Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Veronica Mars Movie













     Rob Thomas was getting so much good news, his cell phone couldn't handle it.
Last Wednesday, when the veteran TV showrunner launched launched a campaign to finance a movie version of his cult-hit TV show Veronica Mars on the crowd-funding site Kickstarter, he had no concept of just how successful the effort would immediately become. Within hours, the movement had spread across the internet, exciting both fans of the Kristen Bell-led teenage detective series (which ran on UPN/CW from 2004-7) and generating think-pieces of all kinds.

"It made my phone unusable, because there would be literally four pledges a second," Thomas tells    The Hollywood Reporter. "You couldn’t clear the notifications fast enough ... I had to use my computer to remove the Kickstarter app so it could function as a phone again."

Less than 12 hours into the drive, the project had reached its $2 million goal, and nearly a week later, it's still climbing, up to $3.6 million and counting, from over 56,000 donors. The cash will go toward producing a film from the Warner Bros.-owned property, which will shoot between mid-June and mid-July this summer. Thomas has been actively promoting and answering questions about the endeavor, and he doesn't plan on disappearing when the 30-day window of Kickstarter fundraising closes.

"We were built by fans, so we’ll try to do our best to keep the momentum going through that," he says, promising an open shoot with plenty of tweets and photos transmitted to the Internet. "We’re hoping to go to Comic-Con, maybe have some footage to show at Comic-Con. We have a documentary following the making of the movie."

The writer-producer continues to watch the needle rise, adjusting his in-progress script as the wallet fattens.

"The movie is outlined, but frankly, I needed to know how we were doing to figure out how to model the script and how to write it. There are very specific things that are going to be affected by what our budget is," he says. For one, Thomas wants to be able to shoot in Southern California, where the series was originally set. That's more expensive than, say, Vancouver or Michigan, but the palm trees are worth it.

"There’s an altercation [at a high school reunion in the film], and how much money we raise affects whether that is having terse words exchanged or a full-on brawl," he adds. "One if we hit certain dollar amounts, and the less spectacular if we haven’t."

As the project sets crowd-funding records, some concerns have been raised over whether a property owned by a major studio should even be on Kickstarter, which was started -- and has largely served -- as a way to support independent artists and entrepreneurs who otherwise might not have the capital to launch their vision. Kickstarter is known for helping raise funds for projects like the six shorts that have earned Oscar nominations, including Inocente, which won this year for best documentary and shot on a budget of just $52,000, or movies made by the New York Independent Film Collective. Since 2009, the site has directed over $100 million to over 8,500 indie films.

"I don’t think Veronica Mars is negatively affecting people that Kickstarter was built to serve, those people who are making $30-40,000 documentaries," Thomas defends. "I think what Veronica Mars has done is brought Kickstarter to the masses. More people are now familiar with Kickstarter, and more people are browsing Kickstarter for other projects, who now understand what it is and what it does than there were before we launched our campaign. I think we’re bringing more eyes to that site, so I think that has to be good for indie filmmakers."

On the other hand, the fervent fan base putting up its own money to fund the project is in some ways instructive to both major networks and creatives; Veronica Mars was canceled by The CW after three seasons, and once-mighty broadcasters such as NBC have seen ratings tank, thanks in part to the failure of broad efforts meant to capture wide swaths of audience.

"There are more and more markets and more networks, more places you can put shows on, the mandate becomes more and more 'Give us something that two million people love rather than attempt something that 20 million people like,'" he says. "The big networks are struggling to stay in that old model of a little something for everyone."

Yet at the same time, Thomas also knows his business model -- or even that of cable -- isn't necessarily the answer for the national broadcasters.

