I was just looking at the Froggy Even cartoon again, and while I appreciate your enthusiasm that it is some sort of "classic," in the making, I'm afraid there are a few notes that I really think we should deal with before moving forward. -First, in the scene with the "Free Beer," the men rush into the theatre having been promised free beer. And when the curtain comes up they see the frog and get angry. Does this track? Are they getting angry about the frog not being able to sing, or the lack of free beer? In fact, the whole concept of the "free beer" and the loss of it seems to get lost. -Where do they get the rotten fruit to throw at the guy? They came in looking for free beer. Why would they suddenly have fruit? Could you rework so this makes sense, please? -I'm not feeling I know enough about the backstory of the construction worker. Who is he and where does he come from? Presumably, since we see his apartment and it seems to be modest, he is single, and you drop a hint that he is very mistrustful of traditional authority (ie: he hides money under the bed) Am very excited by this. Could we make more of this? -re: the frog. Have you done research on Frog's lifespans? Does it track that this frog could survive from 1892 to 2056? Is his long lifespan tied into his ability to sing? -Do they allow mental patients to keep pet frogs? Is it a companion animal thing? Will have to explain this, I think. The audience will want to know. -Please reconsider the choice to have the frog be the only one who speaks. I think this keeps the audience at a distance. Could you perhaps take a look at Family Guy, where they have animals who talk and other people can hear them? Just a thought. -Is the frog singing the right songs? Could we have him sing something that speaks to our demo better? -I'm just throwing this out there -- wouldn't it be more satisfying if, in the end, maybe by accident, the guy actually gets the frog to sing for someone else? Might make for a more uplifting ending -- give the guy more of a 'win.' We're very excited by this Froggy Project and we're sure that with these few minor changes it's going to be something really special. Best.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Reprint: Notes on a Frog
Originally Published 3/07/09
This was one of my most-linked and re-jigged posts ever. You definitely want to click through to the original, too, because the comments are golden.
WILL DIXON had some Friday Fun and posted my favorite Cartoon ever. And today I started futzing around with a comment on his piece which just sort of metastacized into this. So thanks, Will. First, again, here's the Cartoon in question: And here...are The Notes.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Reprint: Conversations With Writers Part XXV: Why Why Why?
Originally published 01/09/2009
One other thing to come out of these discussions has to do with story real estate.
In the world of the 20 minute half hour and the 40 minute hour the problem with the "Why" obsession is that when execs insist too much on the explanation, the time you have to spend on that explanation is robbing time from the entertainment value of the show. (Oddly, film has the opposite story real estate problem. Because running time isn't finite, and it's Director-driven, and Directors are deferred to in a way that writers usually aren't, today you have comedies that should be 90 mins regularly clocking in at 2:10. Think about it. When was the last time you saw a movie that wasn't too long?)
The only alternative to robbing entertainment to explain 'why' is to make the 'Why' intrinsically hilarious or compelling on its own. But of course, the 'why' rarely is. Which is why you want to spend your time on the 'What happens next.'
Last time we got hung up a bit on concrete examples, which is why one of my conversationalists this A.M. really hit on something. The example is Groundhog Day.
If you think of Groundhog Day -- the only 'why's' that are ever explored is the 'why's' behind the individual choices Bill Murray makes during his endlessly repeating day. What you are NOT ever given the 'why' answer to is:
Why did this start? Is it God? Why did he pick Bill Murray? Why this particular Groundhog Day? In other words, Danny Rubin & Harold Ramis do not bog you down in any of the metaphysical questions of how this world came to be or why this is happening to Bill Murray because they know it doesn't matter; what people want to see -- what they willenjoy, is seeing what happens next: why Bill Murray makes the choices he does, and eventually, how he comes to see the world differently.
Well, wait, when he sees the world differently, why does the day move on?
Because it does.
But why?
I don't know. Why do you think?
And that's the movie, and the audience's experience of it.
Now a more recent example of the other way to go - Ghost Town. In this movie, Ricky Gervais' character suddenly starts seeing and being able to talk to dead people. Why? Well, in this case, the explanation of the 'why' IS inherently entertaining. It leads to a great little scene where Gervais slowly pulls the fact that he died for seven minutes while under general anaesthetic out of his reluctant Doctor and a hospital laywer. The scene doesn't particularly move the plot along, but it is entertaining, and helps to reveal Gervais' character a little bit -- you see how impatient he is.
