On Friday, October 6, 2023, Utah Filmmakers™ hosted its first Associate Symposium at Publik Space in Salt Lake City—an event specifically for our Associate Members and eligible candidates.
The author, speaking at the 2023 Associate Symposium |
The Associate Program was implemented in 2021 to identify reputable, Utah-based film industry resources that share common goals and core values with the Utah Filmmakers™ Association.
The symposium—co-sponsored by Cyclone Spuds, DB Productions Utah, and the Utah Arts Alliance—included a presentation by yours truly, UFA™ Founder Joe Puente. What follows is based on my remarks from that evening, in which I discussed my filmmaking experience in Utah since 1999 and my efforts with the nonprofit organization I started in 2002, highlighting past projects and programs and discussing the mission going forward.
One of the defining experiences of my filmmaking career occurred in 2011 when I sought assistance from more experienced filmmakers to reboot a local interest television series. I had already established a library of short-form episodes produced for CentraCom Interactive a few years prior.
One person responded to my post in the Utah Filmmakers and Actors Facebook group, and we scheduled a time to discuss the project. Upon meeting this individual, who claimed to have experience developing original broadcast programming, I was initially impressed with the apparent knowledge they were bringing to the table. At this time, I was not yet up to speed on how one would go about vetting anyone’s industry credentials. Still, I did see an opportunity to learn more about the inextricable business aspects of film and television production. Concurrent with creating a pilot/sizzle reel, I took it upon myself to seek out additional sources of knowledge on the subject, including an attorney experienced in entertainment law, with whom I had consulted in the past on the subject of intellectual property.
As I learned more about the business side of production—including variations in the practices and vernacular between film and television—I started to note discrepancies between what I was learning about industry standards and how my collaborators were attempting to manage the project. By the end of that year, I came to an unexpected realization—the people I was working with didn’t really know what they were doing. They were enthusiastic; they sprinkled their discussions with industry jargon and spoke confidently. However, by the end of the year, I had learned much more about the business. While I still did not understand all the minutia of developing a TV series, I had learned enough to recognize that the knowledge I had gained over the previous six months had apparently surpassed that of the people who were trying to “help” me.
When they presented a “deal memo” describing oddly specific and largely irrelevant requirements they claimed were necessary to continue with the project, I shared it with my friend—the aforementioned attorney—who advised me not to sign it. From a legal perspective, it was apparent the people I had been working with had only a rudimentary understanding of intellectual property ownership and what amounted to trivial knowledge of how a TV series is produced. Still, they demonstrated no real acumen or practical experience in developing a broadcast television program, to say nothing of getting one on the air.
It was both a frustrating and enlightening experience. I did not consider it time wasted because of what I had learned. Still, I was concerned about what others in similar situations might experience. I would later witness similar shenanigans from people with more interest in play-acting as industry moguls than actually creating something saleable. It’s one thing to recognize an idea with promise and to secure ownership of it, but the potential of a marketable idea cannot be realized without practical knowledge and experience or the willingness to understand when relinquishing control over one’s IP is genuinely in service to that potential and not just one’s ego.
Reflecting upon the personal time, resources, and energy invested in that project, which ended up going nowhere, I’m not angry with those I worked with. Hanlon’s Razor states, “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” To be clear, I did not perceive their actions as malicious, but they were definitely greedy. Nor do I think they suffered from stupidity, just ignorance, but how had they managed to get as far as they did? The same way that others have managed to get even farther. They overcompensated their lack of knowledge with false bravado or what many might label confidence. This is the primary component of some of the worst advice that could be taken to heart in any field: the idea that anyone can “Fake it till you make it.”
Confidence in one’s abilities can certainly be positive if genuine and indicates one’s potential contributions. However, being honest about one’s weaknesses—especially with oneself—and demonstrating a willingness to learn requires self-awareness, humility, and an ability to work with others.
The problem with faking it, pretending to know how something is done to impress a stranger who isn’t as familiar with the subject, or worse, to be hired for a job one isn’t qualified for, is that it requires deception. Faking confidence to inspire others to have confidence in them—or a product or service they are trying to monetize for their personal benefit—is a very old practice, known as a “confidence trick,” perpetrated by a “confidence man,” shortened over the years to simply “Conman.”
Again, I don’t think the people I worked with had the intention to con anyone. They were just “faking” confidence, hoping to “make it” someday. This begs two important questions:
- Does faking it actually work?
- What does it mean to “make it?”
The answers to either question can vary from person to person—which is problematic. “Faking it” leads people to confuse a product with a profession. They point to a film they managed to complete and say, “Check it out! I made it!”
Technically, they may have “made” a film, but if no one sees it—because one can’t fake distribution—can they say they’ve “made it” as a professional filmmaker?
They may claim as much and do so with an abundance of “confidence,” but how many other people are getting conned along the way?
The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the authors and—especially where guest posts are concerned—do not necessarily reflect the official policies and/or practice of the Utah Filmmakers™ Association, its officers and/or associates. |