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Film Industry

Hollywood interns aren’t essential

July 14, 2011 Film Industry, Follow Up

Nicole Iizuka ([@nicolemiizuka](https://twitter.com/#!/nicolemiizuka)) took issue with [my remark](http://johnaugust.com/2011/suing-to-get-an-agent-contd) that “All the interns in Los Angeles could get Raptured tomorrow and the town would function just fine.”

I asked her to prove me wrong, and she answered the challenge [on her blog](http://www.cakeandheels.com/2011/07/why-hollywood-interns-are-indispensable.html).

It’s a nicely put-together post. You might want to open it in another tab and read it. Go ahead. I’ll be here.

Are you back? Great. Here’s where I think she’s right.

**1) Internship is a useful filtering mechanism.**

When hiring assistants, Hollywood looks for internship experience. It’s not as much about what the applicant has learned on those internships, but the fact that she worked someplace without burning the building down.

An internship means a reference. A name. A phone number. Prospective employers want someone they can call to answer the most important question: “Would I regret hiring this person?”

**2) Assistants like having interns working for them.**

In my last assistant job, I supervised three interns. And yes, when you’re at the bottom of the totem pole, it’s nice to bring in someone below you.

But did I *need* interns? No.

Because I couldn’t be certain they’d actually show up, all the work I assigned them was, by definition, inessential: reading scripts we didn’t particularly care about, compiling file boxes that would be shipped off to storage forever. And yes, interns answer phones when assistants run to the restroom. But so does voicemail.

These two points conceded, I don’t think Nicole has made a convincing case that Hollywood would fall apart upon Intern Rapture.

> First off, there have been numerous cases and articles stating the obvious, that businesses heavily rely on a young and eager staff of free labor to keep their bottom lines at bay. While there is a general sense of deep coffers when it comes to the industry, excess spending by studio executives, actors, directors and producers living luxurious lives, in reality most companies barely budget a meager salary for their underpaid and overworked assistants. Add to that a seemingly insurmountable list of daily tasks, and companies’ unwillingness to hire more employees; we are left in a place where interns are an absolute necessity.

Without links to these cases and articles, she appears to be begging the question; interns are indispensable because they’re indispensable.

> If they disappeared tomorrow, riots would break out, people would quit their jobs or suffer mental breakdowns and the generally smooth operation of the daily grind of Hollywood would go into chaos.

And after everyone’s done rending their clothes, all the things that interns do right now would be divided into three categories:

1. Stuff assistants will now do
2. Stuff we’ll hire freelancers to do (e.g. writing coverage)
3. Stuff that just won’t get done

Of these, I think #3 would be the biggest category.

Revisting my first conceded point: Without interns, where would Hollywood find qualified assistants?

Answer: At top-tier schools, same as always.

The problem isn’t a dearth of qualified candidates. The filtering aspect of internship is simply a way of separating the awesome wheat from the only-okay wheat. College already got rid of the chaff.

While it’s true that ultimately no one in Hollywood really cares where you went to school or what grades you got, an Ivy League education is always going to be a helpful pre-filter. Right now, young Brown grads land internships with alums. If there were no interns, those same Brown grads would land interviews for assistant jobs.

When you take out the bottom rung of the ladder, there’s still a ladder.

Without internship experience, these newly hired assistants would have a rougher first couple of weeks. But they’d survive. And so would Hollywood.

The Intern Rapture is a thought experiment. None of this should be read as an attack on interns or the idea of internship. Interns work hard, and often benefit from exposure and experience.

There are fair criticisms to be leveled at the current system, which benefits young people who can afford to work for free. But at the same time, Hollywood internships help level the playing field; nepotism and a brand-name degree don’t count for much when you’re making copies and coffee-runs. Either you can write good coverage or you can’t. Internships are an opportunity to prove yourself.

I was an intern from a Midwestern university. I parlayed my first internship into a paid reading gig because I worked harder. I made myself useful.

But there’s a wide gap between “useful” and “essential.” I don’t think Nicole has demonstrated that interns — either individually or collectively — are actually vital to the workings of Hollywood.

