November 20, 2002

The Architect, the Contractor and the Client

The ballots have been tabulated … and the Oscar goes to …

Ooops, wrong campaign. Yes, the ballots were counted last week and the results announced. But the contest involved changes to the method(s) in which writing credits are determined in motion picture and television production. The whole issue of credit where credit is due has been an on-going and intense debate within the Writers Guild of America membership. It’s visited and re-visited endlessly and, in this latest round, the drafters of new rules and regs decided to split up issues into separate proposals for ratification or dismissal.

What’s problematic in general is that the discussion and resolution cannot separate matters pertaining to commerce and industry politics, as well as, creative rights, ego and, frankly, that big word “authorship.” Receiving credit on a respected film or television series may enhance one’s feeling of self worth that’s otherwise difficult to legislate let alone draft into the guild’s arbitration process. Screen credit in those instances also has a direct impact on one’s other worth - the subsequent remuneration received because a writer is associated with “good work.”

Good work in Tinseltown often means popular entertainment. Credit and where it’s positioned, especially when it has to be shared, has a value … a dollar value. Writers cannot expect a Tom Cruise or even a Michael Bay payday, but, thanks to negotiations by the WGA with the studios and networks, there are dividends to be had when members work for the first window (theaters and TV premieres) echoes into ancillary territories (Pay-cable, VHS, DVD).

Guild members approved such ballot measures as ranking credit in order of size of contribution, clarification of “original” work and anonymity for writers during arbitration. What failed to pass muster was the proposition that lessened the amount of work a producer or a director had to contribute to a finished work in order to secure credit. Proponents of the failed measure were unable to convince WGA members that new guidelines would provide at least the current level of protection that a “first writer” receives should a script be scrutinized to determine credit.

In an eloquent Counterpunch letter in the Los Angeles Times, writer John Lawton (Pretty Woman) convincingly detailed how the new proposal could worsen already thorny procedures that threaten to rob lesser known screenwriters at the hands of high profile re-writers. Briefly put, the best financial interests of the polishers favor dumping as much of the original scribe’s labors to secure a shared and, sometimes, sole screen credit. He wrote: “the temptation to be last in the development food chain is usually too great to resist. You can get all the credit, and a lot more money, for a lot less work.”

Lawton characterized the manner in which things go from ideas and scripts to finished films in the theatrical arena as “completely upside-down.”

His observations and the debate over the issues brought me to consider the role of the writer in the process. On the face of it, I’m prone to rest my sympathies with the writer or writing team who execute the initial script. Granted nothing is created under strict lab conditions. Still, whether one is dealing with a spec or a commissioned piece, the buyer ultimately has the option to acquire or reject. If he opts for the former, it’s difficult to make a case that he bought it to make an entirely different movie. All subsequent work genetically traces back to the original manuscript even if the shooting version has re-named and changed the sex and relationship of characters, altered situations and re-written dialogue completely, changed the venue, period, beginning, middle and end.

Contractually speaking, the buyer agrees to an exchange. For certain considerations (money, credit, etc.) the writer provides a document. He’s then cut out of the process, unless his savvy representative snookered the buyer into further involvement. But generally speaking should buyer’s remorse set in after the sale, the owner rarely goes back to the seller to renegotiate. Instead, he’ll work against himself and diminish the value of his acquisition with ghastly renovations.

What struck me about a range of scenarios was that making a movie was rather like having a house built. In contemporary America the number of people capable of doing it themselves is rather limited. So, if you have the wherewithal, the smart thing to do is hire an architect, sit down with him (or her), discuss your needs and have him go off and create the blueprint for your future home based upon discussion, questions and such cold realities as location, costs and physical demands. Prior to the final rendering there will likely be further conversations. Again, the buyer can ultimately say “no” if the architect delivers plans which fail to reflect what it is you want. Though costly and time consuming, the process begins anew.

Upon receipt of an acceptable blueprint, the architect leaves and the contractor steps in. He directs the construction, employing a basic crew and specialists to realize the architect’s vision. He may also call the architect back or employ a new one should some unforeseen glitch such as porous soil arise unexpectedly.

Substitute writer for architect, producer or studio for client and director for contractor (and replace film terms for construction parlance) and the above situation reads exactly the same. Unless he’s a hyphenate, contractors don’t pose as architects and home owners have a hard time convincing friends they built the house. Input, yes, but drawing the blueprints and instruct workers what to do on a daily basis is difficult to swallow when Charlie and Mary are holding down day jobs.

While the industry is fond of mouthing homilies such as “you can’t make a good film from a bad script,” what it really believes - harking back to Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard - is that the actors make it up as they go along. That plays out to allow all manner of animal which otherwise is incapable of constructing or parsing a sentence to believe they write the shooting script. And, if you believe that, abandon the WGA and have the studios and networks have the suits in the executive suites sit down at the keyboard and prove it.