, say 'hey, you need to talk to (insert name here) about this script I just read.' When audiences sit down to watch the finished product a few months later, the A lister will then have an executive producer credit and a fat cheque from their agent.

In the lo-fi and indie worlds, a producer will work alongside, just in advance of, or be one and the same as the director. He or she will knock on the door of the house and ask if the guerilla shoot films outside for a day. Run to the convenience store for bags of corn chips for the erstwhile craft service table. Make sure nobody's double booked the free editing suite at the university media lab. We like to think the producer on a large film does much the same (albeit with more money and a team of underlings) but as a project gets bigger, the definition grown murkier.

The line between a Hollywood blockbuster made by a big name studio for release on 3,000 screens and the low budget horror film shot in a backyard that doesn't even have a distributor is getting blurrier, so I hesitate to use words like 'official', 'major' or 'system' when describing how a movie reaches a screen, but when a movie comes from an established supply chain, often a producer can just be someone who contributes financing.

We've all watched the seemingly endless title cards of producers, executive producers, line producers and associate producers with incredulity, wondering why a movie needs as many producers as a football team needs players. Here's the extreme case of how Lee Daniel's The Butler ended up with 41 (yes, a four and a one) producers, for example.

But Hollywood itself knows how ridiculous the practice is, and there's usually something in motion by the industry to legitimise the term, most often when some film comes out with dozens of credited producers and the media and industry let out a collective 'this is ridiculous'. The latest attempt is that the Producer's Guild of America (PGA) have convinced all the major studios to adopt a seal of approval, mostly because 'real' producers want to be credited as having done the real work.

From now on when you see a name with the letters 'pga' after it in the credits, it's the Guild's guarantee that person has actually worked to get the movie made, not just gone to the beach for the day so the crew can shoot on the sun deck of their Malibu mansion.

For what it's worth, here's the definition of the term from the world's biggest repository of information, but I'm betting the word 'producer' will always be a very movable feast as everything from the technology to the economics changes faster than any of us can pin it down.