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WELCOME TO INDIEWOOD

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Welcome

Welcome to Indiewood. Indiewood doesn’t have a geographical location, but it does have a place: It exists outside the Hollywood studio system. Sure, in the past, Hollywood has dabbled in Indiewood, but those mini-majors (Sony Pictures Classics, Focus Features, etc.) are just little versions of the big distributors. When I talk about Indiewood, I mean truly making a film from scratch and then trying to sell it to one of those big Hollywood distributors for a theatrical release.

Indiewood is where I live. It’s how I support my wife and two kids, and how I pay for my house and cars. I have friends in the Hollywood system who make double or even triple the money I do per year, but, for what it’s worth, they respect the hell out of me and want to be doing what I do.

What I do is risky, exciting at times, mostly difficult, and has so many ups and downs it can be compared to crack addiction. As Indiewood producers, we are all “chasing the crack high” — that great feeling you get when a film is financed and you are in production. There’s a little bit of a high in preproduction, and a little bit of a high in postproduction (sometimes), but the time where you are loving life 24/7 is when you are shooting.

Granted, there are tough times during production and disasters happen (we almost blew up an entire block in Spencerport, New York, when we were filming The Alphabet Killer), but production generates a feeling that I cannot explain — you have to experience it for yourself. Everything is so fantastic until production ends.

Then reality hits and you have to sell a movie and make money. If the film makes money, you can use your private equity investors to do another film. If the film doesn’t make money, you just burned your investors and you better start looking for new ones.

This is a world where everyone talks a great game. All the players have various projects in different stages of development, but most (and I’m talking north of 90%) are just “chasing the high.” They’re not gonna get there.

Technology, especially the recent advent of digital cameras that cost next to nothing and produce amazing results, has opened the floodgates. Any wannabe filmmaker with $25,000 can make a movie that has the potential to look good. The unfortunate side effect is that, 99% of the time, these movies are very bad, and they impose a negative stamp on the indie film world. They tell an investor, “Invest in independent films, and you’re gonna lose money.”

In Indiewood, budgets range from $300,000 to $8 million. A viable movie can be made for $300,000. Going over $8 million would be foolish; at that point, you should just work with a studio. But these movies that fall within this range are not made by students and are not cheaply done. They have union crews (as many as can be afforded), always deal with the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) (never make a non-SAG movie), most of the time deal with the WGA, and almost always deal with the Directors Guild of America (DGA) (unless I’m breaking in a new director I think is a hidden talent).

Some may disagree with my numerical definition of what constitutes an independent film, but that range I stated above is the one I’m addressing in this book. If you want to raise $10,000, I guess you could use some of the techniques in here, but most of them don’t apply. If you want to raise $15 million, again, some of the techniques may work, but a lot of them aren’t going to help you.

However, if you have a movie that falls within that $300,000 to $8 million budget, you’re going to want to listen.

My First Project as a Producer

In 2001, I made an educational video called The Agony of Ecstasy. It was funded by a recovering alcoholic who wanted to give something back to the world. He advanced us $3000 and asked us to shoot a video geared for high schools.

My producing partner at the time and I took the $3000 and used our Canon XL-1 (mini-DV) camera, which was one of the top prosumer cameras back then. We set out to make an indie-type street film instead of the moronic drug videos that are out there, so many of which we watched in preparation for producing our film. One video about crack featured interpretive dancers in ballet uniforms. We were crying as we watched it!

We took to the streets of New York and did on-camera interviews, and we even got into an actual rave party, a feat that VH1 couldn’t even achieve for their ecstasy special. Our video came out quite well.

Once we finished the video, we started selling it to schools through various distributors. I didn’t know it at the time, but educational videos sell for big numbers. The lowest price I saw the video go for was $99. Most of the time it was $129.99, and sometimes it was $200, if I included a CD containing a little PowerPoint presentation and test for the class that I made up from the knowledge I gained while shooting.

Well, our video sold to over a thousand schools. All in all, it’s probably made over $150,000. Out of that, I’ve probably seen around $10,000. But, it was the first little film I ever produced, and it made money.

My first produced project that made money! An educational video for high schools. This was the video box cover I designed.

I remember talking to a distributor from Pyramid Media, one of the distributors of the video (I believe you can still buy it there). He told me that, back in the day, educational videos could make millions. Nowadays, the market was flooded.

That was the first time I heard about how great it “used to be,” but it wouldn’t be my last.

Unfortunately, “things used to be so much better” has become the battle cry of the independent film world. Each year, Variety and the Hollywood Reporter love to report how the American Film Market (AFM) was the “slowest yet,” and at Cannes, “No one is buying…” and at Toronto the “market is grim.”

Is it true? Somewhat. I’ll go into more detail as I explain the three features I produced over the past two years.

The Attic

This was the first time I experienced the “crack high.” When we were shooting The Attic, we really thought it was going to be the next Halloween. I felt I knew enough about horror movies (being a horror movie junkie my whole life) to be able to craft the scariest movie of all time.

The problem was, it’s not that easy. And, it wasn’t just me doing the crafting. Early on, I had been in talks with an editor/wannabe director (let’s call him “the WBD”) who wanted to direct The Attic. He was, funny enough, the same guy who had been attached to direct AnySwing Goes, and he was getting screwed over by that scum producer (“the SP”) as well.

