Hollywood News: WGA Battle - The Hollywood Fight That’s Tearing Apart Writers & Agents UPDATE: 2023 Strike OVER but SAG still at it!

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The Hollywood Fight That’s Tearing Apart Writers and Agents, Explained
By Jordan Crucchiola@jorcru
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A-listers like Tina Fey, Shonda Rhimes, and Oliver Stone are among the WGA members who want a code of conduct for agents.Photo: Getty Images

There is a very big fight going on in Hollywood, but since it’s a standoff built around contract negotiations and entertainment-industry minutiae, you probably haven’t heard about it unless you scour the trades for fun. But this fight affects every person who writes and creates the shows and movies we watch. For the past two months, the labor union representing those writers, the Writers Guild of America, and the people charged with finding them jobs and negotiating their compensation — the agents who comprise the Association of Talent Agents — have been in a standoff to determine the future of their working relationship. They’re fighting, of course, about money, though the particulars of who gets that money and why are pretty complicated. And depending on how a WGA vote swings this week, there could be a mass separation from every Guild-represented writer in Hollywood and the agents who connect them with the studio money to get their stuff made.

So what, exactly, is going on? Here’s everything you need to know.

First of all, who are these people?
The WGA is the labor union that represents writers across America, but they’re most well-known for representing Hollywood writers. Remember that 100-day labor strike in 2007 that resulted in Friday Night Lights having a really off second season? The WGA was the group that went on strike over a dispute with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers.

The ATA is a collective of more than 100 talent agencies, but the most important are known as the Big Four: CAA, WME, UTA, and ICM. Together, these companies dominate the industry. CAA, WME, and UTA alone “account for almost 70 percent of WGA members’ earnings,” according to the Guild.

the work of his agent, famed Endeavor CEO Ari Emanuel.

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Agents and their employers also make a lot of money through a process called “packaging,” which comes with fees from production studios. These are a big part of WGA’s grievances with the ATA, and we will get to those later.

Why is this fight happening now?
The document that dictates the terms of the ATA and WGA relationship is the Artists’ Manager Basic Agreement (AMBA), which has not been renegotiated since 1976. (For comparison, the WGA renegotiates its collective bargaining agreement with film and television producers of the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers every three years.) The entertainment industry has changed a ton over the past decade alone — demand for content is higher than ever, with companies like Amazon, Netflix, and Apple spraying fire hoses of money across the industry, while traditional networks race to keep up. But even though production and profits are at record highs, many writers say they are feeling squeezed. In a WGA document that maps out its case for alleged conflicts of interest within agencies, the Guild writes, “In each of the last three years, the companies that dominate the entertainment industry — Disney, Fox, Time Warner, Comcast, CBS, and Viacom — generated more than $50 billion in operating profits. Meanwhile, television writer-producers’ median weekly earnings declined 23 percent between 2014 and 2016.”

Shorter season orders of TV shows and changes to residuals thanks to streaming have contributed to stagnate compensation for writers. (Though WGA president David A. Goodman says wage growth is an issue that far predates season shortening.) Guild members expect their agents to fight for every extra dollar possible over union-mandated minimums, but they say agencies are no longer following through on that duty. Agencies have also sold off big portions of their companies to private equity firms over the past few years, which the Guild alleges has changed their profit motives and prompted them to de-prioritize relationships betweens agents and the writers they represent, focusing instead on owning entertainment properties — whether that means getting a cut of films or shows that clients write, or the agencies themselves buying products like the Ultimate Fighting Championship or the Miss Universe Organization, which are both now owned by Endeavor, which owns WME.

Last April, the WGA gave the ATA the requisite 12 months’ notice for terminating its Artists’ Manager Basic Agreement contract. On April 6, that deadline will be up. Negotiations only really started in February between the groups, and they haven’t been going well. Both sides characterize the other as acting in bad faith: The WGA says the ATA didn’t respond to their termination notice for months; the ATA says that’s a lie. The two groups have met six times since February, and while progress has been made on smaller points, there is no clear path to resolution regarding the Guild’s biggest concerns.

What does the Writers Guild want?
When the Guild first contacted the ATA last April, they presented a list of more than 20 points for negotiation, including protections against discrimination and unpaid work. (Writers do a lot for free, like developing spec scripts, before they can even get jobs.) But the current deadlock comes down to two issues: a standard industry practice called packaging, and the trend of agencies working with production companies, called affiliate producers, in which they have a financial stake. The Guild’s desired changes to those practices would dramatically affect how agencies do business in Hollywood.

In a February address to Guild members, Goodman laid out his concerns. “Make no mistake: Fairness is an issue here, but the fundamental reason that the leadership is recommending these changes is money,” he said. “If writer pay were steadily rising as agencies continue to package, we wouldn’t be sitting here. If writer pay were rising as agencies move into production and become our employers as well as our representatives, we wouldn’t be here. But as writers we share a common knowledge that writers overall are not doing better, we’re doing worse.”

In short, that means the WGA is calling for an end to packaging fees, and for agencies to stay away from producing.

Let’s break these terms down. What’s packaging and why does it have fees?
Packaging is the process through which agencies bundle talent to bring a project together. Say, for example, that a writer comes up with an idea for a TV show. If the writer’s agent then brings in a director or an actor to join the show — and that director or actor is represented by the same agency as the writer — that’s a package. The process of assembling packages has become so commonplace in Hollywood that 87 percent of all shows that aired during the 2016–17 season were packaged, according to the WGA, with WME and CAA responsible for 79 percent of that. (Movies can be packaged, too, and often are.)

The Guild wants to eliminate the fees that studios pay agencies for delivering those packaged bundles. In the case of TV, a fee typically amounts to $30,000 to $100,000 per episode, according to the Guild. The money for the fee is taken from a production’s budget for the project and then given directly to the agency — they are not part of a writer’s pay. The producer, director, and former agent Gavin Palone has been speaking out against packaging for years (including in New York Magazine), and this is how he broke down what’s known as the “3-3-10” structure for The Hollywood Reporter:

“The production company pays the agency a fixed percentage (usually 3 percent) of the network base license fee after each episode is produced, an equal amount deferred out of profits (if any) and a percentage of the profits (usually 10 percent).”

If a series becomes profitable, that 10 percent figure applies to the show’s gross profits for the life of the program, even if all of an agency’s clients leave the show before it’s over. In the case of very successful shows, like Friends,that could amount to millions of dollars. (ICM has reportedly madehundreds of millions from Friends over the years.) Because there’s so much money to be made in packaging, the Guild is worried that agents aren’t fighting hard for individual client compensation.

What does the ATA say about this?
ATA executive director Karen Stuart, however, says the conditions for the full “3-3-10” fee are rarely met, because so few shows hit a profit level that would lead to additional payouts. Deals with streamers like Netflix also don’t include back-end profits. (Ever the disruptor, Netflix has even changed the packaging model for agencies, further prompting the companies to look for alternate revenue streams and increased chunks of ownership in entertainment properties.) The ATA asserts that the packaging fees model is better because it allows writers to forgo paying the 10 percent commission they would otherwise have to pay their agents. A new report from the ATA says packaging saved writers from paying $49 million in commission fees last year, and UTA released its own study saying writers actually made more from shows the agency packaged than they would have on non-packaged programs.

Goodman counters that the UTA’s study was based on a “false premise.” “There is no way to compare what writers would make in a world with agency packaging and without agency packaging. Agency packaging is so dominant that it controls the whole market for writers in television,” he says.

Guild writers contend that if agents can get packaging money for themselves, they should be able to negotiate equivalent compensation on behalf of their clients, too. It’s a sentiment that The Wire creator David Simon expressed in a charactersitically heated way: “If you can only leverage profit for yourself, but not for me, what the fuck do I need you for? Why are you on this ride at all? At the point that he can only achieve benefit for himself and not for his client, what the fuck good is an agent?”

The Guild’s concern, ultimately, is that agents are not incentivized to aggressively negotiate for their clients when their financial success is divorced from commission. The union’s position is that agencies forego their fiduciary responsibilities by prioritizing profit-participation deals with studios over chasing the highest possible compensation for their writers. Or, as Goodman puts it, “Agency income should be directly tied to writer income.” That would mean reverting to a commission-only model that has not been in practice for a long time.

