Oh, and just in case you haven't heard: After
keeping busy with numerous projects and soundtracks since the group's last
proper studio album, 1997's way underrated 50,000 B.C., the members of Shudder
To Think are staging a full-scale reunion August 10 in Baltimore at the Virgin
Mobile Festival.
Who's That Girl? (Or Guy)
I've always been curious about how people who
write about films directly associate an actor with their past work. By that, I
mean that any time I read a DVD box and get the film blurb, it'll describe the
plot and then point out other films that an actor has been in, such as "Samuel
L. Jackson (The
Man, Snakes
On A Plane) and Robert Downey Jr. (Gothika, Weird Science)." I wonder how they pick
which films to reference. Do the people who write the blurbs use the same
system as film critics? When you guys do this, do you just pick whatever film
strikes your fancy? If it were me, I think I'd be unable to help myself from referencing
the worst possible films (as my example above may illustrate).
Jess
Tasha Robinson doesn't always give in to
temptation:
Film critics and blurb-writers generally aren't
using the same system there, Jess, because their intentions are different. A
blurb-writer sending out a press release or writing copy for a DVD case is
generally trying to sell a film, sometimes to a very specific intended
audience, and will pick past films accordingly. For instance, the press packet
for Iron Man
prominently notes that star Robert Downey Jr. is the Oscar-nominated and
BAFTA-winning star of Chaplin, and was in the Oscar-nominated George Clooney
film Good Night, And Good Luck—even though Chaplin was 16 long years ago,
and he's had a number of more prominent and more recent roles than the one in Good
Night, And Good Luck.
That's because the press-release writer is specifically trying to sell a big
blockbuster film, and is seizing on the roles that make Downey sound most like
a big, important, award-winning actor. And also because Downey doesn't have a
history of starring in summer action blockbusters; you can bet that if he had
even minor supporting roles in, say, Transformers and The Phantom Menace, a DVD blurb would
mention those roles instead of the award-winners, because publicists are trying
to sell Iron Man to
roughly the same big-action-movie-fan audiences. Basically, a blurb-writer is
looking for something, anything, that might cause a casual fan looking at the
back of the Iron Man box to go ahead and pick it up. The best films to cite would
be ones that Iron Man fans already flocked to in droves. Failing that, there are
the award-winners, or films that were at least successful with some audiences.
Film critics, on the other hand, are usually not
trying to sell you a film. They're far more likely to be trying to jar your
memory and remind you who a given actor is. You'll note that The A.V. Club, at least, doesn't do
that with all our reviews—we assume you already know who Robert Downey
Jr. and Samuel L. Jackson are. But since you might not instantly know who, say,
Hanna Schygulla from On The Edge Of Heaven is, we'll reach back to
another memorable role she had (in, say, Werckmeister
Harmonies) to remind you. There's a mental
balancing act that goes on there, as we try to figure out which Schygulla
role might mean something to the largest number of readers: What has she been
in most recently? What has she had the most prominent or memorable role in?
What movie was she in that might itself have been prominent enough to have
reached a large audience? What have we ourselves seen? (We might wind up citing
a lesser Schygulla film if we aren't up on her most
recent work and don't want to risk citing something that might turn out to be a
poorer example of her work.)
Of course, it has been noted that critics can
expose some of their own prejudices, or just re-emphasize the gist of the
review they're writing, when picking the movies they use to ID an actor. Someone
who really likes the latest Halle Berry movie is far more likely to remind
readers that she's the Oscar-winner from Monster's Ball, while someone who hates
her latest project is probably going to be the one to cite her as the star of Gothika, Catwoman, Perfect Stranger, or Swordfish. It probably varies
according to individual critics whether this is a conscious attempt to make
Berry look better or worse, or is just a reflexive choice based on personal
attitudes. But critics tend to be an analytical bunch by nature, so you can bet
a good number of them are giving into that temptation you mentioned, to cite
the worst-case scenarios from someone's checkered past.
Also, You're Free To Wear Sunscreen
I actually have to give a speech for graduates
this year, and I was thinking about referencing a movie I'm pretty sure I saw
as a junior-high-schooler. Of
course, my recollection of it is vague, which is why I need your help.
The gist of this movie was to take advantage of
your high-school and college years because these are the greatest years. I believe the theme song even had a
chorus singing "These Are The Greatest Years" as an outro. The entire film was probably less than
an hour and consisted of this guy doing stand-up, or telling stories about
growing up. I want to find this
and see if it holds up or if it sucks.
Dave From Rochester
Kyle Ryan holds it up:
I saw the same film at an assembly my freshman
year of high school. If memory serves, the guy kind of looked and dressed like
Dave Coulier from Full House, but I remember him being
slightly funnier. Still, it was 100 percent cheese.
