P.S. to Unpunishable Plagiarism


A few readers expressed strong disapproval of my recent post Warning: Unpunishable Plagiarism.  Not of the subject matter per se – they agree that gorging on other people’s creativity—whether in business, science, or arts—is despicable and the law that doesn’t protect it is fucked up. But they were upset with the examples I’ve chosen to illustrate the idea-snatching in pop-culture. 

Instead of picking on absorption of mythology, folklore, and literary inheritance in the beloved Harry Potter—they say—or making vague allegations about the possible origins of Hannah Horvath, why didn’t you talk about the simultaneous releases of Pixar‘s A Bug’s Life and DreamWorksAntz (both in 1998), or of a superior Chris Nolan’s The Prestige and subpar Neil Burger’s The Illusionist (both 2006)?

The answer is simple: as peculiar and suspicious concurrent developments of very similar ideas by different production companies are, it is practically impossible to uncover the back stories behind these incidents, or make even vague attempts to point a finger at the alleged perpetrators.  So, I wrote about the instances that seemed somewhat obvious and transparent to me.  Otherwise, the post would consist of nothing more than just one anecdote from my own professional life and a non-descriptive list of dubious cultural references.  Maybe it would be more sanitary, but also boring.

Let’s take, for example, The Prestige/The Illusionist case.  What can we dig up?  Well, both screenplays were based on legitimate and independent literary sources.  

The first one is an adaptation of a novel with the same title written by an English novelist and science fiction writer Christopher Priest and published by Gollancz in 1995.  Priest is a well-known  and highly respected writer: the themes of his A Dream of Wessex, for example, were used as a framework for David Cronenberg’s fantastic eXistenZ.  The year The Prestige hit the book stores, it was nominated for four sci-fi and fantasy awards and won two of them.  While the movie differs from the book (the latter being darker and more complex) all the main ingredients and the plot turns were taken from the novel: the characters’ names and descriptions, Priest’s fictional practice of stage illusions (the setup, the performance, and the prestige), the nature of the competing teleportation uber-acts, and even the guest appearance of Nicola Tesla.

Various sources indicate that several Hollywood producers had approached Priest for an adaptation of the novel and it was Valerie Dean of Newmarket Films (they also produced Memento), who told Chris Nolan about the novel in 2000.  After he read it, Newmarket Films purchased the option.  I can see how adapting a novel constructed as shifts between entries of two diaries could be very difficult, especially considering that the work on Insomnia had already began.  Yet, the Nolan brothers had it finished in 2003 and were ready to start filming, but it wasn’t meant to be: Batman Begins production got escalated and The Prestige was postponed.  The pre-production didn’t start until October 2005 and the film was released by Touchstone exactly one year later.

The Illusionist is based on an even earlier short story by Pulitzer Prize winner Steven Millhauser Eisenheim the Illusionist – it was a part of his 1990 collection The Barnum Museum.  The Hollywood mythology has it that, even though Neil Burger’s debut Interview with the Assassin was a terrible flop, its producers desperately wanted to work with the said writer/director again.  In 2002 they asked Neil what would he like to do next and he said, “There is this short story I always wanted to adapt…”  I’m guessing it took a couple of years before the idea could be sold and budgeted (unlike Chris Nolan, Neil Burger had no other projects on his hands), and the movie didn’t go into production until early 2005.  It was released 10 months ahead of The Prestige.     

Thus, on the surface all facts point to the accidental concurrency of these two movies.  However, who the fuck knows how the little impulses that churn the Hollywood machine work?  You see, as soon as any creative property is optioned, the fact becomes a matter of public knowledge.  Ok, let me amend that: I don’t really think that the “general public” is following that kind of information.  But if you are in the trade or have some sort of a vested interest in filmmaking, you can and must know all tinseltown’s moves.                        

