For the past three months I have been reviewing films for the Times and it has been quite an eye-opener. Before embarking on the job, I subscribed to the general view that cinema is not what it used to be. With the exception of a brief renaissance in the early 1970s, the art form has been in a state of decline since its heyday in the 1930s and 1940s. But I had no idea just how bad things had become.

Take The Spell, for instance. This low-budget British horror film, released a couple of weeks ago, was so bad that the critics started pouring out of the preview theatre within the first five minutes. By the end, there were only three people left. It was so amateurishly made, it was as if a group of delinquent teenagers had been given a camcorder and told to remake The Exorcist within the next 24 hours. Actually, that makes it sound more interesting than it was. I emerged from the screening room with smoke billowing from my ears and spent the rest of the day organising a petition to send to the Society of Film Distributors demanding that they change the rules regarding which movies are eligible for review.

The Spell was far from exceptional. The national film critics are forced to endure this form of torture all the time. If you’ve ever come out of a movie wondering why it got so many good reviews, the answer is because we’re comparing it to the other films we’ve seen that week. Next to The Spell, the latest Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy seems like a work of staggering genius.

I used to do the same job for the Guardian in 1992 and that now seems like a golden age. I remember being shocked by how poor My Cousin Vinny was — something that seems scarcely credible today. If I had to review it again next week, I’d give it four stars.

The problem is that the number of movies released each week has increased exponentially — and an increase in quantity has not meant an increase in quality. In the month of September, 40 films came out, at least half of which were along similar lines to The Spell. The reason for this glut is because the cost of making movies has fallen dramatically in the past 15 years. Advances in digital video technology — and the reduced cost of converting films shot on video to 35mm as well as the emergence of cinemas able to show movies shot on digital video — means that films made for under £10,000 can now be screened.

They don’t even need distributors. There are several cinemas in central London, such as the Apollo in Piccadilly, that will show your film for a relatively modest sum. Provided it’s in a cinema for one week, even if it’s being released on DVD directly afterwards, the critics are obliged to treat it as a ‘national release’. It’s the equivalent of self-publishing a novel and then seeing it reviewed in the book pages of every national newspaper.

About 15 years ago, people in the arts welcomed the array of technological advances that made it easier for amateurs to participate in fields like filmmaking. The politically correct line was that it would expose a whole new layer of creative talent. We were witnessing the dawn of a new era in the arts that would rival the Renaissance.

Today, such optimism seems wildly misplaced. How many filmmakers have taken advantage of this new technology to pose a challenge to the likes of Martin Scorsese, Bernardo Bertolucci and Steven Spielberg? The answer is zero. The only effect it has had is to encourage people who have had no formal training — who’ve never been to film school — to imagine that they’re proper movie directors. It’s the filmmaking equivalent of the sentimental message at the heart of Ratatouille: anyone can cook. As someone who’s spent the past seven years working as a restaurant critic, I can confirm that that is a big fat lie. Not everyone can cook and not everyone can direct a film — particularly those who haven’t even bothered to study the craft.

Reducing the cost of making movies and hoping a new generation of young filmmakers will emerge from the ether is the equivalent of lowering the cost of violins and expecting an army of Yehudi Menuhins to spring up out of nowhere. The sooner the barriers go up again, the better.

Article by Toby Young (Spectator – November 12, 2009)

Gary’s Thoughts….

Life is all about context and reading between the lines.

On the face of it, Toby Young’s article suggests an ever-increasing glut of independent films ranging from unworthy to simply unwatchable. His thesis could easily be interpreted as the decline of Western Civilized Filmmaking, all thanks to the economic and technological democratization of the tools that bring filmmaking within the reach of the many who previously were not invited to dine at the film roundtable.

My view is a bit different and I read this article with a sense of excitement for the massive opportunity put squarely in front of us. Yes, I’m an optimist, but a rather pragmatic optimist. The subtext of this article defines my very philosophy and approach to the business of filmmaking.

The contraction, if not the death, of the independent film business as we’d come to know it over the past two decades merely signals renaissance and unbounded opportunity for those who are prepared.

Yes, literally dozens of films every month are making their way onto the big screen – films that would never have seen the inside of a theatre in years past. That they’re not very good is just an interesting aside. Access and opportunity is the noteworthy headline. And this trend will only continue and grow and expand.

So what’s the problem ? Too few filmmakers take the art and business of film seriously enough to prepare, to bullet-test their wares, to insure quality craft and storytelling. For the few who do, they’ve an opportunity like never before to stand out like a shiny penny.

