Tripod Columns: Cutting-Edge Careers

WORK & MONEY

cutting edge careers

LIGHTS, CAMERA...
ROCK 'N' ROLL
by Michael Kaplan

Published November 11, 1996

During his sophomore year at New York University, Brett Ratner made the acquaintance of rap music impresario Russell Simmons. Born out of shared interests, the friendship between the burgeoning filmmaker (Ratner offered advice on videos for Def Jam artists) and the urban music mogul (Simmons introduced Ratner to his heroes Run DMC and LL Cool J) blossomed. In 1990, Simmons invited Ratner to join him on a trip down to Florida for the inauguration of Public Enemy's U.S. tour.
Backstage at the arena, P.E. leader Chuck D. and Simmons began discussing the group's impending MTV assault, while Ratner listened in. That was when D. announced, "I want Brett to shoot our next video."
"Brett who?" Simmons asked, flipping through his mental Rolodex of established videomakers. "White Brett, little Brett over here," said D., pointing to the college student who had loads of sensibility but no more experience than a pseudo-documentary short called "Whatever Happened To Mason Reese?"
Simultaneously shocked and pleased to see his young pal/protégé being recognized, Simmons agreed that the idea sounded phat. Ratner spent the next two weeks traveling with Public Enemy, filming its concerts, and editing together the music video for "Louder Than A Bomb." The resulting clip aired on MTV, garnered acclaim, and suddenly Ratner was on fire. At the speed of light he went from college kid with attitude to in-demand visionary. Though Ratner acknowledges that this transformation was the music industry equivalent of sliding his foot into the glass slipper, he also makes clear that the story has a happy ending only because he delivered the goods while the pressure was on. "If I hadn't been successful with the Public Enemy project, then my career would have been over," insists 25-year-old Ratner. Precisely the opposite was the reality: Ratner now runs a 10-person operation that grosses 10 million dollars annually. "My video got on MTV and suddenly everybody wanted to work with me. Do one good video and you get offers for 10 more."

Opportunities in video directing arise more often than one might imagine. Nonexistent before the 1980s, directing music videos has evolved into one of those dream occupations for every talented kid with big ideas and a good eye. It's replaced rock 'n' roll journalism as the ideal livelihood for anyone who's creative, risk-oriented, and mad about music (but who can't possibly play an instrument). Directing videos gets you close to the bands, affords a cool freelance lifestyle (you work around the clock, but it's your clock), and allows for personal expression without a dress code. It's relatively open to young people with revolutionary tastes (albeit, usually only after they've paid dues with on-set internships and stints as production assistants), and has evolved into an expeditious path to Hollywood. Feature film directors who've cut their teeth on music videos include David Fincher ("Seven"), David Hogan ("Barb Wire"), and The Hughes Brothers ("Dead Presidents"). Ratner himself is beginning production on his big-screen debut, an urban comedy entitled "How To Be A Player."
According to director Jake Scott, who is currently attempting to negotiate the leap from music videos to feature films, his reel of alternative rockers was sufficiently impressive that it opened the door for an exploratory sit-down with Steven Speilberg. "Videos are really the interesting, experimental medium right now," says Scott, who's put his imprint on pieces for Soundgarden, REM, Oasis, and Spacehog. "High-end videos are always conceptual, and they have a lot of storytelling going on. In the 1960s and '70s (when Jake's father, Blade Runner's Ridley Scott, made his first feature film after establishing himself as a 60-second man) commercials were all about storytelling. Now it's videos."

You must be willing to work hard under arduous conditions. The big question, of course, is this: How does somebody with no professional experience, a freshly minted college degree, and a dearth of connections get a piece of that action? The good news is that opportunities in video directing arise more often than one might imagine, since the medium's star practitioners leave gaps every time they step up to feature films and big-budget commercials. Hence, there are possibilities for graduates with more talent than experience -- particularly if they are willing to work hard under arduous conditions for little-known bands.
How arduous can the conditions get? Jake Scott, who's got a track record and a production team, says a recent shoot he did with The Cranberries was disastrous. "It was the coldest day of the year," Scott remembers. "I had only a few hours with the group and the camera [mechanisms] kept freezing up."
Frank W. Ockenfels, a well-established still photographer of rock 'n' roll groups who is making the transition into video directing, remembers one of his earliest undertakings. It was a low-budget affair, set in New Orleans, for Better Than Ezra. Their first shoot day was greeted by massive rainstorms; the Big Easy's streets flooded and the set closed down. "Those rains were so bad that a body washed up," remembers Ockenfels. "Water was coming through the walls of my room and we had to keep the equipment on a bed so that it wouldn't get ruined. We shot the whole next day without most of the crew members because they had been up all night trying to save their homes."

