In the high-stakes world of Hollywood, film executives emerge as tragicomic figures, navigating a landscape where profit, status, and survival dominate every decision. Their priorities are not mere tasks to be checked off but are deeply embedded in the very fabric of the industry. It’s a brutal game where the sharpest minds, the quickest thinkers, and the most adaptable personalities manage to stay afloat.
This relentless pursuit of success transforms the executive into a creature of habit, constantly juggling the demands of the industry with the need to project an image of invincibility. The job isn’t just about making movies—it’s about managing perceptions, manipulating appearances, and staying one step ahead in a world where a single misstep can mean the end of a career.
At its core, the list of priorities reflects a reality where the tangible aspects of filmmaking—storytelling, artistic vision, and cultural impact—often take a backseat to the more pressing concerns of maintaining power, securing status, and ensuring profitability. The executive’s world is one where the symbols of success—box office numbers, awards, high-profile talent—are more important than the substance behind them.
This isn’t just a reflection of the film industry; it’s a mirror of a larger societal structure where appearances often trump reality, and where the pursuit of status and survival drives every action. The film executive, caught in this relentless churn, must constantly balance the demands of the industry with the need to project a carefully curated image, all while navigating an environment that is as competitive as it is unforgiving.
- MORTGAGE
The wolf at the door, gnashing its teeth at the heels of the Hollywood executive. The mortgage is not just a monthly bill but a blood pact with the American Dream, a constant reminder that even those who sit atop the gilded ladder of success are shackled to their McMansions and Beverly Hills bungalows. They live in fear, a fear that propels them to hustle harder, scheme deeper, and sleep lighter. A mortgage might be seen as a signifier within a larger economic text, signifying stability, security, or responsibility. However, like all signifiers, its meaning is not fixed but is deferred through its relationship with other signifiers, such as “home,” “debt,” or “ownership.” The mortgage is part of a system of signs that constructs the executive’s identity and place within the capitalist structure, yet this identity is never stable, always contingent on the interplay of these signs. Even the most basic need, financial stability, is subsumed into the hyperreal, where personal security is linked to participation in the system of production and consumption. The mortgage represents a connection to a material reality that is increasingly mediated by financial institutions, themselves part of the hyperreal economy.
2. LOOKING BUSY FOR INVESTORS
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In the cutthroat kingdom of Hollywood, appearance is nine-tenths of the law. The executive, with phone glued to ear, must always seem on the verge of something monumental—a deal, a breakthrough, a seismic shift in the cinematic cosmos. Investors, those shadowy overlords of capital, need to see their dollars in action. Even when there’s nothing brewing, the executive must conjure up the illusion of ceaseless motion, the alchemy of turning time into gold. Here, the appearance of productivity is more important than actual productivity. This aligns with Baudrillard’s idea that in a hyperreal society, appearances often replace substance. The goal is to simulate busyness to satisfy investors, whose perceptions are shaped by the spectacle of business rather than its actual outcomes.
Looking busy” can be deconstructed as an act that is less about actual productivity and more about the performance of productivity—a simulacrum of work. Derrida would point to the slippage between the appearance of busyness and the reality of it, showing how the sign of busyness defers its meaning through the context of investor expectations, capitalist pressures, and the performative nature of corporate roles.
3 NAVIGATING STUDIO POLITICS
A danse macabre where every step could be your last. The studio is a viper’s nest of egos, alliances, and betrayals, where power flows like mercury—slippery, toxic, and ever-shifting. The executive must glide through this perilous landscape with the grace of a seasoned diplomat, mastering the art of the backhanded compliment and the well-timed smirk. One false move, and you’re out—exiled to the barren wastelands of irrelevance. Studio politics can be seen as a battleground within the Symbolic order, where the executive must engage in a constant interplay of signifiers—status, power, alliances—to assert their position. Their desire to navigate these politics reflects their attempt to find a stable identity within the ever-shifting Symbolic structure.
The rules and strategies of studio politics are not natural or self-evident but are constructed through language and social practices that can be deconstructed to reveal the contingent and unstable nature of these power structures. Studio politics can be seen as a game of signs, where the real power dynamics are obscured by layers of posturing, alliances, and strategies—essentially, simulations of control and influence.
