Over a decade ago, among many valuable pieces of wisdom, screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Adaptation) questioned: “What is it that allows us the creative freedom in our dreams that we don’t have in our waking lives… I don’t know, but I suspect part of it is that in our dreams we aren’t constricted by worry about how we will appear to others.”
Twelve years later, in a viral speech at the Writers Guild of America (WGA), he approached that same question in a different way. This time, with a fiery anger that was directed towards the producers and executives sitting in the very same room as him. “We [writers] are trained to believe what we do is secondary to what they do. We are trained to do the bidding of people who are motivated, not by curiosity, but by protecting their jobs… [our work] is not to please them, or critics, or even the audiences who have also been trained. Our work is to reflect the world, say what is true, in the face of so much lying.”
Once again, I was moved by his choice of words on such a grand stage. Yet, I was also intrigued by the fact that his concerns really haven’t changed. What has changed however, is who he feels is at fault. While at the BAFTAs, he was concerned about his own mental struggle to overcome the perception of others, it seems as if now, he has realized that fear to be valid. He has realized that in your dreams, the producers, the executives, and the etceteras aren’t there to abuse and suffocate your passion at every turn. His answer: don’t work for them, work for the world.
The speech was applauded by some, but heavily criticized by writers affiliated with the WGA, who happen to be in the middle of preparing a potential strike. Many agreed with his sentiment that “they” can’t do anything without “us”, but also pointed out the reverse to be true.
What Kaufman failed to acknowledge is the reality of writers, both established and not, failing to pay their bills. Not everyone has the luxury of going on strike, or to even “stay true to their voice.” However, this issue like many in America is a systemic one. It isn’t just the producers – We aren’t seeing this in Europe, in South Korea, or in India: all places with large, thriving film industries. So, what aspects of American culture and politics are specifically at play here? Before his death, writer David Foster Wallace began to sound the alarm:
“I think [American] TV promulgates the idea that good art is just art which makes people like and depend on the vehicle that brings them the art.”
The United States has a specific culture of excess and hedonism that makes just about every other aspect of TV and film that isn’t writing, far more important than it probably should be. Celebrity, virality, and hype-trains unfortunately have little to do with the three-act structure.
For example, one of the main concerns of writers demanding change from the WGA has been that they do a better job of fighting “double breasted companies.” This is when a Producer, who is a signatory of the guild, circumvents the minimum agreements made with their writers by working through a separate, secret entity that doesn’t operate under WGA guidelines. So, even if every writer in the guild decides to strike, they could hypothetically always find someone with just enough talent to undercut unionized workers and get the job done.
This model has been so lucrative for producers and executives because, like Kaufman recognized, audiences that have been trained to consume media unconsciously are paying less and less attention to writing anyways.
Another writer, David Mamet, once comically used Pop-Tarts as a metaphor for the homogenization of contemporary media. He argued that just as Pop-Tarts are mass-produced, artificially flavored, and marketed to the lowest common denominator, movies have achieved the same quality through their attempt to appeal to the widest possible audience.
This is why they don’t need to pay talented writers and they haven’t been doing so since the days of bidding wars. Producers can now rely on spectacle and big names; it’s only a matter of time before AI can produce a hundred scripts that are of equally terrible quality but done in a fraction of the time and at less of a cost. However, although these metaphorical Pop-Tart manufacturers might be easy to imagine as a bunch of big, scary, ill-intentioned executives in suits; also complicit in this system are the so-called “screenwriters” who write solely with the goal of eventually labeling themselves a director or a producer. I point this out not to sound cynical, but because it is to me, an undeniable trend that is contributing to the same decline in respect for writers and writing. Not just from above-the-line industry members, but from audiences as a whole. Maybe, this is a product of the vehicle that David Foster Wallace referred to; like the Pop-Tart manufacturers, these writers care less about their impact on the world and more about the achievement of simply getting a Pop-Tart into someone’s hands, regardless of how. This growing population of filmmakers who see nothing in such a potentially beautiful industry, other than for themselves to one day lead others and call themselves some sort of boss, is quite frankly, poisoning everything.
This is how we get cases like Avatar, which is predicated on the idea that no matter how mediocre writing is, as long as people are excited for an event and good special effects, a two-hundred and fifty-million-dollar budget is justified because it will make its money back. The sad part of course being that James Cameron’s prediction was accurate because the money was in fact made back. The product: extremely formulaic, arguably problematic, and undeniably action-reliant movies. As Armond White pointed out in The National Review, “[the film provides] an escapist mindset that prevents moviegoers from thinking (or expressing dissatisfaction). When a film like this is sold for its 3D, 48-frames-per-second High Dynamic Range technology, protect your credit card… [it in fact] limits our imagination, forcing ticket-buyers to wear 3D glasses, to look but not to see.”
Marvel operates in a similar fashion, undervaluing even the VFX artists that they also rely on. This is, however, what makes Kaufman’s grievances so confusing. If he acknowledges that people other than producers are a part of this larger issue, what does he expect? It surely can’t be for writers who care deeply about their work to try to distribute projects on their own in this environment – well, another piece of advice he gave was, “don’t pitch” – so, maybe. Therefore, while I agree with his very heartfelt, and clearly well-intended sentiment, I disagree with his conclusion. There are viable steps to take in order to lead the film industry, both independent and non-independent, in a new direction.
– Help spread awareness about the WGA’s pattern of demands in response to their expiring contract with the AMPTP on May 1st.
– Promote art subsidies that help diversify and expand our film industry.
– Support policies that prevent the usage of double-breasted companies.
If another writers strike were to occur, it is severely important that those who are established in the industry refuse to cross the picket fence and put their pens down. The quality of the media we are overfed every day will continue to decline if we do nothing to help those who dedicate their lives to the craft of writing. Writers are more than expensive utilities who put words to paper. They are a large part of our culture, our collective consciousness, and our ability to see the world more clearly.
