European Film Festival Award for Best Spiritual Documentary 2011
When I began my freelance career in NYC in 1987 I was also getting a pretty good ROI. The investment at that time was hours spent on the phone, scouring pre-internet job boards and magazine listings, and networking, all trying to secure the ROI of paid work. (The amount of pay was another matter. I considered myself lucky to land a job as an AD or AP for $300/week.)
One of those “lucky” jobs was working pre-production on TOXIC AVENGER II for Troma Pictures. Maybe you’ve heard of Troma. Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz (no longer there) used to fashion themselves as Roger Corman-like rogues, bucking the Hollywood system. If only they were as remotely creative and interesting. The truth is they were bottom feeders. They fed off the huge pool of talent in NYC desperate to get into the film business. Actors, writers, production crew – many of these people got paid little or nothing. I know because I hired and fired them. I was a rare pre-production employee who was actually paid.
Our film production office was a rat and cockroach infested 3rd floor walkup off Times Square. Back in the day when the area was a dump. There wasn’t much furniture. What there was we scrounged off streets and dumpsters. Most people sat on the dirty floor. Securing perfect locations for shoots was much less important than those locations being cheap or free. Same with actors. Casting sessions began with “Will you work for free?” Talent was secondary. Though the job was very high stress and I was working 10-12 hour days, seven days a week (I liked Sundays because getting in from Brooklyn by 8:00 am was so much easier), I accepted it all thinking “this is what they mean by paying dues.” What finally got to me though was the abuse. Lloyd and Michael were notoriously abusive – they’d scream and yell at employees all the time. Nothing was ever good enough for them. That really shouldn’t have been surprising since many people working for them truly didn’t know much. Those employees meant well, they tried hard, but not only did they have no experience some were just stupid. No surprise there either given that they were complicit in being outrageously exploited.
After a month of this I quit. I’d like to say it happened right after I went off on one of my crew – I yelled at him – and another crew member rightly pointed out to me I was turning into “a little Lloyd.” But no. It took another reaming session from the masters themselves before I finally said “enough.” “If this is what it takes to get ahead in the film business I’d rather wash dishes.” I was very clear about it and felt really good about it. Though it did take weeks for the residual fears to finally wear off that they’d come after me for revenge.
Around the same time, I also took unpaid jobs in the hope they would lead to paid work. One of these was doing sound with a DP friend for a producer developing a Boris Grebenshikov documentary. This was in the first heady days after the collapse of the Iron Curtain. Boris was a rock star, sort of the Russian John Lennon, on his first trip to the U.S. The feature documentary was eventually directed by Michael Apted called LONG WAY HOME. On this job working for nothing seemed like a smart investment. The producer was reputable and solicitous. He worked regularly with MTV and hoped to eventually pay us something once the whole film was funded. (We might actually have received some cash later; I can’t remember now.)
Regardless of whether I eventually received cash or not, I considered it a good ROI. I got to work with a very good producer; I got to meet and hang out with Boris – one amazing artist at one amazing time in history; and I got a free trip to LA when we went to film Boris meeting record execs, mixing a song in a studio, (where Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics joined and laid down a killer track), talking guitars at Guitar Center on Sunset Blvd., and having his first ever burger and shake at Mel’s.
It’s easy to say “sure take the leap, invest your time and money” when either history or celebrities are involved. But what about when neither are? What about when you get a call from the local boys club and they want you to show a movie or give a talk? Of course they don’t have any money so you’ll never be paid. Chances are the gig will never lead to other gigs, unless they are similarly unpaid gigs. What about the investment in the kids? What about the possibility of a return there?
I still feel guilty about “holding the line” with a non-profit in Newark, NJ when I was there in 2001. I got an email request to speak at some event involving children. I told them I usually charge $2,000. I assumed this was completely unaffordable for them but I also assumed she’d let me know and we’d negotiate further. I never heard from her again.
I’ve spoken a couple times over the years to classes at SF State. I know I received some honorarium, maybe $500, for each visit. What I didn’t expect was this: Five years later getting a call from Iran. Some woman said she’d been a student at SF State. She heard and was inspired by one of my talks. Now she was in Tehran working with director Bahman Ghobadi. They wanted to talk with me about coming to Tehran to edit his next feature film Turtles Can Fly. Are you kidding me?! I took the job. The point here is you never know what fruits your efforts might bear at some distant point in time with some unknown person.
That’s partly why I don’t like the term “non-profit.” I want to start a movement to abolish it. (I know, good luck with the Feds!) The term I want to substitute for it is “social profit.” (These are not original ideas but I can’t remember when and where I first heard them. Hence, no attribution.) I think “social profit” better describes the ROI for much of what I do. So many people benefit, in so many small and not so small ways, from seeing my movies, hearing my talks, taking my workshops and classes, even reading these blogs. Some even benefit from talking with me in person. Who’s to say what the value of that is? Over the course of my career I’ve had at least 50 people tell me their lives were changed because of my work. (OK, probably 45 of those said specifically HOOP DREAMS.) Most of those chose to devote their lives to filmmaking because of it. How much is that worth?
So what kind of ROI are you looking for? You better figure this out so you can begin to measure whether you’re meeting the bar. In business, “the triple bottom line” usually refers to “people, planet, and profits.” This is the new standard for conscious, forward-looking entrepreneurs. For my ROI, I tend to lump the first two together into one category I call “social return.” So my triple bottom line is “social return, artistic satisfaction, and decent cash income.” (See my last blog on how and why I came to give up on “profit.”)
These are some of the standards you need to ask yourself, especially if there’s no money involved: Do I like the producer(s) and trust him/her? Does he/she produce regularly enough to offer me future work? Will the job grow my knowledge base, present new challenges? Are there people on the crew I can actually learn from, who will take the time to teach me? (Traditional crewing logic dictates that you should always take a job for less IF you’re moving up the ladder by getting a new credit, e.g. going from 2nd AC to 1st AC.) Do I like the subject matter and/or other key participants? Do I believe in the project – as a work of art? As viable commercially? Does the project promise travel, adventure? You’ve got to ask yourself these and other questions, then make the best decision you can and move on.
Over the years many people have remarked to me: “You are a pillar of integrity. All these years and you’ve never sold out!” But they don’t understand. The truth is no one’s made me a good offer!
To learn more about Frederick Marx and his work, watch some of his new movies.