Thursday, October 18, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Recoupment
I have known I am a huge dork for a long time, and now it's official: I wrote a question in to Playbill.com, and it was published. For your enjoyment:
This week's question comes from Brian M. of New York, NY.
Question: What exactly does it mean for a show to recoup its investment?
Answer: To answer this question, Playbill.com talked with John Breglio, the producer of the current Broadway revival of A Chorus Line and a theatrical lawyer who has represented the likes of Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Theatre journalists write all the time about a show "recouping" its investment. Put simply, Breglio says, "Recoupment is the point at which the producer has repaid to his investors all the money that he raised to develop, mount and produce the show." All that money is referred to collectively as the capitalization. In the case of A Chorus Line, the capitalization was $8 million, but it can get much higher for bigger musicals. That's all the money a producer spends on a Broadway show from the day someone comes up with the idea to the day it officially opens on Broadway. Those costs include the sets, costumes, props, lighting design, rehearsal space, performer and crew salaries during rehearsals, the rights to the material, the advances paid to the writers and the out-of-town tryout.
Every week, whatever the show takes in at the box office — minus the running costs, which include actor and crew salaries, theatre rental, advertising and other costs — will help pay back that capitalization. "One week in November of last year after we opened, we did $800,000, say, in gross," Breglio says. "That week I probably made $350,000 in pure profit. That $350,000 now goes towards repaying that $8 million [capitalization]."
Determining the weekly profit can be rather complicated. For instance, for a Broadway musical, typically 65 percent of the profit every week goes to paying the investors back for the capitalization, while 35 percent goes to the profit pool, which includes the writers, directors, choreographer, designers, lead producer and other people involved in the show, each one getting an agreed-upon share of that profit pool money every week.
Some shows have an arrangement called amortization, in which every week, before the 65-35 split is made, an agreed-upon figure (typically one to two percent of the capitalization) gets taken out of the profits and is sent directly to the investors. Then 65 percent of the remaining figure also goes to the investors, and 35 percent of the remaining figure gets sent to the profit pool. The amount taken out for amortization is later paid back to the profit pool after recoupment. One can see how it gets rather complicated, and every show has a different agreement. (For more info on this topic, click here for a previous Ask Playbill.com column on writer salaries.)
The first time Breglio paid his investors for A Chorus Line, he handed them each a check on opening night in October 2006, since the pre-Broadway tryout in San Francisco and the Broadway previews had actually netted some profit already (typically, a show doesn't expect to make a profit during those performances). He then sent them each a check once a month until the $8 million was paid off 19 weeks later, in February 2007.
After recoupment, the weekly profits are divided differently. First of all, typically, the profit pool's portion rises to 40 percent, and the investors' share goes down to 60 percent. Second of all, Breglio says, before recoupment, the lead producers — whose day jobs involve developing and running the show but who don't typically invest their own money in the show, per the famous rule stated in the musical The Producers — only get paid their share of the profit pool plus an office charge of around $1,500-$3,500. But after recoupment, the lead producers start to take home a portion of that investors' share of the profits. The figure can be anywhere from 10 to 50 percent of the investors' share, depending on what was agreed upon before the show opened. (Note: On A Chorus Line Breglio is the sole lead producer, but on some shows it can be three or four or so. Also, if 30 people are credited as "producers" above the title on the musical's poster outside the theatre, not all of them are lead producers working on the show day-to-day — some are just big investors.)
The percentage that a lead producer gets depends on how hard a sell the show was to the investors before it opened. "If you have a show that is considered a good bet, a safe bet or slam dunk, you can keep a lot" of the profit that's made after recoupment as a lead producer, Breglio says. "If it's a show that has to struggle to raise money — and we all know which those are, you don't have to guess, even — then the lead producers will have to give away a lot because they have to attract these investors."
So what about the ultimate question: How can you tell beforehand if a show will recoup its investment? "It's a complete crap shoot," Breglio says. "People told me I had slam dunk with Chorus Line, and I said there is no such thing as a slam dunk."
Breglio does have one overall tip: "A lot of people focus on how much the show cost, and they go, 'Oh my God, the show cost $20 million.' Yes, it's important. But the key to successful shows is what your weekly expenses are, not your capitalization. Because if your weekly expenses are reasonable, and you keep them down, you have a shot at making money."
This week's question comes from Brian M. of New York, NY.
Question: What exactly does it mean for a show to recoup its investment?
