Over the course of our first week in Hollywood we’ve met with quite a few important people in the entertainment industry, yet no one outside of Hollywood knows their name. Their work is necessary to the success of film and television but few take the time to even notice, much less thank them. I would like to take the time to thank these unseen men and women.

Much of the work these people do goes completely unnoticed. For example, when meeting with the sound mixer at NBC Universal we learned about the work he does on comedies like “The Office,” “Scrubs,” and “Brooklyn 99.” He isolated various mixes within the sound, showing us the underlying layers of sound and the e.q. mixing he used to create them. Sound effects that go completely unnoticed by the majority of viewers are actually integral to maintaining the realism of TV and film. We saw another example of unnoticed work when we went behind the scenes on the soundstage for a dramatic hour-long show. Approaching the soundstage from the outside, we saw the raw wood on the back of flats, but the moment we stepped inside the house, we were transported into a period home in another state.  The set decorator we met discussed the detail that the production designer inserted into each room, detail that is unseen by viewers as it is often in the background and out of focus. This detail is incredibly important, however, because without it, a set would appear flat and empty and thus not realistic as someone’s home. We also met with archivists in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences archive. The archivists here save copies of films and documentaries including all their dailies and other unused footage, and store them in an archive. This preservation work is incredibly important to the entertainment industry, yet an average person doesn’t even know this work is happening.

The statistics say 2% of people living in Los Angeles work in the entertainment industry, but of those 2%, only a few are ever recognized by the general public. These un-thanked people work hard, and though their work is incredibly important, when it’s done well, very few people ever notice it. This is the life of any technical film staff other than, perhaps, the cinematographer, whose work only in recent years has begun being noticed and rewarded. So Thank You, to all those whose work in the entertainment industry goes completely unnoticed. Thank You, for working hard to create something that no one will ever thank you for.

I realized something a few days ago: Hollywood is really cool. This does not sound at all profound, but it was an epiphany for me. You see, I grew up in L.A. I was born in Culver City and I went to high school in Santa Monica, thus I view L.A. with that certain disdain we reserve for our hometown. Growing up here, L.A. was not cool or hip; it was simply where I grew up. More than anything, I was irritated by the questions that being from L.A. invited. No, I don’t live next to any movie stars. No, I don’t know any movie stars. No, I really don’t live anywhere near the Hollywood sign. Somehow, being from L.A. immediately labeled me as something, whether that is “cool” or “indie” or “spoiled,” and I really didn’t like that. In retrospect, I think I didn’t like it because I didn’t understand it.

So, a few days ago, when my perception of Hollywood shifted, it was very odd for me. I was appreciating something I held in such contempt for so long. I think this shift happened because of an important detail; previously, I had been viewing Hollywood and the “industry” from afar whereas now, we are studying Hollywood and the “industry” from the inside. We are being taken in and shown the strings, as Clay likes to say, when, as viewers, we’re only supposed to be seeing the puppet.

If anything, I think about the quote at the very top of our syllabus by F. Scott Fitzgerald: “You can take Hollywood for granted like I did, or you can dismiss it with the contempt we reserve for what we don’t understand. It can be understood too, but only dimly and in flashes. Not half a dozen men have ever been able to keep the whole equation of pictures in their heads.”

Today during our meeting with a magazine editor, a rapidly escalating issue was brought to light: the decline of the physical, material magazine/newspaper, as the Internet and online media rises to the forefront. Facebook, Email, Twitter, Youtube, Instagram, Tumblr, and Pintrist, all outlets of communication, have contributed to an online “golden age,” which has already caused the United States Postal Service to suffer (no more snail mail except when Grandma’s birthday comes around). News is increasingly becoming an online medium, with alerts from Twitter, Google News, and CNN.com. Newspapers, suffering at the hands of the Internet craze, are being put out of business left and right. Why pick up a paper when news is readily available on your Iphone through a search engine?

The same problem is affecting magazines, which, in their glory days of the ‘90s, were the premiere source for style, business, and the latest gossip. Now the latest trends and chitchat are all on the Internet, where any blogger can write on a subject or post a photo. In an attempt to meet the demands of the general population, most of whom are Internet users, many magazines have begun using online formats, and soon, may use this method entirely as the printed word becomes obliterated in an online world.

The future of digital technology is upon us: people swiping their ipads to browse the latest Vogue, reading Buzzfeed to discover the newest trends, and tuning into an online broadcast of BBC. When we can access our information at the click of a mouse or tap of a screen, libraries, schools, magazines, news and media must struggle to keep up with the ever-changing fast paced technology of the age. It will be interesting to see who can keep up–and who will fall to the wayside. One thing though is clear: in a time where anyone can share anything, the competition in the field of media will only become greater.