So what are “affiliate producers” and how are they related to this fight?
While packaging has been around for decades, agencies opening up affiliated production companiesis a relatively new phenomenon of the past three years. As Varietyreported recently, “WME, CAA, and UTA in recent years have taken steps into content production and distribution, raising conflict of interest red flags in the view of many industry insiders.” WME’s parent company, Endeavor, owns a production shingle called Endeavor Content, while CAA has a hand in WIIP, and UTA has partial ownership of Civic Center Media. According to a source familiar with the agency side who did not want to be named, these companies are beneficial to writers because they increase the number of competitive buyers for projects, and because they’re willing to pay creatives more on the back end than other studios. This source also insists that agency clients are never pressured to go with an affiliate producer, only encouraged to pursue the best deal.

Screenwriter and WGA member John Gary says companies like Endeavor Content and Civic Center Media are not bad actors overall, citing projects of his own currently in development with WIIP. But these affiliate producers are a problem, Gary says, because the talent agencies have ownership stakes in them. “We know that company structure can eventually take advantage of employees in really bad ways,” Gary tells Vulture. “And so we need to eliminate that incentive for them to take advantage of us. They’re great companies with great people working there. They just can’t be owned by the same people who own the agencies. You cannot be both a judge and a prosecutor at the same time.”

Stuart, the ATA executive director, describes affiliates as “legally separate businesses with separate management and separate operations, housed in separate offices and with separate employees,” but their profits do still go to the same parent companies. The WGA charges that affiliate producers effectively turn the agencies into their bosses, creating an ethically dubious situation where agents are tasked with getting the best contracts for writing clients and the most cost-effective deals for studios owned by the same parent company as their agencies.

How will this whole mess get sorted out?
We’re about to find out. Starting on Wednesday, March 27, Guild members will have four days to vote on a code of conduct that, if approved, will be presented to the agencies. The agencies will have to sign the code in order for Guild writers to keep working with them. The ones that don’t will be out of compliance with Guild rules, which state, “No writer shall enter into a representation agreement whether oral or written, with any agent who has not entered into an agreement with the Guild covering minimum terms and conditions between agents and their writer clients.” The code stipulates that agencies must revert back to the commission-only model — which means no more packaging fees — and that compliant agencies must sever ties with affiliate production entities. Companies like WIIP and Endeavor Content can still exist, but agencies would have to forfeit their ownership stakes to avoid conflicts of interest.

It’s been reported that some high-profile showrunners have anonymously expressed concern about the Guild’s hard-line “no compromise” language, but the WGA released a statement of support earlier this week signed by more than 700 union members pledging to vote yes on the code. A-listers like Shonda Rhimes, Jenji Kohan, Mike Schur, Oliver Stone, and Tina Fey are among the signatories.

The ATA countered the WGA’s demands about packaging and producing with a proposal that calls for transparency and increased communication measures around both practices. But that’s been a nonstarter with the Guild, since the WGA is a union lobbying for changes on behalf of a collective body, and the ATA’s “Statement of Choice” proposal operates on case-by-case terms with individual clients.

Goodman, the WGA president, has been clear about the Guild’s unwillingness to bend on the issues of packaging and producing, saying, “There are negotiations where there is no middle ground, where there are basic principles that are not subject to compromise … But it is crucial for us to understand there is no meaningful compromise where conflict of interest is concerned. It’s a binary choice. Either agencies put our interest first, and make their money from our success, or, like now, they will continue in the business of maximizing their own success while writers suffer.”

So what happens if agencies don’t sign this code of conduct?
In a divide that’s pretty indicative of this whole fight, even the language used to describe what might happen after the Guild vote is under debate. Here’s what we know: If the vote passes and the current operating agreement expires without a new one on April 6, any ATA member agencies that don’t agree to the code — not just the Big Four, but the hundreds of agencies in Hollywood — will not be allowed to represent Guild writers. The WGA frames this as a decision made by the agencies: If one doesn’t sign the code, it’s choosing to cut off client relationships due to a failure of compliance. The ATA, however, describes this scenario as writers firing their agents because of a new collective rule, framing union action as the Guild demanding its members dismiss their agents. (For instance, UTA CEO Jeremy Zimmer says, “The WGA is trying to make a decision for everyone by eliminating everyone’s choice.”) The point is, neither side can even agree on who is doing the walking, which shows you just how far apart the WGA and ATA are in this negotiation.

If the code is enacted but the Big Four agencies don’t sign it, how will writers get jobs?
In his February address to Guild members, Goodman said 75 percent of respondents in a recent WGA survey said they got themselves their most recent jobs, not their agents. Multiple television executives told Vulture that the staffing pipeline might not run as smoothly, but they weren’t worried about writers rooms getting filled. “Will it hold up production realistically? Probably not,” said one TV exec, who added that lesser-known writers would have the hardest time getting connected with showrunners and in-development projects without agents to facilitate on their behalf.

In response to this concern, the WGA’s Gary told Vulture, “There are a couple of systems that the Guild is building out right now and we’ll be rolling out shortly” to serve as a stopgap measure and help “the most vulnerable Guild members” find work until the WGA and ATA can come to terms. An attempted peer-to-peer solution — which Gary said he could not disclose yet — would likely have to fill in for agents until, hopefully, new terms can be reached. “The system right now is going to be heavily reliant on showrunners, and I think it will be at least sort of incumbent upon the showrunners to work together, communicate well, and help each other seek out writers that they need for their rooms,” he says.

What are people in Hollywood saying about this?
Across Hollywood, the battle is a hot topic. One of the most powerful agents in the land, WME President* Ari Greenburg, said in a negotiation round last week that the Guild was “there for theatrics, not progress.” Another agency source told Deadlinethat a recent modified proposal from the WGA amounted to putting “lipstick on a pig.” Meanwhile, one studio executive who spoke to Vulture called packaging “fucking evil.”

Film producer Keith Calder (Blindspotting, Anomalisa) drew an unfavorable analogy between representation in Hollywood and sports.



Writer and producer Amy Berg (Counterpart, Person of Interest) has posted several threads about the issue to Twitter, calling packaging a “conflict of interest” and affiliate producer operations “an anti-trust crime.”




David Simon was even more unsparing in his criticism. In an essay detailing his earliest Hollywood experiences, Simon wrote, “Packaging is a lie. It is theft. It is fraud. In the hands of the right U.S. Attorney, it might even be prima facie evidence of decades of racketeering. It’s that fucking ugly,” adding later on, “Only the end of packaging will restore a market in which writers are paid competitively for writing. And only an agent whose priority is having his client paid competitively is a means to achieving that result.”

On the WGA’s website you can read a list of horror stories from anonymous Guild members detailing ways they say they’ve been harmed by packaging. Some describe shows that were “held hostage” after writers turned down packages; others say their agents aren’t interested in finding them work as staff writers because their singular concern is packaging. Some say they’ve had shows sold as packages without even being informed. Gary serves as a Team Captain in the WGA, meaning he’s a point person who functions as a kind of peer organizer for other Guild members, and he says most of the concerns he fields are not about individual agents, but their employers: “What I hear from the people I’ve talked to most — again and again and again — is that everyone is scared that their agents, as much as they like them, aren’t working as best they can for them. And not because they don’t want to, but because the system doesn’t reward them for it.”

Have any agencies sided with the Guild?
The fifth-largest agency, Paradigm, has indicated they will not sign the code, because they say “the agency business has become far more overhead intensive” and packaging revenue is necessary for operations. And in a FAQ doc available for clients, WME states its position clearly: “WME is not signing the code.”

So far, only one of the ATA’s member agencies, Pantheon Talent Agency, has said they will sign the code. According to the Guild, 23 non-ATA agencies have also signaled they will sign. The WGA also hopes that some franchised agents will leave their employers if they don’t sign the code, taking their client lists and operating independently in compliance with the Guild. In a statement that caused much hand-wringing, Goodman said: “I am saying that our collective power here is the power of divide and conquer. The agencies and agents all compete for talent, and when we make clear that we are leaving those who will not change, the change will come.”

*This article previously identified Ari Greenburg incorrectly as the CEO of WME, and stated that WME has an ownership stake in Endeavor Content. In fact, Greenburg is the president of WME, and both entities are owned by Endeavor. It has been corrected throughout.
 

