Theater is a Weapon
Another year-end video for the Antaeus Theatre Company, directed as always by Diani & Devine.
They've had a rough year.
Not a front for a secret organization.
Written by Rob Schultz (human).
Another year-end video for the Antaeus Theatre Company, directed as always by Diani & Devine.
They've had a rough year.
This is the last part in my series of articles about making a sellable pilot presentation. The one I made was called Talk Show the Game Show.
Earlier in the week, we talked about pitching, shooting, and cutting. Today I'll hand out a few things I've learned about what happens after. Next week, maybe we'll cover how to rebroadcast Cleveland Indians baseball games without the express written permission of Major League Baseball. I'm pretty sure it's easier, cheaper, and approximately as lucrative.
Guy Branum once told me that I did more to make the TV version of Talk Show the Game Show a reality than anyone, including his representation. Of course, people will say all kinds of flattering things about how valuable you and/or your friendship are to them when you're being left out of a business deal.
I've made this mistake before. I probably make it about once a year, in fact. Never on this scale though - usually it's for some kind of already cheap short film where the director/star/sound recordist/writer takes their low res sample copy and splits.
If you need to draw up a quick deal, I like the Shake app for iOS - you tap in some basic terms and both parties sign on the screen or via email. It's great for quick jobs and sometimes, like having a slate on set, it lends an air of realness to the proceedings that help a client to focus.
When problems do arise, an editor often has pretty good leverage. I have had to withhold projects, drives, or high-quality outputs until the paycheck comes through. Of course, in this case, I didn't do that because I thought this project was my project, and we all got paid when we sold a show. With a contract, everyone's intentions would have been made clearer.
Sometimes, when the other party still withholds payment and nobody ever gets what they want, I turn those projects around into other projects, like visual effects demos, or a series of educational essays.
A few years back, after assembling the first cut of a movie, the producers said that they were out of money and that they would take over from there because it would be cheaper not to have to pay me. That's pretty solid logic. It wasn't until the Xth phone call for Avid tech support that I had to remind the producer-turned-editor that since I don't work for him, I don't work for him.
I shot a second video with Guy and made plans for third. In my book, that almost made us friends!
Kidding again. I guess. I didn't really think we were going to be actual friends, but "business associates" seemed achievable. I admire Guy's drive to actually make things. It's not an entirely common quality even among people who nominally work in showbiz, and it's a stronger indicator for me of a possibly successful partnership than just being pals. I still believe in TSGS as a project, too, and I'm excited to see how it will be condensed for a 22-minute format.
You know what? A better tip here would have been on how to not get fired. Like "be indispensable" or something. Perhaps a lot of people could have made this show, it's just that they didn't. Until they did. TV, it seems, doesn't play by all of the same rules as modern art.
Man, I'm bad at this one too. I can divide almost everything I've worked on into one of two piles: projects I'm proud of and projects that paid me. I'm trying to find a bridge between the two, and I thought producing something myself might have been the answer. Maybe one day it will be!
I borrowed all of the equipment we shot this pilot on from a production company that I freelance for. I also asked them for a quote on the job. If someone wanted to hire that company to use the same equipment, provide the same amount of crew, with the same me running the show, their producer's "conservative" estimate is nearly $9000. Hell of a freebie.
No money changed hands on this production, just occasional handshakes and promises. The good news is, it's all tax-free!
I hope you have found each article of this series to be in some way genuinely helpful. Or funny. Or at least not too boring. Parts of this final entry, I'm sure, will come off like sour grapes, but I mean… Yeah. Of course.
Part 1: Finding your Show
Part 2: Shooting your Show
Part 3: Editing your Show
Part 4: Mistakes to Avoid
Rob Schultz is an editor, comedian, and really very helpful when it comes to making a thing. He's had a hand in bringing over 300 creative projects to life. Roughly 40 of them took place AFTER this pilot! If you'd like help making your project better, get in touch.
This week we're talking about how to make a pilot presentation that sells. Specifically, we're talking about how to make a pilot presentation of Talk Show the Game Show. If that's not the show that you're making, some of the details might turn out differently.
On Tuesday we talked project discovery, and yesterday was about the shoot, so today we're going to discuss post-production, and I'm going to mention a few things that will make projects better. Also, today's entry turned out a little bit shorter than yesterday, because I've been cutting each section to the bone, just like you should! With your video, I mean. You don't want it getting overly long. Especially if it's about how much better things would be if other people would be more economical and decisive in their editing. That would be terrible.
