When Below-The-Line Goes Over The Cliff: Class Warfare In Hollywood

If you have a friend or family member who works in the entertainment industry, then you've probably seen them change their Facebook profile picture or other social media avatar to this:

This image represents a green screen, a necessary tool for digital visual effects designers, the latest Hollywood sub-industry that's about to fall off its own fiscal cliff.  Most people don't know that Sunday's Oscar ceremony was picketed by members of the visual effects community trying to raise awareness about the financial hardships many in that industry face.  You see, Hollywood studios have basically been involved in a class war against below-the-line talent (like visual effects artists, writers, prop people, production designers, etc.) for some time now.  With movie budgets ballooning past all semblance of reality, many of the studios have started outsourcing the VFX work to cheaper locales overseas in order to take advantage of significant savings in cost and manpower, as well as tax breaks and subsidies.  For the artist who's slaved over a hot computer for years in order to make the physically impossible digitally possible, this relentless "cut costs at all costs" approach has resulted in long hours, poor working conditions, bad pay, no respect, and potential job loss.  Too make matters worse, most of the artists and the companies they work for don't get to participate in any profit sharing if the film is a hit.

When I lived in LA, I interned at two separate digital effects houses, one of them did the VFX for Smallville and the other was finishing up some VFX for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest.  I saw first hand just what they went through.  Say what you want about the Pirates franchise, but there's no denying that the visual effects were stunning.  I think Davy Jones is the most perfectly realized digital villain ever made because of the blood sweat and tears those animators poured into him for 20 hours a day, seven days a week, for months on end without a break.  When the project ended, their pay was barely better than mine!

Anyway, this above-the-line/ below-the-line rivalry came to a head during this Sunday's Oscar telecast when Bill Westenhofer, a VFX supervisor for Rhythm and Hues, accepted the award his company won for their work on Life of Pi and had his mic cut when he started to talk about the financial difficulties facing his company.  In fact, Rhythm and Hues, the powerhouse FX company behind Babe, Happy Feet, The Incredible Hulk, 300, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Hunger Games just filed for bankruptcy because it kept getting underbid by oversea FX houses.  It didn't help matters when Ang Lee failed to thank the VFX guys in his Best Director speech and actively undermined the entire VFX industry a few days ago by publicly wishing that visual effects were cheaper.

IO9 has a nice write up here about the situation.  You should also read this piece by Drew McWeeny of HitFix, one of the best film critics on the web today. They explain better than I do why this is important.

As a film fan, this bugs the hell out of me because I want to see quality work made by people who are good at their jobs.  As a producer it frustrates me because I've seen too many people boxed out of deserving financial reward because they weren't powerful enough to fight for their rights.  As a human being and American, it angers me because this schism in the entertainment world pretty accurately mirrors the class war going on in the rest of the economy. And as a lawyer, it incenses me because there are so few legal avenues available for these guys to fight back, even if they are willing.

As a general matter, our current law is somewhere between 10-15 years behind the times; for all intents and purposes it's stuck in 1997. When it comes to protected groups, this country has done a good job legislating to protect people against discrimination based on race, gender, national origin, age, and disability.  But it's clear that Congress does not recognize any class division in this country and thus has no intention to protect class through legislation.  And make no mistake, above-the-line types like executives, directors, and producers are in a wholly separate financial class than the below-the-line talent like VFX artists and writers.  They're the ones living paycheck to paycheck.  They're the ones going without medical coverage so they afford gas to drive their kids to school, they're the ones who never know where the next paycheck is coming from and as a result rent their homes instead of owning because they could lose their job like *that* and heaven help them pay property taxes in LA with no money coming in.  So when the high muck-a-mucks make a decision to freeze out the VFX artists from getting any kind of financial or personal recognition, much like they did during 2007's Writer's Strike, it means that their legal options are few and far between.  In short, the VFX artists don't have any legal rights to fall back on outside of any contractual ones that might have been breached.

Devin Faraci over at Badass Digest (another of the web's best film journalists) suggested that it's time for the VFX artists to unionize, and I like that idea. But Devin also recognized that as a culture we've largely moved past that.  And really, it's not like belonging to the WGA helped the writers in 2007.  So what else can the artists do?  Well, raising awareness and generating public support is certainly key if they want to increase their bargaining power.  But to be honest, I don't really think they have a strong legal challenge here, and that pisses me off.  Our current law is just not adequately designed to help those who earn less than others, and now the VFX artists in Hollywood are going to be the next casualty.

When The Movies Get It Right: Good Cops, Bad Cops, and American Gangsters

In the pantheon of 70's style American crime films, Ridley Scott's 2007 American Gangster is a solid entry, but it's not great, and certainly no all-timer. There's a kind of undercooked quality to it that prevents it from rising to the level of French Connection, an inspiration American Gangster clearly wears on it's sleeve. That's partly because the film doesn't know if it wants to glorify or criticize the gangster lifestyle, and partly because Sir Ridley, while a talented filmmaker, simply doesn't understand American social mores, so the racial aspects of the story (out of which a significant amount of the drama flows) feel half-thought out. It also doesn't help that Scott wants every outdoor scene to take place in the middle of a snow flurry, even though the film was clearly shot sometime in August (seriously man, have the courtesy to digitally erase the green tree leaves if you're trying to convince me that it's the middle of December).

What keeps the film from cracking under the weight of its own dopey seriousness is the raw thundering power of Denzel Washington's mobster Frank Lucas, the understated badassitude of Russell Crowe's incorruptible cop Richie Roberts, and Josh Brolin's mustache. Also there's a conversation that occurs between Frank and Richie near the end of the film that just floors me every time I watch it. Frank Lucas has been finally captured and it turns out that he's become the biggest heroin dealer in New York, by far outclassing the Italian Mafioso's who want Frank's head on a platter. Richie, who has spent the past two years trying to nail Frank, finally has his chance to interrogate him.

