Tonight’s director is Jason Reitman, joined by cinematographer Eric Steelberg, editor Dana E. Glauberman and composer Rolfe Kent. We’ll be talking about Up In The Air, Juno and Thank You For Smoking.

Next Wednesday’s director guest will be announced tonight. We’ll be talking about casting and working with actors.

Word from the organizers is that it’s almost sold out, but “a limited number of passes” will still be available at the door if you want to try. It’s at the Landmark Theaters in West LA, beginning at 7:30pm.

Film Independent is recording these panels, so if you’re living outside Los Angeles, don’t despair: I’ll pass along the info when I have it. In preparation for the series, they shot a bunch of short interview pieces with me, which you can see up on YouTube.

The Twitter hashtag for the series is #DCU2010. If you have questions for anyone on the panel tonight, tweet it (@johnaugust) and I’ll try to ask.

February 3rd
The Creative Collaboration – Moderator John August and panelists Jason Reitman (Up in the Air), editor Dana Glauberman, cinematographer Eric Steelberg and other members of the creative team will spend an evening exploring the collaborative process that takes a film from script to screen, including: research, production design, lighting, camera placement, and more.

February 10th
Sound Design – Moderator John August will converse with directors and sound designers about creating a powerful film soundtrack, from sound effects and location sound to the final mix. Panelists to be announced.¹

The panels are part of a month-long series that include discussions about acting, casting and comedy. Passes for the whole thing are available online.

1. I know who they’re trying to get, and if happens, I will do a Snoopy dance.

In a rough economy, it’s no surprise to find workers in all industries making less, but in the case of the writers, it feels a lot different on the ground. It’s not simply the economy.

Fundamental relationships and business practices are changing. More writers are competing for fewer jobs. Established quotes are being ignored. Mid-tier writers are passed over in favor of the very cheap or very expensive, and even they have a hard time actually getting paid.

Get a group of working — or should be working — screenwriters together for more than ten minutes, and you’re likely to discuss all these issues.

Last week, David A. Goodman (Family Guy), Kayla Alpert (Confessions of a Shopaholic) and I did a panel on KCRW’s The Business, discussing these topics. The show is now online, and worth a listen.

Some important points to emphasize:

• All writers in the industry are essentially freelance. Even being staffed on a TV show is seasonal. Writers aren’t “laid off;” they’re simply unhired. That’s true for many jobs in film and TV, from actors to gaffers to costume designers. Writers are pretty much the only craft that can generate their own work, however.

• Writing is the R&D of the entertainment industry. Try as they might, studios don’t know which projects — or even which genres — are going to be hits. That’s why they develop a range of properties, knowing that only a few of them will go into production. A studio that doesn’t develop material won’t have movies or shows for upcoming seasons.

• Studios are small parts of big corporations. While studios have often been owned by larger corporations, from Gulf+Western to Coca-Cola, the current consolidation and integration of the major studios is unprecedented. Film and TV used to be largely insulated for a downturn in the economy — people still wanted their movies and shows. But now that studios are so tightly entwined with their parent companies, corporate cutbacks hit Hollywood much more directly.

• Quotes are both real and imaginary. A writer’s quote is generally whatever she has recently been paid for a roughly equivalent job. ¹ If Sasha Dramaturg received $200K for a draft, set and polish² on a movie at Fox, her quote would be $200K. If Fox wanted to hire her to write a movie, her agents would be looking for at least that much money. Recently, however, quotes are sometimes being ignored. Fox might tell her agents that they’re paying $100K, take it or leave it. If Sasha takes it, her quote is now $100K.³

• Writers aren’t unique. While this panel was about writers, every facet of film and television is in upheaval. You can take any profession or craft, from development executive to stunt coordinator, and find uncertainty and anxiety about where this is all headed.

Host Kim Masters did a smart job stoking the conversation, and producer Darby Maloney cut an hour’s worth of material down with remarkable finesse.

One thing that didn’t make the cut was a list that a friend had sent me in anticipation of the panel. It’s more bloggy than radio anyway:

What’s Wrong With The Film Business

1. The conflict and turnover caused by the buying and selling of companies causes confusion, uncertainty, and weakens morale in the production area.

2. The “suits” who control the studios interfere too much with creative decisions; the studios should be run by creative people rather than businessmen, lawyers, etc.