4 AVOIDING BLAME FOR FLOPS:
Failure is the black plague of Hollywood, and the savvy executive knows how to inoculate themselves against its deadly grip. When the box office tanks or the critics sharpen their knives, the blame must be deflected with the precision of a master fencer. The trick is to position oneself just outside the blast radius, ensuring that when the bomb goes off, it’s someone else’s career that gets blown to bits. Lacan would interpret this as a manifestation of the subject’s desire to avoid the confrontation with the Real, the traumatic kernel of failure or inadequacy that threatens their constructed identity. By avoiding blame, the executive seeks to maintain their position in the Symbolic order, deferring any encounter with the Real.
In a hyperreal world, responsibility is deflected and diffused. The goal is not to produce successful films but to maintain the illusion of success by avoiding blame. This reflects Baudrillard’s notion that accountability becomes a game of signs rather than a reflection of reality. The concept of “blame” could be deconstructed to show how it is distributed within the film industry. Blame is not a simple, direct concept but one that is always deferred—shifted between individuals, contexts, and interpretations. Derrida would highlight how the avoidance of blame involves a play of signifiers, where responsibility is displaced and reinterpreted depending on the narrative constructed around a film’s failure.
5 PER DIEMS/EXPENSES
The lifeblood of the Hollywood hustle. In an industry where every meal could be a power play and every drink a negotiation, per diems and expenses are not just perks but essential tools of the trade. The savvy executive understands the delicate balance of indulgence and excess, knowing when to pick up the tab and when to let someone else sweat over the check. Per diems and expenses can be seen as signifiers within the economic and social text of the film industry. Derrida would likely explore how these expenses are not just monetary compensations but also symbols of status, entitlement, and participation in a capitalist system. Their meaning is not inherent but is constructed through their role within the larger network of industry practices and expectations.
These could be seen as symbolic signifiers that contribute to the executive’s Imaginary identity—signs of their success, importance, and value within the industry. The focus on per diems and expenses is a way to sustain the fantasy of a successful self-image.
6 MAXIMIZING PERSONAL BRAND:
The executive is not merely a person but a walking, talking billboard. In Hollywood, you are only as valuable as your last headline, your last tweet, your last Instagram post. Personal brand is the currency of clout, the key to unlocking doors that might otherwise remain bolted shut. The executive must constantly feed the beast, curating an image that is equal parts enigmatic and aspirational, ensuring their name remains a golden ticket in the eyes of the industry. The personal brand is a construct of the Imaginary, where the executive seeks to project an idealized version of themselves. This brand is a fantasy that helps them navigate the Symbolic order, providing a sense of coherence to their fragmented sense of self.
The personal brand is a simulacrum—a constructed image that executives project and maintain. It is less about who they are and more about how they are perceived, fitting perfectly into Baudrillard’s idea that identity itself becomes a simulation. The personal brand is a form of “deterritorialization,” where the executive abstracts themselves from their specific role or function within the industry to become a more fluid, marketable entity. This brand can then be reterritorialized as a commodity within the capitalist system, generating new flows of desire and capital. The “personal brand” can be deconstructed to reveal how identity is constructed through the play of signs. Derrida would argue that the personal brand is not a fixed or stable identity but a series of signifiers that are constantly in flux, dependent on how they are interpreted by others. The brand is a construct that defers meaning through its associations with success, influence, and marketability.
7 MAINTAINING INDUSTRY CONNECTIONS
Hollywood is a club where membership is everything. The executive’s Rolodex—or rather, their iPhone contacts—represents the sum total of their power. It’s not just about knowing the right people; it’s about knowing when to call, what to say, and how to make the stars align. Securing A-list talent isn’t just a task—it’s a seduction, a game of high-stakes courtship where the prize is immortality on the silver screen. :Connections and talent are commodities in the hyperreal system, valued more for the signs they represent (status, success) than for their intrinsic qualities. The actual relationships or talent become secondary to the symbols they represent in the industry’s symbolic economy.
Connections and talent are not inherently valuable but gain their meaning through their position within the industry’s network of signifiers. Derrida would deconstruct the idea of “securing” talent to show how this process is about creating and maintaining relationships that are themselves constructed through language and social practices, always subject to reinterpretation and renegotiation. Connections and talent are part of the capitalist assemblage that organizes and directs flows of desire and production. By securing these connections, the executive ensures their continued relevance and power within the larger capitalist machine, maintaining their position in the system.