I mean, Variety, the oldest American entertainment-trade magazine, had been founded in 1905 (!).  Since then, its been reporting on every single production and celebrity move imaginable.  The Hollywood Reporter joined the action in 1930.  Nowadays, you can have paid subscriptions to both publications online.  However, the Internet access to filmmaking trade news is dominated by DoneDeal Pro ($24 a year), which delivers basically a live feed of every option, screenplay purchase, new project announcement, talent attachment, etc.;  and IMdB Pro ($125 a year) with its remarkable search capabilities allowing you to see what every producer has “in-production” and “in-development.”  And I know for a fact that all production companies and studios have staffers and interns, whose job is to deliver the digests of all these daily news to their bosses.   

So, it is easy to imagine that the knowledge of The Prestige waiting its turn since 2000 could’ve been a pressure point in The Illusionist pitch: “Look, we can beat their timing with our own movie about a magician…”  Is this a qualified example of the unpunishable plagiarism?  I really don’t know.  You decide for yourself.

Some readers also said that my post, by making a case that “everyone steals,” might give unsavory elements a carte blanche for encroaching on others’ creativity.  Well, first of all, I hope I was explicit enough in stating my position on the issue.  Secondly, I honestly don’t think that my two cents have the power to change the situation in either direction.  And finally, I am not Huffington fucking Post – I don’t have that kind of exposure!

Of course, I cannot just end this post without letting the movie critic in me to use this opportunity to make the following comment.  If somebody referred Christopher Nolan to Eisenheim the Illusionist, he wouldn’t care for it.  It’s a story of the “and I will do anything for love” kind, and this writer/director is not interested in that.  Think about his movies (including Man of Steel, which he only co-produced) – they are all about a Man and His Mission, a Hero and His Obsession.  Love, even if it’s present, is just a plot point; it is seated in the last row of the Nolan bus.            

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Warning: Unpunishable Plagiarism


Plagiarism the wrongful appropriation or purloining, and publication as one’s own, of the ideas, or the expression of the ideas (literary, artistic, musical, mechanical, etc.) of another.

            OED, Vol. 11: 947

As OED’s definitions go, this one is pretty straightforward: you create something, another person passes it as his own – that’s wrong.  It is also linguistically polite.  Authors unrestricted by the structural conventions of dictionaries, can be more blunt about it. Late Alexander Lindey, a copyright attorney and author, in his 1951 Plagiarism and Originality wrote: “Plagiarism is literary – or artistic or musical – theft.”

Note that OED’s definition includes both
ideas
and their expressions.  Legally, however, only actual products are protected.  The United States Copyright Office clearly states: 

“Copyright does not protect ideas, concepts, systems, or methods of doing something.  You may express your ideas in writing or drawings and claim copyright in you description, but be aware that copyright will not protect the idea itself as revealed in written or artistic work.”

To simplify: Copying Van Gogh’s Sunflowers to a stroke and passing it as your own work is illegal, but producing endless still-lifes of vases with flowers in Van Gogh’s style is absolutely OK.  By the same token, reproducing somebody’s words verbatim without giving a proper citation is plagiarism, but recasting somebody’s original idea with your own words, details, and attributes cannot be legally challenged.

Generally speaking, the intention behind the exclusion of ideas from the copyright protection is founded in the possibility of several people coming up with the same thought at the same time.  This indeed happens from time to time.  However, more frequently than not, the law, as it stands right now, makes what I call an unpunishable plagiarism an okay thing.   

Of course, it is infrequent that someone copies a painting, or steals a score from another musician’s computer.  Actions like that can lead to criminal and/or civil law suits.  From time to time, we hear about people being expelled from schools or lose their jobs and professional creditability on account of plagiarism.

Sometimes, such allegations are unfounded and cleverly used to mar the innocent competition.  The fabulous Alan Rickman, whose character in the Broadway production of Theresa Rebeck’s Seminar became a victim of such a scam, moaned with all the heart-wrenching pain his ample talent was capable to deliver: “Oh, to be accused of such a thing…”  For him it’s the worst possible shame.  A rare man!  