"I don’t know what it would do to advertisers at NBC. I suspect if [small niche shows] were the key, they’d be heading down that direction," Thomas adds, which could have been a nod at Community, the fervently-loved but little-watched comedy that is most widely known for its backstage drama, not quirky meta-humor. "Those bigger networks need big products. The things they can do better than the smaller shows like throw $3 or $4 million at the screen. No small network could’ve done Lost. That show had a budget and a cast that you could not do. Those few hits big networks have tend to make up for the failures so I don’t think they’re going to give up to the cable networks. They’re going to go down screaming, trying to do big shows that appeal to tens of millions of people."
Luckily, thanks to Kickstarter and some dedicated fans, Thomas doesn't have to worry about that struggle anymore.


 Jordan.Zakarin@THR.com   THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER


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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/18/veronica-mars-movie-rob-thomas-interview_n_2886643.html

http://marsinvestigations.net/



Sunday, January 6, 2013

Surrender to the story line


For a television critic, the beginning of any new season is a bit like the first days of school, a time of unbroken bindings, neatly ordered notebooks and tantalizing blank pages. Surely this year will be different — every class and teacher, no matter how quirky, will be interesting.
After a certain age, optimism of any sort requires a willful disregard of reality. But for those of us who believe storytelling is humanity's greatest achievement, the muscles used to suspend disbelief are the most important ones we have.

To accept that animals talk and aliens exist, that mobsters can have kind hearts, that extraordinary medical care professionals hide drug addictions; that crimes can be solved in the nick of time; that families, no matter how dysfunctional, really do love each other, requires a strength created by both desire and repetition.
Last month, for example, Showtime's "Homeland" was raked over the coals for its extensive reliance on dramatic license. But believability is the pendulum that swings over every show. It plagues even the biggest hits, from "MASH" to "The Sopranos," from the detail-oriented "Mad Men" to that Golden Gate of suspension technology, "Lost."

Social media have turned the measure of believability in plot, tone and character continuity into a national obsession. It's fun to deconstruct any story, and at times it can be quite effective — will we ever forget "The West Wing's" Jed Bartlet's point-by-point takedown of Old Testament law?
Watching shows with the intention of tearing them apart — a process made famously popular with films on "Mystery Science Theater 3000" — is one of the reasons soap operas lasted as long as they did. Now such collective captive criticism has a new name — "hate watching" — and a new target — reality shows and, apparently, "Smash."

But hole-picking for its own sake is a perilous habit. There are few stories of any genre that are impervious, and our ability to suspend disbelief is just as important to the survival of our imaginations as the ozone layer is to the planet. Belief is also highly subjective.
For me, the turnings of plot and character on "Homeland" were no more far-fetched than those on "Downton Abbey," where the servants act more like houseguests. Or those on "Mad Men," where Peggy carried a baby to term without knowing she was pregnant. Or even those on "The Good Wife," where there was a Kalinda-in-bondage subplot.

The relationship between the storyteller and audience is always a bargain made with a wink and a nod: If you create people, places, plots and themes that move me, I will overlook the tricks you employ by doing so — the letters that tragically go astray, the bad guys who can't shoot straight, the good guys who never miss, the successful jump by Butch and Sundance into a river full of rocks.
Only when the pain of suspending my disbelief is consistently stronger than the pleasure of hearing the story will I abandon hope and lay out my laundry list of complaints.
Of all the genres, including the ever-more-popular fixation of novel series, television requires the deepest commitment between artist and audience because it seeks to create the longest relationship: 22 or more episodes on network, more than a dozen on cable, year after year.

As we approach this new spate of shows, in which there are many that will require some serious disbelief suspension — Norman Bates' troubled youth in "Bates Motel," a Poe-fixated serial killer in "The Following," whatever the "world's greatest mystery" is in "Zero Hour," suburban spies in "The Americans" — optimism is crucial, but so are realistic expectations.
There isn't a show on the air that hasn't strained credulity, not a story told that hasn't depended on some extraordinary bit of luck or fate or convenient timing. That is why we tell stories — to increase our understanding of reality through the impossible.
If a story doesn't fail now and then, it isn't trying hard enough — and if we can't forgive those failings now and then, then neither are we.

mary.mcnamara@latimes.com                   latimes.com