So there you see, the difference in two films where a big "Why" is left unanswered, and where it is answered. And the difference between them is entertainment value. If you can answer the "Why" in an entertaining and inventive way that the audience will enjoy, then do it. But if you can't, it's probably better not to shoehorn in an explanation that may add a scene to a schedule and rob you of a minute of time that could be better spent on making the funny, or deepening the stakes or suspense -- whatever genre you're in. Remember that the total audience you're writing for is not the Simpsons' Comic Book Guy, who are specifically looking for any little thing they can pick apart so they have something to say on Television Without Pity. Civilians just want to be entertained.
In TV, the "Why" argument can go on and on for years. There are lots of people out there who want to say that the pain in his leg is the reason HOUSE is the way he is, even though the show has gone to great pains to suggest here and there that he was completely the same even beforethe thing with the leg. So why is he that way?
I don't know. Why do you think?
Though I'm a big believer in trying to accomodate notes whenever you can, the tyranny of the 'why' can be particularly destructive. Because it forces you to spend brain real estate on something that doesn't make the story better. If there is not an entertaining answer to your 'big why' question, then it doesn't belong in the picture, and this one of those cases where you might have to take a stand.
So, with that in mind: here's your homework: Besides Groundhog Day, can you name other comedy or dramas where a big "Why this Happened" went unanswered and worked -- where, in fact, an explanation of the 'why' would have ruined it.
(Which I firmly believe about Groundhog Day, BTW.)
If you'd like to comment, please click through and add your comment to the original post.
Reprint: The Difference
THIS ONE'S JUST for ironic counterpoint. And because right now I'm working with the great Mike Clattenburg, Guru of the Trailer Park Boys. Question for discussion: how much really has changed? Is Flashpoint really a change? Does the Yankee cut-dollar interest change the equation of the L.A. versus the Toronto meeting I speak of here?
Oh and here's the final punchline -- the projects I speak of so lovingly and promisingly here all died horrible deaths, save one, which I wound up leaving in Post and spent a year on the shelf before entering the Canadian TV Witness Protection Program.
Happy Thursday!
Originally Published 09/08/2005
"The Canadian Television Industry," I have often opined to my much-beleaguered friends, "is not really an industry so much as a toy."
It's tough living next door to the cultural equivalent of Wal Mart. Then you have those gallic cutups next door in Quebec, with their comfy language barrier, making all manner of hoo-hah and fun with their own healthy star system and hit shows.
Americans, you owe yourself a trip to Montreal, just to see a star system and celeb machine right there, right under your nose, that you've never, ever heard of. It's like the days before soundscan when the music industry hadn't yet realized that hip hop was the biggest musical form in the USA, and people were still paying attention, oh, I don't know...to Tim McGraw's hat or something.
Anyway, in Toronto, in what we on the hustings call "English Canada," the path to television and to creativity is at best, fraught, and at worst, suicide-inducing.
The number of hour long dramas on Canadian TV has precipitously declined in the last few years, and it's been the subject of much hand-wringing among Can Culture types. When Alliance Atlantis, who were the biggest production company around, got completely out of production a few years back (deciding to make bones running specialty channels and cashing CSI checks) their CEO left this rose in the middle of the room:
"I think," he said, "That Canadian production has suffered a permanent downturn."
Wow. Thanks for playing, we thought. Enjoy all that Canadian taxpayer money you scooped up over the years. That reminded me (as most things do) of a trenchant Simpsons moment, where Marge asked Homer, "Did you have to salt the earth behind you?" Homer laughed and said,"Yes."
Bottom line: It's been pretty depressing up here for the last few years. Canadian Networks exist on a sliding scale as to how much they really are committed to developing Canadian drama and comedy. All, save the CBC, really make their money by snapping up rights to U.S. programming. (Though the CBC isn't making much money doing anything right about now.) But lo, there have been signs of life, as of late. First came Trailer Park Boys. It shows on BBC America down in the USA, and it's so Canadian, it's almost...freaky. It's full of swearin' and dope smoking and stupidity. I saw the first episode and hated it. Two years later I watched three in a row and became completely obsessed with the show. I'm not the only one. Ivan Reitman signed on to Exec Produce a movie. Give'r. That show is made by Showcase, which is a Canadian specialty channel who does commission and develop interesting original stuff. (Showcase is owned by the aforementioned Alliance Atlantis: see how complicated it gets?) Anyway, after Showcase there came a little show called Corner Gas on the CTV Network. That show regularly pulls in 1.5 million viewers a week -- that's in a country of 30 million - so basically, if it was a U.S. sitcom, it'd be the equivalent of pulling in 30 million viewers. I think a U.S. Network would pretty much worship Baal to pull in 30 million for a sitcom right about now. Anyway, once Corner Gas took off, one of the biggest excuses that the networks had: "Canadians don't want to watch Canadian shows," kind of went away. And that broke the ice a bit.