Suing to get an agent, cont’d

July 9, 2011 Film Industry, Follow Up

Justin Samuels, the guy who [filed a lawsuit](http://johnaugust.com/2011/suing-to-get-an-agent) against CAA and WME for not representing him, just [wrote in](http://johnaugust.com/2011/suing-to-get-an-agent#comment-190743):

> Mr. August, you’ve no idea what other things I have or haven’t done to break into the industry. You’ve no proof that I haven’t previously lived in Los Angeles. You don’t know if I’ve had internships or not, or if I’ve done other industry jobs or not. You’re making assumptions without having evidence to back them up.

That’s not an excerpt. That’s the whole thing.

True: I have no proof that he hasn’t done those things. I also can’t prove Amelia Earhart never French-kissed a squirrel. But I trust my hunches.

If Justin is writing in to set the record straight, couldn’t he, you know, *set the record straight?* For instance, he could say when he lived in Los Angeles. Or had an industry job. Or won screenwriting competitions. Or applied for studio-backed diversity programs.

He’s given me no reason to assume he’s done anything other than write scripts, query letters and lawsuits. Maybe he’ll read this and fill in the details.

Justin followed up his first comment with another one specifically about internships:

> I should say something about internships. Internships are often unpaid, meaning the intern is working for free. Exploitation at its finest. Its okay if the intern has parents who are willing to subsidize or is on a government program, otherwise the intern may end up sleeping in a cardboard box (the intern maybe unpaid, but rent, food, gas, and other necessities are never free).

> So basically, one need not apply for an internship if one doesn’t have either parents or the government to cover one’s expenses.

Here Samuels has a point. Unpaid internships favor those with enough money that they don’t need to get paid. It’s a concern I’ve seen raised in many industries, particularly ones like art and publishing that are centered in high-cost cities like New York.

But I’d argue that unpaid internships are actually a very small part of the Hollywood ecosystem. All the interns in Los Angeles could get Raptured tomorrow and the town would function just fine. A much more fundamental part of the film and television workplace is the front line of PAs and assistants who toil long hours for a wage that, while meager, is livable.

Justin, if you’re sticking around, the 80+ commenters on the original thread probably have questions for you.

Harry Potter and the Well of Red Ink

June 28, 2011 Film Industry

Cory Doctorow revisits a 2009 Harry Potter participation statement, marveling at how the hugely successful fifth installment manages to [lose $167 million on paper](http://www.boingboing.net/2011/06/27/hollywoodonomics-how.html):

> I think this is also a great example of why all financial numbers released by the entertainment industry should be treated as fiction until proven otherwise.

I get balance sheets like this every quarter on the movies I’ve written. I think it’s naive to call them fiction. Every industry — from oil to tech to toys — has ways of obfuscating exactly how much money it’s making.

The difference with movies is that the average filmgoer has a pretty good idea which movies are hits and which are bombs, so when a movie like HP5 shows a deficit, our bullshit detectors start beeping.

Some important things to keep in mind:

* The studio charges each movie a distribution fee. For HP5, that totaled 34.7% of the gross — a $211 million cut of $609 million. Warner Bros. is keeping that money. So the studio has made a profit, even if the movie itself hasn’t.
* Prints — the film running through the projector — are still a huge cost. For HP5, they spent $29 million. Digital projectors can bring that number down.
* Residuals matter. Even though the movie isn’t profitable on paper, the film has paid out $10 million in residuals (almost entirely to the actors, writers and director) in the two years between when the film was released and this statement.
* They claim the movie cost $315 million. In the case of Harry Potter, I suspect JK Rowling is getting paid here, since no gross participants are listed.

Very, very few movies will ever show a profit on a participation statement like this.

When you read stories about writers or producers auditing a feature, it’s not because they disagree with the math on the page. Rather, they think the numbers themselves are wrong. Ten million here, ten million there, and suddenly you’re talking real money.

And it’s not always clear-cut how the money should be tallied.

