There’s a great story about a producer who, in an effort to strike up a relationship with a director he was interested in, attended religious services in order to get close to the talent. The "newly-converted" exec not only didn’t find God; but also failed to get his directorial prey—proof, perhaps, that there is some justice in this world.
Michael Bodnarchek, co-president of A Band Apart Commercials, Los Angeles, recounts another tale he heard about a certain producer. If he spots a director he’s interested in while at a restaurant, the producer will take out a hundred dollar bill, write his number on it, and hand it to the director.
"As far as a code of ethics, industry-wide, I don’t know if there is such a thing," says Bodnarchek. "It’s a very competitive business, and you have to be very aggressive if you want to win."
Those anecdotes describe the length to which some are prepared to go in pursuing directors. But while many may rue the lack of etiquette that producers display in wooing talent, the fiercely competitive climate is often the justification for ethically questionable behavior. And make no mistake—directors who break contracts to seek greener pastures can be equally or more culpable. It’s survival of the fittest—which has come to mean, for some, that anything goes.
At the same time, it’s perhaps unfair to single out the spot industry. "Talk to a doctor or someone on Wall Street, and ask them if they don’t think business has become a little more cutthroat," says Steve Shore, owner/executive producer of bicoastal Shelter Films. "They’ll say that loyalty doesn’t count for what it used to. I don’t think we’re any different from society at large."
Citing the preponderance of dot-com job search companies, Michael Romersa—owner/president of Santa Monica-headquartered Stoney Road, the parent to several production houses (bicoastal Bedford Falls, Reactor Films and M-80; Santa Monica-based MPH and Message)—observes that today’s young culture supports a job-hopping mentality. "I think the younger generation doesn’t expect to be at one company for a lifetime," says Romersa. "They don’t expect to retire in twenty years from the same company—be it a commercial company or IBM. They expect to have a bunch of jobs, and they’re like fish: constantly moving, looking for another opportunity."
Forces within the industry have also conspired to create an environment radically different than the one people faced 10 years ago. There are more companies and more directors than ever, but they’re chasing after work that hasn’t grown in proportion to the talent pool. "The guys who are repeat business directors have become more and more valuable as a result," says Dave Morrison, co-head of commercials at Anonymous, the bicoastal production house launched last year by Steve Golin, founder/former chairman of bicoastal/international Propaganda Films. "They can cut through the growth and clutter in the marketplace, which is a very valuable thing. As a result, it’s gotten to be a very predatory environment."
Smoke and mirrors
In that vein, SHOOT has had to carefully sift through the rumor mill. It’s not uncommon for a company to start a rumor that a director it covets is looking around for a new roost—even if he or she is not. This can serve to start a rift between the director in question and his/her current company, making the helmer more susceptible to being poached. "Spreading rumors helps propagate what they [poachers] want," says Frank Scherma, proprietor/executive producer at bicoastal/international @radical.media, who relates that one of his own directors was the recent subject of such a false rumor. "That’s part of the non-etiquette."
But by and large, Scherma believes most people in the industry respect each other’s relationships with directors. "I don’t think there’s a large group of poachers," says Scherma, "but there is definitely a group of them."
David Zander, principal/executive producer at Los Angeles-based Morton Jankel Zander (MJZ), doesn’t consider himself among the poachers. "You might see someone’s work," explains Zander, "and say [to the director], ‘Hey, I think [your work is] great; I’d love to meet you because you never know what’s going to happen in the future.’ But that’s rare; it takes a lot to get moved nowadays. There are a lot of people out there, and a lot of them are doing pretty good work. To really see someone who does great work—it’s hard to find.
"I’d just want [the director] to know who we are," Zander continues, "and I’d like to know who they are. And that’s it. I wouldn’t try to induce them to leave; I’d simply say, ‘If the day ever arises where you’re not happy, I want you to know who I am.’ I’m not interested in stealing anyone."
President/executive producer Steve Dickstein of bicoastal/international Partizan says he tends to form relationships with directors based upon his regard for their work. "My goal is to have an orbit of interesting talents in my professional life, which may or may not grow into more substantial relationships or a connection with the company," says Dickstein. "It’s not simply prospecting the relationship because I’m going to pull the trigger and go in for the kill at a certain point. It’s much more [a matter of] putting feelers out so that when directors do consider their options, they would be comfortable enough to talk about the opportunities I might be able to present them."
The timing of directors’ contracts doesn’t enter the equation, Dickstein says, when he forms relationships. He talks no differently to someone at the end of a deal than to someone who’s just signed a three-year commitment: "If I liked the director, I’d still want to have them in my professional life."
Bodnarchek also sees the value in forming relationships with directors who may one day leave their roost. "You never know what’s going to happen in the future," says Bodnarchek. "If you look at trends, most directors never stay at one place forever. So it’s [a matter of] making that relationship and then keeping it as you go."