All that is preamble to this. The difference between a meeting in L.A. and a meeting in T.O. is the attitude. In L.A., there's relentless positivity. After all, you might be the next hot thing! You may make someone a ton of money! What if it's not me?! Who do I have to kill to make sure it's me! You leave a meeting thinking that your penis is bigger, you weigh about 30 lbs less and you have the rugged good looks of the early Paul Newman.
In Toronto, often, the meeting is an excrutiatingly long dissertation of why you could never, ever do that. And what a problem it might be. And....BLAM!
I'm sorry, that was the sound of the flap of skin at the back of my head flying off with the force of the bullet.
That's why I'm pleased as plucky punch to say, that I have had meetings lately with people on a couple of projects that were just...great. Positive. People who are enthusiastic about material. Who want things to be good! Who want to make television that's full of quality just like me!Yayyy! Yayyyyy! In Canada! Could it be that this toy has some new, shiny batteries? My fingers are crossed.
And I never cross my fingers.
It's tough living next door to the cultural equivalent of Wal Mart. Then you have those gallic cutups next door in Quebec, with their comfy language barrier, making all manner of hoo-hah and fun with their own healthy star system and hit shows.
Americans, you owe yourself a trip to Montreal, just to see a star system and celeb machine right there, right under your nose, that you've never, ever heard of. It's like the days before soundscan when the music industry hadn't yet realized that hip hop was the biggest musical form in the USA, and people were still paying attention, oh, I don't know...to Tim McGraw's hat or something.
Anyway, in Toronto, in what we on the hustings call "English Canada," the path to television and to creativity is at best, fraught, and at worst, suicide-inducing.
The number of hour long dramas on Canadian TV has precipitously declined in the last few years, and it's been the subject of much hand-wringing among Can Culture types. When Alliance Atlantis, who were the biggest production company around, got completely out of production a few years back (deciding to make bones running specialty channels and cashing CSI checks) their CEO left this rose in the middle of the room:
"I think," he said, "That Canadian production has suffered a permanent downturn."
Wow. Thanks for playing, we thought. Enjoy all that Canadian taxpayer money you scooped up over the years. That reminded me (as most things do) of a trenchant Simpsons moment, where Marge asked Homer, "Did you have to salt the earth behind you?" Homer laughed and said,"Yes."
Bottom line: It's been pretty depressing up here for the last few years. Canadian Networks exist on a sliding scale as to how much they really are committed to developing Canadian drama and comedy. All, save the CBC, really make their money by snapping up rights to U.S. programming. (Though the CBC isn't making much money doing anything right about now.) But lo, there have been signs of life, as of late. First came Trailer Park Boys. It shows on BBC America down in the USA, and it's so Canadian, it's almost...freaky. It's full of swearin' and dope smoking and stupidity. I saw the first episode and hated it. Two years later I watched three in a row and became completely obsessed with the show. I'm not the only one. Ivan Reitman signed on to Exec Produce a movie. Give'r. That show is made by Showcase, which is a Canadian specialty channel who does commission and develop interesting original stuff. (Showcase is owned by the aforementioned Alliance Atlantis: see how complicated it gets?) Anyway, after Showcase there came a little show called Corner Gas on the CTV Network. That show regularly pulls in 1.5 million viewers a week -- that's in a country of 30 million - so basically, if it was a U.S. sitcom, it'd be the equivalent of pulling in 30 million viewers. I think a U.S. Network would pretty much worship Baal to pull in 30 million for a sitcom right about now. Anyway, once Corner Gas took off, one of the biggest excuses that the networks had: "Canadians don't want to watch Canadian shows," kind of went away. And that broke the ice a bit.
All that is preamble to this. The difference between a meeting in L.A. and a meeting in T.O. is the attitude. In L.A., there's relentless positivity. After all, you might be the next hot thing! You may make someone a ton of money! What if it's not me?! Who do I have to kill to make sure it's me! You leave a meeting thinking that your penis is bigger, you weigh about 30 lbs less and you have the rugged good looks of the early Paul Newman.
In Toronto, often, the meeting is an excrutiatingly long dissertation of why you could never, ever do that. And what a problem it might be. And....BLAM!
