Archive for June, 2009

A few years ago, I had decided to not attend church anymore. I was angry about some circumstances in my life and chose to shift the blame to the church. Why? Because the church was full of hypocrites. Why would I want to go there? Eventually, I began to realize that if I never wanted to brush up against hypocritical people, then I also needed to avoid the movie theater, restaurants, the mall, street carnivals, state parks and pretty much anywhere people would be. Most damning of all, I should never look in my own mirror.

What does this fustian about hypocrisy have to do with “The Biz?” Stick with me. You’ll see.

Every year, Creativity magazine hosts a director’s roundtable in which a dozen or so top-flight commercial directors gather to chew the proverbial fat about the television ad game. I love to read it, because it reminds me that directors whose day rate is roughly 5-10x my own face the same problems. (Plus, they have the additional burden of trying to figure out how to spend all that money. Ha! Suckers!) One topic in the 2007 roundtable that really piqued my interest dealt with trends in editing. During that part of the discussion, director Guy Shelmerdine asked the question, “Isn’t the editing process for the agency, almost like going on vacation for three weeks to the edit company?” That almost made me laugh out loud.

It’s become almost an apocryphal tale in every decent-sized town in this country: certain ad agencies refuse to hire local directors and post houses simply because they want to live the high life of fancy hotel suites, high bar tabs and LA traffic. Okay, maybe not so much the traffic. This point-of-view is decidedly one sided, originating with those self-same spurned directors and post houses. Ask anyone at those agencies, and they’ll tell you the local talent simply isn’t good enough for their creative.

Before I go on, I should admit that, like the accursed frequent flyers of the agency world, I’ve been blessed to travel to some beautiful locales in my work. For example, last year I directed a spot that was set in Alaska. We shot the majority of it in North Alabama. The DP and I were the only ones to travel to The Last Frontier, and then only because I couldn’t risk trusting a freelancer up there to capture the backgrounds I needed to composite into the spot. Did I have fun? Absolutely. Would I have shot the entire spot in Alaska had the budget allowed? Probably, but it’s hard to argue with the results.

At what point does this become a self-fulfilling prophecy? Agencies believe local directors and editors aren’t good enough, so they don’t hire them. As a result, local directors and editors don’t get the best creative in town, aren’t challenged to grow as artists and their reels never reflect their actual talent… so local agencies don’t hire them. But there has to be more to it than simple population ratios. If it were really as simple as hanging your shingle in a major city, quadrupling your rate and then raking in all the jobs from the Birminghams of the world, wouldn’t more directors do just that? (Although I like to think it’s that simple, because it would mean there are a bunch of small markets where I’m a genius!)

I once heard of an agency shooting a campaign Down Under, justifying it by saying that the grass there was green in December. That’s right. They shot literally halfway around the world because the grass was greener on the other side.

It seems that no matter where I go, I hear this same complaint. As one friend in the business described it, Birmingham creatives want to work in LA. LA creatives want to go to New York. And New York creatives want to go to London — or something to that effect. (I wonder if this equation ever wraps back around on itself ouroboros style, with Tokyo creatives choosing to work in Meridian, Mississippi. Probably not, but it makes me giggle.) At a recent sit-down of agency, production and post types in Atlanta, a post facility owner asked the head of a major agency why he insisted on taking the work elsewhere. His answer? “Because we can.”

Is that all there is to such a huge decision on how to spend your client’s money? I don’t think so. Agencies are facing dwindling media budgets, an increasingly fickle client base, the rise of ad metrics and the wild, wild west of new media. And with layoffs becoming the norm in ad shops, the pressure is on to do not just good, but stellar work. As a creative, you’re only as good as your last campaign. But where does a sense of civic duty fit in the mix, if it does at all? Is their an implied duty for agencies to encourage the growth and maturity of local production talent?

My primary argument against agencies convincing clients that (YOUR TOWN HERE) isn’t good enough for their production has always been that, sooner or later, they’ll start to believe it. Then they’ll start to apply that same logic to their ad agency. I’ve seen it happen more than once.

The Bible tells the story of Jesus visiting his hometown of Nazareth and teaching in the synagogue there. The locals took offense at this. They refused to believe that the son of Joseph the carpenter had enough wisdom or authority to teach them. Jesus replied, “A prophet is not without honor except in his hometown and in his own household.” I wouldn’t dare compare myself or anyone in production to Jesus, but the wisdom of that statement rings true in our industry.

What do you think? If you are an agency creative who hires out-of-town directors or post facilities, I’d love to hear what goes into your decision. And if you’re an agency creative in a town other than Birmingham, check out my reel and contact me. I can do a better job than the directors in your town. See? I told you I was a hypocrite.

