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The Frame

The making of 'Tangerine'; music industry accounting; Tim & Eric's awesome book

Kitana Kiki Rodriguez in "Tangerine," a Magnolia Pictures release.
Kitana Kiki Rodriguez in "Tangerine," a Magnolia Pictures release.
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Augusta Quirk/Magnolia Pictures
)
Listen 24:15
The feature film "Tangerine" (pictured), directed by Sean Baker, was ingeniously shot on an iPhone; a report from the Berklee College of Music calls for transparency in the record business; Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim turn their twisted humor into a parody of a self-help book.
The feature film "Tangerine" (pictured), directed by Sean Baker, was ingeniously shot on an iPhone; a report from the Berklee College of Music calls for transparency in the record business; Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim turn their twisted humor into a parody of a self-help book.

The feature film "Tangerine" (pictured), directed by Sean Baker, was ingeniously shot on an iPhone; a report from the Berklee College of Music calls for transparency in the record business; Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim turn their twisted humor into a parody of a self-help book.

'Tangerine' director finds an unlikely cinematic muse in LA's 'unofficial red light district'

Listen 10:16
'Tangerine' director finds an unlikely cinematic muse in LA's 'unofficial red light district'

Hell hath no fury like a trans-woman scorned in director Sean Baker’s latest film, "Tangerine."

When a transgender working girl named Sin-Dee (played by Kitana "Kiki" Rodriguez) gets out of prison and learns that her boyfriend has been cheating on her, it sets off a series of events that are at times hilarious and tragic. Wrapped up in all the drama is Sin-Dee's best friend Alexandra (Mya Taylor), who also spends part of her time as a prostitute near the intersection of Santa Monica Boulevard and Highland Avenue. 

Note that the video below contains graphic language and scenes. 

The film premiered at Sundance Film Festival earlier this year and was a surprise hit, mainly due to the colorful cast and the fact that it was shot entirely on iPhones. At the helm were both Baker and his co-cinematographer, Radium Cheung.

Made for about $100,000, Baker and his team ran a tight production that had them shooting on busy L.A. streets and running after people for signatures on appearance release forms. Even with the low budget, Baker felt inspired to make the movie in order to portray communities otherwise overlooked by television and film.

"When I moved to Los Angeles about three-and-a-half years ago, I was surprised that there were so many pockets, so many nooks and crannies, so many communities, so many cultures that hadn't been focused on in film and television," said Baker on The Frame.

"When we think of L.A. we think of the Hollywood sign, the Walk of Fame, Beverly Hills and Venice. But there are so many other interesting, amazing locations and [Santa Monica and Highland] was one of them. So I thought there must be incredible stories that can be told there and that occur there on a regular basis. It's basically an unofficial red light district. It's an infamous corner that has been known for this for decades."

Baker and Cheung joined The Frame to talk about the making of "Tangerine":. 

Interview Highlights

One of the things that is certainly noticeable in this film are the locations that you use near this neighborhood. There is a car wash and there is a Donut Time restaurant. Were these businesses that were familiar to you? How did you get them to sign up to be part of the film?



Sean Baker: I had wonderful producers — Darren Dean and Shih-Ching Tsou. We did this film on an extremely low budget and for them to be able to lock down these locations for close to nothing is quite a feat. But I did tell them from the very beginning: "I will not make this film unless you can lock down Donut Time," because it's such a landmark. It's right on the corner of Santa Monica and Highland on the Northeast side. It's sort of a hub. It's where a lot of the working girls from the area used to, and still do, hang out between their jobs.

What was the initial conversation about using iPhones to shoot this film?



SB: It took a lot of convincing, not only of my team and of Radium, but also of myself. This is my fifth feature film. You always work towards getting a bigger budget, getting better cameras, and stuff like that. [With] the state of the industry right now, we're forced to work with a budget that was less than half of the budget of our previous film. Yet we had this treatment that was asking for a lot — multiple locations, exteriors, ensemble cast. We wanted to put all of that money up on the screen. Basically, I'm out of favors. I couldn't shoot on film. I couldn't shoot on higher end cameras.



What got me was when I found this Kickstarter campaign for a company called Moondog Labs. They created an anamorphic adaptor that fits over the iPhone lens. When I saw those tests I thought, This could elevate this to a cinematic level. So, long story short, we shot on the iPhone 5s the entire film. 

Radium, what are the opportunities and obstacles of shooting on that kind of equipment?



