The Demon-Haunted World
Sci-fi, studio executives, and you. A primer on plowing through the crap.
      by Kay Reindl

WHAT JOSS WHEDON DID RIGHT

How did Joss get it right? He cast James Marsters.

If you haven't already clicked over to the James Marsters photo gallery, if you're still with me, maybe you're wondering why genre material is so feared and misunderstood. Well, it's your fault. That's right. I think we can safely assume that the most ardent, passionate fans are genre fans. After all, nobody's made a documentary about the avid followers of Dawson's Creek, right? The Internet has allowed genre fans to congregate safely and to rise up and defend their show when necessary. It's allowed fans to create their own multiverses. It's allowed fan fiction to become so well-known that even show runners have heard of it. And it's also allowed writers, actors and producers to communicate with their audience. Is this a good thing, or does it completely suck? For an example of how good it is, look at Joss Whedon.

This guy did it right. He was open and accessible to the Buffy community right away. As far as I can tell, they freakin' adore him. This is a smart move on his part, because he can keep on top of the rumors, he can give people the straight scoop, and he can see how fans respond to certain things. I don't believe they demand anything of the guy, either. They don't order him to carry out their own agendas on the show. So God bless him. Other writers and producers look at the Internet as a hateful thing, a threat to their sanity, or a threat to their show. Unfortunately, this bleeds out into the multiverses and the fans perceive that a producer is either afraid of them or scornful of them.

We're still working out exactly what the 'net means to entertainment. It's actually generating entertainment now, instead of just talking about it. Still, the impact of the 'net on the genre has yet to be proven. This alternately makes people nervous and makes them greedy. People who love the genre and people who work in it and create it are embracing the 'net, because it gives them an opportunity to do something that's never been tried. They can explore ideas in a new medium. Science fiction and fantasy has always been about moving forward and the Internet affords the genre the latitude to continue doing that.

So now you think those who want to create good genre fare just get their teeth kicked in, right? Unfortunately, no. It's the nature of the business.

A LITTLE BIT ABOUT TV -- WHAT YOU DON'T SEE

David Lynch's Mulholland Drive.

In the past two years two Fox series, Hollyweird and Manchester Prep, both ordered for the eight o'clock slot on Thursdays, never made it to the air. And in the past year, there have been exposes on two troubled shows. The New Yorker did a woefully sad piece on David Lynch's ABC pilot Mulholland Drive, a pilot in which trouble was created. The LA Times published Freaks and Geeks' show runner Judd Apatow's season-long diary. If you read either of these pieces and you still want to create a show, good for you. If you've gone insane and run away, I understand.

So what the hell happened? In the case of Freaks and Geeks, nobody watched the show. They tuned into the pilot but for whatever reason (I dunno... stupidity?), they didn't come back the next week. No matter how much a network loves a show, if the audience doesn't love it the network will start getting very nervous. Why? Because in the backs of their minds, the executives start wondering if the show's really any good. A bad timeslot, pre-empting the show, moving it or giving it a hiatus probably has nothing to do with the shrinking viewership. Right? Of course not. It can't be any of those things, because then the network would be culpable. In the case of Mulholland Drive, David Lynch wrote a typically twisted Lynchian mystery and ABC took the Lynchian out of it. This left nothing. All of Lynch's visual style was gone, and so was the pilot. In the New Yorker article, Lynch said he would never do TV again. I almost wanted to never do TV again just out of solidarity.

Manchester Prep Hollyweird

It's rare that a series is ordered and never makes it to the air. So how the hell could two Fox shows get orders for thirteen episodes and then be canceled before they even air? Somebody has to have screwed up, right? There's no way the network and the studio would put all that money into a project and then pull the plug. That's insane. I think even the network would agree with that, but it still happened. The short version is, the network buys something and then when they get it home, they get buyer's remorse. They wonder what they were thinking when they bought it. It looked good in the store. So why does it look so different at home? This was the case with Hollyweird and Manchester Prep.

And for the life of me, I can't tell you who was culpable for either show. I don't think anyone can. On any given day, there is a different villain and you're just convinced you've figured out the problem child. But the next day there's a new problem and probably a new executive to deal with, an executive who has the complete opposite sensibility of those you've been dealing with. I'm sure there's something more beleaguered than a writing staff in this type of situation, but not in Hollywood. As a writer, your job is to give the show runner what he asks for. And as a show runner, your job is to give the network what they ask for. Your studio is there to protect you. This is the best-case scenario.

