How leadership training shaped my filmmaking, and why it should be required. (part 1).

Originally shared on December 15th, 2021

Over the past three years, I’ve been semi-immersed in an intensive coach and leadership training program. What started as a quest for personal development has evolved into a deep passion and curiosity for improving how leaders lead in creative spaces, and how we interact on a regular basis with our colleagues.

I’ve been producing independent films, shorts, music videos, and web series since 2010. I realize now that for the majority of that time I was woefully unprepared to do so.

Instinctually, I’ve always been a leader. As a kid, this would look like me bossing my siblings around and forcing them to perform plays in our basement or act for the horror film we were making in our backyard with my parent’s camcorder. In high school, this looked slightly less bossy and a little more visionary: creating and running Boulder High School’s annual haunted house with my dear friend for three years, budget and all. This transitioned into Stage Managing semi-professional theater productions in Colorado before fleeing to the big city for a highly inflated idea of romanticism and independence that seemed critical to my survival at the age of 17.

In college, my leadership skills became a bit more refined as I practiced manufacturing stories out of thin air with my friends and colleagues. My inner-seven-year-old-dictator would still surface occasionally, largely driven by anxiety I had not yet learned how to process, and more often than not I found myself faking knowledge or assurance when I had none.

This worked for a long time. By the end of my senior year, I was not an expert at leading (like I thought I was), I was an expert at compensating.

Often in rooms and conversations surrounded by men, and sometimes women, who were significantly older than me, I learned how to adjust every bit of myself so that I would not be perceived as young or incompetent. I laughed at cultural references that I didn’t understand, learned to dress attractive-but-not-too-sexy-and-avoid-skirts-and-dresses-at-all-costs, how to speak in such a way where I had an opinion but it didn’t come off as aggressive or over-excited or threatening, and how to flirt just enough to get my point across but not enough to give anyone any real ideas. I thrived.

For a while anyway.

Then, as I found myself and my people and dealt with a lot of my own demons, the desire to prove myself to the world began to diminish. When it did, I realized I didn’t actually know who I was as a leader, or as a film producer, or as basic human being. I had gotten out of touch with my values and wants because I had spent so much time hiding them in order to fit in.

Leading from that place has a shelf life.

I’d like to tell you there was one big moment when it all came crashing down or I had some Oscar-worthy realization while crying outside a bar in the rain, but it wasn’t ultimately that dramatic. The descent was slow, the changes were so internal and subtle that I missed most of them — like the rustle of the trees on a fall day, they just became part of my environment. Even once I had hit the bottom, I don’t think I had a full grasp of my own identity crisis until I built myself back up — which leads me to today.

Now that I’m on the other side of some intentional leadership training and self-development work, I see the opportunity for this work to greatly impact the film and television industry at large, specifically when it comes to Producers and Directors.

This year, IATSE, the union that represents the majority of film and television crew members, came very close to an industry-wide strike for the first time in years. Instagram accounts popped up where members could anonymously share their experiences working on set, and the stories were horrible. Excessive working hours without breaks, lost relationships, injury, mental health issues, and more. Shortly after, Cinematographer Halyna Hutchins was tragically killed by a live round on a film set in New Mexico. The phrase “When producers cut costs, people die” began circulating on social media.

I’m a producer, and I fully agree.

Here’s the thing: telling stories is an inherently creative, collaborative, and vulnerable medium. That’s why so many of us gravitate towards it. However, I find that many Producers and leaders in the industry — myself included — can easily forget that in service of “getting the project done on time and on budget”.

We’ve become so hyper-focused on the result of our creativity that we’ve become completely out of touch with the process of creation that we fell in love with in the first place.

I’ve cut corners to prioritize the budget, let behavior or schedules go unchecked, and have been hyper-focused on getting the project done at the exclusion of other priorities. I’ve made mistakes and learned a lot, and will likely continue to do so.

Ultimately, it’s not about me. It’s about how my choice of priorities directly affects, influences, celebrates, harms, or uplifts my employees and collaborators. Because I am the Producer, a leader, that is my responsibility.

As leaders, when we look at a project through the lens of the process, we will value inherently different things than looking at it through the lens of the result. For example, when I think about what’s important in the creative process, I think primarily of the people: do they feel they can be brave, how are we communicating, how are we treating one another, what are the boundaries or working conditions we need to produce our best creative work, etc….

When I think about what’s important in a results-driven process, I think primarily of the product: where can I sell it, when does it need to be done by, how much will it cost, who do I need to hire to get it done, how will I market it, etc…

Those are two very different mindsets. I’d argue that the best Producer strikes a balance between both, and that focusing on the process will almost always produce a better result. However, I’d also argue that the education system — whether its film school or working on set as a PA — does an impressively shit job of teaching that. Sure, we focus a lot on the art or the logistics of what it takes to get a movie done, but we don’t actually talk about the soft skills necessary to work with one another in a high-stress, physically demanding environment.

Crazy idea: what if every film school graduate was trained in communication, leadership skills, conflict mediation, DEI, and a bit of psychology? I’d argue that the on-set environment would dramatically improve.

And while I’m speaking most often to those who self-identify as Producers in this blog post, I’d argue that every filmmaker could benefit from this, especially if you are a department head or have aspirations to be one.

In the independent film scene, this is even more important. You’re often putting together a group of creatives without a ton of experience for an intense six-week period, during which the demands on their work ethic, resilience, and creative vulnerability are extremely high. This is also why we love it: it’s a creative high, like camp for adults, and often times a ton of fun.

We have to remember that many of the Directors and Producers working in the studio system today got their start in independent film. So, the traits they learned early on have likely morphed and informed their current leadership style. And as a result, the working conditions on large studio sets aren’t much better.

So, I leave this with you today. How are YOU leading? Where are YOUR gaps in leadership? Do you need to work on communication, on conflict management, on listening skills? Go out and do that.

Go take a leadership course that has nothing to do with the film and television industry. Better yourself so the creatives you’re leading have the inspiration to do the same.

There’s a whole lot more where this came from. If you like this content, or have an idea for a future blog post or course, shoot me a note. I’d love to hear from you.

With love,
Angie