I wrote this article way back in 1993, when my research business had been going five or six years. I was just getting on the Net. Some of the research methodology is out of date, but the needs remain the same.
–Paula B.
Information Brokering: Hollywood Style
By Paula Berinstein
Originally published in Information Broker, July-October, 1993
Are you tired of the same old competitive intelligence routine? Has niche marketing lost its je ne sais quoi? Are you having dreams about NAICS codes? Have I got a deal for you! Get ready to rub shoulders with vampires, superheroes, space aliens, monsters, terrorists, bandits, and giants of science, medicine, and politics. Hang onto your sense of humor and welcome to Hollywood.
I do research for the entertainment industry. It’s not exactly the kind of methodical, organized environment we information types like, but there’s never a dull moment, and let’s face it–creativity is messy. Where major events are often driven by will and whim, it’s no surprise that information is disorganized, underrated, and underappreciated. But it’s as much an asset in Hollywood as in Silicon Valley, and those who don’t know how to use it have sometimes found themselves out in the cold.
People rarely describe the entertainment industry as revolving around intellectual property, but it does. That makes it a murky, although interesting, place to work. Story ideas, rights and licensing, disputes over credits, and sometimes, filmmaking, are the stuff of daily life. It’s crucial to know what’s been done before, who owns the rights to what, and who thought of what first. Somewhere in the midst of all that nitpicking, words are put down on paper and interpreted and become films or plays or television shows.
One concept you must know in order to understand Hollywood is “the pitch”–that ubiquitous phenomenon of filmdom where story idea meets influential person. Do not think that the constant pitching in the movie “The Player” is an exaggeration. A studio employee was anticipating the annual Christmas party with great glee. “The food is going to be great,” he told me. “And everyone will be pitching story ideas.” Oh well. Since I help people develop ideas, some of those pitches keep me employed, so I can’t complain too much.
You also need to know that things are very “fluid.” Welcome to the twentieth rewrite by the fourth writer, who probably won’t get credit. There’s work for me there too. Each new writer needs to bring something fresh to the process. Sometimes they bring me.
Everyone wants to be a star here. I don’t. I’m a minor character, and I like it that way. My role is unique and exciting, full of variety and surprises. Much of the time I help writers and producers flesh out their ideas and make their work sizzle with realism, poetry, and drama. Occasionally I get to contribute ideas of my own. A lot of the time I hold hands.
When most people think of movie research they think of costumes and props and historical details, but if that were all there was to it, no information researcher could survive. Pay close attention to the next movie you see, and you’ll notice how important research is in ways you probably never thought about. Here are some examples:
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How does a particular agency of government work, or an industry? (I’ve researched the mainstream and tabloid presses, political parties, the Department of Health and Human Services, airlines, and detention homes.)
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What’s the lingo?
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What’s a typical day like?
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What’s normal, and what would be an exceptional occurrence in that business? (”Find me something really weird or funny or dramatic.”)
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How would a real person behave under a specific circumstance? (I’ve looked into the psychological phenomenon called habituation, the creative mind, phobias, and political maneuvering.)
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What believable technical language describes what a sci-fi character is doing? (I once edited techno-babble for “Star Trek,” including such arcane items as the proper weight for a granite figurine, given that it had to be carried in a duffel bag. The number in the script made it so heavy they would have needed a forklift.)
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What events or phenomena will liven up a character’s speech and help to make his point? (I was once asked for examples of man’s inhumanity to man. Another time I researched interesting bird habits so that a character could use a metaphor. Each project ended up as one sentence of dialogue.)
Of course, there is the occasional period piece. I might be asked to find facts surrounding the events of the movie. What did an historic figure really say in a touchy situation? (I was once asked to find out what went on in a secret meeting two hundred years ago.) What law excused a hostile witness from testifying in an important product liability case in the 1950’s? The writer might need realistic detail for setting the scene, such as songs being played on the radio, headlines of the day, popular books, and everyday oncerns. Set designers and prop people might want to know if there were public telephones at the time, or whether the inclusion of a particular medical apparatus would be anachronistic.
Which brings me to another important point: this business is visual. Film people think in images, so there’s a lot of picture research. A writer working on a period piece set in the 1950’s once said, “If you can’t get the details, just get pictures. I can write from the images.” Another routinely asks for videotapes to supplement printed sources and interviews in getting a feel for his subject.
Some of the work gets pretty weird. Like the time I needed to obtain an electric massaging chair. The solicitous concern for my back was fine, if misplaced, but when I told people I was also looking for matching electric massaging slippers, their voices went up a few tones. Or the time I had to call X-rated bookstores, movie theaters, and leather shops. (No connection with the chair or the slippers, and never mind what for. It was legitimate.) I once obtained a death certificate for a suspected murderer, and I’ve corresponded with officials at a federal penitentiary. Autopsy reports and bible passages alike are standard fare.
The sources I use are rarely specific to entertainment. Because anything can happen, one needs to consult everything from the yellow pages to the OCLC Union Catalog. My favorite source, which I use every day, is The National Directory of Addresses and Phone Numbers published by Omnigraphics. It lists federal, state, and local government agencies and personnel, educational institutions, corporations, media, commercial organizations, associations, and more. The Los Angeles Times, the online version, is an excellent tool for identifying movies, television shows, people, ratings, events, trends, and the like. I’ve used it more than once to date the entry of a specific phrase into common usage or to determine if a work has been made into a film or movie of the week. One of the best sources specific to the industry and a film researcher’s dream is Footage 89 and its supplement Footage 91, both published by Prelinger Associates. This godsend lists film and video libraries and collections and has, of all things, a subject index!
My specialty has its advantages and disadvantages. The work is incredibly interesting, but the money isn’t so great. The rates you can command are frequently lower than those for business, medical, and legal research. (Another film researcher charges about what my overhead comes to!) It’s hard to break in because most of the studios have research departments or use someone they already know. Since most projects never end up on the screen, executives are hesitant to spend money on development, which includes research. Even on sure things, the lion’s share of the budget goes for talent and special effects. Most writers don’t have the money to spend on research. Or they do it themselves. Or they don’t do it at all.
Fame is elusive. I may soon be getting my first screen credit in these six years, assuming the writer I’m working with isn’t replaced. My work is sometimes cut altogether during the rewrite process. But that’s show biz.
There are other advantages. Sometimes I’m mistaken for someone important and powerful. Once a messenger/actor delivered a packet from a production company and asked if I’d like to see head shots of him. The poor deluded fellow actually thought I could help him get a part. Every third phone call is someone asking for a job (I don’t have any) or a writer with a hot script who wants me to help get financing (I can’t).
At any rate, I’m glad it’s just one aspect of my business and doesn’t have much to do with my real life. Yes, you can live a real life in L.A., even if you’ve never written a screenplay. But just in case, I’ve got this hot script all ready….
(c) Paula Berinstein 1993