You'll need to shoot a sample film or video as a calling-card. Just about everybody interviewed for this article advises that the best way to get into the video pool is to take the plunge fearlessly, resolved to face the muck while courting the glory. Before anyone will finance that leap of faith, though, you'll need to shoot a sample film or video as a combination audition/calling card. "Nowadays reels are everything," insists Valerie Faris, who has collaborated with her partner, Jonathan Dayton, on videos for The Ramones, Smashing Pumpkins, and Porno For Pyros. "So it helps to get out there and make work, whatever it is. Even if it's a short film. Then circulate it as an example of what you will bring to the video. Video commissioners at record companies are always looking for new people, and if they see something great they will use you."
This ray of hope, however, is trailed by a cloud of bad news from Faris: "Video commissioners are not very accessible at all. That's part of the challenge, though, getting them to look at your work." Dayton advises hooking up with a local band (preferably one that's hot on the club scene and about to be signed to a major label), and then making them an offer so good that they won't be able to turn down your services. The hope is that you'll shoot a great video, they'll make a great record, and you will ride the same vehicle to fame and fortune. "It's possible," Faris agrees with restrained enthusiasm. "I had never seen any of [video director] Mark Kohl's work before Green Day. He probably was friends with them. Nevertheless, it's not so easy to become friends with a band that will really take off." But easy, she warns, is "not the reason to get into directing videos."
The reason for doing it is the best reason for doing everything: passion. Hopefully, you have a passionate drive for applying images to music. "Pursue what you love and it will all fall into place," advises a Zen-like Ratner, who began his pursuit shooting super-eight backyard blaxploitation shorts while most of his friends were trying out for Little League. "I always knew I was going to do this, I just didn't know how it would happen. And that's the main problem with studying film in college: The one thing they don't teach you is how to get a job."
Unfortunately, it's the one thing that nobody can teach you, as everybody goes about it in a personalized way. Faris and Dayton suggest lobbying production companies such as Propaganda and Satellite Films. If their reps like your work, they may throw you a job that's too small for the seasoned pros on their rosters (directors typically earn 10 percent of a video's budget, which currently averages about 75 thousand dollars). Ockenfels is doing it by having already established himself in a different medium, though he comes up against daunting competition for the most lucrative directing jobs. But he finds videomaking too alluring to ignore. "A video is your vision, you see it through from concept to edit, and everybody knows it's yours," says Ockenfels. "It extends the range of your eye and forces you to really put yourself out there. Videos show so much more of your visual sense [than still photos do]."

Ratner got "29 of the nicest rejection letters you've ever seen." A scattershot barrage of letters to your favorite moguls is what Brett Ratner recommends for breaking in. While still an unknown student, he sent his Mason Reese video to 30 big-shot producers and received "29 of the nicest rejection letters you've ever seen." The 30th letter came from Steven Speilberg, whose company wound up giving Ratner a small grant so that he could complete his student film. "Don't be afraid of presenting yourself to people at the tippy top," advises Ratner who's been blessed with nervy confidence. "Somebody like Spike Lee is egoed out, while Steven Speilberg is more willing to help young people who are coming up."
Barely older than the college juniors who come to him for internships and advice, Ratner has found himself a lightning rod for students who see the world in jazzy, rhythmic bursts of action. "Young kids who want to be directors, they stand by my side and watch what I do," he says, sounding cocky as hell but still a bit amazed. "But my only secret is hard work, dedication, and a love for what I do." What sort of advice does he impart to his young admirers? "It doesn't matter who you are or where you're from -- I came into this without knowing anybody. You have to go for it and not give up. In this business you can't be afraid to fail. You have to remember that no matter what happens, your mother will still love you and your friends will still be your friends." Ratner hesitates for a beat, seems to reconsider, then turns Hollywood on us with a single word: "Hopefully."

Ever wonder what a day in the life of a video director is like? Check out this sidebar, in which the very hot N'Gai "Zodiac" Poindexter breaks it down for you.

