Filmmaking is NOT a hobby!

The Utah Filmmakers™ Association does not set out to discourage anyone striving to work in the film industry, but one cannot espouse Professionalism, Integrity, and Respect without complete honesty. It must also be acknowledged that some of the terms we’ve used in reference to community filmmakers, while intended to make those lacking professional experience feel welcome and included, may not have been helpful to the organization’s Mission. Emphasis has always been placed on our Vision, yet confusion persists about what “filmmaking” represents within our society and culture.

Is filmmaking an art form or a business?

More to the point, can filmmaking just be considered an art form without all the baggage associated with “business” and “industry”? Our response may disappoint some, but the entire premise of the question is false. It assumes that the “art” and “business” of filmmaking exist independently—they do not.

While some might not like to hear it, the business of filmmaking is a definitive and inextricable component of the art form because of its collaborative nature. When two or more individuals agree to cooperate on a project—regardless of whether or not it’s artistic, commercial, public, or personal—they have entered into an implicit contract and are conducting business amongst themselves. Whether or not it was discussed in advance, the project will create a unique asset that did not exist previously—an idea or an object—a commodity that will have value to someone. As such, an owner—or owners—must be identified and agreed upon by everyone involved in its creation.

Too many community filmmakers have misappropriated the word “hobby” to describe their involvement in filmmaking. Such use is damaging to the industry and the art form. Filmmaking cannot be described as anything approaching the definition of a hobby. It never has, and it never will. It’s certainly not something that’s done to relax—it’s difficult, challenging, and often stressful work. While anyone can derive a great deal of satisfaction from their efforts and enjoy the process, filmmaking is not something that can be picked up and put down at anyone’s leisure; and is rarely undertaken as a solo activity. The collaborative aspect of the art form requires a level of commitment that does not allow for casual participation. No one can be expected to drop by a set when they have a spare minute to help out. While improvisation can and does happen on film sets—in front of and behind the camera—no one can improvise the creation of a motion picture.

One may attempt to counter this point by referencing the 48-Hour Film Project, but that would require ignoring all the logistical considerations required to participate in it.

There is no such thing as a “hobbyist filmmaker”

There are amateur filmmakers, yes. Do some amateurs refer to themselves as “hobbyists”? Some do. The colloquial use of the term “hobby” notwithstanding, anyone self-identifying as a “hobbyist filmmaker” is doing a disservice to themselves, the industry, and the art form. It also devalues the hard work of industry professionals in the public's minds in a way that would be unthinkable in any other line of work.

INT. SUBURBAN COCKTAIL PARTY - NIGHT Two of the host’s mutual acquaintances are making small talk. LAY-PERSON So, what do you do? PROFESSIONAL I’m a neurosurgeon. LAY-PERSON (amused) Well, that sounds like a fun hobby! The Professional rolls their eyes and walks away.

Just as the cliché “passion project” has been abused into a code phrase meaning “unpaid labor,” “hobby” is being similarly shoehorned into an absurd belief that filmmaking does not require any sort of investment. As if hobbyists, in general, don’t spend any money on their leisurely pursuits. Even if one considers meditation or walking a hobby, they still require a substantial investment of time—a commodity typically measured in an hourly wage.

The casual use of leisure rhetoric is symptomatic of amateur thinking. We’ll repeat the caveat above that some might not like to hear it, but those who insist on incorporating these terms into their concept of “filmmaking” may only be doing so to deflect attention away from the actual state of their career prospects.

Perpetual amateurs, unable to quit their day jobs because they are unable to make a living doing what they love, may prefer to think of themselves as “hobbyists” because no one wants to think of themselves as having failed to achieve something—especially something into which they’ve invested so much of their time, energy, and money. Framing their efforts as a “hobby” means they don’t have to think of their time and money as  “wasted.” Rationalizing that one can’t call it an “investment” if one “never” expected to profit from it.

This reasoning is typically applied retroactively but can also be used as preemptive cover by amateurs, mentally preparing themselves for not achieving what they desperately want, an actual career in the film industry.

