THERE’S BEEN QUITE A BUZZ recently over the past, present and future of entertainment talent representation, with some of the conversation tangentially but meaningfully linked to the spotmaking business.
The present is embodied in the imbroglio between Michael Ovitz and Creative Artists Agency. The battle escalated when former CAA chieftain Ovitz, now head of the month-old Artists Management Group, wrested plum client Robin Williams away from CAA. In response, CAA declared that it would not serve as agent for any artist who enlisted Artists Management Group for talent management.
Some contend that Ovitz, the agent turned talent manager, has crossed the line of acceptable behavior by poaching from colleagues who once emulated and revered him. Others see twisted irony in CAA crying foul; after all, the talent agency’s know-all-the-angles, street-smart business practices helped it achieve dominant status in dog-eat-dog Hollywood.
Meanwhile, adland is quietly waiting to see if Ovitz might again eye the spot arena. It was Ovitz who initiated CAA’s foray into the commercial business; you may recall that the talent agency generated concepts (some packaged with CAA director clients) for Coca-Cola, beginning with a host of spots that debuted back in 1993. Now there’s preliminary conjecture that Artists Management Group could eventually become involved in the ad game.
That future prospect isn’t the only one in a hazy crystal ball. There’s been talk of rewriting 1930s’ regulations that govern talent agents and managers. Currently, talent managers are permitted to advise their clients on career decisions, but under California law and agreements with major Hollywood unions, only licensed agents can procure an actor employment in movies and television. Talent agents and managers frequently work together. But many agents, who earn a 10% commission, have contended for years that unlicensed talent managers, who earn 15%, are encroaching on their turf. State Assemblywoman Sheila Kuehl (D-Santa Monica) reportedly plans to draft a bill that would subject talent managers to the same regulations as talent agents.
Meanwhile, a look back at talent representation-partly chronicled in The Last Mogul, the expos authored by Dennis McDougal on former MCA power broker Lew Wasserman-is also generating industry chatter. MCA was originally a talent agency, wielding a powerhouse client roster. Mentions of Ovitz are sprinkled throughout the book, including one that cites his admiration and envy of Wasserman.
In casual banter over the past month, I’ve run across a number of commercial execs who’ve been reading the book, including Michael Romersa, head of the Stoney Road family of spot production houses. I had just begun The Last Mogul so Romersa was several chapters ahead of me when he mentioned an excerpt about Jack Benny, a performer whom MCA originally snubbed. But when Benny-with the help of the little known Lyons Agency-rose to radio stardom, MCA came a-calling.
MCA lured Benny away from Lyons, embracing a philosophy that, according to McDougal, was articulated by Wasserman on numerous occasions: "Let some other jerk build them. We’ll buy them."
Romersa said that when he read that line, he laughed because it represented the underlying philosophy of so many spot production houses when it comes to director procurement. A company breaks in a director, nurtures his or her talent and reputation, takes losses on initial jobs to build a reel only to have the rug taken out from under it by "a friendly competitor" just at the juncture that the director was positioned to generate serious revenue. And true to the do-unto-others credo, the house that was victimized can turn around and use the same means to secure a director from another company.
Wasserman, now 85, may have been the last all-powerful entertainment mogul. But the machinations of Ovitz and CAA-and the parallels to the frenetic commercial production house biz-suggest that there are still plenty of apprentice moguls to go around.