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Paradigm Signals It Won't Sign Writers' Code of Conduct in Note to Clients (Exclusive)
6:44 PM PDT 3/22/2019 by Jonathan Handel

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Alex Berliner
Paradigm chairman Sam Gores

With "fierce pride," agency chairman Sam Gores defended his firm and the need for packaging, even amid indications that such revenue may wane thanks to streamers’ business models.
The chairman of entertainment’s fifth-largest talent agency, Paradigm, sent a two-page letter to his clients Friday attempting to calm the waters as a roiling dispute between talent firms and the Writers Guild of America counts down to an April 7 deadline that could see writers under orders from the union to fire their agents en masse.

Meanwhile, the guild and the Association of Talent Agents met Thursday afternoon for a sixth (nonconsecutive) day of talks in a session that was apparently devoid of rancor and that saw the ATA presenting its response to the most recent WGA proposals, which among other things would prohibit packaging fees and affiliate production.

“We take fierce pride in helping our clients achieve all of their goals,” writes Paradigm chairman Sam Gores in the missive. “The television packaging model has never distracted us from making the client’s creative and financial goals our fundamental priority. This is true for any client on a packaged show. … We have never packaged a writer against their wishes not to be packaged, nor have we ever benefited financially to a greater extent than our client who is the key element.”

The letter goes on to argue that packaging revenue is needed because it is “readily apparent that the agency business has become far more overhead intensive, as we provide more business affairs, public relations, market research, film sales representation, and other services, than ever before.”

Gores says that Paradigm agrees with “many of the proposals presented by the WGA, notably, more transparency, support for more diversity, getting writers paid on time, and prohibiting free work,” but he adds that “a number of the WGA proposals are, however, simply unreasonable and unworkable.” According to an agency source, the letter signals that Paradigm has no intention of signing the WGA’s proposed “Code of Conduct” and is looking for a negotiated agreement between the guild and the ATA.

Paradigm is among the top six or so agencies that engage in packaging, while affiliate production is so far limited to the top three, which have deep reservoirs of invested capital from private equity and other sources. Paradigm has no plans to move into affiliate production, said the agency source.

Assuming (as is considered likely) that the guild membership approves its code in a March 27-31 vote, the guild says it will impose the new rules when the current WGA-ATA agreement terminates April 7, unless a deal is reached before then.

“We had an extensive dialogue with the Guild today,” said ATA executive director Karen Stuart, speaking of the Thursday meeting. “We presented its leadership with our formal counterproposals in a draft agreement, and we hope they will follow-up in good faith to move this process forward.” The WGA declined to comment. Sources confirmed an improved tone in the room.

The counterproposals (read them here) would permit packaging fees and affiliate production with informed consent of the client. In packaging, an agency forgoes commissioning the client and instead receives a fee from the television studio, which can amount to massive sums if the series has a long run and is sold into aftermarkets such as syndication, DVD and foreign broadcast or cable.

That’s the way the business worked pre-Netflix, but out-of-the-park hits are rarer today. The advent of streaming services, which often make long-term or perpetual worldwide deals has reduced the value of aftermarkets and diminished the value of back-end profit participations, leading some observers to speculate that the agencies might accede to guild demands and end packaging.

If that left affiliate production untouched, it could be a boon for the biggest three agencies — Endeavor/WME, CAA and UTA — as it might enable them to pull further ahead of firms like ICM, Paradigm, APA and others without similarly deep pockets. Large agency sources, however, have thrown cold water on such suggestions, and ultimately only time will tell where and how the agency business will shake out.

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/n...ign-writers-code-conduct-note-clients-1196685
 

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https://www.wga.org/members/membership-information/agency-agreement/writers-share-their-experiences

Writers Share Their Experiences With Agency Packaging and Producing


The duty of agents is to represent writers and act in their best interest. Unfortunately, because of the conflicts of interest allowed in the current agreement between WGA and the Association of Talent Agencies, agencies are often doing anything but that. Writers have been sharing their experiences with conflicted representation, showing how it harms us both creatively and economically. Please share your experiences with us. Email Agency Agreement.

The statements below have been submitted confidentially to the Guild by members and published with their permission.

“The assertion that packaging fees will only return money that should go on screen to the studios’ pockets directly contradicts my experience. I sold a series to a network after spending a considerable amount of my own time and money to build up the I.P. in another medium. During production discussions, I was told explicitly by the studio’s production executives that the difference between shooting in Los Angeles versus a less desirable tax haven state—or another country—was the money taken from the above-the-line budget by the agency package. After some difficult conversations, the agency agreed to cut their package in half (albeit for the first season only) as a concession to the truth that my work in another medium was the reason the property sold in the first place. It was never suggested during these discussions that the money would just go back to the studio: the money was immediately returned to the show’s budget, and we were able to make the decision of where to shoot based on what was best for the show, as opposed to financial exigency.”


“I co-created a show and sold it, and my agency negotiated itself a packaging fee of over $70,000 an episode plus 10% of the backend on the series—the single biggest backend stake. They set up a couple of meetings, fielded two offers, and my lawyer helped my agent negotiate the deal. The show was sold with no producers, no actors, no elements attached; they packaged nothing. As far as I could see, the total amount of work for them was somewhere between ten and 20 hours, and that might even be a generous guess. The work of conception, pitch, execution and delivery of the first season represents two years of full-time work for me personally. And my agency will make more than me on this project.”


"I am repped at one of the Big Four agencies, and I have a TV project with an Academy Award-nominated director that my agency does not rep. My agent advised me to get rid of the director claiming he didn't matter in TV. When I would not get rid of the director, my agent refused to return any calls regarding the project, even when there was an offer from a studio. Eventually the director called me to figure out what was going on and I had to put him in touch with my attorney to move the deal forward. If I didn't have a personal relationship with the director the deal would have died and I would not have known why. It's not worth any agent's time to work on deals where there is no package."
 

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Film and Television
“But I’m not a lawyer. I’m an agent.”
March 18, 2019
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Just over a quarter century ago, when I was a young scribbler traipsing around the metro desk of the Baltimore Sun, I had an early opportunity to learn a lesson about money, about ethics, about capitalism and, in particular, about the American entertainment industry. And Dorothy Simon, she raised no fools. I only needed to learn it once.

I learned about something called “packaging.”

And now, finally, my apostasy from newspapering having delivered me from Baltimore realities to film-set make-believe, I am suprised and delighted that many of the fellow scribblers with whom I share a labor union have at last acquired the same hard, ugly lesson:

Packaging is a lie. It is theft. It is fraud. In the hands of the right U.S. Attorney, it might even be prima facie evidence of decades of racketeering. It’s that fucking ugly.

For those of you not in the film and television world, there is no shame in tuning out right now because at its core, the argument over packaging now ongoing between film and television writers and their agents is effectively an argument over an embarrassment of riches. The American entertainment industry is seemingly recession-proof and television writing, specifically, is such a growth industry nowadays that even good and great novelists must be ordered back to their prose manuscripts by book editors for whom the term “showrunner” has become an affront. A lot of people are making good money writing television drama. And so, this fresh argument is about who is making more of that money, and above all, where the greatest benefits accrue. If you have no skin in the game, I think it reasonable, even prudent, to deliver a no-fucks-to-give exhale and proceed elsewhere.

If, on the other hand, you are my brother or sister in the Writers Guild of America — East or West, it matters not when we stand in solitarity — or conversely, if you are a grasping, fuckfailing greedhead with the Association of Talent Agents, then you might wanna hang around for this:

Here is the story of how as a novice to this industry, I was grifted by my agents and how I learned everything I ever needed to know about packaging. And here is why I am a solid yes-vote on anything my union puts before me that attacks the incredible ethical affront of this paradigm. Packaging is a racket. It’s corrupt. It is without any basis in either integrity or honor. This little narrative will make that clear. And because I still have a reportorial soul and a journalistic God resides in the details, I will name a name wherever I can.

