If This Is A Blog Then What's Christmas?

Treatment writing is a thorny subject at the best of times.  What was introduced as an innovation to provide a director with competitive edge has now become the norm.  From the day that a virtually unknown director named Tarsem successfully pitched for Levi’s Swimmer with an inches thick book (it included swatches of material for the frocks to be worn by the women at poolside parties etc) the world of treatments has become increasingly sophisticated.

Originally treatments were meant to provide a competitive edge.  In 2015 they are a required part of the process, partly because clients rely on them as much as (if not more than?) the agency. And they’ve become huge, cumbersome beasts:  30, 40 even 50 page treatments aren’t uncommon (although, oddly, only the absolute A-Listers seem brave enough to keep treatments to less than 10 pages). And with anything that can secure you millions of pounds/dollars, an entire community has sprung up to service the need. And what of the cost? A treatment can cost ‘nothing’ to produce (the director writes the text and an internal person pulls the images and creates the PDF document), but it also could cost £3k+ (a professional writer, pictures researcher, layout artist, director revisions, agency changes, ECD changes etc etc). Then there’s the whole other level: pre-viz, set models, filmed director interviews, test footage etc. Obviously, the bigger the job then the more comprehensive the treatment (with a rough ‘size of budget to scale of treatment’ ratio being acted out), but treatments are still required on even small scale, online projects with sub £50k budgets can require a £2k treatment.

And do they help or hinder?  Of course it’s great to have a comprehensive idea of what the director is about to shoot, but then you can plan so much you squeeze all the fun out of an artistic endeavour. And so many great ads managed to occur before the days of treatments that you can’t help but wonder how exactly they fall under the definition of ‘necessary’. And a 40 page deck for a 30 second spot?  Really? Then you’ve committed to so much, you’re not even sure of exactly what you’ve promised and what you haven’t:

Client: ‘And that shot of the chipmunk with the mandolin – where’s that in my finished film?’  

Agency: ‘Oh, but that was just in the treatment as a reference…’

Client: ‘But my husband loves chipmunks. Stick it in, there’s a good chap.’

Agency: ‘But a chipmunk wrangler will cost another 5k.’

Client: ‘Oh. I wonder if your biggest rival can afford a chipmunk wrangler…’

etc.

And when it comes to unreasonable bollocks the agency can be just as guilty:‘I’m sending you a script, could we do a meeting / call tomorrow – and a treatment by the end of the week?’ And that’s often the sort of timescale everyone is faced with, so you can imagine the time pressures involved in an effort to present something that’s half decent.

And on top of all that, do the creatives even know or care about what they’re looking at? I recall an interesting treatment I once received for a Nicorette ad (one of the ones with a man dressed as a giant cigarette), which involved the directors explaining to me their desire to use an anamorphic lens in order to achieve the same look as Alien or Aliens. Then we moved onto how they were going to invoke the Kubrick of 2001. Then the whole thing collapsed under the pile of bullshit that had been generated.

Then again, at least it was their own work and ideas. Many’s the time I’ve received a treatment written by a professional writer of such things, leading me to wonder where the director began and the writer ended. Under such circumstances, can you be sure whose vision are you hiring? And does that matter?

In LA – a town where creative/screenwriting is in the DNA of the community – treatment writers are recognised as an asset, not a dirty word.  “Who’s your writer?” is a question asked out of genuine interest – not deep suspicion.  From what I’ve seen, the treatment writer is thought of as someone the director turns to in an effort to make the project better, in the same way he turns to a DoP or an editor.

And yet in London the opposite is true.  I was talking to a producer whose director always writes his own treatments.  He recently lost a job and was told by the agency that they’d given the project ‘to the only director we’d shortlisted who’d written their own treatment’.  Not only did the agency positively discriminate against treatments written by third parties – they couldn’t distinguish accurately who did and who didn’t rely on a writer to knock the words into shape.

Seems like everyone agrees that picture researchers are a valuable asset. Need a still image of a sad frog standing next to a bicycle? A wistful hipster staring out of a rainy window? Give the photo researcher a call.  But the words?  No, no, no – they must come straight from the director.

Whatever the right and wrong, it seems odd that the two communities should be so split about the same issue.  Is it an LA vs London thing?  Or is it something more complex than that…Can you discern the difference?  And even if you can, do you care?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZD9mRHo1CXI

If you saw someone knock a T-shirt off a shop display then walk away you might be inclined to pick it up and replace it, but why?

