Is It Funny Though?
As we all squeezed behind the bar of the small country pub to watch the actor rehearse, a question was raised from the back. One of the attending clients asked, “Does he have to be holding a tankard?” Not an unreasonable question but when challenged on her issue with said vessel she replied, “My husband hates tankards, won’t go near them. Much prefers a pint glass.” I explained that, her husband’s proclivities aside, tankards are just…funnier. She asked why but had already lost interest which, to be honest was best for both of us.
Comedy is obviously subjective and everyone's’ sense of humour is different but sometimes you simply have to believe me when I tell you, “It’s just funnier.” I guess the question I’m really asking is, where has all the trust gone?
I’ve been around almost long enough to remember when a job was won with a quick chat at the agency and a simple treatment. Do they like your reel? Do they like your take on the script? Do they like you enough to spend a month in your company? If the answer to two of those was yes you were probably going to be alright. The deal was that you instilled the agency with the confidence that you were all on the same page creatively. If so, you were pretty much allowed to do your thing. But post-Covid we seem to have slowly shifted into a world where there is much less trust in the director’s point of view. Every single decision from lenses and location to wardrobe and props now seems to be scrutinised and questioned by an endless procession of people in pre, pre-PPMs. Now this isn’t a tirade against the ludicrous treatment industry of highly paid writers and ChatGPT that has recently evolved, that’s a sermon for another time. But when the treatment started becoming a weighty iron-clad contract rather than a summary of shared ideas and references, we were headed down a dark path.
For a comedy director dealing with casting and performance it is even worse. As we all know, nothing sucks the air out of a room faster than explaining in great detail why something is funny, especially over a temperamental broadband signal. And yet in recent years I’m asked more and more to perform forensic breakdowns on scripts. Explain every beat down to the second, ‘Could you act out the dialogue?, ‘Can you do the face?”, “Just give us an idea of what the scream sounds like’. Instead, and hear me out, why don’t we just cast really good actors and craftsmen and (*with a little direction obviously) let them do what they’re paid for. I want that bit of magic, that look, that ad-libbed line, the joy of discovery. The unknown should be embraced not feared. I wonder where this fear has come from, this need to control every tiny aspect of the process? I firmly believe that commercial filmmaking is a craft but within that there are evidently artistic pursuits and disciplines that we have to trust.
The problem with this Brave New World where the traditional production company is being rapidly replaced by the in-house model is that the director is more often than not the new kid at school. That entails trying to figure out the internal politics and allegiances over a hasty Zoom call at the start of every job. In that situation one always wants to be more Slater than Macchio but it’s an awkward starting position nonetheless. It often leaves the director without any protection, fending off suggestions like mosquitoes on a hot afternoon. What I’ve come to realise is that many of those on the agency/client side are also onboard in a freelance capacity and they all want repeat employment so people stop sticking their heads above the parapet. Nobody wants to be seen to say no and yet everyone feels they should be heard. Maybe this is a symptom of the digital age where anyone can voice an opinion on anything at anytime. It has become fairly standard now to receive random notes throughout the process from people with whom I have had no interaction. I’ve never adhered to the belief that the director is some omnipotent creative genius who is always right but at some point you have to start asking “What exactly did you hire me for?”
Filmmaking is a collaborative process but as the director you are being paid for your opinion, your experience and your taste. Ultimately you are the filter through which all other voices flow. The final word. And yet in recent years I’ve had locations, wardrobe, extras, even cast changed without my knowledge before a shoot because someone with no previous input on the job had a different idea. I mean, if you wanted to direct by committee you should at least have written it in the small print.
As budgets (and fees) continue to fall at an alarming rate, I honestly thought that the one ray of sunshine would be a loosening of the reins, a willingness to be more creatively daring- necessity being the mother of invention, ‘the shark is not working’ and all that. But we seem to have gone in the opposite direction. Even the most bold and original scripts tend to get diluted down by the time we get to the set. I can only assume the damage is done from the plethora of fingerprints all over them.
Or someone whose husband just really hates tankards.