* * *

To begin, I wrote a book. It was a non-fiction account of a year I spent with a shift of homicide detectives in Baltimore, a city ripe with violence and miscalculation. Published in 1991, “Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets” was repped by my literary agent at the time, an independent attorney who I found because his other clients included some other ink-stained newspaper reporters. Late in 1987, the Baltimore Police Department agreed to let me into its homicide unit for a year beginning that January, so I needed to quickly acquire an agent to sell the project to a publishing house and secure an advance on which to live while I took a leave-of-absence from my newspaper. This agent — and damn, I wish I could name the goniff, but I later signed a cash settlement that said I wouldn’t — was the first name that came to me. I did not shop around; I was in a hurry. My bad.

Three years later, with the book ready to publish, this shyster suggested to me that he was entirely capable of going to Hollywood with it for a sale of the dramatic rights. And knowing less than a bag of taters about Hollywood, I was ready to agree until my book editor, the worthy John Sterling, then helming the Houghton Mifflin publishing house, told me in no uncertain terms that this was a mistake.

It was customary, John explained, for even the best literary agents to pair with a colleague at one of the bigger entertainment agencies and split the commission. My literary agent would give up half of his 15 percent to the other agency, but he would gain the expertise of an organization with the connections to move the property around and find the right eyeballs in the film and television industry. So I called my agent back and insisted.

With some initial reluctance, he eventually chose to go with Creative Artists Agency — one of the Big Four, as they call the largest entertainment entities repping talent, and an agent in CAA’s literary division by the name of Matt Snyder. After making the deal with CAA, my literary agent called me back and said it was customary for me to give up a larger percentage commission as I now had two agents working on my behalf. How much more? He suggested that he should keep his 15 percent and I should pay CAA an additional 10 percent. So a quarter of the profits from the sale of book would now be siphoned to agency commissions.

I called back John Sterling and asked: Is this right?

John nearly dropped the phone. No, that is not how it works. Again, he explained that my literary agent was supposed to split the existing 15 percent commission on the book with CAA. The literary agent was supposed to keep 7.5 percent and give the other half to CAA, which in no way was entitled to any cash above and beyond that split.

I called my agent back. No, you split the existing 15 points, I told him. He threw a few chunks of pouty guilt at me, but I shrugged him off. This first attempt at a grift should have warned me, but hey, I was young.

Advance the story a couple months later:

CAA has sent the book to about a dozen A-list film directors, where it lays in their offices like a stale bagel, unloved and unsold. No one can figure out how to transform a year in the professional lives of a half dozen Baltimore death investigators into a feature film. Matt Snyder is bereft of a next idea. He does have one small-option offer from a small indy company. I get on the phone with a producer there and ask for his credits and it’s pretty clear, even to me, that it’s short money for a project that probably goes nowhere.

I call Snyder back.

Hey, I wonder aloud, how about Barry Levinson? He’s from Baltimore. He makes movies. Maybe he’ll like it. Did I mention he’s from Baltimore? Have you seen Diner? Tin Men? I sure do love me some Diner.

This is the sum of my contribution to the initial sale of Homicide to Levinson and NBC, but let’s at least note that it’s the only salient action that would matter, because when CAA sent the book to Levinson, it turned out he was in negotiations with NBC to deliver a television series. Gail Mutrux in his office read the book and put it in front of her boss; Homicide: Life on the Street was born.

So, great.

Then the contract comes back from Baltimore Pictures and while it’s all found money for a police reporter and rewrite man who’s working for union scale at The Sun, I check with some other authors who have sold stuff to Hollywood and they all acknowledge it’s on the low-end of where such offers usually reside. Fine for the option money, a little light on the contingent pilot, pick-up and episodic payments and, of course, farce on the definition of net profits. So I call Matt Snyder back and say so: This seems a little light and it’s a first offer. Let’s go back to Levinson with a counter.

And Matt Snyder of CAA acts as if his client, me, has just thrown a dead, rancid dog on the table. This is my first book sale to Hollywood and Barry Levinson is an A-lister; I should be grateful for this offer and worried that if I nickel-and-dime, Levinson may develop something else for his first television series. Reluctantly, as if he is being asked to traverse a vale of danger and uncertainty, Snyder eventually agrees to go back and see if he can’t get, maybe, a bump in the per-episode royalty, maybe $250 an hour. He’ll fight for me. He’ll see what gives. And sure enough, the per-episode fee goes up by 10 percent after Snyder, relentless carnivore that he is, returns to his client with pride and some pocket change.

And now, here’s where the real fun starts:

We push forward a decade to 2002 when I have sold my own dramatic television series to HBO. The Wire pilot turned out well enough that the project is set to get a first-season order from HBO and my television agent, Jeff Jacobs of CAA, suggests to me that this thing might really have legs.

“We want to package you,” he offers.

“Package me?”

“Yeah, we’ll take a package on this project and you get your ten-percent commission back. Like with Homicide?

Hanh? “Jake, what the fuck are you talking about.”

Homicide was packaged and we’ll do the same thing with The Wire.

“Jake, slow down, what the hell does ‘packaged’ mean?”

And for the first time, Jacobs explains it to me: In order that my agents — the folks who held an absolute fiduciary responsibility to negotiate in good faith on my behalf and on behalf of my book — could be players in the creation of the TV project from that book, in order that they could own a chunk of the project itself and profit by millions of dollars from the work I had asked them to sell, they were willing to return my 7.5 percent commission and the commissions of any other talent they represented, packaging all of us together in a happy bundle for the network. Yes, incredibly, to avoid the most overt and untenable conflict-of-interest, they were willing to heroically give back to me a few thousand dollars in exchange for millions of dollars in points on a piece of NBC’s Homicide: Life on the Street which ran for seven years.

Oh.

“Jake, no one told me. No one said anything to me. Ever.”

There was a quiet on the phone. Until I asked a second question: “What other talent did you package with me?”

“Barry Levinson.”

At which point, there was no more quiet.

“Jake, do you mean to say that you represented me, a pissant police reporter from Baltimore in a head-on negotiation with one of Hollywood’s A-list directors and you also represented the director? You represented both sides in the sale of my book and when the low-ball offer came to me, Matt fucking Snyder acted like it was the only offer I might ever get? Is that what you motherfuckers did?”

“I thought you knew.”

“I did not know.”

“Didn’t Matt inform you?”

He did not. Not in any of our conversations.

“Did your book agent tell you?”

He did not.

Then I asked another question: “Jake, do you have any written consent from me on file in which I authorize you to rep both sides of the sale of my book? I will answer that for you: You do not. I never authorized this. Not to CAA. Not to my book agent. I never gave informed consent. I couldn’t. Because I was never informed.”

Had CAA, in fact, returned the 7.5 percent of my commission?

They had — to my book agent, who pocketed it. Quietly. I immediately wrote a letter to that grasping bastard: Dear thief, you will remit all of that 7.5 percent to me by week’s end or I will write up what happened here and have it posted on every Newspaper Guild bulletin board in every newsroom on the Mid-Atlantic seaboard and you will be known for what you are. Further, I might also contact a U.S. Attorney about a failure of fiduciary responsibility so fundamental that it effectively constitutes the sharing of a bribe in exchange for an agreement to reduce the sale price of my book. Suffice to say, a check to me for the full 7.5 percent arrived within days.

Then I turned to CAA, a Big Four agency that was once fully content to screw me over when I was a stumblefuck newspaper reporter who to their thinking could only provide them with a book or two for sale. Years later, I was now a client about to become a showrunner on a premiere cable network. I had a little more leverage.

“Jake, I’m firing you and I’m taking The Wire and everything else with me.”

“Look,” he pleaded, “I know you’re mad. I don’t blame you. But personally, I didn’t do any of this. I’ve been straight up with you. I wasn’t your agent then. I wasn’t involved in packaging your book.”

No, I explained, but your agency was. And the profits from that are fungible. You’ve been good, Jake. You’ve been fair. But on a lie of omission, CAA — your agency — made millions and millions of dollars and did so by undercutting my negotiation with Levinson and failing to inform me of an absolute conflict of interest. I gotta go.

“What can we do to make this right?”

I thought about that because unlike the fucksquib in CAA’s literary department who should die of venereal boils, I actually liked my TV agent. He had, in fact, been forthright and fair in all of my subsequent years in television. So I explained that the agency had made millions off the conflict of interest and that for a reasonable “taste of their taste” of Homicide, whatever that was, I would remain as his client.

He ran that back up the ladder and came back a few days later: “We can’t do that. If we agree to give you a percentage of our packaging fees, it would set a bad precedent for all of our other packages.”

