A film director's approach

to managing creativity

Eileen Morley and Andrew Silver

Reprinted from

Harvard

Business Review

No. 77210

Harvard

Business ReviewMarch-April 1977

Ralph F. Lewis, Editor and PublisherG. Scott Hutchison, Executive Editor—OperationsDavid W. Ewing, Executive Editor—PlanningVirginia B. Fales, Managing EditorTimothy B. Blodgett, Senior EditorVictor L. Burford, Associate EditorEliza G.C. Collins, Associate EditorLynn M. Salerno, Assistant EditorMyles L. Mace, Contributing EditorFrank Glickman, Art DirectorCatharine-Mary Donovan, Production ManagerPamela Banks, Editorial AssistantAllison I. Esposito, Editorial AssistantPatricia Scott, Editorial AssistantKent B. Wittenberg, Editorial AssistantEdward C. Bursk, Honorary EditorErnest D. Frawley, General Manager

Editorial Board

Kenneth R. Andrews, Chairman €> Program Director

Raymond A. BauerStephen P. BradleyAlfred D. Chandler, Jr.C. Roland ChristensenLawrence E. FourakerJohn D. GloverSamuel L. Hayes, IIITheodore LevittRalph F. LewisClaudine B. MaloneJames L. McKenneyRichard S. RosenbloomArthur J. RosenthalRichard F. VancilRichard E. Walton

Stephen A. Greyser, Secretary

Volume 55, Number 2The Harvard Business Review is the journal for professionalmanagers, published by the faculty of the HarvardUniversity Graduate School of Business Administration,Lawrence E. Fouraker, Dean. Copyright © 1977by the President and Fellows of Harvard College.All rights reserved. No part of this publicationmay be reproduced or transmitted in any form orby any means, electronic or mechanical, includingphotocopy, recording, or any information storage andretrieval system, without permission in writing fromthe publisher. Printed in U.S.A.Editorial offices, Boston, MA 02161Second-class postage paid at Boston, MA andat additional mailing offices; POSTMASTER:send form 3579 to Harvard Business Review,Boston, MA 02163.

6 Ideas for actionDaniel M. Kasper; R.A. Smardon; Philip J. Gross

16 The board and the new CEOMyles L. Mace

36 Growing criminal liability of executivesTony McAdams and Robert C. Miljus

59 A film director's approach to managing creativityEileen Morley and Andrew Silver

71 Task teams for rapid growthWilliam W. George

81 Anticipate your long-term foreign exchange risksHelmut Hagemann

89 The top of the world is flatH. Justin Davidson

100 Risk vs. return in pension fund investmentIrwin Tepper

108 Making the audit committee workMichael L. Lovdal

115 Improve distribution with your promotional mixBenson P. Shapiro

124 Responding to divisional profit crisesRichard G. Hamermesh

131 Effective public managementJoseph L. Bower

141 Shirt-sleeve approach to long-range plansRobert E. Linneman and John D. Kennell

152 Books for the thoughtful executiveLaurence J. Kipp

59

A film director'sapproachto managingcreativity

Eileen Moiley andAndrew Silver

The ways a film directorencourages his actors to performcan he as effective in managingcreative projects in business

When a film director says"action" and the actorsand technicians begin atake, what is happening?To most of us, "action"simply means Hollywood.But to the actors and tech-nicians, "action" means"get to work." Despitetheir glamor, film unitsare work systems. Theirpurpose is the productionof a film—a task thatrelies on talented peoplebanding together for ashort time. In many ways,film units are similarto scientific and con-sulting projects; theirsuccess depends on gettingthe right personnel, en-abling them to beginworking together welland quickly, motivatingthem, leading them tocreate on schedule, andhandling the stresses thatworking in isolation cancreate. The authors studieda film being made andhow the director createdhis product and handledthese problems. The filmthey studied was NightMoves (1975). The directorwas Arthur Penn, who is

probably best known forhis films Bonnie and Clyde(1967), Little Big Man(r97o)/ and MissouriBreaks (1976). GeneHackman, who won anAcademy Award forThe French Connection,starred in the film.

Eileen Morley is a psy-chologist, who since 1972has taught at the HarvardBusiness School. Her maininterests are the organiza-tion of work and the per-sonal satisfaction peoplederive from their careers.Before completing the re-search described here forhis doctorate degree fromthe Harvard BusinessSchool in 1975, AndrewSilver taught film atBrandeis University. Hehas made two short films,one of which, NextDoor, won a Blue Ribbonat the American FilmFestival in 1976. He iscurrently planning hisfirst full-length featurefilm, Sea Change.

Photograph courtesy ofWarner Bros. Inc.

