I've made about $427 dollars as a film actor in Wisconsin. That was last year. And I'm probably being generous on the total paycheck.
No, I didn't get rich off of my film career last year in Wisconsin because of the sweet tax incentives offered to film makers deciding to give Wisconsin a try.
Perhaps there weren't as many legions of actors and technicians cashing in on their movie money last year here in the land we used to proudly call one of Dairy (I think California beats us on that now) to make keeping the film tax incentives in the state budget part of our taxpaying life. No, we aren't the coke snorting, botox injecting lot that roam the Hollywood hills.
But that's no reason to take away our tax incentive Governor Doyle.
You may have heard that the Wisconsin tax incentives are going bye-bye in Governor Doyle's proposed "we need to fix this big hairy deficit" budget. He's saying things about using the money for better things in these troubled times. What better things are there than films? All we need is a Jimmy Stewart backing this effort, and the world would know stand up and say, "True dat!"
I really can't get into the economic argument about keeping the film tax incentives. It bores me, but if you want proof of the economic impact of the film industry on Wisconsin citizens, I can show you my meager pay stubs. It ain't much, but it bought a few Grilled Cheese Sandwiches at the Wisconsin State Fair, if you know what I mean.
I think you should help save the Wisconsin film tax incentives. No doubt.
Arts Wisconsin has some great ways to get involved in this battle. And it is going to be a battle, no doubt. Our arts and creativity loving Lieutenant Governor Barbie Lawton (bless her heart) can't do it alone. We all have to pitch in for the creative industries to thrive in Wisconsin right now.
My reasons for wanting the tax incentives to stick are really personal. You might even call these reasons petty, and unimportant. But I disagree. They ultimately are parts of the reason I choose to stay in Wisconsin and continue to pay my taxes and buy stuff rather than fleeing to some other place when my wife lost her job and I was faced with the prospect of actually having to "work for the man" again. Come to find out, I like working for the man, and I really like doing it in Wisconsin.
I have to admit, I'm not crazy about the current tax incentives. They're actually not aggressive enough. If we were daring enough to be even more supportive of attracting film to the state, we'd really ramp things up. And it wouldn't hurt you or your neighbor, promise.
My personal reasons for wanting the tax incentives to stay have to do with a couple of really eye opening experiences this past summer on the low budget flicks
NO NAMES (written and directed by
Kathy Lindboe) and
MOTEL, GAS STATION which I now see from IMDb has been retitled BARABOO (written and directed by the glorious
Mary Sweeney who I am proud to say I have a huge talent crush on and I don't care who knows it, even Mary). These eye opening moments had less to do with film, and more to do with a new appreciation I have for creativity in our state and the people who support it. The brass tacks answer also is that I love my state more now because a couple of film makers who decided to work here showed me that our people and places rock harder than they even deserve to rock. So hard, that they should be constantly filmed. See where I'm going with this?
I got work in these films like I get all my theater work. I was the second choice. I have made a fairly steady career out of being the guy they call when the guy they really want doesn't work out. I have no problem with this, and since I'm not a complete asshole and am usually grateful for any work, I end up making a decent impression for all the rest of the "second choice" dudes out there I feel I sometimes represent.
I was called a couple of days before they needed to shoot a scene involving a cop for
NO NAMES. I had forgotten about the film as I had been the first person in Milwaukee to audition for
Kathy Lindboe, the writer and director. Being the first, first thing in the morning, I was performing before the poor woman had her first sip of morning coffee. I thought I had just passed into the ether, until I got a last minute call asking if I could go to Wisconsin Rapids for an overnight stay this past August. I knew I was the second choice because when I went to the
NO NAMES website to check out what was happening another guy was listed as the actor playing my role. Weaker men would squirm at this realization, but weaker men also don't have new shoes and are able to eat out once in a while because they have a problem being the second best guy for the job.
I had one day of shooting with
James Badge Dale, the star of the film. Badge, as everyone called him, was a fine fellow, great hair, and a superb smirk. It was my job to wear a cop's uniform and tell him to stay out of trouble. I hit my mark, thanked everyone who I played with that day, and didn't make a mess out of anything from the catering services. All in all it was a truly pleasant day on the set. But more than that, it was a marvelous day in my state.
The night I had arrived at the hotel they were putting me up in before the day of my shoot, one of the film's producers gave me a tip that I cherish to this day. He told me, "If you're looking for a good breakfast, go to The Little Pink Restaurant." This is The Little Pink Restaurant.
This is the cow out in front of The Little Pink Restaurant.
