The Animation Options Blog

When is an $8M opening weekend good news? When you see it coming. Hopefully, the creators of “Igor” did. Producer John Eraklis commented in the October issue of Animation Magazine that: “We don’t need to generate hundred-plus million dollar returns for all the investors in the company to be happy.” That’s good, because the recent history of independent CG animated feature returns is a far cry from the lofty heights enjoyed by Pixar and Dreamworks/PDI:

I employed the good practice of culling the highest and the lowest figures (”Happy Feet” and “Fly Me To The Moon”, respectively) before determining the average, and also took the liberty of removing idiosyncratic properties based on the popular, pre-existing franchises of “Star Wars” and “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles”. What we’re left with is a fairly sobering assessment of the economic realities of independent CG feature animation. And by this token, we can see that the opening weekend for “Igor” adhered very closely to precedent ($8M vs. the $7.7M average). And this isn’t “bad” news… if you begin with the end in mind.

So, what’s the difference between popping champagne over Sunday brunch as your $8M opening weekend B.O. crawls in vs. closing the garage door and starting the car? Whether you anticipated it or not. Whether you planned for it or not. In short: whether you stand to make a profit at that rate… or not. Nevertheless, first-time filmmakers and seasoned pros alike commonly proceed with so-called “conservative” projections that are still wildly optimistic, and/or budgets that qualify as “lean” only by comparison to the wasteful excess of major studio production.

People always want to know what was spent to make a given animated feature film (you can see this question raised by a student during one of my recent lectures on film production planning). I’m going to advance the radical notion that it doesn’t matter. Nor does it matter what a movie makes. What matters is HOW MUCH YOU KEEP. Of course, how much you keep is indeed based upon what the movie cost to make vs. how much it earned, and this is where the wonderful world of film feasibility analysis come in: pragmatic film feasibility analysis (as opposed to the starry-eyed fantasy that often passes for such).

The beauty of feasibility analysis is that we don’t really need to know what the comparative films cost. We simply need to consider what the average returns are, and then plan our own costs accordingly. For example, as a producer of an independent CG animated feature film, I’m going to look at that average $62.4M global theatrical gross, round it down to a flat $60M for good measure, and then make the following napkin projection:

The general rule of thumb is that in order for a film to be considered economically feasible, the distributor gross should be at least twice the total cost of the picture - a consideration which this projection satisfies. In addition, the film’s investors stand to not only recoup their initial nut of $25M, but also to reap 100% profit, leaving the producer with $10M to cash out and/or reinvest in upcoming projects. Of course, this scenario is predicated upon obtaining feature-quality production values within the parameters of a $25M budget. Certainly not impossible, but requiring the utmost efficiency in production planning (which, lucky for you, is Animation Option’s bread and butter).

Of course, we all hope that our gorgeous, ground-breaking labor of love will be another “Happy Feet”: raking in a $40M+ opening weekend, nearly $400M worldwide, and an Oscar to boot. And here’s to that! But is this assumption the most responsible business plan? Will it satisfy your investors? Will it sustain your studio or production company? Will it keep you from spending opening weekend vomiting as the actuals roll in?

BEGIN WITH THE END IN MIND. You’ll be glad you did.

Questions about rendering are common to producers of CG content that is leveraged across multiple output media such as television, film and DVD. Let us assume for the sake of discussion that we are creating a hypothetical “backdoor pilot” of 75 minutes in length that may be released theatrically on film, broadcast on TV and ultimately end up on DVD. Let us also assume that we have settled upon an acceptable render time of 1 hour per frame, and have furthermore decided to work at a “film” frame rate of 24 frames per second.

FRAME RATE

Working at 24 fps is recommended for a number of reasons. In the first place, most animators are comfortable with it as a metric within which to work and to time movement (walk cycles, etc…). Working at 24 fps also tends to result in snappier animation than working at 30 fps (especially when “twos” are employed). While one might choose to animate at 30 fps (29.97 fps) for projects that are solely intended for video broadcast, 24 fps is generally preferred - even for projects with divergent final destinations. This is the case even when taking into account “3:2 pulldown”: the process of converting 24 fps material to 29.97 fps. While telecine conversion (which incorporates 3:2 pulldown) has been common to our industry for decades, it can result in troublesome visual artifacts – especially where lateral motion is concerned. And while there are ways to address these artifacts, that time and money is better spent elsewhere.

