Tendances

A Soulful MIP

When I first came to the MIP market, I had ideas of what the most important TV convention in the world ought to be. I expected to see a mix of Cannes glamour and the off-beat spirit of MTV, with a dash of fascinating characters, like Charlie Rose or Jon Stewart.

Instead I was suddenly drowning in a sea of travelling salesmen, with the spirit of Glengarry Glen Ross and the eyes permanently fixed on the bottom line. Those on the make were always making a deal, any deal, giving one a distinct impression that for a small fee they would sell you rights to their mother. Those who had made it, sipped champagne by the pool of the Majestic, flushing you with the cold arrogance of someone who worked hard enough to get where he is, and took pride in having no illusions about the taste of the public. The sea itself, so beautiful and open anywhere else, seemed distant and cold, as if afraid to be sucked into some seedy reality TV deal.

Seeing me quite depressed, a friend came to my rescue. “There’s one thing you need to know”, he told me, “if you want to be in this business. Television salesmen have no soul.”
This advice became my mantra and, over the past four years, I have learned to enjoy MIP. The key was to have no expectations, and try to avoid any creative or inspired discussion – particularly with strangers. MIP is the engine of the TV business, and it has little to do with artistic endeavours or the subject matter of programs. If you take away the small percentage of independent producers, who struggle to ensure their own distribution, MIP really is like the floor of a stock market — men with rolled up sleeves and undone ties trading intangible assets that to someone else might represent a lifetime of sleepless nights and hard work.

And, not unlike Wallstreet , MIPCOM was different this October.

There was sadness in the air, as if the market itself was deflating, like a hot air balloon, or like a reflection of the financial bubble imploding around us. It appears that thousands of accreditations were cancelled, last minute, by companies no longer able to justify the expense of going to Cannes. Strangers with nametags no longer approached you with deals of a lifetime. Discussions were limited to things that can really be done. Shops were empty and parties quiet. And, through this newly found silence, a different kind of tone started to emerge.

Every day I found myself off-guard, involved in conversations I have long given up at MIP. Intelligent programming, truce in the Middle East, Buddhist art of Afghanistan, itinerant filmmakers and musicians spending years to connect distant cultures and express ideas way too inspired for TV as we know it – there was almost an overdose of soul-searching, as previously cold-hearted distributors would drop by our boat to express their desire to change the world through promoting some amazing new cause.

Hard as I tried to remain sceptical, my cynicism did not hold out . This cleaner, emptier, rougher market was the best I have ever seen. It had a sense of reality to it, as if the only thing that imploded was the bubble ignorance that separated TV distribution from the rest of the world.

Who cares if the newly inspired TV execs are only trying to tap into a trend? What really matters is that the programs we will see on our screens in the coming year are likely to be more intelligent and insightful than the usual television fare. It matters that filmmakers with a message might find it easier to find production money. It matters that at least for one season the white-collar TV trader has recognized that a meaningful program or real talent are not a liability, but the only safe harbour he can find in the times as uncertain as these.

natalia@cominmag.ch

Ses brillantes études l'ont amenée à Harvard et au MIT. Depuis, elle s'intéresse à l'évolution de la télévision. Elle vient de lancer une chaîne musicale sur IPTV.

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