[QUOTE=bordelond]
Something that just ocurred to me, but that would likely have been obvious if I actually were in the industry – the importance of access to immediate re-writes. Directors and crews don’t stick to a script slavishly – things are passed back to the writers all the time on the fly, correct?
[/QUOTE]
There’s that, but it’s also important to know that those rewrites start well before production even begins.
Take a typical movie. At some point, there is a first draft of a script. (Maybe it’s a spec, i.e. something a writer wrote on his own and sold. Maybe it’s a commission, something the producers thought up and hired a writer to draft. Doesn’t matter. What’s important is that at some point in the process, a script appears.)
Producers, studio executives, talent agents, hyphenates (actor-producers), and various other management types now begin perusing said script, and making notes. Maybe the notes are minor, like, “need funnier gag on page 54.” Maybe the notes are major, like “punch up the third act,” or “add a sidekick character.” This lasts weeks, months, or years, as the management players turn over and the script gets passed from authority to authority. Every individual player wants to put his or her stamp on the material, so everybody has notes. Often, the original writer gets fed up, and “ankles” (to use Variety parlance), thus requiring the retention of a new writer, or writers. Occasionally (or, arguably, usually), the suits don’t really know what’s “wrong” with a script, so they sort of bumble around during this phase. For instance, they might dump the first writer, hire two new writers to separately take a crack at a new draft, and then hire a fourth writer to blend all three drafts together. Eventually, a director is hired and casting begins, and the Big Dog asks for another rewrite, to tailor the material to his or her sensibilities. Maybe the Big Dog is a director, who rewrites it herself. Maybe the Big Dog is a movie star, with a short list of acceptable writers.
Examples of this whole process in action: The third Die Hard movie started life as a proposed Lethal Weapon sequel (squint hard, and you can just barely see it). Also, the first Flintstones movie used more than fifty writers, most of whom received no screen credit.
The significant thing to know in all of this: Most of the time, the management types organizing the rewrites like to have the writer at their beck and call, easily accessible to be on site, face to face, for notes meetings. Only the most successful writers, or specialized, get to live somewhere other than Los Angeles and its environs. The suggestion in one of your earlier posts (which you then withdrew, but bear with me for the benefit of other readers) that all of this could be conducted remotely via electronic communications is not reflective of the reality of the industry. These start-up scab writers would have to be in L.A., full stop.
And besides, after the fact, how do these scabs leverage their experience? If the work is somehow conducted in secret, if the issues above are somehow solved along with the problem you noted about not identifying the writer to cast and crew, then that work doesn’t go on the scab’s resume, right? So as far as anybody is concerned, after the strike is resolved, he’s just another schmoe, with zero leg up. He can’t even claim to know any of the people he met while working, because that, in itself, will raise suspicions. (“Hey, how did you and Joe Exec get so buddy-buddy all of a sudden?”)
There’s lots and lots of reasons hiring scabs is a non-starter. They did try it in a previous writer’s strike (to write the soaps, as I recall), and the quality was so incredibly bad that viewers started abandoning the shows even faster than when the shows were in reruns. (See the second-season finale of Star Trek: Next Gen for an example of what happens when a script is created under non-normal circumstances.) Believe me, if writing were easy, the producers would be happy to do it themselves. They know they need the writers for their talents. But as acsenray says, this is not about a short-term business decision; this is a long-term strategy to weaken and eventually break the unions. The strike in 1988 was forced for the same reason, and got them a step closer to the goal (the writers were forced to accept a truly shitty deal); this is another attempt at further incremental progress.
Basically, the studios have billions of dollars in the bank (their own, or as backed by the parent conglomerates), and are in it for the long haul. The writers have mortgages and car payments, and can’t sustain a long strike. But the studios still have a responsibility to their shareholders (again, either their own or those of the parent corporations), and cannot torpedo their cashflow forever. They believe, however, they can last longer than the writers, which is why they forced this strike.
Despite the DGA’s new agreement, I don’t see this wrapping up any time soon. The studios will make a deal either when they believe they’ve made their point, or when the writers roll over and show their bellies, and not before then.