Tyler Gibb – Writer, Director, Editor, Filmmaker

I’ve been expanding the homefront around here at TylerGibb.com. In case you take the back door to get here, there’s a new page online now which showcases some of the projects I’m currently developing… In the parlance of such things.

I’d never put anything like this online before because, to be honest, I didn’t see the point. And I’m still struggling with it. What need does it fulfill for me to announce to the general public what projects I’m working on?

I’m not sure it serves any need other than its own. But maybe that’s enough. Maybe a little transparency is good. Maybe its exciting. Maybe after twelve months of seeing the same projects listed in development you too can share in my “what the hell is taking so long” disposition. Maybe.

But what’s with the graphics?

I don’t know that either. I’m experimenting here (can you tell?). The steadfast rules for scripts has always been, just write the script, 12 pt Courier font, no cover illustrations, no frills, just words. Yeah. I can see that. Keep it simple. Makes sense. You want the reader to picture it in their heads the way they want, you don’t want to dictate that to them…

But wait… Is that really the case anymore? Everything’s changing so much in the entertainment industry (in every industry) that it might be a little foolish not to reassess the old rules. 12 pt Courier font is the standard because it’s a monospaced typeface – meaning the each character requires the same amount of horizontal space on the page – thus giving the text uniformity. This uniformity is required because each page in a script is viewed to equal one minute of screen time. It’s math. It’s also the standard because that’s what typewriters used 80 years ago. But it’s not 80 years ago. It’s now. And I’ve got Photoshop.

Just saying. Things are different. Doesn’t mean I’m going to start illustrating my scripts. Like I said, the standard exists for mathematical reasons as well. But what about the periphery. The additional assets. The pitch. There’s no standard around that…

Just saying.

Things are changing…

In the world, the business and around here.

And c’mon: It does make for a pretty snazzy in-development page.

My first non-motion picture is now available.

Mankind – The Book of Eloise, 28 full colour introductory pages to a post-apocalyptic world of carnage and survival. It’s sloppy. It’s bloody. It’s the first step.

Download it:

.PDF version / .CBZ version

 The story of Mankind has officially begun.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a launch.

Kind of fun.

Just putting the finishing touches on the first release of Mankind. Which will be out this week. September 1st.

Photoshopping, coding web pages, even installed the latest version of Flash and stared at it for about ten minutes completely discombobulated. The last time I worked with Flash it was version 4. Not CS4… Macromedia Flash version 4.

I can’t say its been all roses. But there’s an end goal. There is an end goal.

First step! Mankind: The Book of Eloise. Out this week!

Is “blockbuster” a genre?

I think it might be. Now. Because, when I hear it said, I know what it means. There can be no doubt about what a blockbuster is.

Modest movies can turn out to do better than expected, think The Hangover. Sometimes extraordinarily better than expected, now think Paranormal Activity. But you wouldn’t call them “blockbusters”.

Blockbusters stand for something big, don’t then? Enormous in scope, both visually (and symphonically) grand and ideologically broad.

I say it’s a genre unto itself.

What’s different about it, perhaps, is that it’s a genre with limited accessibility to all filmmakers. One of the few. Period pieces and some sci-fi might also be unattainable at the indie level, and true blockbusters most definitely are. I can mix all the corn syrup and red dye I want and make a splatter pic but wrangling a legion of Roman soldiers to storm a castle is a little above my budget.

Ergo, I – and frankly most of the writers I know – don’t spend a lot of time dreaming up blockbusters. But then, we are Canadian, and such things are generally frowned upon up here.

However, I’m kind tired of writing within certain limitations.

I don’t know. I kind of got tired of writing small. When I wrote Minushi I sure didn’t think small. Animation is the one exception to the budget rule. With enough time and enough paper, you can bust blocks with the best of them. But I’m not really thinking animation these days either. I guess I’m not really thinking. I’m just doing.

Yeah, there’s a plan. A loose arrangement of ideas. But it’s nice, you know. To be writing above your budget. Above what’s expected. To be writing a blockbuster. The very act is sort of blockbuster in itself. The lofty ambition. Broad. Sweeping. Impossible…

… In the optimistic sense.

 I don’t know if there would be low budget filmmaking if not for the concept of deferral. Perhaps not even the concept. Just the word alone, I think, serves an important function.

Not so long ago a producer approached me to direct a film. She wanted me to work on deferral. Now, I should point out that this producer was not exactly a capital “P” producer. (In case that wasn’t clear enough by the example of her request for me to lead a project for free…) Nor did she  have any record – that I knew of – of producing anything that could safely promise me any backend. And remember, a deferral is only a deferred payment if there’s money made in the end. Moreover, this “producer” went on to tell me (as though it was a selling point) that everybody else on the production was working on deferral as well. Personally, that’s not really much incentive. This producer’s rationale for their strategy was that everybody on the crew would work extra hard to make the movie a success because they’d only get paid if the movie was a success…

Yeah… That’s a wonderful theory. So was communism. But the flaw in the logic there is that a good film is not the same as a financially successful film. For a film to even dream of being financially successful, you need to at least begin with a competent producer… Not someone who’s trying to cut corners before they even have a route planned out. That said, I suppose, if a project was truly unique and something I was incredibly passionate about, I may still be persuaded… At least I’d still be able to tell myself that, hey, if it works out, I’ll be getting paid!

But this wasn’t. Not even close.

It’s all well and good to agree to work for free, essentially, on the promise that you will be paid later if the film ever turns a profit. But who are we kidding? Film’s that rely heavily on deferral don’t turn a profit. Not for you at any rate. But nobody in the “negotiation” is going to admit to that. Least of all, perhaps, the person actually considering to defer their payday. To admit that would be like admitting you’ll just work for free. That your time has no value. So the word “deferral” actually serves a very important function in that it protects the ego of the person who’s really got nothing better to do at that particular time than to work for free.

And there’s nothing wrong with that. At least, I don’t believe there is. Once. And only once. For the experience. After all, where else are you going to get that experience? And hey, according to your “agreement”, you’ll still be getting a percentage on the backend when the movie’s a big success. So on paper, at least, you’re not a sucker.

I politely declined the offer. I’ve already had the experience of being deferred payment (indefinitely) on my own projects. And I was passionate about them.

Try anything once, just for the experience. But be wary. Nobody is better suited to put a price on your time than you.