Answer: To answer this question, Playbill.com talked with John Breglio, the producer of the current Broadway revival of A Chorus Line and a theatrical lawyer who has represented the likes of Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Theatre journalists write all the time about a show "recouping" its investment. Put simply, Breglio says, "Recoupment is the point at which the producer has repaid to his investors all the money that he raised to develop, mount and produce the show." All that money is referred to collectively as the capitalization. In the case of A Chorus Line, the capitalization was $8 million, but it can get much higher for bigger musicals. That's all the money a producer spends on a Broadway show from the day someone comes up with the idea to the day it officially opens on Broadway. Those costs include the sets, costumes, props, lighting design, rehearsal space, performer and crew salaries during rehearsals, the rights to the material, the advances paid to the writers and the out-of-town tryout.
Every week, whatever the show takes in at the box office — minus the running costs, which include actor and crew salaries, theatre rental, advertising and other costs — will help pay back that capitalization. "One week in November of last year after we opened, we did $800,000, say, in gross," Breglio says. "That week I probably made $350,000 in pure profit. That $350,000 now goes towards repaying that $8 million [capitalization]."
Determining the weekly profit can be rather complicated. For instance, for a Broadway musical, typically 65 percent of the profit every week goes to paying the investors back for the capitalization, while 35 percent goes to the profit pool, which includes the writers, directors, choreographer, designers, lead producer and other people involved in the show, each one getting an agreed-upon share of that profit pool money every week.
Some shows have an arrangement called amortization, in which every week, before the 65-35 split is made, an agreed-upon figure (typically one to two percent of the capitalization) gets taken out of the profits and is sent directly to the investors. Then 65 percent of the remaining figure also goes to the investors, and 35 percent of the remaining figure gets sent to the profit pool. The amount taken out for amortization is later paid back to the profit pool after recoupment. One can see how it gets rather complicated, and every show has a different agreement. (For more info on this topic, click here for a previous Ask Playbill.com column on writer salaries.)
The first time Breglio paid his investors for A Chorus Line, he handed them each a check on opening night in October 2006, since the pre-Broadway tryout in San Francisco and the Broadway previews had actually netted some profit already (typically, a show doesn't expect to make a profit during those performances). He then sent them each a check once a month until the $8 million was paid off 19 weeks later, in February 2007.
After recoupment, the weekly profits are divided differently. First of all, typically, the profit pool's portion rises to 40 percent, and the investors' share goes down to 60 percent. Second of all, Breglio says, before recoupment, the lead producers — whose day jobs involve developing and running the show but who don't typically invest their own money in the show, per the famous rule stated in the musical The Producers — only get paid their share of the profit pool plus an office charge of around $1,500-$3,500. But after recoupment, the lead producers start to take home a portion of that investors' share of the profits. The figure can be anywhere from 10 to 50 percent of the investors' share, depending on what was agreed upon before the show opened. (Note: On A Chorus Line Breglio is the sole lead producer, but on some shows it can be three or four or so. Also, if 30 people are credited as "producers" above the title on the musical's poster outside the theatre, not all of them are lead producers working on the show day-to-day — some are just big investors.)
The percentage that a lead producer gets depends on how hard a sell the show was to the investors before it opened. "If you have a show that is considered a good bet, a safe bet or slam dunk, you can keep a lot" of the profit that's made after recoupment as a lead producer, Breglio says. "If it's a show that has to struggle to raise money — and we all know which those are, you don't have to guess, even — then the lead producers will have to give away a lot because they have to attract these investors."
So what about the ultimate question: How can you tell beforehand if a show will recoup its investment? "It's a complete crap shoot," Breglio says. "People told me I had slam dunk with Chorus Line, and I said there is no such thing as a slam dunk."
Breglio does have one overall tip: "A lot of people focus on how much the show cost, and they go, 'Oh my God, the show cost $20 million.' Yes, it's important. But the key to successful shows is what your weekly expenses are, not your capitalization. Because if your weekly expenses are reasonable, and you keep them down, you have a shot at making money."
Friday, October 5, 2007
An R-Rated Apology
Since it’s October and Halloween is just around the corner, I feel it’s appropriate for me to issue a public apology. To my mother.
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I used to sneak into R-Rated horror movies before I was seventeen. I know you raised me to be an honest, law abiding citizen, but peer pressure and my own morbid curiosity caused me to break the rules on multiple occasions and ‘sneak in’ to films such as Halloween: H20, Scream 3, The Blair Witch Project, Valentine, I Know What You Did Last Summer, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, and countless other slasher flicks. I’m also sorry for seeing such awful movies, but that’s not what this is about. This letter is about you, Mom. I betrayed your trust in the name of horror, and I’m sorry.