Every part of a production is about looking to the future. Pre-production is about preparing to shoot, which is about preparing for post, which is about preparing for viewers. You need to consider your audience, and how they would love to turn your video off and go do anything else.
That means that if there are boring parts, cut them out. Mistakes too. If someone does something that seems untoward or unprofessional (and it doesn't get a laugh), you can drop it. With a live show, you can get boxed in by people making reference to events that happened earlier - that's fine, you don't need to surgically restructure the whole show if you don't want to.
Lots of cuts can be made invisibly, with your viewing audience none the wiser. Too many cuts might be surreal. This project was supposed to seem live and casual, so I wasn't about to try to polish up every sentence, but we dropped 5-10 minutes from the events that happened on the day, because 'the way it really happened' doesn't matter. You only see the take where the toothpaste curls perfectly on the brush.
Editing is like doing magic - if you put in an unreasonable amount of work you can learn to do something so well that nobody notices you did anything. Do your best to move the viewer's attention where it belongs. With a live program, I like cutting to someone just after they begin speaking. It mimics how you might track a conversation in person, or how a show that's broadcast live might take an instant to follow the action. After you've established this conversational rhythm, you occasionally get a bonus laugh by breaking it and being right on top of a sharp joke.
Hey, use that coverage you picked up! Judge Casey rings the bell and awards points all throughout the show. Even though the judge cam didn't cover him, I still got a few shots of him awarding points when I knew someone said something that was going to score, and we reused the shot in the edit.
If, hypothetically, one of the cameras sometimes cuts during the show, particularly at the part where that camera's angle is most needed, you'll be glad you have some options.
Sketchy video quality makes videos seem authentic in the age of YouTube. Sketchy audio quality makes videos seem like they suck.
It's important that the performers voices are clear, and because we're making a commercial, it's important that the audience loves every single thing they say, To that end, here's what our sound track looks like:
You'll recall that we discussed keeping the audience visible to make it look like this show has to turn people away at the door. This is the audio equivalent. "Wow," you might say to yourself, "listen to those laughs! My boss will buy me a car if I greenlight this show!"
And greenlight it they did. Within about a week of the shoot, we sent out the edited, mixed, and colored video (today I wish I'd spent a little more time on all three of those, but obviously, the work done here was sufficient) and just one year later Guy was on a soundstage shooting a proper pilot. Join us for the exciting conclusion tomorrow, in which I will almost definitely wrap up with an ill-advised post on the business end of things.
Part 1: Finding your Show
Part 2: Shooting your Show
Part 3: Editing your Show
Part 4: Mistakes to Avoid
Rob Schultz is an editor, comedian, and really very helpful when it comes to making a thing. He's had a hand in bringing over 300 creative projects to life. If you'd like help creating your project, get in touch.
This week, we're talking about how to produce a TV pilot presentation that a production company or television channel would like to buy and turn into a series. Specifically, we're looking at the pilot for Talk Show the Game Show, which was just picked up by TruTV via Push It Productions.
Yesterday, we talked about finding the project. Today we're going to talk about shooting it, tomorrow we'll cover post-production, and Friday will be about the business of it all. And at each step, I'll pass along some advice on how to make a project like this one better.
After I found out that Talk Show the Game Show was about to happen, and Guy Branum found out that I wanted to record it, I had about 36 hours to put together a crew and equipment. One zoomed-out camcorder in the back of a room isn't going to sell anything, so I ginned up a 4-camera shoot. So I guess your first tip is:
Kidding. Sort of. I mean, it's a good trick if you can manage it. In my case, it was actually easier to put together a lot of gear on short notice than it was to get a lot of operators I trust to do good work at the last minute and on an uncertain budget, so here was my plan:
Notice also that in almost all of our shots, you can see audience heads. I wanted to be sure our viewers never forgot that this show plays to packed, sold-out audiences.
Almost all of the tips boil down to preparation, really.
Since you know what the smooth sailing version of your shoot looks like, you've got more brains left over for dealing with problems when they occur!
That was the shoot. From there, all we had to do was break down the gear, back up the media, return all the equipment, edit the show, do some light finishing work, get it into the hands of the right execs, and spend a year making the deals to turn it into a TV series on deep cable! We'll skip a couple of the boring steps and pick it up tomorrow with post-production.
Part 1: Finding your Show
Part 2: Shooting your Show
Part 3: Editing your Show
Part 4: Mistakes to Avoid
Rob Schultz is an editor, comedian, and really very helpful when it comes to making a thing. He's had a hand in bringing over 300 creative projects to life. If you'd like help creating your project, get in touch.
