I don't really care how much the latest superhero film took at the box office, although I'd probably know if you asked me. When I watch a film the main thing I am looking for is a good story. I like it when I look up at the big screen and can see a part of me staring back at me. More than anything, I am still looking for Jimmy Stewart and Jack Lemmon and Billy Wilder in every film I see.
Bill D'Elia is currently Executive Producer/Director on the TNT show 'Monday Mornings', and the upcoming pilot 'The Crazy Ones', which will see a much anticipated return to series television for Robin Williams. Bill's previous credits as an EP and director include 'Ally McBeal', 'Boston Legal' and 'Harry's Law'.
This is an exciting interview for me. As I explained to Bill - it was while watching 'Ally McBeal' that I really began paying attention to who was directing theepisodes -- and it turned out that many of my favourites were directed by him. The same goes for 'Boston Legal' - he was responsible for the unique style of the show, and for many of the greatest episodes.
When you're in LA, what do you miss most about New York? Spontaneity. There is none in L.A. There is plenty in N.Y. You just don't bump into anyone in L.A. unless you both happen to be working on the same stages or the same lot. Whenever I am in N.Y. I invariably run into someone I know and wind up having a dinner, lunch, or drinks. That just never happens in L.A. You have to work on seeing people. Last time I was in N.Y. I ran into two friends from L.A. We live minutes from each other and never see each other in L.A. Had dinner with each and haven't seen them since we're back in L.A.
I was a huge fan of 'Ally McBeal'. And it was the first time I really started noticing directors names on the credits -- I would always be happy when your name came up, because yours tended to be some of the episodes I loved the most. But I realise it's strange to say that, because every director is working within the confines of the established style of the show --- and a director isn't there to put their individual stamp on it with each episode. So I guess what I am asking is, what do you feel a director brings to each episode -- and how does it differ from director to director?
It's actually one of the biggest things. There is a difference. It is hard to define, but the shows that I have done, mostly with David Kelley, have a distinct tone. A blend of comedy and drama that not all directors get. What you look for as an producer hiring those directors is an understanding of the tone and the style, then a hope that they bring something to the show that surprises you. A really good director always, always has a point of view on the material. If you've hired the right person, that point of view enhances the tone of the show. My initial success as a television director was an understanding of the uniqueness of the particular show I was directing, but not allowing it to overwhelm my own sensibilities, my own likes and dislikes. I was (and am) always willing to take chances. You always look for a director that can stay within the established tone and style of the show, and yet somehow surprise you and take chances, think of things you may not have. It's a tricky balance. The reason you may notice one director's episode over another may very well be that the script was better for that episode. But it may also be that particular director brought a unique and particular take to the show.
Do you ever have big disagreements with the directors you've hired? Even though you hire people who understand the tone and 'get it', these shows are your babies, and I imagine it can be a difficult and complex thing.
There have been times, but only a few, where I've had real disagreements with a director, but I will never interfere with his choices on set. I feel that once he or she is directing I don't want to do anything to undermine that authority. What I will do is take that director aside and quietly give a note, usually trying to do it at the end of the day, or discreetly if it's during a take. When you mention the style of Boston Legal, which was so specific, there were times when the shows I directed were full of that style and other shows were less so. It always depended on the particular story I was telling that week, the particular script. I let the directors know that the style was a tool to use at their discretion. I didn't want it to ever be forced. But what happens is, either they understand how to use that tool or they don't. If they don't, they don't get invited back.
The thing that sticks out for me in David Kelley's shows are the wonderful relationships between characters. I'm thinking mostly about Cage and Fish; Crane and Shore -- they're some of my favourites in television history. It goes without saying that David's writing is hugely responsible for this - but what other elements made them come together?
Having been more intimately involved with Crane and Shore on Boston Legal, I can say that what happened there was that we just caught lightening in a bottle. Something happened there that happens with the greatest comedy teams, a chemistry born of the uniqueness that each of them brought to the show. The actors could not be more different in their approaches to the material, and in real life would not have been friends, although they liked each other. But the pairing of the two dissimilar types, and the mutual respect they had for each other gave us something we never planned. The show was not originally going to be about the two of them. But when we saw what we had, we leaned on it. David has a unique ability to write to an actor's strength and mine it for gold, both comedically and dramatically. He sure did so with Boston Legal.