Remember that time I said I was going to see “Dude, Where’s My Car?” with friends? Well, I was actually seeing Scream 3. And that wasn’t the first time. Armageddon was actually Urban Legend. Hope Floats was Halloween H20. Anna And The King was House On Haunted Hill, and Titanic (the 3rd time) was Scream 2. A Bug’s Life? Well, that was actually A Bug’s Life. But what I’m trying to say is, I shouldn’t have lied.
But here’s the thing, Mom. Have you ever seen these slasher films? Not only are they gloriously gory (my enjoyment for Haunted Houses should tell you I love over-the top, gawdy horror), but they are so predictable and entertaining that I just could not resist my desire to see them before I was technically allowed to. As far as I can remember, none of the friends who accompanied me were of age, either. But please don’t take it out on them. They shared my same fascination with the genre.
I hope you don’t think that because I like horror movies and went against your judgment that I am some kind of serial killer. Hmm, let me rephrase that: I love you, don’t ground me.
Love,
Brian
P.S. What are you doing on October 26th? Saw IV is coming out!
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I used to sneak into R-Rated horror movies before I was seventeen. I know you raised me to be an honest, law abiding citizen, but peer pressure and my own morbid curiosity caused me to break the rules on multiple occasions and ‘sneak in’ to films such as Halloween: H20, Scream 3, The Blair Witch Project, Valentine, I Know What You Did Last Summer, I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, and countless other slasher flicks. I’m also sorry for seeing such awful movies, but that’s not what this is about. This letter is about you, Mom. I betrayed your trust in the name of horror, and I’m sorry.
Remember that time I said I was going to see “Dude, Where’s My Car?” with friends? Well, I was actually seeing Scream 3. And that wasn’t the first time. Armageddon was actually Urban Legend. Hope Floats was Halloween H20. Anna And The King was House On Haunted Hill, and Titanic (the 3rd time) was Scream 2. A Bug’s Life? Well, that was actually A Bug’s Life. But what I’m trying to say is, I shouldn’t have lied.But here’s the thing, Mom. Have you ever seen these slasher films? Not only are they gloriously gory (my enjoyment for Haunted Houses should tell you I love over-the top, gawdy horror), but they are so predictable and entertaining that I just could not resist my desire to see them before I was technically allowed to. As far as I can remember, none of the friends who accompanied me were of age, either. But please don’t take it out on them. They shared my same fascination with the genre.
I hope you don’t think that because I like horror movies and went against your judgment that I am some kind of serial killer. Hmm, let me rephrase that: I love you, don’t ground me.
Love,
Brian
P.S. What are you doing on October 26th? Saw IV is coming out!
Rent, A Decade Later
I saw Rent last night for the tenth time. That’s right, tenth. A milestone in itself, it was also the time I saw the show with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal, the production’s original Mark and Roger. I have a bootleg video of the original Broadway cast on opening night, but of course nothing compares to seeing these two powerhouse performers live and in person. After failing (at least 5 times) to get rush tickets, I broke down and bought a seat in the front mezzanine. After seeing the show from the front row in the past, it’s difficult for me to want to see it any other way. But the ticket didn’t cost me much, and I had a great view of the stage, so I couldn’t complain.Well, I couldn’t complain about the seat. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so thankful to have had the opportunity to see these two new legends perform the roles that made them infamous in the musical theater world, as well as Tamyra Gray from Season 1 of American Idol. But this show has been around for 11 years, and it shows. Every time I see this show, I leave wondering if someone who has never seen the show before would be able to understand what was going on. And last night was no exception. Lines and important plot points are skipped over, and it seems as though the performers work under the assumption that everyone in the audience has seen the show before (which may have been true, in this case, but still). It was clear, however, that tiny changes were made to make the plot clearer to the audience (particularly the detail with Angel killing Benny’s dog), but these came off as passive and cheesy, at best. The mics seemed scratchy at times, which I couldn’t decide was because of the system, because the voices were too big for their mics, or a combination of both. And I felt as though the actors needed to add in quirky bits in order to entertain themselves, truly making the show the ADD student in high school of Broadway theater.