Facebook is clogged with “inspirational” posts informing the world to “be yourself,” and angry posts about people that are “fake.” This branding of what is genuine and what is “fake” is blindly applied by all, and too often that it makes it difficult not to snicker at these posts wondering, among all these self proclaimed “real” people, where are these “fake” people they all condemn? Today, as I was walking around Hollywood Boulevard, I must admit that I myself felt an immediate disgust to the “fakeness” of all that I saw. The tour buses advertising sightseeing of celebrities mansions; the saggy, plastic armor of the too-short Darth Vader and his inattentive Storm Troopers; the horribly blocky and gaudy decorations of the overly priced Hard Rock Café – It all disgusted me in its “fakeness”.

What does this mean? What is this fakeness? The most obvious evaluation of this sentiment is a perceived masking to accommodate for some interest (social, monetary etc.). But, what does this masking itself entail? Can there be no genuineness in the reinvention of oneself? Is not the accommodation itself a representation of some personal quality? What, rather then accommodation is at the core of the creation of “fakeness”?

As implied by the Facebook rants about others’ fakeness, this experience is not solitary, but inflicts itself upon its surroundings. The “mask” cannot be applied by oneself, because there is no interest to accommodate to in solitude. Reinvention, without exterior interest, can only be imposed for self-interest. Here we find inherent in the creation of the fake a necessity for an exterior interest to accommodate to. This interested tends to be social are monetary. The façade of Hollywood Boulevard accommodates to monetary interest, the source of this interest being the tourist – us. Namely, we are the interest. In being the source of the interest, I believe we find the key in our disgust. I felt disgust in the fakeness because I felt cheated; I felt exploited. I was not being presented a human with whom I can converse and connect to; I was being sold a way how to feel and a an image to give money to. I did not feel cheated and exploited in the restructuring of the representation, but in the restructuring of the representation with me being the monetary interest.

This sentiment is paralleled in my feelings towards exploitation (of the audience) in movies. The line where I feel unattached and exploited by a film is crossed when I am targeted as an interest rather than a human; when I am an object of the film rather than a participant. I watch “The Notebook” and I am told how to feel. I am told to be sad. I am told to feel compassion. The film exploits my emotions; that is how it appeals. On the other hand, there are stories that have no agenda, no creed, no moral. They do not tell you what to feel, or how to think. They do not try to make you laugh, or cry, or cringe, or holler with excitement. Instead, they invite you into the film. They invite you into their world. They invite you to interact with the characters as people rather than characters. Most importantly, they interact with you as a human, not as a means for their interest.

Since the beginning of this trip, we’ve stood in a number of Hollywood’s historical landmarks. As we learn more and more of the significance behind these locations and their purpose, standing in the midst of them begins to feel increasingly overwhelming. I wonder about the impact historical knowledge of any art form has on an artist’s ability to practice it. Would Tig Notaro be in a different position had she graduated high school and decided to study comedy in an academic context? Would Colin Jost still be regarded as talented and humorous enough to fill a seat at SNL’s Weekend Update desk had he not graduated from Harvard? Regardless, there seems to be an unspoken responsibility on aspiring directors, writers and performers to learn of the history behind the industry they want to be a part of. As I learn more and more, it seems clear as to why our understanding of history collaborates with our creative process. The stories we wish to share and the way we go about sharing them fit into an ongoing history of the story of Hollywood.

While trying to visualize our potential place in the history of this ever-changing industry, it’s eerie to consider the influential relationship between what we know of show business’s past and how we conceptualize contributing to its future. In Hollywood Remembered: An Oral History of its Golden Age, Paul Zollo quotes Laurence Hill’s observation that “Few now living in Hollywood know that DeLongpre used to pluck his choicest roses where now stands the Warner Brothers Theatre” (12). Painter Paul DeLongpre had unintentionally created Hollywood’s first tourist attraction in his ornate mansion and prize-winning gardens, only to have it torn down following his death in 1911, just in time for the arrival of Hollywood’s first film productions. I’m not concerned with the fate of Delongpre’s property, but with the fact that many don’t know its existence had a part in Hollywood’s history. During the drive back to Oakwood Hills earlier today, Clay mentioned that many of the 2% of Los Angeles’s residents working in the Media and Entertainment industry drive past the Hollywood Heritage Museum (HHM) without realizing it is the barn where Cecile B. DeMille filmed The Squaw Man, the first full-length motion picture to be entirely shot in Hollywood. During our visit to the HHM, a volunteer employee named John gave us a short, descriptive lecture on the production of The Squaw Man and the subsequent events. He began his lecture with this photo of the entire cast and crew, orchestrated by DeMille, the man “directing” to the far right.

Afterward, I asked John if I could stand outside and view the barn from the perspective of the camera that took this photo a century ago. He responded that no, I could not, as this section of the barnyard burned down years after the completion of The Squaw Man. Perhaps it’s better that way. The set is preserved through photos of the time and the tireless enthusiasm of passionate individuals, rather than by Tess Gattuso’s Instagram. History isn’t valuable in the extent that it is tangible, but in the purpose it gives countless aspiring artists today. That Delongpre’s gardens were demolished or the specific section of the barnyard burned down does not hinder the great value they hold. All we can do is continue to believe in the industry they played a part in developing and keep them in mind as we try to build on it.

Tess Gattuso