I'm sorry, that was the sound of the flap of skin at the back of my head flying off with the force of the bullet.
That's why I'm pleased as plucky punch to say, that I have had meetings lately with people on a couple of projects that were just...great. Positive. People who are enthusiastic about material. Who want things to be good! Who want to make television that's full of quality just like me!Yayyy! Yayyyyy! In Canada! Could it be that this toy has some new, shiny batteries? My fingers are crossed.
And I never cross my fingers.
Labels:
Canadian TV
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Thursday, July 2, 2009
First One Over The Top!
SMELL THAT? It's the sound of a brand new TV show having its first script reading. Today, the cast and crew of Republic of Doyle gather to hear the first two scripts read by actors.
It's a thrilling and relieving time for a writer. The theoretical finally becomes practical. You hear something on its feet, and the story department sits and hears the metre and the awkwardness and makes little tsk marks and tic marks and scribbles alt lines in the margins; and the writer who always hated this one thing takes their last, desperate gasp at trying to change people's minds. And hopefully the actors are complementary and enthusiastic, as they mostly are; and they give a good and solid effort to the read, which they mostly do. And afterward they come up with all these little questions which new writers may find annoying or strange but salty vets tend to find kind of fascinating because it reveals a craft that we appreciate more and understand less each and every day.
And if they're smart they know not to say "My character wouldn't say that." And so many of them are, indeed, smart.
And to hear laughter after months of silence and the sound of clacking keys is a tonic. And to see the pictures conjured in the air just by the virtue of speech is magic. And to look across the table at the person who fought so hard for that joke and see them beam when it lands; or argued so eloquently for a character turn that unfolds with a gasp; to see the silent slow clap of a colleague or the scowl of the perfectionist who still wants it to be better. The cats in the bag get let out to play, just once, with the beautiful people -- and the result is hopefully -- kismet.
It's cotillion time. It's a movable feast. It's drama up and on its feet, finally, finally.
And today in St. John's in a beautiful gallery, we'll hear characters come alive for the first time. I hope their voices ring through your living rooms for years to come.
After three days of rewrites on three scripts, I think it's time for someone to tell ME a story.
And so it goes.
Labels:
Canadian TV,
TV Craft,
writer's life
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Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Canada No Way Day
WELL, TORONTO, you don't get fireworks. You get stinky garbage.
Here in Newfoundland, the Republic of Doyle crew is working. We took a Holiday Monday. Or I have it on pretty good authority somebody did.
Today we're having our first production meeting, at 8am NT. How's that for early, bird?
Happy Canada Day to Y'all. Please feel free to leave any and all comments about how you're a proud Canadian that hates Canadian TV below.
More repeat posts follow. I'll write something new, I swear. Just as soon as I have a moment where I'm not redrafting, typing an email, sleeping or ... uh ... I don't know. The other stuff I do.
Reprint: "Mom, Dad, I Have Something To Tell You, I'm A Writer..."
THIS ONE'S REALLY OLD, but appropriate.
Originally published 11/04/2005
I don't teach for the money. (Thank Dog, because it's like, beer money at best.) But it's extremely useful, because it gives me a weekly window into what a bunch of 20 year olds think - and it also forces me to think about and try to articulate what I do. I've learned quite a bit about writers I thought I knew already by leading them through questions for this class.
Striking the right balance is often the hardest part. Because you don't want to misrepresent the writing life. But when you talk about the reality, it's easy to seem negative. Especially in Canada.
When I'm procrastinating, occasionally I'll troll the sites of aspiring screenwriters and wonder,"why, exactly, do you want to do this?"
It's a question that's so important. And I'm not sure it's one that's answered truthfully or honestly very often.
I've yet to meet someone who got into writing for the money who actually made a go of it. Yes, I know how much Shane Black made for selling Lethal Weapon. Yup, I know that spec sales throw dollar sign dreams into the eyes of any doe-eyed newcomer.
But the reality is that you may very well polish that screenplay for seven years. It may indeed be good. And it might sell. But how much work did it take? And if you really wanted to make money -- if that was the goal, then wouldn't some currency trader route be, I don't know --easier?
I've got a cousin who's a Very Big Deal in the financial world. He's damn good at his job. I met him for a drink at the Royal York Hotel when he was in town not so long ago, and we had a great old time. He's decent, a good guy, a very good businessman...he works seventy hours a week and oh... he's a millionaire.
I wouldn't trade places with him for the world.