I've tried tracking down a copy of your first film, 'The Feud', but to no avail. How do you feel about it now, looking back? What did you get right? What went completely wrong?
That movie is only available on VHS and it is hard to find now. But I can say that, for me, I got it right. there are probably a million and one things that I might do differently were I to make that movie today, but I am extremely proud of it still. I was able to set a tone with that picture that is a through line in all my work and a reason I think I clicked with David Kelley's writing. Thomas Berger, the author of the novel on which it is based, like David, has a similar comedic take on life that definitely is in line with my own.
I'd love to know more specifically what your role tends to encompass as an Executive Producer. For example, with 'Monday Mornings', what specifically were you/are you doing?
Well it encompasses everything from beginning to end on every episode. Whether I am directing or not, my fingerprints are all over every episode. I try to give every director the knowledge that I have about the mechanics of how the show works...creatively and practically. From how the actors approach their work, to how the crew works. Essentially I act as the Artistic Director of the company. In essence I am the show runner and I am involved in every aspect except the writing of the scripts. That's David's domain. I will give notes on the script, work with the director of that episode, and then after I get that director's cut I will finish every episode with the editor, all the way through the music selection and final sound mix and color correction. At a certain point in the making of any series I am working on as many as six or seven episodes in various stages of production from pre planning to final delivery.
I was disappointed, as many were, when 'Harry's Law' came to an abrupt end. In future years - do you think shows like that will find new ways of surviving? It makes me think of 'Arrested Development' on Netflix and the way new shows like 'House of Cards' are produced.
We are in the midst of a sea change in how television is distributed. I liken it to when television showed up and radio and movie theaters were affected. We will adapt, but no one is sure exactly how. And it is changing rapidly. It's a fun time to be making television.
When you come in and direct a single episode of a show, like 'Glee' or 'The West Wing', how does it differ from a show you've been more involved with; I imagine it can be quite a challenge?
Mostly it is easier to come in as a visiting director now since I am so aware of the problems the producers may have running their show. I can focus on directing without worrying about producing so I feel like my load is lightened.
Your collaborations with David span back more than 20 years. Why is it that you work so well together?
I'm never quite sure how to answer that question, but part of the answer is embedded in some of my previous answers. First of all, I get his writing, which is some of the smartest in the history of television. I have a great respect for the written word and David is a great writer. I am first and foremost a director and I look at things that way. David is first and foremost a writer. We compliment each other's strengths. In addition we have great respect for each other. We have developed a real short hand over the years that makes things run smoothly between us in the fast paced world of television production. And as David has said "We may reject each others ideas, but we never reject each other." He lets me run the show and it frees him up to write without worry. Then together we finish each episode, each looking at it with a different set of sensibilities, yet somehow in sync with each other, collaborating on the finished product.
Going back to 'Boston Legal', which I rewatched in it's entirety very recently. It was really fascinating to me how you were quite ruthless with characters. As seasons end; people would be chopped out. And even new characters, after a few episodes, if you didn't feel their stories were developing, they'd swiftly disappear. Was there a change in attitude towards this compared with previous shows? I felt that in 'Ally Mcbeal', you'd keep people around a little longer, even after they'd run out of juice, story-wise.
Boston Legal was unique in that we really were making it up as we went along. It was the first show I did with David where I was in from the beginning and I think perhaps for that reason more of my sensibility comes through on that series. I joined Chicago Hope in season two as an Executive Producer (and ran it with John Tinker, David left it to us to make the show) and Ally McBeal in season three. I directed the pilot to Boston Legal and hadn't on the previous shows. Because it was a spin off of The Practice, BL in the beginning was all about finding the tone: how funny? how serious? It took us a while I think, and we were lucky we had James and Bill at the center to hold the show together as we found it.
As far as the changing cast, that's part of it. As the show evolved into mainly the stories between Shore and Crane, the other members of the ensemble changed a bit from season to season.
Boston Legal had such a unique visual style; which still feels fresh today. How did that particular look and shooting style come about?
