It's likely that any critics of this post will mention that I turned on the television at the wrong time of day (5:00 AM in this case), but as biased a time as that may be, the point was still noted by me: Out of 65 channels in my new cable subscription package, eighteen of them were showing "Paid Programming".
It is a sad reality that these are what keep station budgets afloat, and we will never escape or turn back. A local author, Gordon Castelnero, published a very entertaining book in 2006, TV Land Detroit, which chronicle shows of a bygone era: locally produced comedies and interview shows. Dubbed the "golden age" of Detroit television, the age lasted until about 1985, when syndication went the popular route.
Castelnero notes that these paid programs make tasks easier for the local programming station, as they no longer have to budget for sets and crew to fill air time. They simply are given the tape of the infomercial and are paid by the sponsor simply to air it. Sounds like the easy way out to me.
I would understand it to a point, since the goal of local access television (which I worked on) was to end up producing those programs with volunteer staff. But in this area, those channels have been virtually silenced as well by threats of budget and department eliminations.
The advent of mainstream cable television likely demanded that these stations should be on the air twenty-four hours a day. But if the station is unwilling to air reruns of classic local fare, for example, what programming material can they rely on to fill those odd hours of the night? Hence, the informercial.
These days, storage warehouses abound in this area. I'm not one for building up an area, but if we need to have those warehouses around, why can't one of them store tapes of old shows for playback later? What budget would need to be exhausted to re-air what's already there; programs that would bring back memories for the generations my age and older?
With the classic programs, yes, they may seem a bit dated in the technology and content factor, but you see real human TV personalities whose aim at that simpler time was to entertain. Critics of TV today are correct in pointing out that the original purpose of TV, to entertain, has been lost in the shuffle, coining the phrase "idiot box". And just look at the type of people that are feeding life into that phrase: idiots who do informercials.
Also consider what else I found this morning: Four stations were playing the same Donald Trump informercial at the exact same time. And can you believe MSNBC had two more hours of paid programming scheduled after 5:00 AM? With all that is going on in the world with the war, presidential candidates declaring, and everything else, why isn't an information station MSNBC do its job (airing news & viewpoints) 24 hours a day?
Believe it or not, there are sites on YouTube which pay homage to station sign-offs during the days when 24 hour operation was not possible. When people post these clips online with a great wave of nostalgia, you know something's wrong with the 24-hour choice.
Unfortunately, cable television providers would balk at seeing eighteen channels off the air, showing only color bars and that annoying tone. They are thinking of the bottom line, which is live airtime. But when something from Ronco or ITV becomes more ingrained in an insomniac's mind than shows which strive for Nielsen ratings... there renews the "idiot box" phrase time & again.
I was without cable TV from August until yesterday... and it didn't take long to rediscover the one reason why I preferred boredom over late-night viewing.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
Reflection: Televising Improv
Today, my thoughts went back to my most ambitious creative project that skimmed the ground briefly before running out of gas.
About the same time my sports show Four-Pro Forum was being produced at the college, I met up with a man who was a graduate of Detroit's chapter of Second City comedy club. Jerry was a specialist at improv, a comedy niche I knew something about, but not totally. What I did know was that nothing of that nature was televised before, it had only been staged.
I attempted to break through and produce a variety show, Kaveman's Korner, that would combine Jerry's comedic talents with my take on a Tonight Show / Late Show format.
It was an interesting premise as we devised the script for the first show. I expected interest to come from a lot of the students in the production classes, but either they were unsure, or scared, to see something that major being produced. No one had tried to produce a variety show of that magnitude in the small, cramped studio on campus, and I quickly found this out -- although I was willing to work around it.
"Kaveman" was perhaps the most challenging show I had come up with or worked on. I can't count the re-enactment of Annie Hall that our class did, or the remake of Pulp Fiction that I edited for my final class project. This show would be a one-hour, straight through, with previously-recorded roll-ins introducing various comedy sketches.