About two years into the AnySwing Goes fiasco, I felt a connection with this guy. I thought that, together, we were fighting this SP. I told him that I was getting a movie funded, and I wanted him to direct. He immediately read the script for The Attic and jumped in. He started doing his own rewrites, which I shouldn’t have let happen. I wasn’t yet WGA and didn’t know that this isn’t how it’s done.

In the meantime, as I explained in the introduction, once I started to expose the con-man SP, he tried to push me out of the film. What I didn’t know was that this guy, the WBD, was supporting him. Looking back on it, I realize he was doing it out of fear for his own job. He thought that the SP was going to be successful and that I was just a kid. He was wrong. The SP has never done any film project to my knowledge (or IMDb’s knowledge), and I now live in a house that they both could only dream of owning.

When I discovered this bit of intrigue, I quickly lost interest in his directing The Attic. On top of that, I had partnered up with other producers, and choosing a director wasn’t my sole decision. I gave a lot of my power away on that film because I was so young and naive. I had brought pretty much all the money… I should have had the most control! (I realized that soon enough, and made up for this on my second film.) But, it was probably worth it because I did have a lot to learn.

So I took it upon myself to remove the WBD’s changes from my script. The problem was, as he was making changes, I was making changes, and I couldn’t remember which were his and which were mine. Truly, I tried to take everything out, but I just couldn’t tell for sure.

This guy, upon hearing that the film was financed and he wasn’t the director, was furious! He threatened to sue unless I gave him shared credit on the film. As another insult, he directed all his comments to my producing partners because, as he put in an email, “Tom is just a child and a thief.” I couldn’t believe it! He had already put the knife in my back on Any-Swing Goes. Now, in the case of The Attic, he actually thought I was trying to steal his writing because it was so good!

I hired my own attorney to make sure the WBD didn’t get shared credit. The joke is, the WBD probably changed 15% of the script, and never changed one scene from my original draft. He only changed dialogue, which, according to the WGA, doesn’t warrant a credit. So even if I kept all his stuff in there, he wouldn’t have had a case. But I wasn’t WGA, and I didn’t know this yet.

The attorney I hired was a kind of arrogant, eternally pissed-off New York City lawyer. Looking back on it, he screwed me somewhat. He could have told me the day I met him exactly what I had to do to get this guy out of my script, but instead he fed it to me piecemeal over the next four weeks. I recognize this now as typical lawyer BS… a strategy for running up an hourly tab. We had signed Mary Lambert at that point, and we started to get cast attached.

I eventually found out this lawyer’s plan was simple:

‹› Take out anything from the script that I even remotely considered might not be mine, and put “…” in its place.

‹› Copyright that script.

‹› Have a brand-new writer who knows nothing about the script come in and fill in those blanks.

After I completed this, the WBD wouldn’t have a case. Realize that I just told you, the reader, how to do this in fifteen seconds. This lawyer slowly fed it to me, and by the time he got to what I had to do, I felt it was too late.

On top of that, I started feeling a bit bad for the WBD. His marriage was falling apart, and, truthfully, he had been screwed by the AnySwing Goes producer (SP) as well (though he chose his side and it was the wrong one to choose). The only thing I was really pissed at was his anger toward me. So, I said, “Forget it,” and gave the guy a shared writing credit. I remember this really bothered me because I thought The Attic was going to be so big! I didn’t want people thinking that the dialogue being said on the screen was his. I did everything in my power to remove what I thought was his writing from the script, but there are still one or two lines in the finished product that I’m unsure about. So, for those one or two lines, he’s got a shared credit. It just shows what karma gets you. The WBD hasn’t written anything since, he’s not in the WGA or the DGA, and he’s getting up there in age. My bet is that he’ll never write or direct for the screen.

The lesson is, always try to do the right thing. It helps so much in this business. Karma comes around. Good deeds get paid back. Screwing someone over, well, that comes back too.

Not to say there aren’t two sides to any story. In all fairness, I bet if you heard this guy’s version, he might blame it all on me. Probably not, though. The facts are very clear. I tried to reason with him several times. The only case that he could argue is that maybe there were more than one or two lines in the movie that were still his (but I’d love him to point out which ones). That still doesn’t warrant shared credit.

When I first started getting The Attic together, I was afraid of the SP from AnySwing Goes. He really gave off this air that he was a powerful producer. I look back and laugh at this. He had everyone bowing to him because he was a complete con artist, and he was good at it. I’m thanking him officially, because I’ve since run into several con artists, and I’ve always been the first one to pick them out.

Aimee Schoof and Isen Robbins had been attached to AnySwing Goes as producers. At first, the SP was adamantly against hiring them. I never quite knew why, but I now think it’s because he knew they would eventually weed him out as a fraud.

SIDE NOTE

You’ll notice something in this book. For those I like and respect, I use their real names, Others, however, are referred to as “that guy” or “that woman,” or they get nicknames like the WBD and the SP. Exception to the rule: I identify all my investors as “HNI” (High Net-Worth Individual). I love them all, but they don’t want their names plastered everywhere!

Aimee and Isen are good New York indie producers. They can get the job done at any budget and can be hard with numbers, which sometimes crews and vendors hate, but investors love. I met them because they were hired to produce AnySwing Goes, and eventually, they got screwed over by the same producer (the SP). I’ll always remember the day Isen called me, though, and gave me the heads up that the SP was trying to boot me out of the movie and steal my script. Isen chose the winning team, and that will stick with me forever.