But it’s the old story: 95% or more don’t take the time or exercise the discipline to succeed, and 5% or fewer will. Most fling themselves headlong, brimming with unfounded confidence and having fallen too in love with their project, without stopping to test their work – at every step.

Every film I’ve developed or produced involved countless rewrites and revisions and polishes, embracing the best of notes from a stready stream of trusted peers, masterminds, script consultants, other producers and writers.

Every screenplay was put to the test of a minimum of one table read, with full participation of audience and actors to give critique in a post-read focus group.

Every film was test screened multiple times, only to rush back to the editing room to incorporate the best of what we’d learned from yet more focus group responses.

The same scrutiny is applied to every day’s dailies, to casting auditions, to marketing materials and ad campaign. From dozens of rewrites to craft the perfect logline to countless edits to achieve the best possible version of the film – and at every step in between – being open-minded, flexible, questioning and discerning – discounting sleep for weeks and months on end – to insure every detail has been considered, addressed, tweaked, refined… that’s filmmaking, that’s storytelling.

Being deeply collaborative is not optional for filmmakers who want the best. It’s not a matter of budget or resources. Testing and re-working needs be an hourly preoccupation, no different than the old saying “rewriting is writing”, and it applies to absolutely every facet of the process.

The good news is we have choice. We can choose not to film til we’ve done absolutely everything possible to create the best screenplay, assemble the best crew, attend to the smallest details, cast the best available actors, care deeply and pay attention to every single detail and moment as if it’s your first born child.

The technology is there to support us, access to the marketplace and audiences is growing like never in our history, and all we have to do is be brilliant, committed and willing to do whatever it takes to stand out from the sea of mediocrity and complacency. Be the filmmaker who’s the exception. Be the one whose film is held aloft as the fresh voice that breathes new hope into the ‘indie’ experience.

For the past three months I have been reviewing films for the Times and it has been quite an eye-opener. Before embarking on the job, I subscribed to the general view that cinema is not what it used to be. With the exception of a brief renaissance in the early 1970s, the art form has been in a state of decline since its heyday in the 1930s and 1940s. But I had no idea just how bad things had become.

Take The Spell, for instance. This low-budget British horror film, released a couple of weeks ago, was so bad that the critics started pouring out of the preview theatre within the first five minutes. By the end, there were only three people left. It was so amateurishly made, it was as if a group of delinquent teenagers had been given a camcorder and told to remake The Exorcist within the next 24 hours. Actually, that makes it sound more interesting than it was. I emerged from the screening room with smoke billowing from my ears and spent the rest of the day organising a petition to send to the Society of Film Distributors demanding that they change the rules regarding which movies are eligible for review.

The Spell was far from exceptional. The national film critics are forced to endure this form of torture all the time. If you’ve ever come out of a movie wondering why it got so many good reviews, the answer is because we’re comparing it to the other films we’ve seen that week. Next to The Spell, the latest Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy seems like a work of staggering genius.

I used to do the same job for the Guardian in 1992 and that now seems like a golden age. I remember being shocked by how poor My Cousin Vinny was — something that seems scarcely credible today. If I had to review it again next week, I’d give it four stars.

The problem is that the number of movies released each week has increased exponentially — and an increase in quantity has not meant an increase in quality. In the month of September, 40 films came out, at least half of which were along similar lines to The Spell. The reason for this glut is because the cost of making movies has fallen dramatically in the past 15 years. Advances in digital video technology — and the reduced cost of converting films shot on video to 35mm as well as the emergence of cinemas able to show movies shot on digital video — means that films made for under £10,000 can now be screened.

They don’t even need distributors. There are several cinemas in central London, such as the Apollo in Piccadilly, that will show your film for a relatively modest sum. Provided it’s in a cinema for one week, even if it’s being released on DVD directly afterwards, the critics are obliged to treat it as a ‘national release’. It’s the equivalent of self-publishing a novel and then seeing it reviewed in the book pages of every national newspaper.

About 15 years ago, people in the arts welcomed the array of technological advances that made it easier for amateurs to participate in fields like filmmaking. The politically correct line was that it would expose a whole new layer of creative talent. We were witnessing the dawn of a new era in the arts that would rival the Renaissance.