Bodnarchek is forthcoming about the ways he and others strike up relationships with directors: talking to them at industry functions, or tracking them down via their DPs, business managers, lawyers or film agents. He says that Scott Feinstein, president/CEO of Encino, Calif.-based accounting firm Feinstein & Berson, is a business manager for many commercial directors, and a regular conduit to talent. "I’ll get a call from [Feinstein] saying he’s sending over a reel, or that one of his directors wants to talk to me," says Bodnarchek. "I know for a fact that reps and other companies check in with him to see which directors are looking."
Feinstein, who has negotiated contracts for about 150 spot helmers, says he doesn’t send out reels until a director has given notice to his current company or is at the very tail end of a contract. "I don’t think it’s fair to go behind a production company’s back," says Feinstein. "I admit it goes on all the time, but I try to stay away from that."
There are many ways of going about it, says Bodnarchek, who draws the line at calling a director at his production office, which he considers "completely unethical." He says that some directors get offended when they are contacted in such a manner.
Many company owners are also bothered by this type of prospecting. Shore says there have been many occasions when he’s seen the work of promising directors, and thought their production companies didn’t understand the talent they had on their hands. "But am I going to track that guy down at his hotel room and breathlessly say that I’ve always admired his work? No, I don’t think I will," he says. "Speaking for Shelter, I find the practice of stealing directors repugnant, and never have and never will do it."
Lisa Cobb, founder/president of Dallas-based Concrete Productions, doesn’t buy the argument that such stealthy maneuvers can be explained away as being "just business." "Business is when one company approaches another company they’re interested in, and they talk and negotiate. What you usually don’t have [in business] is somebody stealing away in the night, and somebody trying to underhandedly lure something away," she says.
From Feinstein’s vantage point, there is no etiquette for soliciting directors. "There seems to be minimal hesitation for an executive producer to call up a director and say, ‘I want you … let’s talk,’ or ‘I’ll pay anything to get you,’ or ‘Your company is not doing the job; I can do better.’ It is a financially driven business in which directors create significant profits; they are the commodities. And you do what it takes to get that product in your company."
Between Friends
Cobb agrees that directors are a company’s assets, and says that Concrete works hard to nurture relationships with its directors. It takes a lot of money and a few years to get someone’s career going, and Cobb says "it’s frustrating when you start to reap the rewards, and all of a sudden everybody starts swooping down."
Out of loyalty, some execs will not approach any directors at friends’ companies. Stavros Merjos, president of bicoastal HSI Productions, says there’s a few people with whom he maintains this hands-off policy. Among them is Bruce Martin, former president of bicoastal RSA USA, who now heads up the commercial division at Los Angeles-based No Prisoners.
"If you’re really friendly with someone that’s an owner of another company, how can you do that? It’s just not a comfortable thing to do," says Merjos.
Such "gentlemen’s agreements" may be fairly common, but they are not always honored, according to Tom Mooney, managing director at bicoastal Headquarters. In the past year, Mooney recounts, he has experienced instances in which supposed friends tried to raid his company. "Without mentioning names," says Mooney, "I can say I’ve been disappointed recently by people I thought were my friends. Maybe it’s my own stupidity … but I have to reevaluate if I’m truly friends with them or if it’s just a business association."
Dickstein observes that while everyone would prefer not to tamper with any of their friends’ directors, it is a tough rule to follow in a finite industry. "If a director has started talking to a bunch of companies," says Dickstein, "it’s hard not to pursue them. It’s a hard line to toe."
Morrison also contends there are some directors he won’t actively recruit. "It’s not worth it," says Morrison. "But if so-and-so who’s a friend of mine has a director who is not happy where he is, and that director is calling me with an eye towards moving, I’ll talk to them. Then I think it’s all fair, because if it’s not going to be us, the director will end up somewhere else."
Morrison adds that the contingent of directors Anonymous has signed from bicoastal/international Propaganda Films and Satellite (including David Fincher, David Kellogg, Gore Verbinski, Jeffery Plansker, Malcolm Venville and Andrew Douglas) approached him because they were unhappy. All had existing relationships with Morrison from his former days as Propaganda’s director of commercial development.
Scherma concurs that he and many of his colleagues don’t go after certain directors, but will get a number of calls from helmers. "I’ll tell the director that we don’t want to be the impetus for his leaving. If you’ve left that company and then you want to talk to us, we’ll sit down and talk. I think most people deal with directors who’ve decided to go, as opposed to calling directors."
Joni Sighvatsson, chairman/CEO of Los Angeles-based Palomar Pictures and a founding member of Propaganda, says, "I feel pretty strongly that I don’t want to be stealing directors. In the early days when I was at Propaganda, maybe it was different. I wouldn’t say I mollified my point of view; back then, I’d say there wasn’t a point of view."
