Within the film industry, there has been some fairly smug talk of late that high concept has replaced stars as the magic ingredient of most box-office bonanzas. Many in the media have lamented that Will Smith is the Last Movie Star, the only name that can consistently put butts in seats anymore. Seven Pounds hasn’t exactly burnished Big Willie’s credentials; domestically, it’s his first sub-$100M grosser since Ali in 2001. All this has been met with quiet schadenfreude from quotable studio peeps. It seems the money guys aren’t terribly upset that actors’ power might be diminishing, and quick.
Let us consider Exhibit A: The Jim Carrey Deal (all landmark events wind up in Capital Letters, right?). Much has been made of this admittedly flickering star’s agreement to forgo any paycheck upfront for Yes Man and defer his compensation to not even first-dollar participation in the back end, in what the indispensible Nikki Finke has reported “could just turn out to be the worst talent deal ever” and “a wet dream for Warner Bros.” That may be true, but is this a watershed moment in the deterioration of starpower in Hollywood?
Hogwash! We need movie stars more than ever. As Mark Harris wrote in Entertainment Weekly, “A movie star is someone whose past work enriches your experience of, and deepens your pleasure in, his or her present work.” Watching this person grow up as we have, for example, creates a unique if one-sided relationship with the person. Perhaps another criteria for being a star is, “someone you think you know, based on watching them onscreen, reading about them, etc.” Stalkers get fuzzy on the details, but that’s another story. The point is, as audience-members we clearly have a bond of sorts, in our imagination and our hearts, with particular stars.
One of the first such people I had an actual conversation with was James Woods. As a kid, I’d inhabited The Onion Field, Salvador and Videodrome like dreams. It was odd to meet the guy who played so many characters I grew up with. Though a complete stranger, his face was so familiar that it reminded me how strange it must be for actors to meet people who “know” them from movies or TV shows. This illusionary intimacy is part and parcel to any public figure’s life, but I don’t know how they ever get comfortable with it.
Do mainstream movie-watchers really care about building this affection for a professional actor? Will studios focus on high-concept stories, cycling through generation after generation of actors and discarding them as their contract demands get expensive? Should you write specs that are all concept, with one-size-fits-all character “types” any inexpensive actor could play?
NO. Pop culture has never been more star-driven. Entire fashion lines are operated out of the personas of characters played by movie stars. That isn’t new. The Thomas Crown Affair (1968 version) spawned styles for men and women with its charismatic stars’ image (Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway were, together, quite a presence). Look at the merchandising that goes along with tween hits like Hannah Montana. Even J-Lo has sold a ton of apparel and accessories. None of that is tied to a high-concept—it springs from a personal style.
In fact, in an increasingly multicultural, niche-riddled and diffuse popular consciousness, the people everyone seems to know are only gaining importance. In the 21st century, famous people ARE brands. Look at the effect of Steve Jobs’ health on Apple’s stock or Oprah’s importance to her multimedia empire. Mere mortals have the livelihoods of many thousands dependent on their heartbeats, an unsettling state of affairs for all parties involved. The sad truth is that famous people are already properties, constantly being diversified, mythologized and traded upon.
The currency of a movie star’s face and name is accepted in homes around the world. Will Smith’s films are discussed at Iowa dinner tables, welcomed in Hmong households and depended upon for date nights in Dubai. Who are we kidding? A movie star, like any trusted figure, is a valuable commodity and everyone knows it.
Recognize grumbling about stars being overpaid for what it is—propaganda, and a negotiating technique for contract talks. The conglomerates have a vested interest in seeing the price of talent—and thus, stars’ access to corporate coffers—DECLINE. The AMPTP, for example, has proven in union negotiations recent and long ago that they want to diminish the control of creatives over their balance sheets. Peter Jackson’s contested share of Lord of the Rings profits and the other hefty participation deals of recent years took a big chunk out of top hits’ revenue for their producers and parent companies.
So how did The Jim Carrey Deal turn out? At press time Yes Man is still in release, but its prospects of crossing the $100 million mark are uncertain. Considering that the budget was at least two thirds that much, even with another $70M or so from overseas theaters the picture is unlikely to be very profitable, when P&A costs are factored in. Then again, how much would the movie have made with an unknown in the starring role? This deal shoved the risk onto the talent’s side of the ledger and it looks like Carrey’s gonna get burned. Risk-averse financiers, rejoice! You’ve found a new way to cover your asses.
Should writers make high concept a priority when conceiving their next spec? Absolutely. But they should also write compelling characters with plenty of great dialogue that offers an actor a wide emotional range to play. In the age of the underlying property, the spec is as unfashionable as neon leg warmers. Yours is much, much more likely to attract financing if there is a shiny little movie star attached. It may seem heretical to screenwriting purists, but I suggest a couple of juicy monologues. This is what the star is going to have “their” writer add when you get replaced, anyway. Cut out the middleman, write actor-friendly parts and boost your chances significantly. Studios buy so few specs these days that being four-quadrant, high concept fare isn’t enough. Going in with a star attached is a lot more likely to get your spec sold than writing something “that doesn’t need stars.” Maybe the studios don’t need stars, but unproven writers sure do.
Stars aren’t going anywhere. The industry knows they need ‘em. Because the person behind the brand is what people relate to. “Nobody says, I love Universal movies, but Fox sucks.” (Well, okay, I know some people like that, but they are a distinct minority.) We’re all stretching our dollars more than ever before, so we’re only going to spend on stuff we trust. A car that lasts. An album with more than two good songs. And an entertainer who seems like an old friend, a reminder of better times.
Like James Woods. Love that guy.
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