Simply put, the rule of thumb is: cater to your primary output medium, and adjust for the rest. For theatrical release, 24 fps is of course entirely compatible with the native frame rate of film, and also of digital projectors. Similarly for DVD, the MPEG-2 standard encodes source material at 24 frames per second. A flag is inserted within the MPEG-2 data stream that instructs conventional DVD players to perform a 3:2 pulldown in real-time (with the potential for artifacts). However, increasingly popular “progressive scan” DVD players react to this flag in a different way: creating high-quality, progressive video in real-time, with no degradation. These advantages should also translate to television as the Congressional mandate for 100% nationwide DTV broadcast takes effect on February 17, 2009.

FRAME RENDERING

There are two basic approaches to frame rendering: a global approach in which everything in the scene is rendered all at once, and a composite approach in which the scene is rendered in layers. Each approach has its pros & cons. The global approach treats the rendered scene like a live-action shoot in which everything is filmed at once, for better or worse. (Pixar has been one of the last notable adherents to this approach, but even they have turned to layered renders in recent films.) On the plus side, the global approach simplifies render organization and facilitates high-end, physically based global illumination. On the minus side, loading an entire scene into memory at once can result in a prohibitive footprint for complex environments. In addition, changes to any small part of a scene require that the entire environment be re-rendered. (In fact, the folks in Emeryville faced such prohibitively long renders on “Cars” that they ironically chose to address minor issues with digital “paint fixes” - just as one would on a live-action plate.)

The much more common layered approach distributes scenes to the renderer in layers defined by the artist and then assembled in a compositing package. While this approach requires careful organization, it also affords the ability to make targeted adjustments to specific elements without re-rendering the entire scene. Global illumination effects are either “faked” on the layers, or else are employed within specific layers (such as on Disney’s “Meet The Robinsons”, where global illumination was used in the background of certain scenes, with the characters composited atop). Either way, we should consider 1 hour of total render time per frame (on average) as a “reasonable” goal for an economical production – whether that hour is spent on one global render, or on a composite of layered renders.

RENDER FARMS

The fundamental components of a render farm are pretty simple: a collection of CPUs on a network for “cooking” the frames, a rendering application (such as RenderMan) to provide the “recipe”, a queue manager to distribute the scenes, and a network-accessible hard disk array for storing the data. As such, render farms can be created relatively cheaply from scratch, or purchased “pre-built” for a premium. But as with everything, the devil is in the details. Case in point: on “Cars”, Pixar saw their render times skyrocket to 10 hours per frame! And it turned out that the problem was not the CPUs themselves, but the NFS (“network file system”) server heads, which at only 1Gb of memory apiece were ill-equipped to handle the incredibly data-intensive scenes.

Moving to 32Gb server heads and replacing NFS with SAN (“storage area network”) - in which the devices appear to the operating system as locally attached - brought the “Cars” render times back down from 10 hours per frame to a much more reasonable 1 hour per frame. The moral of the story: not all render farms are created equal.

PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

So what does this mean to our hypothetical 75-minute backdoor pilot? At a frame rate of 24 fps, our 75-minute pilot amounts to a total of 108,000 frames. Assuming an average render time of 1 hour per frame, our project will take 108,000 hours to render: 4,500 CPU days, or a little more than 12 CPU years (the amount of time it would take one CPU to render the whole thing). At first glance, that may seem like a defeating number, but consider that 12 CPU years only takes four-and-a-half days to calculate on a 1000-CPU render farm, and a 3000-CPU render farm can render the entire project in only one-and-a-half days!

However, an animated film has never been made in which the entire project was forecast perfectly without preview and then sent off for a singular “first & final” render. Scenes are rendered and re-rendered many times in the troubleshooting of problems and in the pursuit of artistic quality. The more efficient this iteration is, the better. So truly, it is the WORKFLOW and not the hardware that makes or breaks a film.

