Friday, December 28, 2007

Will Somebody Please Save These People From Themselves*




A couple pertinent strike-related news items came out today that I felt compelled to comment upon. Anything to put-off working on my Year End piece I suppose. They are as follows:

Letterman Makes Deal With Writers.

Followed later in the evening by the official press release.

In short, David Letterman’s production company, Worldwide Pants (which is not to be confused with CBS Television, the network), has agreed to the Writer’s Guild’s terms and has secured a waiver for both the “Late Show with David Letterman” and “The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.” The Writer’s Guild leaderships goes on to commend Letterman for agreeing to the “integrity and affordability” of their proposals stating that this is an important strategic move in brokering an industry-wide resolution.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This is why I feel, the Writer’s Guild will ultimately gain nothing from this alleged work-stoppage, with a special gift basket of nothing delivered at the doors of the “little guys” in the guild whom this strike is supposed to be about. In addition to the lack of clarity over their demands, the lack of solidarity and conviction by the Guild’s leadership has been undermining the work stoppage since day one. Either you’re flinging your wooden shoes into the machinery or you’re not. There are no half-measures with this one.

The issue was never whether the benevolent David Letterman, Writer’s Guild member, edgy cat and all-around burr in the side of corporate America would support the union’s demands. Letterman may be a successful entrepreneur and television mogul with an enterprise worth hundred of millions of dollars, but he’s also an entertainer. Furthermore he knows those Top 10 sketches and Paul Shaffer songs about hot dogs don’t write themselves. Furthermore, he's able to sniff out a competitive advantage when one's presented to him. The move was a no-brainer for him, as it would be for Leno or Conan. Or for that matter Jerry Bruckheimer ("C.S.I.")or Bad Robot ("Lost") or Dick Wolf ("Law & Order"). Because, you see, the WGA isn’t striking to bring about change from individual producers. The enemy here is The Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers. Collectively. Just as Writer's belong to an organization that collectively negotiates and protects their rights, whether it effects them or not, so to do the producers. But in the eyes of an individual producer such as Letterman (or any of the aforementioned production shingles), this waiver represents nothing more than a case by case contract renegotiation. A bump in after-air/alternate media residuals to keep the workforce happy. Since it’s their pie, they’re free to slice it up however they see fit. Essentially, the waivers push the writers' problems onto the show's producers, with the real people causing the harm and getting rich (the networks and the studios) remaining blissfully removed.

But how exactly is that helping the cause? Sure twenty writers (who, it’s been informally reported, make in excess of six figures a year) get to return to their jobs with new WGA-approved contracts. Letterman is viewed as a savior both to the WGA (already showing favor towards the man, paving the way for his show to be the first to hammer out an arrangement such as this in addition to this recently published release) as well as to his network. But here’s where the kick in the balls comes in: CBS gets to reap the benefits of that WGA approval while still continuing to be a part of the very system that’s (allegedly) keeping writers down. A textbook case of having your cake and eating it too.

So what exactly does Letterman get out of this deal? Well for starters he gets to return on January 2nd at full steam, with the writers Dave is comfortable with, able to perform an opening monologue (something union leadership has warned Leno and Conan not to do) as well as employ his usual routine of skits and audience Q&A’s while killing time before this month’s hot starlet and Oscar-grubbing star spend time on his couch. Oh yeah, that’s the other thing: no WGA picket-lines outside the Ed Sullivan. So, the few remaining actors with principles no longer have to fret over angering another union over crossing a line to shamelessly promote their new product. I’ll give you a for instance. Let’s say you’re Tom Hanks. Your new movie is horribly underperforming in a crowded winter marketplace and it’s time to slap a Band-Aid on the situation by hitting the late night, talk show circuit. Do you go on Jay where you’re might run into Aaron Sorkin or Akiva Goldsman carrying picket signs (oh, who am I kidding… the guys Aaron and Akiva paid to carry picket signs) or do you stick to Dave and Craig where you’ll be patted on the back for supporting “the good guys?”