An example: Sony sold broadcast rights to the first Charlie’s Angels to ABC as part of a bundle of films. I forget the exact figure — maybe $40 million? The studio accountants wanted to divide the money among the films in the package. So if there were 10 films in the package, each would get $4 million.

One of the producers balked, arguing that Charlie’s Angels was by far the biggest movie in the package and deserved the lion’s share of the ABC money. I don’t know that disagreement got settled, but the same kind of haggling happens every day.

Get a manager

May 31, 2011 Film Industry, First Person

[Justin Marks](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1098479/) is a screenwriter who has worked on feature films ranging from the geek-driven to the way-too-serious. I first met him on the Film France [trip to Paris](http://johnaugust.com/2008/paris-days-1-and-2) in 2008, when his career was in its early stages.

Last week, Justin [tweeted](https://twitter.com/#!/Justin_Marks_/status/73791695103332352):

> Protip: Get a manager. A great manager. The best manager. It’s the difference between having a career and having no career.

> On that last note: there are pros who disagree with me. But they came up in a different generation. So be mindful of that.

I mildly disagree, but: I came up in a different generation. I may be wrong. It’s entirely possible that the experience I had coming of age as a screenwriter in the late 90s is enough different that some of my reflex opinions (e.g. managers are useless) should be questioned. I asked Justin to write up his experiences and opinions. He has has graciously agreed.

You can follow Justin on Twitter [@justin_marks_](https://twitter.com/#!/Justin_Marks_).

——-

first personjustin marksHello, my name is Justin Marks, and I’m a working screenwriter.

Feels great to say, doesn’t it? It’s not the kind of job description that happens overnight. It was born of more than a decade of frustration and hard work. Good scripts and bad scripts. Good advice and bad advice. Good days and bad days. Easily the most satisfying and unnerving years of my life.

But when exactly did I become a screenwriter? Was it the first time I wrote a screenplay? The first time I got paid to do it?

No.

For me, the moment I became a screenwriter was when I met my manager. He taught me the fundamentals -– how to build a career in a competitive and at times impossibly frustrating business.

Which is why, with John’s permission, I’d like to speak about this thorny issue of literary managers.

So let me come out and say it: if you want to make it in today’s business, I believe you need a manager. It’s as simple as that.

Strangely, among the community of established writers, you’re not likely to find a strong consensus on this topic. Opinions range everywhere from “they’re awesome” to “what kind of moron are you for giving up ten percent to someone who does nothing?” And while I won’t pretend to be some kind of ultimate authority on the issue, I think my insight can be particularly helpful to other young writers looking for a way to get their start.

Here’s the thing about the writers who say you don’t need a manager: chances are they “broke in” during a very different era. As early as five years ago, there were better DVD sales, a writers’ strike that hadn’t yet happened, and far more studios willing to spend far more money on the development of scripts.

Today, not so much. There are fewer screenwriters being paid to do what they do. Even if you’re an established writer, it means doing a lot more work for free, competing with a lot more writers for assignments, and accepting significantly less than your quote for the assignments you get.

And if you’re not yet an established writer…oh boy. The window of entry has narrowed to a pinhole, and your margin for error is nearly non-existent. Write a bad script, slip it to the studios, and your name will be in that computer system for years to come. Every time someone looks you up, you’ll have the stink of negative coverage tied to your name. It puts ever-more precedence on starting with your best foot forward.

Not to mention the agent issue. Say you’re lucky enough to score one. Congrats! They’ll look out for your best interests, right? Sure. There are great agents out there. But they’re also looking out for the best interests of a thousand other clients their agency now represents –- the result of mergers necessitated by the shrinking job market.

How do you get the attention you need when your agent has to handle hundreds of phone calls from dozens of clients, many of whom are competing with you for the same job?

Enter the manager.
—–

A lot of people wonder what a manager does. After all, an agent gets you jobs. A lawyer negotiates them. So who is this other strange person collecting ten percent in the middle of all that?

Let me answer your question by telling you what my manager does. Or rather, what he did to get me where I am.
[Read more…] about Get a manager

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