ODE TO JACK

On the 3rd Anniversary of The First Minister's Speech on Culture

On the day of St Andrew, two thousand and three
The great and the good and a few MSPs
Gathered in Glasgow, lending their ears
To a speech by bold Jack at the RSAMD

We focused on health care, on crime and the ned
Cried Jack from the stage, and now let it be said
That what people need is not pills or the jail
But their cultural rights or our nation will fail

In future Executive Heid Yins, said Jack
Will rise to this challenge or else face the sack
For culture’s the answer to all of our needs
And starting with weans, I intend to succeed

If weans are our future, they need to express
Themselves; here let me stress
The value of drama, the beauty of dance
Or music and art, so let’s offer the chance

To every wee numptie who thinks they’re a star
We’ll promise them access, hand out a guitar
Or a paintbrush or something that helps them to grow
And save us a fortune in benefits, so –

The jobless and feckless in future will be
A bygone statistic, and no longer free
To hang out in bookies or pubs or the hoose
Watching Flog It, or some other half-baked excuse

For not taking part in artistic pursuits
So we’re giving them rights and we’re letting them loose
With digital camcorders in the hope they’ll become
The next Ridley Scott, and not unemployed scum

If Jack Vettriano can make a good pile
Then why can’t the nation just copy his style?
In high-priced apartments all over the land
Your paintings can hang for a mere twenty grand

For all you musicians who can’t get a gig
And need some advice about making it big
Just get a computer to burn your CD
And let folk download it for 79p

Then up pipes a voice from the back of the hall
But Jack, comes the cry, what’s the point of it all?
If we don’t have the cash then your scheme’s just a sham
And as usual the talent will go on the lam

You tell us that culture’s the thing Scotland needs
To rise as a nation, but fail to concede
That without the spendulies we’ll be at a loss
And too busy working to give much of a toss

You’re offering less than the minimum wage
To writers and painters or those on the stage
While bean counters thrive on the back of our sweat
And force us to beg because they get to vet –

The submissions for funds about which they know shit
While we wait months on end for them not to commit
By which time we’re in debt and we’re in arrears deep
So we work for low wages to dodge the scrap heap

You say Jack in Scotland we need to aspire
That the talent is here, but we need to aim higher
But your words just ring hollow, and it’s here I predict
That by twenty-oh-six there will still be no fix

For culture is born in the heart and the soul
It cannot be made an objective or goal
And art isn’t something that’s done on the cheap
So stop making promises not yours to keep

THE LATE LATE SHOW

The great UGC (User Generated Content) debate continues. Well, it does here.

Thanks to Andy (again) for forwarding this link from the Guardian

media.guardian.co.uk/site/story/0,,1949139,00.html

It’s a two-edged thing. If I had something 'particularly editorially important or unique’ on my mobile, say (apart from compromising snaps of my mates) then I’d be looking for the highest bidder, not haggling with some assistant at BBC News and Current Affairs over a measly 100 quid use fee. And not when they’re shedding jobs at the rate they are in the so-called regions.

Then again, you can’t blame broadcasters, not when they’re being bombarded with zillions of emails and images every day, unsolicited or not. They’re hardly likely to cough up when people are throwing free content their way, are they? Besides, telly’s already having to compete with self-styled media moguls on the internet, where pretty much everybody has their own website, or at least a page on MySpace. Or a podcast. Or a blog…

Where it’s going to end, I wonder? Surely it can’t be long before your status in society will be judged not by your class, income or education, but by your web presence, not by who you are but by who you say you are – or what other people say you are. Not by what you achieve, but by the number of hits you get. There’s digital democracy for you.

In the Guardian piece, I like the way the BBC guidelines advise -

"Audiences should not be encouraged to think that payment is the norm, or in any way encouraged to take risks, put themselves in danger or break any laws in order to secure what they perceive to be material of high monetary value."

Changed days at the BBC then. Not so long ago Noel Edmonds fronted a show where the audience was encouraged to do exactly that – until somebody died – in the name of light entertainment. And funny to think how Johnny Knoxville and his crew have made their fortune with dumb ass stunts you’d need to be off your face to take part in.