Those side sketches, called "wrap-arounds" in the business, were the easiest to produce, and were very naturally funny. The actual studio segments, though, were quite hard. We had to squeeze a curtained stage, interview desk, and platform for a four-piece live band into a 150-square foot area, then strike the set when finished. There was action in all corners of the studio, but as I found later, not enough lighting and not enough microphones. My friend Alan always salivated at the prospect of assisting on major productions, but even he became frustrated with the lack of mobility, and frustrating him was something that was not easy to do.
But what became the most tedious was the reaction to Jerry's material. I found out that improv does not produce the same type of pacing as regular comedy or interview spots do. On the first show, he opened with a two-minute explanation of what improv really was. To say I wasn't shaking my head to myself would be a lie, but I was hoping for the best. I didn't think for one moment I was in over my head, but I guess the lack of interest from staff members may have dictated otherwise, though I would never have admitted it.
All good comedians will tell you that audience reaction is do-or-die; they thrive off positive reaction and are encouraged to become funnier off-the-cuff if the reception is warm. We had no room for an audience, so I had to insert a laugh track in post-production. But in presenting material before the cameras, he had to rely on banter with his bandleader and nothing else. This disappointed him more than anything. I wasn't keen about shooting on location, and to make a long story short, it contributed to the premature ending of this idea and the parting of ways.
I regret all partings that happen before their time, and I do wish that I had put forth a little more effort into being more flexible. That's part of who I am as a producer: I will admit faux pas, even though they may come late. Would this be a show I would do now? I would definitely try again, given better facilities, and a better understanding of how the genre of improv works.
Apparently, improv is not at its best when staged deliberately. If the natural aura is killed, so must be the enthusiasm. I only wish I knew - it would have been a very interesting & unique pedigree on my record if it had gone through.
About the same time my sports show Four-Pro Forum was being produced at the college, I met up with a man who was a graduate of Detroit's chapter of Second City comedy club. Jerry was a specialist at improv, a comedy niche I knew something about, but not totally. What I did know was that nothing of that nature was televised before, it had only been staged.
I attempted to break through and produce a variety show, Kaveman's Korner, that would combine Jerry's comedic talents with my take on a Tonight Show / Late Show format.
It was an interesting premise as we devised the script for the first show. I expected interest to come from a lot of the students in the production classes, but either they were unsure, or scared, to see something that major being produced. No one had tried to produce a variety show of that magnitude in the small, cramped studio on campus, and I quickly found this out -- although I was willing to work around it.
"Kaveman" was perhaps the most challenging show I had come up with or worked on. I can't count the re-enactment of Annie Hall that our class did, or the remake of Pulp Fiction that I edited for my final class project. This show would be a one-hour, straight through, with previously-recorded roll-ins introducing various comedy sketches.
Those side sketches, called "wrap-arounds" in the business, were the easiest to produce, and were very naturally funny. The actual studio segments, though, were quite hard. We had to squeeze a curtained stage, interview desk, and platform for a four-piece live band into a 150-square foot area, then strike the set when finished. There was action in all corners of the studio, but as I found later, not enough lighting and not enough microphones. My friend Alan always salivated at the prospect of assisting on major productions, but even he became frustrated with the lack of mobility, and frustrating him was something that was not easy to do.
But what became the most tedious was the reaction to Jerry's material. I found out that improv does not produce the same type of pacing as regular comedy or interview spots do. On the first show, he opened with a two-minute explanation of what improv really was. To say I wasn't shaking my head to myself would be a lie, but I was hoping for the best. I didn't think for one moment I was in over my head, but I guess the lack of interest from staff members may have dictated otherwise, though I would never have admitted it.
All good comedians will tell you that audience reaction is do-or-die; they thrive off positive reaction and are encouraged to become funnier off-the-cuff if the reception is warm. We had no room for an audience, so I had to insert a laugh track in post-production. But in presenting material before the cameras, he had to rely on banter with his bandleader and nothing else. This disappointed him more than anything. I wasn't keen about shooting on location, and to make a long story short, it contributed to the premature ending of this idea and the parting of ways.