“Motherfucker, you’re talking about bad precedents? CAA repped both sides of a negotiation without informing me so that your taste of the profits would dwarf mine, your client. How much money did CAA actually make on Homicide?”

Jake wasn’t allowed to say. Transparency was not an option. Instead, he suggested another path:

“What about a one-time lump sum payment that isn’t officially tied to our package?”

Eventually, frustrated but willing to compromise to keep Jake as my agent, I agreed to allow CAA to write a check for the same “penalty” that I had exacted from my literary agent. Another 7.5 percent of my original commission came back and yes, Jeff Jacobs has remained my agent to this moment. Oh, I also asked Jake to make his CAA colleague get on the phone. I had some things to say.

I said them, and incredibly, the fiduciary pratfall and ethical void known as Matt Snyder stayed on the other end of that call insisting — after admitting he had no record whatsoever of me being informed of the conflict-of-interest between myself and the buyer of my book, or any claimed recollection of having informed me of such in all of our conversations — that he had done nothing improper, that my literary agent should have explained it all to me.

“Matt — absent any evidence of informed consent by me — that you and CAA proceeded to negotiate with Barry Levinson, whom you also represented, is a prima facie conflict-of-interest and a breach of fiduciary duty. If you were a realtor secretly representing both sides of a house sale, your license would be torn up. If you were a lawyer, you’d be disbarred.”

There was only a small pause before he explained himself:

“But I’m not a lawyer. I’m an agent.”

Yes you are. Yes you fucking are.

* * *

So much of television and film is packaged by the Big Four agencies — CAA, ICM, WME and UTA — that it is now said to be the lion’s share of their income, so much in fact that they are running to Wall Street for equity investment in their producerial role. Fuck repping actors or directors or writers to earn a living. What rube would settle for 10 percent of anything when you can play for 100 percent of your larger stake in a film or a movie?

But of course, the astounding conflict-of-interest that underlies the corruption of packaging doesn’t simply end with the fact that agents no longer have any incentive to properly service the smaller and less advantaged client when they are repping both sides of a negotiation. Never mind the relentless obscenity of telling a seller that you can also rep the buyer and claim to still fight for top dollar.

The greater offense is that packaging has now artificially reduced the salaries of all screenwriters over decades, so much so that entry-level salaries for staffwriters and story editors in television, for example, are exactly where they were a decade ago save for the cost-of-living increases that the writer’s union achieved on its own. For junior producers, it’s even worse: The salaries for co-executive producers are about 16 percent less than where they were two contracts ago.

The agencies themselves like to claim that this is because shows now order fewer episodes and shorter broadcast seasons than in the past and that this structural change has more to do with the stagnation than packaging. But of course, that also begs a question: Where the fuck have the agents been to argue on behalf of their clients for a different pay structure, one that acknowledges the changing reality of fewer episodes and more work in the production of each episode?

I’ll tell you where they’ve been. They’ve been in another room, counting cash. Again, the problem with packaging is not merely that clients are poorly repped in negotiations with other clients. No, it’s bigger than that. The problem is that the agency incentive to package shows and provide larger payments to themselves has obliterated any serious thought about aggressively negotiating on behalf of any writer, or actor, or director, large or small.

Why bother to fight for 10 percent of a few dollars more for this story editor or that co-executive producer of some actor or director when to NOT do so means less freight on the operating budgets of the projects that you yourself hope to profit from? Why serve your clients as representatives with a fiduciary responsibility and get the last possible dollar for them, when you stand to profit by splitting the proceeds of a production not with labor, but with management — the studios who are cutting you in on the back end? Why put your client’s interest in direct opposition to your own?

No reason at all.

Perhaps the ugliest tell in the current negotiations between the WGA and the agencies is the incredible, self-oblivious claim by the ATA that writers are naive to think that any of the vast packaging fees, if denied to talent agencies by studios, would ever find their way into the pockets of the writers themselves. No, they insist, the studios will just pocket that money and writers themselves will be no better off.

You grifting, soulless fuckbonnets. You are so divorced from your fundamental ethos that you have actually just made this argument: You as agents are capable of achieving millions in benefits FOR YOURSELVES; you can leverage these profits FOR YOURSELVES if you are permitted to do so. However, you are claiming in the next lying, mendacious breath that you couldn’t possible achieve any such outcome if you had to do it merely on behalf of YOUR CLIENTS.

In the face of that incredible self-own, I can only respond with a singular question that I would ask of any rank parasite: If you can only leverage profit for yourself, but not for me, what the fuck do I need you for? Why are you on this ride at all? At the point that he can only achieve benefit for himself and not for his client, what the fuck good is an agent?

Years ago, when I first learned about packaging, I asked Jeff Jacobs that same question. He had no good reply then. He has none now. He is still my agent because his agency wrote me a check for some of the damage done in secret and because he promised in no uncertain terms that I would never be packaged again. Nor would my projects be packaged; even though as a showrunner, I could now benefit from lopsided negotiations with others, I won’t do that to fellow writers, actors and directors. This has been the case for nearly two decades now; at the end of every business year, I write a check for 10 percent to CAA and with this client at least, Jake has no incentive to do anything but chase the last dollar for both of us. That’s what an honest agent does. That is ALL an honest agent does.

Has it helped the writers on my shows to never be packaged? Not as much as it ought. Why not? Because, quite obviously, the entire universe of screenwriters has had salaries and work-quotes depressed for decades by agents who have failed to do their fundamental duty and negotiate for better. I know this because I see the comparable quotes that come into HBO business affairs and how closely they hew to WGA minimums; as a showrunner, it’s not possible to demand that a network spend more of its money to hire writers above their quotes and the quotes of colleagues. Packaging has, over decades, crippled and circumvented the market for entertainment writers. And every negotiation by every writer with every studio or production entity begins with that fundamental reality. Only the end of packaging will restore a market in which writers are paid competitively for writing. And only an agent whose priority is having his client paid competitively is a means to achieving that result.

That this corruption has been allowed to go on this long is testament to the greed of the agencies themselves, to the inertia of the talent unions to this point, and to the anecdotal claims of some independent moviemakers that certain film projects only get made because of packaging by talent agencies. But hey, I’m calling bullshit on that, too. For one thing, this simply constitutes a failure to imagine a world that never had a chance to come to be, a world in which agents work aggressively for a film project not because they have a larger cut of the product, but because the 10 percent commissions on every sold project is the only true currency on which they can rely. And secondly, it’s fair to suggest that as many movies failed to get made because the packaging limited the negotiation only to writers, directors and actors at a given agency. That’s right: Why get the best talent for the best possible iteration of a story when it doesn’t maximize profit for the agency involved? The tail is wagging the fuck out of the entire dog, often to the great detriment of the work itself.

All in all, I’m delighted that the WGA has finally caught up to this malignant thievery and if indeed, the membership of my union is overwhelmingly convinced of the need to carry this fight forward, then I am certainly a good vote for such. I’ve been a good vote for such since anyone bothered to explain this horror show to me, however belatedly.

I’m for implementing a new code of conduct that requires any agency to abandon packaging before it can be permitted to negotiate with signatories to the WGA contract. And if that means I’ll have to depart from CAA and Jeff Jacobs, then that’s what it means. Bless you, Jake, but right is right and wrong is wrong.

Hell, I’m for more than that. Personally, I’m for filing a civil suit against the ATA and the Big Four for an overt and organized breach of fiduciary duty in which they have effectively pretended to represent clients while taking bribes from studios to keep those clients’ salaries and benefits lowered across the board. Looking not merely at civil law, but at the federal statutes against extortion and bribery, a curious and ambitious U.S. Attorney might enjoy a deeper dive into the realm of racketeering, because for the life of me, I can’t see a difference between packaging and any prosecutable case of bid-rigging or bribery I ever covered as a reporter in federal or state courts.