Radium Cheung: If it had been anybody else either than Sean who called me and said, "Let's shoot a movie, but we only have a budget for a couple of phones to shoot it on," I would have said, Get the f*** out of here. Dead serious. What really convinced me — it took a while, like Sean said, to convince himself and the team — were these lenses. They actually allow the phone to capture in anamorphic, squeezed images. Much like an anamorphic lens on a real camera. That really elevated the look of the film. It really brought this film up to a different level than what you would expect from a mobile phone movie. 

One of the things that also is remarkable about this film are the actors you got in the lead roles. Kitana and Mya. Sean, can you talk about casting them, where you found them, and what they brought to the performance in terms of creating the characters of Sin-Dee and Alexandra?



SB: I am a white, straight male. I'm not from this world whatsoever that we're focusing on. So we knew that the only way to do this correctly, responsibly and respectfully was to find a consultant — and not just a consultant, a true collaborator. That was Mya Taylor. Who knew that she was also going to be an amazing performer? We found her one morning hanging out in the courtyard of the LGBT Center, which is basically about a block away from this intersection. We exchanged contact information and we started hanging out on a regular basis. That was sort of our research process.



She would actually tell us stories, anecdotes and stuff that she knew from the area because she had friends who had worked the streets. She witnessed first-hand a lot of the stories that eventually made their way into the movie. About three weeks in she brought Kiki to the table. Kiki sat next to Mya and I saw the two of them together and I thought, Wow, the dynamic duo! They contrast each other, but they compliment each other. They really have this wonderful interaction. I thought, We're going to write two characters for these two women to play.

Who introduced you to the idea that a car wash is not just for washing cars?



SB: Well, that is funny. For about 20 years I have wanted to shoot a scene in a car wash. I didn't know what it was going to be, but I always wanted to do a take in a car wash in which something happens in that car. Maybe it is what happens in "Tangerine," or maybe it's a mob hit. I never had the opportunity to do this until when we were actually discussing these things with Mya and Kiki.



Mya actually mentioned that some of her friends took [clients] to the local car was because it would give them five or six minutes of complete and utter privacy.  If they didn't have time or the money to rent a hotel room, the car wash was their way of completely isolating themselves. I thought, Thank you Mya, now I have the opportunity to shoot the scene I have always wanted to shoot.

What were the mechanics of shooting it? Did you end up with an incredibly clean car after five or six takes, or were you able to get it quickly?



SB: Only two takes. I was very happy with the performance. It was very simple. It was one shot. We shot it — maybe Radium can speak more about this — at the right time. 



RC: One of the many good things about shooting in Los Angeles is that you can count on the sun. You look at your app on your phone and it tells you what time the sun will be where and you show up at that time and the sun is there. The technicality of it was very, very simple. Just Sean sitting it in the backseat holding the phone and then you have our two performers in the front.



SB: And our wonderful sound recordist, Irin Strauss, who is six-foot-five, in the trunk of the car. It was a rented cab so I don't think it was properly watertight. It wasn't sealed. He was in a puddle by the end of the second take.



RC: The car was very clean afterward.  

I want to ask about the fight on the bus. How did you pull that shot off?



SB: In that particular case there was the first part of the scene that was — I guess you could call it violent. It was a semi-fight going on in the bus. First off, I'm focused on the monitor. I'm not looking around, and neither is Radium. The bus pulls over and we just assumed we were at a stop, but they were pulled over for a little bit too long. I started to realize that something was up. I looked up and said, "The bus isn't pulled over because of us, is it?" A passenger turned around and looked at me and said, "Yeah, not only that, but they're calling the police." So we scattered into the night. 



RC: From the front of the bus you could imagine some people in the back and these two girls kind of slapping each other. It wasn't very violent — that is the wrong word to use — it was just commotion in the back. Being responsible, the driver pulled over and we didn't realize. We kept shooting and kept waiting for the bus to move. We thought it was a red light. We thought it was a stop and then, like Sean said, after a while we kind of stopped and realized something was up.



They're calling the police. We all ran. We literally all ran out of the bus. We went in different directions and we had to call each other and converge somewhere. The good thing about that is we ended up at a place we never expected to be — a certain corner where Sean noticed this amazing graffiti mural. We shot a very nice shot just tracking back from that wall. So that was a blessing in disguise. But it was really funny that night. We felt like young kids getting in trouble. 

Sean, let me ask you this last question. Television has really taken a lead role in presenting stories about transgender characters. I am thinking about "Orange is the New Black," "Sense8" and "Transparent." It seems like movies are catching up a little bit, and certainly "Tangerine" is in that category. What do you hope all of these stories can show audiences about this world? Specifically, what do you hope audiences can take away from "Tangerine"?