However, when it comes to original ideas, only individual morals stand between one person’s precious imaginative jewel and another person’s grabby hand.  Unfortunately, morality being what it is in the present time, theft of the original ideas is far more common than pickpocketing and purse snatching.  As originality becomes more and more of a deficit, the stealing of it becomes more and more pervasive.  I personally don’t care whether it’s legal or not.  To me it’s worse than a theft – it’s an intellectual rape, a snatching of babies born in a torrent of a creative labor. 

In business environments it happens every day.  Those who watch NBC’s popular series Grimm know that the show’s core feature is to give a fairy-tale spin to contemporary life.  In a second season’s episode Nameless, a video game company celebrates the development of a groundbreaking code.  Everyone involved in the programming of this extraordinary algorithm stands to make millions.  As it turns out, however, none of the people taking credit for it had actually authored the breakthrough idea.  It was appropriated by the team leader from a tech guy who came to reboot her system and offered the brilliant solution in exchange for a date.  Not only that she had no qualms about accepting the praise and the rewards, she wasn’t planning to keep the date promise either.  She didn’t even remember the guys name.

Whether in business or arts, the worst idea thieves are your peers, especially those who work with you.  Trust me, I know it first-hand.  One such incident occurred during my time as a high-tech CFO.  We were preparing for a teleconference with our venture-capital investors.  My fellow board member, the VP of Marketing, strolled into my office and asked for my opinion about the topics to be discussed.  You know, at the time the Internet companies were marked by a sense of democracy and camaraderie.  So, I let my guard down and laid out my thoughts.  All these years later, I still remember the shock I felt, when this guy took the lead of the meeting and repeated everything I told him verbatim, without giving me any credit, of course.      

It goes without saying that the world of arts and entertainment is a fucking snake pit that lives by the motto “Everybody steals.”  It’s pretty much an every-day practice. 

No matter how many musicians and fans scorned Vanilla Ice’s shameless “re-phrasing” of the Queen/Bowie genius bass riff, “Ice Ice Baby” made millions, was nominated for a Grammy and won the American Music Award.  It only got worse since.  I happened to personally know a human equivalent of a music encyclopedia, and I constantly hear from her: “Wait a minute, I already heard this on…”      

In Woody Allen’s Vicky, Christina, Barcelona Penelope Cruz’s character Maria Elena bluntly states that Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem), a commercially successful artist, stole his entire painting style from her.  First, he reluctantly acknowledges that, yes, she was “influential,” and later admits that “maybe he took from her more than he likes to admit.”  Really?  With a hint of sarcasm Maria Elena says: “It’s okay.  We worked side by side for many years, and you adopted my vision of the world as your own.” 

Speaking of movies, it’s impossible to get an unknown writer’s script into a decision-maker’s hands.  99% of studios and production companies do not accept unsolicited (i.e. not represented by an agent) material.  And even if you do get someone to read your script or to hear your pitch, the first thing you will need to do is to sign a legal document promising that you will never-ever sue that entity for stealing your idea.  Why?  Because, if they don’t like the script but like the idea, they will most definitely steal it.

There is this tiny (in terms of viewership – $342K gross) Craig Lucas’s movie called The Dying Gaul (2005).  It is a feeble attempt to expose Hollywood’s perversity and corruption.   In spite of the presence of indy VIP’s Campbell Scott, Patricia Clarkson, and Peter Sarsgaard, whose pull must be responsible for a $4 million budget, the movie is an unremarkable failure.  (Let’s be honest, ever since Robert Altman’s The Player (1992), you really need something extraordinary up your sleeve to embark on this theme.)  Yet, the film has one valuable tidbit of a real truth in it: When the main character refuses to change his script from a tragic gay love story into a heterosexual romance, the big-time producer with a $1 million check in his hand warns, “If you refuse, you will walk out of here with nothing, and I will give your story to someone else to rewrite.” 

