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ShareI’m a tad skittish about spending much time on the Hollywood writers’ strike because, although it’s in the world of entertainment, labor disputes generally tend to bore people into a coma.
Still, I’m taking a whack at it today because there’s not likely to be much progress for a long while, because viewers should know why the TV and movie universe is about to go haywire, and because I’m bitter. Really bitter.
Things should have been settled by now. Instead, it looks like the strike could last deep into spring after the studio/network alliance cut off talks last week, then sent out PR statements blaming the writers.
Both sides have made their share of angry, or ego-driven, decisions, and both have been arrogant and manipulative - I know, welcome to Hollywood. And to labor fights. But the latest move by the studios and networks was calculated to be destructive and just plain mean.
Still, that’s not what turned me deeply, seriously bitter. It’s because the meanness and arrogance have been so thorough, apparent and pathetic, that it’s taken another big chunk of the magic out of show business, and, yeah, I’m that naive, I still see some magic there. But this whole strike is the equivalent of learning that not just Santa, but his elves and even his reindeer, are self-serving, narcissistic jerks. That’d take some spark out of Christmas. (It’s not true, by the way. Santa is, by all reports, a good guy.)
Before I get too far into this well of despair, first a couple of caveats. I’ve met a lot of Hollywood writers over the years, and I like most of them. I’ve met plenty of TV execs, too, and I like many of them. Point is, lots and lots of people manning the front lines are decent folk. They got drafted into this war.
Also, both sides have professional negotiators working for them. That means neither is unarmed. It also means both are being led into battles they might not choose on their own. The pros make their livings, and their reputations, by crushing the opposition, not by finding smooth compromises. That explains at least a little of the jerkness.
Finally, I have a confession about the obvious. My natural sympathies are with the writers, because they’re, you know, writers. I, too, am a writer, not that you may have noticed, but I am.
Anyway, so here we are, mid-December - about six weeks into the strike - and TV’s about to get lame when new episodes dry up in January or so. Movies won’t look too different for a while, but the production pipeline has been fed nothing new, and that’ll show up about this time next year.
How’d it come to this?
One of the two big contentious points had been money that writers get for DVD sales - the current basic deal pays writers about 5 cents per DVD and was made in 1988, before there were DVDs. But the Writers Guild of America dropped that issue to focus on point two.
And that is, the money writers would get when shows they write are streamed, downloaded or sent off into the growing, morphing world of digital entertainment. Now, writers are paid, essentially, nothing for that.
The Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers - the umbrella group of studios and networks - says, however, that morphing digital world has made their profits smaller and more volatile, and that no one has yet figured out where it’s going. They say they don’t want to lock into a deal when things are so uncertain.
The fight seems understandable. Both sides are trying to read the future and get money out of it. No one wants to give up ground, because they know they’ll never get it back, not even years later. Exhibit A on that score is the DVD deal that burned the writers.
Just after Thanksgiving, the writers and studios resumed talks. In a world outside Hollywood and labor negotiations, the two parties would have gotten together, haggled, given up a little of this, a little of that, and the estimated 40,000 people put out of work - but not part of the strike - could have gone back to their jobs. And we could’ve gotten our Jon Stewart and David Letterman back.
But the studios had a game plan. They demanded writers take six issues off the table - issues not related to digital pay - or they’d walk from the talks. Which they did.
According to reliable reports and sources, they told writers they wouldn’t come back to negotiations until the writers capitulated on those six issues, which include the WGA’s attempt to represent reality and animation writers, and the removal of a clause that prevents writers from honoring other Hollywood strikes.
What the studios didn’t do was offer anything on the whole digital mess - although they had an offer ready, according to those reports. So in essence, they were asking the writers to give up a lot, just to keep talking. Then they accused the writers of stalling the talks. For the record, the writers, the day before, had said they were willing to sit at the bargaining table and keep working no matter what, even during the holidays.
As a power play, it was probably a strong move. But in terms of anything else, it was just cheap. The studios know the writers will probably give up all of those six demands - once they get something for their work going digital. They also know the writers can’t just give up those demands without getting something on paper about digital pay, because if they didn’t, they would have no bargaining chips left and would have to count on the sense of fair play by the studios (ironic tone intended).
So, in short, the studios set up the writers. They put them in a position where any move was a bad one, and anything they did would look like a sellout. It wasn’t necessary. The studios and networks could have ended the strike, gotten what they wanted, and let Hollywood start working again. You can see how this is only partly about money. It’s just as much about power and crushing the opponent.
Again, as with most labor strife, there’s plenty of blame to go around on both side. Leaders of the Writers Guild have bragged about changing the balance of power in Hollywood, and seemed determined to at least start a strike. And, compared with the real world, they are paid very well. Writing in Hollywood is hard, but it’s not delivering the mail, putting out fires, fighting crime, or teaching our kids. You can only be sympathetic so far.
Still, what they do is unique, and can be a source of joy for the rest of us. Same for the people who run the studios and networks. They make gads of money, but when they do their jobs well, our lives get a little better.
So that’s why I’m bitter. I want it all to stop. And here’s how I’d fix it, if I were in charge of, uh, everything:
First, I’d fire the professional negotiators. Then, I’d get a couple of the big power guys in Hollywood together, maybe Les Moonves, the chairman and CEO of CBS, Peter Chernin, the honcho overseeing Fox, and Warner Bros. boss Barry Meyer. I’d put them in a room with some smart, well-regarded writers, like a Marc Cherry or a J.J. Abrams or a Paul Haggis, or whomever else gets respect.
I’d get a couple big-deal talent agents to mediate - they have interests on both sides of the deal - and let them settle the thing.
That kind of move could easily be done, though it sounds like a real Hollywood ending - a few people stepping up to do a Gary Cooper and save the town. Sadly, it doesn’t look like anyone is stepping up or that this town is getting saved for a long, long time.
