I'm about to talk myself out of a job. Mind you, writing treatments for TV commercials is a job I should never have had in the first place. For anyone who doesn't know, a "treatment" is a detailed outline of a script – provided by a production company – to explain exactly how a commercial will be shot. Treatments are nothing new. Directors have always had to flesh out a script, so they can share their vision with the agency and client.
The obesity crisis
Trouble is, there's now way too much flesh. Once slim and efficient, treatments are now grossly overweight. Production companies are forced to fatten them up to stand any chance of securing a job. Armies of people are now employed to make treatments ever more detailed, complex and elaborate. Treatment writers are brought in to explain every aspect of every shot. Picture researchers now provide countless images just in case the client doesn't understand what a "dark haired man in his 30s" looks like. Further researchers have to trawl the internet for clips and GIFs to demonstrate (I swear I'm not making this up) what's meant by "a sausage frying in a pan". Each weighty treatment now costs a small fortune to produce but if it doesn't win, too bad, all that money has been wasted.
Leaner, healthier times
Until fairly recently, an agency would simply contact two or three suitable directors and arrange a quick meeting with each of them to discuss the script. One would always emerge as the favourite and, once the quote was approved, that director would supply a brief treatment for the pre-production meeting before saying: "Action!"
I have to stress that the best creative teams still choose directors in this way. Trouble is, the majority of them are now... what's the word I'm looking for?
Useless
Trust me, I've heard them. Before writing a treatment, you have to listen to the phone call between the director and creative team. Never less than 28 minutes long, it always contained elements that made me seethe. First the director has to pretend to be "super-excited" at the prospect of shooting some dismally unfunny 10-second idents. And if the creative team said (as they often did): "We really want to bring the comedy out". I'd find myself muttering: "First you need to put some comedy in." Then I could guarantee what would come next: "We're happy to consider any script ideas you might have." By now I'm shouting out loud: "Oh, I bet you are! I bet you're very happy to have someone else doing your job for you."
Stephen F***ing Sondheim
If you've ever witnessed a commercial's transition from script to screen, you'll know how much of a creative team's job is often done by the director. And sometimes by the treatment writer. One (can you guess which one?) was writing a treatment for a big 60-second commercial. The team had written it in verse, though "dreadful, disjointed doggerel" would have been a more truthful description. He suggested amending the script so that at least it rhymed, scanned, and complemented the director's brilliant visual ideas. "No, no," said the production company. "Don't tamper with the agency's script."
"Just tell them," said the treatment writer, "that your 'friend who works in West End theatre' has suggested a few tweaks. Tell them your friend is Stephen Fucking Sondheim, just don't tell them it's me."
So the script was re-written and the director got the gig. However, the following year, Stephen Fucking Sondheim watched the agency creative team collecting their awards for it and decided that the whole treatment thing was a racket and one day he would call it out.
It gets worse
On that occasion, at least the director got to shoot his own suggestions but that's not always the case. Detailed treatments allow creative teams to steal those details from directors who don't get the job and offer them to directors who do. Production companies are also now asked to "treat" on scripts that haven't been approved and never will be. Imagine that: being invited to spend time and money applying for a job that doesn't exist. The other scandal is directors being made to jump through several costly hoops when the agencies have already decided who's getting the job. Spoiler alert: it's not you. They just want your War and Peace-length treatment to give the client some illusion of choice.
But what if you win?
It's obviously better than losing but the triumph isn't exactly huge. When an agency pitches for a piece of business, the prize can be a profitable, long-term relationship. An expensive treatment may only lead to a one-off commission and, with production companies' margins now tighter than ever, it's often the sort of victory that Pyrrhus might recognise. So what do we do?
Agencies
Just stop it. We're a small community and we should not be exploiting each other like this. Production companies are struggling to keep their post-Covid 19 heads above water, so the last thing they need is you ducking them under again by insisting upon extravagant treatments.
Production companies
Even if you despise tube strikes, you need to channel the ghost of Bob Crow and organise some industrial action by limiting your treatments to 12 pages. No idea should need more than 12 pages to explain it. Though, of course, a script with no idea is very often the problem. Keep the treatments tight but keep them loose (if that makes sense), fight the flab and fight the injustice.
Clients
You're apparently the villains of the piece but I don't believe you are. Surely as professional marketers, you don't need to be depicted as idiots or tyrants who demand detailed decks to understand what a TV commercial looks like. Stand up for yourselves and reject any treatment that looks suspiciously heavy. Ask why it needs to be this size and ask who paid for it. If you retain cost controllers, tell them that treatment costs are now costs they need to control.
Because if you can get the TV production process as efficient as it should be, that – for the whole industry – really would be a treat.
Paul Burke is founder of Paul Burke Creative