So what’s the big deal you ask? Isn’t some progress better than none? No, not when it comes about like this. Because the WGA is cherry picking who it is they do and do not want to guide through this painful period in our national history which is sure to be remembered for a proliferation of hastily conceived reality shows, game shows, reruns from sister networks and more televised sports (I don’t think CBS has ever looked forward to March Madness more than it does this year). Worldwide Pants has agreed to a waiver. Does anyone doubt for a second, if given the opportunity that Leno or Conan or “The Daily Show” would not jump at the opportunity to sign one as well? Does anyone else find it suspect that the WGA is creating semantics arguements to justify that this is a deal with Worldwide Pants and not CBS, (the alledged reason that Jay and Conan are SOL is they are considered employes of NBC/Universal and not entities unto themselves)? But that’s not how the WGA is playing this one. They’re anticipating the return of those shows to be such abject failures that their desperation (especially in the face of Letterman operating at 100%) creates even more leverage. I’m not quite sure what Letterman did to be placed in such a lofty position of unfair creative advantage though. Or for that matter how it was deemed that it was acceptable for CBS to benefit but not NBC or Comedy Central.

The favoritism as lobbying for position continues elsewhere. It was recently reported that the Golden Globes were denied a waiver from the WGA and as a result may not be televised . Before everyone starts making obvious jokes about one less bloated award show or how “we’ll never know who gets drunk” it should be pointed out that the WGA granted waivers to both the Screen Actor’s Guild Awards (broadcast on TNT a subsidiary of Time Warner) as well as the Film Independent Spirit Awards (broadcast live on the Independent Film Channel and later on AMC, both subsidiaries of Cablevision). So what we’re to take away from this is some award shows are acceptable for movie stars to grace the red carpet unfettered by noisy picketers and heavy consciences but others are not. Namely the Hollywood Foreign Press, who serve (seemingly) no other purpose than to hand out trinkets in the weeks leading up to the Academy Awards. Again, I’m forced to ask, does anyone really believe that if push comes to shove that Daniel Snyder (owner of Dick Clark Productions which produces the show, the Washington Redskins and BFF of Tom Cruise) wouldn’t agree to a similar waiver that would allow the stars to shine at his awards show and for the whole event to broadcast at NBC? But what’s to be gained from that? The cancellation of the Globes is nothing more than a shot across the bow at the Academy Awards: You see what we did to them, well we’re coming for you next.

And since no one seems to be asking it, then I must: what is an industry pocked with a handful of waivers really going to matter when (because no one can honestly believe it’s a case of “if”) the work-stoppage is resolved? What happens if the WGA folds on their demands, or at the very least compromises on some of them? I mean, it’s not like you’re not giving some of the studios an advantage anyway by letting them make money off new original content while your brothers and sisters in arms continue to “starve” on the picket line, right? I eagerly await the announcement that since Reveille Productions sent a plate of muffins to WGA leadership, “The Office” and “Ugly Betty” can resume production. But I digress: back to the earlier issue. Wouldn’t these waivers be as worthless as the Confederate dollar in 1866? What would bind a production company to adhere to a contract out of step with the rest of the industry? And conversely, how would the rest of the rank and file react to some productions having more amenable bylaws than others simply by virtue of being on the waiver pecking list? I thought this strike was supposed to be for all future generations of writers. Strength through unity and all that jazz. How does this move reflect that candy-coated sentiment in the slightest?

And then there are the real losers of this latest development: WGA feature film writers, who don’t stand to benefit as heavily as their TV-brethren from weekly streaming content. Who could probably give fuck-all about Reality TV and animation. Who stand to benefit not at all from Waivergate (if this term catches on, I want to be on record as coining it) who, most importantly, stepped away from their Power Books and potentially lucrative paychecks to support their poor, exploited television writing cousins. Because it was the right thing to do. What could they possibly be thinking right now, as they continue to metaphorically (I can only hope not literally) go hungry while they’re future is sold out from underneath them by short-sighted management. For this they gave up months (and counting) of employment?