I guess the Beeb’s message here is, don’t ask us to carry the can for the punter daft or desperate enough to put their neck on the line for a bit of rare footage. Tell that to all the freelance cameramen working in war zones for less than a hundred quid a day.

SPELL IT LIKE IT IS

I'm not beating about the minge here.

If the UK Film Council really want quality responses to their consultation on the future of film in this country, they could start by firing whoever did the feature graphics on the .pdf file

www.ukfilmcouncil.org.uk/usr/ukfcdownloads/206/
FilmInTheDigitalAge-ExecSummary.pdf

Or at least tell them to use spellcheck the next time.

Awarness?

Please. Is this hitting new lows in irony or just a new way of describing what Blair’s doing in Iraq and Afghanistan or what?

RADGE OF DISHONOUR

Guess what was on the menu on Sunday night?

No big surprises at the Bafta Scotland Awards then. Red Road ran away with the prizes, and so it should have. Also no big surprise that Monday’s Scotsman ran a piece on the winners that attracted some radge ranting from Embra loonies taking exception to RR for being Glaswegian like it’s a punishable offence. Which is a bit rich when their favourite son, writer and (a whole music video later) director Irvine Welsh is shooting a slice of Leithian bawbaggery for Channel 4. See, they’ve even got me at it.

Like the slogan says – Scotland – The Best Small Country in the World – only they left out the word ‘Minded’.

thescotsman.scotsman.com/index.cfm?id=1675652006

If you ever wanted to know why filmmaking in Scotland is a dead loss, here’s the proof. Bad enough when the papers only announce half the Bafta awards, leaving out the New Talent, who don’t merit a mention since it’s unlikely they’ll ever get to be old talent. It’s pretty bad as well when some snider writing in the Sunday Times Scotland rubbished the awards, slagged off the organiser, Alison Forsyth, and insulted anybody lucky enough to have a ticket. Clothes out of Primark and Barnados? How amusing. Has this clown never heard of TK Maxx?

If you want the full story check the link. Me, I recommend Listerine.

www.timesonline.co.uk/newspaper/0,,2764-2447075,00.html

When will Scottish hacks finally understand that TV and filmmakers in this country are not all freeloading talentless spongers wasting taxpayers money? Or that the films that get made here, like it or not, hold an undistorted mirror up to who we are? If, as the journalists never tire of telling us, nobody here goes to see Scottish movies, then doesn’t some of the blame lie at the door of the rags? And as for the nutters writing in, where do you think they're getting their information?

And no, there’s no point wagging the finger at Scottish films for not making money. English, Welsh and Irish films don’t either. Come to that, neither do most other European or even American films. That’s showbiz. But being too lazy to do any research, the hacks just pick away at the scabs in that same old self-loathing way, then have the cheek to snipe when the talent ups and leaves.

I’m not saying we should only make wee miserable films. But when you’ve only got wee miserable budgets to make them with then what’s the option? I’d rather watch a film with something true to say than a couthy tartan and shortbreid pack of lies that might satisfy the rags, the Tourist Board and Jock McConnell, who wouldn’t know a good film if it bit their arse. Although I’m sure rubber chicken tastes better.

CABBAGES AND KINGS

The writer is king here at Capitol Pictures. You don’t believe me, take a look at your paycheck at the end of every week – that’s what we think of the writer.

– Barton Fink

A long overdue mention goes to my fellow bloggers, the ones linked to Filmflam. I’m guilty as charged for not returning the favour yet, eejit that I am for not working out how to create the links, but I’ll get there, I promise.

Meanwhile, here’s the blogs worth checking if you want sound advice and cautionary tales -

dannystack.blogspot.com/
scriptuality.blogspot.com/
pavementandstars.blogspot.com/
journals.aol.co.uk/bang2write/thewriteway/
bleedingforehead.blogspot.com/

They’re all great, but I particularly like Paul Campbell’s blog on scriptuality about his four year slog from script to screen writing an episode of the BBC soap Doctors. An eye-opener for anybody who thinks writing TV scripts is an easy gig. I was shocked at the hoop jumping he went through but also humbled by his good nature – though I suspect in private he bites chunks out of the furniture. Writers are human too, you know.

