DEV-IL IN DISGUISE

Spring has sprung
The grass has riz
Does anyone know what development is?

Now that the weather's finally picking up, there's a lot of hot air about development around, what with the BBC dishing out a million quid to cash-strapped regional production outfits, such as struggling indies, Endemol Glasgow and IWC (otherwise known as I Want Cash). You'll also notice the perennial crop of development workshops, such as Arista's The Business of Development, a snip at 250 pounds. So for all of you who can't afford the industry skinny - which I guess means anyone reading this - welcome to my no-shit guide to development.

Development's a torturous rite where writers get screwed by producers who get screwed by the likes of the Film Council and the regional film bodies because development - also known as 'soft money' - doesn't pay producers a wage, so they have to steal it from somewhere, meaning writers - also known as 'soft targets' - get mugged. By the way, there's no point asking the BBC to cough up - their stock excuse is 'we don't do development, we don't need to', which I guess accounts for schemes like New Talent that pay tyro scribblers less than minimum wage for episodes of quality BBC 3 dramas.

The purpose of script development, we're told, is to get a screenplay into the best shape to make it attractive to potential investors. In other words, it has to be commercial. Or at the very least it has to feature posh people in silly clothes falling over. Development Executives - usually called Natasha or Charlotte - are paid sizeable five figure salaries to oversee the mysterious process of turning gold into lead. Meanwhile the writer's lucky if they see a couple of grand, having already written a first draft for hee-haw because nobody reads treatments. But because Natasha's really busy with her 79 other projects, it takes her a while to read your second draft, let's say six months, by which time you're selling Sky TV packages at the local call centre to make a dent in your overdraft.

Then, having lied to your boss - a funeral usually works - to attend a script meeting, you're a little miffed when Natasha suggests 'useful' changes such as - we really need a love interest or isn't the ending a little too downbeat? To which your producer nods in agreement while you're chucking daggers at him, wishing it was his funeral. And after Natasha runs off to her next meeting (three bottles of dry white with her just-dumped girlfriend) - you and your producer pick over the corpse in the pub where, having downed six pints of cooking lager at your expense, said producer starts weeping inconsolably and won't stop until you agree to write another draft. For free.

This scenario, like a recurring nightmare, is generally repeated for a few years, bouyed up by your producer's delusional belief that he's got 45 per cent of the budget in place. Meanwhile, you've been promoted to call centre supervisor and in your spare time make abortive attempts at novel writing and despair over your creeping alcoholism. Your script, meanwhile, has been through eight drafts and the wringer which, for two grand, paid you an hourly rate of 7p.

So does development make a script any better? Getting back to the notion of commercial - just how commercial can a low budget movie be? Which is what yours would've been, if only it got past go. And if the budget's low, say in the 1-2 million quid bracket, who's prepared to throw cash to sell the movie? Just how many of these films ever paid back their investors? Virtually none would be a fair assumption. And it's here that public money falls down the pan, because if you can't make a low budget commercial film - one that has stars and plays on 400 screens or can even attract a distributor in the first place - why bother to make the script commerical?

In fact, why bother with development at all?

I'm sure if this was pointed out to our public film funders, they'd deny it, claiming they encourage risk taking, welcome new talent, support cutting edge films blah-di-blah. Just make sure your script deals with football/children/dodgy drugs/girls with big knickers/fart jokes/
kebab shops and has a part for Julie Walters. And don't forget the upbeat ending.

THE BORE WAR

Life in the sticks may be career death for any UK filmmaker, but some parts of the nation fare better than London when it comes to handouts. Then again, looking at our national - sorry, regional - screen websites, it occurs to me if they had a league, there'd be no prizes for guessing which agency would be up for relegation this season.

Last month Scottish Screen launched a new site and about time too. Their old one went down last November when the company looking after the agency's online presence went tits up - at least that was their excuse. Great, you might think, here's a platinum-clad opportunity for SS to finally get its shit together and launch a site that means something to the people using it. But no. If you wanted a more pointless and boring online experience you could always turn to www.margarine.org - currently a contender for the world's most boring website. I could tell them different.