Frank

What do you want me to do? Snitch, huh? I know you don't want me to give up no cops. What do you want? You want gangsters? Pick one. Jew gangsters? Mick gangsters? Guineas? They've been bleeding Harlem dry since they got off the boat, Richie. I don't give a fuck about no crime figures. You can have them.

Richie

I'll take them, too.

Frank

You'll take them, too? No, you didn't. You're talking about police. You want police? You want your own kind?

Richie

They're not my kind. They're in business with you, Frank, they ain't my kind. They ain't my kind like the Italians are not yours.

Take that Frank! The films take great pains to show us that Richie has a reputation as an untouchable, especially in comparison to Brolin's Detective Trupo who is basically selling the French Connection dope on the side to afford his big house and sporty car. To illustrate: early in the film, Richie and his partner discover almost a million dollars in cash stuffed in the trunk of a car. Instead of skimming a little off the top, like most cops in the early 70's would have, Richie turns it all in. Every cent. And that kind of incorruptibility makes him a target. His partner leaves him and no one will work with him.  Eventually Richie is hired to head up a federal narco task force made up of other good cops and together they go after Frank.  As a result of the above-conversation between Richie and Frank, 3/4 of the entire NYPD narcotics division is arrested for corruption.

And you know how they do it?  Through good cop work.  Investigations based on probable cause.  Arrests based on valid warrants.  Interrogations that don't violate the suspects' Miranda rights.   I've seen the film about a dozen times and I haven't seen a single 4th, 5th, or 6th Amendment right being violated.

Now for those of you who don't know me very well, I am - by all accounts - a big square.  Like any rational person, I don't like bad cops. But I also don't support films where bad cops are celebrated.  The only cops and robbers movie that dares get close yet still earns my respect is L.A. Confidential.  The film is an absolute classic in a way that American Gangster will never be, but in L.A. Confidential, the good guy Ed Exley, ends up shooting the bad guy in the back AFTER THE BAD GUY SURRENDERED!!! The only reason I can even remotely tolerate that is because the bad guy turned out to be L.A. Police Captain Dudley Smith, who was also secretly running the mob and indiscriminately killing civilians and police detectives over 25 pounds of heroin.  Exley probably didn't need to shoot Smith in the back, but I can understand that letting Smith go would be a non-starter (Smith's cache with the Police Chief and District Attorney would almost certainly result in him getting his charges dismissed and leaving him free to exact revenge on Exley).  Now to be fair, while I can justify killing Smith, I feel icky about the mental gymnastics required of me to make that moral choice... thank God it's only a movie!

So while American Gangster isn't a great film and sometimes feels like two halves of two different stories, I can get on board with it because it has cojones to be square, to not celebrate shooting the bad guy in the back, to celebrate good cop work, like another 2007 crime drama I wrote about a few months ago, David Fincher's Zodiac.   The fact that Richie was able to take down all those bad cops by doing good cop work in real life is icing on the cake, and gives me hope for our men and women walking the thin blue line.

Court to Netflix: "You Don't Got Mail"

Well, barely two weeks have passed since my self-imposed exile from the blog, but I promised that I would I pipe up if something caught my interest, so here I am, piping away!

A few days ago, a three judge panel in Washington D.C. smacked the U.S. Post Office for giving favorable treatment to Netflix.  Gamefly, the  video-game-by-mail service, sued the Post Office claiming that mail order DVDs sent out by Netflix were bypassing the traditional route and being fast-forwarded to customers.  The end result was discrimination against Gamefly and other mail order services by forcing them into slower routes, while making them to pay higher shipping fees than Netflix.

Netflix sure doesn't need this right now.  They've had a rough go of it the past 16 months.  First there was the price hike debacle in September 2011 which saw customers abandoning the service like it was afflicted with syphilis.   Their stocks tanked after less than stellar subscribership in the third quarter this year.  And don't forget the recent spate of outages. Even now with their stock rebounding after scoring a partnership to stream Disney content, Netflix is in a tenuous place because their long-term plan to move from a mail delivery service to an entirely streaming online service is both pricey and technology dependent.  Not to mention that Netflix has to continue negotiating deals with movie studios: high-level sophisticated players who negotiate like mobsters because they know without their content, Netflix dies.  Which means that if Netflix wants to keep streaming content, there's going to be a price hike sometime in the future... probably sooner than later too.  God help Reed Hastings when he has to make that public announcement!  This means that Netflix is going to be leaning on its DVD mail service longer than it expected way back in the halcyon days of August 2011 when Qwikster sounded like a good idea.  So this Gamefly lawsuit is pretty much a kick in the nuggets for Netflix any way you look at it.

But here's my prediction: Netflix isn't going anywhere.  First, mail order or streaming, Netflix still does it better than anyone else and with a wide enough selection of content to make most people think twice about leaving.  Second, Netflix is expanding its business model by creating original content and picking up critical darling Arrested Development (one of my all-time faves) for a 14 episode run, with potential for a fifth season.  Lastly, DVDs are a dead format and everyone knows it.  DVD sales have been steadily declining over the past few years.  I'm a big fan of physical formats like Blu-ray because of the high quality audio-video presentation, but I'll also acknowledge that I'd rather rent through Netflix, Hulu, or Apple TV the vast majority of the time, and I think the American public agrees with me.  Hell, even my mom stopped watching DVDs.  She now watches movies exclusively On Demand.  My mom!!!  The Blu-Ray player I bought her two years ago is the fanciest dust collection device she owns.

