It takes a village to raise a pilot. And when I say village I mean that the "How to Be A Better American"/"This Little Piggy" operation is starting to look like a compound. Two buildings and a dozen offices. Lots of hard working and earnest looking people coming and going. Some of them pacing around each other in a parking lot, repeating a script to themselves as if their lives depended on it. All we're missing is an apocalyptic religious vision and five crates of automatic weapons. Perhaps we're not ready to get into a stand off with the FBI just yet, but there are moments when I could see myself instructing Andrew, our office PA, to put down the Trader Joe's bags, hand me the peanut M&M's and ready himself to, "smite our enemies with the fifty cal we mounted near the post production offices."
Okay, that went into a weird place. I apologize. Here's the real blog...
I once described my life as an actor/writer as a long series of slightly desperate job interviews with some spec work in between to break up the monotony. And I was reminded of the truth of that statement this week. Because this was a week of hiring (or rejecting) lots of people. Dozens of aspiring PA's, creative folks, designers, actors and accountants all passed through our door. And their earnest and hopeful faces are burned into my thinking meat. Some left happy and relieved and others left with that "fuck... what did I do wrong?" look on their mugs. But that's the name of the game I suppose. And while this particular aspect of producing can be either joyful or sad, it's never boring.
Quick example (and this actually took place last week). We had one gentleman come into interview with us for a very important position. I won't say what the position was, but I will say this: many jobs on a television show do not require you to enjoy the material being presented. It's not absolutely necessary for the grip, camera operator, transportation guy or the lady that makes those rad cookies for the the crafty table to be super invested in the story. But it's kind of a basic requirement for the job that this turd was vying for. If we hired him we would be working every day with him on the most intimate and important details of the project. So there was a part of me (and not even a desperate, needy part) that wanted him to open with something like, "Great script guys. It's really funny." Instead this man flopped on the couch in my office and proceeded to make snarky comments about the state of comedy, TV execs and humanity in general. He rambled on with the bitterness of a bored college professor who is still kicking himself for taking that first teaching gig instead of staying in Paris with that hot waitress and finishing his novel. It was an amazing thing to behold. He clearly didn't want to be in the room with us, or possibly, to be working in television at all. And of course, in observance of my personal policy of needing to be liked by EVERYONE, the more horrible the interview became, the more I seemed to prolong it.
Now in polar opposition to this miserable man is every single actor in Hollywood. They don't flop on couches and look bored. They look ridiculously eager, and in some cases, straight up crazy. They don't just want this job, they want every acting job available. And your job. And to be loved. And to prove things to doubting family members back home. This, of course, can manifest itself in some pretty weird behavior. Some enter like they were shot out of a cannon after smoking a ton of meth. Anxious and tweaky, they come at you so hard that you start readying yourself for a physical fight. And then there are those that arrive in a hurry and unprepared. They march through the audition with all the passion of a 43 year old truck stop prostitute plying her trade in a sleeper cab. And still others just seem angry. One man spent five minutes telling us how the previous actor (a well known guy) had "taken" every role from him for last five years. He read the audition piece very, VERY sadly and then walked out mumbling to himself.
But these are the exceptions. Most people we interview are highly qualified and excited to work. And 97.45% of the actors that audition are amazingly talented. It's actually very encouraging. And as far as I can tell, the thing that makes the difference in whether we hire, reject, call back or dismiss someone has nothing to do with talent. Instead it is usually some aspect or essence in the person that just sets them apart. You can look at resumes all day, but ultimately it comes down to the "right" person walking in the door. It's a kind of magic that can't really be quantified but it's critical. Because, all other things being equal, I need to be able to see myself working with this person for months... and in success... years. In short, we need to click in some way. It's not something an actor can prepare for or "do better". It just is. And though that might seem a little capricious (or even unfair), it should really be a balm to all those folks auditioning or interviewing. After all this whole fucking thing is basically just one big crap shoot.
That being said, it wouldn't kill some of you to put on deodorant. Or, conversely, to take it easy on the very, VERY powerful perfume you're wearing. Don't be an hour late. Don't insult the script. And try to make a little eye contact. Also, don't be someone who was a huge douche bag to me two years ago and then pretend, awkwardly, that we are pals. That's kind of turns my stomach. Anyway, those are just some tips.