Let’s go character by character, shall we? As Mark, Anthony is flawless. I have always felt as though he had the strongest character analysis of anyone I’ve seen as Mark (with competition from Matt Caplan), and since he created the character he’s had over a decade of time and world experience to add to that analysis. The man is brilliant. He commands applause after “Halloween,” which is usually one of the more forgotten songs in the show (albeit one of my personal favorites). You will never hear me complain about this man’s performance. Ever. In anything. Adam Pascal, on the other hand, was vocally impressive, but his acting seemed tired and, well, he seemed bored. I felt this way about him when I saw him in Aida, but he had been in the show for three years or so and was getting ready to leave, so I dismissed it to him being over the show. But maybe that’s just his acting style. Fortunately for him, his vocal performance last night was almost enough to make up for it. Tamyra Gray baffled me as Mimi. Vocally, she was the most impressive one, and I should hope that she should be, as a recording artist, and would be runner-up of AI, if it weren’t for that MJ/Side Show Bob look-alike Justin Guarini. Her acting seemed robotic, static, and forced at times. But then there were moments where she shined, especially Angel’s funeral, “Without You,” and “Goodbye, Love.” I couldn’t figure out if I liked her or not, and eventually dismissed it to the old American Idol impression: ‘She was good…when she was singing.’ (see Fantasia in Color Purple and Diana Degarmo in Bklyn for more examples of this saying). Angel was another star of the show. That man has his character down pact. Even though he was the main culprit of letting lines and plot details slip through the cracks, he was so funny and fun to watch and his dancing and singing were so phenomenal that it was hard to care. Collins was equally as impressive vocally, and his performance and character development was some of the strongest of the entire cast. And, he was making his Broadway debut, which makes him that much cooler. Joanne was only okay. Her performance was good, considering all of her bits seemed a bit rushed by the band. But her voice a little too nasally, especially paired with the overly nasally and obnoxious Maureen. Her character was a little ‘out there,’ and her vocals were very nasally and almost too painful to listen to. Benny (played by Byron Utley, the original male “Seasons of Love” soloist on Broadway) brought compassion to the character, which was refreshing for a change. But just like every actor to play Benny, his character causes him to go mostly unnoticed. The rest of the ensemble had their moments to shine. Some of them did, some of them didn’t. Telly Leung, a Wicked veteran and understudy for Angel, was compassionate and gentle as the Squeegee Man, and very likable (easy on the eyes with an amazing voice to boot). The Seasons of Love soloist was good and bad, with an amazing voice but was overly expressive and a bit too loose with the free range of her solo. The other members did a good job supporting the others, but unfortunately were not strong enough to make an impression.
It will be interesting to see how much longer this show lasts. It seems very tired, yet it always envokes deep emotions about my feelings of performing and I just wonder if what it’s riding on right now are its guest stars (sound familiar, Chicago?), and its nostalgia for Rentheads who have helped keep the show a success for such a long time.
Across The Universe
One of the great things about living in large cities like LA or New York is having access to smaller-released films. While I missed out on Once, Ashley and I saw Across The Universe last week. I’m sure this is one of the wider released indie films of the year, but it is still considered a smaller scale film, which you would not be able to guess from the amount of talent and polished product that comes spilling off the screen during this film.Don’t get me wrong. Any movie musical is bound to be a little cheesy in parts. And when it’s based to the music of The Beatles, you risk a campy Mamma Mia esque finished product. While Across The Universe did have a few such moments, for the most part the film is a beautiful, if not psychedelic, journey through the US during the Vietnam war (would you expect it to be set in any other era?).
Let me put this out there: Julie Taymor is a friggin’ genius. Genius.
The cast of this movie is stellar, not to mention the throng of NY theatre performers who make appearances: Curtis Holbrook, Matt Caplan, John Jeffrey Martin, Aisha de Haas, Orfeh, Antonique Smith, Diedre Goodwin, Tracy Nicole Chapman, Yassmin Alers, Luther Creek, Logan Marshall-Green, Saycon Sengbloh, Destan Owens, Nikki Snelson, Noah Weisberg, (P.S. You get major kudos if you recognize even a fraction of these names). I loved (repeat, loved) Evan Rachael Wood in Thirteen, and have always thought of her as one of those underappreciated young talents in Hollywood whose presence is outshined by the rehabbed, tabloided ones, but have recently began to get weirded out because of her directions in life (Marilyn Manson, need I say more?). What this film will do to her career, though. Wow. She was sensational. And her voice was pretty, too, who knew (I love finding out which actors can/can’t sing [Ewan McGregor/Amanda Bynes, for example])? Her two co-stars, Jim Sturgess and Joe Anderson were also highlights of the film as her lover and brother, respectively. And yes, they could sing, too.