Hiding one’s resentment for their unpaid contributions to weekend “passion projects” can be exhausting. Especially when they must return to work on Monday morning in some other industry. When a friend shares an article on social media about the importance of paying cast and crew or an opinion about living wages, the self-described “hobbyist” filmmaker may actually want to express their support but may fear that it might be perceived as critical of the person who “hired” them for the “proof of concept” trailer/sizzle reel intended to highlight an uncomfortably modest crowdfunding campaign. So, they do what they always do: hide behind a cheerful façade and the declaration that they’re “not in it for the money.”

Many are attracted to the film industry by the “glitz and glamour” associated with the modern myth of “Hollywood,” outdated and exaggerated stories of independent films produced with “no budget” and getting “million-dollar” distribution deals on the “festival circuit.” No matter how much they might want it to be true, it’s not an accurate reflection of the industry—not even the “independent” niche—and never was.

Amateur filmmakers must understand that it’s okay not to be “in it for the money,” but one has to be in it for a living! At the end of the day, the film industry isn’t that different from any other facet of the economy. Most people in it—even many recognizable names, faces, and voices—are not getting rich. They’re just working. Like any occupation, some enjoy the process, and for others, it’s a grind.

Unfortunately, many amateurs find themselves grinding away, trying to get into the industry only to learn—usually when it’s too late, or they’re too burned out—that they were nowhere near it.

Everyone starts as an amateur; it's not the goal.

It’s generally understood—and accepted—that everyone begins their vocational journey as an amateur, regardless of what sets them on that course. Within that context, as a beginner or novice, the descriptor of “amateur” is apt and can be discarded when one becomes a working professional—which requires time, effort, and commitment. While no one consciously chooses to remain an amateur, many try and fail to become professionals because they never let go of amateur thinking and the habits that become engrained in them because of it. What may have started out as an honest description then becomes the pejorative label of “Amateur!” so familiar to professionals—used more often out of frustration than disdain.

No one can become a professional filmmaker without first letting go of everything they think they know about making movies. An integral part of that means knowing and respecting the value of one’s time and talent and that of others. Amateurs tend to believe that being a “professional” is defined by whether or not what they do pays their bills. Yet, counterintuitively, they often maintain the false notion that they must “pay their dues” by not getting paid to gain “experience.”

Utah Filmmakers™ has developed a flowchart designed to help aspiring filmmakers identify which opportunities—“gigs”—offer real industry experience.

This flowchart can be applied
to almost any creative profession.

This does not mean that perpetual amateurs can’t make a living in the film industry—or at least within some corner of it—they just rarely get very far as “working amateurs.” They may refer to their income and the fact that they write “Filmmaker”—or a similar descriptor—in the “occupation” field of their 1040s as proof of their status in the industry. Still, they undermine it by engaging in amateur practices and behavior, like disparaging the local film communities they came from—and still rely upon for easily exploitable young talent. 

Amateurs who manage to find work in the industry despite their self-sabotaging habits offer cover for even more amateurs to disregard the tools of professionalism—making it appear obvious that one can “still get in” without them. The working amateurs count on this because only new amateurs are willing to work for predatory rates, to suspend their disbelief to accept that what’s happening to them is “normal” and it’s “how the ‘industry’ works!” Reinforced, whenever someone dares to complain, with “That’s how I started out.” Spoken with an odd mix of bitterness and pride, familiar to anyone who has confused exploitation for mentorship. Should anyone outside their sphere of understanding and influence point out unprofessional practices that working amateurs rely on to make their living, they may perceive it as a personal slight and waste little time attacking the messenger, usually by calling into question their professional bona fides.

Actual meme made by a working amateur
(Professionals don’t waste time
making petty insult memes)

Again, despite any personal prosperity they might enjoy in their particular corner of the industry, working amateurs are more than willing to maintain a narrative of a “struggling local market” to justify unfair wages and buyout terms that actual professionals—filmmakers and on-screen talent alike—would scoff at.

Some would insist that low rates are not necessarily an indicator of predatory behavior. Defensively claiming that they “can’t pay more,” referencing having to work within the constraints of a “micro-budget.”