As I learned from this Deadline article the other day, a pilot presentation I produced last year was recently picked up by TruTV as a series for 2017. Exciting times! I can't tell you everything about how to make selling a show happen for you; it probably requires agents and managers and famous people and secret backroom deals that I don't know anything about. But I can tell you how to produce a pilot presentation that's good enough to get a production company to spend money on a studio pilot that's good enough to get TruTV to spend money on a season of your show.
Today I'm going to talk about finding a subject for your show, which is mostly how I got involved with making this pilot. Tomorrow we'll talk about shooting, Thursday it'll be post-production, and Friday will be business. The nuts and bolts stuff I'd probably like reading about will be on those middle days.
In college, I produced three seasons of a talk show about hockey. I don't particularly care about hockey, but I don't need to. The presenters know plenty, and they're the ones having the discussion. So they talk and I arrange cameras and lights and sound and graphics, and we meet in the middle on the gun battles and cliffhanger endings and other silly stuff that goes into me making a talk show.
Even though I like writing things, I already have experience building up the scaffolding of a video production around a core of an existing act.
I had seen Talk Show the Game Show on stage at least a dozen times, in various theaters, with various lineups of guests and judges and scorekeepers. Guy Branum and Casey Schreiner have refined their show over lots of performances, and they don't need me to tell them how to do it. The stage show was already honed and there was no reason it couldn't move to TV, at least in my opinion. Most importantly, for some crazy reason, nobody had already done this!
The tip here is the same thing a lot of indie filmmakers say: figure out what you've already got access to for free production value. In my case, this seemed like a perfect pitch: I didn't need to develop or meddle with the content of the show, which the performers would be happy about. I just needed to make a recording that shows someone('s assistant) in an office somewhere how much people like this thing, and how much everyone will like them if they put it on TV.
What I do is turn the crank on the video-making machinery.
Unfortunately, the next step is a little bit like Steve Martin's "First, get a million dollars." The legwork you need to do to get a project rolling is going to be different every time. Maybe you need to get writing, maybe you need to seek funding, or start casting rich housewives.
In 2015, I performed at the Bridgetown Comedy Festival. So did Guy Branum. Even though I had already run into Guy a bunch of times in Los Angeles, and he'd performed on shows that I produced or hosted, it seemed like a great chance to chat with him as a peer. (I have this idea that you meet people as either a fan or a peer, and it's difficult for everyone if they get too muddled.)
The festival rented out a video arcade to entertain the comics one afternoon, and we walked there together from the hotel. I re-introduced myself (the less-famous comedian may as well get used to introducing and re-introducing themselves without taking it personally. We all look the same.) and we talked careers for a mile. How do you get writing packets to submit to shows, what other festivals are worth doing, and oh, by the way, how come nobody has ever made a TV show out of your great stage show? Did you know I happen to have the resources to do a good job of that?
The number one thing I needed was for Guy to be interested. If it turned out he had a deal already or was happy with his other TV jobs and didn't want to adapt TSGS then the project would have been dead in the water for me.
It's okay to tell people what you're up to. Nobody is going to steal your idea. Most people don't have enough passion or drive to make their own ideas, and those that do are too busy. Besides all that, you don't know who can help you, and neither do they unless they know you need help. After Bridgetown in May, I went home to Los Angeles and Guy went to New York to write shows for Billy Eichner. My plan to shoot a Talk Show the Game Show performance was useless without anyone in town doing one.
By September, Guy Branum forgot all about our conversation. When he ran into my comedy show producing partner, Jason Van Glass, and invited him to a Talk Show the Game Show happening that week, Jason was able to connect those dots and remind Guy that there was someone who wanted to shoot his show.
Probably, what would have happened is I would have gone to see the show and tried to make plans to shoot the next one. And then our schedules wouldn't've lined up and we'd delay, and then one of us would be out of town and missed the next one, on and on. Instead, we cut right to the chase and I had 36 hours to put a shoot together. Find out how that went down tomorrow!
Rob Schultz is an editor, animator, comedian, sometimes even producer. I know, everyone is like, a six-part hyphenate these days, but in almost 20 years of video production I've racked up somewhere around 300 projects. If you'd like help making your thing better, let's talk.
Part 1: Finding your Show
Part 2: Shooting your Show
Part 3: Editing your Show
Part 4: Mistakes to Avoid