When someone mentions a film unit, most peoplethink of location shooting — depending on theirgeneration it's either Robert Shaw duelling the sharkoff Martha's Vineyard or John Wayne and the U.S.cavalry charging through Death Valley! But, in fact,most major films are made in a series of predictablephases, of which shooting is only one.

In each phase of a film's production a group ofpeople collaborate to form a miniature work organ-ization which has characteristic problems of motiva-tion, leadership, and structure. Each phase is a temp-orary system, limited in duration and membership,in which people come together, interact, createsomething, and then disband. And in each phase, thedirector has to stimulate and manage different kindsof creative work under intense budget and timepressures. The director's principal job is managingthe creative process.

In this article we use the word "creativity" to meantechnical as well as artistic creativity, realizing thatthis will overlap what others define as innovation.The notion of creativity is important because thereis a high correlation between temporariness andcreativity,- and between permanence and routine.Most temporary organizations, such as film unitsor project teams, exist to develop an idea, a plan, aproduct, or a service, or to make something happensuch as a trip to the moon or a bicentennial celebra-tion. When groups or teams have completed their

Author's note: We wish to express our warm thanks to Arthur Penn forencouraging this research, and for allowing us to describe this work.

60 Harvard Business Review March-April 1977

task, they dissolve. In contrast, permanent organi-zations exist to carry out a relatively repetitivemanufacturing or service task for which there is acontinuing need.

Because film units are temporary creative systems,they have much in common with technical or sci-entific projects, consulting teams, task forces, andother short-term task groups. For this reason obser-vations about the film unit we studied should berelevant to managers of such groups.

Film units go through three main phases. Each in-volves different people, tasks, and locations. Onlythe director, producer, and script writer stay withthe process from start to finish. But before anythingcan begin, a deal has to be made—a package of writer(and script), a director, and "bankable" star, all ofwhom are committed, and whose commitmentforms the basis of the deal. Putting the package to-gether is like developing a proposal; getting thepackage financed is akin to getting the contract.Once this has happened, the film unit comes intoexistence.

The first phase (preproduction) consists of scriptdevelopment, production planning, casting, and hir-ing. The preproduction team is usually small, con-sisting mainly of people who are close to and trustedby the director.

The production phase involves the actual shootingof the film. This phase usually has a visible socialstructure and culture of its own. People are separatedinto occupational groups or subsystems: actors,camera crew, lighting crew, sound crew, and so on.They are also divided into two levels: "above-the-line" and "below-the-line." The line is literally aline on a budget sheet. The main philosophic differ-ence between the groups is in their sense of respon-sibility. Above-the-line people tend to be committedto the film as a whole. They include the "manage-ment group" (producer, director, and script writer),and the key actors. Below-the-line people, such asmembers of the technical crews, carpenters, drivers,and so on, tend to be committed only to a particularaspect of the film.

The postproduction phase begins when the produc-tion group has disbanded. It includes picture andsound editing and recording and synchronizing ofmusic and other sound effects. Usually the post-production phase resembles the preproduction onein that during each a small group of people work inclose contact with one another and the director.

There is usually also a subsequent marketing phase,but since the parent studio organization carries thisout after completion of the film and the film unititself is not involved, we did not include it in ourstudy.

Most temporary projects go through an analogousseries of phases. The people who plan and recruit anoperation are not necessarily the ones who imple-ment or lead it; nor again are the ones who imple-ment it the ones who follow up, or even clean up.The most useful way to analyze the phases is byexamining membership. Who belongs? At what timeand for what purpose does each person belong? Forhow long? Which sets of people have to work welltogether? How will people be grouped and how willthey group themselves? How will the groupingschange as the project moves from phase to phase?

Few managers think about the systems they lead associal organizations of this kind, or about the keyroles and interfaces between individuals, groups,and levels. However, the structural characteristicsof a work system have a great influence on com-munication and collaboration. People who work to-gether or see each other informally tend to exchangeinformation and form relationships—people whocome on line before or after each other, or whowork in separate buildings, do not.

In this article we describe the life cycle of the filmunit, and consider in more detail some of the pro-cesses and problems that are common to the man-agement of any temporary system.

Planning the film

The film we studied was Night Moves, directed byArthur Penn and starring Gene Hackman and SusanClark. The preproduction of Night Moves tookplace in Los Angeles, where a small "family" groupworked in contiguous offices with much face-to-facecontact and informal consultation. Hours were longand the atmosphere was very personal, much likethe atmosphere of any small group getting togetherto start up a new project.

One of the main tasks of the preproduction groupwas to recruit people for the crucial production phaseto follow. Recruiting of actors was more than un-

Managing creativity 61

usually important because Arthur Penn's conceptof film making centers on creating and filming anauthentic spontaneous happening in the acting pro-cess; not on capturing the repetition of some pre-viously rehearsed behavior. Because it was critical tofind actors who could really give Penn what hewanted, Gene Lasko, the associate producer, did thecasting, instead of leaving it up to a casting agencyor the casting department of the parent company, asusually happens.