This may or may not be in reference to SAG-AFTRA’s Micro-Budget Project Agreement. If it is, then the producers should be able to provide all of the necessary documentation to prove that theirs is, indeed, a signatory production. If it is NOT an actual signatory—the list of projects that do not qualify is clearly defined—then the producer may be misappropriating the term “micro-budget” as a catch-all excuse to pay their cast and crew as little as possible. Their motives may not necessarily be rooted in greed or shameless self-interest—amateurs will do whatever it takes to just get it done—a practice that always makes itself evident in the final product.

They tell themselves—and others—it’ll be better “on the next one.” Unfortunately, for every lesson that could inform their future efforts, they refuse to put in the work to learn how to get it right and settle for an amateur workaround to just get it done. They repeat their mistakes, confusing an expanding list of completed projects on their IMDb page for evidence of their creative growth. Some people are impressed with long lists of titles, especially if they don’t bother to watch anything on them. In reality, one needn’t commit to watching every title in the catalog of a faux-pro or working amateur to know why all of those “next” projects never pay off for their respective casts and crews. Just watch their first film, then watch their most recent film. Qualitatively, they’ll be almost indistinguishable.

Professionals understand that while getting paid is key to working consistently, how one gets paid for their work—i.e., embracing honest and ethical business practices—is also an important consideration.

Differences between amateurs and professionals

The reader is invited to consider the following juxtapositions of amateur and professional behaviors and honestly consider whether they reflect their own practices. New amateurs needn’t be embarrassed by what they read; they need only embrace some professional humility and apply what they learn.

Working amateurs are not likely to have read this far into the article—or even admit to identifying with that descriptor. On the off chance that this essay has come to their attention, one may hope that they can get something from it.

• Amateurs typically undercut their competition to get the job now, but they devalue the work, making it harder for themselves—and established professionals—to make a living.

• Professionals know the value of their time and talent and respect that of their colleagues.

• Amateurs cut corners and take shortcuts to just get it done.

• Professionals do what it takes to get it right.

• Amateurs are impatient because they think they already know what they’re doing or they can figure it out.

• Professionals know their own limitations and collaborate with others so all can benefit from each other’s unique skill sets.

• Amateurs put a lot of time and effort into making the same mistakes repeatedly while never getting better at what they do.

• When professionals make mistakes, they own them, learn from them, and grow from them.

• Amateurs complain about rules getting in the way of work.

• Professionals know that it’s the rules that make their work possible.

• Amateurs are driven by their egos to reinvent the wheel.

• Professionals will try and improve existing tools until something truly innovative and transformative replaces them.

• Amateurs talk.

• Professionals produce.

• Amateurs get offended.

• Professionals get to work.

—Joe Puente

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the author(s) and—especially where guest posts are concerned—do not necessarily reflect the official policies and/or practices of the Utah Filmmakers™ Association, its officers, and/or associates.

Justus Page on the Director/DP relationship

Justus Page

My DP career began 6 years ago. What was my understanding of the Director/DP relationship back then? I was there to do what I was told. And yet inside I was angry because a part of me felt like that wasn’t right. I should have a say. But I felt too self-conscious in my abilities to be able to speak up. We existed with different expectations of each other.

This can be a very common experience for young DP’s and directors who are finding their footing. You might’ve been lucky to find someone you clicked with right at the beginning, but most are not so lucky. What is supposed to happen is an evolution of your working process. But let’s be honest; Is that what’s happening for YOU?

I think many people running in the independent/no budget circuit innocently never learned about this evolution. Nobody told them. Certainly, nobody told me. It was years of trial and error. But I found that in those roles, that evolution is a big part of your upward mobility in the industry.

Directors: Who is your cinematographer to you? Is it someone you hired to make your film look pretty? Naively, but understandably, this is often where our headspace can be, right? What’s your expectation of them? Are they there to hear your ideas and nod? Are they there to do what you tell them to? Do you want them to just show up and take command of the visuals entirely?