While on the outset this film might seem like it would go the Mamma Mia direction, it ultimately sets out for something deeper (it is Julie Taymor, after all). And it succeeds, although perhaps not to its full potential. The release of this film is timed well, with negotiations on the war in Iraq and a looming Presidential election sparking new interest in war politics. Universe takes place throughout the Vietnam war, which one of the main characters is deployed for. The film had moments of brilliance in turning Beatles songs into political statements (“Let it Be” was chilling and intensely moving, “Blackbird” beautifully mind-opening, and “All You Need Is Love” equally effective). But then the “movie musical” in it took over, and the overall message was weakened by psychedelic montages (featuring Bono on a bus, Eddie Izzard as a circus ringleader, and Selma Hayek as a hospital nurse…all 10 of her!) and a few transitions and song choices that were hard to buy and ended up bringing the hoaky factor into the film. That was my big frustration. Visually, it was stunning. Audibly, it was pleasurable. The song connections were clever, the direction and talent flawless. But it fell short on its message, a message that could have resounded loud and clear if its attempt to be so artsy didn’t hinder it from going all the way.
Grey's Anatomy vs. Private Practice--Which Was Worse?
Ooooh, Grey’s Anatomy is gonna be weird this season. With the interns now the head honchos, George re-doing his residency, and a whole new slew of cast members (where was I when they were holding auditions?), the show has majorly changed—and hopefully not for the worse.
In the season premiere, not a whole lot went on…George complained about and made up excuses for not passing his exam, Meredith and Derek attempted to negotiate their relationship (what else is new?), Callie struggled as the new Chief of Surgery (with no help from Bailey), and Izzie saved a deer. Big woop.
The only saving grace of the episode came at the very end, when George showed up on Izzie’s doorstep and uttered the words, “I love you too.” God, pull my heart out and operate it, why doncha? My desire for George and Izzie to be together (which is weird for T.R. and Katherine since they’re besties) almost overshadows the fact that George is going to break Callie’s heart. My prediction: Callie will make George’s life a living hell, George & Izzie will struggle to maintain their relationship with Callie lurking, their status as student and boss, and not to mention their friends, and things will get really awkward when they break up. Isn’t this supposed to be a medical show?
Then there’s Private Practice, Kate Walsh’s spinoff from Grey’s. Either Shonda Rimes thought Walsh had the strongest character on the show or everyone was sick of hearing about the Derek-Meredith-Addison triangle. Regardless, and it pains me to say this because of my love for Taye Diggs, Audra McDonald and Tim Daly, the result is a cheap imitation of Grey’s that manages to pin itself up against a wall, limited by its very source material. I’m talking family planning, people. It is clear from the pilot that all of the medical story lines (as well as undercutting angsty character plots) are going to center around children, family, birth. Doesn’t that severly limit the material for the show? Call me crazy, but I think a spin-off is already limiting in its source material, and Private Practice is managing to do so even more. We’ll see how successful this show is. At least ABC was smart enough to put it on a different night from Grey’s, although it could possibly use the ratings boost that come from the Ugly Betty-Grey’s Anatomy powerhouse.
In the season premiere, not a whole lot went on…George complained about and made up excuses for not passing his exam, Meredith and Derek attempted to negotiate their relationship (what else is new?), Callie struggled as the new Chief of Surgery (with no help from Bailey), and Izzie saved a deer. Big woop.
The only saving grace of the episode came at the very end, when George showed up on Izzie’s doorstep and uttered the words, “I love you too.” God, pull my heart out and operate it, why doncha? My desire for George and Izzie to be together (which is weird for T.R. and Katherine since they’re besties) almost overshadows the fact that George is going to break Callie’s heart. My prediction: Callie will make George’s life a living hell, George & Izzie will struggle to maintain their relationship with Callie lurking, their status as student and boss, and not to mention their friends, and things will get really awkward when they break up. Isn’t this supposed to be a medical show?
Then there’s Private Practice, Kate Walsh’s spinoff from Grey’s. Either Shonda Rimes thought Walsh had the strongest character on the show or everyone was sick of hearing about the Derek-Meredith-Addison triangle. Regardless, and it pains me to say this because of my love for Taye Diggs, Audra McDonald and Tim Daly, the result is a cheap imitation of Grey’s that manages to pin itself up against a wall, limited by its very source material. I’m talking family planning, people. It is clear from the pilot that all of the medical story lines (as well as undercutting angsty character plots) are going to center around children, family, birth. Doesn’t that severly limit the material for the show? Call me crazy, but I think a spin-off is already limiting in its source material, and Private Practice is managing to do so even more. We’ll see how successful this show is. At least ABC was smart enough to put it on a different night from Grey’s, although it could possibly use the ratings boost that come from the Ugly Betty-Grey’s Anatomy powerhouse.
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