I really liked Aimee and Isen from the start and wanted to use them for The Attic, but I didn’t want this fake SP knowing about it, because I still thought AnySwing Goes might happen.

So I went out and got two different producers to help with The Attic. Mistake. One was a lawyer, who, despite acting negative all the time, was not a bad guy and has done some okay stuff. The other was a director who was bitter and arrogant. Right away, the three of us didn’t mix. The funny thing is, this was when I was considering hiring the WBD to direct The Attic. I didn’t realize it then, but they were trying to remove the WBD and replace him with the arrogant director guy. (Ironically, when the WBD threatened to sue me, he went right to this lawyer for advice. I guess he didn’t realize that the lawyer was trying to screw him a few months earlier.) This director thought he was the God of indie film, though I’d never heard of any movie he claimed to have made. He thought of me as just an actor who didn’t have any special film ability.

I knew I was going down a bad path with them but was willing to stick it out. At that time, the fake SP found out I was making another movie and used it as the perfect excuse to get angry with me. I still don’t know how I accepted this. He said, “How could you do this to me?” I actually felt that I had done something wrong. Ridiculous! Back then, I believed the SP thought I looked up to him and wanted him on every project I did, but I know now that’s not true. He was just creating something out of nothing so he could boot me out of AnySwing Goes and continue the charade. Aimee and Isen were the ones who eventually called him out and exposed him, but I was booted off the project long before then.

Anyway, the SP, who was the main opponent to Aimee and Isen when they were hired for AnySwing Goes, now was “appalled” that I didn’t choose them to produce The Attic. The joke is, I didn’t even realize that was an option, and I would have attached them without hesitation. I balked out of fear that the SP would retaliate, and now here he was telling me I should do it. It’s a classic example of the con artist’s technique. He tries to make you look like you did something wrong, no matter what.

I was forced to join the two producers I hired (the lawyer and the director) with Aimee and Isen, and the kitchen had even more cooks. On top of that, I really started thinking that the arrogant director was going to try to take over The Attic. All I could think of was that it was going to be AnySwing Goes all over again, where I’d be booted out. So, I made a judgment call and asked the lawyer and director to step away from the project. They did so without much fanfare, though I had to pay them $5000, as the lawyer had put together some boilerplate paperwork.

SIDE NOTE

I’ve run into the lawyer since then, and we’re amicable to each other, but I’ve never again seen the director guy, and I’m pretty sure he hates my guts. I would only assume this because I found out later he did want to take over the project and direct. So I’m sure there’s bad blood. But, like the late Bernie Brillstein said, “You’re nobody in this town until someone wants you dead.”

The Attic moved forward with Aimee and Isen joined by a producer named Russ Terlecki, who was able to bring $90,000 or so from various sources (on top of the initial $250,000 that I had raised).

I’m not going to go into too much detail about how the film turned out, because this book focuses on the funding of films, not the execution or the distribution, but I will bring up a few relevant points.

I learned two amazing lessons while shooting The Attic. The first is perhaps one of the most important rules I know: The absolute best time to raise money for a feature film is when you are in production. I’ll go more into this in Chapter 13: The Dangerous Approach. But just know now that the lights, camera, and action of a movie set make investors open their pockets.

We needed about $550,000 to complete The Attic, and, thankfully, I raised the gap (around $200,000) as we were shooting. I had pitched and sold a great guy and his dad, who owned an upstate New York Internet company that was taking off. (They recently sold the site for $40 million, I believe.) They invested $75,000, and found someone else to match their funds. So now we had around $490,000. When we were done shooting and were in post, I went back to the Internet guys and they graciously gave us another $25,000. Because we had a film shooting, they invested.

Second lesson I learned was a little more intricate. There’s a great book I recommend for any film producer called From Reel to Deal by Dov S-S Simens. When people express an interest in becoming film producers, I tell them to begin there. Dov started many careers, including Quentin Tarantino’s. He breaks down a section where he answers the question, How do you make a $200 million film? His response is, Make a $20 million film that is successful. How do you make a $20 million film? Make a $2 million film that is successful. How do you make a $2 million film? Make a $200,000 film that is successful, and so on. You get the picture?

One of the few points I disagree with in Simens’ book is his use of the phrase “that is successful.” I have found that if you want to make a $2 million film, you only need to have made a $200,000 film. It doesn’t have to have been successful. You just have to have done it.

Director Mary Lambert giving me last-minute tips on the set of The Attic.

Let me explain. Suppose you were starting a dance club. Wouldn’t you rather have the pro designing the space be someone who had designed clubs in the past? Maybe he designed the XYZ club and that club failed. Is it this one person’s fault? Probably not. Other factors play important roles in the club’s success. The key is that you’ve hired someone who has experience doing the job you need accomplished.

Think about how that relates to film: I realized, after we had finished The Attic, that I had a little cachet. I had completed a film for $550,000. I had already lined up another project called The Alphabet Killer, and this time I needed over $2 million. Not only had The Attic not made money at that point, we hadn’t even screened it for a distributor. But, the movie was done, and that’s when I learned a second great lesson: You start making movies, and it’s way easier to get more movies going.

