|
|
|
|
|
Animation writers get no residualsye olde debate begins again.
The L.A. Times does an article about how animation writers in Hollywood get shafted over residuals. But what's really going on?
(Source: L.A. Times) In terms of pecking order, writers are the lowest form of life in Hollywood. Based on the reports of people like Neil Gaiman (The Goldfish Pool and Other Stories) and Harlan Ellison (Harlan Ellison's The City on the Edge of Forever), writing in H'wood is a never-ending sequence of "proving your talent to people who have none." Writers are the first to have their work shredded, and the last to get paid. Every year, papers like The Hollywood Reporter, Variety or The L.A. Times take it in turns to write about the peculiar plight of the animation writer. You know, the schmuck who puts words in Lightning McQueen or Nemo's mouth. This time around, it's the L.A. Times' turn. What's their gripe? Apparently, unlike every other writer, animation writers get zero residuals from their work. What are residuals? Residuals are the percentage of profit paid out when a movie goes to TV, video or DVD. Now we're talking miniscule percentage points here, but when it's for something like Finding Nemo or Shrek 2, that can add up to some serious money. But, unlike writers for live-action films, the animated writer sees none of it. Here's The L.A. Times' illustration: two writers, one writing for Austin Powers: Goldmember, the other for Shrek 2. Goldmember makes $213 million in theatres and does well on video. Shrek 2 makes $436 million (the 3rd highest-grossing movie of all time) and sells 200 million DVD's in North America alone. Guess what? The Goldmember writer made a couple of hundred thousand dollars more than the Shrek 2 writer. Not only that, animation writers have no union like the Writers' Guild of America to go to bat for them. The closest they have is IATSE Local 839, which until recently was considered "worse than no union whatsoever." How did this sorry state of affairs come about? Up until the 1990's, there weren't really any scriptwriters for animated movies. Generally, the animators and storyboard artists developed the story and the writer gave it the final buff-and-polish. So, according to conventional wisdom, the animation writer didn't deserve to get paid as much for his efforts. That was Walt Disney's attitude, and no one saw any reason to change it. The first whiff of change happened when writer Don Bluth, frustrated with Disney's screenplay-last attitude, left The Mouse House in the 1970's. Bluth formed his own company, which cranked out 1982's The Secret of NIMH and 1986's An American Tail, both films with a script-first attitude. Fast-forward to 1989, when Ron Clements and John Musker went script-first with The Little Mermaid and proved there was still gold in them thar animation hills. That ushered in the John Lasseter/Jerry Katzenberg era at Disney, when script trumped storyboard, leading to hits like The Lion King and Toy Story. But the poor animation writer, unlike his live-action counterpart, still didn't see any profits from the lucrative home video/DVD market. Doesn't seem fair, does it? So why does animation writer Mark Evanier (Groo the Wanderer, Dungeons & Dragons) tell a slightly different story? Apparently, animation writers *do* get residuals from their work, but on a case-by-case basis. It's like everywhere else in H'wood: you're fine as long as you have a good reputation, and a better agent. Most often, an agent will negotiate a residuals contract if he or she can. So The L.A. Times story isn't quite accurate. Evanier goes even farther, and says these well-intentioned stories can actually do more harm than good. Back in 1985, he was receiving Writers' Guild residual rates for the animated show CBS Storybook, thanks to some smart negotiation from his agent. When Variety ran a similar piece, a bean counter at CBS said, "Hey! Animation writers don't get residuals! We don't have to pay this Evanier guy a dime!" Cue Evanier's agent, doing his best dragon impression, and Evanier got his residuals back. Here's Evanier's take: "Financial negotiations in show business are largely a matter of precedents. How much they pay you for a job has almost everything to do with how much others have been paid for comparable gigs. If (reporters) keep saying, "Animation Writers don't get residuals," you're telling the industry that's the norm, that's standard. In truth, more cartoon scripters than ever are sharing in the ongoing value of the shows they write, and I don't know why the WGA isn't trumpeting that fact from the highest of the Hollywood Hills." Both Evanier and The L.A. Times agree that there's a massive battle brewing between the WGA and the studios over DVD profits. As Evanier puts it, "I think this town is heading for The Mother of All Strikes as the guilds demand a better deal for home video and the studios pursue their wish-dream of sharing nuttin' with nobody." Evanier suspects the idea of residuals for animation writers could become a vehicle for horse trading: the WGA drops that demand in exchange for another concession from the studios. In which case, animation writers will be looking to their agents to get them what's theirs. And agents will twist any arms they can in order to get those precedents in place.
The copyright of the article Animation writers get no residuals in Animated Films is owned by Dominic von Riedemann. Permission to republish Animation writers get no residuals in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.
|
|
|
|