Anyway, the film came out in 1981 and was called The Greatest Days Of Your Life… (So Far), and the comic was Mark
Sharenbroich. Unsurprisingly, Sharenbroich went on to have a
successful career as a motivational speaker. He's the founder of something
called the "Nice Bike principle" that "connects management to the front line."
Sharenbroich's website claims the video was seen
by more than one million people—probably all of them trapped in similar
school assemblies—and earned him Golden Apple and Silver Screen awards.
I couldn't find any YouTube clips, but there's an audio
clip from it—featuring an inspirational rock song!—on
marktheteacher.com.
You
Have Only The Right To Remain Silent
I
almost hate to admit it here, but I do regularly watch American Idol. Only this year have the
contestants been given permission to perform songs by The Beatles. Also, there was some
controversy this week about David Archuleta's overzealous stage-dad getting his
boy to change the lyrics to "Stand By Me," which the producers said
he shouldn't do because then they'd have to pay for permission to use the other
song's lyrics he borrowed. My
question is this:
since
any radio station can play pretty much any song they want, and any band can
cover other artists' songs, why do bands suddenly get veto power if the song is
to be used on TV or in a movie? I'm also thinking about the erasing of pop songs from WKRP in Cincinnati and
Led Zeppelin's famous refusal to grant permission to most uses of their songs. What gives?
Taiwanjason
Tasha
Robinson again:
I
started to knock off a quickie, behind-the-scenes response to your letter,
Taiwanjason, explaining that you're just framing the problem incorrectly
because your assumptions are way off. But then I realized I was overreaching my
knowledge, so I consulted with someone I know who happens to be the business
manager of a record company, and who deals with these kinds of rights issues
and fees on a regular basis. He let me know that my assumptions were off too.
Here's the brief digest of what he told me:
Commercial
radio stations can't just "play whatever they want"—at least not for
free. They have a legal blanket permission to play songs at will, and don't
have to seek out permission for each song, which would make commercial radio a
bureaucratic nightmare. But stations do have to track everything that they play
and pay licensing fees back to the songs' publishers, which (supposedly) pass
that money on to the songwriters. And bands can play what they want to play
live—probably because there's no easy way to track, say, who's playing
"Freebird" on a given night—but venues cover the cost of
licensing the performed songs by buying licenses from performing-rights
organizations like ASCAP and SESAC, and unlicensed venues face fines and
possible shutdown. ASCAP—the American Society Of Composers, Authors, And
Publishers—is aggressive about protecting musical copyright, and made
history by going after performers who played covers of songs solely on the Web
without paying ASCAP fees. The organization even threatened to sue the Boy
Scouts for singing ASCAP-licensed songs without paying fees in advance.
And
that's just for playing a recording on your radio station, or singing the song
in public. If you want to actually record or transmit a cover of a song, you
pay a different set of fees. If you want to cover, say, a Beatles a song on
your CD, you pay a statutory rate to the publisher, and you have the legal
right to record the song without getting specific permission. But if you want
to perform that same song on DVD, it's considered the equivalent of television
performance, and you have to get special permission in advance in addition to
paying a fee.
But
it's possible from the wording of your question that you already understood all
this, and were just being a little flippant, and what you really wanted to know
was why all these different types of rights are regulated in such different
ways. Well, that's because they're overseen by different organizations in
different ways. And the laws regulating different types of song use and
performance were made at different times, have become separate areas of law
over the years, and were influenced by groups with varying amounts of power,
depending on the time. (ASCAP, for instance, arguably had its era of greatest
power in the '30s, when it was setting the radio rates, and before rival
organization BMI was formed as competition.) If you really want to get into it,
you might start with Wikipedia's page section
on music royalties, which explains, for instance, the difference
between mechanical rights (recording on CDs), performance rights, digital
rights (through Web streaming and the like), and so forth. It also gives the
actual fees, in case you want to know, say, what it would cost you to cover a
song on a CD, and it gets into the origins of some of these types of rights.
It's a big, complicated field with a long, complicated history.
But
one way or another, it isn't free and unregulated. If you're making money off
of someone else's work or incorporating it into your own for-profit artwork,
you're generally obligated to pay them in one form or another, according to one
set or rules or another. Hence all the recent flap about sampling, and whether
"fair use" principles would let artist A use a snatch of Artist B's music songs
without getting permission or paying fees. Tempting, isn't it, to have a shot
at avoiding the whole mess altogether?
Next week: When media privilege
becomes a burden, and when it doesn't. Send your questions to [email protected].