Netflix knows the end of the physical format is nigh; their problem is that they got bitten for trying to usher it along sooner than the public was ready.  But that time is here folks.  And Netflix helped lead the way.

Okay, back into exile I go...

Filmmaker-2-Filmmaker: Tip 4 - You Need To Insure Your Gear

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with my cousin, a freelance photographer living in Los Angeles.  He had been shooting some fashion shots at a client's warehouse and paused to look over some of the slides with the client.  He set his camera on the ground and one of the client's employees accidentally kicked it while walking by.  Luckily, the camera body (worth about $5K retail) remained intact, but the lens was shot to hell. It would cost him $600 to replace and he wasn't sure if he should ask the client to cover that cost.  On the one hand, the client was responsible and my cousin didn't have 600 spare dollars lying around.  On the other hand, my cousin is a freelancer and didn't want to risk losing the client by asking him to pay for the lens.  To add another wrinkle, he needed to get the lens replaced ASAP because he only had the one camera and couldn't book more jobs without it.

We discussed the pros and cons of approaching the client, but in my mind, time and ability to book more jobs was more important, so I told my cuz "file a claim with your insurance company right away."  His response: "I don't have insurance."  D'oh!

With the exception of acting or interpretive dance, every artist needs some form of equipment to do the job.   All art is reliant on it, especially film and photography.  Which is why you absolutely, positively, unequivocally without hesitation need to insure your gear.

Because here's the thing: your gear is the single biggest investment you will ever make in your work.  And if it gets damaged, your ability to do your job decreases exponentially.  You do have some legal options, but the law is not particularly user friendly, what with all the time and money involved in suing someone... money that you probably don't have lying around waiting to be burned.  And anyway, why sue when insurance is so much cheaper and easier?   Besides, it's not like you have an unassailable right to have the client pay for your damaged gear (unless the client agrees to it in writing which I've never seen in my seven years of producing television). In my experience, insuring your gear is the best way to cover your ass... especially in those early lean years when you really can't afford to piss off a client by demanding he pay for gear he broke.

Truth: early in my freelance career, I had upwards of $15K worth of camera and editing gear insured through a "personal articles policy" with State Farm.  Do you know how much I paid on a monthly basis to have that peace of mind? $10 a month.  And the policy covered theft, loss, and damage (even if I was the responsible party).  Having that coverage was a no-brainer.  And because of it, I never had to jeopardize a relationship with a client over equipment that was damaged, and I never had to cancel a gig because I couldn't afford to replace broken gear.

But let's say you have no insurance and your client smashes your camera to bits.  Let's also assume that your relationship with the client is beyond saving and you're willing to litigate.  From my seat, there are two legal options.  If you can't prove that your client maliciously destroyed your property but he/she is clearly to blame for its demise, you could sue for damages under a simple run-of-the-mill negligence claim.  Even if the damage was done by the client's employee as opposed to the client him/herself, the client will still be liable for it (in tort law, respondeat superior makes the actions of an employee attributable to the employer).

On the other hand, if you have some proof that the client (or the client's employee) willfully and maliciously destroyed your equipment?  You could sue under the intentional tort of trespass to chattels, otherwise known as vandalism.

The problem with litigation, of course, is the cost.  Not just in litigation fees, but in time.  An average lawsuit can take years to litigate and cost tens of thousands of dollars.  It's a serious investment that can get even more serious if you lose.  That's not even mentioning the emotional and creative suckage it causes.  And if you're a small-business owner or struggling artist, do you really want a lawsuit taking up space in your brain when it could be filled with creative stuff instead?  I spoke before about sweating the business stuff, and I think insurance is no.1 or no.2 on the list of smart, cheap things that will help your business in the short and long run.

The Avengers and Copyright Reform

In honor of the most shoppingest weekend of the year, I'd like to discuss how The Avengers got me thinking about copyright reform.

You see, following the mammoth success of The Avengers this past summer, Marvel Entertainment (owned by Disney) planned to release a six-film box set just in time for the holidays that contained Blu-rays of The Avengers, Iron Man, Iron Man 2, The Incredible Hulk, Thor, and Captain America. The films would arrive in a package that replicated the metal briefcase used in The Avengers to carry the film's MacGuffin, the "tesseract."  Here's what it looked like:

Unfortunately for Marvel, the release of the box set was put on hold when German luggage manufacturer Rimowa GmbH sued for trademark infringement and trademark dilution, alleging that the silver briefcase for the six-movie collection was too similar to one of its products, and that releasing the box set would hurt its brand.  The good news for consumers is that while it won't be ready for your holiday shopping needs, the set WILL be released in April with new packaging and special features.

When I read Rimowa's complaint, I rolled my eyes at their claim of trademark dilution claim (they may have a good case on the infringement claim... but I won't use this space to weigh the merits of that argument).  "Here we go again" I thought.  "Another instance of one giant company wielding their intellectual property as a weapon against another giant company so they can squeeze out a few more pennies."  Then my next thought was "at least it's Disney getting sued and not some poor struggling artist."

As you know, I'm a big supporter of intellectual property protection, especially as it pertains to individual artists and creators.  But when the copyright holder is a multinational corporation, my support for protection becomes less absolute.  I don't like bullies and I especially don't like it when giant corporations use their copyrights* to trample over innovation, even if that innovation means some copyrights get infringed.  And to my surprise, a Republican staffer named Derek Khanna agrees with me, writing a policy paper on copyright reform that recently caused a stir.  In the paper, Khanna argues chiefly that our current system of copyright law actually harms the free market, hurts the consumer, and stifles creativity and innovation.  Khanna further argues that the powers to protect intellectual property granted to Congress in the Constitution were designed not solely to benefit the creator.  Rather, they were created to benefit the public, and creator compensation was just a way to fulfill that need.  FYI, the actual text of the Constitution, Article 1, Section 8 reads that Congress shall have the power:

"To promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing for limited times to authors and inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries."