As always, the previous blog is full of typos and mistakes.
Also... I love you.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
THE PROCESS
Friday, February 5, 2010
It's 5:22am. 5-fucking-22am! Can't sleep. Instead I am wide awake and wondering if the CELEBRITY FILM STAR we made an offer to yesterday is really the best choice for our lead. There are half a dozen reasons why I think he's not. So why am I hoping and praying that he reads our script and accepts our offer? That, my friends, is the strange math of pilot season.
Someone commented on the scant bloggery that I've already posted, saying how excited they were that I might be "demystifying" the pilot process. But I have to say, after only a week in the trenches, the notion that I am going to be able to untangle the knobby, chunky, clusterfuck of making a television pilot is kind of hilarious to me. I mean sweet Jeebus, even that last sentence contained a mixed metaphor. It started out in the "trenches" of a war and then wandered into untying "knobby knots". What does that even mean? Is pilot season like being a World War I soldier, sitting in a fetid, blood drowned trench in the middle of battle, desperately trying, for some reason, to untie a very, very badly knotted length of rope? Well, actually, that's not bad. I mean it's not great. But I think it actually goes a fair distance toward describing how it feels some times.
Though that description might be just the tiniest bit dramatic (it's very early), there are a lot of moving parts (metaphor) involved. A lot of considerations to consider. A lot of angles to be calculated (metaphor). And everyone... I MEAN EVERYONE... has an opinion about what you should do. Uh, oh... this is the part of the screed where I tell you how idiotic TV execs are. Get ready for a hard core evisceration of the empty headed turds that run the television industry. Nope. Not happening.
I'm going to do something BOLD here and admit that I think a lot of television executives are pretty darned smart. The vast majority of them are very good at their jobs and have a lot to contribute to the process. The problem isn't their intelligence. The problem is the sheer NUMBER of them. There are so many people allowed to contribute to the process, and all of them want...no... NEED to be heard. And each of these myriad people have a theory as to the best way to proceed. And each of those theories sounds more reasonable than the last. They all have a good point. Well, not all. That's just crazy. But a surprising number of the people involved have an excellent point to make. And seemingly all of those people leave messages with our assistant (yes we have one... his name is Jeff) asking us "to return" as soon as possible so that they can avail us of their excellent idea. Now add to this the brutal fact that any one of these people can, at any moment, get their feelings hurt and throw a wrench into the works (metaphor) and very quickly one can see that, in this environment, making anything resembling a funny half hour of television can be, well, tricky.
It's no wonder that they refer to this whole bunch of shenanigans as a "PROCESS". That is not a very fun word. Think about it for a moment. What else has a process? Making plastic golf tees has a process. Extruding and shaping chicken McNuggets has a process. Paying your taxes, getting divorced, selling a car and anything to do with the legal system are all about process. Your script and best wishes go in one side of this thing and a comedy show come out the other. And what happens in between? (SHIVER)
And here's the sickest part of it: I LOVE IT. I mean I don't LOVE it like I love my daughter or my wife or scallops. But I kind of dig being a part of it. It's never boring and it's better than dancing with old ladies at a retirement home (which I did). And it pays nicely. I haven't been in this very long, but a strategy for dealing with this whirlwind (metaphor) is starting to take shape. The key, it seems, is to keep listening to your gut. It's pretty clear when something feels right or, conversely, when it feels really WRONG. And when your gut is telling you that the thing you're being asked to do or change is incorrect, you have to stand up for yourself. You have to push back. You have to, politely and with respect, defend your show. At least until it becomes very clear that standing up for yourself is a pointless bit of masturbation which will only leave your career in a crumpled heap (metaphor). At that point, the best you can do, is put your head between your knees, exhale and submit yourself to THE PROCESS.
Actual Progress This Week:
2 directors, 2 line producers, 2 casting directors, 1 assistant, 1 PA hired.