Can it get any worse? I ask myself. Being none too familiar with the black art of telly writing, I wouldn’t know where to start but I suspect the BBC provides the perfect breeding ground for sadistic script editors and imbecilic producers who in a past life thought they were destined for a creative and lucrative job in the entertainment business. That is, until they ended up at the home of the £750 draft, which is roughly what Paul earned for his efforts. And that’s not counting the prep and the right to torture the Beeb got for free.

Somebody once told me most of us are only ever two paychecks away from the gutter. To be fair to all those script editors out there, it can’t be fun rounding up writers and licking their ideas into shape. They’re insecure too, hanging by their fingernails to short term contracts and judging from Paul’s story, being shunted from one crappy show to another. You could argue that by this method, the Beeb weeds out the weaklings. I suspect it’s got less to do with writing fresh and original material than taunting hopeful new writers. Scratch a bully and you’ll find a history of abuse lurking deep inside.

Writing a good script is like cooking cabbage, a perfectly good vegetable. When you boil it to death it turns into taste-free mush, so sending endless pages of script notes doesn’t strike me as having anything to do with improving scripts. It’s about control, exploitation and keeping the talent in a state of perpetual dementedness, which is why our screens are filled with shows with all the calibre and polish of, say, a Holby City or Hotel Babylon.

And you wonder why reality rules?

CURSE OF THE RUBBER CHICKEN

Whit d'ye mean ah'm oan the effin menu?

Back in June I predicted Red Road would top the nominations at the BAFTA Film and TV Scotland Awards. And sure enough, there it is, alongside The Flying Scotsman and True North. At least they managed to come up with more than two films, but in a repeat of last year only two names appear on the Best Actress list – Kate Dickie and Laura Fraser, probably because there was no standard-issue simpering girlfriend part in True North.

Faring better is telly, the more prolific of the categories. Still, nice to see River City (a local soap, you non-Scottish readers) going up against Low Winter Sun in the Best Drama category. Why a soap is competing with a heavy duty two-part drama who knows, but I know which one I’d choose. Sandwiched between them we find the smoke-free Rebus, for no other reason than the embarrassment of leaving STV out of a Scottish Film and TV awards do. With the way things are heading at the House of Taggart, the BAFTA audience may well be asked to call a premium rate number during the gong show to answer the following –

In which country are the BAFTA Scotland Awards being held? Is it -

A – Wales
B – Afghanistan
C – Scotland

Calls cost a quid plus network charges, with all profits going behind the bar at the City Hall.

But seriously, good luck to them. Filmmakers need a bit of cheering up because they sure don’t get rewarded anywhere else for their efforts. Today’s Scotsman featured an item on the value of winning an award –

thescotsman.scotsman.com/entertainment.cfm?id=1633622006

What’s sad to note here is that when director Morag Mackinnon won eight years ago with her short, Home, I’ll bet she didn’t think she’d still be waiting to make her debut feature in 2006. The same could be said for a lot of past winners, whose promising careers grind to a halt for want of a break. Do they all give up, I wonder? Or more likely, go elsewhere? Because unless they’re all making adverts for the Scottish Executive, I don’t know how they pay their rent.

I don’t get it. There are those who say filmmakers ought to stop whining, that they don’t deserve handouts from the Lottery. If that’s the case then maybe they ought to shut down every film and TV course in the country to stop encouraging people into thinking a career in the glitzy world of content provision is possible. Let’s not forget that all this education’s costing the taxpayer a bomb as well.

While we’re at it, why not downsize Scottish Screen? Overseeing a paltry two or three features and a crop of shorts a year doesn’t take an entire organisation, not when they’ve farmed out training to Skillset and sent their archive to the museum department. They could also give local cinemas the funding direct, instead of acting as middlemen. And TV can look after itself, so let the BBC and SMG sub the indies, instead of stealing cash from underemployed filmmakers.