The truth is, most writers I know that achieve some degree of success are doubters. They constantly doubt their material. It's wrenching to send a script out there. You never feel confident about it. At least most writers I know who are good don't.
(By the way, this is the root of why I think writers -- especially TV scribes, need to really stay away from fansites. Cause that stuff can F you up proper, g.)
I know others. I know people who really think that what they do is just...great. Every finished script will change the world. Every script is the greatest thing they've ever done.
And without fail, it's the doubters who get further ahead. I tested this theory in a convo with my agent last night. He agreed immediately. "When I get a script, if the person talks about how they're not totally happy with it, it's inevitably better than the person who says, "this is the best thing I've ever done."
My agent is cool. He has long hair and everything.
So doubt works. So does finishing. The main thing that separates people I know who actually make a living writing from those who don't is that the ones who do are finishers. And the way they finish is by focusing on small, realistic signpost goals, and chipping away.
The analogy I can think of is that there are a lot of people out there who think of a writing career like it's winning the World Series of Poker. In reality, it's more like being agrinder...playing one game at a time, for hours on end, just chipping, chipping, trying to get by.
There's a price to be paid for all this. You do spend a lot of time alone. You sometimes find yourself feeling disconnected even when you're out. You have to step back and observe more often than you participate. You actually have to indulge a level of self-involvement that most people would try to avoid. (Not as much as actors, but still.)
There's a lot about this life that's actually quite negative, on balance.
So why do it?
Well, here's the rub:
Because I can't imagine doing anything else.
I'm serious. I may call one of my writer friends and have a full on bitch session laced with bitterness, with a side of bitterness. We can beat each other up til we're whacking away on some great big bitterness pinata. And then one or the other will say, "well, at least we're living the dream."
It may be a peculiar Canadian trait, to define yourself negatively like this, but the writers I know and respect all have a somewhat fatalistic view of what they do. They don't do it for lofty reasons. They don't do it for fame or even for fortune. There are a lot of petty humiliations, snubs, and indignities to suffer along the way, but in the end you do it because, if you don't,then what the hell else are you going to do?
In many ways, I think you don't decide to be a writer. I think you come out as a writer. It's not what you do, it's who you are. I know that sounds glib. But in times that are dark, I have often taken comfort from the fact that I know I would never be happy doing anything else.
So maybe the first thing you should ask yourself if you're thinking of trying to be a writer (not write on the side, not be a waiter who's working on a screenplay, not an actor who's working on a novel, but a real, honest-to-goodness-this-is-how-I-make-my living writer writer) is this:
"Could I be happy doing anything else?"
If the answer's yes, you should strongly consider doing that thing.
If not, well, welcome. Maybe you're a writer after all.
"We're here. We fear. Get used to it!"
Labels:
writer's life
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Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Reprint: Take a Good Look at My Face(book)
THIS IS ANOTHER of my "whither, whither" posts. Still, you know, something.
Originally Published 02/03/09
THE TENDENCY FOR social media to explode exponentially is well-documented. MySpacegave way to Facebook and now it's Twitter that's having the adolescent growth spurt. I remember that I joined Facebook, about two years ago, in a flurry of media and TV/Film types rushing to do the same. It quickly became a different way to procrastinate and check in, and a generally harmless to enjoyable social tool.
But like the internet, it's also a place where an idea, or a 'meme' can spread pretty quickly. It all depends if it catches on or not.
For the longest time, I've seen a "25 Random Things About Me" meme bouncing about. A few people I knew attempted it, but it was just another clickable way to spend your Facebooktime.
Then a couple of my writer friends did it, and something sort of changed. By the time I did mine, on the weekend, the meme had reached its tipping point.
Now understand, this may only involve a dozen or fifteen people I know, tops. But it's interesting nonetheless because most of them are engaged in the creative fields. So there are intersecting mindsets and approaches.
What strikes me as most interesting is that, given a chance, most writer types will use their "25 Things" to try and articulate the bare bones of some sort of governing philosophy. Now that's something that you just don't generally do. Not in that way, I mean. Not unless you're given to writing manifestos. And let's face it, after the third or fourth one, the only person reading those is that guy working for the NSA. And sadly, he's just skimming for key words.
No, we writers are socialized and prompted to inject that kind of energy into our work. So to see it writ large is kind of like seeing the subtext become text. It's a little thrilling and a lot surprising. I feel like I've learned more about some of my good friends in the last forty-eight hours, than I have in the whole time I've known them.