Khanna recommends several fixes, most of which I agree with.  Expanding Fair use protections (basically, allowing more people to use copyrighted material for certain purposes without paying for it), lowering statutory damages (current damages can see you paying upwards of $150K for each infringed work.  Khanna argues that it's un-American to charge someone millions of dollars for downloading a few dozen songs), punishing false copyright claims (I've talked about this issue before), and significantly lowering the length of copyright ownership from "life of author + 70 years" to 14 years, renewable every 14 years while the author is alive.  Khanna's paper proved so controversial that 24 hours after publishing it, his Republican bosses removed the paper and issued a letter stating that the paper hadn't been properly vetted.  Which makes sense after all; the major media companies (who are also the biggest copyright holders in the world) are big political donors.

In the case of Rimowa v. Marvel, the stakes aren't very high for the average consumer.  People will get the box set they want eventually and if they can't wait, they can go out and buy the films individually.  Disney is going to be just fine... maybe a few million bucks poorer, but that's about it. The underlying issue here is larger than whether I can go and buy a cardboard case filled with movies.  It even goes beyond how much power our current copyright law grants to companies that can use those copyrights to bully the small artist and innovator.  The issue really boils down to whether companies have the same rights as individuals.  Should a company get the same rights I get under the law?  While Khanna's paper rarely singles out corporations as the biggest profiteers and abusers under our current copyright law, it's difficult to imagine that he wasn't thinking about them directly while writing it.   In one passage, he says that "Current public policy should create a disincentive for companies to continue their copyright indefinitely..."  The whole point of the paper seems to be this: copyright too often is used as a weapon to harm individual creators.  Disincentivize that by making copyright ownership less profitable for the corporate owner.  I wholeheartedly agree.  Actually, I will agree with and support just about any reform that takes the power out of the hands of the corporate copyright owner and gives it back to the individual creator.  Art should belong to the artist.

And if the end result is that I can get my Avengers box set sooner than later, then that will be a welcome side effect.

* For the record, yes I do know the difference between copyright and trademark.  For the purpose of this post, however, I'm treating them as interchangeable because they protect different types of the same thing... intellectual property.

147 Years Later, Lincoln is Still Relevant

[Author's Note: I discuss what may be considered spoilers below, so if you haven't seen Lincoln, or don't want to wikipedia the events surrounding the 13th Amendment's passage, read no further.]

There are two moments towards the end of Lincoln that made me realize why the film should be shown in every high school civics class.

In the first, Lincoln is surrounded by his advisers and they warn him that passing the 13th Amendment at the expense of a negotiated peace with the south is impossible.  In fact, it is tantamount to political suicide. By this point, however, Lincoln is exhausted from all the jabbering and naysaying and decides to put an end to it.  He doesn't want to hear why they CAN'T pass the Amendment, he wants to hear HOW they can pass the Amendment.  He wants to get his way, come hell or high water.  For only the second time in the film, Honest Abe loses his temper and thunders the most quotable line in the movie: "I am the President of the United States of America! Clothed in immense power!" The room goes silent and the point is clear: there is only one item on the President's legislative agenda that matters, passage of the 13th Amendment.

Shortly after, Lincoln goes to meet with the three negotiators hired by Secretary of State William Seward to get the 22 democratic votes needed in the House of Representatives to pass the Amendment. Lincoln not so subtly discusses with the negotiators - played by John Hawkes, Tim Blake Nelson, and James Spader - exactly how to "convince" these democrats how to vote across party lines in favor of the Amendment. Some of those convincing techniques involve bribery, threats, and favors to lame duck congressmen who weren't reelected (one settles for becoming the postmaster of his county).

Taken together, these scenes perfectly encapsulate the thematic bottom line of Lincoln: that politics is about getting things done, even if it means breaking the law to do it. Certainly the film has a lot more on its mind... bravery, morality, how little our political system has changed over the centuries. But make no mistake, Lincoln wants us to see how the sausage gets made, so to speak, and come away with the realization that lawmaking isn't a zero sum game. Just because your bill is righteous and takes the moral high ground doesn't mean it will pass automatically.  It is okay (and often necessary) to do a little evil in order to do a great good. Lincoln certainly believed that during his political life. The 13th Amendment, the largest progressive restructuring of America's social contract, happened mainly because palms were greased, wheels were dealed, and favors doled out... all at the order of the President of the United States (at one point, the vote on the Amendment is stalled when rumors arise that delegates from the south have come to seek a peace. Lincoln writes a note to be delivered to the Speaker of the House denying that such an event has happened... even though it is in fact true.  Lincoln's aide refuses to deliver the fraudulent note. Lincoln smiles, takes the note, tenderly holds the hand of his aide as if to say "I understand", and then gently hands it to another aide to deliver, who promptly sprints back to the Capitol building to deliver it.)

Today, the media saturates the American public with all the ups and downs, and ins and outs of our political system. As a result, we feel like we see a lot about how our laws are passed in this country. We understand that politicians vote along the party line and do not cross the aisle unless they are compelled to do so for a moral reason or because they've been "convinced." Lincoln argues this is indeed the case, but maybe that isn't a bad thing. Lincoln and his supporters have no compunction about buying the votes they needed in a flawed and messy system because they knew that the future of the country depends on the Amendment's passage. And while it's easy to get discouraged by the apparent lack of progress in this country, the film argues that America's system of passing and amending laws is painfully slow by design. It prevents zealots from taking over and changing the nation's social, political, and class structure on a whim. Real change takes a magnanimous effort to overcome the significant political inertia that's built up over time.  The result is this: when that change comes, it's here to stay.