Image courtesy of the author

DP’s: What are you looking for in a director? Are you looking for someone to hand-hold you? Or someone completely hands-off who leaves you alone to do what you know best? You are the professional after all. A director who vomits meaning into every angle? Or a director who couldn’t care less, as long as it looks fine.

Let’s diverge from all of these entirely, and consider another possibility. Your DP/Director is your co-collaborator​. Some seasoned DP’s and Directors might scoff when they read this part because many of them understand this is how it’s supposed to be, ​duh​. But it’s not a given.

The first time I mustered up the courage and gave honest feedback on a script I was offered and the Director went “Oh, that’s a great insight! Let’s make that change,” my whole career evolved. I realized that I could insist on reading a script first, insist on giving feedback, and have an open dialogue with my prospective director. I realized I didn’t want to work with Directors who wouldn’t give me that consideration. But also, those that did showed me their ego was left at the door. They cared most about telling the best story, whatever form that took. It no longer mattered to me whether my director wanted to plan all the shots themselves, or whether they left all of that to me; My expertise was respected, my opinion was welcomed, and that created the type of working environment most conducive to doing our best work.

Image courtesy of the author

Shooting a pivotal moment in the film, the director could say, “Let’s do the shot like this,” and I could feel comfortable saying, “Actually, based on the discussions we’ve had about what we’re trying to say about this character, I think we might be better served doing this.” And guess what? The director can say “I disagree. Let’s do it my way,” and I am absolutely fine with that. That given respect is mutual. Oftentimes, conversations like the one above are avoided on the day, because I do extensive prep and planning with my directors involving look books, breakdowns, discussing character motivations, doing boards, writing shot lists, and religiously reading the script. This gets us all on the same page long before we walk on set.

Who are we as DP’s? We are the guardians of our Director’s vision. We are meant to champion their creative integrity and protect them however we can. We do this by doing everything in our power to understand them, ask 8 million questions until we’re sure we know what the expectations are and what they’re trying to achieve. We stand up for them if someone calls into question that integrity. We go the extra mile to be involved wherever we can, just to gain even an extra ounce of understanding of the vision.

As a Director, doesn’t having someone who champions these things sound exciting? Does it not sound like a weight off your shoulders? Can you sleep better knowing your vision won’t be compromised? Doesn’t it ease your tensions to know you can confide in your DP and ask them for their help? This is the world we’re all trying to live in. And it’s possible. But it takes vulnerability to open yourself up to this dynamic. You as a Director have to be open to ideas and to accept that help. You have to be open to being wrong, but also be comfortable being right, and knowing that standing your ground won’t ruffle any feathers because you’ve fostered this relationship. As DP’s we have to be open to considering ourselves as storytellers in our own right and respect ourselves enough to accept that our jobs are so closely tied to telling a story. Even if, at the end of the day, the Director gets the final word, we can allow ourselves to express our ideas to them openly, and ego-free.

In this day and age, it isn’t too hard to find someone who will make your film look good. But what about someone who makes your story better? Someone who’s invested in its success? Someone who wants to throw the full weight of their craft behind enhancing what’s on the page, and finding ways to make it even better than it was?

The key to being better storytellers for us all is collaboration. Don’t take my word for it. Go discover it for yourself! You’ll never go back to the way things were. And that, I can promise.

Feel free to reach out and open a dialogue! I’m always happy to chat!

Justus Page

https://justuspage.myportfolio.com/

 

The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the authors and—especially where guest posts are concerned—do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of the Utah Filmmakers™ Association, its officers and/or associates. Utah Filmmaker(s)™ and UFA™ are trademarks registered with the Utah Department of Commerce Division of Corporations and Commercial Code, Registration Numbers 10706542-0190 , 11025542-0190 and 10502093-0190 respectively.

Lindsey Watson on going back to work

Things to consider when going back to work.

Liability waivers.

I can’t believe I even have to write this, but there is no more important precedent to set with the industry than our refusal to sign away our lives (literally) for the privilege of having work.

The “standard” 60-hr workweek has to go.