Four main actors were chosen to go through screentests, which Penn used to generate photographic datathat he could examine at leisure in making castingdecisions. Penn was interested in the actors' pro-fessional competence and style; their stamina, pa-tience, and willingness to follow instructions; theirability to remain spontaneous after ten takes of thesame few lines of dialogue; their response to stressand fatigue; and their reactions to his way of work-ing, which differs from that of many directors. Thescreen tests enabled him to make an in-depth assess-ment of the actors before committing himself.

Robert Sherman, the producer, and Tom Schmidt,the production manager, recruited the technicalpersonnel, also with great care. They hired some ofthe technical personnel in groups. For instance,the directors of photography, lighting, and soundbrought their own crews with them. Sherman andSchmidt were not only seeking people with pro-fessional competence, but also people with the abil-ity to commit themselves quickly to a short project,and to tolerate stress ("Don't take him; he gets upsetand lays it on everyone else").

They looked for people known to have a helpful,responsible attitude ("If I help him, they'll bendover even more to help me"). Most of all they wantedpeople who would not get "uptight." All these qual-ities were explored through firsthand knowledge,word-of-mouth reputation, and conversations withother people in the business. Sherman and Schmidt'ssearch for people with the correct qualities was morepersistent than is customary in business or indus-trial recruiting.

Because the film industry is based almost completelyon temporary systems, and because the success ofany film depends at least as much on compatibilityand interpersonal skills as on technical performance,the emphasis on interpersonal compatibility wastaken for granted by everyone. This emphasis is notlikely to be so evident in a business or industrialsituation where the norms and cultural expectations

have been drawn from traditional permanent or-ganizations which value technical above interper-sonal competence.

The project manager who sensibly tries to assess thepeople he is recruiting in terms of their compatibilityand tolerance for stress may have to develop a lan-guage in which to communicate his inquiries. "Doesso-and-so ever lose his temper? How does he behavethen?" "Is she sensitive and responsive to otherpeople's feelings?" "How does he react when he'sgiven an impossible workload or conflicting instruc-tions?" "Does she have a sense of humor?" "Doesthe quality of his work deteriorate badly under pres-sure?" "Can she see someone else's point of view?"

Managers who attempt to broaden their recruitingprocedures in this way encounter occasional crit-icism of their "hairsplitting" or "inappropriately per-sonal" questions. Inquiries of this kind can usuallyonly be made in a phone call or face-to-face con-versation with a previous supervisor, who in turnmay have difficulty in formulating a reply, even ifhe or she is trying to do so. Exploring how peoplestack up on these counts is extremely time-consum-ing, but it is as essential to high-pressure technicalprojects as it is to a film unit if the project is to havethe best chance of success.

In the business world there is no equivalent of thescreen tests which Penn used to evaluate the peoplehe was proposing to hire. Permanent organizationsdo employ people "on probation," but in temporarysystems there is rarely time for this. Nonetheless, itis possible for a manager or section leader to keep aclose eye on the more critical members of the teamduring the project's early days; to set particulartechnical or interpersonal tasks for them; to seehow they respond; and to make an early decision toterminate those who do not measure up. Selectionand early testing are even more important, simplybecause there will not be time to find and train asubstitute later on.

Unfortunately, business people are more ready toaccept lack of technical ability than lack of inter-personal skill as a reason for replacing someone.Business people tend to cling to the notion thatsomehow a good manager should be able to turn adifficult or unsatisfactory subordinate around. Buton short-term projects managers usually do not havethe time to help people go through a process ofchange. At the same time, however, it is importantthat they find the time to acknowledge the skillsand contributions of the more effective people early,

62 Harvard Business Review March-April 1977

so that these people quickly feel valued and com-mitted to the task.

The shooting

Night Move's production phase, in which about 70people were involved, took place in studios in LosAngeles and on location in Florida. The shift frompreproduction to production was a substantial one.From being a small group with informal close rela-tionships, the unit metamorphosed into a muchlarger organization with a more complex structure.Different subgroups had to be brought into workingrelationships. Different levels of understandingabout what the director wanted had to be broughtinto equilibrium. Strangers had to become colleaguesand perhaps friends.

During the production phase of a film unit thereare five main areas of concern that are common toall creative temporary systems. These include theneed for people to get into a relationship quicklywith the task and with each other; the cultivationof enthusiasm and commitment; the encouragementof creativity; the question of an effective leadershipstyle on the part of the group's head; and the effec-tive management of stress and conflict.

Working relationships

Everyone in the film industry is used to movinginto a new production, and takes it for granted thathe or she must cultivate working relationships fast.Because they had done it often before, most peoplein the unit we studied were very skillful at this. Inaddition, Penn's preference for preproduction re-hearsal, as well as certain other structural aspectsof the work, helped people get to know each otherquickly.