3. The constant turnover of the production head of the studio is disastrous.

4. Overhead is indefensibly high.

5. Authority is not clearly defined.

6. Producers are given exorbitant contracts, and there is no relationship between what a producer receives and the box-office success of his or her films.

7. Screenplay costs are excessive and and the write-off on stories and contracts is enormous.

While this seems like a very current assessment, the list actually comes from a 1936 report by Joseph P. Kennedy, who was hired by Paramount’s board of directors to determine what was ailing the studio. ⁴

I find it strangely comforting to realize that the industry was just as broken 70 years ago.

To me, it suggests there’s a cycle to the industry. While we’re in a painful contraction phase now, there is still reason for optimism. Hollywood loves money, and money loves Hollywood. As the economy improves, I suspect we’ll see increased investment in the industry, either through new technology (as happened with home video) or new piles of money (such as foreign investment funds).

It’s a strange time for a writer to be starting in the industry. Not only will you be competing with every other aspiring writer, you’ll also find yourself up against established writers who’ve been forced to cut their quotes. With uncertainty comes caution, and studios will be less likely to take a chance on an unknown writer.

But crisis is also an opportunity. When I meet with recent film school graduates, I remind them that whatever happens next in the industry won’t be something my generation does. It will happen among the 20-somethings, the narrative entrepreneurs who figure out how to make the next great thing. Rather than seeking permission to work in the existing industry, they’ll make their own.

To become one of those inventors of industry, you need to surround yourself with similarly ambitious people. Film school is a good choice, but so is living and working in the right neighborhood in Silverlake or Brooklyn or Austin — or more likely, a place I wouldn’t even realize is a hotbed.

In the KCRW panel, Kayla Alpert made a final point worth repeating: writers can write. As frustrating a time as this is, screenwriters at every level have the unique opportunity to make something new by themselves. That’s a luxury worth more than dollars.

1. Quotes work the same for actors and directors.
2. “Draft, set and polish” is common shorthand for a writer’s first draft, a rewrite of that draft, and smaller polish on that draft.
3. Deals can also be “no-quote,” meaning they’re not supposed to be disclosed. For the animated movies I’ve written, I’ve made significantly less than my quote.
4. This list comes courtesy Howard Suber, who makes reference of it in his book The Power of Film. It originally appeared in Leo Rosten’s 1941 book Hollywood: The Movie Colony/The Movie Makers (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc., 1941), Pp. 253-254. Rosten’s book is out of print, but available as a .pdf.

They’re called jacarandas, and it’s okay to pronounce the j. You can also find them in places with similar climates, including Australia and South Africa.

(Photo by autumn leaf)

I know some people in the industry… and the lifelong question of when to ask someone to read your work, or help you out comes to mind. I am very shy about when to ask, and never want them to think I am “using them.” But, it seems like if you don’t go out every night, and drink and party with them, they lose sight of who you are. Some pull the Kevin Williamson, and you will be introduced to them 100 times, and they still cannot remember your name…

How do you know when to ask for help, or a reference, or both, or even a foot in the door? If you don’t party with them every night is that going to hurt my chances in the long run? And when should you ask?

I don’t want to come off as a user, but it seems like everyone else is. Do I need to sink down to that level to succeed?

I know there is such thing as a missed opportunity….but..?

Thanks in advance,

– “Anonymous.”

What’s not clear from your question — if it really is a question, rather than an extended harrumph — is exactly how people are using you and/or stabbing you in the back. Let’s look at some scenarios.

• Are you reading their scripts, offering helpful notes, while they can’t be bothered to do the same for you?

• Are they repeating your ideas as their own?

• Are they talking behind your back? Stealing your beer? Making love to your girlfriend?

• Are you helping them move, without receiving reciprocal futon-hauling?

All of these are clear offenses. But my hunch is that nothing so egregious is actually occurring. You’re just finding it difficult to make headway personally or professionally. So you wonder: Is this indicative of the Hollywood culture, or specific to you?

It’s both.

Let’s divide it into more distinct questions.

Does the entertainment industry, and Los Angeles in general, tend to generate a lot of shallow friendships?

In my experience, yes. You end up knowing a lot of people, but not knowing them very well. The boundaries between “someone you know” and “friend” are indistinct. People flake out on you more, offering only half-hearted rsvps (“I’ll try to make it.”) or after-the-fact explanations-cum-apologies (“Traffic was insane.”) Keep in mind that you work in an industry in which people genuinely don’t know when they’ll be permitted to go home. An assistant working at a busy agent’s desk might be there until midnight.