And that is where production experience comes in.

In the previous post, “Rock On!”, we looked at a really bad cover letter from aspiring animation professional Rock N. Thamouse (pictured above). I was amused to receive a few emails taking me to task for the “exaggerated” and/or “obvious” aspects of this admittedly fictitious aggregate. How I wish that it were so!

To the cry of “exaggeration”, while I have indeed never come across a cover letter that displayed all of the trouble that poor Rock gets himself into, I have unfortunately encountered each and every one of the mistakes and missteps contained therein, many times.

Regarding how “obvious” the errors are, we’ll see. Some readers have pointed out the more notable problems, but the fact of the matter is that if these mistakes were all so “obvious”, applicants would not keep making them. Yet they do, time and time again - undermining their opportunities in the process.

Nevertheless, I should observe that the reference to Cal Arts is not an indictment of its students in particular. I simply created this example while teaching there, and have much love for my peeps in Valencia. (Full disclosure: I’ve seen the good, the bad and the ugly from other students and from other professionals - myself included. I still cringe at the thought of my cover letter to ILM in the mid-90’s, in which I looked forward to meeting with “their people”. Ugh! Got a callback though… two years later. Woo hoo.)

The cover letter - too often treated as an afterthought - is truly the welcome mat to your application, and should be treated as such. There’s no lack of opinions on the subject, so I’ll proceed to add mine. To begin with, let’s take a look at the problems with Rock’s attempt, from top to bottom.

The first thing you notice is that Rock’s cover letter is printed on 3-hole punch paper, and is off-register. Most likely, Rock ran off a photocopy and didn’t bother to check the type of paper that was loaded into the cassette. And, if he did notice the holes later on, Rock couldn’t be bothered to load the copier (or better yet, the PRINTER) with the proper paper. (Don’t laugh - this is art imitating life.) DO make the effort to print your cover letter (and all other documentation) on the highest quality paper you can afford - something that feels good in your hands - from the highest quality output device you can access.

The next issue is Rock’s graphic in the upper right corner. First of all, it’s ginormous - taking up a lot of real estate that could be put to better use. Secondly, it’s unnecessary. As an employer, I’m interested in your work - period. At best, your graphic fails to annoy me. At worst, it sits there like an ugly blotch, or even more terrible for you: it’s the best thing about your submission! For some reason, students around the world have taken to imitating Hollywood-style production graphics in a misguided attempt to look more “professional”, with logos that trumpet “Rock N. Thamouse Productions” or “Skidmark Studios”. (You’ll even see student reels with absurdly top-heavy opening credits such as: “Rock N. Thamouse Productions & Skidmark Studios presents… a Rock N. Thamouse film… written, directed & produced by Rock N. Thamouse…Copyright 2008 Rock N. Thamouse Productions, All worldwide rights reserved”. Word to the wise: stop it. Please.)

The third (and less immediately obvious) problem with this logo is that it reproduces poorly. Something that most applicants fail to consider is that their documentation may be photocopied and re-photocopied, faxed and re-faxed. Pretty soon, your lovely graphic is a nice, big ink-cartridge-wastin’ smudge on the page. If despite these warnings, you absolutely MUST include a graphic (there’s at least one of you out there), do yourself a favor and fax it to yourself on the crappiest fax machine you can find. Then, re-fax the output. If you’re happy with the degraded result, keep the graphic. If not, lose it.

Moving on to Rock’s contact information, we have to at least give him credit for providing both phone and email. The problem is that he provides two of each. Recruiters don’t want to guess which email or phone to use, so provide ONE email address for contact purposes, and make sure that it is neither inappropriate (”nippletwist.com”) nor erroneous (”calarts.ed”). Also, make sure that the email you use will not expire within the next year - especially if it is an academic account. Potential employers usually keep you on file, and you never know when one may come calling (to wit: my ILM reference above).