Penn had scheduled a week of rehearsal time at theend of the preproduction phase, which was an un-usual thing to do. During production, actors wouldnot all work together at the same time. The rehearsalweek had enabled Penn and the cast to experiencethemselves as a team. It gave actors the chance tolearn and develop confidence in Penn's way of work-ing without being under the pressure of the shootingschedule. Actors thought this rehearsal was so im-

portant that they agreed to work the rehearsal weekat the union scale of pay, which was far below thesalary rate for which they had contracted to do therest of the film.

Another characteristic which accelerates the teamprocess is the isolation that is typical of the studioproduction process, and which Penn particularly in-sisted on during rehearsal week. People worked in-tensively together without any interruptions forhours at a time. The isolation increased concentra-tion on the task and the intensity of personal inter-action. It enabled a great deal of work to be done ina relatively short time. This way of working is verystimulating to participants, but it is also extremelytiring. Such intensity can usually be maintainedonly for short periods and is, therefore, best sched-uled immediately before the main task is to begin.

On any project, the development of task familiar-ity and good working relationships takes a formalcommitment of time and money. Usually thisprocess calls for the manager's active participation,not only because of his or her central involvementin the project, but also because, as a signal frommanagement, this will show that the process itselfis to be taken seriously. For instance, no ringingphone ever broke people's concentration during re-hearsal week. Penn had forbidden all telephone callsduring working hours, including his own.

In the business and industrial world, initial socializa-tion of this kind is often skimped or neglected. Theprocess can be formal or informal and can centeron task and on personal working relationships orboth. Formal task-centered sessions such as orienta-tions, briefings, planning meetings, and so on, givepeople a chance to develop a sense of their manageras a person, of his or her expectations and conceptsof the project, of his or her ways of working. Unlessthey have had a chance to discuss the task witheach person, managers cannot assume that peopleknow what is expected of them.

It is harder to specify what the informal opportun-ities are for socialization in any particular group."Shooting the breeze" in the early days of a projectis often a valuable way of developing relationships,and is not simply time-wasting, even though it maylook like it. All temporary systems tend to build uptheir own mini-culture of jokes, language, and sharedexperiences which can only happen as people inter-act. In the film unit production phase, the mini-cultures developed automatically during the twomeals a day that people ate together, and in the

Managing creativity 63

waiting periods between setups. Other temporarysystems don't have such useful interstices of timebuilt into their structure. Socializing has to occur inother ways, such as at lunch, in carpools, in con-versations in the washroom, or around the watercooler.

Sometimes wives and husbands also need to be in-volved in temporary projects, particularly if laterperiods of stress are predictable. At these timesworkers will need support and understanding fromspouses of whom they've seen too little. Because itis relatively easy for the husband or wife of an actoror cameraman to understand the product, film unitshave a distinct advantage over technical projects inthis respect. On projects where the work is eitherclassified or incomprehensible to the layperson,managers may need to make special efforts to in-volve spouses.

Last, but certainly not least, is the matter of thelocal organizational climate. Management does notalways accept the fact that time for people to developgood relationships is an appropriate use of resources.Even where it is accepted, some methods will bemore acceptable and seem more natural than others,both in the organization at large and among thepeople who are being recruited to the temporaryproject. If the idea of such preparation is completelyunusual, the group may have to adopt a low profileto prevent its appearing either to be an elite or inneed of special nursing.

Once a manager has developed a sense of the likelystructure of his temporary system, he or she canplan much of this socialization process in the ab-stract. When the group convenes, he or she canmake readjustments according to the specific char-acteristics of the people who have been recruited orassigned to the project.

Sources of motivation

The film director has none of the rewards and penal-ties traditionally available to the manager of a per-manent system. Because so many above-the-linepeople are indispensable to completion of the film,the director cannot usually transfer or terminatethem, and because the roles and responsibilities havebeen contracted in advance, he or she cannot pro-mote or give raises or improve fringe benefits.

For Night Moves, indispensability was highest andmost obvious in the case of Gene Hackman, the

star, whose life throughout production was insuredfor the cost of the film to date. But indispensabilitywas not limited to actors. In the technical area,even the footage shot by the regular director ofphotography had a different look from footage shotby a subordinate while the director was sick.

Managers of all temporary systems share many ofthese constraints. Many project managers do in-fluence the later careers of staff who continue towork in the same organization in their periodic per-formance evaluations. But managers do not usuallyhave full administrative authority for raises or term-inations. On complex technical tasks, a good manypeople may be indispensable, either because theirexpertise is irreplaceable or because tight schedulesand deadlines mean there is no time to replace them.In these circumstances, the project manager, like thefilm director, must depend on four sources of mo-tivation:

1A sense of professionalism--By this we mean com-mitment to the standards for task and personal be-havior set by professional peers inside and outsidethe system. Where the manager shares the samestandards or those of a closely related discipline, heor she can often act as a natural pace-setter.