The following column appeared in the 3rd Quarter 2008 issue of Coastal Homes and Lifestyles. You’ll notice the lack of Sarah Palin references in this story. Unfortunately, her presence in the Great Gold Pan of political news didn’t flash until shortly after my trip.

Story and photos by Wayne Franklin.

The prohibition stares me in the face, carved in stone, as it were, by the very finger of God: “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.” Or, simplified for modernity: “Don’t lie.” That’s a tough one to reconcile with my career in television and film, which is predicated on willing suspension of disbelief. In essence, I tell my audience, “What I’m about to show you is not the truth, but if you’ll allow yourself to believe the lie, it’ll be worth it.”

At least my latest lie has roots in truth. In creating a commercial for a state university, we are working from a true story of alumni “meeting cute” on a lake in the wilds of Alaska. Due to a modest budget, we choose to shoot on Lake Guntersville in northeast Alabama. Guntersville is a beautiful lake with miles of undeveloped shoreline. There’s only one problem: no matter how pristine, Alabama ain’t Alaska. Given their alphabetical proximity, I thought the two states would be more similar. After all Alabama and Arkansas look an awful lot alike, and Alaska’s even closer in the alphabet. It turns out that doesn’t guarantee topographic similarity. Who knew?

So we use Guntersville for our foreground action, seaplanes and talent. (“Talent” means actors in the biz, but my crew often remind me the real talent is behind the camera. Actors are just meat that talks.) After we wrap in Guntersville, director of photography David Adams and I load up the plane and move to Denali. Kenai, actually. Midnight sun. Moose and stars. This is when the lies really begin.

Lie #1: AIR TRAVEL IS COMFORTABLE
We board a small jet in Birmingham for the short hop to Houston. When I say small, I mean David and I look like Gandalf trying to navigate the Hobbit hole of Bilbo Baggins. In Houston, we board a larger plane for the trip to Anchorage. We’re seated near the back. When I say seated, I mean wedged into place using a shoehorn, a crowbar and a generous dollop of Crisco.

Lie #2: MEN OUTNUMBER WOMEN IN ALASKA FOUR-TO-ONE
Once fire crews extract us from the plane using the jaws of life, we make our way to car rental. The first thing we notice about Alaska is that everyone is female. My theory: the men of Alaska concocted the 4:1 story to encourage even more beautiful women to move to the Last Frontier —a shrewd move, and one that seems to be working. (Ladies, did I mention that Birmingham is overrun with fit, wealthy and charming men? You know, just FYI.)

Lie #3: ALASKA CAN’T BE THAT BEAUTIFUL
We head south on the Seward Highway toward Girdwood. This stretch of highway winds along the shores of the Turnagain Arm, so named by Captain Cook when navigating the mud flats at low tide. David, however, thinks I am saying “Tourniquet Arm.” I don’t correct him. It’s more fun that way. The scenery here — the bay, the rocky, snow-capped peaks — is simply stunning.

Lie #4: DON’T EXPECT TO SEE WILDLIFE FROM THE HIGHWAY
Given the purpose of this trip, I don’t expect to see much Alaskan fauna. A few minutes in, however, a bald eagle swoops low just in front of our car. This majestic bird brings to mind only one thing: Ben Franklin was an idiot for suggesting the turkey be named our national bird. Oh, look! There’s a mountain goat grazing by the side of the road! At this rate, I expect to see a polar bear in the lobby of our hotel.

Lie #5: YOU CAN’T STAY ANYPLACE NICE FOR ONLY $130
At this discounted rate, I don’t have high hopes for our hotel. We arrive at Alyeska Resort in Girdwood, and I realize that idiocy is a Franklin tradition. The place is swanky! Above the warm, wood-paneled lobby is a room-sized diorama of the surrounding Chugach Mountains. And perched above me on Styrofoam boulders … a polar bear! Sure, he’s been shot, stuffed and mounted, but I told you so.

Lie #6: YOU’LL GET ACCUSTOMED TO THE LONG DAYS
We dine at the Chair 5 Restaurant on native dishes like halibut fingers, elk burgers and Moose Drool beer. (OK, Moose Drool is actually from Montana, but I drink it every time I’m out
West … and you should too!) We head back to the Alyeska around 11pm, 45 minutes before sunset. Dotting the sidewalks are people out strolling, riding bikes and playing with their kids. It takes all my self-control not to shout at them, “Don’t you know what time it is!? Go to bed!”