Lincoln knew why the 13th Amendment was so important.  Like a canonball to the gut, it signaled that America was finally on the path towards achieving the heart and soul of the Declaration of Independence: "we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." That's a battle we're still fighting today, but at least we're winning it. Even still, Lincoln doesn't shy away from the messiness of that balancing act. In one scene, he discusses the 'slipperiness' of his interpretation of his powers. In yet another scene, he acknowledges to another character that he has no idea what's in store for the country or it's black population after the Amendment passes. But he knows that this is a battle that needed to be fought, and he was going to use every tool in his arsenal (regardless of its legality) to win that battle.

It's a pragmatic view. It's a realistic view. It's a view that understands morality has a place in politics, but should not get in the way of politics. It is completely unromantic and it cuts against the moral righteousness and manifest certainty we are taught about our country. And that's exactly why it should be taught in our schools. We need to have a much more sophisticated understanding of how our government works. Only then can we get our government to truly work for the people. Lincoln is a masterpiece because it doesn't coddle us and give us the 5th grade version of things. It's a masterpiece because it understands that we can still do great things, even when we do them wrongly.

Harry Potter et al v. The Ministry of Magic a.k.a. Why Are There No Safety Regulations In The Harry Potter Universe?

Has anyone other than me noticed the stunning lack of safety regulations present in the Harry Potter universe? I'm a big fan of the films (to my wife's never-ending chagrin, I refuse to read the books for the sole reason that they are not movies), but ever since law school, I have not been able to get over the fact that Potter lives in a world where children are placed in a constant stream of danger. Thanks to the fine programmers at ABC Family, I've had a chance to revisit each Harry Potter film in greater detail and here are just a few samples of the myriad dangers to befall the students at Hogwarts:

1. A system of staircases that move suddenly and without warning (how many students have fallen to their peril because of bad timing?);
2. A giant three-headed dog kept in the castle behind a flimsy wooden door;
3. A competitive game (Quidditch) where children ride on brooms hundreds of feet in the air chasing after balls powerful enough to behead a person;
4. A nearby forest full of beasts such as murderous centaurs, murderous giants, and murderous GIGANTIC SPIDERS;
5. A contest (The Tri-Wizard Tournament) where teenagers are chased by fire-breathing dragons and attacked by violent mer-people in order to win the ugliest trophy I've ever seen;
6. A hateful witch (literally) who comes to school and tortures students by carving words into their skin;

Hell, in Chamber of Secrets, students are actually encouraged to square off against one another in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Now you can argue that the professor, Gilderoy Lockehart, was something of a doofus and quite possibly didn't realize that having children try to kill each other with wands wasn't a good idea, but remember that Severus Snape was also present and by his failure to object, ratified Lockehart's idiocy.

Also, at some point, the school hired a f**king werewolf as a teacher. And this kind of recklessness doesn't stop at Hogwarts... it's all over the magic world. Take the unfortunate case of Seamus Finnigan. He's a peer of Harry who's wand kept malfunctioning and blowing sh*t up in his face. Now maybe we can chalk this up to Seamus' incompetence as a wizard, but I think the blame more appropriately rests at the foot of Garrick Olivander, the man who sells each 1st year his or her wand. As an aged wizard, he should know better, yet he sold a clearly defective wand to this student. Had there been some safety regulations (perhaps a policy about practice wands for students not yet learned in magic), then Seamus might have avoided years of charred skin. If I were a wizard lawyer, I would take Finnigan's case and sue Olivander into an early grave. His actions are at best negligent and at worst criminally reckless.

When you think about it, this seeming lack of regulation really makes no sense. After all, the movies take great pains to show that the magical world has a government with a functioning court/ tribunal system. And throughout the films, characters pay lip service to wizarding law (such as the "no magic under 17" rule for which Harry was unreasonably prosecuted in Order of the Phoenix). So why does there appear to be no measurable safety regulation for children?

So let's do something here. Let's come up with some sample legislation. I'll get the ball rolling:

1. Minors under the age of 13 may only purchase wands with limited magical capabilities.
2. Minors under the age of 17 may not work with dangerous creatures without a consenting adult present.
3. Minors under the age of 15 may not ride a broom.

I'm open to your suggestions to make the Harry Potter universe a safe place for students to learn magic without fearing for their own death.

Filmmaker-2-Filmmaker: Tip 3 - Sweat The Business Stuff

Have you seen Night of the Living Dead?  Even if you haven't, you are probably aware of its influence.  The 1968 George Romero horror film is the progenitor of every modern zombie trope; the shambling, the flesh-eating, the brain-lust.  Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later, Resident Evil, World War Z, the list of imitators and followers extends to infinity.  Everything you know about zombies came from this film.  On top of that, the film is great.  It was terrifying in a way that horror films just weren't until then.  The black and white cinematography is among the most beautiful ever put on film.  And forty-four years later, the film is still teaching us... about copyright?

Before the film was released, it was originally titled Night of the Flesh Eaters, and like all movies of it s day, there was a copyright mark next to the title (that famous little © followed by a date).  But when the title was changed to Night of the Living Dead, the copyright mark was negligently removed.  Based on the copyright law of the time, the absence of the © rendered the film's copyright invalid and the movie immediately entered the public domain.  That meant that anyone could make money off the movie and Romero couldn't do anything about it.  Today, the film is sold on home video by a number of different distributors and is available to view or download free on Hulu and YouTube.