For that matter, I’m for riding around Bel Air and Westwood and Santa Monica in a rental car, running up in the driveways of these grifting motherfuckers and slashing tires. I’ve got that much contempt for this level of organized theft and for the tone-deaf defense of it by the ATA. But that’s me as an ex-reporter and a showrunner and a generally pissed-off writer talking. That guy is all in. As a WGAE council member, I’ll eschew the vandalism and listen to the members and support the will of the union as a whole. I just hope, after all these years of being robbed, that my colleagues are as united and as angry as they ought to be.

https://davidsimon.com/but-im-not-a-lawyer-im-an-agent/
 

largebillsonlyplease

Large
BGOL Legend
Fuck, man... this all sounds like it's probably something I'd be interested in, but... it might not be. I need the Cliffs Notes version before reading all that shit. :colin:


I'm an agent
I represent you and playa

You have a good show idea
I get you to the studio
I also bring in playa cause I rep him as well
I get my agent fee
I also get 30k to 100k per episode y'all produce
I also get 3 percent of profits if there are any from the show

You paid me
Then I take money from your budget and your end result of your hit show cause I rep you.
 

playahaitian

Rising Star
Certified Pussy Poster
I'm an agent
I represent you and playa

You have a good show idea
I get you to the studio
I also bring in playa cause I rep him as well
I get my agent fee
I also get 30k to 100k per episode y'all produce
I also get 3 percent of profits if there are any from the show

You paid me
Then I take money from your budget and your end result of your hit show cause I rep you.

gawd damn it cuz...

:itsawrap:
 

Helico-pterFunk

Rising Star
BGOL Legend
The Hollywood Fight That’s Tearing Apart Writers and Agents, Explained
By Jordan Crucchiola@jorcru
26-wga.w700.h700.jpg

A-listers like Tina Fey, Shonda Rhimes, and Oliver Stone are among the WGA members who want a code of conduct for agents.Photo: Getty Images

There is a very big fight going on in Hollywood, but since it’s a standoff built around contract negotiations and entertainment-industry minutiae, you probably haven’t heard about it unless you scour the trades for fun. But this fight affects every person who writes and creates the shows and movies we watch. For the past two months, the labor union representing those writers, the Writers Guild of America, and the people charged with finding them jobs and negotiating their compensation — the agents who comprise the Association of Talent Agents — have been in a standoff to determine the future of their working relationship. They’re fighting, of course, about money, though the particulars of who gets that money and why are pretty complicated. And depending on how a WGA vote swings this week, there could be a mass separation from every Guild-represented writer in Hollywood and the agents who connect them with the studio money to get their stuff made.

So what, exactly, is going on? Here’s everything you need to know.

First of all, who are these people?
The WGA is the labor union that represents writers across America, but they’re most well-known for representing Hollywood writers. Remember that 100-day labor strike in 2007 that resulted in Friday Night Lights having a really off second season? The WGA was the group that went on strike over a dispute with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers.

The ATA is a collective of more than 100 talent agencies, but the most important are known as the Big Four: CAA, WME, UTA, and ICM. Together, these companies dominate the industry. CAA, WME, and UTA alone “account for almost 70 percent of WGA members’ earnings,” according to the Guild.

the work of his agent, famed Endeavor CEO Ari Emanuel.

LEARN MORE »
Agents and their employers also make a lot of money through a process called “packaging,” which comes with fees from production studios. These are a big part of WGA’s grievances with the ATA, and we will get to those later.

Why is this fight happening now?
The document that dictates the terms of the ATA and WGA relationship is the Artists’ Manager Basic Agreement (AMBA), which has not been renegotiated since 1976. (For comparison, the WGA renegotiates its collective bargaining agreement with film and television producers of the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers every three years.) The entertainment industry has changed a ton over the past decade alone — demand for content is higher than ever, with companies like Amazon, Netflix, and Apple spraying fire hoses of money across the industry, while traditional networks race to keep up. But even though production and profits are at record highs, many writers say they are feeling squeezed. In a WGA document that maps out its case for alleged conflicts of interest within agencies, the Guild writes, “In each of the last three years, the companies that dominate the entertainment industry — Disney, Fox, Time Warner, Comcast, CBS, and Viacom — generated more than $50 billion in operating profits. Meanwhile, television writer-producers’ median weekly earnings declined 23 percent between 2014 and 2016.”

Shorter season orders of TV shows and changes to residuals thanks to streaming have contributed to stagnate compensation for writers. (Though WGA president David A. Goodman says wage growth is an issue that far predates season shortening.) Guild members expect their agents to fight for every extra dollar possible over union-mandated minimums, but they say agencies are no longer following through on that duty. Agencies have also sold off big portions of their companies to private equity firms over the past few years, which the Guild alleges has changed their profit motives and prompted them to de-prioritize relationships betweens agents and the writers they represent, focusing instead on owning entertainment properties — whether that means getting a cut of films or shows that clients write, or the agencies themselves buying products like the Ultimate Fighting Championship or the Miss Universe Organization, which are both now owned by Endeavor, which owns WME.

Last April, the WGA gave the ATA the requisite 12 months’ notice for terminating its Artists’ Manager Basic Agreement contract. On April 6, that deadline will be up. Negotiations only really started in February between the groups, and they haven’t been going well. Both sides characterize the other as acting in bad faith: The WGA says the ATA didn’t respond to their termination notice for months; the ATA says that’s a lie. The two groups have met six times since February, and while progress has been made on smaller points, there is no clear path to resolution regarding the Guild’s biggest concerns.

What does the Writers Guild want?
When the Guild first contacted the ATA last April, they presented a list of more than 20 points for negotiation, including protections against discrimination and unpaid work. (Writers do a lot for free, like developing spec scripts, before they can even get jobs.) But the current deadlock comes down to two issues: a standard industry practice called packaging, and the trend of agencies working with production companies, called affiliate producers, in which they have a financial stake. The Guild’s desired changes to those practices would dramatically affect how agencies do business in Hollywood.

In a February address to Guild members, Goodman laid out his concerns. “Make no mistake: Fairness is an issue here, but the fundamental reason that the leadership is recommending these changes is money,” he said. “If writer pay were steadily rising as agencies continue to package, we wouldn’t be sitting here. If writer pay were rising as agencies move into production and become our employers as well as our representatives, we wouldn’t be here. But as writers we share a common knowledge that writers overall are not doing better, we’re doing worse.”

In short, that means the WGA is calling for an end to packaging fees, and for agencies to stay away from producing.

Let’s break these terms down. What’s packaging and why does it have fees?
Packaging is the process through which agencies bundle talent to bring a project together. Say, for example, that a writer comes up with an idea for a TV show. If the writer’s agent then brings in a director or an actor to join the show — and that director or actor is represented by the same agency as the writer — that’s a package. The process of assembling packages has become so commonplace in Hollywood that 87 percent of all shows that aired during the 2016–17 season were packaged, according to the WGA, with WME and CAA responsible for 79 percent of that. (Movies can be packaged, too, and often are.)

The Guild wants to eliminate the fees that studios pay agencies for delivering those packaged bundles. In the case of TV, a fee typically amounts to $30,000 to $100,000 per episode, according to the Guild. The money for the fee is taken from a production’s budget for the project and then given directly to the agency — they are not part of a writer’s pay. The producer, director, and former agent Gavin Palone has been speaking out against packaging for years (including in New York Magazine), and this is how he broke down what’s known as the “3-3-10” structure for The Hollywood Reporter:

“The production company pays the agency a fixed percentage (usually 3 percent) of the network base license fee after each episode is produced, an equal amount deferred out of profits (if any) and a percentage of the profits (usually 10 percent).”

If a series becomes profitable, that 10 percent figure applies to the show’s gross profits for the life of the program, even if all of an agency’s clients leave the show before it’s over. In the case of very successful shows, like Friends,that could amount to millions of dollars. (ICM has reportedly madehundreds of millions from Friends over the years.) Because there’s so much money to be made in packaging, the Guild is worried that agents aren’t fighting hard for individual client compensation.

What does the ATA say about this?
ATA executive director Karen Stuart, however, says the conditions for the full “3-3-10” fee are rarely met, because so few shows hit a profit level that would lead to additional payouts. Deals with streamers like Netflix also don’t include back-end profits. (Ever the disruptor, Netflix has even changed the packaging model for agencies, further prompting the companies to look for alternate revenue streams and increased chunks of ownership in entertainment properties.) The ATA asserts that the packaging fees model is better because it allows writers to forgo paying the 10 percent commission they would otherwise have to pay their agents. A new report from the ATA says packaging saved writers from paying $49 million in commission fees last year, and UTA released its own study saying writers actually made more from shows the agency packaged than they would have on non-packaged programs.