I regret all partings that happen before their time, and I do wish that I had put forth a little more effort into being more flexible. That's part of who I am as a producer: I will admit faux pas, even though they may come late. Would this be a show I would do now? I would definitely try again, given better facilities, and a better understanding of how the genre of improv works.
Apparently, improv is not at its best when staged deliberately. If the natural aura is killed, so must be the enthusiasm. I only wish I knew - it would have been a very interesting & unique pedigree on my record if it had gone through.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Read about forward progress
On my sister blog, Through The Passive Mind Of One (which I will link to on this one), I began detailing about my job searches to resurrect my career. On January 26th, I was looking into three possible out-of-town jobs that would get me back into a career I love.
Fine time for the internet to go down, however... and with it, a recurrence of an old back injury I suffered at my current job some time ago, which won't help the search process.
The internet should be reconnected at the house by the 9th of February, at which time I will resume and expand my job search. This forum will now detail those attempts to get back to where my mind knows I need to be.
Keep reading... and keep them fingers crossed.
Fine time for the internet to go down, however... and with it, a recurrence of an old back injury I suffered at my current job some time ago, which won't help the search process.
The internet should be reconnected at the house by the 9th of February, at which time I will resume and expand my job search. This forum will now detail those attempts to get back to where my mind knows I need to be.
Keep reading... and keep them fingers crossed.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
The unassembled finale
I realized one of my more immediate goals early on in my TV production career by producing & hosting a local history show, Pages Of Time. I had thought of the idea while doing a mini-cam remote in Grosse Ile on the history of trolleys, trains, and inter-urban transportation in Michigan.
I was so engrossed by that presentation that I wondered why suburbia's history wasn't presented more often. Detroit is obviously the focal point of all documentaries, but the suburbs had a rich history as well that wasn't just all about riverfront industry. I decided to fill that hole by immersing myself into detailed research that was a pleasure to do, was well-received by many older locals, and nearly won myself a production award in doing so.
Time constraints on my part limited its run to one season only. I shot much footage for the final show, but I never ended up putting it together.
When I was active in the field, I never had anything less than 100% motivation behind my efforts. If I was lagging, I knew something was wrong. It was extremely difficult (and ultimately proved impossible) for me to gather the footage I shot to detail the history of the Wyandotte Car Company, a major toy-maker during World War II.
Part of the reason, I hate to admit, was my discomfort of dealing with a museum manager who will remain nameless here. He eyed me suspiciously throughout the taping, as though I had a motive. I had no motive, unless you count the desire to publicize history as an instance. I could not be faulted for that, and yet here I was, anxious to just pack up the camera mid-way through the shoot while saying "Thanks, anyway." My professionalism carried me through that long afternoon, although I came home wondering why I made the trek there.
Editing the piece proved impossible. The atmosphere at the taping kept getting to me. And with that, a dragged-out feeling, knowing that not everyone appreciated their history being known. For what purpose, especially from a museum curator, I have no idea. Within two months, the program idea was dead, and it was unfortunate.
What was more unfortunate was the demise of this curator. I respect him enough to not detail what happened, but I will say I wasn't too surprised when I learned of the circumstances. It wasn't out of revenge that resulted in lack of surprise, but I just nodded my head and said, "It figures."
I also figured I saved myself a giant headache -- in spite of the result being that the program itself had died. I appreciate local history as much now as before, but much more so as a casual listener & appreciator, versus a documentarian.
Some things are just better left off for others to tape.
I was so engrossed by that presentation that I wondered why suburbia's history wasn't presented more often. Detroit is obviously the focal point of all documentaries, but the suburbs had a rich history as well that wasn't just all about riverfront industry. I decided to fill that hole by immersing myself into detailed research that was a pleasure to do, was well-received by many older locals, and nearly won myself a production award in doing so.
Time constraints on my part limited its run to one season only. I shot much footage for the final show, but I never ended up putting it together.
When I was active in the field, I never had anything less than 100% motivation behind my efforts. If I was lagging, I knew something was wrong. It was extremely difficult (and ultimately proved impossible) for me to gather the footage I shot to detail the history of the Wyandotte Car Company, a major toy-maker during World War II.