Can you form real friendships in the industry? Absolutely. One of my best friends is the woman who was hired to replace me when I left my last assistant job. I got to know her through the hundred follow-up phone calls asking where a certain file was, or how to handle Crazy Person #32. But you don’t form real friendships when you approach people with the worry that they may stab you in the back.

Here’s the thing to remember: Friends are for your personal happiness. Colleagues are part of your career. You may go to drinks with both, but don’t confuse them.

When do you ask a colleague for help, or a reference, or both, or even a foot in the door?

At whatever moment you think there’s a pretty good chance they would help you. And a lot of that depends on your level of chutzpah. Some of the most successful people in the industry are the most shameless about asking people for things. Brett Ratner wrote to Spielberg, who sent him a check. Does Spielberg feel “used?” Pretty unlikely.

I was never that ballsy, but I did a good job keeping up with my peers, helping them whenever I could. When it came time to move to a larger agency, I asked their opinions and got them to call on my behalf. I’ll call a writer I’ve met once to ask about a project, or an executive, or director with a questionable reputation. That’s how it works.

And don’t assume you have nothing to offer someone who has more experience in the industry. When I have coffee with younger writers, I’m asking them as many questions as they ask me.

How do you ask for help?

By doing so directly, while giving the person an out.

• “I’m applying for a reader job at New Regency. You said you know Ethan Someguy. Would you feel comfortable calling him on my behalf?”

• “I wrote a short that I want to shoot next month, and I’d really like your feedback if you’d be willing to look at it.”

You then follow up nicely.

• “Just wanted to check whether you were able to connect with Ethan Someguy.”

• “I wanted to see if you’d had a chance to read my short.”

Is it just me?

No, Anon, it’s not. At many points in my career I’ve wanted to throw someone through a wall. But the situation you’re describing seems at least partly attributable to your attitude.

You’re not in the happiest place right now, which could be situational or could be a bigger deal. Disappointment is not depression. But if your overall mood is consistently needling downward, getting the advice of an actual psychology professional would seem to be in order. All the career advice in the world isn’t going to make you happy if larger obstacles stand in the way.

I made my guesses, as did many readers. Over the past few weeks, he’s addressed the myths in follow-up articles, so I thought I’d provide some closure as well.

Here are the myths:

Los Angeles’s air is choked with smog.

I said false. He said half-true.

According to the American Lung Association, Los Angeles has the second-worst air quality in the nation, after Pittsburgh. But “choked with smog” is an exaggeration. It’s vastly better than it used to be — and much better than its reputation:

In 1979, the South Coast Air Basin (of which Los Angeles is a part) experienced 228 days above the state one-hour ozone standard; in 2007, the number of days in violation was down to 96. The change is even more dramatic when looking at individual communities. From 1979 to 2007, Pasadena dropped from 191 days over the limit to 13, Reseda from 138 to 22, Anaheim from 61 to 2, Pomona from 167 to 19, and West Los Angeles from 76 to 2. This story is replicated across the region. It is also broadly true for the other pollutants that comprise smog.

Los Angeles has developed in a low-density, sprawling pattern.

I said half-true. He said false.

As of the 2000 census, the Los Angeles region’s urbanized area had the highest population density in the nation. Yes, that was the word “highest,” not a smudge on your monitor. At 7,068 people per square mile, Los Angeles is considerably denser than New York-Newark, which ranks fourth at 5,309 people per square mile (behind San Francisco-Oakland and San Jose as well as Los Angeles).

I was fooled by the comparatively large percentage of single-family homes. But there’s an important distinction I overlooked:

Los Angeles’s homes sit on very small lots, in part due to the difficulty of providing water infrastructure to new developments. (Other southwestern cities share this trait.)

Angelenos spend more time stuck in traffic than any other drivers in the nation.

I said true. He said true.

According to the Texas Transportation Institute’s 2005 Mobility Report, Angelenos who traveled in the peak periods suffered 72 annual hours of delay. This was number one in the nation, by a large margin.

Traffic really does suck in Los Angeles, which is why you spend a lot of mental energy figuring out how to avoid it. Live near work. Or work at home.

Thanks to the great distances between far-flung destinations, and perhaps to Angelenos’ famed “love affair” with the car, Angelenos drive considerably more miles than most Americans.

I said false. He said false.

