Television

I couldn’t help but notice the significant production differences between the THRESHOLD pilot and their first, regular episode.

The pilot was filled with special effects, action, and  multiple interior and exterior locations. The first regular episode was considerably downsized. There were only two real locations — the "standing sets" (the sets/locations used every week) and a military academy (USC? UCLA?). Of the six member cast, four were stuck on the standing sets delivering exposition while two others were on location doing most of the "action,"  which was limited to running up and down hallways (one cast member otherwise relegated to standing sets was seen in a restroom that was supposedly at a fast-food place. The restroom was clearly a swingset built on the soundstage or a practical location found at the military acadamy which, I suspect, was also where they dressed as space to be the fast food place).

There were no special effects and virtually no exteriors,  save a couple of walk-and-talks and one scene in a parked car, which was shot so tight, with so many other parked cars in view, that I suspect it was shot outside the soundstage.   

I enjoyed the episode, but it was a lesson in the budgetary restraints that always come into play once the pilot, full of bells-and-whistles, is sold as a series. I’m sure there will be some effects-heavy/location-heavy episodes down the road (particularly during "Sweeps"), but to pay for them/amortize them, more often than not each week you will see a  clear balance between "standing set" scenes with the bulk of the cast members and one or possibly two other locations with the rest of the regulars.

I don’t think the average viewer registers the differences but, as a producer/showrunner, I always find it fascinating and instructive.  Why do you think the castaways on LOST moved from the beach into a cave? To give them a standing, interior  set.  Usually, just by watching a handful of episodes, I can get a pretty good sense of how many days they shoot, they budgeted ratio of days on stage/on location, the number of locations they can afford, and what their casting budget is like (in terms of number of guest cast in speaking roles as opposed to how much they have to spend on individual name actors).  Watching television is often the best way to learn about television.

I just got back from a pilot pitch over at CBS.  It went about as
well as you can hope for. I was happy, enthusiastic, and energetic in
the pitch and the execs we met with were laughing and engaged and
asking all the right questions. When we left, they thanked us for the
pitch and said it was "exhilirating," which is exactly the feeling we hope
the series — if they order a pilot script — will evoke. I don’t know whether or not
they’ll buy it, but at least I know we left a good impression that will
serve us well the next time we come in.

Speaking of pilot pitches, screenwriter John Rogers talks today about pitching TV series and working the room.

Remember what a pitch is for. You are a writer. If they were hiring you based on
your writing, then you’d know what the hell to do. Once you’re typing, you’re in
your element. But this is you convincing them to pay you to write the script.
The pitch has to be a very clean little description of an idea so intriguing,
they want to read the script for it. Yes, it has to make sense as a show, too,
but focus. Don’t let the pitch become bigger in your mind than it is.

In
its purest form TV pilot pitch addresses two questions: “Why should we put this
show on the air?” and “How will this show stay on the air?” *

Start, as always, with your hook.
Be it the high-concept pitch sentence, a vivid description of the opening shot –
PUNCH. No longer than a short paragraph.

I agree with almost everything he says in his post, though I think
he’s still coming at this like a screenwriter first, TV-writer second.
A series is 22 stories a year for five years. Personally, I wouldn’t recommend opening your pitch with the opening shot of the pilot. Nor do I think you should pitch the plot of the pilot. You’re pitching the series… the franchise…not
one single story (unless that opening shot is what sets up the entire
series, like, say aliens invading earth or the hero getting his
super-powers). I tend to focus on the story-engine (the conflicts and
situations that will drive every episode) short sketches of the
characters (who they are and how they relate to the franchise) and,
more than anything, trying to get across the feel of the show, so they have the visceral sensation of watching it as I’m pitching it (though without a specific plot or story).

If you boil your pitch down to the punchiest bits, you’ll find that you’ll be
able to move at a comfortable, confident clip regardless of reaction. If the
execs keep interrupting you to ask questions – well then, you should be so
lucky.

That’s great advice. In fact, John is loaded with great advice. If
you’re trying to get into the screenwriting or TV game, I highly
recommend frequent visits to his blog.

Want to know how to break into TV writing? Just ask the friendly folks at NBC.

The NBC promo department must have run out of things to say to draw viewers to new episodes of their shows. What other explanation can there be to explain this promotional tease for next week’s episode of SURFACE?

"The premiere was only the beginning."

Then again, I suppose it’s a bold promotional strategy, considering that for most new shows lately on NBC the premiere has also been the end.

Reading about Harley Jane Kozak’s TV meeting misadventures, I was reminded of a meeting Bill and I had many years ago with a Major TV Producer. We went in to pitch a series adaptation of a property he owned. We did our pitch and loved it. Said it was perfect, brilliant, incredible. Did we have any other ideas? We did. We pitched them. He nearly had an orgasm listening to them. He liked the ideas so much, that he wanted them all. He couldn’t wait to work with us and told us we’d found a home.

We called our agent immediately afterwards, still high on the thrill of such stunning success, and told him to  expect a call within seconds from the Major TV Producer to make a deal.  The guy didn’t call.  When our agent called him  and asked how meeting went, the Major TV Producer said "Eh, they didn’t really wow me."

The experience taught me to never believe anything that’s said in a pitch meeting. More than once I’ve been fooled by enthusiasm and big promises (or have totally misread what appears to be utter lack of interest and open hostility). So now, I try not to get excited or dispirited until I hear from my agent whether we’re negotiating a deal or not.

The Major TV Producer later became a Major Network Chief and, years later, called us in to meet with him and his executive team about rescuing a troubled series they had. I was hesitant about meeting him again, but we did it anyway. We went in and, after telling us he’d been fans of ours for years,  he asked us was what we thought was wrong with the show. We told him what wasn’t working and what we thought  should be done to fix it.  And he said: "That’s exactly what I told the showrunner before I shut down his show and took it away from him. But somehow, hearing it from you, I don’t like it."

Needless to say, we didn’t get the job.  He’s back to being a Major TV Producer again and sometimes I wonder if its possible to be a nice guy and still survive in this business…or whether the key to success is being a lying scum.

Some of 2005’s Emmy
nominees earn six figure paychecks for playing TV characters who earn considerably less.
careerbuilder.com reveals what police consultant Adrian Monk, NYPD Det. Olivia Benson, sportswriter Ray Barone, shrink Dr. Craig Huffstodt, attorney Alan Shore and other TV characters would probably make in real life.