Where I come from, when the credits of a movie started to roll, that meant it was time to leave. So when I moved to L.A. many years ago, one of the most baffling bits of culture shock was that at the end of a movie, people would actually sit through the credits and watch them. Asking around to try and figure out the reason for our vast cultural differences, the most common response I got was that people in L.A. stick around through the credits “To see if anyone I know is there.” Now, I don’t know if this is actually the reason or not – it’s certainly possible, given the number of people who work in the biz and the number of other people who must know them (after all, we’re all less than six degrees away from knowing Kevin Bacon). But to me what credits really point out is one of the primary hallmarks of the artistic creation know as movie and TV production, and a common feature of cultures around the world: they are collaborative.
In Art Worlds (a groundbreaking book on the sociology of art), Howard Becker uses filmmaking as the example of the most complex type of artistic endeavor in our society. Becker is writing about the different ways art is created, from individual artists working alone to large workshops fueled by the talent and effort of hundreds of people. To him, filmmaking is an artistic product that requires the specialized talents of a tremendous number of different kids of artists – writers, directors, and actors of course, and also the below-the-line work of craftspeople that pull together on set and make things work. One of the most astonishing things about the production of a film or television show is the sheer number of talented people it takes to put one together.
I’ve worked in museums for many years, and one of the most interesting things about them is how little people who work in one end of a museum often know about the ones who work in the other – and how rarely anyone really seems to think about how integral everybody’s individual job is to running the whole place. The people who take care of the artifacts don’t always think much about the financial people doing fundraising for the museum, and the financial ones don’t always seem to realize that the whole point of having a museum (okay, one of them) is to care for those artifacts.
This happens in the entertainment industry, too – as an anthropologist, many people I talk to seem to think that, whatever their role, it is eternally underappreciated by everybody else who works in the industry. A few weeks ago a screenwriter told me that nobody seems to understand that without the writers, nothing would be created. Grips and other below-the-line professionals feel that they’re invisible to people outside the production office, and actors complain that people don’t understand that what they do is a craft, and requires talent and skill. And of course, there was Stanley Motts’ (Dustin Hoffman) rant in Wag the Dog about how there isn’t an Oscar for producing , because nobody knows what producers do (actually, producers usually accept the award when a film wins Best Picture).
And I think, to some degree, everybody who thinks these things is right. Each job in the industry is specialized, and professional, and involves talent and knowledge that is often hard-won through experience. And so sometimes we denigrate people who try to step outside their own profession – actors who try to write screenplays, writers who want to be showrunners or direct (my screenwriter dopplegänger Scott Frank is one), etc. But I think it’s a good thing, because it teaches everybody exactly how hard the other jobs are. That actor who is writing learns how difficult it can be to be a screenwriter. The writer who directs finds out that the directors they’ve cursed for changing their words have reasons to do the things they do.
Obviously, the industry isn’t a happy fantasyland of smiling workers all getting along and whistling while they work. But when you look at the sheer amount of collaboration and teamwork that’s required to produce any piece of media – from small independent webisodes to major motion pictures – from a social engineering perspective, it’s not exactly building the pyramids, but it’s still pretty damn impressive.
— Scott Frank
In 2010, a DIY animation spread like wildfire through social networks and old fashioned emails. There were several http://www.extranormal.com knockoffs of different departments interacting with plenty of set snark. None of them managed to capture the truth of the original.
http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/7286329/grip-vs-electric
While exaggerated for comic effect, the basis of this interaction is interdepartmental beef, the less attractive side of collaboration. Every department is in a constant struggle of personalities, politics, and logistics. Grips and Electrics share a love/hate relationship that tends to flare into dramatics more often than not. Why? Because those two departments are most dependent on each other to get their jobs done. When work is smooth, they love each other. When something snags, they hate each other. When there’s no work, they tell jokes…
What’s the difference between grips and electrics?
…Electrics take the dishes out of the sink before they pee in it.
How many grips does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
…Five: Four to hold the ladder and one to swing the hammer.
How many electrics does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
…It’s called a globe, asshole.
Why don’t cinematographers smoke?
…Because it takes them three hours to light anything.
These are the cleanest jokes.