According to the Federal Highway Administration, Angelenos drive 23 miles per resident per day. This ranks the Los Angeles metro area 21st highest among the largest 37 cities. The champions (or losers) are probably Houston, followed by Jacksonville and Orlando, all of which are over 30 miles per day.

That doesn’t mean you’re not potentially spending a lot of time in your car, though. You just might not be traveling many miles.

Los Angeles is dominated by an overbuilt freeway system that promotes auto dependence.

I said false. He said half-true.

Los Angeles boasts an extensive freeway system. Counting Interstates and other expressways, the area ranks second in the nation in lane mileage, after New York.

But taking into account the area’s vast size, the network is one of the most underdeveloped in the U.S. According to the Federal Highway Administration, of the 36 largest metro areas, Los Angeles ranks dead last in terms of freeway lane miles per resident. (Chicago is second to last, and New York is near the bottom as well. The most freeway-heavy big city by this measure is Kansas City.)

The general solution to LA’s traffic woes isn’t going to be more freeways — although in places, more capacity would make sense. Reducing demand is crucial, and increasing density is, almost paradoxically, a good way to do that.

Los Angeles’s mass transit system is underdeveloped and inadequate.

I said half-true. He said false.

But compared with the majority of U.S. cities, Los Angeles is not a transit wasteland. The region is second in the nation in transit patronage, behind only New York. Even on a market share basis (passenger transit miles traveled as a share of all miles traveled), Los Angeles’s ridership rate is relatively high: 11th among the 50 largest urban areas.

Here’s where I think he’s really stretching. Sure, Los Angeles may have a lot more public transit than other big cities, but that isn’t evidence of adequacy. By the standards he’s held himself on the other questions, I think this should be half-true. And he seems to sense this:

Despite all of this, I can’t look you in the eye and tell you the car is not king in Los Angeles. It is. Our transit share is quite small: a bit under 2 percent.

Yes, two percent of 13 million is a lot of people. But when 98% of your population isn’t using your mass transit system, there’s a lot of opportunity.

It’s not just a mom thing here. Most of the screenwriters I know, I know because they have young kids in preschool. The fathers of my daughter’s classmates wrote most of last summer’s blockbusters.

And it’s not just an age thing: I have lunch every month with Dick Zanuck, 74, who has produced 40+ movies and run a studio. What do we talk about? Getting his grandkids into preschool.

At least for LA, preschool is the new college.

Yes, it’s absurd. I poked fun at it in a deleted scene from The Nines (which you can find on the DVD). But it’s the reality. Even if your kids are going to go to public elementary school, you still need to find a private preschool. So here’s my advice.

1. Buy The Whitney Guide. It’s a listing of most or all of the preschools in Los Angeles, with standardized criteria and philosophy statements. You won’t pick a school because of this book, but you’ll be able to narrow your choices and decide which criteria are important. And you’ll have a clear idea about the costs, so you can tailor your list appropriately.

2. Talk to a lot of parents. Strike up conversations at the playground, the car wash, or any place you find parents with kids. Ask all your neighbors. You want recommendations about good schools, but more importantly, you want parents who can recommend you to a school. Kids don’t have SATs. A preschool is really admitting the parents, not the kid. Most preschools have an interview, but recommendations from current parents help a lot.

3. Talk to people who talk to parents. Some of our most helpful advice came from the woman who ran the weekly kids’ gym. Pre-preschool classes like gym, music and swimming are run by people who interface with thousands of kids and parents over the years. They know the scoop.

4. Visit preschools while they’re running. If you have a two-year old, you’ll be overwhelmed to see how swarming a bunch of three- and four-year olds can be. But what you’re looking for is some order in this chaos. For each class, the teacher and teacher’s assistant should feel like they’re on top of it. The kids should be having fun.

5. Different is good. We’re the only two-dad family at our school. That’s not why we got in, but it didn’t hurt. If there’s something unique about your situation — your wife is an astronaut, your husband is blind — don’t minimize it. Most schools are looking to become less homogenous, and something distinctive will help them remember you.

6. Have a safety school. Like college, there’s a chance you may not get into the preschool you want. In many cases, siblings of current students have first priority, so there may not be room for new families. That’s why it’s important to apply to at least one school you feel pretty certain you can get into.

Aren’t all preschools basically the same? I mean, they’re mostly just singing songs about sharing and gluing things to paper. The reason to pick one school versus another is how comfortable you feel letting these people take daily custody of your kid. You want a place that shares your basic values and priorities — and will pick other parents you can stand to be around.