Michael Kaplan's work has appeared in such publications as "New York," "Movieline," "Swing," and Tripod's "Tools for Life" magazine.
© 1996 Tripod, Inc. All Rights Reserved

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WORK & MONEY LIGHTS, CAMERA... ROCK 'N' ROLL by Michael Kaplan Published November 11, 1996	During his sophomore year at New York University, Brett Ratner made the acquaintance of rap music impresario Russell Simmons. Born out of shared interests, the friendship between the burgeoning filmmaker (Ratner offered advice on videos for Def Jam artists) and the urban music mogul (Simmons introduced Ratner to his heroes Run DMC and LL Cool J) blossomed. In 1990, Simmons invited Ratner to join him on a trip down to Florida for the inauguration of Public Enemy's U.S. tour. Backstage at the arena, P.E. leader Chuck D. and Simmons began discussing the group's impending MTV assault, while Ratner listened in. That was when D. announced, "I want Brett to shoot our next video." "Brett who?" Simmons asked, flipping through his mental Rolodex of established videomakers. "White Brett, little Brett over here," said D., pointing to the college student who had loads of sensibility but no more experience than a pseudo-documentary short called "Whatever Happened To Mason Reese?" Simultaneously shocked and pleased to see his young pal/protégé being recognized, Simmons agreed that the idea sounded phat. Ratner spent the next two weeks traveling with Public Enemy, filming its concerts, and editing together the music video for "Louder Than A Bomb." The resulting clip aired on MTV, garnered acclaim, and suddenly Ratner was on fire. At the speed of light he went from college kid with attitude to in-demand visionary. Though Ratner acknowledges that this transformation was the music industry equivalent of sliding his foot into the glass slipper, he also makes clear that the story has a happy ending only because he delivered the goods while the pressure was on. "If I hadn't been successful with the Public Enemy project, then my career would have been over," insists 25-year-old Ratner. Precisely the opposite was the reality: Ratner now runs a 10-person operation that grosses 10 million dollars annually. "My video got on MTV and suddenly everybody wanted to work with me. Do one good video and you get offers for 10 more."
Opportunities in video directing arise more often than one might imagine.	Nonexistent before the 1980s, directing music videos has evolved into one of those dream occupations for every talented kid with big ideas and a good eye. It's replaced rock 'n' roll journalism as the ideal livelihood for anyone who's creative, risk-oriented, and mad about music (but who can't possibly play an instrument). Directing videos gets you close to the bands, affords a cool freelance lifestyle (you work around the clock, but it's your clock), and allows for personal expression without a dress code. It's relatively open to young people with revolutionary tastes (albeit, usually only after they've paid dues with on-set internships and stints as production assistants), and has evolved into an expeditious path to Hollywood. Feature film directors who've cut their teeth on music videos include David Fincher ("Seven"), David Hogan ("Barb Wire"), and The Hughes Brothers ("Dead Presidents"). Ratner himself is beginning production on his big-screen debut, an urban comedy entitled "How To Be A Player." According to director Jake Scott, who is currently attempting to negotiate the leap from music videos to feature films, his reel of alternative rockers was sufficiently impressive that it opened the door for an exploratory sit-down with Steven Speilberg. "Videos are really the interesting, experimental medium right now," says Scott, who's put his imprint on pieces for Soundgarden, REM, Oasis, and Spacehog. "High-end videos are always conceptual, and they have a lot of storytelling going on. In the 1960s and '70s (when Jake's father, Blade Runner's Ridley Scott, made his first feature film after establishing himself as a 60-second man) commercials were all about storytelling. Now it's videos."
You must be willing to work hard under arduous conditions.	The big question, of course, is this: How does somebody with no professional experience, a freshly minted college degree, and a dearth of connections get a piece of that action? The good news is that opportunities in video directing arise more often than one might imagine, since the medium's star practitioners leave gaps every time they step up to feature films and big-budget commercials. Hence, there are possibilities for graduates with more talent than experience -- particularly if they are willing to work hard under arduous conditions for little-known bands. How arduous can the conditions get? Jake Scott, who's got a track record and a production team, says a recent shoot he did with The Cranberries was disastrous. "It was the coldest day of the year," Scott remembers. "I had only a few hours with the group and the camera [mechanisms] kept freezing up." Frank W. Ockenfels, a well-established still photographer of rock 'n' roll groups who is making the transition into video directing, remembers one of his earliest undertakings. It was a low-budget affair, set in New Orleans, for Better Than Ezra. Their first shoot day was greeted by massive rainstorms; the Big Easy's streets flooded and the set closed down. "Those rains were so bad that a body washed up," remembers Ockenfels. "Water was coming through the walls of my room and we had to keep the equipment on a bed so that it wouldn't get ruined. We shot the whole next day without most of the crew members because they had been up all night trying to save their homes."