Today, such optimism seems wildly misplaced. How many filmmakers have taken advantage of this new technology to pose a challenge to the likes of Martin Scorsese, Bernardo Bertolucci and Steven Spielberg? The answer is zero. The only effect it has had is to encourage people who have had no formal training — who’ve never been to film school — to imagine that they’re proper movie directors. It’s the filmmaking equivalent of the sentimental message at the heart of Ratatouille: anyone can cook. As someone who’s spent the past seven years working as a restaurant critic, I can confirm that that is a big fat lie. Not everyone can cook and not everyone can direct a film — particularly those who haven’t even bothered to study the craft.

Reducing the cost of making movies and hoping a new generation of young filmmakers will emerge from the ether is the equivalent of lowering the cost of violins and expecting an army of Yehudi Menuhins to spring up out of nowhere. The sooner the barriers go up again, the better.

Article by Toby Young (Spectator – November 12, 2009)

Gary’s Thoughts….

Life is all about context and reading between the lines.

On the face of it, Toby Young’s article suggests an ever-increasing glut of independent films ranging from unworthy to simply unwatchable. His thesis could easily be interpreted as the decline of Western Civilized Filmmaking, all thanks to the economic and technological democratization of the tools that bring filmmaking within the reach of the many who previously were not invited to dine at the film roundtable.

My view is a bit different and I read this article with a sense of excitement for the massive opportunity put squarely in front of us. Yes, I’m an optimist, but a rather pragmatic optimist. The subtext of this article defines my very philosophy and approach to the business of filmmaking.

The contraction, if not the death, of the independent film business as we’d come to know it over the past two decades merely signals renaissance and unbounded opportunity for those who are prepared.

Yes, literally dozens of films every month are making their way onto the big screen – films that would never have seen the inside of a theatre in years past. That they’re not very good is just an interesting aside. Access and opportunity is the noteworthy headline. And this trend will only continue and grow and expand.

So what’s the problem ? Too few filmmakers take the art and business of film seriously enough to prepare, to bullet-test their wares, to insure quality craft and storytelling. For the few who do, they’ve an opportunity like never before to stand out like a shiny penny.

But it’s the old story: 95% or more don’t take the time or exercise the discipline to succeed, and 5% or fewer will. Most fling themselves headlong, brimming with unfounded confidence and having fallen too in love with their project, without stopping to test their work – at every step.

Every film I’ve developed or produced involved countless rewrites and revisions and polishes, embracing the best of notes from a stready stream of trusted peers, masterminds, script consultants, other producers and writers.

Every screenplay was put to the test of a minimum of one table read, with full participation of audience and actors to give critique in a post-read focus group.

Every film was test screened multiple times, only to rush back to the editing room to incorporate the best of what we’d learned from yet more focus group responses.

The same scrutiny is applied to every day’s dailies, to casting auditions, to marketing materials and ad campaign. From dozens of rewrites to craft the perfect logline to countless edits to achieve the best possible version of the film – and at every step in between – being open-minded, flexible, questioning and discerning – discounting sleep for weeks and months on end – to insure every detail has been considered, addressed, tweaked, refined… that’s filmmaking, that’s storytelling.

Being deeply collaborative is not optional for filmmakers who want the best. It’s not a matter of budget or resources. Testing and re-working needs be an hourly preoccupation, no different than the old saying “rewriting is writing”, and it applies to absolutely every facet of the process.

The good news is we have choice. We can choose not to film til we’ve done absolutely everything possible to create the best screenplay, assemble the best crew, attend to the smallest details, cast the best available actors, care deeply and pay attention to every single detail and moment as if it’s your first born child.

The technology is there to support us, access to the marketplace and audiences is growing like never in our history, and all we have to do is be brilliant, committed and willing to do whatever it takes to stand out from the sea of mediocrity and complacency. Be the filmmaker who’s the exception. Be the one whose film is held aloft as the fresh voice that breathes new hope into the ‘indie’ experience.

Los Angeles, California
By Invitation Only

Los Angeles, California

The event to celebrate 100th Anniversary of Think & Grow Rich

Celebration of Napoleon Hill and Launch of the new book, Think and Grow Rich – Three Feet From Gold by Sharon L. Lechter and Greg S. Reid in cooperation with the Napoleon Hill Foundation. Click here to know more!

Loews Santa Monica Beach Hotel
Santa Monica, California

The global film industry will converge in Santa Monica for one reason: the American Film Market is Where Business Gets Done!

Whether you are a film buyer or industry professional, plan now to join 8,000 AFM attendees from around the world for eight days unlike any other.

Click here to know more.