The basic need to exercise competence—-The oppor-tunity to use existing knowledge, to develop ideas,and to learn something new, gives most people asense of competence and satisfaction, which in turnstrengthens their motivation. However, the oppor-tunity to exercise competence requires a fairly pre-cise definition of the job, a good match with theindividual's capabilities, and a reasonable workload.

When people are struggling with a job for whichthey are not sufficiently qualified, it is difficult forthem to feel confident or competent. When peopleare in an idle waiting period, which creates bore-dom, when they are so overworked that they don'thave time to do anything well, or when they areuncertain about what is expected of them, then theirmotivation also drops. A workflow that is even involume and that only somewhat exceeds presentcapabilities is the ideal (though many project man-agers who read this will view this ideal as the anti-thesis of their own experience).

Workflow planning is at least as critical in tem-porary systems as in permanent ones. In planningNight Moves, the producer had budgeted shooting

64 Harvard Business Review March-April 1977

Three directors' approaches to film making

Film directors view the creativeprocess in one of two ways:either as something they care-fully work out in advance or assomething they improvise asthey go along. The form andcontent of the film can be moreor less fixed in either of the threephases of preproduction, pro-duction, or postproduction. Thedirector's strategic preferencefor which phase is most impor-tant is a function of his personalstyle.

Some directors prepare films asfully as possible in advance.They know exactly what theywant: "It's all in their heads."They put it down on paper andhave a completely detailedshooting script before the firstshot is made, in this case, theconceptualization of the filmoccurs completely in the prepro-duction phase. Shooting andediting become a matter of car-rying out predetermined instruc-tions in order to constructsomething that faithfully repre-sents what has already beenimagined. Directors who use thisapproach in effect make all cre-ative choices in preproductionand achieve a maximum amountof closure before shootingbegins.

Alfred Hitchcock is a directorwho puts maximum emphasison preproduction. He makesand fixes all his decisions inadvance. In preproduction heworks out a full shooting scriptand editing plan, leaving noopportunity for later changes asthe result of creative collabora-tion with actors or editor. Oftenhe is not even present duringproduction. For Hitchcock, theexciting part of film making is inthe planning. Hitchcock hassaid: "When I've gone throughthe script and created the pic-ture on paper, for me the cre-ative job is done, and the rest isjust a bore."*

Other directors prefer to leaveconceptualization open at leastthrough the production phase.For them a crucial aspect of thecreative process occurs inimprovising and collaboratingwith actors and/or technicians toevolve the film—perhaps a col-laboration which they repeatwith some of the same peoplefrom film to film. For some direc-tors trie making of a film is asearch. They do not knowexactly what they will do, but inproduction they find it.

Ingmar Bergman also spendstime on his scripts which hewrites himself, and in planninghis films. However, these effortsare simply the technical basis forthe creative process that occursin production as he works withthe actors, and where he isalways willing to make script andshooting changes. Bergmanwants to capture the fresh, cre-ative urge that occurs in actingof the highest caliber, which ischaracterized by a spontaneitythat cannot be practiced inadvance. Bergman once saidabout his search for the creativeurge: "I believe it is precisely thiswhich keeps me in films, holdsme fascinated by the medium.The development and retentionof a sudden burst of life.. ."t

The range of a director's choicein the postproduction phasedepends on his "heaviness" orpower. The index which mostdefines the director's authority isthe profitability of his last film. Ifit was a blockbuster he will have"final cut" authority on his nextfilm. That is to say, no one willhave the right to change his finaledited version. If he does nothave final cut authority, he prob-ably will have the right to "pre-view cut" but the distributingorganization will retain the rightto make subsequent changes.

But only if the director has finalcut power, as Arthur Penn does,can the finished film be theresult of one man's vision. Insuch a case everyone has todefer to his creative conceptuali-zation, which is one of the normsof the industry. Many people areanxious to work with directorswho have this heavy-weightauthority, for with it go power,respect, and charisma. Lessmeddling and much less com-promise occur on such a film.

Directors who are able to deferfinal choices until the postpro-duction editing phase can do soby having a very high shootingratio (the number of feet of filmexposed during the productionrelative to the actual length ofthe final film); and a very highcoverage (the number of dif-ferent ways in which a particularfilm is shot). They may takemany different versions of ascene without reaching a finalconclusion about the way inwhich they want the audience toexperience it.

