Writing a Thesis on Product Placement?
Independently owned since 1972
By KEMBA J. DUNHAM
Staff Reporter of THE WALL
STREET JOURNAL
When it comes to being a stage mother, Sharene Barnett is totally driven. She's already landed movie roles for one of her charges and is determined to get a debut on the wide screen for another.
Ms. Barnett, a 27-year-old clothing company owner from northern New Jersey, is among a growing number of people who, though they'll probably never be stars themselves, are determined to make stars of their cars. Her gray, 1999 Mercedes CL500 Coupe snagged a cameo in the edgy new movie "Black and White," in which the car is the ego-stroking ride for an ambitious street thug named Rich. The Mercedes also serves as a vehicle for Forest Whitaker's character in "Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai," about a contract killer who applies samurai discipline to his profession.
Ms. Barnett also owns a 1999 gold S-type Jaguar but so far the Jag hasn't passed a screen test. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed," she says, "even if it's just for a supporting role."
For Richard Woodside, a 42-year-old Toronto lawyer, cameos are old hat -- over the past three years, six of his 11 classic cars have ended up with small roles in the movies, among them "Detroit Rock City." Now he's pressing his agent to snag a breakout role. "The car owner is a lot prouder when his car serves as a star car," says Mr. Woodside, who has so far netted about $5,200 from his screen gigs.
Cars have been in movies about as long as there have been movies. But a few things have changed. In the old days, under the studio system, movie makers bought up entire fleets of cars and kept them on their lots, says Eric Dahlquist Sr., a Hollywood product-placement specialist. Sometimes they also borrowed cars from auto-makers eager to get their brands on to the silver screen -- the 1930 Packard, for instance, made it into lots of movies. Now and then star-struck car owners would even drive their automobiles right up to the studio gates and beg that they be used in the movies.
But maintaining and storing all those studio cars proved unwieldy and expensive, and car makers couldn't be relied on to furnish all the cars that Hollywood needed. In fact, by the time the car-hungry cop series "Kojak" made its debut in the 1970s, movie and television studios realized that "getting cars was a business in itself," says Gino Lucci, co-owner of Picture Cars East Inc. in Brooklyn
Enter car agents like Mr. Lucci who, like agents for actors, keep a list of hot prospects and are ready when, say, Disney puts out a call for 150 '60s-era cars. The Internet has helped to make this easier by allowing agents to build and maintain large, readily accessible databases.
Joseph Sargo, 26, owner of Movie Time Cars Inc., says he gets "tons" of new listings every day. Movie Time is one of about a dozen agencies in the U.S. that allows car owners to register vehicles for film and TV work. Located 15 miles outside of Manhattan, it has a Web site (www.movietimecars.com) and a 5,000-car database that includes pictures and any details -- whether a car might be a rare model, for example -- that might give an automobile star quality.
Who ultimately gets a callback? Mr. Sargo estimates that about 25% of those who register their cars with Movie Time are actually contacted, though many don't make the final cut. Owners generally earn from $100 to $1,500 a day, depending on the use and uniqueness of the car. Some, like a Mercedes used in a recent music video for the group Damaged Goods, fetch up to $2,500 a day. Like Hollywood agents, car agents work on commission, though none would discuss their fees.
On a recent day, Mr. Sargo is sifting through a stack of photos that represent his latest crop of cars. He has eclectic tastes, since he not only books cars for the movies but has placed them in TV productions such as HBO's mob hit, "The Sopranos," as well as the ABC soap opera, "One Life to Live." Giving some insight into his business, he stops when he sees a picture of a gorgeous green $200,000 Aston Martin. Not only is the car telegenic, but the owner lives in Westchester County, only a short drive from the film hub of Manhattan.
"I'm sure we will place this car," Mr. Sargo says. Later, he sees a submission from a car owner out in Idaho. "Forget it," he says. "This guy lives too far away."
For many who crave to get their cars on the big screen, money is not the object. When David Stragand's 1958 red-and-white Plymouth Belvedere appeared in the 1998 NBC miniseries "The Temptations," he invited his neighbors over to watch the premiere. A few months later, the Pittsburgh systems analyst set up a Web site (www.forwardlook.net/ temptations.html) showcasing his car's star turn, complete with photographs of the car in makeup (i.e., buffed to a shine), on the set, and with the actors. He even bought a $6 copy of the film from Wal-Mart -- just in case someone missed it.
Mr. Stragand admits that his car's stardom doesn't drive his friends wild. "It's like people with their home videos. No one is interested except for the person doing the showing," he says.
Mr. Lucci, 53, whose company places hundreds of cars a year in films and TV commercials, has seen lots of car owners with the Hollywood bug so bad that they buy cars with express purpose of finding them screen roles.
Karl Larsen, a Web producer from Los Angeles, did just that. After he purchased a gold 1967 Malibu a few years ago, he earned $4,500 from a Denny's campaign -- enough so that it covered the cost of the car. He then bought a nocturne blue 1964 Pontiac GTO to see how much work it could get and quickly snagged roles in a music video for the Jennifer Page song "Crush," plus a Gateway computer commercial.
Now, Mr. Larsen -- known in the industry as "Karlicious" -- feels like he's the star. His cars' agent at Hollywood Picture Cars, Scott Boses, pages him whenever roles pop up. When he's driving down Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles, he says that people often recognize the cars from the video or the commercial. He loves the attention. "Where I live, it's all about the image," the 31-year-old says.
Because of his cars' luck, he's so enamored of the "Hollywood thing" that he recently acquired a Screen Actors Guild card for himself. But finding an agent has been a bust.
It's not totally absurd for owners to use their cars to sneak into films themselves. Many agents say that if a vehicle is being used in a background shot, the owner -- who usually can't stand to see others driving his or her car anyway -- can sometimes get behind the wheel. Gene Makrancy, 46, a Port Vue, Pa., car agent who often places his own vehicles in the movies, got to drive his 1966 burgundy Ford Galaxy convertible in the recent Michael Douglas film, "Wonder Boys." But by the final cut, all that showed of Mr. Makrancy was his hands on the steering wheel. "I have a crooked finger and all my friends knew it was my hand," says Mr. Makrancy.
Others have more inflated expectations -- consider the man who recently sent Mr. Sargo not just a picture of his car but also a picture of his daughter. Attached, says Mr. Sargo, was a pleading note to get her a role in "The Sopranos."
For Pete Norcia, a retired maintenance manager from Lyndhurst, N.J., getting a piece of "The Sopranos" action was no big deal. He had family connections to Mr. Sargo and -- bada-bing! -- his 1996 burgundy Cadillac DeVille landed a ten-episode role as the vehicle for mob rat Salvatore "Big Pussy" Bompensiero.
He tuned in with a heavier heart than most of the millions of other viewers when, in the season finale a few weeks ago, Big Pussy was executed for being a big rat. To Mr. Norcia, it was a tragic death. "It means they won't be using my car anymore," he says.