SB: It's a wonderful thing what has happened in the last year. Awareness and visibility have grown substantially. When we set down this road two-and-a-half years ago, we really did not know it was going to be as much of a part of the zeitgeist as it is now. My hope is that people just see this as one of many stories that can be told about the movement. But this is of course not about the trans movement, this is about one microcosm, a sub, sub-culture of the movement and of the community. If anything, this just will add to further awareness. The way we approached our film — you could basically call this film a comedy — this is entertainment.



My hope is that the audiences will connect and identify enough with our two leads that they might take it further, do their homework, explore and know more about — just take it upon themselves to learn more about the movement. What's distressing to me is that with all this awareness that is growing, there is so far still to go. The murder rate of trans people in the United States has increased 13 percent this year alone. There is still an incredible amount of change to happen. Hopefully, this is just one of many stories. This is just the beginning of us telling many diverse stories of different parts of the trans community. 

The truth behind Tim and Eric's 'Zone Theory'

Listen 6:39
The truth behind Tim and Eric's 'Zone Theory'

Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim have a comedy style that’s not for everyone: It’s awkward, bizarre and a little disturbing. But the duo reached cult status with their Comedy Central after-hours show, “Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!”

H'amb

And with that success, the duo decided to write a book. It’s titled “Tim & Eric’s Zone Theory: 7 Easy Steps To Achieve A Perfect Life.” The book is a parody of “self help” books and controversial spiritual beliefs like Scientology.

Zone Theory

Tim and Eric spoke with The Frame's John Horn about how Los Angeles inspired them to write this book, their unique comedy style, and how they get worn out from being in character. 

What kind of research went into writing this book?



Tim Heidecker: We did send an assistant to the Goodwill to pick up a number of these books because that is where they generally all end up.

They do their help and people toss them? It's kind like elliptical trainers that have two miles on them.



Eric Wareheim: Yeah, I ordered something — I can't remember the name of it — but it was basically a lot of recipes of different herbs and natural Eastern medicines for a new age diet, which sort of inspired us. But, to be honest, we didn't really want to base it off of any of that stuff. It's more fun just to create our own universe.

You guys are also part of Hollywood, which is obsessed with what we'll call "alternative" spiritual or food practices. Did you come across those types of people and did that start to shape how you wanted to present the characters in this book?



EW: Yes of course. Just moving to this city you get overwhelmed with people that are involved in all of those things — even some friends. Even some things that we do. Other people in other cities would laugh at us for juice cleansing and doing meditation. All of our comedies come from where we are and Los Angeles has really pushed us to make fun of those things.



TH: My wife works for the Transcendental Meditation center.

Did you have conversations about whether or not this was a little close to home or does she go with the joke?



TH: Hah! Yes, it's all good.

The book is clearly ridiculous. There are chapters designated to help you with specific things like writing a poem, specific diets where you only eat white foods, and recipes that include red bricks and a bag of cotton balls. Are all those chapters kind of grounded in specific truths about self-help as well?



EW: If you look at Scientology, they're obsessed with taking these old memories and getting them out of your head so you won't have this distress. In our Zone Theory, we believe that you have this anxiety and depression because poems are locked deep in there and we'll teach you simple steps of hypnosis to unlock hundreds of thousands of poems to make you a better person.



TH: Yeah. Part of a comedy principle I suppose is having this counterpoint of when you say something is easy, and then [when] you actually talk about what is easy about it, it's incredibly complicated and horrific. That should technically be considered funny to some people.



EW: Yeah, on the title it says, "Seven Easy Steps" — and once you start reading what you have to do in these zones, it's a nightmare.

One of the things that is kind of key to your comedy is timing. On your TV shows, your shots stay a little bit too long, zooming in on people at awkward moments. How do you take that visual style and bring it to something that is relatively static, like a book?



TH: That is a good question. We worked with our longtime designer that we've had on for a lot of our DVDs,  posters and stuff. We also had our guy that would do a lot of our graphic stuff on the shows. So there is this mix of beautiful design in the book that goes way beyond just a self-help parody book. It's kind of meant for the book to be an aesthetically pleasing experience. Then there are images of people's faces, charts or graphs that are meant to be kind of grotesque and unsettling.



EW: I also think the pacing of the actual writing of it is similar to all of our video work. We've been going around the country doing these healing seminars where we read from the book. It is an example of length. Of hitting a joke way too many times and going too far into the darkness where it makes people uncomfortable and the laughter builds until the end.

So is the audience at the reading in character as well?



TH: They're playing along. We do chanting and hymns and things like that.

Ultimately, like any good piece of comedy, there is a certain amount of truth in all of this.



EW: Absolutely. Scientologists have the E-meter and Zone Theorists have a diarrhea dipstick. There is a direct joke on what people are really doing everyday to get better.