You'll need to shoot a sample film or video as a calling-card.	Just about everybody interviewed for this article advises that the best way to get into the video pool is to take the plunge fearlessly, resolved to face the muck while courting the glory. Before anyone will finance that leap of faith, though, you'll need to shoot a sample film or video as a combination audition/calling card. "Nowadays reels are everything," insists Valerie Faris, who has collaborated with her partner, Jonathan Dayton, on videos for The Ramones, Smashing Pumpkins, and Porno For Pyros. "So it helps to get out there and make work, whatever it is. Even if it's a short film. Then circulate it as an example of what you will bring to the video. Video commissioners at record companies are always looking for new people, and if they see something great they will use you." This ray of hope, however, is trailed by a cloud of bad news from Faris: "Video commissioners are not very accessible at all. That's part of the challenge, though, getting them to look at your work." Dayton advises hooking up with a local band (preferably one that's hot on the club scene and about to be signed to a major label), and then making them an offer so good that they won't be able to turn down your services. The hope is that you'll shoot a great video, they'll make a great record, and you will ride the same vehicle to fame and fortune. "It's possible," Faris agrees with restrained enthusiasm. "I had never seen any of [video director] Mark Kohl's work before Green Day. He probably was friends with them. Nevertheless, it's not so easy to become friends with a band that will really take off." But easy, she warns, is "not the reason to get into directing videos." The reason for doing it is the best reason for doing everything: passion. Hopefully, you have a passionate drive for applying images to music. "Pursue what you love and it will all fall into place," advises a Zen-like Ratner, who began his pursuit shooting super-eight backyard blaxploitation shorts while most of his friends were trying out for Little League. "I always knew I was going to do this, I just didn't know how it would happen. And that's the main problem with studying film in college: The one thing they don't teach you is how to get a job." Unfortunately, it's the one thing that nobody can teach you, as everybody goes about it in a personalized way. Faris and Dayton suggest lobbying production companies such as Propaganda and Satellite Films. If their reps like your work, they may throw you a job that's too small for the seasoned pros on their rosters (directors typically earn 10 percent of a video's budget, which currently averages about 75 thousand dollars). Ockenfels is doing it by having already established himself in a different medium, though he comes up against daunting competition for the most lucrative directing jobs. But he finds videomaking too alluring to ignore. "A video is your vision, you see it through from concept to edit, and everybody knows it's yours," says Ockenfels. "It extends the range of your eye and forces you to really put yourself out there. Videos show so much more of your visual sense [than still photos do]."
Ratner got "29 of the nicest rejection letters you've ever seen."	A scattershot barrage of letters to your favorite moguls is what Brett Ratner recommends for breaking in. While still an unknown student, he sent his Mason Reese video to 30 big-shot producers and received "29 of the nicest rejection letters you've ever seen." The 30th letter came from Steven Speilberg, whose company wound up giving Ratner a small grant so that he could complete his student film. "Don't be afraid of presenting yourself to people at the tippy top," advises Ratner who's been blessed with nervy confidence. "Somebody like Spike Lee is egoed out, while Steven Speilberg is more willing to help young people who are coming up." Barely older than the college juniors who come to him for internships and advice, Ratner has found himself a lightning rod for students who see the world in jazzy, rhythmic bursts of action. "Young kids who want to be directors, they stand by my side and watch what I do," he says, sounding cocky as hell but still a bit amazed. "But my only secret is hard work, dedication, and a love for what I do." What sort of advice does he impart to his young admirers? "It doesn't matter who you are or where you're from -- I came into this without knowing anybody. You have to go for it and not give up. In this business you can't be afraid to fail. You have to remember that no matter what happens, your mother will still love you and your friends will still be your friends." Ratner hesitates for a beat, seems to reconsider, then turns Hollywood on us with a single word: "Hopefully." Ever wonder what a day in the life of a video director is like? Check out this sidebar, in which the very hot N'Gai "Zodiac" Poindexter breaks it down for you. Michael Kaplan's work has appeared in such publications as "New York," "Movieline," "Swing," and Tripod's "Tools for Life" magazine. © 1996 Tripod, Inc. All Rights Reserved