Lie #7: I’M NOT THAT OUT OF SHAPE
Girdwood (all of Alaska, for that matter) is a paradise of outdoor activity, and it shows on the bodies of the people here. Suddenly, I wish I had brought more baggy sweatshirts.

Lie #8: THIS TRIP IS ALL ABOUT WORK
We can only shoot when it’s relatively sunny out. The cool, overcast weather the rest of the time allows us to do some sightseeing. The drive along Seward Highway only gets more beautiful beyond the “Tourniquet Arm.” It should be impossible to be nostalgic for a place and time in which you never lived, but in our media- saturated society, it isn’t. Winding through glacial valleys, surrounded by high mountains that burst forth lush and green at their bases, rising to white, snowy peaks, I feel as if I’m in an old postcard or one of those Disney nature films from the ‘50s. It’s both familiar and new, like a kiss from an old flame.

Seward is perfectly charming, complete with 1880s era main street and a modern harbor front lined with quaint little shops. We venture into one of the eateries, Chinooks Waterfront. The food is fine, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the view of the harbor and Resurrection
Bay beyond.

Lie #9: SCAT MAKES FOR GOOD DINNER CONVERSATION
We wrap the day with a short hike to the foot of Exit Glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park. I expected to see glaciers on this trip, but not to walk right up and touch one! What? Off-limits signs warning of ice fall? Never saw them. We haven’t seen as much wildlife today. The best we see on the trail is lots of scat from some large mammal. We barge into the Resurrection Roadhouse at closing time for dinner. Before we place our orders, I ask our server about the scat, describing it in fine detail. For some reason, David thinks this inappropriate. I offer to table the topic until a more apropos time … say, dessert?

Lie #10: IT’S NOT REALLY TOUGHER IN ALASKA
The next morning finds us in the tiny port of Whittier. Whittier is a study in contrasts. As the northernmost ice-free port in America, it was a valuable location for the Army during World War II. That’s why they built the 2.5-mile long, narrow railway tunnel to the town. Today, trains share the tunnel with cars on a rotating basis, reflecting the duality of this hamlet with its working port and thriving tourist industry.

The harbor front is like a miniature version of that in Seward. We hit the Orca Café for a salmon burger and to escape the low-30s windchills. Sitting here, looking out over the Prince William Sound, it’s easy to forget the single creepiest place I’ve ever seen in my life. The Army built the Buckner Building as a “city in a building.” It was permanently abandoned after the Great Alaskan Earthquake of 1964. If no one has shot a Japanese-style horror film there yet, they should. But it won’t be me. I can’t even bring myself to take a picture of it. In Whittier, we see some of the crustiest, toughest fishermen you can imagine — all rubber boots and oilskin coats and scraggly gray walrus mustaches. In Seward, we had overheard young guys laughing about the glut of “surviving Alaska” reality shows on TV. Standing here, looking at these guys in the harsh weather of Whittier in June, I believe it really is tougher in Alaska.

Lie #11: CAJUN FOOD IN ALASKA MUST BE TERRIBLE.
It’s our final day in Alaska. We decide to grab one last local meal. We turn our noses up at a place called the Double Musky Inn. Their cuisine was described as Cajun. Two problems with that: 1. I want wild game, halibut, salmon and more halibut, and 2. I know good Cajun food, and it’s not in Alaska. We instead choose to bookend our trip with another tasty meal at Chair 5.

As we tool around Anchorage before our flight, locals keep asking if we tried the Double Musky. When I get home, I Google the place. Not only is it considered the finest restaurant in Alaska, but one of the best in the entire country! Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to eat there when I take the family to Alaska next summer, and I do intend to go back. That is no lie.

Writer’s note: I likely won’t make it back to Alaska this summer. Chalk that up as lie #12.

View this article as it originally appeared in Coastal Homes & Lifestyles.

The author acts like he’s working for the camera.

Either of these guys could kill me… just for the halibut.

Gazing down Capt. Cook’s “Tourniquet Arm.”

When they say “Historic Downtown Seward,” they mean it.

The guardian of the Great Alaska Railway Station.

I’ve found that they do… if they eat enough gassy foods.

Boats in the Seward Harbor, Resurrection Bay.

A tack shop in Cooper’s Landing.

The Chair 5 Restaurant in Girdwood — awesome halibut!

The Great Alaska Railway.

The Orca Cafe in Whittier — home of a great salmon burger!

One of the glacial lakes in Moose Pass, Alaska.

DP David Adams shoots from a scenic overlook.

Shops along the harbor in Whittier.

Shops along the Seward Harbor.

The only bull moose we saw on our trip.

The view from a scenic overlook on Seward Highway.

Looking Southwest along the Seward Highway.