John August

QandA

Should I worry about a competing project?

Film Industry, Producers, QandA

questionmarkI have a script about a big event in American history told from my personal viewpoint. A star is looking at it and it is a finalist at a prestigious writing lab. It is also with three important producers (including an Academy Award winner). It was always considered a “small independent film.”

Suddenly. last week an A-list producer wants my script. I asked myself why? Then I found through the trades, a major studio, producer and director are making a movie about this same event. There is a well known writer attached. But no script yet.

What should I do? Let my project die? Or go to the competition and drum up buzz? Suddenly my little personal script has become “commercially viable.” This is stuff I would discuss with an agent or manager, but presently, I have neither.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Again, thanks.

— Sung Ju
Venice, CA

I originally misread your question, and assumed that it was the competing project’s producer who was trying to buy your script — perhaps in the hopes of squashing it. That’s rare, but it does happens, and I’d have a hard time giving you helpful advice.

But since it’s apparently a completely different A-list producer who wants your script, let me lift my virtual 2×4 and smack you gently with it. Sell, Sung Ju, sell.

You have no agent, no manager, and no compelling reason to say no. If you like the A-list producer, go for it. The fact that there’s a competing project shouldn’t slow you down. In fact, it lights a fire under your producer to try to get your movie into production before the other one. And as a well-known screenwriter, let me assure you: lots of projects get started that never make it into production. (CoughTARZAN).

So go for it. Let the A-list producer hand-deliver you to an agency. Even if your script never gets made, your career has begun.

The only reason to put on the brakes would be if you intend to direct the movie yourself as a small-budget indie. If that’s truly your heart’s ambition, then don’t go with the giant producer. You need to be matched up with someone who makes movies of your size with first-time filmmakers. The screenwriting lab would likely be the place to get hooked up.

Either way, write back in six months and let us know what happened.

Because nothing says quality like a cow

Film Industry, Los Angeles

In an article in today’s LA Times about his collaboration with Laura Dern, director David Lynch bemoans how expensive Academy Award campaigns have become:

So in what must have looked like a scene from one of his own films, Lynch recently made a “For Your Consideration” sign touting Dern, hired a piano player and a cow named Georgia and sat for about four hours at Hollywood Boulevard and La Brea Avenue and another four in front of the Tower Records store on the Sunset Strip.

“It was the greatest cow,” Lynch said.

“People would come up wanting to pet the cow and talk. So many people came up and said they wanted to help. So there is a part of us that can see through [the hype]. All I want is to try get the word out.”

Follow up: What job should I beg for?

Directors, Film Industry, Follow Up, QandA

follow up
Continuing the tradition of readers following up on previous answers, we hear back from the guy who wondered what the best job on a movie set would be for him to learn more about filmmaking.

Here’s the original question and answer:

A friend of mine is a writer whose work has been lucky/funny enough to make it to the big screen. The sequel has been greenlit and he just shot me an email letting me know that he’s signed on as the director! I am an aspiring screenwriter and I understand how valuable it is to be on set and get a bird’s eye view of the process. So my question is this:

What job should I beg him for? I’ve got no on-set experience and I’m not sure how much staffing power the director has, or in what areas he has it. I don’t want to ask for something completely unrealistic and appear foolish. I am, however, eager, ambitious and a very hard worker. I’ll carry their luggage, haul equipment or simply make sure the toilet paper is properly stocked — if I can just get a peak at the process, write during my down time and make friends/connections. I’d kill for this opportunity. I just need to know…um…. what opportunity exactly, I’m killing for.

— J.R.

If the budget allows him to have an assistant, that’s the job you want. By shadowing him, you’ll get the broadest perspective of preproduction, production and post.

Maybe he already has an assistant, or the budget won’t allow him to have one. Then it gets a little harder to figure out the right spot for you.

Assuming you can drive a car, answer a phone and work long hours, you can be an office PA. You’ll learn a lot about the logistical side of filmmaking, but won’t have a ton of on set exposure — you’re running back and forth from the office a lot. You’ll be taking orders from a production coordinator, who will generally send you for a pickup in Santa Monica when you just got back from Venice. On the plus side, you’ll get to know your LA geography a lot better, and become familiar with the various vendors and production houses.