More hours does not equal more output. And more importantly, the harder we work, the more compromised our immune systems become, and the more likely we are to not only contract but also spread Covid-19.

Kit fees should be standard for everyone asked to work from home.

If you provide equipment that the production or a facility would have provided before, you should be compensated accordingly. This isn’t just about your main workstation, this includes your laptop, your phone to manage calls (and endless text messages) all day long, and also includes stipends to cover faster internet, electricity, printer toner, etc.

Additional Reading:

https://optimizeyourself.me/dear-hollywood-normal-wasnt-working/

https://www.wikihow.com/Know-if-You-Should-Sign-a-Waiver-of-Liability

https://www.cnbc.com/2019/03/20/stanford-study-longer-hours-doesnt-make-you-more-productive-heres-how-to-get-more-done-by-doing-less.html

https://hbr.org/2015/08/the-research-is-clear-long-hours-backfire-for-people-and-for-companies

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6617405/

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The opinions expressed in this blog are those of the authors and—especially where guest posts are concerned—do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of the Utah Filmmakers™ Association, its officers and/or associates.

Utah Filmmaker(s)™ and UFA™ are trademarks registered with the Utah Department of Commerce Division of Corporations and Commercial Code, Registration Numbers 10706542-0190 , 11025542-0190 and 10502093-0190 respectively.

Thoughts on film budgets

Budget breakdown for "Excursus"
A short film by the author—
with which he proposed to
his wife (who said yes).

One day, I was on the set of a corporate production and around lunchtime I was sitting with some of the crew members, talking shop. A newer member of the crew was asking one of the veterans about budgeting for a production. With appetites growing, catering and craft service was used as an example. Crafty can be budgeted by setting a dollar amount per day per person on the cast and crew. Allot $10 per person on a small 10-person production and your craft service budget will be $100/day. You’ll certainly want to be more generous and flexible when it comes to catering meals, especially if you opt to hire different caterers throughout the course of the shoot to add some variety to the menu. Productions—regardless of what they’re shooting—are often judged by the quality of their craft service and catering. In my budget template, “Comestibles” (Food) is the first item “Below-the-line” for that very reason.

Another question that was asked was, “Where in the budget can you most easily save money?”

Frugality, when budgeting for any film is always wise but I’m of the opinion that before one asks, “where can I save money?” One simply needs to become informed as to what the standard rates and fees are in order to properly estimate the required budget for a production. This is especially true if one is producing a project for a client. The client could be a business investing in a television commercial, or it can be an investor backing a feature film.

Knowing how much production services cost—and not forgetting that one needs to include their own fair wages—is essential to making a realistic budget estimate. When the client inevitably asks, “Can you do it for less?” the answer should never be “Yes.” It should be, “Only if you want to change the scope of the production and lower your expectations.”

Once production is rolling, and one has a defined budget for what they have been contracted to do, opportunities to save money may certainly present themselves. However, the way one saves money on a production and how one uses that savings should be informed by ethical business practices and the law.

Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for budgeted productions to request “volunteers” in front of and behind the camera, regardless of the fact that the practice is illegal. A producer may justify this practice—called “wage theft”—for any number of reasons, from saying that they’re “saving the client money” to trite appeals to artistic egos but it doesn’t change the fact that the practice opens up the production (and the client) to some severe legal ramifications that could cost much more than the savings envisioned by using unpaid labor.

In the case of productions that expect to take advantage of government-funded film incentives, the motivation to "save money" in the short-term negatively affects not only the people convinced to work for free but the bottom-line of the production itself.

If a project is approved for a film incentive rebate of 25% based on their commitment to spend at least $1 million dollars in the state, cutting corners through wage theft will directly impact the amount of money they would receive for their rebate.

For example: getting 100 people to be free extras for a simple crowd scene might save the production $10,000 for one day but NOT spending that money can, at best, shrink the production's rebate check by $2,500. Or worse. When all the receipts are counted, the budget has been properly audited and it turns out that not paying extras that one time was all it took to cut their in-state expenditures to less than $1 million dollars thus disqualifying them for the 25% rebate.