I’m over the strike frankly. I’m industry, but in an especially apt irony, I work in a sector of the industry that isn’t successful enough to be negatively affected by the strike so I’m more or less observing from a safe distance. I’ve kept my eye on the trades, regularly read Finke and Poland, have watched the battle lines being drawn, have seen the number of recordings on my Tivo dwindle. I’ve been hopeful for a speedy resolution but not a hasty one. I am not a WGA member (although I suppose on some level I can’t deny that I’d like to be one some day, if only for what is implied by said membership) so I can not pretend to be swayed by the same issues that have emptied the writer’s rooms out in front of the Warner’s Gate on Barham and the Paramount Gate on Melrose. But if it was decided that a strike was required to change the industry then I accepted my small sacrifice of less television and the realization that almost every big budget movie rushed into production for next summer will be even more shitty than usual. But, it could be rationalized, even as just a consumer, that these are small prices to pay for the greater good.

However I now feel betrayed. So I can only imagine how the membership at large is feeling right now, no matter how leadership spins this:

Guess what folks: you’ve jeopardized your livelihood, your careers and the security of yourself and your families so the men and women who feed lines to Rupert at the Hello Deli can get a slight increase in their residuals for online content. Wait a minute, Worldwide Pants doesn’t control that: CBS does, so I suppose it’s their prerogative whether or not they honor the waiver agreement. The important thing is two dozen of you are going back to work and we get to increase Les Moonves’ bottom line. Smells like victory to us.

Smells like something alright.


* Line courtesy of WGA member Peter Morgan

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Ramble On

Was turned away from another big, holiday, awards contender screening tonight, my second in a week. Apparently claiming you write for The House Next Door doesn’t mean much in L.A. So, an opening in my evening means lots of free form blogging. If I’d just get on the twitter bandwagon already something like this would be unnecessary.

**

Turned 27 on Saturday which, as everyone knows, is the dead rockstar age. It’s telling that I received more congratulatory emails from the Pepsi Corporation, radio message boards and (TMI alert) porn sites I subscribed to in college than from actual friends. Still, I actually had a pretty good time playing cards with a big group of people till 1 in the morning. The beer was cold, the conversation was lively, they stuck candles in homemade congo bars and I ended up winning $25 with a 2-7 off-suit. I certainly hope I’m not looking back on the day 40 years from now as “one of the good ones” but all things considered it could have been a lot worse.

**

I fly back to Boston on Wednesday and I’m not looking forward to it. Because of all sorts of logistic hoops I need to jump through for this trip, I was unable to book a direct flight from LAX to Logan, which means I’ll be heading to Atlanta first then flying up the eastern seaboard arriving in Boston sometime in the late evening. All in all, it’s looking to be an almost 10-hour travel day and that’s assuming the ice storms that have been pummeling New England for the best week don’t mess things up any further. It’s times like this I wish I had an iPod, particularly one of those kickass touch-screen ones where you can watch episodes of “The Office” that the writers aren’t getting royalties for. As is, I’ll be listening to something like fifteen hours worth of stockpiled O&A on my XM, although with battery life being what it is I’ll be lucky to hear a 1/3 of that. I haven’t been back for a year and yet I feel like it’s been way too recent for my liking. I really should phase this part of my life out already. After the initial buzz of seeing my family wears off, it really does come down to me watching my ass expand while I channel surf and bitch about how cold it is for ten days. On the upside I can finally watch a Pats game at a decent hour. Something about watching a game at 10:30 in the morning just isn’t right.

**

One upside to going back to Boston: HBO on Demand. It’s like crack it is. And it’s absolutely the future of home entertainment. My impressive wall of dvd’s might make for a fun conversation piece but they’re about to go the way of the dodo. In the future, every movie you could possibly want to watch will be at your fingertips. Who’d ever bother with waiting on Netflix again? First point of business: the first episode of the fifth (and final) season of “The Wire” which is allegedly available early on Demand. I’d hoped to get the entire new season in advance as I’d done in the past in order to give a little closure to my anthology on the film’s credit sequences but my emails to my former editor went unreturned (no surprise there). Guess I’ll just have to be patient and download them as they air.