If you want the place to look a bit tidier for other people, or you want to save the shop assistant from having to do it, or you want to avoid people treading on the T-shirt and ruining it, then great.

If you want to make the other person feel bad, or you want to make yourself feel all virtuous, or you want to show the other people nearby what an ace person you are, then not so great.

Same action; different motives. Some rather lovely; some an expression of the little inadequacies in your head.

What about winning Wimbledon, and indeed the training it takes to do that?

If you love tennis for its own sake, or you want to inspire people to fulfil on their possibilities, or you want to keep testing your abilities at a higher level to see what you can be capable of, then that’s just dandy.

If you hate your dad and you want to show him you’re better than he’ll ever be, or you have a deep hole of misery in your soul from when you were abused as a child and the adulation from the crowd can temporarily reduce it, or you want the stability that comes from the prize money because you never quite feel safe, then that’s not so fine.

Yes, there may be other benefits that come from actions that exacerbate existing damage or make a single person feel bad, but the holes will never be filled. The cycle will continue. No amount of success or acts of (supposed) kindness will heal the wounds.

It might be worth bearing this in mind when we look at things that make little or no sense in the advertising world. For example, I can’t believe anyone still tacks pre-roll ads to the beginning of YouTube clips. We’re all consumers. We all hate the companies that do this. Why bother? A media buyer that recommends pre-roll might truly believe that the client is getting their message in front of the right eyes because TV is dead and this is a great way to target people with greater precision. Or they might simply be going along with the prevailing fashion that will deliver some KPIs that are bullshitty enough to keep them in their job, or get them a raise. And that might make mummy proud, or lead to the Audi A8 that will show those bastards at school who said they’d never amount to anything.

On the flip side, why is the client saying yes? She watches YouTube and hates the preroll just like the rest of us. Why would her company escape the hatred by doing the same thing? Does she want to just keep her head down and hope no one notices that she was promoted too soon? Is she scared of a boss that would prefer her to do something reliable, the hatred of which is impossible to truly measure? Or does she really love her ad so much that she thinks people will want to see it and therefore no skipping will occur?

Do you want that helicopter shot because you think it’ll improve the ad’s chances of selling product? Or do you want to ride in a chopper and tell your mates a story that makes you look good?

Do you refuse to work on that fast food company’s account because you are genuinely troubled by the wages they pay their staff? Or do you want to feel superior and tell your boyfriend how lovely and principled you are?

Do you work in advertising because it pays fairly well and makes you feel all gooey inside when you work with famous photographers or see your work on TV? Or are you genuinely interested in solving problems for brands that are indirectly paying you to do so?

I think most of us end up on autopilot about why we do things, but it might be worth asking those questions occasionally. And if the answers that come back don’t seem right you might want to consider altering your behaviour until they do.

MacSabbath: the McDonald’s themed Black Sabbath tribute band (thanks, V).

Glitterjizz (thanks, J).

Shovel drop sounds like Smells Like Teen Spirit (thanks, J):

Inside an artificial brain (thanks, J):

Travel through the music of the past as you get further from Earth (thanks, D).

Amusing song (thanks, J):

Every episode of Murder She Wrote.

Bill Burr takes down Yoko Ono (thanks, G):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5zO6t_RZdc

Junk food presented as haute cuisine (thanks, G).

I was just reading Dave Dye’s brilliant interview with Jeff Stark when I spotted this:

My old friend Mike Nicholson has just started a blog.

For some reason, blogs by creatives are pretty rare enough, but blogs by creatives who have worked in great agencies and won D&AD pencils are even rarer.

Check out his words of wisdom.

Earlier today I was listening to Tim Ferriss interviewing Rick Rubin (in a barrel sauna).

After discussing how you can lose 148 pounds by consuming nothing but protein shakes, they moved onto the creation of music.

Rick had four big points (that I can recall):

1. Only listen to the very best. It will inspire you and help you find your own voice (what is the best of the best? Rick says you should start with one of those Mojo lists of the top 100 albums of all time). This interested me because I’ve read plenty of authors and filmmakers who have said that experiencing the finest work of their peers simply intimidates them into giving up on their own projects. But have no fear! Rick has an answer to that…

2. Only try to beat yourself. If you aim for the Beatles and miss it can be a little demotivating (and almost guaranteed to occur). Instead, simply try to improve on your own work and take it from there.