With respect to phone numbers, the ideal is to provide ONE number - preferrably your mobile. However, if you don’t have a cell phone, it’s ok to provide more than one number if they are clearly differentiated (ie. “H” for home and “W” for work), and you can answer each at any given time without embarrassment. Home numbers are fine as long as you can keep background noise to a minimum, and aren’t saddled with flaky roommates who screw the pooch in some way (answering rudely or forgetting to tell you that Pixar called). Work numbers are generally ill-advised, unless you are SURE that you can answer at any time, and you are SURE that you can speak freely without the line being monitored. And for God’s sake, DON’T list your current employer’s front desk receptionist as your work number! (Again you laugh, but…)

Adding a return mailing address is always a good idea. Your potential employer will need this information eventually, so why not provide it right up front? If your submission has the desired effect, you’ll be receiving paperwork soon enough.

Now let’s look at Rock’s salutation: “To who it may concern,” Aside from the grammatical error, the biggest problem with this opening line is that Rock has not addressed his submission to anyone in particular. This is the quickest way to end up at the bottom of the pile or in the “round file” - not because people are insulted at being addressed anonymously, but because of the utter lack of initiative that it demonstrates on the applicant’s part. If you don’t know who to address your submission to, FIND OUT. A simple phone call to the main desk of the studio in question works wonders: “Hi, this is Rock N. Thamouse. Could you please provide me with the name, title and contact information of your artistic recruiter? Thank you very much.” Done.

Within the body of the cover letter, there are a number fun things going on, many of which were correctly observed by Gerard de Souza in the “Comments” section of the previous post. Spelling mistakes abound, as do text-message-style abbreviations (”How R U?”) Once again, these are not far-fetched. They happen. And while I’m certainly open-minded enough to engage in an intellectual conversation on how text messaging may economically evolve our written language, the fact of the matter is that such shortcuts and informalities are entirely out of place in business correspondence - irrespective of whether it is printed or emailed. The insidious thing is that email and texting have become so pervasive, that even relatively “old-fashioned” abbreviations like “FYI” and “BTW” appear to have become acceptable. They aren’t. If you’re already taking shortcuts while applying for the job, what can I hope to expect once you’re on the clock?

Spelling errors are best addressed with 4-step coverage: 1) run spell check 2) read the result through on screen 3) print the letter out and read it on paper 4) have a friend read it. Sound excessive? It’s not. (In fact, I probably have an uncaught spelling error in this post.)

Other formal problems in Rock’s cover include hand-corrected errors (you’d be amazed at how many people attempt to white out and ink in corrections instead of just printing a new letter) and the lack of a proper signature. A hand-written signature is always a good finish, especially when it’s elegant and/or strong. Your signature is like your handshake: it doesn’t make or break the deal, but it speaks volumes of you as a person.

Ok… enough about form, let’s get to content. Rock starts out by painting a rather uncertain graduation picture. Not only does this reflect poorly upon his studiousness, but it fails to provide the potential employer with a clear idea of when Rock will be available for work.

Confidence is great, but our friend Rock appears to be soaking in it. Your prospective employer will be the one to decide how great your work is, and whether or not you are right for them, so there’s no need to offer your own assessment on this front. Likewise, the unqualified opinions of others matter very little, although qualified letters of recommendation and references can be helpful (as long as you’re sure you won’t be undermined or downright sabotaged by that person whose good word you are counting on… you’d be surprised).

Rock fails to provide his demo reel, although he is kind enough to mention that it is coming later. If the demo reel has been uploaded to the company (an increasingly common requirement), he should say so - and should still include an auto-play DVD reel (with no menus) AND a VHS copy (for employers rocking it old school). This convenience never hurts, unless the application guidelines specifically discourage physical reels. When multiple formats are provided, the content should be identical. (I stopped saying “It goes without saying.” years ago.)

Rock proceeds to make vague, sweeping reference to his software proficiencies, and admits to software piracy (which puts him in league with 90% of computer users, including perhaps his future employers, but still - not cool in a cover letter). He closes this paragraph with a bit of hubris about visiting professionals who apparently “stole” his ideas. No doubt Rock has indeed noticed similarities between his techniques and those employed by major studios. (In this day and age of technical disclosure at conferences, on DVDs, in magazines and over the internet, how could he not?) If so, Rock should be pleased that he is on the right track, and feel free to mention the congruency, but in a more modest way. The personal aside that Rock makes to his “lady” is also a little more information than we need in a hiring situation.