The Alphabet Killer

In 2005, my wife Emily and I were living in New Jersey, just after the birth of our daughter, Ella. I told Emily that I wanted to write another scary movie, but this time make it more of a true crime/psychological thriller. Right away, she remembered a story about an unsolved serial killer case that took place in her hometown of Rochester, New York. Apparently, in the early 1970s, a man killed three young girls, aged ten through twelve, who each had the same first and last initial, then buried them in the town corresponding to that initial. For instance, the first victim, Carmen Colon was buried in Churchville. The case remained unsolved, and the culprit was referred to as the Double Initial Killer.

“The Double Initial Killer” sounded like a weak title for a movie. Also, the real killings involved three letters, not two (the first name, the last name, and the town name).

So I called the project The Alphabet Killer. (Funny enough, when there was a break on the case a year ago, CNN referred to it as The Alphabet Killer, which was a name I created!) I also decided to set the script in the present day, to avoid dealing with the budget additions that come with shooting a film set in the 1970s.

I also decided to stay away from the crimes’ victims. I didn’t want to focus on young girls being murdered, so I made the main focus of the story an internal battle going on inside lead investigator Megan Paige (eventually played by Eliza Dushku). I chose schizophrenia because many schizophrenics have a lot of trouble with letters and numbers.

I did a ton of research. It turns out, luckily, that the mother of my sister-in-law’s then-boyfriend was a police investigator and had worked on the case, which gave me my first big “in.” I also read a lot about schizophrenia and spoke with several psychologists.

The scope of the film was a lot bigger than The Attic. It was a really gripping crime thriller that took place throughout all of Rochester, so I knew it could not be done as cheaply. I went back to my production team on The Attic and brought them on board. We calculated that the film would have to be shot for at least $2 million.

Great. I had my number. Now I had to go raise it.

The main HNI involved with the picture was a friend from my network who had given $75,000 to The Attic. He was a big fan of true crime stories, and had ties with the local and state police of Rochester. He was a big figure in the Rochester community as well, and became a very valuable resource during filming.

But he needed to be convinced to write a $2 million check, because the $75,000 he had invested in The Attic had not come back to him, and there’s a big difference between that figure and $2 million! In fact, not even a fraction of his initial outlay had come back. Nothing.

I was able to get some initial funding from my Internet HNI to the tune of $25,000, which allowed us to start some development of the film (see Chapter 12: The Attachment Approach). In the end, however, continual trips up to Rochester pitching this guy on the viability of the project, and lots of nights drinking together, closed the deal.

I attached director Rob Schmidt, whose last film, Wrong Turn, had made $51 million in theaters and DVD sales and rentals. How did I do this? Well, I was looking for an editor to recut The Attic, and I emailed Rob through his website. I wanted to talk to his Wrong Turn editor. We actually had offered Rob the directing job on The Attic, but the project wasn’t right for him at the time. Rob gave me the name of the editor and let me know that he had great admiration for my Attic script. I emailed him back right away, saying, “Well, I’ve got another one, if you’re interested!” He was, and, within forty-eight hours of my mailing him the screenplay for The Alphabet Killer, he was attached.

During a trip up to Rochester, I learned one of the most valuable tricks for convincing an investor to invest. This could truly be considered “underhanded,” but I swear that I did it with pure innocence. My mother-in-law worked for NBC News in Rochester, and I asked her to see if she could get a story for us on the making of the film (though it was a way off). I figured it would inspire local interest and perhaps drum up some money.

My mother-in-law set up the interview, and I invited the HNI to join me. Well, the local Rochester news did a fantastic story that featured me as the writer-producer and my HNI (whose name is Greg) as the executive producer. I really thought innocently that it would just serve to get him excited about the film and make a stir in the community.

Unexpectedly, I got a call from Greg about a week later. “Everyone is blowing up my phone! They keep asking me when the movie is going to be shot!” The strangest thing happened… he practically had to go ahead with the film or risk losing face!

We started assembling the elements and eventually delivered Greg a kickass package. We hired Kelly Wagner and Nancy Nayor to cast the film, who had cast Hostel, The Grudge, The Grudge 2, and The Exorcism of Emily Rose. We went after a lot of A-list talent to play Megan, the lead character, who basically carries the film. Rob Schmidt had suggested we consider Eliza Dushku. She liked the script, and it turned out to be a good fit. After Eliza signed on, the rest of the cast fell into place (this usually happens after one star says yes), and Tim Hutton, Cary Elwes, and Michael Ironside all came on board. I need to mention that several of the actors, including Ironside, Bill Moseley, and Martin Donovan, signed on primarily because they were Rob’s friends. That goes to show what hiring an experienced director does for your project.

We were about two months away from our intended shooting date. Unfortunately, my HNI thought we were going to be able to raise the $2 million through other sources, and he had only committed about $300,000 so far. I’ll go over exactly what happened in later chapters, but this was a mistake I made. The other producers thought, “Well, Tom’s handling it,” so they all sat around and waited for the HNI to close. Thank God he did, but it took many trips and many drinks.

When he finally put the check in, we were literally two weeks away from principal photography. I remember being at his playhouse (he actually had a separate house for his cars and games) with the rest of the producers, and going through the exact same pitch that I had been working on him for months. At one point, he left the room with his father-in-law and we were all sitting there, wondering if we were going to have to tell everyone that the movie was to be shut down. He came back in, his face giving nothing away at first, and then sat down and said, “Let’s make a movie.”