Night isn't the only movie currently in the public domain, but it's rare to see a film on that list that isn't from the 20s, 30s, and 40s.  Thankfully, that law became defunct in 1988 and today artists are no longer required to place the © mark on their work in order to maintain the copyright, although I still recommend doing it (For information on how to protect your copyright, please see my previous post on how and why to register).  Romero has since gone on to make seven million zombie films (only a slight exaggeration), and he owns the copyright to many of them.

So why am I writing about this?  First, because it's an awesome anecdote and an appropriate one for the first day of October.  Second, because it functions as a cautionary tale for every artist out there.  It's tempting to say "I'll take care of the art now and worry about the business stuff later" because as artists, that's where our passion lies.  Our instinct says that if the art is good enough, the business stuff will just fall into place on its own.  Of course, that isn't the reality.  I can attest to that from personal experience...people will try to take advantage of you, either by design or accident.  No one is going to protect your work for you, which is why you need to sweat the business stuff from the moment you begin a project until the moment you deliver it.  It may not be fun to labor over copyright applications or contracts, but that's how you prevent the world from gaining unfettered access to your work (and let's face it, if you're an artist your work isn't just a living, it is an extension of you).  To Romero, the image of zombies in a field was the most terrifying thing he could think of.  To me, it's the idea that because of a little negligence, someone else can make money off your work.

If you're an artist or a filmmaker, you need to condition yourself to take the business side seriously from the beginning.  Don't leave it to the end and certainly don't leave it entirely in the care of another.  Here are some things you should be asking yourself:

1. Is my original work registered with the U.S. Copyright Office?  If not, it should be.
2. Regardless of whether I registered my copyright, did I put ©, the date of publication, and my name on the work?  If not, I should.
3. Do I know what my value is?  If not, I should figure it out and stick by it.
4. Do I have a contract?  If not, I should have one.  It doesn't need to be long or lawyer-y.  It just has to state the terms.  It doesn't even have to be drafted by a lawyer (although it helps).
5. If I'm pitching original ideas, did I have people sign non-disclosure agreements?  I should.
6. Do I own the copyright or does my employer?  This is called work-for-hire and the general rule is that if you are hired to do a creative work for someone, the employer, not you, owns the copyright (this is a bigger issue and I'll tackle it in a future post).
7. Did I double and triple check all my papers (including papers that I had other people sign and papers that other people had me sign)?

Bottom line: pay attention to every little particular because the devil - or in this case, the zombies - are in the details.

Why Movie Theaters Suck and How To Fix Them

Today I'm going to discuss something near and dear to my heart, so I hope you'll treat what I'm about to say with the respect and gravitas it deserves... modern movie theaters suck.  Last week my wife and I went to see The Master and these are some of the myriad distractions that prevented me from engaging with the film:

1. The lady sitting behind me kept kicking my seat and futzing with her cell phone.
2. An old man several seats away kept mumbling to himself throughout the film.
3. A middle-aged lady kept shushing the old man to keep quiet, and when the shushing didn't work, she outright yelled at him.
4. That same middle-aged woman left the film after an hour (along with her two companions) never to return.  They made quite a ruckus when leaving.
5. A woman came in 3/4 of the way through the movie and sat in a seat next to me.  She started munching loudly on some snacks that she had smuggled in from home, and shifted in her seat.  She then left the theater after 10 minutes.
6. Halfway through the film, five ushers came in and stood at the entrance crunching on popcorn and talking loudly to each other.

For a long time, movies were my religion and the cineplex was my temple.  I worshipped frequently: with friends, family, and often by myself.  While I noticed the decline in the viewing experience over the years, I kept going because I wanted to give my business to films that needed and deserved my support.  Nowadays, I've largely become a theater expat.  Why?  I don't remember the last time I went to see a movie and didn't have the entire experience ruined by people talking and texting, children yammering at age-inappropriate films, and the relentless stickiness of every surface.  Movie theaters have become a wholly unpleasant way to spend a few hours.  When I go now, it's only for the films that I've been hotly anticipating or that demand a 50 foot screen.  For the rest, my home theater will do quite nicely.  Like me, many of you have stopped going with regularity.  The figures certainly bear that out... despite this summer seeing two films that annihilated the box office (The Avengers and The Dark Knight Rises), summer movie ticket sales have declined by $100 million since 2002 and movie ticket sales as a whole are at their lowest in decades.

There's a great article over at Fast Company that discusses how design is the key to improving the theater experience and increasing ticket sales.  The crux of their argument is that theater owners are trying to compete with home theaters, Netflix, Hulu, Apple TV, and Blu-ray.  That means buying the latest digital projectors, sound systems, and investing in 3D and Imax technologies.  Except, home movie watching isn't competing with theaters for business.  Rather, movie theaters are really in competition with Friday night social venues - such as clubs, restaurants, bars, bowling alleys, etc. - and Fast Company argues that theater owners should be rebuilding the entire movie-going experience around that social engine.  Some of their suggestions are fascinating and could work really well: liquor bars, private viewing boxes for large groups, intimate lounge areas near the actual theater.  One of their most intriguing ideas is to set up a "trailer lounge" where you can gather with your friends in a comfortable seating area and watch the latest trailers and discuss them without fear of being shushed.  [I personally suggest instituting a tiered pricing system and assigned seating...the Arclight Theater in Hollywood does this.]

