I was cleaning out my CD drawer and what should I find but a dusty DVD, a copy of a film I'd like to forget, but which is also kinda memorable in many ways.
It was a copy of my first film. The first film I produced. Sounds grand, doesn't it? This film, which no one shall ever get to watch unless they're under my close supervision and even then they will be allowed to watch only the opening title sequence where it says in capital letters, "Produced by Ranjini Iyer and friend".
This labor of love and irritation took about a year and a half of my life and taught me a great deal. The first lesson: don't go about producing films with nary a care as to who is directing/controlling them. Second: this is bloody hard work and Third: I LOVE doing this. Next time, just make sure the people I work for are human and, Fourth: try and get paid for it.
Oh yes, we weren't paid. Or rather we're still waiting for our share of the profits. 5%, I think. It was the cherry on top of this sundae--the two people who walked away from the picture with the most injuries were my producing partner and I and we were the only two not to get paid for our efforts in this masterpiece.
This film (I won't give its name) is so bad, so very bad that Roger Ebert would be rendered too speechless to even give it three, four, six, infinite thumbs down. His thumb would be paralyzed by its badness (I don't mean badness in that hip way which means rad). His hands would be unable to move, his eyes would be blooodshot and unfocused. His lips frozen. His mind numb.
The sad, sad irony is...the book I've written which I think is a competent, strong effort (not genius of course but dashed good) is being rejected left, right and center while this vile piece of @#$%, I mean work, has won awards. Not razzies, but true awards--best picture (har har), best screenplay (which we co-wrote and therefore even more har har).
Despite the crappiness of the end result, I still wouldn't have minded so much the whole process because really, it is most interesting being a Producer. It's like being the COO of an operation. You get to hire people, location scout (since it was a low budget affair, we didn't have a location manager), conduct casting calls, manage the budgets. All this would be wonderful if only we weren't 'Producing' with one and often both arms tied above our heads. I.e no check signing power, no say in the final decision and so on and so forth.
What we were given full power of and left completely alone to deal with were the myriad complaints. Complaints from crew members who weren't paid on time (we didn't have the power to sign checks remember), complaints from actors who were called on set (and who'd taken days off from work) but who weren't on the shooting schedule because someone goofed up, complaints from people receiving rubber checks, complaints from the people who owned various shooting locations regarding insolent behavior on the part of the big guns. Complaints about...you get the idea.
To be honest, there were some flattering moments as well. To the average person on set, we were the top guns. Every so often I'd have some random crew person assume I was an extra and ask me not to stand in his light when I'd very coolly tell him who I was and watch as the gruffness melted into an almost feudal sensibility.
Then there were the overeager ones handing us scripts. We were the Producers right? The ones putting in the money. This is a common misconception. The Producer doesn't necessarily put in any money into a project. We're the hired underlings who're usually paid a lot of money. Executive Producer. Co-Producer and many creative Producer titles are reserved for money givers. Next time while watching a movie, especially an Indie film, see how many producers are listed. Several is the usual answer. The people who did the donkey work and got salaries and the well heeled ones who funded the film and got a title in return.
So much for the industry info. Where was I? Oh yes, the flattering moments. People, usually actors, would walk over to me and tell me about their true ambitions (to direct of course) and that they had a sizzling script that I just had to read. I'd open my mouth to tell them my husband and I were having trouble paying the mortgage (at that time, I was working with three clients on consulting jobs and working nights at an online teaching job. We were undergoing a rather troublesome financial crisis which is a story for a different post :-). But saying that would've sent them packing so all I'd do was nod. And they'd give me their ten second pitch. Now ideally, this should be what the script is about. But usually it would be an opening or very dramatic scene from the film. And of course they always know who they wanted to cast.
"So, what's your script about?" I'd say and glance at my watch as if I had places to go and they'd clear their breath and say, "Picture this. Jim Belushi..he'd be perfect for this part...is standing at an empty corridor. And suddenly, a pack of pit-bulls run up to him and leap towards him. Cut to title sequence." "Yes," I'd say patiently, but what's the rest of the film about. "Oh right," she or he'd say and launch into some detail.
There'd then be a loud call, an irate crew person striding towards me. Some complaint, of course. "Excuse me, important producing business," I'd then say and make my escape before my cover is blown.
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