**

Big winter movies still to see: There Will be Blood, Charlie Wilson’s War, Sweeny Todd and most importantly Alien vs. Predator 2. I kiiid.

**

In anticipation of There Will be Blood I found myself rewatching Boogie Nights for the first time in ten years. Wow has that film aged badly. I’ve never been a big PT Anderson guy but Boogie Nights was the film of his I stomached the best, or at least I did when I was 17. Yet it really does lay out every horrific tendency as a filmmaker he possessed in the late 90’s. A “more is never enough” aesthetic that trickled down to everything from the soundtrack, which never met a cutesy 70’s staple it didn’t love and demand to be piped in over every scene (Anderson really is categorically terrified of letting scenes play out over silence), to the histrionic performances to the nascent adolescent dialogue to the dick-wagging (literally) steadicam shots which seem to exist only for their own amusement. Yeah it’s got style and energy, but so does City of God and who the hell wants to watch that again?

**

Speaking of dick-wagging steadicam shots, how awful is Atonement? In the interest of staying up to date both with cinema trends and the Golden Globes (when will I learn?) I checked out a matinee at the new Arclight Sherman Oaks this weekend. I skipped Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice despite near universal acclaim because, frankly, I don’t do “corset movies” but this was promising to be a bitter little pill of a film not at all like prestige Oscar-bait such as The English Patient. Turns it it’s something far worse: it’s Wright’s attempt to remake Cold Mountain only without the colorful supporting characters or even a loosely defined narrative to hang itself off of. First half of the film (ie: the half everyone seems to love) is laughably over-plotted, relying on the same risible contrivances that sunk the long forgotten Reservation Road earlier in the fall. Allegedly the film is sexually charged but I couldn’t get over the fact that costumes not withstanding McAvoy and Knightly look like the same person. But the film doesn’t become truly insufferable until it enters the last Great War which consists of nary a single scene but rather an hour plus of elliptical moments in time which are comprised mostly of McAvoy walking through fields and leafing through postcards. Gotcha ending is neither cathartic nor subversive; simply one of a hundred literary conceits found within the film that just plain don’t translate to the screen.

**

One upside of awards season? The now standard practice of making the screenplays of awards contenders free and available for download. Paramount Vantage, Focus Features and Fox Searchlight have all taken this approach which is what allowed me to read the script to Juno this afternoon while at work. All I can say is fuck the haters; this thing is too charming for words. Found myself both laughing aloud and tearing up. After today I’m convinced that anyone clinging to the “all the characters in the film speak the same way” modus of criticism are either tone deaf or just lazy and using a convenient party line to explain their inabilities to warm up to the film.

**

Speaking of scripts, I am Legend was a bit of a full circle experience for me this weekend as it was the first screenplay I ever read back in the mid 90’s. This was when the film was supposed to be a vehicle for Ahhhhnuld and hued a lot more closely to Matheson’s original story. Over the years, I’d built the script up in my head as one of the great unproduced projects of the modern blockbuster era but going into the film I knew it’d been given the entire Akiva Goldsman treatment. The final result is a film that’s as devoid of humanity as the streets of New York City portend to be. Most of the original story’s more wicked ideas have been tossed aside (although it’s only recently dawned on me that they made their way into the first two Blade films) in favor of a big budget 28 Days Later knock-off only without the ingenuity, terror or (most importantly) the waking sadness of a world once familiar reduced to a monument to its former vitality. Smith’s widely hailed performance (which has earned comparisons to Hanks in Castaway? Really?) is, to be polite, uneven. Sufficiently screwy and vulnerable in places, far to often the actor falls into “Big Willy Style” mode, riffing as though he were auditioning for the last sitcom on earth. Lawrence has a knack for small-scale action but the big FX sequences feel like outtakes from The Mummy films.

