Unsung Heroes: The Agency Producer

I have few regrets, but when it came to choosing the recipient of the President’s Award the year I was President of D&AD, I chickened out of my first and natural choice - Di Kroll. I regret it. Di is the best producer I have ever worked with, not to mention one of the best Heads of TV any agency has ever had.

I don’t regret the alternative I chose: David Bailey (the first photographer I worked with when I came to London, and someone who D&AD had never awarded in his own right) but when I look back on my motives for not choosing a producer, it makes me squirm to realize I was enacting the traditional creatives’ prejudice and lack of balls instead of going with my true instincts. So why have agency producers seldom if ever garnered the praise, respect and dignity they deserve?

The first reason is that most creatives (and I include myself in this) are jealous children and want all the cash and prizes for themselves. What I love about working with creatives is their innocence, vulnerability and fragile sense of self worth. What drives me mad about them is their inability to play nice and share like mummy told them.

All too often ‘mummy’ is their producer, required to do everything short of wiping their ass, but like all mummies precluded from taking any credit or praise for doing it. You might find it difficult to view some of the great male producers like Arnold Pearce or John Staton as mummies, but believe me it’s not. I’ve been there.

The second myth about agency producers is that they don’t really have creative input. This is bollocks, and behind it once again is creative insecurity. Let me go on record stating that many of the ads I won, Lions, Pencils and Arrows alike, were not just improved by the likes of Maggie Randall, Perry Fry, Mac McArthur and Paul Mezulianick, but co-created by them.

I moved to New York seven years ago, and didn’t like the way producers were siloed. My first talk to the agency stated that I don’t see producers as servants to the creative department, but as members of the creative department, and I genuinely believe this has been a major contributor to Grey moving from winning nothing at Cannes to taking 20 Lions and being the ninth most awarded Cannes agency in the world.

Here’s another old chestnut: agency producers aren’t ‘real producers’ like production company producers. They don’t have ‘real financial responsibilities’ and aren’t entrepreneurial like their production company counterparts. Three words: Sandy, Mary and Martha. Not only were Sandy Scott (formerly Watson), Mary Francis and Martha Greene as fresh, creatively inspired and skillful as any of the famous writers or art directors I’ve worked with, they also had tremendous business heads on their shoulders and went on to be partners running famously successful production companies in Lewin and Watson, Weilands and Stark Films.

One snotty little put down I’ve heard about agency producers is that they are ‘glorified secretaries’, a snide allusion to the fact that many agency producers get into the business as a secretary, often in the broadcast departments. This too is arrant nonsense. One of the most brilliant and sadly almost unique things about the film business is that it’s still built on the apprentice system. Most people serve their time as a runner, a clapper loader or trainee of some kind.

Working as a secretary or assistant is the agency equivalent, and similarly means a thorough and comprehensive schooling from the ground up. My secretary at Publicis, Steph, moved with me to GGT, on to Mellors Reay and then Grey. Long before she joined the TV department, Steph would alert me to cool videos or get me interesting tracks by new bands. In return I would privately discuss promising scripts with her, then take all the credit for her incisive comments and fresh ideas. Of course I may be the only Creative Director who’s done this, but somehow I doubt it.

One of the things the web has taught us is that good ideas can come from anywhere, and I’ve always cared more about the actual idea than who came up with it, especially as if I’m in the room, it’s always me.

Steph became a Senior Producer at Mellors Reay and ended up as Head of Broadcast at Grey. It made me proud and grateful that someone whose intelligence and drive I spotted when she was 21 ended up exactly where she should be – at the top.
In essence, what I’ve always looked for in a producer is a creative partner. Someone who can compensate for my lack of organizational ability, but also give me the confidence and guidance to choose a director that will stretch me, and create an atmosphere in which we’re both prepared to take risks.

I’m not an idiot with money and having directed for a few years I broadly know what a budget will buy, but clever strategic thinking by a good producer can push money where it really makes a difference on the film. On the Holsten shoots Di always managed to find a little extra for the shot that made all the difference, justifying knocking out the big bucks for Jeff Goldbloom and Denis Leary.

Sandy and Mary always came up with unusual and talented directors, and if the shit hit the fan (such as Ridley Scott melting the windows on a 747 for a British Airways shoot) they didn’t melt away in the heat.

There are times when doing a runner is the wisest call a producer can make. On a BP underwater shoot in Martinique, some of the crew turned out to be inter-island drug runners making a bit of spare cash. They were authentic badasses, and although they didn’t like us, they really hated the gay French art director. So much so that they chopped the head off his Old English Sheepdog to teach him a lesson. Feisty Martha went up to them to remonstrate and they replied by (literally) taking a crap in her handbag.

Within 20 minutes Ms Greene had us on a light plane out of there. I remember making a mental note: when the shit really hits the fan (or the handbag), make sure you have a good producer.

Tim Mellors is Global Creative Director and Vice Chairman, Grey