Park City, Utah

Each year the Sundance Film Festival selects 200 films for exhibition from more than 9,000 submissions. More than 50,000 people attend screenings in Park City, Salt Lake City, Ogden, and Sundance, Utah. In addition to discovering filmmaking’s newest talent through the Festival’s program of documentary, dramatic, and short films, Festivalgoers experience live music performances, panel discussions with leading filmmakers and industry figures, cutting-edge media installations, parties celebrating the Festival community, and more.

Check back in December 2009 for the Online Film Guide with descriptions and schedules of the 2010 program.

Click here for more details.

The rags-to-riches story of John Paul deJoria personifies the American Dream. Spending much of his youth in a street gang in East Los Angeles, John Paul deJoria was repeatedly admonished by his high school math teacher that he would “never, ever succeed at anything in life.” After a couple of years in the Navy, deJoria aimlessly floated through a series of jobs, from janitor, to pumping gas, to bicycle repair, to selling encyclopedias, insurance and copier machines. Still in his twenties and too proud to ask for help, deJoria found himself homeless, sleeping in his car. Eventually he landed a job for $650 a week with Redken Laboratories, the leading professional hair salon product company. When he was fired by Redken, deJoria approached his friend Paul Mitchell, a leading hair designer and, with $750 of borrowed funds, they partnered in a new hair styling product enterprise. The ‘enterprise’ consisted of a post office box and phone answering machine. Visiting salons door-to-door, they offered to do free demonstrations – a sales strategy never before used in the business. They even offered a full money-back guarantee if a salon did not sell 100% of all their products. Despite their boldy innovative approach, the majority of doors were slammed in their faces. That was then. Today, the company’s annual revenues top $1 billion. Although unable to afford color packaging when starting out, their products bear their black and white brand to this day – a reminder of their humble beginnings.

Fran Harris proudly wears a ring. Playing for the Houston Comets the very first season the WNBA was formed, Fran’s talent as a professional athlete was the stuff of legend. Yet, it’s the personal side of her journey that makes Fran a true champion. Growing up in a modest section of Dallas, Texas, Fran’s mother died when Fran was in her teens and, while two of her brothers went to jail, one of them also suffered a serious issue with drugs. Not having a formidable success model in her world, Fran was nonetheless determined not to be a teenage mother or fall prey to drugs, but to make a better life for herself. Fran began playing NCAA basketball while at the University of Texas at Austin. Later, amidst the politics of the sports world, Fran was cut from the U.S. Olympic Women’s basketball team, and swore she’d never play basketball again. With degrees in journalism, she went on to get her Ph.D. in business adminstration and become a successful young entrepreneur. Then the WNBA was announced. It was 1997 and Fran hadn’t played basketball in over eight years. But her dream was rekindled. She decided on the spot she had to play in the first-ever season of this new professional league. Fran announced to friends inside and outside the sports world that she was going to try out. Every last person gave her reasons not to do it. She was too old, she hadn’t played in too many years, she was out of shape, she shouldn’t risk the business success she’d worked so hard to achieve, she was 30 years old ! Despite the odds – there were only two spots available on the Houston Comets team – Fran didn’t listen. She began training daily and changed everything – the way she ate, the way she walked, the way she spoke – all in pursuit of her single-minded goal. When she entered the gym for final tryouts, Fran faced 250 younger women athletes all vying for the very same two spots. Fran was chosen to play for the Houston Comets, and the team went on to win the first seaon’s championship. Fran wears that ring to this day as a reminder that no force should keep a person from the life they deserve.

John Grisham is one of the world’s best-selling authors, with over 250 million books in print in dozens of languages, and whose books have given us some of the greatest films of our time. Before turning to writing, Grisham was devoted to the idea of being a baseball player. That dream was dashed when he was cut from his college baseball team. Grisham went on to become a lawyer, practicing in a small town firm for a decade. In 1984, having witnessed the harrowing testimony of a 12-year old rape victim, Grisham began writing his first novel. What if the girl’s father had murdered her assailants ? Three years later, he completed a manuscript entitled “A Time to Kill”. The rejections came fast and often, and for a long while thereafter. Publishers and publishing agents seemed unanimous in their response. It was only persistence that finally found Grisham’s manuscript picked up by a small press that printed a limited number of copies of his book. Throughout, Grisham never waivered and busily went to work authoring his second novel, ‘The Firm’, which went on to become the seventh bestselling novel of 1991. Grisham’s novels connected with audiences worldwide, and films spawned by many of his works, including ‘The Client’, ‘The Pelican Brief’ and ‘The Runaway Jury’ went on to enjoy stunning commercial success.