In the next paragraph, Rock commits the cardinal sin of applying for a position that he doesn’t really want, with the intention of using it as a toehold for the position he really does want. There’s nothing wrong with being clear on what you would like to do (in fact, it’s highly encouraged), and there’s nothing wrong with pursuing career aspirations and learning new things, but there’s nothing good about an employee who agrees to a position they could care less about with the intention of angling for something “better”. I’ve witnessed this firsthand, and it’s a recipe for diz-ass-ter.

Insulting your potential employer is never a good tactic, but nobody appears to have informed Rock of this principle, as he charitably offers to raise the quality of the studio to which he is applying. Believe it or not, the line: “Based on your last movie, I could definitely help raise your game.” is copied word-for-word from an actual applicant’s cover letter. That applicant ended up “raising” someone else’s game, not for the moronic comment (true professionals are not that petty) but for the lame reel that accompanied it.

Next, Rock gives a conflicting assessment of his drawing abilities, and after a poor attempt to spin his deteriorating draftsmanship, makes broad assumptions about his future employer’s willingness to train him. Many studios do indeed have training programs, but these are intended to burnish existing talent to a high shine - not to polish turds.

Forging ahead (you sorta have to admire the guy at this point), Rock dictates his terms: he’s a late sleeper, so he requires flex time, and his future boss needs to earn his respect. While managers, leads and supervisors do indeed reap the best results from employees who respect the person instead of fearing the title, it’s not Rock’s place to advance this as a prerequisite for his productivity. Furthermore, it’s NEVER a smart idea to badmouth your colleagues. As beaten to death as it is, the old saying holds true: “If you can’t say something good about a person, don’t say anything at all.” (I’m going to be struck by lightning at any moment.)

Finally, Rock sets the conditions for future correspondence and meetings at his convenience, not the employer’s, and doesn’t seem to really care if things go further or not. The sad thing is that Rock probably does care - he’s just never been shown the proper way to approach this. Had Rock attended my “Industry Survival Tips” seminar, he would have been exposed to the following key points on cover letters:

DO…

• …get a copy of the job description that you’re applying for, and study it.
• …briefly address the strongest parallels between the required skills and your own abilities.
• …use proper formatting in your header, body and closing - whether you are printing the letter or emailing it. (And when emailing, include your name, the position and any job listing ID in the “Subject” line.)
• …address the recruiter by their full name and position.
• …introduce yourself properly.
• …SELL yourself, focusing on the company’s needs - not your own.
• …give ‘em a little sugar (but only a little).
• …include clear and complete follow-up information

DON’T…

• …exceed a single page.
• …send a form letter (or send the wrong letter to the wrong company by accident - sad, but true… and really funny).
• …get cute with the format (odd paper choices, overly designed layouts & logos, etc…).
• …ramble on. (Here comes that lightning again!)
• …brag, exaggerate or lie.
• … be arrogant or kiss ass. (Ka-BOOM!!!)
• …be too casual. (”How R U?”)
• …explain what you want: (Newsflash: nobody cares! How do you satisfy what they need?)
• …share too much about yourself. (”My interests include cooking, surfing, dancing and dreaming.”)
• …overlook spelling or grammatical errors.
• …forget to sign it.

So with these points in mind, here is Rock’s revised cover letter.

If you want to have your own materials reviewed by an industry pro with major studio supervisory and recruiting experience, drop me a line at kevingeiger@animationoptions.com

For a flat fee of $100 USD ($60 USD for students) I’ll review and make recommendations on your cover letter, resume, shot list, reel and associated materials. How often can you get candid feedback from anyone these days - let alone the very stripe of person to whom you are applying - without using up an opportunity in the process?

Exercise your options.