Part of the reason, I hate to admit, was my discomfort of dealing with a museum manager who will remain nameless here. He eyed me suspiciously throughout the taping, as though I had a motive. I had no motive, unless you count the desire to publicize history as an instance. I could not be faulted for that, and yet here I was, anxious to just pack up the camera mid-way through the shoot while saying "Thanks, anyway." My professionalism carried me through that long afternoon, although I came home wondering why I made the trek there.
Editing the piece proved impossible. The atmosphere at the taping kept getting to me. And with that, a dragged-out feeling, knowing that not everyone appreciated their history being known. For what purpose, especially from a museum curator, I have no idea. Within two months, the program idea was dead, and it was unfortunate.
What was more unfortunate was the demise of this curator. I respect him enough to not detail what happened, but I will say I wasn't too surprised when I learned of the circumstances. It wasn't out of revenge that resulted in lack of surprise, but I just nodded my head and said, "It figures."
I also figured I saved myself a giant headache -- in spite of the result being that the program itself had died. I appreciate local history as much now as before, but much more so as a casual listener & appreciator, versus a documentarian.
Some things are just better left off for others to tape.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
When it was about teaching
YouTube has a great library of Sesame Street segments from the past, when I swore I was its number one fan. Sadly, these clips (save for a brief resurgence on the Noggin network in 2001) are ancient history and have never been appreciated by the generations growing up today.
What has Sesame Street been whittled down to today? Mindless junk segments meant only to make noise (and keep the infants awake), versus teaching something. Whoever made Elmo more than a supporting character should be barred from media altogether.
When I watched the show from ages 2-4, the emphasis was on learning letters and numbers. You would learn pronounciations, etc., on The Electric Company, but with time, you could understand the conversations the people on the street or the Muppets would have. Skits were creative, and yet simple for the youngsters to understand. Parents could watch the shows with them and appreciate the teaching tool the show provided.
Now Elmo takes 1/3rd of the show? With his third-person references, as in "Elmo wants, Elmo likes?" I was never told to say "Kevin likes, Kevin dislikes." The NBA has an image problem because so many of its athletes talk in the third person sense. Elmo may not have trained them directly to talk like that, but I'm sure the character influenced them. The emphasis is on visual humor these days, versus learning something.
How come the show still airs on PBS, which prides itself on being a teaching tool, I wonder.
I am grateful for the images YouTube does have, and reviewed some of them last week. I caught a glimpse of some commentary about this segment, which to my dying day I will credit for me learning to count to 20. There were many "far out, psychadelic, 'great' influence for the kids; what drugs were they on" comments, which caused one person to literally say: So it had some psychadelia, so what? People remember it, because the segment TAUGHT something.
How true. I'll never remember an episode of "Super Grover". But I'll remember all the things the show did teach me, and the fun ways the lessons were taught.
Call up YouTube sometime and type in "Sesame Street", looking for the old cartoons and viginettes. You'll see what I mean quite clearly.
What has Sesame Street been whittled down to today? Mindless junk segments meant only to make noise (and keep the infants awake), versus teaching something. Whoever made Elmo more than a supporting character should be barred from media altogether.
When I watched the show from ages 2-4, the emphasis was on learning letters and numbers. You would learn pronounciations, etc., on The Electric Company, but with time, you could understand the conversations the people on the street or the Muppets would have. Skits were creative, and yet simple for the youngsters to understand. Parents could watch the shows with them and appreciate the teaching tool the show provided.
Now Elmo takes 1/3rd of the show? With his third-person references, as in "Elmo wants, Elmo likes?" I was never told to say "Kevin likes, Kevin dislikes." The NBA has an image problem because so many of its athletes talk in the third person sense. Elmo may not have trained them directly to talk like that, but I'm sure the character influenced them. The emphasis is on visual humor these days, versus learning something.
How come the show still airs on PBS, which prides itself on being a teaching tool, I wonder.