I am so happy to hear your comments on that. I had a real take on how I wanted the show to look and feel. It was born out of character and tone. It felt to me like the characters in the show were off center and shot from the hip as lawyers and I wanted the look to reflect that. I thought "What if we shot it like a documentary, but glossy and pretty? What if the camera was restless and moving, capturing it in a different style?" I have to say it was a battle at first as I had it all in my head. The network was resistant and David, God bless him, just let me loose to do it. I refused to change the look, even when the network pushed me to do so, at one point even telling them that if they wanted the show to look different then they would have to get someone else to do it because I wouldn't. Funny looking back on it now. In addition, I did the same with the music. I told Danny Lux, our composer, that although the show was set in Boston, let's make it sound like it was in New Orleans, which led him to our jazz like theme and score.
The music was great. I remember when I first watched the show; I was a bit cynical I guess, unsure about the music and visuals. But of course, I grew to love them completely. And when I re-watched recently I remember thinking around season three or four that "oh, they've toned down the music a bit and the camera is less crazy," but then I'd refer back to the earlier episodes and no, you hadn't, you'd stuck to the style. And it still feels really bold, and as I was saying, fresh! Has working with the networks got easier over the years, or is it always a battle? Do you have to pick and choose your battles?
Although it varies depending on the network because they all have different philosophies, for the most part working with the broadcast networks has not gotten any easier. When you are in sync it's great. When you are not, it's awful. And there is nothing worse than bad ratings. That's when everyone has ideas on how to fix it. And I am not saying the network notes are always wrong, they can be really helpful. It's just that sometimes the show you want to make is slightly different than the one they want to make. That's just a kind of hell for everyone. However, making a cable show for TNT was a different experience. We made ten episodes, finished them, then they aired. They were extremely supportive and loved what we were doing. It's the first time I directed a pilot that my cut went to air without changes. It's probably also important to note that there is a real difference in the business model. A network makes many many shows that need to last 22 episodes a season, season after season. And because of that, they expect many to fail. The cable networks make fewer shows and fewer episodes of those shows, many times expecting them to last for only a few seasons. The sheer volume of broadcast production is staggering. They have a lot to deal with and a lot of people to answer to. I'm sure that has something to do with the difference in the cultures between cable and network. Was the Jerry Espenson opening credit sequence your idea? I loved that. It's actually my ringtone!
I remember it very well. That was David's idea. Those silly ideas, breaking the fourth wall for example, were almost always from him. There were so many of them and I loved them.
And now you're working on a new comedy pilot, with Robin Williams. That's interesting to me because I've been talking a lot recently with friends, about how the great comedy actors are only as good as the material. Robin Williams, for me, is one of the all time comedy greats - but in recent years; the material he's had to work with has been hit and miss I feel. So the idea of him doing a comedy sitcom with you is extremely exciting to me. How is the pilot going? It must be exciting -- and you are building a great cast around him too...
Robin is indeed a one of a kind genius. It is evident from the moment you meet him. The potential of his return to series television is an exciting thing to be a part of. When we discussed the series at first, we thought that maybe it would be wise to go out to the networks with an actor attached. Ken Miller, our casting director suggested Robin might be looking for a television series, and although it seemed a long shot we sent him the script. He loved it, met with David, and was on board immediately. Much the same thing happened with Kathy Bates on Harry's Law. We thought it was a long shot for her to do a series, sent her the script, and she said yes within a week. David's writing is a powerful magnet for actors in search of great material. The new show is called The Crazy Ones and it is set in the world of advertising. Robin plays the legendary head of an ad agency. In a strange reflection on real life, I started my career in advertising, moving to directing out of that. I directed hundreds of television commercials back in the 80's, culminating in my adaptation of The Feud, which brought me to TV. Full circle. Crazy huh?
Time will undoubtedly pass. In the two weeks just gone, how much have you written? How much have you read? How many movies have you seen? How many ideas have you put into action?
I was talking to someone last night whose Dad is a much loved film actor. And this weird thing happens when people make it big; everyone assumes they were always doing well, always the lucky ones. They think Brad Pitt was born as Brad Pitt the movie star, they have no inkling as to the amount of work that goes into a career.
If you're 20 and waiting to be discovered, forget about it. Whether you get discovered or not isn't the point -- the point is to get great at what you do.
You don't need to protect a reputation you haven't built yet. You don't need damage control when nobody cares about you anyway. Your job isn't to build an image of perfect movie star potential, your job is to make shit movies, to desperately need the work, to fight endlessly for the tiny pieces of progression.
Knowledge and experience count for everything.