Have you ever suffered a defeat or fallen short of a goal ? When faced with great difficulty or repeat rejection in the past, has your habit been to abandon your vision ? Did you somewhere deep inside feel you cheated yourself or that if you’d only dug a bit deeper or tried a slightly different approach, you might have met with success ?

Either you determine what constitutes the difference between a success in the making and a failure, or you allow others to make that judgement for you. Either you persist and adopt strategies with unflagging determination to realize your result, or you give way to your doubts, fears and perceptions of what others might think.

One of the greatest architects of all time, Frank Lloyd Wright, said “I know the price of success: dedication, hard work, and an unremitting devotion to the things you want to see happen.” Yet as Seth Godin wrote: “Persistence isn’t using the same tactics over and over. Persistence is having the same goal over and over.”

You may well have heard the tale of Susan Boyle, a middle-aged woman of unremarkable appearance from a modest hamlet in Britain. In 1995, Susan auditioned as a singer on a ‘Star Search’-like British tv show (‘My Kind of People’), only to be shamelessly mocked and insulted. When Susan recently auditioned and was selected to appear – 14 years later – on ‘Britain’s Got Talent’, she defied expectation and literally moved the audience and judges to tears with an exhilirating rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables. People all over the world are wearing t-shirts of Susan, Larry King interviewed her, Hollywood wants to make a film with her, Oprah has invited her as a guest on her tv show, and Elaine Page, Susan’s hero, wants to perform a duet with her.

J.K. Rowling, reknowned for her magical ‘Harry Potter’ series of books, has become one of the world’s most celebrated authors, reportedly having become a billionaire from her magical writings. Her books enjoy immense popularity around the globe, critical acclaim and commercial success, having sold over 400 million books and translated into 67 languages. The last four of J.K.’s series about Harry’s struggle against an evil wizard have consecutively set records as the fastest-selling books in history. ‘Harry Potter’ has spawned an industry, including movies, videogames and themed merchandise, all borne from the creative mind of one woman. Yet, J.K. Rowling’s private journey was anything but simple. Her mother died from multiple sclerosis, J.K. was subsequently diagnosed with clinical depression and contemplated suicide, all the while a single parent surviving on welfare while working on her first novel.

Chris Gardner’s story of trial and disappointment is well-chronicled in the film “Pursuit of Happiness”. Frustrated in his quest to become a stock broker, Chris’ circumstance went from bad to worse during a 10-month interview process with a San Francisco-based firm. His girlfriend ran off with their only son and all Chris’ belongings. Soon thereafter, Chris found himself penniless, and jailed for ten days for unpaid parking fines, only to be released the day before his final interview. Chris showed up for this crucial meeting in dirty jeans and a t-shirt, openly admitting the truth of having lost his son, being broke and released from jail one day earlier, and without a home. To his amazement, the interviewer was sympathetic, having endured a painful divorce, and immediately put Chris in the company’s training program. His son was soon returned to him, and together they survived on the streets, later finding the means to live in a $10-a-night motel. Years later, having passed his broker’s exam and working for a major brokerage house, Chris struck out on his own, securing major clients and never looking back.

What compels some people to quit in the face of adversity and rejection, while others pursue their dream with a single-minded sense of purpose? Why is quitting not an option for some? What force of will fuels people to rise above bad circumstances or a string of initial failures?

Anatole France reminds us ‘to accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe’. Confucius’ wisdom held “our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.”

Why most give up after a few rejections is not so much a mystery, as a magnficent tragedy. Lack of belief in oneself is the stuff of emptiness, frustration, dashed dreams, plowed-under human capacity, negative self-image and sadness, whereas persistence and hard work fueled by belief in oneself yields the miracle of joy and contribution, success and meaning. Is it possible to accomplish your true purpose, live a joyous and richly rewarding life, and enjoy a persistence borne of a balance between head and heart when you’re busy beating up on yourself for a momentary ‘failure’? Can you imagine what you might accomplish if you held fast to an unshakeable belief in yourself?

Waking each morning, we are given a choice and it is ours to choose wisely. Do you choose to listen to and consume the fear and skepticism so prevalent in the marketplace of humanity, surrounding yourself with those who encourage anxiety, negativity and limitation, or do you choose to believe deeply in yourself and thoughtfully embrace – both personally and professionally – those who align with your values and life vision?

One choice results in the ultimate injustice of not bringing forth our best and our greatest gifts to be shared, the other choice yields rewards beyond our limited imagination.