Wow, that Anthony Zuiker (creator of CSI) is a true innovator.
(For those who prefer not to click, it links to a news story about how Zuiker wants to get back the 8 million viewers he thinks he's lost to the web by introducing "cross blending storytelling", which means "launching a narrative from television to the Web to mobile to gaming and back to television." What a novel idea.)
Seriously, though, if CSI is doing it, then it must have finally make the mainstream. Which is about time.
Only it's called "cross-media," Anthony. Cross blending is for satanic bartenders.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Why Cross-Media Efforts Often Fail #1: The Producer Lie
This is the first in what will probably be a series of "Why Cross-Media Efforts Often Fail" posts. I've been involved with enough projects that I've seen the good and the bad, so it's pretty easy to see the patterns of what can make or break it.
I've had the opportunity to work with a lot of TV producers developing new media components for their television shows, and at the beginning they all say the same thing: "We're really excited about your ideas for extending [name of show] online, and we're going to dedicate all the necessary resources to making it happen."
When you're putting together the proposals and getting the funding, they're there. They do their bit
And then you get the money, and one of three things happen:
1. They dedicate all the resources they can toward stealing the new media funding to help finance their TV show. Fortunately doesn't happen a lot, but when it does it's a really bad scene. Usually this happens because they're bad producers: they can't budget, or they can't stick to their budget, or they just lie a lot. Funny thing about bad producers, usually they're really good liars.
Actually, I suspect this might be a more common problem than I think, because after a few years the Bell Broadcast and New Media Fund -- which gives grants to new media productions in association with TV shows -- started offering top-up money to the actual TV production as well. I suppose this was meant to compensate them for the extra effort involved on their part, although a more cynical person than I might suggest that maybe it was just a bribe to get them to justify the Fund's existence.
2. They actually do dedicate the necessary resources to making it all work. Unfortunately this doesn't happen all that often either, but when it does you get amazing results. The epitome of this kind of producer is, well, Epitome Pictures. Creating the original Degrassi: The Next Generation community site with them was a new media producer's dream.
3. They completely forget about you. This is what usually happens, and that's why "we're going to do what it takes to make this work" is the Big Lie.
I understand why it happens -- they're TV producers, and they've got their hands full and resources already strained to the breaking point just to get the show in the can -- but it's disappointing. It's like going out on a few really good dates and thinking this relationship might be going somewhere, and then suddenly never hearing from the person again.
In order for a cross-media property to work, the producers from angles have to work together. There has to be communication between them and a recognition that all aspects of the production are important. Maybe not equally important, but still.
Depending on the creative, new media producers often need things like access to the TV set, or its crew, or even its talent. Back in the day, this was all written off as "promotional" and done for free. Which might explain why it was rarely done at all.
Nowadays, new media has to pony up the dough to pay the writers and performers and crew a fair rate for their contributions ("fair" being whatever the respective unions have and will manage to eke out in their collective agreements). Ultimately, this will be a Very Good Thing for new media content, because there's a funny thing that happens when you pay professionals to do what they do best: you get professional quality work.
I know I've been saying this for a long time now, but the times they really are a-changing. Cross-media is no longer being seen as an experimental thing. More and more producers are turning into the kinds of people who see real value in putting time and effort and resources behind doing more with their project than just making a TV show.
The real winners in the end is the audience, because they're the ones who get to enjoy the fruits of all this effort. And the funny thing about making the audience happy is that they keep coming back for more.
And isn't that, from the producer's perspective, what it's all about?
I've had the opportunity to work with a lot of TV producers developing new media components for their television shows, and at the beginning they all say the same thing: "We're really excited about your ideas for extending [name of show] online, and we're going to dedicate all the necessary resources to making it happen."
When you're putting together the proposals and getting the funding, they're there. They do their bit
And then you get the money, and one of three things happen:
1. They dedicate all the resources they can toward stealing the new media funding to help finance their TV show. Fortunately doesn't happen a lot, but when it does it's a really bad scene. Usually this happens because they're bad producers: they can't budget, or they can't stick to their budget, or they just lie a lot. Funny thing about bad producers, usually they're really good liars.