I applaud this out-of-the-box approach and I sincerely hope that some intrepid theater owner will be willing to embrace these innovative ideas.  For anyone fed up with the state of the modern movie theater, the article is a must read.  But Fast Company only gets at part of the problem.  You see, while the act of "going" to a movie is generally a social activity, the "watching" of the movie is decidedly solitary; after all, you are compelled to sit in silence for two hours. So while theater owners can gussy up the pre- and post-show experiences, the movie-watching experience remains largely unchanged.  And that's precisely the problem: the movie-watching experience has been substantially compromised by strangers bereft of cinema etiquette.  Personally, I don't care if the lobby is nice or that the film is being projected with the latest digital technology.  All the amenities in the world can't make me enjoy a film that I can't hear or see because of inconsiderate theater-goers.   Tim League, owner of the Austin-based Alamo Drafthouse theater, agrees.

A year ago, League earned some fame by ejecting a customer who texted during a movie despite two warnings to stop (because of theater policy, the customer was not refunded her money).  League blogged about that incident here.  The customer was so incensed that she left a voicemail at the Drafthouse, which League turned into a "Don't Talk or Text PSA."  Here it is in all it's hilarious glory.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1L3eeC2lJZs&w=560&h=315]

League has hit upon exactly the right strategy for making the movie-watching experience better (and thus more appealing to customers): TOSS THE BUMS OUT!   It is so simple, so affordable, and so effective that I can't believe no one has implemented it in any meaningful way.  In the golden age of cinema, theaters employed uniformed ushers to patrol the theater and remove the riff-raff.  Most theaters don't do that anymore and I can't figure out why.  After all, there's virtually no legal downside.  Businesses can't discriminate on the basis of race, gender, disability, age, etc., but they can generally pick and choose with whom they wish to do business.  Furthermore, businesses are allowed to expel customers from their property for just about any reason.  When you go to a movie, you are being invited onto private property.  Such an invitation is revocable anytime by the business owner because your presence on the property is a privilege, not a right... even if you paid to be there.

Theater chains must know that if they were sued by expelled theater goers they would almost certainly be judgment proof.  So if there's no fear of a lawsuit, why don't they just kick out unruly patrons?  Are they afraid of bad press?  Are they afraid of physical confrontations?  In my opinion, it's most likely inertia combined with a deep-seated apathy; once they have your money, they don't care if you have a pleasant experience.  In fact, some chains, namely Regal and Imax, are doubling down on the bad experience angle by creating "texting friendly theaters"!!  League has spoken out about that here.  He writes that

"By introducing screenings where people are free to text during the movie, you will be creating unhappy customers at every single session.  It really boils down to the undeniable fact that texting in a movie theater is rude, selfish, and adversely affects everyone within view of your glowing device.  The only answer to this debate is taking a hard line.  Texting and talking can not be allowed in movie theaters.  Our spaces are sacred spaces for movie fans... To me, the leniency towards talking and texting is a greater threat to our industry."

I agree with that sentiment and I think most of you agree with it too.  There's a reason why theater ticket sales are down, and I wager it's mostly because going to the movies has become intolerable.  If the theaters don't care about my experience, then why should I pay for that experience?  In response to the rude texter who he ejected, Tim League wrote,  "you may be free to text in all the other theaters... but here at our 'little crappy ass theater,' you are not.  Why you may ask?  Well, we actually do give a f*$k."  I think that more amenities, features, and radical design makeovers will definitely help to increase ticket sales, but undoubtedly the future of the movie theater industry will rest on whether theater owners start giving an old-fashioned f*$k.

When The Movies Get It Right: A Courtroom Scene With True Grit

If you're writing a screenplay that features a pivotal courtroom scene and you want to figure out how to write it, you could buy "Basic Trial Advocacy," a trial practice manual by Peter Murray.  I used this book during my second year of law school and it's really fantastic.  Well explained and easy to understand.  Or you can just watch True Grit (The Coen Brothers 2010 remake).  It has one of the most accurate portrayals of a legal proceeding I have ever seen in a Hollywood production.

About 15 minutes into the film, we meet protagonist, Marshal Reuben J. "Rooster" Cogburn (played by Jeff Bridges as a violent, cocksure, slurring drunkard) giving testimony at the trial of Odus Wharton.  The scene is played for humor and as an introduction to Cogburn's predilection for killing his suspects.  The dialogue is classic Coen Brothers: pithy, wry, and rhythmic.  It's also delivered by magnificent actors like Bridges who have the ear to turn that dialogue from a garbled mess into something almost musical.

But beyond the masterful writing and acting, the scene plays because the Coens clearly did research on what a trial actually feels like.  I don't know whether they picked up a trial advocacy book like the one I mentioned above, whether they sat in on real trials, or hired a lawyer to write that scene, but whatever they did worked.  So often I get the impression that Hollywood writers don't do the research, or would rather indulge their dramatic proclivities instead of going for something accurate.  If you've been reading this blog, then you know I am a firm believer that drama and realism need not be mutually exclusive.  

Let's look at what makes this scene authentic.  [This is going to be a bit long-winded, so bear with me.  Take a look at my Dark Knight Rises post if you're looking for something short.  I praised that film as well for its legal veracity.]  As the prosecutor, Mr. Barlow, conducts his direct-examination on Cogburn, the defense attorney Mr. Goudy, played with a great deal of huff by actor Joe Stevens, objects to the questions (I've highlighted the objections in red).

Mr. Barlow

What did you do then?

Cogburn

Me and Marshal Potter went out to the smokehouse and that rock had been moved and that jar was gone.

Mr. Goudy

Objection. Speculative.

Judge

Sustained.

Mr. Barlow

You found a flat gray rock at the corner of the smokehouse with a hollowed-out space under it?

Mr. Goudy

If the prosecutor is going to give evidence I suggest that he be sworn.