But hang on a minute. Isn't film and telly supposed to be the world's most exciting and glam business? As universities scrap worthy-but-deathly dull departments like say, chemistry, the numbers of film, drama and media studies courses are heading north. The very idea of making telly or movies is a bit like entering X-Factor, only with a three-figure IQ (well, for some of us) but where year-on-year a brand new crop of hopeful graduates are turfed out and turned into sub minimum wage fodder by TV production companies in the guise of work experience. If they're lucky. The rest of us end up in call centres or pulling pints.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Scottish Screen's making a point by putting up a website written in a bizarre corporatese that reads more like a local government traffic regulatory body than a starry-eyed-entertainment industry vehicle. It's trying to put us off. With a canny eye for illusion and judging by their site, SS is playing more to their backers than those they should be backing - filmmakers, TV companies, cinemas, training bodies and archives - the folks keeping them in a job. Not that they'd ever call it now they're finally being scrapped. From 2007 SS is being folded into a new animal shape - Creative Scotland - alongside their arch-enemy the Scottish Arts Council. Sounds to me like a marriage made in OK Magazine and without a pre-nupt, one that looks doomed already.

If you don't believe me, find out for yourself - www.scottishscreen.com

But be warned. You'll find no news, no information, no links that mean anything, no forum, no greatest hits to boast of yet they funded several non-duffers in the past. There's no downloads, no list of awards and crucially, not a single moving image, not even a still from any film they've ever backed. Instead, all you get a set of mission statements that ring hollow, like they're trying to convince themselves, let alone anyone else. Scottish Screen boasts 45 staff, but there's no contacts, no names, no numbers. MI6 is more open door than this mob.

Compare and contrast with Northern Ireland. I came across the NIFTC site via Screendaily. After a quick look, I'm tempted to up sticks and move to Belfast. Unlike Scottish Screen's dismal effort, the NIFTC site looks inviting, with downloads, pictures and real information. Even better, they list a range of awards that make sense to any aspiring filmmaker. It's also written in plain English, not policy document garble. All in all, a paragon of public service.

Check it out - www.niftc.co.uk

Where you'll find - ironically - NIFTC is currently offering subsidies to anyone daft enough to attend one of the shiny new screen academies, specifically the one in Scotland. Why bother? It's cheaper to fly to London. And a whole lot less boring.

PIXELINTERNATIONAL

For those of you following this story - okay, so I'm deluding myself - but if you thought Billy and Brian are bonkers for trying to back their movie by selling ad pixels, it only gets stranger.

Today I got an email from an outfit in Germany who are turning the same trick. If you think The Ladies Man looks optimistic, how about this?

"Muenchner Filmwerkstatt is testing a new form of film financing. In May, the Munich-based, non-profit production association MuenchnerFilmwerkstatt will shoot "The Golden Nazi Vampire of Absam, Part 2", directed by Lasse Nolte. Information on the film can be found in the project presentation:

http://www.muenchner-filmwerkstatt.de/nazivampire.pdf

and on the director's website:

http://www.dergoldenenazivampir.de/

where a German language production diary is offered as a podcast.

Since the film has a difficult theme - a trash comedy from the times of the"Third Reich" - it was impossible to fund by broadcasters and public subsidies, so the Muenchner Filmwerkstatt is now raising funds in an unusual and innovative way. Credits as an associate producer are offered through eBay, donations range from 149 euros (for a presentation in the endingcredits only) to 499 euros (for a presentation in the opening and ending credits). The auction can be found at

http://search.ebay.com/W0QQsassZminorfilms

So earnest, so honest, so, well, German.

I checked these sites and sure enough - 'The Golden Nazi Vampire of Absam (Part 2)' is up for grabs. Just when it couldn't get any weirder. So now I have a dilemma - do I invest in The Ladies Man or do I dare throw my money at the exotic world of co-pro on Der Goldene Nazi Vampir? Which of these is the most likely to succeed in the cut and thrust of pixel ad-selling?

