As producers head to Cannes to pitch their projects, a group of experienced UK filmmakers reflect on the best way to respond to the almost inevitable streams of ‘nos’ they are about to receive.
Rejection is an occupational hazard for producers everywhere. They know public funders, broadcasters, studios, streamers and private investors are far more likely to turn down their projects than to support them. But there are different ways of handling the process. In the UK, the British Film Institute never gives notes. By contrast, in the Netherlands, unsuccessful applicants to the Film Fund receive detailed feedback and are allowed to apply for a second time.
“Rejection is always bad. The only satisfaction is if you’ve been rejected several times and you actually make it,” says Andrew Eaton, one of the UK’s most successful producers, the co-founder of Revolution Films with Michael Winterbottom, who has more recently produced projects such as The Crown for Netflix and films and TV through his Turbine Studios.
“If you want to be a producer, you need to have passion. I still feel just as angry now when I get a rejection as I ever did.”
For Record Picture Company’s Jeremy Thomas, it’s a source of defiant pride that almost all of his best-known films faced fierce opposition from potential financiers. “Rejection makes you stronger,” Thomas insists. “Rejection is just part of the game. That general negativity toward your chosen endeavour has helped you get the film [made] because you’re a determined person who believes in what you’re doing.”
He battled to get many of his projects into production, including Nagisa Oshima’s Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, David Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch and Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor, which won the Oscar for best film. These films accrued up to 40 or 50 rejections before finally securing investment. “Rejection boosts you, gives you a bit of a turbo charge,” Thomas declares.
But he acknowledges the maverick way he once cut deals, using “smoke and mirrors”, is no longer possible as the pre-sales market contracts and algorithms take the place of investor hunches.
“The second best answer is a fast ’no’”
When it comes to public funding, Dutch producers have mixed feelings about their own system. Although they receive extensive feedback, some chafe against having their work judged by executives who may not share their practical knowledge of filmmaking. Filmmakers pitch their projects to a committee of five experts. If they get through this, they can then make their formal submission. They can re-pitch several times, but can only submit twice. The Fund supports only a small percentage of the projects it receives.
Producer-director Ate de Jong of Mullholland Pictures says almost all of his Dutch movies were rejected by the Netherlands Film Fund when he first applied, but many were eventually funded after a second application. Nonetheless, de Jong, whose credits include Drop Dead Fred and romantic musical drama Heart Strings, says the feedback system can have its drawbacks.
“[Producers may try] to cater to the taste of the Film Fund only to get the money,” he says. “The standard thing they say is, ‘We’ll write the film exactly the way they want it, and then we will make it the way we want it.’ That is not a healthy collaboration. If you get notes, and the notes are sincere and valuable, you can’t just pretend [you are following them].”
In the UK, some producers express frustration at the lack of feedback from the BFI. “Getting some reasons why something [is being rejected], especially for public funding, is, I think, legitimate,” says one producer who has recently received a ‘no.’
Lobo Films’ founder Andrea Cornwell, whose credits include Love Lies Bleeding, Saint Maud and the upcoming Becoming Capa, believes feedback is essential for rising filmmakers. “Even as a relatively experienced producer, you don’t get a meeting, you don’t get any response. You actually get quite a passive-aggressive letter telling you not to abuse their staff. I don’t know how one would because you have no contact with them.
“You need to grow quite a tough skin, but at the end of any producer’s submission, there is often a very vulnerable writer or director waiting for news. If you’ve got nothing to pass on, it is a void. They’re often quite resentful of their producer saying, ‘so and so doesn’t want it’. If there isn’t an explanation, I don’t think they can really process it. For the producer and writer relationship, it would be incredibly helpful [to have feedback].”
It is not just the BFI. “The broadcasters are just as bad. Sometimes the biggest problem is the length of time it takes to get an answer,” says a producer who asked to remain anonymous. “It can take months and months and months.”
“The second best answer is a fast ‘no,’” as a third unnamed producer puts it.
Others say if they can talk directly to the commissioner in question, “you will probably get a very direct and helpful answer, even if it is a rejection”.
The hitch is the commissioner may prove elusive when a spurned suitor comes calling.
Eaton expresses “some sympathy” for the BFI and BBC over how they handle the rejection process. “They have a public responsibility that the streamers don’t have,” he says. “They feel more beholden to be fairer, and they often get so overwhelmed. [But] I had a script that went in not so long ago. I’m not going to say which organisation, but the commissioning editor started reading it on a plane and then never finished it and completely forgot to get back to me.”
Producers say executives from the streaming companies will send messages to filmmakers enthusing about certain projects before eventually admitting, a few paragraphs down, they don’t actually want to make them. “We’ve already got several projects like this on our slate,” is a familiar and (many producers feel) disingenuous excuse for saying ‘no’ in a non-confrontational fashion.
Mia Bays, director of the BFI Filmmaking Fund, says the BFI aims to be “clear and transparent” about its approach to feedback. “[We] thought long and hard about this policy, which is set out in our funding guidelines, so everyone sees it at application stage,” she explains.
“As an open access fund, we receive a high volume of applications, so we’re only able to provide feedback to projects that reach the final stage of assessment and are then declined. However, this isn’t simply about capacity, it’s also about clarity and responsibility. Any feedback we give is from the BFI, a UK funder with specific objectives and priorities. We’re conscious that while feedback can feel valuable in the short term, other partners, funders or collaborators may bring different perspectives that better support a project’s progression. Also, feedback can disincentivise, and that isn’t good creatively.
“This position is informed by a team with experience on both sides of the table,” she continues. “Since projects can only be resubmitted to the BFI Filmmaking Fund if there has been a significant change, it’s essential we don’t create mixed messages or raise expectations that we can’t meet, and by being consistent on this, we can ensure filmmakers take their work forward beyond us. Obviously, saying no is never easy. What I would say is to be resilient and keep going.”
Hard-earned wisdom
Eaton has learned if a project has been “rejected by four or five financiers,” it may make sense to walk away. “You have to read the signs. In my younger days, I would just have kept going and said, ‘They’re all wrong.’ As you get older, you go, ‘There is a reason people are not picking up on this.’”
Often, it may simply be because the market has shifted. Streamers are considered especially volatile in how they commission, partly because of frequent changes in personnel. But Eaton admits perseverance sometimes pays off. “The series we are doing now, Hamburg Days [about the early days of The Beatles], we went back to the BBC three times,” he says. The broadcaster initially had concerns about “tone”, but the filmmakers addressed these, and the BBC eventually came on board.
“You’re so demoralised when you get a rejection that it is quite hard to pick yourself up and go again,” he continues. “Obviously, as you get older, you think you get a bit wiser, and therefore your ability to negotiate your way through the system gets better. I think the rejection hurts just as much as ever, probably for slightly different reasons. But I do think you get better at accepting that that is the way the market is operating.”
Sometimes, rejection helps a producer avoid a collaboration that might not have worked anyway.
“You want to find the right partner and the worst thing in the world is to be saddled with a partner who has critical concerns about the creative or other aspects of the package,” says Cornwell.
She has a spreadsheet on which she keeps track of where she is making submissions. “A ‘no’ is ticked off and you’re on to the next one. You don’t give [rejection] a backward thought.”
“Just move on, don’t bear grudges,” agrees Thomas.
Rejection is simply the price of being a producer. “Ninety per cent of the time, it’s a ‘no’, and so when you get a ‘yes,’ it’s a great celebration,” says Eaton. “Anything that gets greenlit these days feels like a minor miracle.”
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