Arthur Penn's approach to filmmaking is much closer to that ofBergman than to Hitchcock. Inhis judgment it is critical for theacting process to be one ofimmediacy and freshness, spon-taneity and authenticity. Hisobjective is to create an authen-tic happening which, in beingphotographed, will generate thefilm material. He wants to createthis in as many forms as possi-ble; to photograph it in as manyways as possible, leaving thechoice of what will appear in thefinal film until the editing phase.This is both an exciting and tax-ing way to work, and the impor-tance of his leadership style liesin the way he brings it about.

'Francois Trufiaut, Hitchcock (New YorkSimon & Schuster, 1967;

tStig Bjorkman et al, Bergman on Berg-man (New York: Simon & Schuster.1974],

Managing creativity 65

Gene Hackman, left, and Arthur Penn set up a scene in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum for Night Moves,

66 Harvard Business Review March-April 1977

time and costs with great precision. The tight sched-ule produced a continual sense of pressure, but peo-ple also derived a sense of satisfaction in meetingthe schedule effectively day by day.

The need for approval and appreciation—ArthurPerm's sensitivity to, and responsiveness in workingwith, actors is unusual. Actors were pleased to knowthat he valued and appreciated both their technicaland their personal abilities. His genuine yet dis-criminating approval and encouragement freed ac-tors from anxiety about his acceptance of their workand released psychological energy which enabledthem to go on performing as well or better, evenwhen they were tired. Penn's ability to express hisappreciation articulately and nonverbally was a keyfactor in creating an encouraging climate for theactors.

The ability to provide clear, realistic, positive feed-back is unusual. In the business world, managersfinding this difficult often tend to emphasize thenegative. One manager we know said to a top sub-ordinate at performance appraisal time, "I've givenyou an A on everything. You know what's good solet's talk about the bad," and then proceeded to doso for an hour. The absence of managerial approvalcan have several causes. Many managers are em-barrassed at either giving or receiving praise. Somealso find it hard to describe exactly what it is abouta piece of work or a person that; they value. In U.S.society there is also a semiconscious fear that thegiving and receiving of verbal approval betweenmen is somehow effeminate—much better to do itwith a slap on the back.

Finally, there is the matter of organizational culture.In the film and theater world, people tend to expressfeelings more openly and spontaneously than else-where; that is their main task, and they have un-usual skill in doing so. But the style that is usualin the acting world can sound effusive and insincerein a more austere technical or scientific setting.However, if expression of approval is to be an effec-tive means of motivation, each manager has to finda language in which to phrase it; a language thatsounds natural both to the organization and to himor her personally.

Long-term career self-interest-In the case of this filmunit, Penn's reputation and past successes un-doubtedly attracted people who hoped to learn anddevelop while working with him. They hoped to

enhance their own professional reputation throughboth the high quality of work they expected to ac-complish under his direction and their associationwith a film they hoped would be a commercialsuccess.

Similarly, people who are looking for career growthand financial rewards in business organizations tendto be keenly aware of the effects of present perfor-mance on future assignments. Business people arelikely to value tasks that contribute to their futuredevelopment above tasks that offer only a repetitionof past experience or a technical detour away fromtheir main career. In order to create maximal fitbetween personal aspirations and task needs, man-agers must find time to ask people about their careerplans and to listen to what they have to say aboutthem.

Some managers are reluctant to do this because theyfear that conversations about career goals will raiseunrealistic hopes in their subordinates, or that dur-ing the conversation they will commit themselvesto promises they cannot fulfill. But most subordi-nates are realistic enough to know that it is impos-sible to satisfy all their needs even most of the time.

Instead, they are likely to be motivated almost asmuch by the knowledge that their manager is mak-ing an effort to understand and take account of theirinterests, as they are by any actual opportunities forgrowth that managers offer them.

Stimulating creativity

There is another aspect of motivation so importantthat we want to pay separate attention to it. Becauseof Penn's approach to film making, and his emphasison the acting moment, his working relationshipswith actors were of crucial importance. He neededthem to behave in ways that were spontaneous,authentic, original, and imaginative; to take risksby trying things they perhaps had never tried before;to be open to his suggestions and ideas; and to de-velop new ideas of their own and work with them.He was constantly open to the moment, not onlyabandoning his own preconceived ideas about howa line or scene should be played, but also activelyhelping actors shed their own preconceptions aswell.

Susan Clark, the actress, commented: "Arthur main-tains a two-way avenue of communication whichmust be kept open for suggestions and changes; the

Managing creativity 67

relationship is vital." Gene Hackman said: "Not onlydid he set everything up beautifully but he canthink on his feet. He wings it as well as he plans itand maybe even a little better. That's his power.That's what's fresh in the film. Any moment, youmay catch an idea. When an idea is new and in-fused with that thought energy, it tends to sparkalive and all sorts of things can happen."

