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What does it take for a community - let's say, for the sake of argument, the Tampa Bay area - to create a niche in the ever-expanding film industry?
For starters, it's wise to determine exactly what kind of niche that would be.
Are we satisfied with a feature film production such as The Punisher visiting for a few weeks, pumping a couple million dollars into the economy, providing a few celebrity sightings? Or do we want to perpetually be on the short list of places where major studios do business?
Does it have to be a high-profile endeavor to satisfy us? Or can we support, with the same interest, smaller, independent productions that may not make it past the film-festival circuit? If that doesn't thrill you, then the notion of becoming a haven for commercials, instructional videos and other comparably minor productions probably doesn't, either.
Let's assume that we want it all, just like many of the Tampa Bay area business owners, artists, politicians and general movers and shakers who attended the inaugural Creative Cities Summit last week in St. Petersburg. The three-day event, sponsored by the grass roots organization Creative Tampa Bay (www.creativetampabay.com) was designed to bring together folks who seldom cross paths, yet have various stakes in the same enterprise.
Film and video productions weren't the only topic. Panel discussions included downtown redevelopment, the financing of creative endeavors and the effects of architectural design on creativity. The thread connecting each session was the impact of artistic expression - design, music, visual arts, etc. - on the success of businesses and communities.
And in a message that some proudly starving artists may not appreciate, another was how playing the business game can improve chances of creating and having those works presented to the public.
There weren't any concrete answers, only experiences relayed from mayors who saw portions of their cities revived, patrons who discovered new means of financing art events and white-collar types liking the bottom line in supporting creative projects.
The session that interested me was last Friday's luncheon, where the stories of two burgeoning film communities were told. Austin, Texas, and the state of Louisiana used to be further outside the Hollywood loop than Florida. Now they're on that short list of production sites where the Tampa Bay area aspires to be.
They did it in very different ways that, for various reasons, the Tampa Bay area can't copy, at least not now. Austin's growth was ignited when two of its favorite sons, directors Richard Linklater (Slacker, Dazed and Confused, Before Sunrise) and Robert Rodriguez (El Mariachi, Desperado) became household names. They earned enough clout to insist that studios finance their films in Austin, home of the University of Texas and its notable film school. A core of talent grew before city officials made a bold show of support for the local film industry.
When the local airport was relocated in 2000, 20 acres with five abandoned airplane hangars were offered to the nonprofit Austin Film Studios (founded by Linklater in 1985) for the ridiculously low rent of $100 per year. The hangars were converted to sound stages, including lots of on-site amenities for rent such as cranes, editing equipment and a screening room. The place leaked a bit and still isn't soundproofed to Hollywood standards. But it has housed 50 productions, including 17 feature films, while funneling $360-million into Austin's economy.
"I think a lot of communities think they have to build a $28-million state-of-the-art complex," said Suzanne Quinn, director of Austin Film Studios. "We were just taking what we already had - warehouses, offices, parking areas - and just brought it into one location.
"We weren't trying anything fancy, just providing the minimum of what (studios) needed, making it a little more convenient, and it really caught on."
Convenience is an important factor in a studio's decision to shoot on location. Saving studios money on production costs, however, is how Louisiana made itself a favored spot, with $200-million in production expected this year. Much of the work is done in New Orleans, although Baton Rouge and bayou country get their share of productions.
Disney and DreamWorks are filming separate features in New Orleans now, along with a CBS movie for television and a Fox series pilot. A remake of All the King's Men starring Sean Penn is in preproduction. New Orleans doubled for Milwaukee for Bernie Mac's comedy Mr. 3000, and the upcoming Ray Charles biography, Ray, and A Love Song for Bobby Long, starring John Travolta, kept the city the Big Easy.
Aside from its colorful locations, Louisiana puts money back into studio pockets. The state offers a 20 percent payroll tax credit for each Louisiana resident a production employs, plus an exclusion from state taxes on production expenditures. Louisiana residents who invest in film-related projects are also eligible for tax credits.
Producer Jerry Bruckheimer (Pirates of the Caribbean, Bad Boys) recently told the Hollywood Reporter that his current production, the basketball drama Glory Road, saved $4-million by filming in New Orleans. The tax incentives, he said, were "the only reason we're there."
Louisiana's advantage is charging a state income tax to support those tax breaks. Florida politicians aren't likely to encourage a state income tax soon. The state sets aside $2.5-million annually for entertainment incentives, and a single Miami production, The Transporter 2, has gobbled up $2-million of that. Lobbyists are expected to support an increase in the fund to $20-million, but that doesn't match Louisiana's system.
However, how Louisiana was persuaded to offer those tax breaks could inspire Florida's citizens. Ten years ago, the state was ready to disband its then-meager efforts to attract film production. A revolving door of film commissioners couldn't make it work, and attorney Mark Smith became an adviser to the tourism-based agency, filling in between commissioners.
Smith, another panelist at the Creative Cities Summit, persuaded the governor's office to take over the film commission (www.lafilm.org) as an economic agency and became its director. Then he identified a way for the film industry to carry its weight in Louisiana, one that made his tax-break ideas easier for politicians to accept.
Smith recognized the state's low literacy rate and a population built on hard work and crafts, not technical arts such as filmmaking. But filmmakers need those carpenters, electricians and laborers. Training programs were initiated to groom crew workers, so the tax breaks could be considered a kind of social and economic investment.
It worked. Welfare rolls declined as studios came calling, hiring local personnel for the tax breaks. The tourism factor that was initially intended increased as audiences saw Louisiana in films such as Runaway Jury, Dead Man Walking and Double Jeopardy. Politics is an art, but Smith found a way to make art work for political means.
It's enough to make one wonder if a similar approach, even on a smaller scale without an income tax supporting it, could succeed in Florida.
Quinn and Smith didn't provide answers to the Tampa Bay area's future in the film industry, but they did leave the audience with simple advice: Figure out your community's strengths and weaknesses, and what you expect your niche to be.
For pessimists, that may dash a few dreams of rubbing elbows with movie stars at International Plaza, or even make the pursuit of film production seem not worth the effort. But it could also drive us to imaginative tactics, as Austin and Louisiana were.
We don't have a Linklater or Rodriguez to carry our flag through Hollywood. But we have improving college and university film programs, not to mention an offbeat cultural scene that may someday inspire one. We don't have an income tax. But somebody out there knows crafty lawyers, lobbyists and business leaders who can find an angle to make film production more than just another tourism draw.
Let's face it: The folks who made The Punisher here were satisfied with free parking meters, easy building access and no-hassle permits. A few scribbles on the script and the movie could have been set anywhere. Places such as Austin and Louisiana that are saving money for studios are making it tougher to get by purely on hospitality.
-- Steve Persall can be reached at 727 893-8365 or Persall@sptimes.com