By Bob Gelfand
I was walking through Point Fermin Park one morning when I came across a half-circle of orange traffic cones set a fair distance from a makeshift crane.
A young man the size and weight of an NFL offensive lineman approached me and insisted that I walk around the area marked by the cones. I guess I don't take kindly to being ordered around by total strangers for no apparent reason, particularly on the sidewalks and pedestrian pathways of my own city; I stepped out of his way to see what was so terribly important, and he once again moved in front of me. When I stepped to the side one more time, he jumped in front of me again, but this time shoved me hard in the chest with both hands.
I looked up at his 275 pound bulk and told him to take his hands off of me. He hit me a second time.
It was certainly a curious experience to be assaulted by this imperfect stranger at eight o'clock on a Monday morning in a public park, but the genesis and continuation of the affair was even stranger yet. You see, what I had encountered was the industry so beloved by successive mayors and city councilmen. It's the film industry, and what I discovered upon complaining about my treatment was how the city and the industry turn a deaf ear to the public over anything that would interfere with the ability to film wherever, whenever, and however the industry chooses.
News flash: The city of Los Angeles is now inviting the public to comment on the problems we have with location film and television shooting. [The attached document contains the RFI questions that the City would like you to consider. The deadline for submission of comments is August 24, 2007. Please email your response to this RFI, titled “Request for
Information: Film Permit Services Proposal” to
This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it
]
On that particular morning, the production known as The Ring II was doing a shot in which a camera was pointing down from the top of a cliff. Our own San Pedro is blessed by the presence of cliffs and surf and buildings with an eastern look, so it has become a popular spot for location work. This particular company had apparently brought in some outside security firm to provide guard services, and I seem to have chanced upon the most intellectually challenged member of that honored profession. Of course it wasn't all that apparent just who he was at the time, because he wasn't wearing any sort of badge or jacket or other form of identification. It was as if a total stranger came up to you on the street and insisted on viewing your tax records, except that this request was accompanied by a fist.
Yes, I complained to the film crew's location manager and later that day to the studio, to the Department of Recreation and Parks, and to the organization now known as FilmL.A., but I got the stonewall treatment. One executive from the film company insulted and taunted me over the phone, taking the time to question my motives for even bothering to complain. I tried FilmL.A. They are the private firm entrusted by the city to process applications for permits to film in public areas. FilmL.A. explained ever so politely that although they had given out the permit for this production, it wasn't their job to protect the public from that sort of behavior.
It was like a bad dream, infuriating and frustrating all at once, and although I am not a particularly superstitious person, that bureaucratic runaround inspired me to cast a nondenominational curse on The Ring II and its ownership, just as so many others have cursed in their own way at the other outrages that come from location film work. (I would like to think that in some small way, that curse led to the film tanking at the box office and to the production company eventually being absorbed into another studio. Perhaps so, perhaps not, but my anger over such mistreatment represents in microcosm of what thousands of other people have felt in response to filmic abuses over the past dozen years or so.)
This month, seemingly out of the blue, the city's Administrative Officer, Karen Sisson, sent out a memo inviting the public to comment on the current situation. The memo has a broader scope of course: It invites companies to begin the process of bidding for the rights to be the official location permitting agent for the City of Los Angeles. That position has been held by the Entertainment Industry Development Corporation (EIDC), which was plagued by scandal and (depending on how you look at it) either reformed or just changed its name to FilmL.A.
The city presumably could have simply renewed its contract with FilmL.A., but it didn't. Perhaps there is some serious purpose behind this administrative act, and the new process will allow some public discussion of whether or not we wish to continue with the status quo.
In particular, we the public are invited to make our own suggestions about how the whole permitting process could handle complaints and even try to prevent the situations that result in those complaints.
There's one historical tidbit that is worthy of comment at this point because it says so much about how the industry and the city interact. In 2003, in response to widespread complaints, city council representative Cindy Miscikowski proposed that Los Angeles create a committee which would have included the film industry, members of the public, and the neighborhood councils. The only thing this would have required of the industry would have been for it to attend a few meetings and to hear a few unpleasant facts. You would have thought that they would accept the offer with grace; after all, public relations is part of their skill set.
Well, you would have been wrong. The industry packed the subcommittee hearing and threatened all sorts of dire things if the city even thought about restricting its power. (The threat of productions running away to Toronto is the new boogyman.) As for the public, all we wanted was a chance to be heard and to ask for minimal improvements. What we witnessed that day was akin to the experience I had in trying to deal with The Ring II. The arrogance was astonishing to behold. You can read about the industry's behavior in Rick Orlov's piece .
What we have learned is that the system provides no chance for the public to have input on permit applications, no matter how egregious the assault on our ears, our sleep, or our property. It allows for no process of negotiation, adjustment, or caution by the public or by its Charter-empowered representatives, the city's neighborhood councils. There is a certain level of flexibility when it comes to businesses being inconvenienced, but for most of us, the fact that we have to endure street closures on our way to work, and light pollution coming through our windows when our children are trying to sleep, is not under our control.
So here is what I suggest: All you people in the downtown area and the Palisades and the Valley and the Harbor -- everyone who experiences that arrogance and abuse, respond to this invitation. Make clear that it isn't a few cranks, but whole regions that need to be heard. Get your comments in before the August 24 deadline.
The problems aren't that hard to solve. Most of them are easy to deal with. What has been missing is any spine on the part of our city's government.
As a first step, let's dust off Cindy Miscikowski's idea. Bring the neighborhood councils into the process; let the city create a forum where neighborhood representatives and the industry can come together through a continuing, permanent mandate, and let's discuss our mutual problems together.
What was so curious the first time this idea was broached was the industry's cowardice -- what were they so afraid of, that they weren't even willing to walk into the same room with neighborhood council representatives? We could solve a lot of difficulties with minimal dislocation to the industry if only they would listen. There is no reason for any company to feel that is has to go to Toronto, but there is also no excuse for employees of the industry to beat up on the public.
One final comment: It wouldn't be fair to tar the whole industry with the sins of a few bad players. Television and film companies grace our streets on a fairly routine basis, and probably nine out of ten behave themselves and leave the area as clean (or cleaner) than before they started. If nothing else, this shows that most problems can be solved before they ever start.
In my next column, I will discuss how the industry and our neighborhood council organizations could work together to improve relations and even to give a boost to our tourist industry.
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Can't Miss: August 30 - September 3 for classic film: Cinecon in its 43rd year at the Egyptian Theater.
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