Before long, you may see some of Hollywood's most established directors following Nolte's and Allen's cue. With studios now viewing the mid-level, Oscar-nominated director as a luxury they can no longer afford, established auteurs like Barry Levinson, Adrian Lyne, and Richard Donner are facing increasingly stiff competition from slick young music-video turks who'll work for a mere pittance. "It's cutthroat," moans one agent. "Studios just don't want to pay [directors $5-7 million]. They're giving so much away to actors that the whole world is becoming very strained." Consequently, a writer-turned-director like Michael Cristofer (HBO's Gia), who earns below $5 million, has a few directing projects lined up, including New Line's upcoming Body Shots. Cristofer believes the secret to his employability is his frugality: "Established directors have an arrogance about how big their budget is," he says. "But $15 to $20 million seems almost luxurious to me."
When it comes to Hollywood's scribes, the script's only slightly different. Studios still won't stint on top-echelon writers like Ron Bass, who penned My Best Friend's Wedding (and has a deal at Sony worth up to $10 million a year), but seasoned screenwriters are losing out to less experienced counterparts. "If you've got a [top-tier] guy who makes a million and delivers movies, he'll get loads of offers," says an ICM agent. "But if you've got a guy in the middle who gets from $250,000 to $600,000, you're in deep s---."
As for producers, the trickle-down effect has become a deluge — they're practically an endangered species. Variety reports that some 72 production deals have been terminated since June 1998. "Producers who feed off the studio trough by drifting from studio to studio are finding that trough empty," says Peter Abrams, whose Tapestry Films spent its own money developing the Miramax hit She's All That after Disney canceled Tapestry's deal.
But the real victims of Hollywood's recession are its working-class heroes. The industry's craftsmen are being hurt not only by having fewer and fewer movies to work on but by an increase in overseas productions. According to a recent survey, 24 movies with budgets of more than $25 million were shot outside the U.S. in 1998, compared with none in 1990. The rationale for foreign production is the bottom line. Disney saved $8 million shooting John McTiernan's The 13th Warrior in Vancouver, B.C. Warner reportedly socked away more than $20 million by filming The Matrix in Australia, where Paramount is now shooting Mission Impossible 2.
This movie migration has hit the predominantly L.A.-based craft talent hard. Cinematographers who once earned $12,000 a week are now being offered $8,000 to $9,000, and costume designers who earned $5,000 to $7,000 a week for a studio film are being asked to take $2,000 less and work six days a week instead of five. "Without exception, below-the-line people are being asked to take pay cuts," laments an agent who reps production talent. "Even on big pictures, studios lowball."
And it won't be long before this scrimping shows up on screen. "There is such belt tightening that shooting schedules [are] unrealistic," frets producer Ned Dowd (Wonder Boys). "Studios are almost setting things up for failure." But for Hollywood there's no turning back. Says producer Mark Johnson (Home Fries): "Studios want it both ways now. They want better movies for less money." Yes, unhappy days are here to stay.