Penn's encouragement and enthusiasm both elicitedand rewarded the actor's performances as well astheir trust in him. One particular technique con-tributed to this good working relationship. If Pennwas dissatisfied, he would never give blatant nega-tive feedback. Instead, making very small adjust-ments, he would keep asking his actors for some-thing more: "This time maybe you could take alittle more time" or "Let the hand go a little earlier."By encouraging his actors to adopt a different toneor attitude in their behavior rather than criticizingthe whole performance and person, Penn avoideddamaging the actor's sense of confidence and com-petence.

Another thing Penn did to avoid negative feedbackwas to refrain from interrupting a take once he hadstarted it. His patience deliberately avoided the im-plication, "It's so bad that I don't want to see anymore of it." The fact that even their unsuccessfulefforts received respect was an important conditionfor risk taking in creative work.

By contrast, Penn was directive and relatively distantwith the technical crews, from whom he demandedlittle spontaneous creativity. Because he needed tospend so much time with his actors, Penn collab-orated little with the technical people themselves,leaving the responsibility for their technical effec-tiveness to the directors of photography, sound, andart work.

Penn's style of work—filming many versions of thesame scene—made the technical workload partic-ularly heavy. Sometimes the sheer pressure of workled the crews to feel that technical quality wasbeing sacrificed. This mattered to them because theirreputation depended on the opinion of studio headswho looked at the day-by-day screenings. Not all ofthe technical personnel understood Penn's way ofworking. People who had mostly worked on filmswhere planning and closure occurred in preproduc-tion assumed at first that his openness to improvisa-tion denoted uncertainty, that "he didn't know be-forehand what he wanted to do," and that he "wasn't

sure." When crew members did come to understandhis style, they realized that the final choice aboutwhat the film was to contain would come in thepostproduction phase, and felt excluded from thecreative process.

Because of his priorities, Penn—consciously or un-consciously—varied the way in which he related topeople. While he took time for actors to developthe spontaneous ideas and behavior which heneeded, he also handled the stresses of time sched-ule and budget in a way which ensured that theproduction phase was completed on time.

Leadership style

In the ruled insert on page 64 we describe majordifferences between the work styles of directors suchas Alfred Hitchcock, Ingmar Bergman, and ArthurPenn. All three men produce fine films, but each hasa different approach to the development of ideas andto the stage at which decisions are made and closureis reached.

Any temporary system has a timespan within whichit must both generate the idea or design of its prod-uct, and then carry this through to a finished form.During this process there will be periods when theemphasis is on the production of ideas and alterna-tives, on improvisation, exploration, and experi-mentation. And there will be periods when ideasmust be evaluated, decisions made, and movementaccelerated toward closure of some kind.

Given the degree of precision and detailed planningthat most scientific and engineering endeavors re-quire, it seems unlikely that the spectrum of pos-sible managerial styles would be as broad as thespectrum from Hitchcock to Penn, but some varia-tion will undoubtedly exist.

A key element to a project's success will, therefore,be the manager's ability to distinguish between the"idea-generating" and "decision-making" periods asthey occur and alternate in his organization; to de-termine how much overlap he wishes to encouragebetween them; and to find ways of relating to sub-ordinates according to their engagement in either ofthese phases. The manager needs to orchestrate thetwo appropriately. For while being authoritarianwhen ideas are needed certainly kills creativity,being appreciative and acceptant when a major de-cision is needed can kill the whole project, or pre-vent it moving to a next vital stage on time.

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It is our impression that most managers are trainedto handle the management of the implementationphase better than the management of the "genera-tive" phase. We have described how Perm workedto create a climate of acceptance and encourage-ment that freed creativity by reducing actors' anx-iety about their work. Management of anxiety isan important part of a manager's role. He needs bothto understand its negative effects and to avoid be-havior which is likely to arouse it, as well as protectsubordinates from external stresses which are likelyto cause it.

It is possible for managers in business and industryto follow Penn's example, and many do so intuitive-ly. But it is rarer for a manager to consider thisprocess consciously, or to try to become aware ofthe different ways in which he needs to relate todifferent people, or to the same people at differenttimes. The intensity of the director-actor relation-ship will not necessarily occur or be appropriate inall temporary systems. In some scientific or manu-facturing environments, for instance, the same in-tensity might seem excessive. But there are equi-valent behaviors in all organizations and culturesthat communicate a basic acceptance of people andtheir ideas, and encourage them to produce moregood ones.

All of this goes further to explain why a director'sor manager's own personal behavior is a very im-portant source of motivation in a temporary system.He or she can show personal appreciation and ap-proval, or he can show neglect, apathy, or disap-proval. He can motivate through personal attentionand social contact. He can demotivate by separatinghimself from certain members of the organization—which may happen inevitably even though he wouldwant it otherwise. He can increase or decrease theamount of creative participation that he invitesfrom different people, and vary the intensity of hisworking relationship with them. All these are subtle,often nonverbal, interpersonal cues.