Actually, I suspect this might be a more common problem than I think, because after a few years the Bell Broadcast and New Media Fund -- which gives grants to new media productions in association with TV shows -- started offering top-up money to the actual TV production as well. I suppose this was meant to compensate them for the extra effort involved on their part, although a more cynical person than I might suggest that maybe it was just a bribe to get them to justify the Fund's existence.
2. They actually do dedicate the necessary resources to making it all work. Unfortunately this doesn't happen all that often either, but when it does you get amazing results. The epitome of this kind of producer is, well, Epitome Pictures. Creating the original Degrassi: The Next Generation community site with them was a new media producer's dream.
3. They completely forget about you. This is what usually happens, and that's why "we're going to do what it takes to make this work" is the Big Lie.
I understand why it happens -- they're TV producers, and they've got their hands full and resources already strained to the breaking point just to get the show in the can -- but it's disappointing. It's like going out on a few really good dates and thinking this relationship might be going somewhere, and then suddenly never hearing from the person again.
In order for a cross-media property to work, the producers from angles have to work together. There has to be communication between them and a recognition that all aspects of the production are important. Maybe not equally important, but still.
Depending on the creative, new media producers often need things like access to the TV set, or its crew, or even its talent. Back in the day, this was all written off as "promotional" and done for free. Which might explain why it was rarely done at all.
Nowadays, new media has to pony up the dough to pay the writers and performers and crew a fair rate for their contributions ("fair" being whatever the respective unions have and will manage to eke out in their collective agreements). Ultimately, this will be a Very Good Thing for new media content, because there's a funny thing that happens when you pay professionals to do what they do best: you get professional quality work.
I know I've been saying this for a long time now, but the times they really are a-changing. Cross-media is no longer being seen as an experimental thing. More and more producers are turning into the kinds of people who see real value in putting time and effort and resources behind doing more with their project than just making a TV show.
The real winners in the end is the audience, because they're the ones who get to enjoy the fruits of all this effort. And the funny thing about making the audience happy is that they keep coming back for more.
And isn't that, from the producer's perspective, what it's all about?
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Shameless promotion
I don't know if this counts as cross-media, exactly, but...
I was just sitting at the table having a half a grapefruit and some cinnamon raisin toast while American Idol came on the TV with one of the most stunning promotional things I've ever seen: Ryan Seacrest did this little thing about the movie Jumper with Hayden Christensen. The thing is: Christensen was holding a can of coke the entire time. Not only was it a Jumper promo, it was also product placement.
Brilliant or evil?
I was just sitting at the table having a half a grapefruit and some cinnamon raisin toast while American Idol came on the TV with one of the most stunning promotional things I've ever seen: Ryan Seacrest did this little thing about the movie Jumper with Hayden Christensen. The thing is: Christensen was holding a can of coke the entire time. Not only was it a Jumper promo, it was also product placement.
Brilliant or evil?
Thursday, February 7, 2008
What's your business model?
Bill Cunningham over at Pulp 2.0 is somebody who gets the whole cross-media thing, and is doing a pretty awesome job of proselytizing the message in his blog.
Today he posted about two opposite ends of the spectrum: on one side struggles the idea that giving away music for free online will hurt musicians, and on the other we find Damon Wayans' idea to create a free online comedy club to showcase up-and-coming comedians.
His basic point is that for years network television has been very successful with a free content model supported by advertising, and by all appearances the same model is the way to go online.
Certainly in my experience people don't seem to want to pay for anything online, and giving stuff away for free is fantastic promotion for the things you want them to pay for. Major news outlets like the NYT have learned this the hard way, initially making all their content freely available, then hiding it behind a pay firewall, and now making it available again. (I wouldn't have been able to link to the story in my previous post if this wasn't the case. Now if only Playback magazine would get their heads out of the year 2001 and figure out how things really work in the digital age.)
The music industry has never been able to figure out online distribution. I can't remember where I first heard this, but it always seemed to me the best metaphor for the music industry: they're like the guy selling water in the desert; when it starts to rain, it's time to find a new business model.