Goodman counters that the UTA’s study was based on a “false premise.” “There is no way to compare what writers would make in a world with agency packaging and without agency packaging. Agency packaging is so dominant that it controls the whole market for writers in television,” he says.

Guild writers contend that if agents can get packaging money for themselves, they should be able to negotiate equivalent compensation on behalf of their clients, too. It’s a sentiment that The Wire creator David Simon expressed in a charactersitically heated way: “If you can only leverage profit for yourself, but not for me, what the fuck do I need you for? Why are you on this ride at all? At the point that he can only achieve benefit for himself and not for his client, what the fuck good is an agent?”

The Guild’s concern, ultimately, is that agents are not incentivized to aggressively negotiate for their clients when their financial success is divorced from commission. The union’s position is that agencies forego their fiduciary responsibilities by prioritizing profit-participation deals with studios over chasing the highest possible compensation for their writers. Or, as Goodman puts it, “Agency income should be directly tied to writer income.” That would mean reverting to a commission-only model that has not been in practice for a long time.

So what are “affiliate producers” and how are they related to this fight?
While packaging has been around for decades, agencies opening up affiliated production companiesis a relatively new phenomenon of the past three years. As Varietyreported recently, “WME, CAA, and UTA in recent years have taken steps into content production and distribution, raising conflict of interest red flags in the view of many industry insiders.” WME’s parent company, Endeavor, owns a production shingle called Endeavor Content, while CAA has a hand in WIIP, and UTA has partial ownership of Civic Center Media. According to a source familiar with the agency side who did not want to be named, these companies are beneficial to writers because they increase the number of competitive buyers for projects, and because they’re willing to pay creatives more on the back end than other studios. This source also insists that agency clients are never pressured to go with an affiliate producer, only encouraged to pursue the best deal.

Screenwriter and WGA member John Gary says companies like Endeavor Content and Civic Center Media are not bad actors overall, citing projects of his own currently in development with WIIP. But these affiliate producers are a problem, Gary says, because the talent agencies have ownership stakes in them. “We know that company structure can eventually take advantage of employees in really bad ways,” Gary tells Vulture. “And so we need to eliminate that incentive for them to take advantage of us. They’re great companies with great people working there. They just can’t be owned by the same people who own the agencies. You cannot be both a judge and a prosecutor at the same time.”

Stuart, the ATA executive director, describes affiliates as “legally separate businesses with separate management and separate operations, housed in separate offices and with separate employees,” but their profits do still go to the same parent companies. The WGA charges that affiliate producers effectively turn the agencies into their bosses, creating an ethically dubious situation where agents are tasked with getting the best contracts for writing clients and the most cost-effective deals for studios owned by the same parent company as their agencies.

How will this whole mess get sorted out?
We’re about to find out. Starting on Wednesday, March 27, Guild members will have four days to vote on a code of conduct that, if approved, will be presented to the agencies. The agencies will have to sign the code in order for Guild writers to keep working with them. The ones that don’t will be out of compliance with Guild rules, which state, “No writer shall enter into a representation agreement whether oral or written, with any agent who has not entered into an agreement with the Guild covering minimum terms and conditions between agents and their writer clients.” The code stipulates that agencies must revert back to the commission-only model — which means no more packaging fees — and that compliant agencies must sever ties with affiliate production entities. Companies like WIIP and Endeavor Content can still exist, but agencies would have to forfeit their ownership stakes to avoid conflicts of interest.

It’s been reported that some high-profile showrunners have anonymously expressed concern about the Guild’s hard-line “no compromise” language, but the WGA released a statement of support earlier this week signed by more than 700 union members pledging to vote yes on the code. A-listers like Shonda Rhimes, Jenji Kohan, Mike Schur, Oliver Stone, and Tina Fey are among the signatories.

The ATA countered the WGA’s demands about packaging and producing with a proposal that calls for transparency and increased communication measures around both practices. But that’s been a nonstarter with the Guild, since the WGA is a union lobbying for changes on behalf of a collective body, and the ATA’s “Statement of Choice” proposal operates on case-by-case terms with individual clients.

Goodman, the WGA president, has been clear about the Guild’s unwillingness to bend on the issues of packaging and producing, saying, “There are negotiations where there is no middle ground, where there are basic principles that are not subject to compromise … But it is crucial for us to understand there is no meaningful compromise where conflict of interest is concerned. It’s a binary choice. Either agencies put our interest first, and make their money from our success, or, like now, they will continue in the business of maximizing their own success while writers suffer.”

So what happens if agencies don’t sign this code of conduct?
In a divide that’s pretty indicative of this whole fight, even the language used to describe what might happen after the Guild vote is under debate. Here’s what we know: If the vote passes and the current operating agreement expires without a new one on April 6, any ATA member agencies that don’t agree to the code — not just the Big Four, but the hundreds of agencies in Hollywood — will not be allowed to represent Guild writers. The WGA frames this as a decision made by the agencies: If one doesn’t sign the code, it’s choosing to cut off client relationships due to a failure of compliance. The ATA, however, describes this scenario as writers firing their agents because of a new collective rule, framing union action as the Guild demanding its members dismiss their agents. (For instance, UTA CEO Jeremy Zimmer says, “The WGA is trying to make a decision for everyone by eliminating everyone’s choice.”) The point is, neither side can even agree on who is doing the walking, which shows you just how far apart the WGA and ATA are in this negotiation.

If the code is enacted but the Big Four agencies don’t sign it, how will writers get jobs?
In his February address to Guild members, Goodman said 75 percent of respondents in a recent WGA survey said they got themselves their most recent jobs, not their agents. Multiple television executives told Vulture that the staffing pipeline might not run as smoothly, but they weren’t worried about writers rooms getting filled. “Will it hold up production realistically? Probably not,” said one TV exec, who added that lesser-known writers would have the hardest time getting connected with showrunners and in-development projects without agents to facilitate on their behalf.

In response to this concern, the WGA’s Gary told Vulture, “There are a couple of systems that the Guild is building out right now and we’ll be rolling out shortly” to serve as a stopgap measure and help “the most vulnerable Guild members” find work until the WGA and ATA can come to terms. An attempted peer-to-peer solution — which Gary said he could not disclose yet — would likely have to fill in for agents until, hopefully, new terms can be reached. “The system right now is going to be heavily reliant on showrunners, and I think it will be at least sort of incumbent upon the showrunners to work together, communicate well, and help each other seek out writers that they need for their rooms,” he says.

What are people in Hollywood saying about this?
Across Hollywood, the battle is a hot topic. One of the most powerful agents in the land, WME President* Ari Greenburg, said in a negotiation round last week that the Guild was “there for theatrics, not progress.” Another agency source told Deadlinethat a recent modified proposal from the WGA amounted to putting “lipstick on a pig.” Meanwhile, one studio executive who spoke to Vulture called packaging “fucking evil.”

Film producer Keith Calder (Blindspotting, Anomalisa) drew an unfavorable analogy between representation in Hollywood and sports.



Writer and producer Amy Berg (Counterpart, Person of Interest) has posted several threads about the issue to Twitter, calling packaging a “conflict of interest” and affiliate producer operations “an anti-trust crime.”




David Simon was even more unsparing in his criticism. In an essay detailing his earliest Hollywood experiences, Simon wrote, “Packaging is a lie. It is theft. It is fraud. In the hands of the right U.S. Attorney, it might even be prima facie evidence of decades of racketeering. It’s that fucking ugly,” adding later on, “Only the end of packaging will restore a market in which writers are paid competitively for writing. And only an agent whose priority is having his client paid competitively is a means to achieving that result.”

On the WGA’s website you can read a list of horror stories from anonymous Guild members detailing ways they say they’ve been harmed by packaging. Some describe shows that were “held hostage” after writers turned down packages; others say their agents aren’t interested in finding them work as staff writers because their singular concern is packaging. Some say they’ve had shows sold as packages without even being informed. Gary serves as a Team Captain in the WGA, meaning he’s a point person who functions as a kind of peer organizer for other Guild members, and he says most of the concerns he fields are not about individual agents, but their employers: “What I hear from the people I’ve talked to most — again and again and again — is that everyone is scared that their agents, as much as they like them, aren’t working as best they can for them. And not because they don’t want to, but because the system doesn’t reward them for it.”