He agrees that it makes sense to talk to a director only if he is "in play." But, he points out, sometimes it is everyone except a company’s owners who are aware that their director is on the hunt. "Sometimes it’s hard for directors to tell people that they want to leave, for various reasons—not [necessarily] because they’re deceptive," comments Sighvatsson. "It’s an emotional thing."
spot law
Emotional or not, it often happens that a company owner is the last to know. Romersa says he’s been unpleasantly surprised to learn that directors have begun looking when their contracts with him were coming due. "They decide to shop around to see what their value is in the marketplace," says Romersa. "That offends me greatly, and I actually asked one director to leave the company because of that."
"If the rumor is out on the street that someone is looking, it’s usually true," says Cobb. "It’s always your reps calling you to say that so-and-so is looking around."
"I really admire and respect the directors who say, for whatever reason, that it’s time for them to move on and let’s work through it," continues Cobb. "There are times when it’s aboveboard. But usually the company is the last to know; it’s like the wife being cheated on."
Cobb, in fact, instigated litigation with a former Concrete director who left and broke his contract; a choice that she says sickened her to have to resort to. Ultimately, the case was settled before trial and Cobb received a judgment. "The guy wouldn’t even sit down at the table to talk," says Cobb. "I did win, but it’s very negative and draining."
While litigious action is still not the norm, it is cropping up more than it used to. Bicoastal HSI Productions was sued by Santa Monica-based F.M. Rocks, which alleged that HSI induced director Paul Hunter to breach his contract and come to HSI (SHOOT, 3/5/99, p. 1). In May ’99, a jury ruled in HSI’s favor (SHOOT, 5/21/99, p. 1). More recently, A Band Apart has been involved in a legal dispute over the status of director Nico Beyer, who allegedly signed a contract with A Band Apart despite having an apparently viable contractual obligation at New York-based Compass Films (SHOOT, 10/1/99, p. 1).
"[Beyer] is an untruthful person; he plays games," claims Bodnarchek, who believes they’re close to a settlement. As earlier reported, Beyer refuted A Band Apart’s contentions (SHOOT, 12/17/99, p. 1).
The court case that some regard as an industry precedent occurred six years ago, when director Irv Blitz broke his contract and left Santa Monica-based Stiefel+Company in August ’93 to join MJZ; Blitz’s Stiefel contract ran through ’95. After a U.S. District Court initially ruled that Blitz violated his contractual obligation and issued an injunction preventing the director from working at MJZ (SHOOT, 2/18/94, p. 1). The case was ultimately settled out of court separately with Blitz (SHOOT, 7/1/94, p. 1) and MJZ (SHOOT, 10/7/94, p. 1). The settlements freed Blitz to join MJZ.
Many praised Stiefel+Company president Frank Stiefel for the stand he took to defend not only his investment in talent, but the validity of the production company’s contract with the director. (Stiefel didn’t respond to SHOOT’s repeated requests for an interview for this article.)
Zander recounts that he met Blitz when they were seated together on a flight to New York; Blitz subsequently called and said he wanted to join MJZ. According to Zander, "[Blitz] really did believe he was free and clear [to leave Stiefel]."
Such cases beg the question of how binding contracts really are. On one hand, Cobb says, "your contracts need to mean something—otherwise there’s no point in having them. They’re the only [means] the company has of protecting its interests and its investment."
Sighvatsson says he believes in contracts as a business administration tool to maintain stability and discourage directors from walking out, but not as a way "to keep people chained," adding that creative people have to be comfortable to do good work.
Most companies, says Feinstein, don’t want to force an unhappy director to stay. "A director can create a lot of havoc by badmouthing the company they’re with, or just by being difficult," he notes. "They can butcher a job if they really wanted; a director has a tremendous amount of control. In my experience, a lot of directors will say a company wants them to sign a two-year deal, but ‘what if?’ Well, the what-ifs happen all the time. I try to solve the what-ifs."
To that end, Feinstein relates, about half of the contracts he’s drafted for directors are straight one-year deals, and the other half are two-year contracts with an option to leave after a year. Says Feinstein, "Frankly, you don’t get a lot of directors who say, ‘Screw you—I’m moving on because I’m a big star.’ Not in the middle of a contract. It’ll happen at the end of a contract."
Merjos is unusual in that he doesn’t have formal contracts, and doesn’t believe in working with directors who don’t want to work with him. "Most companies are too insecure to do that, but I’ve always felt that way," says Merjos. "I’m very secure with the way we handle people’s careers; I don’t worry about losing guys. If you do right by someone, you’re not going to lose him."
The notion that a good offense is the best defense seems to be the ultimate solution to the poaching problem. "A working director is a happy director," adds Morrison.c