You're meant to make shit films that you share on Facebook. You're allowed to perform plays in dives to empty chairs. Paying your dues isn't some abstract concept, it's the heart of this industry. If you haven't got footage out there you're deeply embarrassed about, then you're not really an actor or director.
If you're complaining on Facebook that nobody wants to pay you to act or write, you're just not at that level yet. You could bitch on Twitter, OR you could develop your own comedy character, write five pages and read an autobiography of someone who has been there and done it.
And sure, you say you've done all this and still you're not where you want to be. Well you're just not there yet! If you want steady progression, work in a supermarket, they have a fast-track programme to make you a manager in six months. Or if you want to earn money, work in finance! Talent alone is not enough. X Factor and The Voice are selling you a false idea. I was working with kids in school recently, and they kept asking me, "how do I get famous?" They thought that was the ideal. But I know famous people. The thing they hate most about their lives is that they're famous - because they can't buy a can of beans with being approached, harassed, scrutinised. All of the best artists struggled. For years. Everyone I meet, including the people I interview on this site, they went through piles of dogshit to get to where they are.
Of course it will get you down. You'll get depressed and lose your creative juice. Why do you think I didn't blog for three months?
But you get back up, stronger and more knowledgeable than ever before.
This is a tough industry, but you win out in the end through knowledge mixed with enthusiasm and, of course, longevity.
'It'll All Work Out', by Tom Petty. Such a heartbreaking song.
"When she needed me I wasn't round, that's the way it goes, it'll all work out."
One moment everything is so intense and then before you know it she's gone, you're gone, and it was just some time in life you once knew. Some time when you wasn't really there for her. You thought you were, but looking back, you see it from her angle.
"Better off with him than here with me."
They think you're the one. She thinks, "How could there ever be a time when you're not the one I call?" But they move on and find a new person to call home and you're just a long gone memory of some year gone by before they met the person they were really meant to meet.
"There were times apart, there were times together, I was pledged to her for worse or better."
Most of the time it isn't fear of commitment. It's fear of the other person breaking from the commitment and being okay with it. And off they go into a different life.
"Now the wind is high, and the rain is heavy, and the water's rising in the levy."
Life goes on. The wind blows as you're caught out in the rainswept streets, fully aware you're only a human being, crashing up against the pouring rain as you wonder why you still think of her. "Still I think of her when the sun goes down, never goes away but it all works out."
It all works out in bittersweet many years after the fact ways.
"She had eyes so blue they looked like weather."
You never forget a girl like that, collapsing into your life, firing up your insides and making everything seem somehow so painfully and aggravatingly alive. And you knew at the time the hours were borrowed and then years later she is off out there doing whatever it is she's doing, a gone wild happy magic superstar in the night and you're stumbling home in the London rain.
The last minute of the song doesn't need any words, it's the journey. The bittersweet sound of time gone and places to go and exactly where you are right now.
Last year, at the Raindance Film Festival, there was a definite buzz about the film 'How Do You Write A Joe Schermann Song'. On top of that, a bunch of my friends told me that I just had to see it. And then, because I'm a stupid idiot who reacts badly to being told what to do, I skipped it. And then it went on to win Best Film at the festival. It seems that the writer/director, GARY KING, has forgiven me after all - and is now here to tell us a bit more about his movie.
We missed each other at Raindance. I went and saw something else when I had the opportunity to see your movie --- I didn't like that film and yours went on to win best film! Tell me a little about what I missed and what your experience was like in the UK. I'm sorry we missed each other. We'll have to change that on my next visit out there. I like to think of our film as a realistic portrayal of the life of a struggling artist and how he deals with balancing relationships and artistic integrity, told through the backdrop of Broadway. Audiences love seeing it on the big screen and always compare it to going to a Broadway show. I'm very proud of the songs and performances the actors all give. My wife (Susie King), Christina Rose (lead actress) and myself truly enjoyed our London visit and screening at Raindance. It was definitely a once in a lifetime experience culminating in winning the Film of the Festival. We never expected that to happen. One of the best parts of the festival was meeting the festival organizers and programmers, the wonderful audiences and other filmmakers. I love the trailer. Did you cut it yourself? I think it's really hard for trailers to capture indie films; because they don't tend to have those obvious moments like the bigger movies-- y'know, the car crashes and explosions. How was your trailer put together?