It was one of the greatest feelings of my life, but I wouldn’t wish that stress on anyone. Every day I went into the production office wondering, “Is this the last day I’ll be here?” Ughh… it’s a terrifying feeling.

But Greg came through like a champ, and the movie, I believe, came out amazing.

In the meantime, I was busy trying to finance my third film in two years. It was the dance film that I always wanted to do, and it would be the most commercial film I had ever made. There were two major obstacles: 1) We needed $3 million, which would eventually balloon to over $7 million, and 2) I was going to be the star.

Love N’ Dancing

I could write an entire book on the trials and tribulations of Love N’ Dancing. However, for the purposes of this book, I’m going to focus on the money-raising aspects of this film and the lessons that I can pass on to you.

When I realized that AnySwing Goes was never going to happen, I shelved the project several years prior to writing Love N’ Dancing, which I started in 2006. The only similarities are that there’s dancing in both. I went back to the first time I ever saw West Coast Swing, way back in 1998. There was a dance competition called The Big Apple Country Dance Festival (that still exists, I believe). I was watching the professional Jack & Jill Competition, where competitors don’t know their partners or the music… they have to create a routine on the spot.

I watched this big guy, John Lindo, dance. He was over three hundred pounds and he was fantastic. I was so blown away by the style of dance that I said two things:

‹› I’ve got to make a movie about West Coast Swing.

‹› I’ve got to put that big guy in it.

When I wrote AnySwing Goes, the dancing was a subplot. In Love N’ Dancing, West Coast Swing would take center stage.

A funny thing happened that night in 1998. When they announced the winners, John Lindo took second place. I was awestruck, along with the crowd. Then they announced the winner and he went out to do a dance with his partner. I watched him dance and he was very good, but he wasn’t anywhere near John. Then someone elbowed me and said, “You know, that guy’s deaf.”

When I went back and decided to write a new dance movie, I started from that moment. Love N’ Dancing opens in 2002, when my character, Jake Mitchell, wins the world championship, but doesn’t really feel he deserves it. Flash to the present day: Jake teaches dancing and does motivational speaking for kids (I always include something personal). It’s at one of these school speeches where Jake meets Jessica (Amy Smart), a bored-with-life English teacher who has a workaholic fiancé (Billy Zane). Jake and Jessica ignite a flame in each other after Jessica becomes Jake’s student, and they eventually compete for the world championship.

Right away, I had my assistant put together a list of the best dance films and romantic comedies. Then I went through and started to find email addresses and contact information for the directors of these films. (I’ll explain this method in more detail in Chapter 12: The Attachment Approach.) I came upon a guy named Robert Iscove, who had directed the teen comedy She’s All That (which made $150 million), and had even choreographed the movie Jesus Christ Superstar back in 1973.

I liked Rob right away, and he connected with the script. His notes were always well thought out and moved the story in a more positive direction. The only idea I resisted was to make the script focus more on the character’s deafness. I didn’t want to make it a “disability” story. As my friend Dr. Paul Stuart Wichansky (a fellow motivational speaker with cerebral palsy who served as the hearing loss consultant on Love N’ Dancing) will tell you, it’s better to see people for what they can do instead of what they can’t. In Love N’ Dancing, Jake’s deafness is almost a side note. Our movie shows ability, not disability. Rob agreed with this approach, and we were ready to move.

As a producing partner, I chose Robert Royston, a legend in the swing dance community. He had over seven U.S. Open titles, and was the world champion in both swing and country dancing for four consecutive years. Robert is also a very charming individual and gives off an extremely positive vibe.

Robert was involved in AnySwing Goes. I had brought him in and introduced him to the SP, and Robert was hired to choreograph. After that film fell apart, Robert and I stayed close (he was also one of my first West Coast Swing teachers… I figured, why not learn from the best?). Together, Robert and I produced The World Championships of Country Dance for GAC TV in 2003. It was the first time competitive country dancing was ever broadcast, and it was very well received.

For Love N’ Dancing, I knew that I needed Robert’s full involvement, so I asked him to produce the film with me, and I wrote a nice supporting role for his wife, a theater actress who always wanted to make the transition to film.

The first dollar came in from an HNI dancer I knew from Long Island. I met with him and pitched him on the project, then invited him to a special screening of The Attic. This guy believed in the project and in me, so he gave me $25,000. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Through some family connections, Robert was able to find someone who wanted to invest another $25,000. Now we had $50,000 to develop our $3 million film.

Robert had a fantastic reputation in the swing dance world, and knew a lot of people with money. One was a world champion poker player. Robert and I met with him and pitched him on the project, but he was already sold. He was such a fan of West Coast Swing (being a dancer himself) that he had no doubt a movie featuring the dance would be a hit. This was potentially the easiest money that I’ve ever been involved in landing. The HNI poker player wired $500,000, no questions asked.

We were able to get a few more little hits, and we had around $700,000 when we started making offers for the lead role of Jessica. We focused on actresses who had prior dance experience. The bonus was that whomever we cast would get eight weeks of dance training with Robert Royston. We began getting bites right away.

It was a total surprise when we heard Amy Smart had dance training. I was a fan of The Butterfly Effect and Road Trip, and I thought she fit the character very well. We made the offer, and she accepted.