How did working on this book actually change the way you looked at future projects? Did it kind of raise some ideas for things that you could do in the future, either as a book, as a skit, video or TV?



EW: I think it taught us that we're going to write a much shorter book next time.

How long were you working on it?



TH: A couple years. Maybe three years since we got the idea. It really was a thing that was hard to get into. With a TV show you're getting immediate results — shooting it, watching it and doing it with other people. This felt like a total mess until it was absolutely finished.

Eric, is this the book you thought you guys were going to end up writing when you started this project so long ago?



EW: Yeah it's way above what we started out to do. I'm pretty proud of it.



TH: Yeah. The book is meant to be enjoyed as a book, make you laugh when go through it, and make you think about some things of course. Ultimately, we're going to have fun distancing ourselves from it immediately. The second [phase] of the book promotion is going, Well, I don't know if you want to do all these things... Then, over the next several months I'll probably introduce my full retraction from the book. Just this joke of throwing everything under the bus.

 “Tim & Eric’s Zone Theory: 7 Easy Steps To Achieve A Perfect Life” is in bookstores now.

Berklee College report spotlights lack of transparency in the music industry

Listen 6:07
Berklee College report spotlights lack of transparency in the music industry

The song "Cheerleader" by the singer OMI is at the top of the new Billboard Hot 100 chart, but whether you've got the biggest hit in the country or you're just an artist starting out, you'd like to think you'll be properly paid for your music.

You might be wrong.

A new 29-page report from the Berklee College of Music titled, "Transparency and Money Flows in the Music Industry," says: "Anywhere from 20 to 50 percent of music payments don't make it to their rightful owners."  

Panos Panay, managing director of the Institute for Creative Entrepreneurship at Berklee College of Music, spoke with The Frame's John Horn to discuss the year-long study that led to the report.

What was the impetus for your institute to take on this study?



Well, every year we graduate some 800 new alumni that go into the industry. For years, as a college we saw our job as primarily developing their skills as musicians, but they're graduating and going into an industry that is vastly different from the one that I graduated into about 20-plus years ago. We feel that guiding them towards understanding the way that the money flows, and the way that they will be compensated, is absolutely critical and I would say central to our mission as an institution.

The rules of the game are changing by the minute and I'm curious if performers have believed for decades that they haven't always received the money they're owed. Technology and streaming has really exacerbated that, is that fair?



That's fair. It has both exacerbated it, but also presents us with interesting opportunities for remedying a lot of things. I feel that in many ways, given the technology that we have in 2015, a lot of the issues that the industry is facing and is challenged with just simply should not be there.

So you were studying, I assume, separate revenue streams for things like radio airplay, TV and film royalties, album sales and streaming. Are you looking at that whole pot of money? If it's coming in, where is it getting funneled away?



We started by asking, Are the popular narratives that are out there about the music industry correct? If you ask anybody on the street they'll tell you a few things: first, consumers aren't willing to pay money for music; second, the music industry is in decline; third, the streaming services are killing it. So we said, Let's figure out if this is true.



We looked at money flows from all different revenue streams, including what they call "interactive" and "non-interactive" online services — including money from traditional broadcast radio, from TV licensing, and other sources of income from creators. We also focused quite a bit on online services as that is increasingly becoming the primary way consumers access their music today, and is by all accounts the future of music consumption.

You also studied something called "the black box." It sounds ominous and it has nothing to do with the flight recorder on an airplane. What is the black box? How does money that should be getting to the artist end up there?



It's a name that, even though I've been in the music industry for 20-odd years, I had never heard myself. This is effectively a [collection] of funds that normally should've been distributed to artists. Often it's kept by the major record labels. A good example is money that streaming services — like Spotify — will pay as an advance to a particular label in order to access its catalogue. Even though it's leveraged the assets of its recording artists in order to get that advance, none of it necessarily makes it back to the artist.



There's also quite a lot of controversy about the fact that a lot of the traditional big players on the label side actually have ownership stakes in the streaming services, which they get precisely because they are the administrators or the owners of the large catalog of music. But when services are sold, such as Beats to Apple, or eventually go public, such as the much anticipated IPO of Spotify, none of that money generated ever makes it back to the artists. Given how the industry has changed, given modern music consumption habits, given technology — there is a whole lot of infrastructure there that hasn’t quite shifted along with it.

Spotify issued a statement about the report saying, “We’re big believers in transparency and think it’s key to building a new music economy that pays artists and songwriters fairly.” The Recording Industry Association of America, the trade organization for record companies, said, “We support efforts to ensure all music creators are paid fairly and efficiently for their work and we look forward to reading the report.”