3. Don’t let external influences affect what you do. If you try to create what you think your audience is going to like or worry about doing better than the competition then it’s going to affect the art you produce in a negative way. One of the Dixie Chicks said that working with Rick was like discovering music rather than creating it, like it’s in there all along; you just have to reveal it.

4. Great music comes from the heart, then the head has a listen and helps to organise it. But that first burst has to come from somewhere more fundamental that isn’t a product of logic so much as a spark of inspiration.

Because I write this blog I often wonder how such things as a Ferriss/Rubin interview can apply to what we do. After all, advertising is also the creation of art (as opposed to an entirely predictable science) that is intended to produce a reaction in the person experiencing it. So how do Rick’s points stand up in our world?

1. How many 2015 creatives dip into the greatest ads of history? As a youngster I heard it suggested so many times that I virtually memorised D&ADs and One Shows in the hope that I could at least stand on the nipple of a giant, if not his/her shoulder. How many of you know the best of yesteryear? I’m not even suggesting you go back to the 60s and 70s (many of the winners of those days seem a little distant in terms of how they relate to today), but the 80s and 90s are stuffed with amazing work that will only improve your own. If Paul Thomas Anderson can get something from Carl Dreyer, you can get something from John Webster. Start with Dave Dye’s superlative blog.

2. Trying to beat yourself instead of others sounds like it’s worth a try, but I think in this industry we don’t have untouchable geniuses like The Beatles. You could be as good as literally anyone who has won a Cannes Grand Prix in the last twenty years. Yes, a few of them seem pretty amazing, but that ability is definitely within your grasp.

3. External influences might have more significance in advertising. Unlike music, it’s quite important that you go in a different direction to the other advertisers in your category, so you need to know their work in order to diverge from it. Whether or not you need to care about what the people in the next office or at the next desk are doing, I don’t think it matters either way, but just make sure your client isn’t playing on the same pitch.

4. The heart then the head has a lot of layers to it. Trying to create art based on logic is unlikely to end within anything particularly inspiring, but then you have to learn to trust the unpredictable combination of circumstances that lead to a heart-busting idea, and that’s not a comfortable place for most people. In my experience the creatives can always be the heart of the agency, while planning can add the brain-justification that helps to sell it to a less hearty person. But how do you harness your heart? I think that the creation of ideas is one of those things that churns around at the subatomic level we just don’t understand – if it were clear and easy we’d be better at it. So can you dependably corral all those quarks and superstrings to make something that’s worth revealing to the real world? Sure. You just have to practice. Find what works for you and keep heading in that direction, but don’t forget to ignore what works from time to time and do something completely different.

Thanks, Rick.

The greatest book of all time (thanks, J).

Which one of Ant and Dec are you? (Thanks, T.)

Tetris with goats:

Great interview with the highest-paid screenwriter in the history of Hollywood (thanks, J2).

Movie shots from inside the fridge (thanks, J):

What happens when you feed 2001 into Deep Dream?

Sometimes you just want to watch a huge fountain of blood gushing out of a zebra into the surprised face of the leopard that’s trying to eat him.

This kid just won life (thanks, N):

And while we’re on the subject of boundless joy:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9kAMe5PAJ4

Justin Bieber butt photoshoppery (thanks, J).

Great shots of the backs of theatres (thanks, J).

The Shining board game, designed by Stephen King (thanks, T).

I’m a big fan of the commercials production company known as A Large Evil Corporation (ALEC).

I say that not only because they do marvellous work like this:

…but also because they just made an incredibly accurate vinyl image of me (and my cat, Tyler):

I just fancied a new avatar, so asked them (via the lovely Mark Denton) and they produced this in a couple of days. Why did I ask them? Because I saw this and thought it was ridiculously good:

But the vinyl figures are just a thing on the side to show how well they capture character. It’s the animation that they’re REALLY good at.

I’ve often looked to animation to present an idea in a different way, and love how the process allows lots of regular input from the creatives while still giving the directors a huge canvas on which to express themselves. But you need to work with the right company, so if you like very high levels of craft with an excellent sense of humour (just check out their staff), give ALEC a go.

And in case you’d forgotten, they understand adland like no one else:

Hey Ben,