We had to make a “pay-or-play deal” (see Chapter 12: The Attachment Approach) with Amy, so we locked ourselves into a date. We had the money to pay her, but didn’t have much more than that. We moved forward using the Dangerous Approach (see Chapter 13: The Dangerous Approach), which, though effective, is not highly recommended.

The reason we moved forward was because we had a major investment group in New York interested in funding the film. In fact, they committed verbally several times, and were one step away from committing on paper.

The problem was, being the star of the film, I could not focus even the tiniest bit of my efforts on raising money once the production started, or it would be seen all over my performance. I believe this is 100% necessary if you are an actor in your project. You cannot produce and act at the same time. It’s just too much. I’ve heard of actors succeeding as they directed themselves (Clint Eastwood is a great example), but being a producer on set and starring in the movie is a recipe for disaster.

So I gave over the financing reins to Robert Royston and his sister-in-law, Melissa McDonald, along with her business partner, Beth Fisher. They all worked together raising money for the film. They were green, but they were effective because they were motivated. They learned the ropes quickly.

We hired Sylvia Caminer, a New York indie producer, to work as the nuts-and-bolts, experienced producer on set.

I don’t know exactly what went on during production because, for better or for worse, I was kept out of it. Eventually, I believe, the New York group committed in writing, but the money never dropped. We got to a situation where we were almost done shooting, and our funds had run out. In the meantime, however, the team of Robert, Melissa, and Beth had raised somewhere in the realm of $1 million, which kept us going. We still needed that extra $2 million or so to finish, and we found out after shooting that we weren’t getting it.

I returned home to Los Angeles, and the “crack high” of production ended instantly. We were faced with past due bills, vendors and crew that needed to be paid, and no money in our account. All the credit cards were maxxed out, and we were stuck.

Three lessons here:

‹› Never hand over the reins entirely. In fact, I got some flack from this during production when I found out my producing partner thought I wasn’t doing enough. He took full credit for bringing the New York group, which leads me to my next lesson….

‹› Never take credit for bringing anyone or anything to the table until they have closed. I’ve actually seen this happen on several occasions, and each time it has blown up in the person’s face.

‹› You can’t sue anybody. What were we supposed to do when the New York group backed out? Sue them? They were a billion-dollar entity… we were broke. And say we did have the money to sue, what then? We would have ended up in a three-year lawsuit and the film would have crumbled and fallen long before then. Unfortunately, that’s why filmmakers are such easy targets for scam artists. Scammers know that filmmakers are desperate, and they also know they won’t sue.

We had shot the film in New Mexico, and when we were late paying people, they started getting really pissed. The most anger came from unpaid extras who were due something like $120. They thought we (as producers) were keeping the money hidden somewhere, or maybe spending it on luxury items. I racked up over $60,000 in credit card debt trying to live (the film owed me over $50,000 and it took eleven months to see that), and Robert actually got his electricity turned off in his house at one point.

Eventually, through some networking connections, I was introduced to Michael Roban, a great guy who runs Cold Fusion Media. Thankfully, Rob Iscove had started to cut the film for free with a great editor named Casey Rohrs. They had put together a “dog and pony show,” and I showed that to Michael and his investors. I’m skipping over the running around, the sweating, and the endless happy pitches I gave so I can get to this: Cold Fusion came in, paid off the debt and saved the film. This wasn’t a straight investment, however. It was “finishing funds,” which I will explain in Chapter 14: The Structured Approach.

It still took us months and months to get everything straightened out. I can’t tell you how many people threatened to sue Robert and me. If any cases against us had moved forward, the project would have simply collapsed, because we had $0. You can’t get blood from a stone. Throughout it all, Robert and I had only the best intentions, and why would we not? I knew I had the lead role, and that this could be a huge hit for me. As for Robert, his choreography would be on display for the whole film, and he’s the producer.

When we finally screened the film in March 2008, we were ready for the hell ride to end. We’d find out soon enough, the road was just beginning to get bumpy. Basically, the film was very well received, and tons of video offers came in. We wanted a theatrical release. Two small theatrical offers came in, but they were nothing to write home about.

We soon realized that we needed to raise the P&A (prints and advertising) money ourselves and get the film into theaters. We went to our sales agents and said, “Go back to the distributors who are interested and ask them what they would do if we were bringing $3 million to the table.”

Again, a classic example of “He who has the gold makes the rules.” Distributors were suddenly all over us to help with the theatrical release for Love N’ Dancing. We eventually chose a great group called Screen Media Films. Universal Home Video would be doing the video release.

Sounds simple, right? Wrong! We now needed $3 million! On top of that, we needed to pay off Cold Fusion’s loan and a few other bridge loans, so we had to get our hands on nearly $5 million to get out of debt and release the film.

The fiascos that took place could merit their own book. Robert, Andy Goldstein (one of our executive producers), and I were at work fulltime for over six months trying to find an investor or lender to cover this gap. With our film growing older and everyone pushed to the edge, we finally accomplished our seemingly impossible goal. (This story is conveyed in Chapter 16: Getting It Done.) Robert and I continually joke about how good the book on Love N’ Dancing will be, and I think we’re holding off because the final act has not been written. I really hope the film is a success, because then it will all be worth it. But the gray hairs, the mental stress, and the internal damage done to us will always linger. Still want to be a film producer?