Have any agencies sided with the Guild?
The fifth-largest agency, Paradigm, has indicated they will not sign the code, because they say “the agency business has become far more overhead intensive” and packaging revenue is necessary for operations. And in a FAQ doc available for clients, WME states its position clearly: “WME is not signing the code.”

So far, only one of the ATA’s member agencies, Pantheon Talent Agency, has said they will sign the code. According to the Guild, 23 non-ATA agencies have also signaled they will sign. The WGA also hopes that some franchised agents will leave their employers if they don’t sign the code, taking their client lists and operating independently in compliance with the Guild. In a statement that caused much hand-wringing, Goodman said: “I am saying that our collective power here is the power of divide and conquer. The agencies and agents all compete for talent, and when we make clear that we are leaving those who will not change, the change will come.”

*This article previously identified Ari Greenburg incorrectly as the CEO of WME, and stated that WME has an ownership stake in Endeavor Content. In fact, Greenburg is the president of WME, and both entities are owned by Endeavor. It has been corrected throughout.








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WGA West board member Adam Conover, creator and star of Netflix’s The G Word with Adam Conover, said, “This is why we’re striking. The studios are trying to turn writing into a gig job. Eliminating the writers room, forcing screenwriters to work for free, paying late night writers a ‘day rate’. If we don’t fight back, writing will cease to exist as a livable career.”
 

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Good for them. Billions made off their ideas and work. What they get paid out and what they're asking for is peanuts comparatively.
 

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Hollywood Hit With Writers Strike After Talks With AMPTP Fail; Guild Slams Studios For “Gig Economy” Mentality​

By Dominic Patten, David Robb, Peter White
May 1, 2023 8:42pm
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The Writers Guild of America is on strike.
“Though we negotiated intent on making a fair deal – and though your strike vote gave us the leverage to make some gains – the studios’ responses to our proposals have been wholly insufficient, given the existential crisis writers are facing,” the WGA said in a message sent directly to members just now. “We must now exert the maximum leverage possible to get a fair contract by withholding our labor,” the guild leadership added. “Members of the Negotiating Committee, Board and Council will be out with you on the picket lines.”
News of the strike, which takes effect in a few hours, came late Monday after the guild’s negotiations with the AMPTP failed to reach an agreement on a new film and scripted TV contract. It’s the WGA’s first strike since the 100-day walkout of 2007-08.











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WGA Strike Explained: The Issues, The Stakes, Movies & TV Shows Affected — And How Long It Might Last​


Less than an hour after talks with the studios ended and over three hours before their current contract officially expires, the guild also made a public announcement of the labor action :
Following the unanimous recommendation of the WGA Negotiating Committee, the Board of Directors of the Writers Guild of America West (WGAW) and the Council of the Writers Guild of America, East (WGAE), acting upon the authority granted to them by their memberships, have voted unanimously to call a strike, effective 12:01 AM, Tuesday, May 2.
The decision was made following six weeks of negotiations with Netflix, Amazon, Apple, Disney, Discovery-Warner, NBC Universal, Paramount and Sony under the umbrella of the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP). The WGA Negotiating Committee began this process intent on making a fair deal, but the studios’ responses have been wholly insufficient given the existential crisis writers are facing.
The companies’ behavior has created a gig economy inside a union workforce, and their immovable stance in this negotiation has betrayed a commitment to further devaluing the profession of writing. From their refusal to guarantee any level of weekly employment in episodic television, to the creation of a “day rate” in comedy variety, to their stonewalling on free work for screenwriters and on AI for all writers, they have closed the door on their labor force and opened the door to writing as an entirely freelance profession. No such deal could ever be contemplated by this membership.


Picketing will begin tomorrow afternoon.
As well as declaring a strike status tonight, the guild have said when and where the first picketing will take place. With locations such as Netflix’s Hollywood offices, CBS TV City near the Grove and the other usual suspects of Disney, Universal, and more, the initial pickets in LA will go up at 1 PM PT.
The declaration by the guild follows a statement at 7:59 PM Monday from the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers that bluntly stated: “Negotiations between the AMPTP and the WGA concluded without an agreement today.”
Illuminating members on what big difference were between what the WGA was asking for and what they say the studios were putting on the table, the guild revealed tonight just how truly far apart the two sides were up until the end of talks on the money and the future. “WGA proposals would gain writers approximately $429 million per year; AMPTP’s offer is approximately $86 million per year, 48% of which is from the minimums increase,” stated the guild.
On the topic of AI, the WGA wanted to “regulate use of artificial intelligence on MBA covered projects: AI can’t write or rewrite literary material; can’t be used as source material; and MBA-covered material can’t be used to train AI.” The response from the studios was a rejection of the WGA’s proposal, and then a counter offer of “annual meetings to discuss advancements in technology.”
RELATED: What Went Wrong? Writers & Studios Reveal What They Couldn’t (And Could) Agree On As Strike Is Set
Along with the first major Tinseltown strike in 15 years, the WGA has scheduled an information session for members for May 3 at the more than 6,000 capacity Shrine Auditorium . Even before that, as picket signs go up tomorrow, late-night shows on both coasts will be shutting down , along with writers rooms and any big-screen or small-screen project that still is fine-tuning or grinding out scripts.
All over town agents and producers are moving with last minute haste to get deals sewn up before midnight so in some cases some scribes can get one last pay check, we hear.
The guild started making picket signs last week after issuing a long list of “strike rules,” which prohibit members from working on struck productions, and from selling and pitching scripts during the strike.
RELATED: Deadline’s Full Strike Coverage
Going into the talks, the guild had been seeking a major overhaul in compensation and residuals formulae, as well as curbs on mini-rooms, where groups of writers work in advance of the production of a television series to break stories and write scripts.
RELATED: WGA Strike Picket Line Locations List For Los Angeles & New York
Battered by low residuals, a lack of streaming data information, job insecurity and more, writers are bringing in less money overall despite a content boom in recent year of more shows and more platforms The low income most scribes are experiencing is something that neither side truly disputes, even if they have widely divergent approaches as of now on how to resolve the problem.
The guild also wants greater protections for its members’ over-scale payments, noting that with the rise of streaming, more writers at all levels are working at scale than ever before, including many showrunners.
 
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WGA Tells Members They Must Instruct Their Agents To Stop Seeking Jobs For Them During Strike​

By David Robb

David Robb

Labor Editor

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May 2, 2023 8:53am
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Members today at WGAW HQ in Los AngelesWGAWEST/Twitter
On Day 1 of the WGA strike, the guild is telling members to inform their agents, lawyers and managers that they are “immediately instructed to engage in no further negotiations, meetings or discussions with any struck company concerning my performance of writing services on future or pending projects, or for the sale or option of literary material I have written, alone or with a writing partner.”

RELATED STORY​

WGA Strike Explained: The Issues, The Stakes, Movies & TV Shows Affected — And How Long The 2023 Work Stoppage Might Last​


Under the guild’s strike rules, they’re also being told to tell their representatives that “I hereby revoke your authority to engage in any of the foregoing activities until the WGA withdraws the strike order.”


RELATED: What Went Wrong? Writers & Studios Reveal What They Couldn’t (And Could) Agree On As Strike Is Set
The WGA went on strike last night at 12:01 a.m. Tuesday after the guild accused the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers of refusing to bargain on the guild’s core issues, which include minimum staffing, curbs on mini-rooms, the establishment of viewer-based streaming residuals, the use of artificial intelligence, guaranteed weeks of work for comedy/variety writers, and full pension and health contributions for writing teams.
RELATED: Deadline’s Full Strike Coverage
Picket lines are going up today and throughout the strike, however long it lasts, at numerous locations in Los Angeles and New York.
RELATED: Striking Writers Rally On Social Media; “Don’t Believe The Spin That’s Already Coming Out. We’re Going To Fight”
The WGA is also telling members that the guild’s strike rules require them to tell the companies they’ve been dealing with that they must “promptly return to me or delete all literary material or sample scripts owned by me and currently in your possession. Please destroy or return to me any physical copies of such literary material or delete any electronic copies, including as attachments to emails, wherever stored.”
 

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