Thankfully I'm of an age where I don't care about new music anymore (it all sounds like crap to me now, which is how I know I'm officially old), and am perfectly happy to listen to the classic rock and 80's alternative I already possess copies of so I don't have to worry about giving any more money to the backwards-looking hamquacks who run the music industry. If Adam Ant, Roddy Frame, or Edwin Collins ever tour again, I'll gladly give them some ticket sale money, but I'm done buying new tracks on CD, MP3, or elsewise.
Now there are cases where people will pay for stuff. Cunningham cites the example of HBO in the TV world, which shows that people will pay extra if the content they're getting in return is good enough. I wonder if it's the case where people have to get tired of the lowest-common-denominator stuff first before the online equivalent of pay cable can sustain itself.
Sanctuary was an example of charging for ultra-high-quality content online, before it got picked up for free broadcast on the SciFi channel. I wonder how many paid subscribers they got? Probably not enough. I also wonder what their cross-media strategy will be; will they still provide exclusive content online, and will they still charge for it?
These are important questions as the makers and distributors of content try to figure out how to make it all work. As soon as someone cracks this nut, watch the floodgates open.
I predict that it's going to happen sooner than anyone thinks.
Today he posted about two opposite ends of the spectrum: on one side struggles the idea that giving away music for free online will hurt musicians, and on the other we find Damon Wayans' idea to create a free online comedy club to showcase up-and-coming comedians.
His basic point is that for years network television has been very successful with a free content model supported by advertising, and by all appearances the same model is the way to go online.
Certainly in my experience people don't seem to want to pay for anything online, and giving stuff away for free is fantastic promotion for the things you want them to pay for. Major news outlets like the NYT have learned this the hard way, initially making all their content freely available, then hiding it behind a pay firewall, and now making it available again. (I wouldn't have been able to link to the story in my previous post if this wasn't the case. Now if only Playback magazine would get their heads out of the year 2001 and figure out how things really work in the digital age.)
The music industry has never been able to figure out online distribution. I can't remember where I first heard this, but it always seemed to me the best metaphor for the music industry: they're like the guy selling water in the desert; when it starts to rain, it's time to find a new business model.
Thankfully I'm of an age where I don't care about new music anymore (it all sounds like crap to me now, which is how I know I'm officially old), and am perfectly happy to listen to the classic rock and 80's alternative I already possess copies of so I don't have to worry about giving any more money to the backwards-looking hamquacks who run the music industry. If Adam Ant, Roddy Frame, or Edwin Collins ever tour again, I'll gladly give them some ticket sale money, but I'm done buying new tracks on CD, MP3, or elsewise.
Now there are cases where people will pay for stuff. Cunningham cites the example of HBO in the TV world, which shows that people will pay extra if the content they're getting in return is good enough. I wonder if it's the case where people have to get tired of the lowest-common-denominator stuff first before the online equivalent of pay cable can sustain itself.
Sanctuary was an example of charging for ultra-high-quality content online, before it got picked up for free broadcast on the SciFi channel. I wonder how many paid subscribers they got? Probably not enough. I also wonder what their cross-media strategy will be; will they still provide exclusive content online, and will they still charge for it?
These are important questions as the makers and distributors of content try to figure out how to make it all work. As soon as someone cracks this nut, watch the floodgates open.
I predict that it's going to happen sooner than anyone thinks.
From the New York Times: Art in the Age of Franchising
The New York Times recently published an article lamenting the impending demise of Friday Night Lights, posing the question "Why is Friday Night Lights a bust?" Author Virginia Heffernan suggests it fails in part because it's just a television show, and nothing more. It's not cross-media.
She expresses the idea of what it means to be a cross-media property very well, so well that it's worth quoting a large passage:
She expresses the idea of what it means to be a cross-media property very well, so well that it's worth quoting a large passage:
The fault of “Friday Night Lights” is extrinsic: the program has steadfastly refused to become a franchise. It is not and will never be “Heroes,” “Project Runway,” “The Hills” or Harry Potter. It generates no tabloid features, cartoons, trading cards, board games, action figures or vibrating brooms. There will be no “Friday Night Lights: Origins,” and no “FNL Touchdown” for PlayStation.She makes an excellent point here about the role the audience can play in cross-media properties. When it works best, it engages the audience by inviting them to feel a part of things. Creators exclude the fans at their peril:
This may sound like a blessing, but in a digital age a show cannot succeed without franchising. An author’s work can no longer exist in a vacuum, independent of hardy online extensions; indeed, a vascular system that pervades the Internet. Artists must now embrace the cultural theorists’ beloved model of the rhizome and think of their work as a horizontal stem for numberless roots and shoots — as many entry and exit points as fans can devise.