Trawling through the net for film news, it’s remarkable the way a film made in Scotland is always Scottish, while an English film is never English. If only that pride (or is it prejudice?) could be translated into production, then the BAFTA Scotland Awards would be a real cause for celebration. But like the MacDonald Brothers on X-Factor, we’re seen as the eternal underdogs with chips on both shoulders, no doubt to go with the rubber chicken on the menu next Sunday night at City Hall. Enjoy…

BEGGARS AND LOSERS

The people have spoken. And they said – ‘Aye, right’. Yesterday’s item in The Scotsman about the future of the Edinburgh International Film Festival drew a lively response from people, including yours truly.

thescotsman.scotsman.com/index.cfm?id=1608002006

But why did it take a request under the Freedom of Information Act to learn the findings of a report commissioned by the EIFF costing 30 grand? Consultants Split Screen – who have no internet presence that I could find, so who knows - someone’s pal? – was hired to look at ways to develop the festival. Their conclusions, as deciphered by the media, involve more public funding, something that clearly got up the reader's noses, judging by their comments.

It’s been suggested that the EIFF has to grow in order to survive. Does it? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing themselves down. After all, and much to the annoyance of London, the EIFF is the best known, best loved British film festival. One of its charms has always been its small scale and the way it fits with all the other festivals happening in August. In reaction to the loss of a major sponsor, the talk now is of it being shifted to October, grafting on a film market and growing the number of films on show. But in an already overcrowded film festival market, it’s hard to see how the EIFF can pull this off, especially in an October slot, when London steals the limelight with the LFF and Raindance.

Seems to me the EIFF needs to decide who it’s aiming to attract – the cinema-going public, the festival visitor or a film industry whose diaries are already crammed. Like a hamster’s wheel, the annual bunch of markets and fests goes round – Rotterdam, Sundance, Berlin, Cannes, Toronto, Venice, San Sebastian, Rome and countless others. Festivals are big business, but the reason the film industry turns up in Edinburgh is easy to figure. It gives film folk a wee holiday, where agents, producers, sales companies and distributors can combine a few days business with the chance to catch a fringe show or a PA at the book fest or even grab a grandee at the Television Festival.

They also come because the weather’s about as good as it gets, which isn’t as petty as you might think. When you don’t have the facilities of major A-list festivals, like a centrally-located set of screens, a proper delegates centre and venues for talks and socialising, then you need to provide other attractions. You can’t expect your guests to hike from Lothian Road to Fountain Park in the pishing rain either.

A film market needs films. What it doesn’t need is the dross left over from all the other festivals, so how does the EIFF hope to attract the best? If I were a distributor or a sales company, where would I want to stage my world premiere? Like it or not, Edinburgh’s not the first place that comes to mind, no matter how much public cash is ploughed into it.

And here’s where it gets complicated. Reading the comments on the Scotsman article, you can feel the static. Me, I liked the BEGGING BOWL ALERT at the top of the list, because it sums up the feeling among people whether they understand the politics or not. They just don’t like the idea of chucking public money at something they feel excluded from. Most folks’ perception of the film business is that of the fat cat, knocking back free booze at the Council Tax payer’s expense. How much of the EIFF’s emergency cash injection this year, I wonder, went into flying Charlize Theron or Kevin Smith in from the States and putting them up in five star luxury? It just doesn’t play well with the punters, especially with a price hike on tickets from £6.20 to £7.45.

I blame the media because in the past when the EIFF failed to deliver red carpeteers of superior standing, they were criticised. Now, after a relatively starry year, the knives are out. They just can’t win. For years the EIFF has championed indie filmmaking, especially from the UK. It shouldn’t need to draft in big budget movies or create a market just to survive. It should ignore London, do what it can to attract another major sponsor and get on with the business of loving movies for their own sake, instead of chasing their tails in an overcrowded cage.