Showing posts with label recording shows. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recording shows. Show all posts

Monday, May 10, 2010

Execution Á La Television

Behind the executioner there's always someone who has power. Or stupid, and he doesn't know yet what the bets are.

Review meeting about the first show meant to go on air. Present: the programming director of the channel; B., the producer; M., the editor-in-chief; Miss Sylvie, "show host"; Mark, the other editor; myself and also the secretary and a bunch of interns. We re-edited the show three times (I was sitting in the mounting chamber until morning), you can't make gold of mud. As an old mentor of mine said, it's "crap as it is", hence you can't make it any better. Sylvie is catastrophic, endlessly mannerly, like a veterinary student's horse that suffers from every possible illness as she makes every single mistake an amateur can make - and in mistaking she's on a higher than amateur level. And to top if off, from every single word she utters, stupidness just shines. I finally wrote her questions word by word, and to no avail: she went in to B., came back and told me off for forcing my wrong(!) concept on her, she will just go and think up what she is curious about. (In parenthesis: she's not curious about anything else than herself, and even that just barely...)
So there we are, watching the show, I'm trying to sink and disappear I'm so ashamed to be linked to this horror. Even though the problem is not with the editing, but I absolutely know that in this field, if the show is good, it's all because of the host, but if the show is bad, it's all the editor's fault. (My respect to all the exceptions, because there do exist a few hosts who may be in the limelight of success and don't forget that it had to be the common effort of many many people that he can shine - but those are becoming few and far between.)
The cast list rolls, then silence. I would love to see into the others' brains, but I will have to content myself with what they say. And that is a catastrophe in my regards. But I know it's not true that they don't know what's wrong!
The programming director speaks first, he thanks us for the work, then passes the word on to the producer and adds that he will comment very last. B. speaks really long and really murky, the gist after all is that we "need something bigger, something bigger of a bang". I can feel the noose tightening around my neck. M. is up next. She tries to be objective, and to bring up professional arguments. She criticizes Sylvie very carefully, and says a few good notices about the edition. She won't attack me, she knows exactly that if she did so at this forum she would weaken herself too. If the show is badly edited, that's her fault too: why didn't she get the mistakes corrected.
Then comes Mark and starts to smack the show down. He even made notes. He's the neato-on-duty coworker who takes the whole review seriously. He passes by Miss Sylvie in a few words: try to be even more(!) natural. Here I almost already interrupted that "even more" supposes that she is already natural, at least a tiny little bit. But Sylvie is such a mannequin as she is, she's mannerism personified.
B. nods in agreement, the others' faces are unreadable, I'm remaining silent. And Mark moves on to the detailed analysis, smacking the editing ti death. He's not right, or maybe only in a few bits here and there, thing of which he knows exactly that Sylvie forced them into the final version, with the effective support from B.'s side. But he doesn't care the littlest about this, and B. with his excited nodding just pours more oil over the fire. My brain just explodes, and I interrupt, but then the programming director shoos me back, that my version will be heard afterwards. Mark, that sweetheart closes his rants with the phrase that we need something of a bigger bang.
I could kill him. At first I thought we could be friends, and now he attacks me slyly, I can see it's not because of stupidity, he knows what the bids are, he wants to knock me out.
Miss Sylvie also smacks me, but from her I expected nothing else. But I still do groan when she says I didn't prepare her well enough. That's too much even for M., she stands up on my side.
B. closes the debate and hammers in the last few nails into my coffin. He criticizes even those bits that he himself allowed in because of Sylvie's nagging
. When I mention this to him, with the greatest peace of mind he just says that the idea is good, just not the context in which it was realized.
It's my turn. I take Sylvie apart, then I mention a few ideas how to make the show better. That reached the spot with the programming director, he ended the meeting with saying we should do what I suggested.
I burst out of the office first. If I could've gotten Mark into my hands, I would've strangled him.

I always hated review meetings. I saw a modern realization of "divide and conquer" in them, all in a profession where there are no objective grades. What makes a show good? Number of viewers? Then is really Oprah, Judge Alex or a daytime soap opera the peak of television? Nope, and tv personnel now that. (And I have gotten bad and worse for a show that broke all kinds of viewing records...) A good show is the one that is called so by those who have the saying. Just these don't happen to be the critiques, but those with power. So the review meeting is also all about power: you can publicly execute whoever doesn't have anyone behind their backs. The really disgusting part is that the executioner is no one else but your colleague with whom you are supposed to form a team. But it's only supposed, because he has Someone behind him, Somebody who has the saying. Or he's just stupid enough not to realize what it's all about. According to my own experiences, the first type is the majority...