This is an enormous social shift that coincides with the changeover from analog to digital modes of communication, the rise of the Internet and the new raucousness of fans. It’s a mistake to see this imperative to branch out as a simple coarsening of culture. In fact, rhizome art is both lower-brow (“American Idol,” Derek Waters’s “Drunk History”) and more avant-garde (“Battlestar Galactica,” Ryan Trecartin’s “I-Be Area”) than linear, author-controlled narrative, which takes its cues from the middle-class form of the novel.
With “Friday Night Lights,” however, there are no shoots; the exquisite episodes are all you get. The show, which is inspired by the 1990 book by H. G. Bissinger and Peter Berg's 2004 movie of the same name, ferociously guards its borders, refines its aesthetic, defines a particular reality and insists on authenticity. It shuts fans out. Even though NBC .com offers plenty of streaming video — whole episodes, as well as tightly produced hagiographies of the show’s actors — no independent “Friday Night Lights” wiki has formed on the Web to rival the “Heroes Wiki,” “Lostpedia” and the polyglot “Battlestar Wiki.” Nor has “Friday Night Lights” inspired any significant body of fan fiction (viewer-written stories that take off on the canon), though at the outset a few viewers eagerly awaited an outpouring of “slash” fan fiction (chronicles of hypothetical romances between male characters) from a football show.
Without a sense of being needed or at least included, fans snub art — at least when it takes the form of prime-time TV. They won’t participate in online dialogues and events, visit message boards and chat rooms or design games. As a result, platforms for supplementary advertising aren’t built, starving even the shows fans profess to love of attention, and thus money, and thus life. Aloof and passive fans kill their darlings.Well said.
As the writers’ strike has made clear, art and entertainment in the digital age are highly collaborative, and none of it can thrive without engaging audiences more actively than ever before. Fans today see themselves as doing business with television shows, movies, even books. They want to rate, review, remix. They want to make tributes and parodies, create footnotes and concordances, mess with volume and color values, talk back and shout down.
With television at a crossroads and studio oligopolies looking mighty suspicious, the object lesson of “Friday Night Lights” — no production is an island, entire of itself — should be as plain as its allure.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
It's the dawn of a new era
Actually, the new era dawned a while ago; it's just taking a while for everyone to catch up.
Traditional ways of experiencing entertainment have changed. Experiencing TV is a lot more than plopping down on the sofa and to watch whatever's on; it's watching what you want to watch when you want to watch it, and going online to interact with games and blogs and all manner of enhanced content, as well as reading books and comics and attending live shows and whatever other ingenious things the creators imagined to go with it.
This is what it means to be cross-media: a single property spanning multiple media, where each elements feeds into and off of the others to create a deeper, richer, and hopefully better experience for the audience.
The purpose of this blog is to examine the different ways that cross-media entertainment strategies are getting implemented. From online properties migrating elsewhere like Quarterlife and Sanctuary, to film and television monsters like Cloverfield and Heroes branching out, there's no shortage of cases to study.
Let's go see what the future has in store.
Traditional ways of experiencing entertainment have changed. Experiencing TV is a lot more than plopping down on the sofa and to watch whatever's on; it's watching what you want to watch when you want to watch it, and going online to interact with games and blogs and all manner of enhanced content, as well as reading books and comics and attending live shows and whatever other ingenious things the creators imagined to go with it.
This is what it means to be cross-media: a single property spanning multiple media, where each elements feeds into and off of the others to create a deeper, richer, and hopefully better experience for the audience.
The purpose of this blog is to examine the different ways that cross-media entertainment strategies are getting implemented. From online properties migrating elsewhere like Quarterlife and Sanctuary, to film and television monsters like Cloverfield and Heroes branching out, there's no shortage of cases to study.
Let's go see what the future has in store.
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