Thanks for the kind words. I did cut it myself. To me, the trailer is a whole other art form where different rules and aesthetics apply. Its philosophy and approach totally contrast the narrative long form. I definitely watch a ton of trailers and bookmark the ones that stand out to me. I studied. their structure, taking note of how many music cues there are, when dialogue is spoken, pacing, length of shots. There were two articles that served as great resources for me: http://filmmakermagazine.com/37093-first-impressions/ http://workbookproject.com/blog/2008/12/31/new-breed-cutting-an-effective-indie-trailer/
I think we're in an interesting era for film directors. A director can finish a feature and then go and do a short, as you're doing -- and then maybe work on something very different. The world is changing and the rules are constantly being broken. What has inspired you most about this era we're in-- and what has scared you the most? I remember having a meeting with film producer Ted Hope a few years ago where he gave some good advice about not being stuck in one "format" of storytelling that could limit your potential audience reach. He suggested that along with features, not to be afraid of going back to short form storytelling; be it in film, a web series and/or other creative outlets. I'm very lucky that following SCHERMANN SONG, I was approached to direct a short film. At first, I was hesitant about going back to shorts having done features... but seeing many high-profile feature film directors tackle short films, commercials and other things it made me think twice about my attitude. And it's actually tough -- maybe even almost tougher -- to tell an effective story in a short amount of time, which was a challenge I welcomed. The problem with a lot of short films is the filmmaker is just dying to make a feature and its running time shows that. For me, having made features, I don't have that issue anymore, so my goal is to be short and sweet. Kickstarter had only been around a year or so when you used it to fund your movie. Do you think you could have made the film without it? And where did most of the money come from -- was it friends, or strangers? Do you have any tips for people setting out to raise money by crowdfunding? We were very lucky in that we had our campaign very early on where people didn't even know what Kickstarter was. I think literally there were less than 10 film campaigns when we did ours. Thankfully my creative team and I have a fairly large social media network, so we never personally met the majority of our generous backers. It was pretty amazing and humbling to get that kind of support. The crowdfunding landscape has changed so much that I don't feel I can give proper advice on what to do. I can offer that one has to be very genuine and really show that they care about their project. I see many campaigns now where it seems that just by launching them online they expect money to come rolling in... and that rarely happens.
Do you think the success of your film has given you more opportunities? People have this idea of the 'big break', which I always think people need to be cautious about -- but I'd love to hear your views.
I've been making films for 9 years and feel that SCHERMANN SONG has just gotten my big toe in the door -- at least the doors are opening now. Thanks to the film's success, I definitely have been meeting more and more people interested in what I'm doing now. And it's a wonderful feeling to have investors come on board believing in the next project I'm planning to shoot this summer. I have a long way to go to be where I want to be both career wise and creatively as a filmmaker. However, I'm getting paid to do what I love, so there's nothing better than that. Support independent film and Purchase/Rent 'How Do You Write A Joe Schermann Song'. It's available on DVD, Blu-ray, iTunes, Games Consoles, Netflix, and many more places. You can get the film HERE.
It's so hard these days, to watch a movie, to read a book, to hold a conversation. I want to run so fast into so many corners; climb the hills and dive into ideas and scramble through every ambition I find I have.
Every film is so long, I want them over in two minutes so I can be on to the next thing. But two minutes is so short, I want to watch a twenty hour movie. I want to watch a twenty hour movie and at the same time make twenty movies and write fifteen screenplays and argue with the girl I like and sleep but stay awake the whole time because there's just so many things I want to do.
And most days, I feel like there's nothing I want to do. What do I really want to achieve? I don't know. But then we go for coffee and I tell you I want to move to New York and move to Australia and explore Africa and cycle in Amsterdam. I want to write a film, direct a web-series, produce a TV show. Sometimes I want to do it all so much, other times I want to sink away because I don't know what I want to do with life.
And most of the time I'm achieving nothing. Until someone reminds me I've achieved so much of everything.
So I think about doing less, so I can focus on more. But other times I'm almost sure I'm doing nothing and need to put more thought into absolutely everything.
It's good to look back. What were you doing three years or only three months ago? How far have you come? What new stuff do you know?
I write better I eat better and I care better. And slowly things make more sense, even though often they make less sense.
I have no clarity mixed with absolute and complete clarity.
I want to meditate. I want to relax. I want a beach.