It almost makes form-filling seem attractive. Still, being a named producer on this would make for a more interesting obit.

PIXELNATION

The first rule of Film Club is - never spend your own cash. The second rule of Film Club is - never spend your own cash.

So I take my hat off to two enterprising filmmakers, Billy Lawson and Brian Clark, who this week launched Pixels2Movies, a fundraising website they hope to turn into a romantic comedy, The Ladies Man. Encouraged by a knockback from Scottish Screen - their project has 'potential as a successful low-budget comedy' - shorthand for don't annoy us with your crappy script - the bold Billy hooked up with workmate Brian to come up with their own cunning stunt that promises to make producers of us all by selling pixels to punters from as low as ten quid, rising to a hundred for 'Gold Pixel' status.

Not a bad idea, even if the idea's ripped off from Alex Tew's million pixel advertising homepage and milliondollarmovieproject, set up by another bunch of hopefuls who plan to make a schlocky horror, Waking Dreams - just as soon as they raise the dough.

Great plan guys, I admire your guts, energy, ambition, yadda yadda. Not wishing to point out the turd in the punchbowl, I want to know a few things before buying into The Ladies Man. For starters, you're a couple of guys who've never made a film but you're asking us to part with money to make your film. Well, you're not the first - some of us remember Pasty Faces and most of us would rather forget. You admit you could use some practice, so can't you at least borrow your dad's camcorder and try out a couple of scenes to see if they're kneeslappers? Even better - since you've gone to the bother of putting up the site why not let would-be punters read the script and decide for themselves if it's a surefire hit? I mean, I've never known a producer to part with cash without at least getting their development executive/this week's girlfriend to read the script, no matter what shape it's in. In fact, I've never seen a producer part with cash full stop. Not even for a bar bill.

I could be dead wrong. Maybe flattering punters by calling them producers is the way to go, but you shouldn't go offering people input, especially when you might have a few thousand of the buggers to deal with. Take it from me, I know what kind of input a tenner makes any old customer think they're entitled to. Boys, if you really want to make The Ladies Man there's a few things you need apart from the cashola. Stars come pretty high on the list. Or at least somebody who's been in a couple of episodes of River Shitty. In the bearpit of real-world moviemaking the first question you'll be asked is 'who have you got?' like it's it's some kind of affliction. Whether you choose to chance your arm is up to you, but where's the harm in say, putting up a daily ranking of 'most likely' actors - go for broke by announcing you've got Ed Norton/Robert Downey Jnr as Jim, say, or Natalie Portman or Winona Ryder playing Carla. Think of the links - et voila - a million hits. It's the same tactic every two-bit Brit producer uses. Who's doing your soundtrack rates as a close second. Coldplay? Embrace? Shayne Ward? U2? Sky's the limit.

Pixels2Movies might look naive in some quarters, but I disagree. At a time when seasoned producers - those two-time shorts filmmakers, the people who can't raise fifty quid for DV stock, the people who can only dream of making a first feature by the usual route - I say good for you Billy and Brian - you've only sold 100 of your 1,000,000 pixels so far but you took your knockback from Scottish Screen on the chin and refused to lie down and die. I'm no script doctor but in this lacklustre era of laugh-free UK comedies The Ladies Man seems as likely as say, Ben Elton's Maybe Baby. And possibly more entertaining.

So let's take inspiration from Billy and Brian. Okay, they may not know the first thing about actually making a movie but when did that stop anyone? If they raise the cash, it only reinforces the fact that we all love to be in on something. The Ladies Man, centred on a big dick premise and a hoover gag, stands (ahem) a better chance than ours of winning the Lottery, Me, I'd love it to be a multi-million gross-out. And just like the floater in the punchbowl, no doubt the ghost of Scottish Screen will rise to applaud it, too late to cash in but ready as ever to claim the credit.

SINKING OF THE TARTANIC

This pair look like they're having a great time, no? Call me a party pooper but can anybody tell me what's the point of Tartan Week?