Status of the Market

Things have changed. Yes, the market for independent films is not that good right now, which will make it tougher for you to raise money. Don’t fret, though. If you follow the methods in this book, I still believe you can get it done. The main thing I’m seeing from all investors (due to the faltering economy) is that they are all risk averse. You can counter that predisposition with formulas, utilizing tax rebates and tax write-offs, as well as foreign sales, which help or eliminate risk for investors. You’ll find an in-depth discussion of this topic in Chapter 14: The Structured Approach.

Many great films are not getting distribution. No distributor wants to take the risk anymore. They are scared to put $20 million in P&A behind a film. Risk aversion has all but destroyed the market for indies. Years ago, you could make a great film (which is a feat in itself), then take it to a major festival, get a big money pickup, and see that film released into theaters. That’s not happening anymore. The films that cost $8 million are being picked up for under $1 million (if they’re lucky). It’s very tough to make money on films that cost over $5 million unless you have a major star who can sell your project, and that list of potential candidates is getting smaller and smaller. Obviously, it’s very tough to get a true major star behind your project. The most recent Demi Moore-Michael Caine movie went straight to video. She used to be one of the biggest stars in the world. Does that tell you something?

Years ago, a commercial film like Love N’ Dancing would have been a layup to sell. In today’s climate, we had to find a way to do it ourselves.

The Future

The future is uncertain. The Internet will be a force, but no one seems to be able to predict how it will be used, and very few (or none) seem to be able to find the formula to make money off of it.

But selling is not your top priority, though it is important. If you make money for your investors, you’ll be able to line them up and get them to participate in future projects. If you make a ton of money, you’re not going to need private equity, because you’ll probably end up working for a studio. If you don’t make money, you’re going to have to find new investors (and explain why your last project didn’t turn a profit).

This book deals with funding your film. Film sales are a different story. As a producer, it’s your responsibility to set up a film to succeed financially as best you can. But film investment is a risk. Even people who invest in film all the time will tell you that. You need to keep this in mind as you look for investors. You will try like hell to make them money, but, at the end of the day, it’s all a gamble. This book will deal with how to get those people to take a gamble.

When I refer to “those people,” I’m talking about HNIs. HNIs are the folks everyone is after. They’re not the ones who know the people (though they can be valuable too). They are the check writers. As I’ll discuss in Chapter 10: The Finder’s Fee Approach, the HNIs are not producers, and many of them are not even related to the film business at all. They have become successful in other industries and possess the financial resources to fund your movie. These are the people to target.

Your HNI network needs to be protected. I’ve had people “encroach” on my HNIs numerous times. It’s part of the business of swimming with sharks. A way around this is to have producing partners sign a non-circumvent agreement, which states that they cannot approach your HNI for their projects. I highly encourage you to have a boilerplate version of this contract on your computer, and to hand it out to anyone who’s talking to your investor. Getting an HNI is incredibly tough. The last thing you want is to put in tons of work gaining an HNI’s interest in your film, and then watch as another producer swoops in and grabs that investor’s money for his own project.

SIDE NOTE

Another way to combat this is to restrict yourself to high-level relationships. HNIs who are your good friends will let you know when someone with whom you’re currently working approaches them.

Essentials

Before we start, there are some essentials we need to cover. These are tools you should have in your arsenal prior to beginning your efforts to start raising money.

IMDbPro

IMDbPro, the subscriber version of IMDb, has become a fixture in the film business. An invaluable online tool, it lists people’s credits and contact information. Once you activate your account, you can do tons of research through this site’s database. I run into people at festivals who frequently list their credits for me. I collect their business cards and, the next day, go right to IMDbPro. About 80% of the time, their credits aren’t listed and I learn the person is full of it.

SIDE NOTE

Always follow up with everyone you meet at a festival or at a networking event. If I had to attribute one thing to my success in financing films, it’s the ability to follow up and stay persistent. Following up makes the difference between closing a sale and wishing you closed a sale.

With iPhones, Blackberries, and all other communication devices that come with built-in Internet access, you have access to IMDbPro right at your fingertips. Recently, I was trying to get into one of the hottest clubs in L.A. and I went to the front of the line. The bouncer asked if I was in the film business. I told him I was and rattled off a couple of credits. He pulled out his iPhone and IMDb’ed me right there, honest to God. I got in the club, so I guess my listing was okay.

I’ve also been on the opposite side, where I was doing the IMDb’ing. I was at an AFM (American Film Market) party and this guy told me he was a producer. His name sounded familiar, so as he was talking, I pulled out my Blackberry and IMDb’ed him, all the while pretending I was texting. Within a minute, I knew all of his credits and was able to use that to my advantage.

Remember to update yourself on IMDb. If you don’t know how to do it, read the instructions or email the help desk. This is essential. The interface is not the easiest to use, and I’m saying this as a former computer guy. But you have to learn it because no one’s going to update your listing for you. It’s all about Starmeter if you’re an actor, and it’s all about credits if you’re anything else. Whatever you are involved with, do the update yourself.

Variety or Hollywood Reporter

A subscription to one of these (or both) is more than essential. These periodicals are the lifeblood of the industry, the only publications that really cover and speak to our world. Years ago, I would read the articles in both and have no idea what they meant. Nowadays, I know or I am friendly with at least a few people in each daily edition.

I used to cut out pictures of studio executives or agents that appeared in the back of these magazines. That way, I could identify who these people were if I ran into them. It’s your responsibility to know who the important people in your business are. This is your industry, and this will be how you make a living and perhaps support a family.