But don’t think that only the unknown writers fall victims to Tinseltown’s shameless pilfering of ingenuity.  The moment I saw a poster for Night in the Museum, I had a bizarre thought that Ben Stiller somehow managed to convince Gore Vidal to lend the movie a brilliant plot device from his novel The Smithsonian Institution (1998) .  You see, it was Vidal who made the historical characters come to life, most notably Teddy Roosevelt (but not dinosaurs).  Apparently, I was not the only one who noticed the uncanny similarity: the great writer himself openly spoke about it in various media.  Of course, he wasn’t going to attempt any legal action – he’s been around the block way too many times (his first publication is dated 1946 and his oeuvre includes 14 screenplays).  

Some occurrences of unpunishable plagiarism are simply ridiculous.  In 2007, Joe Swanberg (another semi-known indy writer/director) made a practically unseen ($23K gross) movie called Hannah Takes the StairsHannah (Greta Gerwig), a recent college graduate, is an intern and an aspiring writer, who is cruising from a relationship to  relationship, trying to find her direction in life.  Hmm… Wait a minute… Doesn’t this Hannah live on HBO now? Wasn’t she shoved into everyone’s face by the hipster media for the past 18 months or so? Wasn’t she supposed to be an alter ego of her “oh-so-original” creator, a “genius” on the list of “100 Most Influential People,” the one whose name I promised not to mention in my posts anymore? A coincidence?  Nope.  If anyone did see the 2007 movie, it would be this HBO’s you-know-who.  After all, she is a friend and a collaborator (Nobody Walks) of Ry Russo-Young, who co-starred in Hannah Takes the Stairs.

Speaking of those Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it is my firm opinion that the biggest scrounger in fictional writing ever is J.K. Rowling.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Harry Potter, but that woman sponged her material off everything she ever read (granted, she is a very well-read person). Let’s not drown ourselves in the boundless sea of magical names representing wizardly attributes: Lupin = wolf (Latin); Sirius = dog (Latin via Greek); Severus = serious, strict (Latin); Dumbledore = stream of gold (a combination of “dumble” – a Nottinghamshire local for a forested stream, and French “d’Or”), etc., etc., etc., etc. Instead, I’d like to point out a few very specific items:

  • Let me remind you that in 1961 Roald Dahl wrote a very popular book James and the Giant Peach about an orphan boy James Henry Trotter (Harry James Potter, anyone?!), whose loving parents were destroyed by a brutal rhino and who is forced to live with cruel aunts until a magician helps him to get out.
  • In Gaudy Night Dorothy Sayers’s lead character Harriet Vane describes her alma mater, Oxford’s Shrewsbury College, as an incredibly confusing place with seemingly moving stairs
  • During Victorian times, British citizens started depositing their money in the banks in increasing numbers.  Funny, they developed a slang term for the sovereigns the deposited – they called them “goblins.” 

Actually, my list is so long, I can write another book.  How about “Harry Potter Genesis, Or Did J.K. Rowling Come Up With Any Original Ideas?”

Obviously, I am very apprehensive about the usurping tendencies all around us.  I know talented young people bursting with artistic ideas. Extraordinary pearls of originality simply roll off their tongues.  It’s painful to admit it, but instead of enjoying their creativity, I behave like a robotic warning machine: “Keep it to yourself! Don’t share it with anybody!  Stop dropping your pearls publicly!  Why did you post that brilliant thing on fucking facebook?!”  I know it makes me sound like a paranoid maniac (and it makes me feel real shitty), but what else can I do to protect them?  Their artistic expressions are incredibly unique.  Their verbiage is so catchy, their “friends” not only repeat it, but have the gall to claim it for themselves.   

How can we possibly control this?  How can we safeguard the originality? We can’t: There is no legal way and most humans lost any shreds of shame a long time ago.  The only way to protect your ideas is to constantly convert them into products, so that you can stake your ownership via the copyright.  And even then, as examples above show, you are not secured from various brands of scavengers.