That’s one part of the puzzle I didn’t anticipate when we were first looking at schools. When your kid is in preschool, you see these parents constantly: at birthday parties, at fundraisers, at playdates and parking lots. So you really hope they’re not annoying. It’s another reason you want to spend a lot of time talking to parents when picking a school — to get a sense what kinds of families go there.

And finally, despite everything I’ve said above, you need to remember that where your kid goes to preschool will not make or break her life. In fact, it’s possible to change schools if the first one doesn’t work out.

Exactly one of the following statements about transportation in Los Angeles is indisputably true. Two are (at best) half-truths, and the rest are flat-out myths. Can you figure out which of the following is accurate?

1. Los Angeles’s air is choked with smog.

2. Los Angeles has developed in a low-density, sprawling pattern.

3. Angelenos spend more time stuck in traffic than any other drivers in the nation.

4. Thanks to the great distances between far-flung destinations, and perhaps to Angelenos’ famed “love affair” with the car, Angelenos drive considerably more miles than most Americans.

5. Los Angeles is dominated by an overbuilt freeway system that promotes autodependence.

6. Los Angeles’s mass transit system is underdeveloped and inadequate.

He hasn’t provided the answers (yet), but here are my opinions and guesses, without any Googling or other fact-finding missions:

1. False. Talking with friends who grew up here, the air quality was apparently horrible up through the mid-1980s, with “smog alert” days common. But thanks to nation-leading emissions standards, it’s improved dramatically. The air is cleaner than what I grew up with in Boulder, Colorado.

2. Half-true. Los Angeles is huge — and that’s not counting all the smaller cities that cling to it. But you’re not required to go everywhere — most of what you want is quite close. I drive less than 5000 miles per year. And while the city is not as high-density as New York City, it’s a lot denser than most people realize. Most of the new construction you see in the city is now “urban in-fill,” which increases the density.

3. Likely true, because it’s the only claim that could be “indisputable.”

4. False. Commutes in Los Angeles aren’t particularly long; they can just take a long time. I predict Los Angelenos drive significantly less than motorists in, say, Denver.

5. False. A lot of loaded words here — “dominated,” “overbuilt,” “autodependence” — none of which are defined.¹ Los Angeles has a lot of freeways. At two in the morning, it’s amazing how quickly you can get from point A to point B. Most other times, I avoid them.

6. Half-true. “Underdeveloped” and “inadequate” feel like subjective measurements, so you need something to compare them against. In my experience, New York, Washington D.C., London and Tokyo have better mass transit systems, making it much easier to get where you need to go. But compared to most U.S. cities, I suspect Los Angeles has significantly higher usage of public transportation.

1. Though I like the term “autodependence,” which sounds like a reflexive psychological condition.

My initial thought was that one of us had sleepwalked, and acted out some rage issue against fruit. I realize this is a strange explanation to reach for first — maybe I’m the culprit! — but it may explain why I’m a screenwriter.

The much more reasonable instinct would be to assume we had some sort of visitor. A mouse, a rat, a squirrel. Or possibly a raccoon — our housesitter had mentioned seeing one over the holiday. We set a peanut butter-baited mousetrap on the counter, and sure enough, at 4:50 a.m. Thursday I heard it snap. There was no critter under the bar, however.

I know through friends that a raccoon has to be handled differently than a mere mouse or rat, so I was determined to figure out which kind of varmint we had. I set my MacBook’s built-in camera to shoot one frame of video per second, and left the lights dimmed in the kitchen. I also re-baited the trap, this time with hummus.

This morning, I came downstairs and saw with disappointment that the trap hadn’t popped. But scrubbing through the video, I got my answer.

Fans of The Nines may recognize the kitchen, and the accuracy of Margaret’s “they live in the palm trees” line.

UPDATE: Conventional rat trap worked. It snapped four minutes after leaving the room. Cleanup was bloodless, but still more unsettling than I anticipated. Rat Guy comes Monday to figure out how it got in.

FURTHER UPDATE: Here.

In California, my obvious interest is seeing Proposition 8 defeated. It’s an attack on fundamental rights and my family’s future. But there are several other issues — transportation, taxes and privacy — that are worth every California voter’s time.

I’m headed to Paris first thing on Wednesday, so there’s every likelihood I won’t know the outcome of some measures when I get on the flight. But here’s hoping for good news when I land.