Tuesday, August 1, 2023

Writing Tip #40: Advising Producers....

Winning the Kairos Prize for "I, John"

A friend asked me to talk with a recent college graduate who had moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career as a screenwriter. I readily agreed. I enjoy shining the light of cynicism upon hopeful young minds.

Of course, I had to first commiserate with the young writer. She had ventured to LA just as the WGA went on strike. Since her ambition is to be a comedy writer on a series, she was completely screwed. As least us poor nonunion feature writers could still write spec scripts and pitch them to non-signatory production companies without being blackballed.* (Find out who is a signatory here.) Sadly, if you want to write on a series, you're pretty much out of the business for the time being.

One of the questions the young woman asked me was whether the people who bought my scripts were interested in my opinions on production. Although I have sometimes been consulted on casting, the answer is generally a firm no! To my many producers, a screenwriter is a screenwriter. My opinion outside of that realm is irrelevant.

That's a pity. Because I am more experienced in the movie business than some of the producers I have worked with.

First, before I say anything else, I want to say that I have worked with some producers of whom I would never dream of giving any advice whatsoever. For example, one of the producers of Titanic expressed interest in one of my scripts. Although we did not have a formal option agreement, he developed it through a series of revisions. He was brilliant. Every change he suggested worked and bettered the script. Sadly, in the end, his backers felt the script was "too American" and didn't have sufficient international appeal to be a major studio release. However, I don't regret any of the time I spent working with him. I have a better script now as a result.

Sadly, that has not always been the case.

I was once hired to rewrite a feature film project based on a novel. The film had two directors, who worked on the screenplay together. The first director, whom I met on some other projects, knew the script had problems. The second director thought the script was fine. I agreed with the first director and offered to rewrite the script in return for a fee and an associate producer credit.  (I read the script and I knew I wouldn't change enough to warrant a writing credit.)

I rewrote the script in a couple of weeks, after doing some research on the subject matter. I was even invited on a location scout. However, when I presented the revised script, the second director shot down every revision. He didn't argue with the logic of the changes. Instead, he argued no changes could be made because the original script was already budgeted and they didn't have the money to make any changes at that late date.

I told him that their budget number was important, but a second number was even more important: return on investment. I told him staying true to the current budget number was pointless if the film didn't generate a profit. Making an inadequate film would simply flush that entire amount down the toilet. They had the potential to make a very good indie film, but it would cost a little more to do so. I told them exactly what would happen to their film unless they raised more money, but my words were wasted. The second director wouldn't budge.

They made the film. When I saw the title listed on the IMDB, I added my associate producer credit. Someone on their team promptly removed it. I never saw the film when it became available. I knew it would just piss me off if they didn't honor my contractual on-screen associate producer credit. Life's too short for unnecessary disappointment.

I saw the first director a year or so later. I asked him how the film did. He said everything I predicted happened. Their slavish devotion to the first number limited the second, more important, number.

I had almost exactly the same problem on another film. I was contracted to write a script based on a treatment by an indie producer/director. It was a fine little script. However, before the shoot, half of the budget went away. They still had the money to shoot. They just didn't have the budget to get name actors anymore. I strongly recommended that they wait until they could get more money. Without a box name, their film would never get a decent release.** This was a particularly tragic because there was a singing role. If you have a good singing role, you can usually get a well-known singer for surprisingly little money since most singers really want to be actors and vice-versa.

Despite my pleas, they shot the film on the lesser budget. The end product was pretty good. Some nice heartfelt performances. However, the lack of a box name resulted in absolutely terrible distribution.

You might be asking yourself: Is this writing advice? Yes, it is. How you interact with producers, and directors, will shape your career.

Don't be afraid to speak up prior to the shoot if you think a mistake is being made, but pick your battles sparingly and know your place. Inexperienced screenwriters tend to think that everything that doesn't line up with their personal vision is a mistake. Film is a collaborative business. Your film will never primarily reflect your vision. Get used to it -- or become a novelist.

Here's one final example about picking your battles. 

My faith-based spec script "I, John," is perhaps the cornerstone of my commercial success as a screenwriter. I sent it to faith-based pioneer David A.R. White. He liked it and subsequently hired me to write a number of films. The script later became a 2012 winner of the $50,000 Kairos Prize for Screenwriting. That was nice! The script was finally optioned after I listed it on InkTip.

Here's the logline: An obscure comment by Jesus Christ led many to believe the apostle John would survive until the Second Coming. "I, John" addresses that possibility when cryptic statements made by a homeless holocaust survivor while under anesthesia in a hospital starts a chain reaction of speculation that he might indeed be the beloved disciple.

The lead in the film is Samuel Brombeck, the arrogant, atheist surgeon who treats the would-be apostle in a hospital. The production company who optioned the script decided to change the sex of the lead to suit the mood of the times. So Samuel Brombeck became Sarah Brombeck. I didn't like it, but I didn't fight it because I didn't think it fatally compromised the story.

The script went through a number of changes during development. I made most of the changes myself. I pride myself on being a team player. However, one of the producers suddenly he decided didn't like the primary miracle to which the entire film builds. Why? Because he felt there were generally too many miracles in faith-based films as a genre. He didn't feel that was a realistic. Therefore, he wanted it cut despite the fact that it was the heart of the film.

I fought that change. I understood what he meant and why he wanted to make the change. There are indeed too many miracles in faith-based films. But "I, John" was never meant to be a realistic, contemporary drama. "I, John" is a religious fantasy. Period. The story is about a two thousand year old man. If the audience could accept that -- and they would -- bringing a woman back to life wouldn't raise an eyebrow. More importantly, I knew letting that woman die would be a surprise left turn that would actually anger the audience. It was a fatal mistake that would kill the movie.

I tried to explain to the producer that he was making a category error. To eliminate the miracle from the script would be equivalent to taking the Aslan character out of the Narnia movies because lions can't speak in the real world. That's true. But they sure speak in Narnia!

The producer asked their intended director make the changes. They were terrible, not only in regard to internal logic but also basic screenplay structure. I felt bad for her. She was doomed. The producer only gave her a week or two to fit, as it were, fifty pounds of $hit into a two pound sack. When the option came up for renewal again, I demurred. I told them I would only let them show the original draft they optioned to their new investors. They reluctantly agreed. When that option period ended, I took the script back and removed all of their changes. I have subsequently rewritten it and I am happier than ever with the result.

Personally, I thought the production company should have listened to me. I knew the faith-based marketplace. I had written twelve faith-based films and seen dozens more. I knew what worked. I knew what audiences wanted and what they would accept.

But, in their eyes, what did I know? I was only the screenwriter.

Here's the truth. They don't have to listen to your advice.

What can you do about it? Not much.

Just make sure your option agreement doesn't give them the opportunity to keep renewing it indefinitely. Keep an escape clause.

As I said in an earlier blog: Sometimes You Have To Say No!

You can read "I, John" here:

*I fully support the strike and the goals of the union. Joining the union is now a major goal of mine. In fact, I optioned a spec script of mine earlier this year with the proviso that it becomes a WGA project when funding comes through. Needless to say, the strike adds a wrinkle to that proposal....

**Who is a box name? Easy. If you mention an actor to a normal consumer and they know who it is, that person is a box name. If you need to mention more than one credit, they are not a box name! An actress who appeared in N.C.I.S. three times is not a box name. The tenth lead in Titanic is not a box name.

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