Writers, most of us anyway, also always know they're writing for an audience. So decoding that layer is tricky, too. There are things that people (myself included) wrote in their lists that clearly reflects not a "world as I see it," but a "me as I'd like you to see me," agenda. There are things that are written from perspectives where you have a counter view, of events or even the basic facts -- but the last thing in the world to do is challenge those items. It would be like wading through someone's cerebellum and kicking the parts of the personality you don't agree with. Brr.
For some, this might seem silly and solipsistic. Just another cry for attention from a group of narcissists who demand too much already.
But there's something else going on in those lists. I've found the details of lives both profound and mundane. Plus beauty, inspiration, undeniable truth, and the unmistakable, comforting tendrils of the common humanity that connects us all.
That's the thing, I guess. You can try to post 25 random things about yourself. But that randomness shatters the moment someone recognizes themselves in you. And I can't help but think that our lives are made better by that.
But like the internet, it's also a place where an idea, or a 'meme' can spread pretty quickly. It all depends if it catches on or not.
For the longest time, I've seen a "25 Random Things About Me" meme bouncing about. A few people I knew attempted it, but it was just another clickable way to spend your Facebooktime.
Then a couple of my writer friends did it, and something sort of changed. By the time I did mine, on the weekend, the meme had reached its tipping point.
Now understand, this may only involve a dozen or fifteen people I know, tops. But it's interesting nonetheless because most of them are engaged in the creative fields. So there are intersecting mindsets and approaches.
What strikes me as most interesting is that, given a chance, most writer types will use their "25 Things" to try and articulate the bare bones of some sort of governing philosophy. Now that's something that you just don't generally do. Not in that way, I mean. Not unless you're given to writing manifestos. And let's face it, after the third or fourth one, the only person reading those is that guy working for the NSA. And sadly, he's just skimming for key words.
No, we writers are socialized and prompted to inject that kind of energy into our work. So to see it writ large is kind of like seeing the subtext become text. It's a little thrilling and a lot surprising. I feel like I've learned more about some of my good friends in the last forty-eight hours, than I have in the whole time I've known them.
Writers, most of us anyway, also always know they're writing for an audience. So decoding that layer is tricky, too. There are things that people (myself included) wrote in their lists that clearly reflects not a "world as I see it," but a "me as I'd like you to see me," agenda. There are things that are written from perspectives where you have a counter view, of events or even the basic facts -- but the last thing in the world to do is challenge those items. It would be like wading through someone's cerebellum and kicking the parts of the personality you don't agree with. Brr.
For some, this might seem silly and solipsistic. Just another cry for attention from a group of narcissists who demand too much already.
But there's something else going on in those lists. I've found the details of lives both profound and mundane. Plus beauty, inspiration, undeniable truth, and the unmistakable, comforting tendrils of the common humanity that connects us all.
That's the thing, I guess. You can try to post 25 random things about yourself. But that randomness shatters the moment someone recognizes themselves in you. And I can't help but think that our lives are made better by that.
If you'd like to comment on this post, please click through to the original post.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Reprint: Special Pleading and the World of Canuck TV
YOU KNOW, when it comes to Canadian TV in crisis, it really is the ongoing debate that never ends. I reprint this one because, sadly, it would be nice for people to gird themselves a bit for the next few weeks -- and prepare once more for the foolishness. As I write this intro, I'm coming from a WGC council meeting where we've heard about the regulatory climate over the next few months. The big issue is -- wait for it -- another CRTC hearing.
I know, I know, one wishes to die -- but this one is the big one. A broadcasting policy review. The first since 1999. This is the make or break one for creatives in the industry. A similar hearing in 1999 changed the rules on TV and killed Canadian drama series overnight. In fact, everything the Writers Guild said would happen at that 1999 hearing basically came true.
So if you're thinking about sitting on your hands, and you draw a paycheque from your creative labours, my advice to you is this: quit your special pleading. And suit up.
***
originally published 3/23/09
A presentation of an argument that emphasizes only a favorable or single aspect of the question at issue.
"Special Pleading" is often offered up as a way to try to deflect or change the subject, rather than rationally or coldly examine the issue at hand with logic and a full examination of the facts. As a tactic, it's as old as the hills. But there's something about our age that, far as I can tell, has lead to the spreading of Special Pleading like kudzu.
First, you remove the control rods. For all the faults of contemporary journalism, the way it's supposed to have gone for the last few decades is that you don't take sides. You try to maintain neutrality and present both sides.