After the initial shock, the atmosphere at the company seem to slowly calm back down. A few people quit voluntarily, two people retired and the language education department broke out into their own company and work for us in outsourcing now. So those who stay only had to let go of a few benefits. The lethargy (mainly because of John) has slowly changed into optimism: together we can win over the recession, we will stop, what's more, turn back on the slope. And miracles, as we become stronger in our minds, new, promising discussions start with new partners about new orders. Seems as if it is really all decided in our head. It's a pity I can't say so about my private life.
But I decided to do everything to save our marriage. Because the girls need a father, and I need a husband. We can't throw away everything, ten years, all the memories together because of a few worse months in our lives. Peter and I paid a huge initial price for our relationship. If we give it up now, we will retroactively make all those things unforgivable. Then we thought that fate meant us to be together, even if this causes pain to others
...
Yesterday, after weeks we finally talked again, just like in the old days. We listened to each other and we really wanted to solve the problems. Peter told me all about the new host, M., B., the review meeting. I can see how he suffers. He knows all about making shows, but nothing about stirring shit, shining himself or telling long tales. And even though now I wouldn't feel so bad if he was just a bit less scrupulous, I try to remind myself that usually that's why I liked him, that he's not like that.
Maybe I should send John's connections against the company? I never mentioned that to Peter, I know exactly that John is a "persona non grata" for him, not even mentioning how humiliating he would find it if it was exactly my boss acting in his favor. (And it would be.)

I did mention though,what if Peter just quit (in the meantime, I tried not to think of the dangerously quickly emptying checking account). Now he wasn't all against it. He said he would correct the show so they won't think he ran away from the challenge, then give them one more week, and if there's still no contract or money, he's quitting.
I also asked him all about M. If there was any sort of a harmony between them, it was over. He can't appreciate her anymore because she's too weak and calculates everywhere
. Peter finally realized that M. is only granting him so much attention, she's only being so nice because she needs her against B. Or to knock Sylvie out of the saddle so she can conquer B.'s bed on her own... And for that she wants to pay Peter with a few mean-it-as-you-will gestures instead of getting him a contract and standing up for him.
We also mentioned our finances. Since he touched our money, I keep the keys to the treasury and only give him money for the most necessary things. So he didn't even know how bad we are. I could see he was interested in where all the savings went, but he didn't ask. Instead, he tried to calm me by saying that if we do go down, he will borrow from his parents. But I know that if he had the choice, he would rather rob a bank than borrow from his parents. His parents kept nagging him that if he joined them in the family business, he would be a rich man now.

At night he moved back in next to me from the study that he converted into a gym, where he has been sleeping in the last few weeks. His sheets smelled like a high school locker room. But that's not why nothing has happened (there is such a degree in missing sex when such a detail doesn't matter anymore). I think he's afraid of failure. I didn't force him, we talked until morning and that was a lot more than what I got from him in the last few hopeless months.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Losers and Machos in the TV

I can feel the cold sweat dripping. I think of our house, foreclosed by the bank.

