System Is Still needed to Protect Screenwriters in Hollywood : Arbitration Is the Way to Go

In Robert W. Welkos’ article “ ‘Cable,’ ‘Rock’ in Disputes on Writing Credits” (Calendar, May 21), Michael Bay, director of “The Rock,” attacks the arbitration system the Writers Guild of America uses to determine screen-writing credits. An open letter Bay wrote is quoted:

“I have more intimate firsthand knowledge of the evolution of this screenplay [“The Rock”] than any individual involved in the project with the exception of producer Jerry Bruckheimer. Thus, I can confidently, knowledgeably state that this result [the arbitrated screenwriting credit] is a sham, a travesty.”

As a Writers Guild member who’s read up on his show business history, I can confidently, knowledgeably state that the guild arbitration system exists precisely because of people like Bay.

The Screenwriters Guild, precursor of today’s Writers Guild, was formed in 1933 largely because of studios, producers, stars and directors who toyed with screenwriters’ credits. A writer’s screen credit depended upon the largess of those in power. Often, credit was given where it was due, but sometimes a studio head or producer would deal out screenplay credits like playing cards. The names of secretaries, bookies and brothers-in-law could appear next to the name of the legitimate author or even replace the real screenwriter entirely.

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In 1941, the guild won the right to arbitrate screen and, later, television credits. Writers trusted other writers to do the job, devising a system where three of their peers--writers, not directors or producers--review the various drafts of a script submitted for arbitration and render a judgment of authorship. Throughout this process, the three arbiters remain anonymous. In Welkos’ article, attorney Robert Marshall complains about this fact: “The names of the arbitrators are not revealed. . . . Everything is directed toward preventing accountability. . . .”

Everything is directed toward preventing retribution. Since Hollywood is a town not known for its tenderness, few writers would judge an arbitration without the guarantee of anonymity. Even in the recent vote to change the guidelines of the guild’s arbitration system (changes that were soundly defeated by the membership), the issue of anonymity was never challenged.

As a guild member who has judged arbitrations, and as a writer who has both won and lost them, I understand the feelings of disappointment when a storyteller is suddenly cut adrift from the story. But a real examination of the guild’s arbitration guidelines reveals the subtleties of this process. Authorship, according to the guild’s guidelines, does not mean just rewriting scenes or changing dialogue--even every word of dialogue. It means fundamentally altering the dramatic structure and characterizations found in the original script.

Writers who also produce share a sense of irony about the issue of screen credit. They’ve seen directors who follow cinematographers about, letting them design shot after shot. They’ve seen stars direct themselves, ignoring the director’s notes . . . and they’ve wondered what would happen if cinematographers and actors began vying for directorial credits. I believe directors--especially successful ones like Bay--would find themselves constructing an arbitration system similar to the Writers Guild’s.

Churchill once said: “. . . Democracy is the worst form of government except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.” A writer who’s lost a credit arbitration might do well to remember this quote--and a little bit of show business history--before filing suit against the Writers Guild.