That sort of fell by the wayside in the last few years, as the rise of talk radio, and the internet, too, made it OK to retreat into eddies and cul-de-sacs where only one view was ever expressed. When people talk about the death of civility in politics, I think a lot of the time what they're reacting to is the rise in the unchallenged tactic of special pleading.
Sometimes special pleading takes the form of trying to frame the argument in such a way that refutation is impossible, or meets such an impossible standard of proof that there's no way back.
"You're either with us, or you're with the terrorists," is an example of this kind of thinking. Now, simple logic should tell you that there's a whole lot of daylight between these two extremes, but when a top government official maintains that this statement is so, the premise of the argument is so extreme that, if enough people accept it, it becomes a powerful disincentive to explore or challenge the premise. Similarly, "if you don't support the war in Iraq, you are against the troops." This is classic special pleading. There is no burden of proof with which you could refute that argument to someone who believes it.
Part of the reason why "Special Pleading" arguments are so hard to crack, and people who believe them so hard to reach, is because of the built in walls that deliberately shut out any of the avenues of logical debate. If someone says, "You can't judge cops' behavior in the course of their duties unless you've been a cop, because you don't know what it's like," there's no way to counter that argument.
Of course, the problem with arguments that rely on Special Pleading is that their very insularity almost guarantee that there can be no fresh thinking or data, or news, or reality that permeate and change that thinking.
Now, as is my cant (and by dint, I would say, of the current historical moment) the examples I use above come mostly from the left or liberal side of the political spectrum. But I don't mean to suggest that arguments of special pleading are the exclusive province of the right. I find myself frustrated with people I agree with politically all the time, when I hear them utilizing arguments that amount to Special Pleading. If I can't immediately conjure up lefty arguments of special pleading, maybe it's because they fit so nicely into one of the political right's other fave argument tactics of the last few years, the "appeal to authority." But that's getting off on another horse...
The basic rule that's violated in argumentation by special pleading is this principle in philosophy: if you claim a distinction, there should be a relevant and substantive basis for making that distinction. It should be verifiable. When something is not verifiable, because "access to the truth" is claimed by one group, or you ignore any evidence that doesn't support your claim, the way forward is nearly impossible.
So, for instance, claiming that any criticism of Israel's actions in the Palestinian Territories or Gaza comes from a place of anti-semitism -- should be something that is verifiable. If you can't verify it, then besides being slanderous, it's a form of special pleading.
Special Pleading is ripe now for all sorts of reasons -- one of the big ones being the fact that the internet tends to flatten out facts and truth. At first glance, it may be difficult to tell whether someone's making sense, or is some sort of loon.
I think everybody in the Canadian broadcasting firmament should keep special pleading in mind this week. We're going to be entering a very interesting time.
We have a Conservative Heritage Minister, James Moore, who is very much of the opinion that the CBC should be forced to compete more, and should "live within its means." He doesn't think that it should compete with the Private Networks for advertising or for programming.
There's plenty of people who agree with him, both Inside the CBC and out. They will make all sorts of arguments that the CBC has lost its way, is now chasing ratings, betraying its foundations by not having a service that plays classical music, etc. This ignores the fact that a few short years ago the main argument used against CBC Television was that no one was watching. Now ratings are up, but it's still not good enough.
A full examination of the CBC 's mandate and what would need be done to rationalize it for the 21st century would probably be healthy. In fact, there's been plenty of those studies made in the past. Most of them have been ignored by governments of the day because they usually seem to suggest that the CBC is being asked to do too much with too little. No one wants to take on the politically difficult task of whittling down that mandate, and nobody wants to own up to funding it at a level where it can accomplish everything you're asking it to do.
When you see huge articles about the layoffs at CBC this week -- for they are coming -- I want you to ask yourself if you're hearing all sides of the argument, or if there's a bit of special pleading going on.
The other fascinating thing that's going on in the cultural sector is that the Private Networks, Global and CTV, are agitating heavily for relief from their obligations, blaming the economy and a broken business model. The Heritage Minister has indicated that he's amenable to these arguments. How will that relief come? Carriage fees? Direct investment? I have no idea. But when the news comes down, you owe it to yourself to see if you're getting the full picture of what is going on.
Canadians pay 34 dollars a year for the CBC. Free market types use a type of "special pleading" when they talk about how the CBC has all these advantages and doesn't "compete" like the private networks do. But what does that actually mean? After all, Kirstine Leyfield, the CBC Executive, unearthed a fairly interesting Nordcity study in an op ed she published in the National Post this weekend.