While an office PA can learn on the job, an on-set PA actually needs to know what he’s doing. There’s a useful guide you can download, but a large part of the job is simply anticipating what’s going to happen next, and that only comes with experience. But everyone has to start somewhere, so if you can convince the first and second AD’s (who oversee the PA’s) that you’re a quick learner, they might bring you on. But always keep in mind that you’re working for them, not your buddy the director.

If you’re competent with a videocamera, another possibility is to shoot the behind-the-scenes footage. That certainly gives you access. Just make sure not to step on the toes of the actual filmmakers.

If it’s not possible to get a real job on the movie, it’s absolutely worth asking your friend if you can visit set a few times during production. Just make sure that when you do, you make yourself a ghost. The best set visitors aren’t just invisible — they’re almost immaterial, and never in the way when you turn the set around. The safest place to hover is generally near craft service; they pick that location to be close to the set but never in the way.

JR wrote back yesterday…

In October of this year I wrote you asking what job I should beg my writer-turned-director friend for on the set of his new movie. After reading your response I immediately went to beg for an assistant job — preferably on set since that would obviously be the biggest thrill for me — but made it clear that office PA would be terrific as well (naturally, no begging and choosing). He already had an assistant, but promised to do what he could to get me on as a set PA. He also informed me that since the film is shooting outside of California, he’d have to speak with the executive producer to make sure that I wouldn’t jeopardize any tax credits they’d be receiving from the state in which they are working. Lastly he’d have to speak with his ADs to make sure they were fine with a quick learner with no experience.

As it turned out, the assistant directors were cool and I didn’t kill the tax credits. I’m a set PA!! The ADs have been extremely friendly. They’re communicating as much information as they can before production begins in January so that we can lessen my learning curve as much as possible. The PA handbook you shared has also been invaluable. I’m truly grateful for your help and insight.

In January I’m leaving my 9-5 to go on set for 3 months and play a (small) part in creating something that’s been an indescribable part of my life. I’m beyond ecstatic. What little downtime I have will be spent writing, conning the right folks into reading it, and trying to network my way into my next job. I’d appreciate everyone’s tips and or experiences in accomplishing these things if you’d care to share.

Thanks again,
JR

Clive Cussler really, really dislikes Sahara

Adaptation, Big Fish, Charlie, Film Industry, Los Angeles, Projects

Today’s LA Times has a lengthy article about Clive Cussler’s lawsuit over SAHARA. It’s a fun, gossipy read, partially because I’ve had beers with many of the people involved:

For those who don’t have time to read the article, I’ll summarize the moral: be very careful when adapting the work of living authors. Particularly when they go on about how much they hate Hollywood.

Cussler had unprecedented and frankly unconscionable control over the adaptation. He bitched and bullied and couldn’t be placated. And if the resulting movie was less-than-stellar, well Mr. Cussler, three fingers are pointing back at you.

But on another level, I get it. Screenwriters are used to seeing their material altered, mangled and reinterpreted. Screenwriting is part of a process, and the craft can only support medium-sized egos.

The novelist, on the other hand, is God. And God doesn’t like to be told he’s a crotchety old jerk who’s been coasting on a mediocre franchise for years. I sympathize with Cussler’s dilemma: he wanted a big movie to bring new readers to his books, without any risk of the cinematic version replacing his literary one. Dirk Pitt has black hair, damnit! It says so here on page two! He wanted Hollywood on his terms.

Have fun with that lawsuit, Mr. Cussler.

My own experiences with adaptations have been more positive. (How couldn’t they be?)

For A WRINKLE IN TIME, Madeleine L’Engel functioned through a trusted producer, and while I had some significant disagreements over what plot points really needed to stay or go, at least I wasn’t arguing with the author. BIG FISH was a love fest from the start, with author Daniel Wallace so intrigued by the screenplay form that he became a screenwriter himself. And CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY was made with the blessing of — and little interference from — the Roald Dahl estate.

What lessons should an aspiring screenwriter take from the SAHARA debacle? For starters, remember that the unhappy stories get press simply because of the train-wreck factor. Most times, the author and screenwriter have a decent relationship — if they have one at all. A smart novelist remembers that the existence of a movie doesn’t change anything about the book sold at Barnes and Noble. And the smart screenwriter remembers to praise the author at the press junket.