The Evolving Role of the Producer

By Rebecca Green

I don’t know if there was ever a time when a producer could just produce, but I do know that time is not now.

Once, maybe we could partner with a filmmaker, raise a little money, make a low budget movie, premiere at a festival, and have our film distributed.

Then maybe we had to do all that and also shoot behind-the-scenes footage and interviews with cast and crew to create DVD “extras” to boost home video sales.

Then maybe digital cameras emerged, so we had to learn new technology, phase out film processes we’d spent years mastering, and retrain our crews on camera equipment that changed every six months.

Then maybe states started competing for production with tax incentives, so we had to learn complicated application processes, tax structures, and how to navigate bureaucracies in multiple jurisdictions to make our budgets work.

Then maybe no one would greenlight a script without proof of concept, so we had to shoot short films on our own dime to prove we could execute the vision.

Then maybe grants and fellowships became a viable funding path, so we had to write dozens of applications, learning the language of impact and community engagement and cultural relevance, tailoring each application to each foundation’s specific mission statement.

Then maybe fiscal sponsorship and nonprofit structures became necessary to access certain funding, so we had to learn 501(c)(3) regulations, donor management, and how to run a nonprofit.

Then maybe social media platforms launched and we had to have 10,000 friends on Facebook to be considered relevant.

Then maybe pitch decks became the industry standard, so we had to become graphic designers, learning Canva and Keynote, creating lookbooks that made our projects seem legitimate enough to be taken seriously.

Then maybe investors wanted more sophisticated financial projections to go with those pitch decks, so we had to master financing deal memos, waterfall projections, and comparable analyses, becoming experts on market research despite a lack of access to data.

Then maybe crowdfunding platforms like Kickstarter and Indiegogo emerged, so we had to shoot pitch videos, create backer rewards, learn fulfillment logistics, and write daily updates thanking every donor for keeping our dream alive with their $25.

Then maybe the traditional distribution apparatus began to collapse, so we had to learn theatrical booking, publicity, marketing, and turning every screening into an experience because that was the only way audiences would leave their homes.

Then maybe awards campaigns became essential for any film to break through, so we had to manage screener portals, write FYC copy, buy ads, court voters, doing the work that studios used to do with entire departments.

Then maybe once we had success, we were asked to speak on panels and guest lecture at film schools, so we had to learn public speaking and how to teach because we were expected to give back.

Then maybe we had to do all that and also take day jobs to pay our bills because producer fees dwindled and backend payouts disappeared and no one paid us for those speaking or teaching gigs.

Then maybe production costs in the U.S. became prohibitive, so we had to learn global film incentives, running budgets across different countries, navigating international tax law and currency exchange.

Then maybe indie distributors started going bankrupt and taking our films with them, so we had to learn bankruptcy law, how to file claims, how to try to recover our work from companies that no longer existed.

Then maybe piracy exploded online, so we had to become copyright vigilantes, scouring the internet for stolen versions of our films, sending DMCA takedowns that went ignored, watching our work uploaded and streamed for free.

Then maybe generative AI platforms like Sora and Runway launched, training their databases on our screenplays, our visuals, our voices, but we had to learn the platforms anyway out of fear of being left behind or replaced.

Then maybe YouTube became its own ecosystem, so we had to become known personalities there too, testing our audience, building a subscriber base, and proving ourselves before Hollywood gatekeepers would look our way.

Then maybe we had to band together to stop corporate monopolies from dismantling the entire industry formerly known as Hollywood.

Then maybe while we were doing all of this, the goal post kept moving, the rules kept changing, and the infrastructure kept crumbling while we were told to simply adapt.

Then maybe we realized we weren’t just producing anymore. Maybe we realized the role had evolved so completely that it transcended the word itself. Maybe the role of the producer expanded so far beyond producing that the word could no longer contain what we’d become.

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With gratitude to Elly ZK, whose TikTok post about the evolving role of the artist inspired this reflection on the evolving role of the producer.