Kevin Geiger

Every semester at Cal Arts, no matter what subject I happened to be teaching, we would reserve an evening for my “Industry Survival Tips” seminar, covering things you typically learn “the hard way” - things you wish they taught you in school. It quickly became the most popular night of the year.

This fictitious (but not unheard of) example of a really bad cover letter became a small hit of sorts (no offense to Cal Arts students or TDs named “Rock”).

See how many problems you can find, and we’ll review in the next day or two.

I came across this clip from a Q & A session following my presentation on Disney’s “Chicken Little” at the 2005 International Forum for Digital Media Art in Taipei, in which I respond to an audience member’s question on the significance of vocal performances.

Although brief, it underscores the importance of the animator’s presence at recording sessions.

Last but not least, here is excerpt #4 from my informal presentation on independent film business planning, delivered at the Griffith University Film School in Brisbane.

This clip includes partial coverage my take on the fundamentals of distribution pitches (teaser, comparative analysis, etc…) and the ins and outs of distributor feedback.

Once again, the document that I refer to in this presentation is the Animation Options “Independent Animated Feature Film Development & Production Plan”, which is freely available on the AO “Resources” page.

Cheers! ~KG

Here is excerpt #3 from my presentation on independent film business planning at Griffith University in Brisbane.

In this clip I touch upon test screenings and the greenlight process.

Excerpt #2 from my presentation on indie film business planning at Griffith University in Brisbane.

In this segment, I riff on development funding & business plans, development teams & advisory team and investor presentations.

BTW, the document that I refer to in this presentation is the Animation Options “Independent Animated Feature Film Development & Production Plan”, which is freely available on the AO “Resources” page.

The AO Channel on YouTube now features excerpt #1 from my informal presentation on independent film business planning, delivered at the Griffith University Film School in Brisbane this past May, at the behest of my friend and colleague Craig Caldwell.

As you can see, the kangaroo burger I had for lunch was not doing me any favors.

In yesterday’s Yahoo! Finance section, Anne Altman concluded her article “Tips From A Bitter Temp” with a passage that could have been written by any animator or TD:

Settle in. Master the language. Sip the Kool-Aid. But remember: you could be out on a moment’s notice. I was once denied a dollar-an-hour raise. At first I was insulted. But the next week two execs were canned with no notice, led down the hall like criminals, and spirited out with a “We’ll mail you the contents of your desk.” Young guys right out of college were speechless. Me? I poured myself a bowl of Corn Pops and sat back down in my Aeron chair.

There was a period of time during the 90’s when animation was booming, major studios were warring for talent, and each round of year-end bonuses turned parking lots into “new car dealerships”, with SUVs and BMWs sprouting up like daisies. The salad days, we called them. At the time, it seemed conceivable (particularly to the young ‘uns) that you could spend the majority of your career at a single studio, doing rewarding work with an ever-increasing standard of living, just like our grandparents planned to do with General Motors. Sounds quaint in retrospect, doesn’t it?

Well, the salad days are clearly over, yet many employees still find themselves caught like deer in the headlights when they are suddenly handed those cardboard boxes - especially those who labor under the pretense that they are working for a “family”. Sure, buying into the “family” line gives you a big warm fuzzy during the good times, but it’s all the more devastating when you are abruptly shown the door. Where the studio “family” is concerned, you’re better off regarding yourself as a foster child rather than a blood relative. Or else remembering that it’s the Corleone family.

Even more shocking to many so-called “staff” is when they find themselves caught in the undertow of exiting “project hires”. I spoke to one such individual recently who was stunned to receive his exit packet along with the “temporary” employees. He thought he was “staff”, but learned the hard way that in an “at-will” world, we’re ALL temp. When push comes to shove, you will be pushed and shoved.

Which isn’t to say that you can’t remain gainfully employed (whether at one studio or a series of them), make a good living and create a satisfying career for yourself. Just don’t get lulled into the “security” of the Velvet Coffin (as one Burbank studio has been wryly referred to). As long as you’re mindful of the words of Charles De Gaulle, that “The graveyards are full of indispensible men,” you’ll at least see it coming.

In the meantime, have a bowl of Corn Pops and get back to work!