Stardumb … and Dumber
Last
week I ran into a noted film craftsman and as we gabbed over coffee
the inevitable question of “what are you doing?” came up. Well, what
he may or may not be doing next is a thriller financed by Intermedia
titled Me Again. The yarn centering on an amnesiac who is either
a hitman or a lawman is to be directed by Dean Parisot with Diane
Lane and, up until two weeks ago, Bruce Willis attached to
the project.
Willis,
who was reportedly to be paid $30 million as an actor and a producing
partner (via his Cheyenne Enterprises), apparently walked when Intermedia
broached the subject of renegotiating the deal. The fate of the film
will now rest on attracting someone with comparable marquee value because,
despite Lane’s recent Oscar nomination, she will not carry the freight
of hefty foreign pre-sales necessary to float the pricey package.
Me
Again has a metaphoric gun to its head. At any given time there
are about a dozen male performers that command the money and confidence
to carry a picture. The current crop of acceptable alternatives include
people with names like Tom, Mel, Nic and Harrison, and Intermedia will
throw considerable cash and perks to entice them to come aboard within
the next two months.
What
the crafts man was struggling with as he talked about this project in
jeopardy was whether any of these “names” were worth it. Willis’ fee
alone was more than what had been budgeted for all the below-the-line
production costs. And somehow the balance of one person with a recognizable
name tilting the scales against the people who would be providing the
look, rhythm, sound and other sensory components of the film seemed
out of balance.
The
simple answer to the unstated query is that what’s currently accorded
perceived stars is not generally commensurate with what they contribute
to a film’s commercial success or lack of it. The more difficult issue
is how such a glaring inequity came into being and whether there’s any
way to reassess the situation and create a new pivot point that more
accurately reflects and rewards those whose efforts have gone into the
creation of a popular movie. It would unquestionably be a Herculean
task.
Another
production waiting on a green light has an offer out to Nicholas
Cage and, should he be unwilling or unavailable, it will be sent
to Ben Affleck. The film will not be made without a star performer.
Stars
have been a staple of the movie industry since its earliest days. Some
that are now iconographic - Pickford, Chaplin, John Wayne - commanded
top dollar and could use their popularity to dictate cast, crew and
scripts. While a few were truly able to control their artistic destinies,
most were under contract to studios that wrestled and wrangled to keep
their salaries from escalating into the cosmos. That situation began
to change in the 1950s as the impact of television saw the majors cut
back on contract players and that era’s stars elected to go freelance.
One
oft-told saga about the transition recounts how agent Lew Wasserman
convinced his client James Stewart to lower his salary and take
a percentage of profits on the western Broken Arrow back in 1950.
At that time, the definition of profits was simple: it was two and one
half times the negative cost. So, a movie budgeted at $2 million was
in the black once its box office surpassed $5 million. On a similar
note, William Holden reduced his fee on The Bridge on the
River Kwai for profit participation with the caveat that he would
receive no more than $150,000 annually with any overages going into
an interest bearing account. He received that stipend every year until
his death.
The
nature of all these bygone deals involved risk. In exchange for receiving
less than their going rate, the performer would reap a more generous
reward if the film proved to be commercially successful. But that’s
all changed and the current risk adverse nature of star deals where
$20 million paydays and backend profits are standard is not simply the
result of a greedy talent pool.
The
transition begins with a fundamental change in the relationship between
the studios and the people who make movies. Beginning in the 1960s,
the moguls of the halcyon years of Hollywood began to step down and
were replaced by, shall we say, people who were less passionate about
the product. The swan song of the decade was a series of financial fiascos
of elephantine entertainments that forced most of the majors into liquidation
and new ownership by the likes of Kinney Corp. and Gulf + Western. The
new owners brought in bean counters with actuary tables in an attempt
to quantify hits and remove any consideration of the public’s emotional
connection in its movie going. Ironically, the departure of the old
guard also briefly facilitated a new generation of iconoclastic filmmakers
that provided the impetus for such non-traditional box office dynamos
as Easy Rider, M*A*S*H and American Graffiti.
The
new echelon of studio chieftan was over the moon that these pictures
he didn’t understand were connecting with the public in a big way and
began to ponder how the company could keep more of the money that was
coming back in profits. Sometime toward the end of the 1970s, a new
method of accounting was devised that’s known as the rolling break.
No longer would profits accrue once a picture exceeded 2.5 times its
cost. The new system was more complex, involving interest charges even
when the film wasn’t generating revenue and if you didn’t generate on
the plus side quickly, this accounting method guaranteed profits would
never be realized … on paper. On the official ledger, such films as
Rain Man, Forrest Gump and The English Patient
still have a negative balance.
Faced
with a change in the rule book and the frustration of not getting a
fair count, those who could opted for the sure thing - lots of up front
money and a percentage at the back most doubted would bear fruit. Eventually
it evolved into a share of gross revenues rather than a cut after the
picture broke even based upon the new studio arithmetic. From there
with the rise of agency packaging, talent fees have escalated rapidly.
Still,
the presence of name performers does not guarantee a level of box office
will be reached to justify gargantuan fees. No one is bulletproof and
every box office draw has several dark commercial skeletons in his/her
resume.
Several
years back I attempted to quantify what the presence of a perceived
star contributed to a picture’s box office. While less than scientific,
the dozen examined suggested they had a fan base that contributed possibly
$25 million to a film’s gross. On average, movie stars are not the difference
between success and failure but can provide the illusion that they saved
a film from abject catastrophe or contributed to one of the worst fiascos
in film history.
Scratching
a little deeper, one dilemma confronting the industry is the impact
these star salaries have in related areas. If the perceived top talent
can exact $20 million or more, then the next tier will demand $10 million
to $15 million and, I’ve been told, anyone with even a modicum of name
recognition - with or without a clutch of credits - can expect a fee
between $4 million and $7 million. In this heady environment, you cannot
have top executives pulling down $1 million paychecks, so studio salaries
have also been enriched.
However,
good fortune has been considerably less kind to all those “little people”
the likes of Julia Roberts and Willis continue to mention in
passing. When it comes to cost cutting, studios and producers wield
the knife most assiduously in the craft and tech departments. Rather
than coddling the below-the-liners, that sector is kept in check by
reminders that they are expendable and lucky to have a job when so much
work is going to Canada, Australia and Eastern Europe. Their base compensation
barely keeps up with inflation and were it not for overtime, many would
find themselves working for less than they earned just five years ago.
Some
craft unions have negotiated token bonuses for hours worked but the
very prospect that this sector might modestly share in the financial
rewards while their better paid and treated thespian brothers and sisters
own 20 or 30 profit points is anathema to industry leaders. So, an environment
of “us” and “them” has intensified in this collaborative art form. The
joy of contributing has systematically been eroded and replaced with
simply getting a job and a salary. Some might argue that the situation
has taken the heart out of the industry and it’s difficult to disagree
when you look at the marquee and are confronted by The Core,
Basic, Malibu’s Most Wanted, The Real Cancun …
-
by Leonard Klady