This week started like any other would, too. A meeting here, a presentation there, and then a group mail on Tuesday: non-scheduled meeting at one, compulsory for all. The corridor gossip started immediately, we were also caught with the recession, the management is not satisfied with the results, tightenings are on, and lay-offs are coming. I was just trying to comfort the others that there won't be anything bad, I know from John that the data are not that tragic, they calculated for the drops already.
Still, the meeting had a mood of gloom over it, the big boss was crunching his joints, writing long columns of data on the board, then he finally said that rationalization is necessary, we have to get rid of unnecessary parallel positions, we need to let some people go, else the company won't be able to stay afloat. Or: we can all agree to take a pay cut. He leaves this decision up to us, we need to tell our supervisor how we chose.
My immediate boss, John didn't leave me any time to think. He called me in immediately after the meeting. I couldn't even call Peter to tell him to finally get somewhere with B. about his contract. At least if I knew how much he will make, I could negotiate from a better position.
John tries to smile, but I can immediately see that there's some deep trouble. He tells me too how grave consequences the recession has.
I can feel the cold sweat dripping. I think of our house, foreclosed by the bank. The kids, who don't understand why they have to pack up their toys, why they have to move to a tiny apartment, so small they don't have enough space...
- Speaking of which, does Peter work already? - John pulls me back from the nightmare.
- Yes - I answer quickly. - Or well, not quite - I try to clarify. I'm fighting back tears as I explain that he still doesn't have a contract, we don't know how much he will make.
- Well that sure sounds bad - he says even gloomier. He's silent for a bit, and I'm contemplating running out of the office so he won't see me cry.
- Do you want me to put a few knives over his company's throat through my connections? It's just not cool that he works for weeks, but he not only doesn't get a contract, but not even a puny verbal agreement!
He shows that my husband is the loser with whom this can be done. And he's the big guy whose hand reaches everywhere. I hate these conceited machos, but I can't help it but see Peter more and more pitiful. As I hate weakness.
- Just let me know if I should fire up the connections! - John offers once again as I'm just silent. - And about the situation here, well, a few people mentioned why do we need a head of communications when we don't even get any orders...
I can't hold my tears back any longer.
- Oh, oh, no need to despair whilst I'm here! - he says and walks around his desk. He puts his hand on my shoulder as he continues: - Naturally, I would never agree to let you go. After all, we do make a fine team, the two of us.
He takes out a tissue and hands it to me.
- And about the pay cut, I persuaded the others, that your contract is a recession contract already, not from the good old days when our picket fence was made of salami still. We can't take any off of it, so we will reduce your optional perks a bit so they can't say that we make an exception of you.
At first I feel relief. That's it? But when he grabs my shoulder firmer, I frighten. I'm afraid he will hand me the bill right now. I raise my head almost pouting. I decided. If he blackmails me, I quit right now, I won't let myself be used...
But John sits back to his place.
- And in that other case just let me know and I will help immediately. Please send in the next one!
I can't go back to the office. I run out to the bathroom, I lock myself in a stall, and pushing my back against the wall I start to weep.
If Peter was there at that time, I think I would've scratched his eyes out.

I have read these times several times, but at that time I couldn't ask my questions to Sophie anymore. They slowly and quietly cooled away from each other with Peter, I think that's the best description for those times. They were rowing their own separate boats, and barely met. Peter put all his efforts into the new channel. True, it wasn't all the work, more the self-defense. And more and more it seemed to be useless:

The recordings have started. M. has officially asked me to train Sylvie. She was telling it to me as happily as if he was getting a root canal. The night before they went somewhere with B. The next day there was no word of her quitting if Miss Sylvie will be a host. So she became one. What could've happened that night, I couldn't extort from M. If I tried to mention it, she got serious and moved to another topic. Since then she has been avoiding Sylvie. She even calls me on the phone to ask me to pass her a message, even though we all sit in the same office space. We are still on good terms, but our relationship is nowhere near as close as it was.
I'm trying to prepare Miss Sylvie. Not a great experience. She's factory defective about show hosting talent. The interviewees don't interest her, nor does the topic. Maybe if an A-class celebrity bumps into her microphone. Then she tries to do her best, but even this is not enough of a motivation for her to actually prepare for it.

Maybe after the second trial interview, she started to edit too. When I explained to her why the conversation was worse than words can describe, she lunged at me that it was the interviewee's fault. I very gently tried to calm her down and put her back into work mode when she ran to B. A few hours later B. took a peek into the next conversation, grunted and hummed a few times and then he announced that for the real shootings we should prepare new topics and new guests. "We need a bigger boom here" - that's what he kept saying. What he meant by it, he never explained. "You know that well! You didn't start this business yesterday." Well, true, I did not. But Miss Sylvie did. Still, she over-edited the first show completely. If I didn't let her do something, she just ran straight to B. And after a while B. didn't even make the effort to come over and tell me the changes. He just simply sent a message via Sylvie. The bitch soon got the scheme and quickly she just started saying B. wants it so, B. wants it different. Well I didn't come off the shore today either. I knew it exactly that she referred to B. even when she has never talked to him about it. When she wanted me to do things I could not take up with my reputation, I turned to M. She listened to me, and then with a discreet face she only asked me to hang in there, the game is not over yet. I would love to enter against the dark side so I can speed things up a bit, after all it is ridiculous that with my years of experience I have to get a cramp in my stomach every time I have to sit down and prepare a completely talent-less, beginner show host. If I could, I would just throw the desk at her head... And then at B.'s.