A Film Maker’s Lesson in Art of Persuasion

Mild-mannered, doe-eyed Dror Soref, relaxing in the Paramount commissary, explained one day recently how he had spent the last 18 months as the Pied Piper of Hollywood, charming the executives of the film industry into backing his modest, not-for-profit project proposal.

“The master plan was to include everybody ,” he said pointedly. “I wanted to get everybody in town excited about donating something to the production or post-production. Anything--doughnuts, film stock, a dolly, whatever. They just had to want to contribute.”

His “master plan” was aimed toward finishing “Platinum Blonde,” a 30-minute children’s film that Soref wrote and visualized while doing assistant director and production manager work on other projects for other people.

The immediate problem for “Platinum Blonde” to overcome was no production money, and no agreement with any distributor for any.

“This was not a small problem,” Soref conceded.

Nevertheless, as 1987 ended, the 36-year-old Israeli had an office on the Paramount lot, a couple of deals in the works, a handful of press clippings, and--perhaps most important--his name was known around town.

His solution to the no-money dilemma? Make the film under the auspices of a nonprofit group and get everything to make the film contributed as a charitable donation. Soref wound up making the film under the auspices of two nonprofit groups: the Fine Arts Commission for Abused Children and the National Assn. for Alcoholic Children.

And he talked more than 50 individuals, companies and corporations--from Paramount Pictures to the Gardena YMCA--into chipping in time, materials and labor toward the completion of “Platinum Blonde.”

Armed with only a three-minute preview clip (on video) and a manageable dream, Soref penetrated many of the industry’s more inner sanctums. (Soref financed the production of the clip--about $3,200--with his savings.)

“I am still not quite sure what I said that worked so well . . . I am very serious,” said Soref. “I certainly said the same thing to everybody. ‘I know you are a very busy person, but I really need your help to get this nonprofit film done.’ And so on, tailored a bit for each instance. I never promised them anything but a screen credit and my deepest thanks. Because that’s all I could offer them . . . that and the feeling that they’d be doing something.”

The altruistic aspect of Soref’s pitch was the least effective, according to several of the participants interviewed. What hooked them, in general, was the promise of the film maker and his fairly extensive production background (several production manager credits, a commercial, and other post-production work).

That, and the companies’ desire to join in the project.

Ben Cowitt, vice president of studio operations at Walt Disney Studios, said the subject matter--the struggles of a teen-age couple to gain independence from alcoholic or indifferent parents--was appropriate enough for Disney to get on board and contribute the use of the studios’ lot for the outdoor filming. But there was something else, too.

“Dror had lined up an amazing volunteer crew for this little picture, and once we found out who else was aboard, we decided we wanted in too,” Cowitt said. “None of us were really sure what the final result would be, but we had confidence it would be professional. We saw that in the clip . . . and in the presentation.”

“I was amazed Disney would let me have the run of the place to shoot,” Soref said, adding that the Disney people made many of the union arrangements for him as well. “A large part of my anxiety went away after that happened.”

Well, not really. Soref said keeping the donated goods and services flowing into the project--in addition to actually making a film--was a 20-hour-a-day job.

“I kept a diagram in my head of where different stuff was coming from,” Soref said. “What I kept written down was who I had dealt with, and when it was supposed to arrive.”

Such a ball of logistics could not have started rolling unless Soref--more or less an industry unknown with no appreciable track record as a director--got some king-size help at the outset. Soref says he knew some people who could help, but none who could initiate the project.

Enter Lions Gate Studios executive Tex Rudloff.

“Guys like him need a serious break in this town--there’s no real way in the first time around,” said Rudloff, a show-business veteran of more than 30 years. “If I can, I’ll help folks like Dror out. But I can’t say yes all the time, not even 10% of the time. I got a business to run here.”

But Rudloff, whose outfit supplied “Platinum Blonde” with sound production and post-production, added that there was something unique about Soref’s pitch.

“He was real patient (and) didn’t treat me like I was holding him up or something,” Rudloff recalled. “I checked him out thoroughly, believe me. And his goals were modest; he had one little project he wanted help on, and that for charities. It wasn’t like he was making the next ‘Star Wars’ trilogy. He was modest and very realistic.”

“Everyone always tells you ‘You gotta think big in this town,’ ” Soref said, puffing out his chest and waving an imaginary cigar. “But I think those days are gone; you have to be very cost-conscious. By emphasizing the manageability of the project, I got more people to listen, I think.”

Especially after Rudloff’s commitment, CFI Lab’s Jerry Virnig and Cowitt got involved. The more character references Soref got, the easier it was to get other people to go along.

“It really wasn’t a matter of being charming or painting pictures,” Soref said. “What it was is that here was a nice little project, with good-deed qualities attached, that I needed help with. The sincerity people say they saw in me was there all along; that I got a development deal out of it (with several independent production entities) was sheer good fortune, honestly.”

Six days later, at “Platinum Blonde’s” “premiere screening” (although it had been shown at least 30 times before, to various groups of people--including the two children’s groups), Soref worked the room before the film started. He thanked this producer and greeted that post-production supervisor. As the film began, he closed the door to the screening room.

“That’s the hardest part, right there,” Soref would said. “Keeping the lines of communication open without becoming annoying. Believe me: making another ‘Gone with the Wind’ is a snap compared to making sure people remember your name.”