Roll out Shir Shean Connery, a shite for shore eyes and shurely the nation's most patriotic tax dodger, who's in the Big Apple, according to the Hootsmon, to front his charity 'Friends of Scotland' though why he needs a handout from the Scottish Executive is beyond me. Adding to the nation's embarrassment there's the 'Dressed to Kilt' fashion show. If you wonder why Scotland's population is plummeting, here's the reason. In New York, at our expense, you've got freeloading First Minister, Jack McConnell who, when he's not scrapping with Shir Shean, is tripping on the catwalk with hasbeens such as Darius 'dinner dance' Danesh, Kathleen McDermott (whose last film was...?) Atta Yakub (ditto) Alex Salmond (yawn) and just to prove there's no show without Punch (or should that be punch-up?) bare-arsed Brian 'four houses' Cox. Did they fork out for their own flights? Will sales of kilts rocket? Do we care?

What I object to is the bogus version of my country being peddled as reality. And as much as the media complains about Scotland's 'traditional' image being outmoded - the tartan and shortbreid and all the other hangovers from when Scotland was invented by the English in the eighteenth century - they and our politicians and entertainers still cling desperately to the lie. Tartanalia is their default mode, having neither the guts or the imagination to try something else. It's the equivalent of the Uncle Tom syndrome, only without the blackface, as our pathetic figureheads parade in their tartan skirts, just so Donald Trump won't pull out of the golf resort deal.

Browsing the Friends of Scotland website, I'm intrigued to see it's got a .gov suffix. Strange, when we're told it's a charity, but that's quality journalism for you. Even stranger is the fantasy FOS sells - of a nation overflowing with creative spirit - I quote - Today in Scotland this spirit is very much alive and kicking in the fields of architecture and design, literature, art and sculpture, music, film and the brave, new, largely unexplored world of digital possibilities. This is pure tosh, where only the creative spirit on show comes out of the copywriter's keyboard. Tell it to the poor filmmakers who have to part with 100% of their rights to get a few measly grand out of Scottish Screen. Assuming they get their phone calls returned.

Why pretend that Scotland's a happening place? Judging by the number of ex-pat and clan societies, New Yorkers can take care of their own romantic notions of Scotland, thank you, just like their Oirish counterparts do on St Patrick's Day. Hell mend the American tourist who arrives at a shitty airport only to pay over the odds to see some clapped-out historic attraction. Where tea rooms serve two quid scones and slam the door shut at three on the dot and where the overpriced hotel beds are miniscule. Bring your own soap and lightbulb.

To get back on topic, Tartan Week only gets worse when it comes to celebrating Scottish film. The most up-to-date offerings are Festival, directed by American Annie Griffin, financed mostly outside these shores and On a Clear Day, a by-the-numbers take on the working class directed by another non-Scot, Gaby Dellal, ex-wife of a Working Title mogul, who must've really struggled to get public funding and I don't think. Semi-recent works include Young Adam, four million quid well-spent, no? The best of the bunch, a couple of old dears by the names of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and The Maggie may be Scottish in content, but Scottish they ain't. Duh, why do you think Sandy McKendrick quit the place? But when did that ever stop Scottish Screen from hijacking other people's movies? After all, didn't a recent Roughcuts applaud Manderlay as a Scottish movie, just because a Glasgow producer filled in the Lottery forms for Zentropa?

Let's face it, the most exciting things to come out of this country in recent years are Grand Theft Auto and Rustboy (check it out) creations that owe nothing to hokum, couthy Scottishness. Like Japanese whisky or Braveheart, what the Scots excel at is cherry-picking ideas and icons from other places and reinventing them. To claim Oor Wullie and Tunnock's Tea Cakes as cultural icons is soooo last century, the kind of lazy-minded tripe you expect from BBC Scotland arts programme-makers. Oh man, I'm beelin', so ah um. But as ma mammy tells me, you could moan for Scotland, so ye could. I think she means mourn.