As you start to feel connected to the business, you’ll realize why the trades are so crucial. You’ll be able to use articles to your advantage. If you read in Variety that a friend just got promoted, make sure you call him or her and offer congratulations. If the Hollywood Reporter notes that 1234 Entertainment is buying scripts about trampolines, and you own the Chinatown of trampoline scripts, contact 1234 Entertainment. You’ll find out quickly how to work the trades, the true glue of the industry.

Storymakers

This is the only TV show I know of that deals with the film business issues that true industry professionals care about. Hosted by Hollywood icons Peter Bart and Peter Guber, Storymakers (formerly known as Sunday Morning Shootout) on AMC is like a master class in producing. If you wish to be in the film business, watching the show is a requirement.

I wish that Variety would create its own cable channel one day, addressing the real business of film, with topics such as what spec scripts are selling and what financial deals have been made. Right now, all we have is E!, a channel most concerned with what Britney Spears was wearing when she left the airport, and whom Madonna was seen kissing.

For now, all the serious people have is Storymakers. Watch it religiously.

Computer Skills

Bottom line: If you haven’t done so already, you need to gain computer proficiency. Most important, you must be able to email. This is kid’s stuff. If you think you can be connected and not know how to send and receive email, you’re very wrong.

I would also recommend getting a Blackberry, an iPhone, a Palm, or any phone that can send and receive instant email. I prefer the Blackberry because it’s the only one with truly secure email capability at the moment.

Hundreds of emails go in and out of my account each day. It’s just part of the business. You also need to be ready to bang the phones at all times, so get a good plan with a lot of minutes, and get a Bluetooth headset for your car.

In addition to emailing, you need to learn how to use database programs such as Microsoft Excel, and word processing programs like Microsoft Word. Both are vital. We’ll explore these crucial tools more fully in later chapters.

Business Cards

Your presentation is so important. As you build your network, you’ll start to give out and collect business cards on a daily basis. I have thousands. I can assure you, though, I’ve followed up with 90% of them.

VistaPrint is an Internet company that offers free business cards. All you have to do is pay the shipping and handling, which is under $5. The cards come with the VistaPrint logo on the back. If you think I’m giving you a tip here, think again. The second someone hands me a business card and I flip it over and see the VistaPrint logo, I know that person is full of shit.

Think about it. Say I’m talking to a guy who claims he’s Mr. Producer. He’s telling me he’s got all kinds of projects in development. Okay, sounds great. But that VistaPrint logo indicates he can’t afford to spend more than $5 on his business cards. Based on this information alone, I’ll be quick to call his bluff.

The same goes for flimsy cards made from paper you bought at Staples. Do you really want this to be the first impression you make on potential collaborators or investors?

I’ll even go further and say I don’t even like cards that have been designed with template graphics on the Internet! I have a big problem with knowing that someone else might be out there with a business card that has the exact same design.

The only alternative is to have a business card, and perhaps your company logo, custom designed. There are companies on the Net that do this for $99. It’s worth it. You are branding your company, and you are taking a step toward creating a unique image to match your unique voice.

You can also get creative here. My latest business card design uses movie posters from classic films. The backs of the cards all have the same contact information, but the front may feature the poster from Double Indemnity, Casablanca, or The Third Man (and I have tons more).

Don’t cheap out on business cards. It can make you look bad from the start.

Website

I used to design websites and can make some great looking flash sites. If you have those skills, fantastic. If not, don’t design your own site! The number of crappy websites I’ve seen rivals the amount of bad scripts I’ve read. Again, you may need to pay someone else to do this, but it is worth it. Check out some of my own websites:

‹› www.trickcandle.com (production company)

‹› www.tommalloy.com (acting)

‹› www.howtosucceed.net (motivational speaking)

‹› www.bankrollthebook.com (this book)

They are all professionally designed and represent me extremely well.

I’ll convey a story about what a good website can do:

I designed the trickcandle.com site using some amazing template flash code from Blue Gel Media. I spent some money purchasing the code and graphics, and took about a week to design the site. I also optimized it for a Google search (a lot of web design companies will do this for you). Again, I used to do web design and I’ve been around computers my whole life, so I have an advantage. But let’s say I spent $3000 on the site.

About a month after I went live with the site, I got a call from the production company of an actress who has won several Academy Awards. They saw my site and wanted to meet me. I went in and had a great discussion, and we’re still trying to find a script of mine that’s right for them to produce. Thanks to the inroads my website made for me, I now have this company as, at the very least, a contact.

Do you think they would have contacted me based on a simple HTML site that listed my credits? Never. They saw my site, thought that it was topnotch, figured I was a professional (which I am), and called me in. That’s what a good website can do for you. Just like the business cards, you can’t cheap out on this.

I’ve seen many people continue to design their own sites and think they look good. Maybe, like bad screenwriters, they just have no idea what works. Try attacking the website question the same way you would a script you’ve just written (I’ll go over this in Chapter 4: Selling Yourself on the Project). Send the link out to random people who won’t be afraid to be honest with you and get their opinions.

Finally

Welcome to Indiewood. Okay, so Indiewood is not the prettiest place in town, but, if you can become successful, you’re sure to get a lot of respect. You must have a burning drive and passion coupled with non-stop persistence and focus. You also need to be in it for the long haul. It’s going to be a roller-coaster ride. Hang on.