8 CHASING THE LATEST TREND
In a town where yesterday’s news is ancient history, the executive must have their finger on the pulse of the next big thing. Trends in Hollywood are as fickle as the wind, and the executive must be both a soothsayer and a gambler, betting big on what’s hot today and what might sizzle tomorrow. It’s a race against time, against irrelevance, where the spoils go to those who can turn a fad into a fortune before the world moves on. This reflects the hyperreal’s constant need for novelty and stimulation. Trends are not driven by genuine cultural shifts but by the need to perpetuate the cycle of consumption, creating a simulacrum of progress and innovation.
Chasing trends can be seen as a response to the shifting desires of the Other. In Lacanian terms, trends are part of the Symbolic order, constantly reshaping what is considered desirable. The executive’s pursuit of trends reflects their attempt to align with the ever-changing desires of the Other. Trends represent new flows of desire that capitalism seeks to capture and exploit. The executive’s pursuit of these trends is an attempt to align with the ever-shifting movements of desiring-production, ensuring they remain plugged into the most current and profitable flows.
The pursuit of trends can be seen as an example of différance in action—where the meaning of success is constantly deferred through the latest cultural and economic shifts. Derrida might argue that trends are part of an endless play of signs, where what is considered “in” or “valuable” is never stable but always changing, dependent on the shifting interpretations within the industry.
9 WINNING THE NETWORKING GAME
The cocktail party, the charity gala, the film festival circuit—these are the executive’s battlegrounds. Networking isn’t just a skill; it’s an art form, a delicate dance of proximity and distance, of knowing when to press the flesh and when to keep your cards close to your chest. In Hollywood, it’s not about what you know but who knows you—and, more importantly, what they think of you.
Networking is a construct that relies on the play of signs within the social text of the industry. Derrida would suggest that the “game” of networking involves a series of strategic moves within a system where meaning is never fixed, and where relationships are constantly being renegotiated. The “win” is never absolute but is always contingent on the shifting interpretations of success within the industry. Networking is another part of the capitalist assemblage, where relationships are commodified and transformed into flows of power, information, and capital. The networking game is about capturing and directing these flows in ways that benefit the executive’s position within the industry. Networking is an extension of the Symbolic order, where the executive’s identity is constructed and reinforced through relationships with others. The “game” is a symbolic exchange where signifiers of success are traded, and the executive’s subjectivity is affirmed by their position within this network.
Networking is another simulation, where relationships are often superficial and transactional, valued more for their potential to generate signs of success than for any real connection or collaboration.
10 CONTROLLING THE NARRATIVE
In the land of make-believe, perception is reality. The executive must be a master storyteller, not just on screen but in life, spinning the narrative of their own career with the deftness of a Pulitzer-winning novelist. They craft the story that will be told at industry lunches, in Variety headlines, and in the whispered gossip of studio backrooms. Control the narrative, and you control your destiny.
Controlling the narrative is an attempt to direct the flow of desire within the capitalist system. By shaping how events are perceived, the executive can influence the direction of capital and desire, ensuring that they remain a key node in the network of desiring-production.
Controlling the narrative is about managing the simulation itself. It’s not about reflecting reality but about shaping perceptions, which aligns with Baudrillard’s idea that the media and cultural industries create a reality that is mediated, controlled, and, ultimately, a simulation. In Lacanian theory, the narrative can be seen as a means of shaping the Imaginary and Symbolic orders. By controlling the narrative, the executive attempts to manage the signifiers that define their identity and the perception of their work. It’s a way of maintaining the coherence of the Symbolic structure in which they operate.
The narrative is central to Derrida’s idea of deconstruction. To “control the narrative” is to attempt to fix meaning within a text (whether a film, a career, or a brand). Derrida would argue that this is an impossible task because narratives are always open to reinterpretation and deconstruction. The attempt to control the narrative is a struggle against the inherent instability of meaning.
11 LEVERAGING DATA ANALYTICS FOR MARKETING
Numbers are the new gods in Hollywood, worshipped for their ability to predict the unpredictable, to turn gut feelings into actionable insights. The savvy executive understands that data isn’t just a tool but a weapon, one that can be wielded to justify budgets, to greenlight projects, to target audiences with laser precision. In the age of algorithms, the executive must be both mathematician and magician, turning cold, hard data into box office gold.