Offers out to a lead for "How To Be Better American"
Test deals set up for several actors on "This Little Piggy"
And there's still all of Friday to go. Not too shabby.
PS
This thing is probably lousy with typos and stuff. But you get the point.
It's 5:22am. 5-fucking-22am! Can't sleep. Instead I am wide awake and wondering if the CELEBRITY FILM STAR we made an offer to yesterday is really the best choice for our lead. There are half a dozen reasons why I think he's not. So why am I hoping and praying that he reads our script and accepts our offer? That, my friends, is the strange math of pilot season.
Someone commented on the scant bloggery that I've already posted, saying how excited they were that I might be "demystifying" the pilot process. But I have to say, after only a week in the trenches, the notion that I am going to be able to untangle the knobby, chunky, clusterfuck of making a television pilot is kind of hilarious to me. I mean sweet Jeebus, even that last sentence contained a mixed metaphor. It started out in the "trenches" of a war and then wandered into untying "knobby knots". What does that even mean? Is pilot season like being a World War I soldier, sitting in a fetid, blood drowned trench in the middle of battle, desperately trying, for some reason, to untie a very, very badly knotted length of rope? Well, actually, that's not bad. I mean it's not great. But I think it actually goes a fair distance toward describing how it feels some times.
Though that description might be just the tiniest bit dramatic (it's very early), there are a lot of moving parts (metaphor) involved. A lot of considerations to consider. A lot of angles to be calculated (metaphor). And everyone... I MEAN EVERYONE... has an opinion about what you should do. Uh, oh... this is the part of the screed where I tell you how idiotic TV execs are. Get ready for a hard core evisceration of the empty headed turds that run the television industry. Nope. Not happening.
I'm going to do something BOLD here and admit that I think a lot of television executives are pretty darned smart. The vast majority of them are very good at their jobs and have a lot to contribute to the process. The problem isn't their intelligence. The problem is the sheer NUMBER of them. There are so many people allowed to contribute to the process, and all of them want...no... NEED to be heard. And each of these myriad people have a theory as to the best way to proceed. And each of those theories sounds more reasonable than the last. They all have a good point. Well, not all. That's just crazy. But a surprising number of the people involved have an excellent point to make. And seemingly all of those people leave messages with our assistant (yes we have one... his name is Jeff) asking us "to return" as soon as possible so that they can avail us of their excellent idea. Now add to this the brutal fact that any one of these people can, at any moment, get their feelings hurt and throw a wrench into the works (metaphor) and very quickly one can see that, in this environment, making anything resembling a funny half hour of television can be, well, tricky.
It's no wonder that they refer to this whole bunch of shenanigans as a "PROCESS". That is not a very fun word. Think about it for a moment. What else has a process? Making plastic golf tees has a process. Extruding and shaping chicken McNuggets has a process. Paying your taxes, getting divorced, selling a car and anything to do with the legal system are all about process. Your script and best wishes go in one side of this thing and a comedy show come out the other. And what happens in between? (SHIVER)
And here's the sickest part of it: I LOVE IT. I mean I don't LOVE it like I love my daughter or my wife or scallops. But I kind of dig being a part of it. It's never boring and it's better than dancing with old ladies at a retirement home (which I did). And it pays nicely. I haven't been in this very long, but a strategy for dealing with this whirlwind (metaphor) is starting to take shape. The key, it seems, is to keep listening to your gut. It's pretty clear when something feels right or, conversely, when it feels really WRONG. And when your gut is telling you that the thing you're being asked to do or change is incorrect, you have to stand up for yourself. You have to push back. You have to, politely and with respect, defend your show. At least until it becomes very clear that standing up for yourself is a pointless bit of masturbation which will only leave your career in a crumpled heap (metaphor). At that point, the best you can do, is put your head between your knees, exhale and submit yourself to THE PROCESS.
Actual Progress This Week:
2 directors, 2 line producers, 2 casting directors, 1 assistant, 1 PA hired.
Offers out to a lead for "How To Be Better American"
Test deals set up for several actors on "This Little Piggy"
And there's still all of Friday to go. Not too shabby.
PS
This thing is probably lousy with typos and stuff. But you get the point.
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