The now-canceled Freaks and Geeks, proving once again that only the good die young.

It's almost impossible to pinpoint the exact moment when everything went wrong. There may not even be one specific moment. It's easier to solve Fermat's last theorem than track the demise of a show. Buyer's remorse is filtered through every note the network gives. But it is rarely consistent. There's always a different problem, there's always a different executive who's been brought in to try and save a troubled show. There's never a moment when a show goes from fine to troubled. All of a sudden, one day the word at the network is that a show has problems. If you are writing on the staff of a show that is considered troubled, the first minute you hear that you pack your stuff and get the hell out of there. Nobody can save a troubled show because nobody can define precisely what the word means. Since the studio is socking money into the show, it's their job to try and save it. The studio may be extremely loyal to its creative team but this loyalty is always surpassed by the studio's loyalty to the money that's flying out of its pockets.

Sometimes, network executives love the idea of saving a troubled show. If they aren't fond of that, they are very fond of damning a troubled show. Fall guys are sought. Patches are made. And everyone involved gets very, very paranoid. So the worst thing that can happen is that your show is considered troubled. The next thing that should make you pack your stuff and leave, if you haven't already, is if the studio or the network shuts down production in order to fix "creative problems". This is never good. A show can't come back from that. The network now thinks the show's a headache, quickly on its way to becoming an embarrassment. The studio is frantically trying to get its money out of the project, since they're footing the bills. At this point, nobody is communicating. There's no information flowing from the network or the studio to the show. There may even be internal memos sent around the network as executives try and use the beleaguered show to advance their own careers. No matter what's done after this point, the show doesn't have a chance. It's already known as a troubled show, an embarrassment, a mess, a waste of money.

Now the network tries to feel the studio out to see how much of a penalty they should pay for completely ruining a show that could have worked in the first place. If you still haven't packed and left, you are in some serious denial. So why can't everyone recognize the end is near? Because somewhere in the hearts and minds of writers and producers is the conviction that they can deliver. They're good at what they do. They're experienced. They can do this. And no matter how many times it happens, this belief will always exist. You can't please every single executive at the studio and the network. You just can't. It's when you try that you become vulnerable. There's very rarely a winning scenario here. It costs a lot of people a lot of money. Shaun Cassidy, who created all versions of Hollyweird (and there were many), bounced back with his USA show, Cover Me. And Roger Kumble, the creator of Manchester Prep, has gone back to the rollicking world of feature films. People bounce back.

GETTING YOUR MOJO BACK

Still want to run your own genre project? You might want to get in line with Nowhere Man's Thomas Veil for your straight-jacket fitting.

So how do you bounce back? If you're folded, spindled and mutilated by the process of film or TV, just how do you ever reconnect with your inner you? The best way is to be too stupid to realize people are trying to kill you. If you can naively float through the carnage, you'll be better for it. Unfortunately, you learn things along the way that make you less naive the next time. Although navigating through the crap and learning the politics is crucial, you need to go back to what made you do this in the first place. Because hopefully, it isn't just the money. And it can't be the glory. It isn't arcs or hero's journeys or the seven stories or bells and whistles or denouements.

It's the plane chasing Cary Grant.
It's Jimmy Stewart's rear window.
It's Dick Powell getting off a train.
It's Audrey Hepburn with her coffee and pastry.
It's a blonde Barbara Stanwyck and a wicked Fred MacMurray.
It's a furry creature on the wing of a plane.
It's David Janssen leaving town.
It's Patrick McGoohan not leaving town.
It's Hayley Mills as twins.
It's Gloria Swanson getting ready for her close-up.
It's Sal Mineo and his mismatched socks.
It's Rosebud.
It's Harry Palmer, Bond and Flint.
It's Dorothy Gale.
It's Mr. Orange, Jett Rink, Luke Skywalker, Indiana Jones.

It's the writing, stupid.

Kay Reindl co-wrote some of Millennium's most acclaimed episodes, including "Midnight of the Century". The 11th Hour interviewed Kay for its second issue last July.

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