That $10,000 saved on one day of production would wind up costing $250,000. It's not uncommon for producers to count on incentive rebates to fund or at least supplement their post-production budget. And all it takes to screw it up is a short-sighted UPM or Line Producer to make an unethical and illegal decision because they think they're doing their employers a favor by "saving" them some money on a single day of production.

Bottom line, one should never try to save money at the expense of the people that are working for them. If one has given an accurate and fair budget estimate to a client and the client has agreed to it, there should be no excuse for asking—or requiring—anyone to work for less than a fair rate, especially if it means that a budget surplus is only going to be used to inflate one’s own reimbursement for their services as a producer. I can’t think of any producer that has used a budget surplus to refund their client/investor because they overestimated the cost of the production. Being able to make a reasonable profit for the work one does is an essential factor in making fair and accurate budget estimates.

When budget-saving opportunities present themselves, one needs to ask,

“Will any one person be negatively affected by this decision?”

For example: If one has allotted $2000 in their budget to secure the use of a location—based on typical rates for similar locations—and then learns that the owner/manager of said location only charges $1000 or its use. Before popping open the wrap party champaign, the question must be asked…

“Will any one person be negatively affected by this decision?”

If $1000 is the standard fee, determined to be fair and worthwhile by the owner/manager, then the answer to the above question is, “No.”

Congratulations! That’s a $1000 budget surplus—assuming, of course, that the rest of the budget balances out at the end of the shoot.

So, what do you do with that savings?

One option of what to do with any budget surplus during production is to simply allot it to the contingency fund. Every production should include a “Contingency” line-item equal to at least 10% of the entire production budget. These funds are set aside from the beginning in order to cover unexpected expenses, and any minor differences between estimates and actual rates and fees for the production.

If a piece of equipment is damaged and needs to be repaired or replaced immediately, so the pace of production isn’t hindered, contingency funds can be used to cover those costs and those receipts provided to the production’s insurance company for reimbursement.

If one has fairly estimated the cost of a crew member’s rate and kit fee and the actual cost is slightly more than the estimate, don’t ask the crew member to give you a discount or to waive their kit fee just to match the estimate. Pay them what their knowledge and experience have determined is fair. Contingency funds exist to make up that difference.

If a new contractor has offered the production a valuable service for considerably less than what has been budgeted only because they’re new to the industry and have not yet grasped the value of their work, before just agreeing to their lower fee, ask the question:

“Will any one person be negatively affected by this decision?”

The new contractor would certainly be affected, even if they don’t realize it. One must also consider that agreeing to that lower fee may result in a budget surplus but it would be unethical and potentially detrimental to the segment of the industry that the contractor represents. Undervalued services often result in more knowledgable and experienced contractors having to lower their rates in order to be competitive while hurting their ability to make a living at what they do. So, it isn’t just one person being negatively affected, it has the potential to affect an entire segment of the industry. So, the answer to the above question is “Yes!”

It’s also important to remember that, in this scenario, we’re working within an approved budget. The funds are there to compensate cast and crew fairly so there is no excuse to exploit someone’s naïveté in the interest of “saving money” that's already been earmarked for necessary expenditures. The client has already agreed to the amount, fully understanding the inherent risks involved in such an investment. Worrying about the risk that a client is taking is not part of the producer's job description.

There are already too many established filmmakers that approach budgets with a “scarcity” mentality. Being knowledgable about the value of the work that goes into a production and standing firm with clients/investors about having realistic expectations when it comes to appropriate budget estimates will help ensure that the work is valued and respected.

The contract may still go to the lowest bidder, but at least the difference in cost will be based on reasonable variables in an estimate and not a deliberate effort to undercut the competition and devaluing the work.

Joe Puente
Founder/Administrator
Utah Filmmakers™
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Utah Filmmaker(s)™ and UFA™ are trademarks registered with the Utah Department of Commerce Division of Corporations and Commercial Code, Registration Numbers 10706542-0190 , 11025542-0190 and 10502093-0190 respectively.