Mr. Barlow

Marshal Cogburn, what did you find, if anything, at the corner of the smokehouse?

Then later on:

Mr. Barlow

Did you find the jar with the hundred and twenty dollars in it?

Mr. Goudy

Leading.

Judge

Sustained.

Mr. Barlow

What happened then?

Cogburn

I found the jar with a hundred and twenty dollars in it.

Mr. Barlow

And what happened to Marshal Potter?

Cogburn

Died. Leaves a wife and six babies.

Mr. Goudy

Objection.

Judge

Strike the comment.

It's difficult to tell just from reading the passage, but the interactions between Mr. Goudy and Mr. Barlow weren't underscored by tension, animosity, or high drama.  There  was no attempt to cast Mr. Barlow as the good guy and Mr. Goudy as the villain.  The two men continued their questioning as if these things just happen.  And you know what?  They do.  All the time.  I've seen my fair share of trials; good lawyers often ask speculative or leading questions, sometimes by accident and sometimes on purpose.  The other side objects because they're supposed to.  In real life, there's no seething anger or hatred between them.  Yes, both sides fight hard (sometimes viciously) for their clients, but there's generally a sense of deference between attorneys.  That deference played out in this scene.  What no one tells you is that real trials are very structured.  Both sides generally know what the other side is going to ask, so they plan accordingly, which is why those dramatic "gotcha" moments happen so rarely.  The Coens understood that in a way that few people who haven't sat through a real trial would.

Here's another reason why this scene works: the Coens got the language and legal theory right.  Look at this interaction once Mr. Goudy began to cross-examine Cogburn.

Mr. Goudy

In your four years as U.S. marshal, Mr. Cogburn, how many men have you shot?

Mr. Barlow

Objection.

Mr. Goudy

There is more to this shooting than meets the eye, Judge Parker. I will establish the bias of this witness.

Judge

Objection is overruled.

Mr. Goudy

How many, Mr. Cogburn?

Cogburn

I never shot nobody I didn't have to.

Mr. Goudy

That was not the question. How many?

Cogburn

. . . Shot or killed?

Mr. Goudy

Let us restrict it to "killed" so that we may have a manageable figure.

Cogburn

Around twelve or fifteen. Stopping men in flight, defending myself, et cetera.

Mr. Goudy

Around twelve or fifteen. So many that you cannot keep a precise count. Remember, you are under oath. I have examined the records and can supply the accurate figure.

Cogburn

I believe them two Whartons make twenty-three.

Mr. Goudy

Twenty-three dead men in four years.

Cogburn

It is a dangerous business.

Mr. Goudy

How many members of this one family, the Wharton family, have you killed?

Cogburn

Immediate, or--

Mr. Barlow

Your honor, perhaps counsel should be advised that the marshal is not the defendant in this action.

Mr. Goudy

The history is relevant your honor. Goes to Cogburn's methods and animosities.

Notice the different way each attorney questioned Cogburn.  In the first excerpts, Mr. Barlow questioned Cogburn, his own witness.  Since Cogburn was the prosecutor's witness, Mr. Barlow was limited to asking "then what happened" style open-ended questions.  This gives the witness control over the story and prevents the lawyer from feeding answers to a favorable witness.  That's why every time Mr. Barlow tried to focus Cogburn's testimony by asking closed questions, he got smacked by Mr. Goudy and the judge.  So far so good.

Then a shift occurred.  When Mr. Barlow finished his line of questioning, the defense attorney, Mr. Goudy, asked Cogburn a series of leading, sometimes attacking questions on cross-examination (a leading question is one that has the answer already in it). This is because Cogburn was an adverse witness to Mr. Goudy's client and Mr. Goudy was trying to discredit Cogburn by poking holes in his story.  Attorney's are allowed to "lead" adverse witnesses and even make them look like liars.  During his questioning, Mr. Goudy got quite aggressive with Cogburn, but it wasn't played for high drama.  Rather it was treated as an attorney trying to get answers out of an uncooperative witness.  The Coens also got this dynamic right.

Let's talk about the legal theory. Mr. Goudy pushed Cogburn to admit how many men he's killed.  His line of questioning alerted Mr. Barlow who stood up to ask the judge to stop it. Why?  Because Mr. Goudy was about to do a big no-no in trial practice: he was about to attack Cogburn's character.  Under Rule of Evidence 404 in most states, you cannot admit evidence of a person's character for the sole purpose of showing that he is the kind of person who normally does this kind of thing.  From the passage, you can see that Mr. Goudy's questions were designed to show that Cogburn is a man of poor character because he shoots first - therefore he is an unreliable witness.  But the judge allowed it because under Rule 404, you CAN admit evidence of a person's character to show motive, intent, bias, animosity, modus operandi, etc.  Here, Mr. Goudy wished to show that Cogburn had a bias against the Wharton family as is evidenced by his history of gunning down the Whartons. And as Mr. Goudy continued his questioning, we discovered that Cogburn had indeed shot two members of the Wharton before the current altercation, bringing the total to four dead Whartons killed by one man.  The script followed the rules of evidence to a T.

The scene lasted a total of about 7-8 minutes, but in it, we got a sense of the deference between competing sides, the reality of the atmosphere in a real courtroom (and the lack of heightened drama), the correct use of evidentiary rules, and proper trial practice technique. I have to admit bias here.  I am an unabashed admirer of the Coen Brothers and especially their 2010 remake of the John Wayne classic.  I even love the Coen films that I hate.  No one makes movies like these guys.  But bias notwithstanding, I think that you can learn nearly everything you'd need to know about proper trial advocacy from this scene.

Also, yes, I watched the Blu-ray three times so I could transcribe this scene for you.