But I want to edit in the morning, direct in the afternoon, write before dinner and then have a meeting for dessert. I want it all. I want nothing. I don't know and I don't know and do I ever know?
So, I knew the Globe wasn't really the Globe, but I thought it was at least on the original site. It turns out that the real Globe was down the road somewhere but they decided to build the replica by the water because, as our tour guide explained, "we quite like being by the Thames actually".
That was the tour guide's biggest insight of the thirty minutes we were graced with her presence.
See, it wasn't actually a tour at all. Rehearsals were going on inside, so the chirpy guide told us we were not allowed to talk or take pictures when inside the theatre.
So most of it happened outside of the replica Globe. We all gathered in front of a coffee stand while she explained a little --- and by a little I mean, very little, about the theatre and its history.
Then we went into the Globe and watched rehearsals for five minutes, after which we were shuffled out; silenced and pictureless.
She explained a few more things, like where to find the gift shop.
Then, sensing we were all disgruntled, she allowed us to trundle back inside to sit and watch for five more minutes. The actors were gone, but a drummer was testing his kit as a another guy drilled something into the side of the stage.
Then we were bundled out into the cold. Tour over.
When you pay for a tour, you have a level of expectation, like maybe you'll get shown around. Everything she told us about the site happened outside, afterwards. Sure, it's interesting to hear about the origins of the pillars and the thatched roof-- but not when you're cornered off by the gift shop without even a photograph to refer to.
Maybe the tour is always this bad. Or maybe their freedom of movement is severely limited during rehearsals but they still want to make a buck.
I can deal with the fact that there is no evidence of Shakespeare's writing or authorship. I can handle the fact that this incarnation of the Globe is a fake, in a random spot, based on a mere guess as to what the Globe was like. I would be able to deal with all of that stuff, if they would at least give us a decent tour. If we could at least ask questions inside the theatre.
Apparently, back in the Shakespeare's heyday, entrance to see a play cost one penny. In this day and age, of course, you can't expect to see a performance for that price. But for the Globe tour? It's probably about right.
I used to be known for being prolific. When that happens, you want to keep up appearances, you want to keep showing how great you are at churning out content. Not that quantity equals quality, but I'm happy with most of what I've written on this site. I haven't lost interest, I've changed changed my approach to it. I used to want to be the best blogger out there. I wanted to get the best interviews, write the best content, and be some kind of authority on creativity and the world of independent film. There's nothing wrong with goals like that, except that they become extremely pressurising. For all my adult life, people have asked me, "has watching films been ruined for you because you also work in film?" The answer was always no. Until more recently, when it became true. I wasn't loving movies. In fact, often I actively didn't want to sit through them.
We love films because we get to escape. We get to be entertained. We get to make new best friends and enemies for two hours. We get to be a part of something. But I wasn't part of it. I guess you could say; I was distracted from it.
Distracted because; I'd always want to write, always want to have something to say. Always want to put my 'kid in the front row' spin on what the film was about, or what was going on in the industry. These thoughts would be rampaging through my brain during every film I watched.
Creativity is fragile. About 2% of artists I know are actively creating. The rest are trapped. It's like a wrestler has them in a headlock and won't let go. I was getting like that. It's not just because of the blog, but it's a good example of it. It was the same in all my creative endeavours. Passion is good. But sometimes it leads to obsessiveness. It leads to habitually trying to write even when there's nothing to say, even when it's time to sleep, even when it's time to turn up somewhere for a friend or do something with a loved one. Your brain is elsewhere, on your work, on your ideas.
But your ideas aren't even there. The ones you force out suck. You get too obsessed with trying to be productive. You end up bashing your head against a wall a million times over.
So I stopped. For a while, I totally stopped watching films. Now, I'm loving them again, and I don't feel the pressure to blog about them, to have something unique or witty or interesting to say.
The greatest thing about watching a movie is watching a movie.
I no longer want to be the best blogger or any such thing. Turns out there are hundreds of great film bloggers on the internet. The pie is not so small that I need to be near the top, I'm just one slice that you get to sample when I'm in the mood to write and you're in the mood to read. That's enough for me, that's why I'm here.
I've watched tons of films recently and I feel no need to write about them, which is refreshing. I'm watching films just to watch films, the way it's meant to be.
I've lost my obsessive need to be productive, to be competitive. Now I'm just loving what I love; which is movies.