So the CBC competes with private broadcasters. But what is a private broadcaster in Canada anyway?
Nordicity, an independent firm specializing in broadcasting, valued the federal regulations that provide private broadcasters with the right to substitute U.S. content at between $270-million and $330-million. Other provincial and federal government subsidies such as tax credits and the Canadian Television Fund add another $165-million in cash support to the privates. Canada, in short, has a heavily subsidized media industry in which private companies compete for public money, and the CBC, in turn, competes for advertising dollars.
When viewed in that light, suddenly the framing of the argument changes. James Moore is talking about offering relief to the private broadcasters -- who already receive substantial public investment. By what token, then, can he entertain that notion, but slam shut the very same considerations for the CBC? Special Pleading.
Here's another case of Special Pleading at work, broadcasting style: and this one hits a bit closer to home. I've mentioned a few times lately that the level of flak I've gotten has risen. Along with the flak there's been plenty of contradictory statements made. I've been told by people that I can't stop blogging because too many people read what I read and nobody else says what I say. I've also been told by people that they could never do what I do. We've seen anonymous letters go around in the last week about the Canada Media Fund that are extremely alarmist, and based in no fact whatsoever. Yet producers won't speak up. ACTRA speaks up, God love'em, they always do, and not always wisely, but what I hear everywhere I go is that somehow what I do, nobody else could do because they have too much to lose.
This is the very essence of Special Pleading at work. Cause I'm going to tell you this right now: I aint special. I read about what's going on in the industry. I talk to people. I say things on this blog and sometimes I have to walk 'em back. I'm also, essentially, a self-employed freelancer. So you would think that if anybody had something to lose by sticking a head up and saying something about the industry, it's me.
And yet....my phone still rings. I'm getting jobs. I'm busy. I'm not a pariah.
Now, either that means I must be the most talented sonofabitch who ever lived and worked in Canada, or the whole idea that you can't speak up and add your voice to the debate in this industry is a bunch of bullshit. A copout. An appeal to special pleading.
I'm gonna pull the pin out here. I am not the most talented sonofabitch who ever lived and worked in Canada. In fact, I dare say that I've ate and drank and spent time with several people I think are way more talented than me in the last five days alone.
On Friday night, a group of writers gathered together, and one of the people in the group had a very heartfelt thing to say. He told me that it wasn't that he was scared to say something -- it was that he felt overwhelmed. He didn't know what it was possible for him to do.
Well, I think that's a fair proposition. It's so easy to feel helpless, and like you can't do anything. I know what that's like.
The next few weeks are going to be crucial for the direction of the industry. So what can you do, you yourself, without any power?
You can read the coverage. You can be that reality check and make sure that both sides of the argument are getting told. If they're not, you can write a letter to the editor. (#1 thing you can do.)
In your groups of friends and relatives, when you hear the cant about how the CBC should live within its means, and how the private broadcasters need relief -- you can speak up and ask people to examine their feelings about that. What do they really mean? What assumptions do they make? What do they get from the CBC? What do they get from the private networks? What does each cost them? What does each give back? Make sure all sides are represented and discussed. If the broadcasters are offered relief, what should they be required to give back? And do we accept their assurances that this is an unmitigated disaster at face value? Once you give up something, it's very difficult to get it back. Don't allow the arguments to descend to Special Pleading. You have a right to question whether these companies deserve relief. Broadcasting is a public trust. That's the way it's supposed to be, anyway. (#2 thing you can do.)
Pay attention to the Heritage Committee, who will be holding hearings on changes to the TV landscape in a few weeks. This is the process that got the odious provisions of Bill C10 stripped out last year. There is power in the process. Write a letter. Keep informed. Do not leave it to someone else to do. (#3 thing you can do.)
You can forge a relationship with your constituency office, and your MP. Sooner or later there is going to be an election. And culture will be just as unlikely an issue this time as it was last time. Introduce yourself as a constituent and a taxpayer. Get them thinking of you as a worker, as a taxpayer, and not as that boogeyman living high off the hog on the government dime, going to galas. (#4 thing you can do.)
If that little voice of yours has been silent for this time, up til now, then I'm afraid to tell you that you have now lost that luxury. The changes that are going down now are real, they are systemic, they are major, and they will decide whether you have a job within five years. All the special pleading you've done up to now to justify not raising your voice? It's over.
It really is now...or it's never. And then all that safety-silence will have bought you out of the industry, anyhoo. Welcome to the endgame, cutlets.
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Canadian TV,
CRTC
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