But what of the writer, who bears the brunt of all this? Well, since the writers are getting paid, there are worse brunts to bear. But why doesn't the writer, who seems an indispensable part of the process, have more control? Some of this may be due to historical happenstance: Hollywood wasn't started by writers (who were of limited importance in the silent era). Mostly, however, it's because once production starts and the real money is being spent, writers recede into the background while the others take over in this strongly visual medium.
Directors control the look, the tempo, the feel of a film. Stars are perhaps even more significant, since, in the right parts, they're what the audience pays to see. Compare this to the power the writer has on the stage, where words live and the script is practically inviolable; or television, where more text is needed and less time can be taken in preparation, so writers with "producer" titles essentially run the medium.
So much for the business end of things.
How does the system affect the art? This is not easily answered. It's always dangerous to say how good or bad the art of any era is except in retrospect. Sometimes a Vast Wasteland turns into a Golden Age. (Otis Ferguson, a generally perceptive critic, wrote in The New Republic, "The film year has been about the leanest in seven"--in 1939, a year generally considered to be a high watermark for Hollywood.)
Film is a collaborative medium where the writer draws up the blueprint that a huge crew must then build. Or to overwork a different metaphor, the script may start out as the writer's baby, but it has to be adopted by the director, the actors, the cinematographer, the sound technicians, the composer, the editor, the costume designer, and many others for it to reach a successful maturity. Yet historically, the best Hollywood movies have often come about when someone had a vision and the control to see it through. This someone was frequently the director (Frank Capra, Howard Hawks, Ernst Lubitsch, Alfred Hitchcock), but could also be the producer (Irving Thalberg, Samuel Goldwyn, David O. Selznick), or the star (Buster Keaton, Fred Astaire, W.C. Fields).
There's no reason to doubt this still applies. Of course, everyone thinks they have "vision." Joan Didion herself has written ironically about stars and directors with "vision" who treat writers as the relatively minor people who merely put the words down on paper. So can development help? Sure. It can keep the story focused and prevent "visionaries" from bankrupting the studio with self-indulgence. And writers, as much as this hurts to admit, can fall in love with their words and may sometimes need a nudge to look at their script with more objectivity.
But the development process can also take the personality out of a film, turning it into formula. And Hollywood has a blockbuster mentality. There's a preference for the big, event movie: As Joe Roth, the current head of Disney films, has said, he'd rather make one $75 million picture than three $25 million films.
The urge to go for a home run is partly the result of economics (it costs roughly the same amount to promote and distribute any movie; big names and big stories, which are expensive, have bigger potential audiences here and overseas). Nevertheless, this has led to a bifurcation: Many of the more "serious" films come from independent sources, while the majors swing for the fence. This isn't necessarily a bad thing for the viewer, since there's still plenty of choice. (And thanks to technological advances, the average person--with a VCR--has a wider selection of movies at a cheaper cost than ever before.)
It's true such "serious" films might cut deeper than average Hollywood fare, but there's something to be said for major studio output. Taken as a whole, Hollywood still produces a fairly diverse amount of entertainment across any number of genres. And perhaps I'm the philistine, but many "art" films make me appreciate the zip and even vulgarity that Hollywood is able to provide.
Seventy years ago, screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz sent a famous telegram from Hollywood to then-journalist Ben Hecht: "Millions are to be grabbed out here and your only competition is idiots. Don't let this get around." Well, it got around, and nowadays more writers want to create the perfect three-act screenplay than the Great American Novel. Playwright John Guare has a blurb on the back of Monster--the book is a "perfect antidote for anyone delusional enough" to want a write a screenplay. I don't think it'll have that effect. As Dunne notes at the end of the book, through the eight years they worked on the film, he and Joan had a good time. And as maddening and absurd as the system seems, a lot of the excitement--and money--of working in the movies still comes through.
If Hollywood goes through some lean years, it's probably due for a shakeout in middle management, and the line may finally hold on the salaries of talent. But until then, though the system could use some reform, as long as it's not truly broken, and the people on top are making so much money and having so much fun, no one's going to fix it any time soon.
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