**

On a final note, I just received the new, uber-dorky Blade Runner 5-disk box set complete with origami unicorn and matchbox car in the shape of a spinner. If I were to point to something I own that could personify why I haven’t been laid in ages, I think this thing would have to be it. I doubt I’ll ever get through half of it, but the sheer volume of geektastic stuff thrown into this package zeroes right in on my completist tendencies. I love this thing so much I want to take it behind a middle school and get it pregnant.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Fun with Steroids

Breathing a sigh of relief over the recently unveiled Mitchell report. It was ultimately less of a stunner than first expected; almost every name on there is someone whose name had been whispered about in the past ten years. Prior to the official announcement a friend of mine leaked me a list of names he said he’d received from an inside source at a news affiliate that turned out to be about 75% bunk. Needless to say, that got my heart racing. Sorry I ever doubted you Captain.

Of course the big “revelation” which should have surprised no one who’s been paying attention, is that Roger Clemens was a focal point (9 pages worth) of the investigation particularly during his years in Toronto and New York. The man who has to be smiling the widest this morning is former Red Sox G.M. Dan Duquette who famously said Clemens was in the “twilight of his career” when the team parted ways with the pitcher in 1996. Duquette had a valid point: Clemens’ last season of the team he went 10-13 with an E.R.A. of 3.63. He was getting injured with greater frequency, averaging about 25 starts a season. Those Sox teams of the mid 90’s were pretty lousy (the team didn’t begin to turn things around till the Pedro/Nomar years) but Clemens had become a consistent disappointment, unable to win more than 11 games a year from 1993 through 1996.

So imagine the surprise in Boston when Clemens went to Toronto and proceeded to rack up back to back 20-win/Cy Young seasons. Duquette, an already unpopular GM, was vilified and the city watched in horror as Clemens eventually made his way to the hated Yankees where he won another Cy Young, an average of 15 wins a year and two World Series titles (a distinction which obviously alluded him in Boston). For years this improbable turn-around had been rolled into the curse that hung over Boston for 86 years.

But here we are in 2007. The Sox, still basking in the afterglow of their second title in three years. The Yankees, despite spending the GNP of Guam on over-priced, past their prime arms (including, tee hee, Clemens) are the ones chasing the Sox. And this morning the final piece of validation. The last puzzle piece is in clear sight as Red Sox Nation is purged of one of its last demons.

Clemens was past his prime. The Sox were working off the best information they had available to them. They just didn’t anticipate one little thing:

Clemens if a fucking cheater!

Oh the joy, the joy. For years Sox fans joked that Clemens’ bust in the Hall of Fame should be adorned with a ball cap with a dollar sign on it. Now, we can begin the jokes about asterisks and hypodermic needles instead. There had been a softening towards Clemens in recent years; a willingness to let bygones be bygones. When it was rumored that the pitcher might come back to Boston this past spring it was met with almost a uniformly favorable response. There was something poetic and apt about Clemens finishing his career in the same city he started it in. But Clemens went with the Yanks, made an embarrassment of himself, limping off the mound during the playoffs in (presumably) his final game of his storied career, only to watch his one-time team celebrate again without him. Now on top of that, every single accomplishment Clemens had between his time with the Sox in 96 and the Astros in 2004 (when, it’s worth noting he won his record 7th Cy Young) has been tainted.

Oh but wait, it gets better. Clemens wasn’t the only one taking shots in the ass on those Series winning Yankees teams.

Andy Pettite: cheater

David Justice: cheater

Chuck Knoblauch: cheater

Jason Grimsley: cheater

Glenallen Hill: cheater

Denny Neagle: cheater

Mike Stanton: cheater

Dan Naulty: cheater

*

As if there weren’t enough shame in being a Yankees fan, we now have proof that half the team’s bullpen was juicing. If they’re going to attach an asterisk to Barry Bonds’ home run record, then by all means let’s put one on the Yankees’ World Series wins in 1996, 1998, 1999 and 2000.

A sad day for baseball, a lousy one in the Bronx, but once again Boston has reason to celebrate.

Now if only we can change the “Year 2000” chants to “nine-teen seventy-eight!”

* Whoops: forgot Jose Canseco won a ring with the Yanks in 2000 as well. How appropriate an omission is that?