Sadly, the Little Pink Restaurant was closed for the day by the time I found it in the shadow of a Wisconsin Rapids paper mill. But somehow that didn't matter. As I walked the perimeter of the restaurant, full of awe over the outdoor menagerie of plaster dogs, bunny and whispering children protecting this tried and true greasy spoon, I realized how little of my state I had really come to know over my close to 35 years of living here.
I have never had aspirations of spending time in Wisconsin Rapids, and a trip to the exterior of The Little Pink Restaurant is not making me put a FOR SALE sign in front of my Bay View home so I can find a cozy split level within walking distance of the mill in Wisco Rapo. But it's the little intangibles about going to new places in your own home state that really add up to that whole quality-of-life argument. I'm pretty damned happy I live in a state where a couple of old timers sling hash in a building painted the color of Pepto Bismal. There's something comforting about being surrounded by those kind of folk. You know where you stand with a restaurateur with that kind of eye for design.
If Wisconsin Film Experience Number One for me this summer was all about The Little Pink Restaurant, then Wisconsin Film Experience Number Two was all about getting stung by a bee.
I got myself into
Mary Sweeney's film
BARABOO the only decent way I knew how. I begged. I had auditioned for the role of a 40-year-old dim witted man/child in the film, but had been kindly turned down. This was a shocker. I always assumed that I was the leading dim witted 40-year-old man/child in my sphere of being. Turns out there are others more dim witted than I. Who knew.
But I still had an inkling that groveling to work on the film would be somehow good. At the time a friend of mine and I had started to write film and television scripts as a collaborative exercise in creativity. Actually, it turned into more of a collaborative exercise in watching episodes of MAD MEN on iTunes and dreaming of being inhumane enough to smoke and drink as much as Don Draper. Still, I convinced myself that a career working in film was something I was destined to pursue. So, pursue it I did.
I called my agent and said, "Listen, I know
Mary Sweeney didn't cast me in her film, but could you see if I could just go and observe it some day?" I thought I could learn a few tricks about the film biz. I mean
Mary Sweeney had been around film for a long time, had edited bunches of David Lynch movies, and wrote THE STRAIGHT STORY, one of my all time favorite movies about life and living. If I could just weasel my way onto that set, I knew I would gain some important insight.
The insight I gained is that bee stings hurt like a motherfucker.
Mary Sweeney very sweetly told my agent that it was fine for me to observe, but if I was game, she would be happy to put me in one of the small roles in the film. I lept at the chance knowing that this proposition not only was ripe for insight, but there would also be a couple of bucks involved.
On my day on the film, while waiting in a field outside a general store/pizza parlor/one pump gas station somewhere South of Madison, I was stung by a huge whopper of a bee. I would like to believe that had this happened in Hollywood or Toronto or New York City, the film making group would have just gone about their business without regard for me and the real possibility of red and scaly hives. But this is not what you get when you're an actor working on a film in Wisconsin. You get many strokes, much ground up wisdom on the proper treatment of bee stings, and the satisfaction that good people surround you in our state.
That's the type of quality experience you get from a Wisconsin film crew. A film crew made up mostly of volunteer labor from UW-Madison who had come out to work on this project because a "real deal" kind of film maker like
Mary Sweeney had said, "Hey, we're hanging here all summer and making us some movie magic." A film crew composed of Wisconsin men and women eager to call their home state a creative mecca.
That film crew tended to the stinger in my neck, and treated me kindly as I did my sneaky little 10 second job in the movie. I wanted to stick around and buy them all a beer once my shooting was complete, but I had to turn back and find my way back to Milwaukee.
Along the way, I saw my state for the first time. Did you know we've got some of the nicest rolling hills around? Yes, we may have more fat people hanging out in Wisconsin that California, but I find those people imminently more interesting.
So, too, do filmmakers struggling to stay above the fray and make moving pictures in Wisconsin. Dollars to dollars I don't know if anything adds up yet. But we can't always talk dollars to dollars. Let's remember the bigger picture.
This Wisconsin Film Tax Incentive is an important thing to save because it reminds us of the people we are, and the stories we want to tell. We need to keep encouraging film industry folk to say, "I want to shoot my movie in Wisconsin."
I hope the organized effort to keep the film tax incentives in tact works. I'll be waiting by the phone for everyone's first pick to turn down the job. I'm ready to be a part of Wisconsin's film movement, but more than anything my $472 paycheck for films made in Wisconsin has made me more ready than ever to be a part of Wisconsin.
Please Governor Doyle:
SAVE THE WISCONSIN FILM TAX INCENTIVES. It may not make sense today, but we'll be happy that we did something tomorrow.
That's Peter Blewett reading to a kid. And what you're seeing right now is one good guy who believes that kids should have a great education.