I am grateful for the images YouTube does have, and reviewed some of them last week. I caught a glimpse of some commentary about this segment, which to my dying day I will credit for me learning to count to 20. There were many "far out, psychadelic, 'great' influence for the kids; what drugs were they on" comments, which caused one person to literally say: So it had some psychadelia, so what? People remember it, because the segment TAUGHT something.
How true. I'll never remember an episode of "Super Grover". But I'll remember all the things the show did teach me, and the fun ways the lessons were taught.
Call up YouTube sometime and type in "Sesame Street", looking for the old cartoons and viginettes. You'll see what I mean quite clearly.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Wrestling: Two views
This is in relation to the local wrestling show I helped produce in 1994-95, billed as Pro-Wrestling Ringside, and later, Wrestling Hot Seat.
The first point applies not only to this show, but to other shows that went "live" over the cable system. All "live" shows happened to be call-in shows, where viewers could call, comment, and contribute to the proceedings. This was a huge draw to volunteer crewpeople on shows like the previously-mentioned charade show.
But with the wrestling show in particular, I think call-ins were a downfall.
In regular network programming, it's called broadcasting; specifically, you are showing something to a general, broad audience. In local programming, though, you strived for narrowcasting, as each program was tailored for a specific, small group of people. You weren't out to please everyone. Each show was supposed to have its niche, narrow-cast, and therefore be the opposite of what television popularly was.
Narrow-casting, however, can weed out small groups of people who might be profane, as you would undoubtedly find when you are at a wrestling event. It's not just for the kids anymore, anyway. This is what we would be saddled with on any given production. We had to end up screening calls, half of which we couldn't put on the air anyway, because people thought the whole thing was a prank. They weren't shy about spouting profanities on the air, which we couldn't bleep out because a bad word could come without a moment's notice.
No current wrestling show on the air these days has unstaged, live calls. And look how rabidly popular they are with the audience they capture. I think the show could have done better, and many red faces could have been eliminated, if we had just shut the phone lines off and left the talent to do their scripted routines. Some of them were quite funny, and the calls would throw them off.
The second point is about marketing. Detroit has a rabid wrestling fan base, and many of them do go to the local events, where names WWE has never heard of headline as if they were legends. The show host was even a wrestling manager in character, and he had a line of tapes he'd sell to fans documenting past interviews & matches.
Why he never chose to market these tapes better, I'd have no idea. He spent a lot of time thumbing through matches, picking out the best, and providing additional commentary for them. They mean something to the narrow-casted few. It should have been pursued with the same rabid rawness that is the atmosphere for locally-produced matches.
One man's opinion only.
The first point applies not only to this show, but to other shows that went "live" over the cable system. All "live" shows happened to be call-in shows, where viewers could call, comment, and contribute to the proceedings. This was a huge draw to volunteer crewpeople on shows like the previously-mentioned charade show.
But with the wrestling show in particular, I think call-ins were a downfall.
In regular network programming, it's called broadcasting; specifically, you are showing something to a general, broad audience. In local programming, though, you strived for narrowcasting, as each program was tailored for a specific, small group of people. You weren't out to please everyone. Each show was supposed to have its niche, narrow-cast, and therefore be the opposite of what television popularly was.
Narrow-casting, however, can weed out small groups of people who might be profane, as you would undoubtedly find when you are at a wrestling event. It's not just for the kids anymore, anyway. This is what we would be saddled with on any given production. We had to end up screening calls, half of which we couldn't put on the air anyway, because people thought the whole thing was a prank. They weren't shy about spouting profanities on the air, which we couldn't bleep out because a bad word could come without a moment's notice.
No current wrestling show on the air these days has unstaged, live calls. And look how rabidly popular they are with the audience they capture. I think the show could have done better, and many red faces could have been eliminated, if we had just shut the phone lines off and left the talent to do their scripted routines. Some of them were quite funny, and the calls would throw them off.
The second point is about marketing. Detroit has a rabid wrestling fan base, and many of them do go to the local events, where names WWE has never heard of headline as if they were legends. The show host was even a wrestling manager in character, and he had a line of tapes he'd sell to fans documenting past interviews & matches.
