Bye Bye Blackburn
After little more than two years in office, Marsha Blackburn has resigned as executive director of the Tennessee Film, Entertainment, and Music Commission. Her successor is Anne Pope, an East Tennessee businesswoman and former entertainment lawyer, who assumes the post in August. Currently president of The Parks Group, a Kingsport family-investment company and real-estate concern, Pope has experience both in management and in intellectual-property law, which should serve her well. Like Blackburn, however, her experience with film is limited—a point sure to raise controversy in the local film industry.
Blackburn’s tenure with TFEMC has drawn mixed reviews. On her watch last year, the state generated a record $4.6 billion in music, TV, film, and other entertainment production. Colleagues credit Blackburn, a bigwig in Republican politics in Middle Tennessee, with restructuring the commission, encouraging the development of new city film offices, and exploring interactive media—all the while keeping operating costs 15 percent under budget last year. And her political savvy and ambition were valuable tools for a state commissioner, whose clout depends on access to the governor.
However, from the day Blackburn took office, local film and video professionals worried that her lack of knowledge about the movie industry was a liability. Since Blackburn was appointed by Gov. Don Sundquist in February 1995—a move that some regarded as a reward for supporting Sundquist’s gubernatorial campaign—production of major-studio features and movies-of-the-week has dwindled in Middle Tennessee. Many of these storms were brewing before Blackburn arrived. Still, rightly or wrongly, members of Nashville’s film industry complain that Blackburn hasn’t done enough to promote the area’s crew depth, available equipment, or locally produced features.
The problem may be that everyone has mistaken ideas about what a film commission does and doesn’t do. “Too much is expected of the film commission,” explained a local filmmaker last week. A film commission doesn’t help secure financing or link producers with investors; a film commission doesn’t work to generate projects. What a film commission does is lure funded projects by offering the greatest number of incentives: locations that match the script’s requirements; assurances of crew and equipment resources; competitive rates from police and other municipal services; references from past producers. Even intangibles such as hospitality, familiarity with a filmmaker’s work, and promptly returned calls register strongly.
Furthermore, a state film commission differs from a local film commission. In Tennessee, the state commission, which answers to the governor, oversees film as well as music; that demands both broader duties and increased sensitivity to big-picture issues. A city film commission like Nashville’s or Memphis’, however, deals with the nuts and bolts of production requirements—getting streets blocked off, using city facilities—while making everyone feel appreciated. These are areas in which a mayor’s influence is needed more than a governor’s.
But in a business where contacts are everything, the longer a good film commissioner stays in office, state or city, the more likely the chances are for repeat business and building word of mouth. Linn Sitler, who has print, broadcast, and film experience, has been head of the Memphis Tape & Film Commission for more than 10 years; it’s no coincidence that major-studio productions keep coming there to film. Two big-budget features alone—The People vs. Larry Flynt and the upcoming The Rainmaker—pumped $13 million into Memphis’ economy in the past year. That’s twice the amount that every feature film in Nashville combined generated in the past 12 months.
This is why turning a film commissioner’s job into a political football is a stupid idea. By the time a new commissioner has made some contacts and gotten some experience, the position is turned over to someone else—and the networking process starts over from zero.
To her credit, Pope plans to spend the next month learning the ropes of the job from Blackburn, for whom she has high praise, and meeting with the local entertainment industry. “You can come in to something you don’t know much about and learn,” says Pope, whose film experience is limited to her work as an associate attorney with a Washington, D.C., law firm. She’ll also be keeping a close watch on pending copyright legislation. While she hasn’t set any specific goals yet, she says she intends to “keep the industry we have and help the industry grow.”
Judging from the experience of Tennessee’s recent film commissioners, the one thing Anne Pope shouldn’t expect is a smooth ride. “Nobody calls up the film commissioner to say thanks when they get work,” observes Linn Sitler with a chuckle. “But we get the blame if they don’t get hired.”