Data analytics represents the codification of reality into numbers and algorithms, which are then used to create simulations of audience preferences and behaviors. The goal is not to understand reality but to manipulate it through the simulation of predictive models.
Data analytics can be seen as an attempt to bring the Real (the chaotic, unpredictable nature of audience desires) into the Symbolic order by quantifying and predicting it. However, this attempt is always incomplete, as the Real resists full symbolization. The executive’s reliance on data reflects their desire to master the unpredictable elements of the industry.
Data analytics can be deconstructed to show how it represents an attempt to fix and quantify what is inherently fluid and interpretative—human behavior and desire. Derrida would likely critique the notion that data can fully capture or represent reality, highlighting the gap between the sign (the data) and what it is supposed to signify (human preferences, behaviors). The use of analytics is part of the broader capitalist text that tries to impose order and meaning on a complex, shifting reality.
12 FRANCHISE POTENTIAL
Sequels are the bread and butter of the industry, the cash cows that keep the studio lights on. Every project is scrutinized for its potential to spawn a universe, to generate spinoffs, prequels, and merchandise lines that extend far beyond the original film. The executive’s job is to think not just in terms of one movie but in terms of a dynasty, an empire built on the back of a single story.
Franchises are the ultimate simulacra—endlessly reproducible, detached from any original reality, and existing purely as commercial products designed to perpetuate themselves within the hyperreal. Franchises are repetitive structures within the Symbolic order that offer a semblance of stability and predictability. For Lacan, this could reflect the executive’s desire to cling to familiar signifiers that promise continued success, avoiding the anxiety of confronting the Real.
Franchises are highly efficient machines within capitalism, designed to capture and exploit flows of desire across multiple iterations and markets. The executive’s focus on franchise potential reflects their attempt to create stable, predictable flows of capital and desire, ensuring continuous production and consumption.
Franchises are built on the repetition of signs—characters, narratives, aesthetics—that are meant to reproduce success. Derrida might explore how each iteration of a franchise both repeats and differs from the original, showing how meaning and value are never simply replicated but are always subject to change and reinterpretation. The “potential” of a franchise is never fully realized because it is always deferred through its various incarnations.
13 BOX OFFICE NUMBERS
The ultimate scorecard, the bottom line that determines whether you’re a genius or a has-been. Box office numbers are the lifeblood of the industry, the metric by which all decisions are judged. For the executive, every weekend is a crucible, where careers are forged or shattered by the cold, hard cash that flows through the turnstiles. Box office success is a signifier within the Symbolic order, representing the validation of the executive’s work by the Other (audiences, peers). The focus on numbers reflects the executive’s need to anchor their identity and success in quantifiable metrics.
Box office success is a signifier within the hyperreal system, detached from any intrinsic artistic value of the film. It is a metric that reinforces the simulation of success rather than reflecting any genuine cultural impact. Box office numbers are a quantifiable representation of the flows of desire that have been successfully captured by a film. These numbers are used to validate the effectiveness of the desiring-production processes at play and to direct future flows of capital and production.
14 ASSURING FILM QUALITY
Quality is a noble pursuit, but let’s be honest—it’s often a luxury that can only be afforded after the more pressing concerns of mortgages, investors, and marketing have been dealt with. If quality aligns with profitability, all the better, but the savvy executive knows that in the grand calculus of Hollywood, quality is often a secondary consideration, something to be pursued only if it doesn’t interfere with the bottom line.
Film quality is only a concern insofar as it facilitates the capture and direction of desire within the capitalist machine. If quality contributes to profitable flows, it is pursued; if not, it is secondary to the more pressing demands of maintaining and expanding the capitalist assemblage.
Quality is secondary to the other priorities because, in the hyperreal, the appearance of quality is often more important than quality itself. If quality is pursued, it is only because it serves the simulation of a successful product. The quality of the film might be less central because it pertains more to the Imaginary—an ideal that is not necessarily tied to the Symbolic structures of power, success, and survival in the industry. The executive’s concern with quality only when convenient suggests that the Imaginary ideal of creating art is subordinate to the Symbolic demands of profitability and status.
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