Why he never chose to market these tapes better, I'd have no idea. He spent a lot of time thumbing through matches, picking out the best, and providing additional commentary for them. They mean something to the narrow-casted few. It should have been pursued with the same rabid rawness that is the atmosphere for locally-produced matches.
One man's opinion only.
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Computerizing was tough
Happy New Year! I figured I'd finally act on an undeclared New Year's resolution and start updating this blog every eon or so.
When I think of my television career to this point, the past must be referenced, because there's really been no "present" to speak of. I took the day shift at work to try and pursue volunteer TV efforts in the area. In three months, I've been to one shoot - and the guests were both no-shows. So I often think to a happier time when I surrounded myself with the genre, and many happy times that resulted.
However, I found out I preferred older recording & playing methods barely three years into my experience. In my final year of college, computer systems were installed in the old analog video editing labs, and we were required to get a crash-course on how to use them. Initially, I thought this would take some of the fun out of the old way of editing projects, simply because the old way was the only way I knew how.
But I would never had guessed how the fun would be siphoned out: the computers themselves. The brainy idea to "go digital" was years ahead of its time, but the manufacture of the product was woefully short in planning. I prided myself in editing hour-long and half-hour-long shows. You couldn't do more than about two minutes' material before the computers would run out of memory.
This, provided they even worked at all. My friend John was the TV person at the college, with a great background and a smart television mind. But his resources were under-utilized for a semester, as he was always in the labs, cursing in trying to find a fix to where we could edit projects, while waiting the inevitable wait for new computer chips to be ordered and brought in.
That final semester required that our last three projects be edited digitally. They were edited the old-fashioned way; we had to, in order to actually have a product to show the teacher. He could not deny us our passing grades, because we had made the effort to use the computers as much as John put forth the effort trying to maintain them. I, of course, had little patience for them, and gave up on them quicker than most other people. Like a good technician should, I recognized the technical problem quickly, and devised plans to work around it.
Now I see where digital editing is the only place to go these days, and I do find myself lacking in the requisite computer skills. It wasn't because the college refused to teach it that way. It was because the idea was years ahead of its time, years ago, and we were very slow in accepting it.
Where passing grades mattered, it left forward thinkers like me no other choice.
When I think of my television career to this point, the past must be referenced, because there's really been no "present" to speak of. I took the day shift at work to try and pursue volunteer TV efforts in the area. In three months, I've been to one shoot - and the guests were both no-shows. So I often think to a happier time when I surrounded myself with the genre, and many happy times that resulted.
However, I found out I preferred older recording & playing methods barely three years into my experience. In my final year of college, computer systems were installed in the old analog video editing labs, and we were required to get a crash-course on how to use them. Initially, I thought this would take some of the fun out of the old way of editing projects, simply because the old way was the only way I knew how.
But I would never had guessed how the fun would be siphoned out: the computers themselves. The brainy idea to "go digital" was years ahead of its time, but the manufacture of the product was woefully short in planning. I prided myself in editing hour-long and half-hour-long shows. You couldn't do more than about two minutes' material before the computers would run out of memory.
This, provided they even worked at all. My friend John was the TV person at the college, with a great background and a smart television mind. But his resources were under-utilized for a semester, as he was always in the labs, cursing in trying to find a fix to where we could edit projects, while waiting the inevitable wait for new computer chips to be ordered and brought in.
That final semester required that our last three projects be edited digitally. They were edited the old-fashioned way; we had to, in order to actually have a product to show the teacher. He could not deny us our passing grades, because we had made the effort to use the computers as much as John put forth the effort trying to maintain them. I, of course, had little patience for them, and gave up on them quicker than most other people. Like a good technician should, I recognized the technical problem quickly, and devised plans to work around it.
Now I see where digital editing is the only place to go these days, and I do find myself lacking in the requisite computer skills. It wasn't because the college refused to teach it that way. It was because the idea was years ahead of its time, years ago, and we were very slow in accepting it.
Where passing grades mattered, it left forward thinkers like me no other choice.
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