At the same time it is impossible for any managerto interact closely with a large group of people fora long period of time. In the film unit, the technicalcrew felt undervalued because the director's mainattention was on the actors. There may be suchgroups in any temporary organization. One way toavoid such a problem is for the manager to identifythose people who, for some reason, he will pay lessattention to, and plan a complementary role for asubordinate who can provide the necessary recogni-tion, appreciation, or encouragement.

Another approach a manager can use is to hire asubordinate whose personal style complementsrather than coincides with his or her own. This goesagainst the grain of most people's natural tendencyto hire others with the same characteristics andvalues as their own, but it does eliminate the strainof denying one's own limitations and attempting toplay a "supermanager" role.

Stress and conflict

How did people cope with the stresses caused bytight time and budget pressures, estrangement fromfamiliar people and surroundings, and uncertaintyabout how good the film would be?

One important element in reducing stress was thenorm of helpful collaboration that prevailed. Thistook the form of sensitivity to other people's feel-ings, and a willingness to provide interpersonal sup-port. Usually this consisted of a symbolic gesture ofsome kind that could vary from a sympathetic lookor a pat on the back, to doing an errand for some-one, listening to a person's worries, or—in the caseof an actress—cooking a Thanksgiving dinner for agroup of people on location. Nurturant gestures ofthis kind were protective and reassuring. They gavepeople a sense that, to some small extent, otherswere willing to take care of them in a way thatnormally occurs more in personal life than at work.Such gestures were doubly important when locationshooting separated people from the personal rela-tionships that were their usual source of caring andconcern.

Symbolic support of this kind can also have consid-erable importance between a manager and a groupof subordinates, as well as between individuals. Forexample, in one high-technology company, an over-burdened project team was told that the companypresident had called a meeting at a nearby hotellate on Friday afternoon, which everyone had toattend. They arrived, tired and dispirited, expectinga heavy chewing out over time-schedule delays. In-stead, they found themselves at a surprise cocktailparty, hearing the president say: "There's still a longway to go, but I want you to know we appreciateyour efforts so far." Then he sent everyone home.

Penn dealt with stresses caused by interruptionthrough unusually careful protection of the workareas. Gene Hackman explained the reason: "There'sa funny kind of family atmosphere on a film that isgenerally created by the director. Many times that

Managing creativity 69

family balloon can be punctured quite readily by anoutside influence. If you are working on a scene andyou see out of the corner of your eye a foreignobject, someone standing by the camera, I for one,get a little tight."

In the business and industrial world, geographicboundaries are less easily monitored, but there areother ways of protecting people's concentration onthe task. For example, many disturbances tend to becaused by organizational or personal administrativeproblems. In some cases it may be worth appointinga support person who can buffer disturbances fromthe outside, and can service the team—for instance,someone who will follow up on a lost paycheck,an undelivered desk, a purchasing snarl-up, or aleaking roof above a drawing board.

It may even be worth having someone take care ofminor personal needs too, such as making dental orhairdresser's appointments, cashing checks, or find-ing out whether a repaired car is ready for pickup.There is a common assumption that "personal"administrative problems should be taken care of bythe individual, but all too often this can only bedone during working hours. In the film unit theproduction secretaries provided such personal ser-vices. Penn worked under the notion that "anythingwhich disturbs is a disturbance," and did not try tocategorize distractions as "personal" or "official."

Another common source of stress in temporarygroups is the conflict that occurs between peoplewho must work closely together. One of the mainthrusts of current organizational development workis the encouragement of conflict resolution bymeans of confrontation. However, time in a filmunit—a marginal cost of $2.5,000 per day for NightMoves—is too valuable to spend on resolving dif-ficulties in working relationships which will sooncome to an end. Here a major professional conven-tion of the film business protected the work. Thisunwritten law requires that no matter how tense,dissatisfied, or upset actors and director may be,they keep their complaints and conflicts off the setand out of formal working hours. In nonworkinghours people dealt with stress in various ways. Somewithdrew—to books, music, alcohol, or drugs. Somebecame more than usually gregarious.

One main source of potential stress and tension inevery temporary—and permanent—system, is rarelytalked about. It is the personal behavior of themanager. For example, some managers look onlyfor problems and faults in whatever their colleagues

and subordinates tell them. As a result, subordinatesmay tend actively to avoid such a manager in orderto protect themselves from the angry feelings whichsuch critical behavior arouses.

Managers can do even very small things that con-tribute to or alleviate stress if they continually re-peat them. For instance, if a team is somewhat slowin ending a coffee break, the director or manager canadopt an authoritarian tone of voice and yell hisorders to "get back to work." Or he can stand up,point silently to his watch, and rely on his subor-dinates' sense of professionalism to motivate themto get moving. In the latter case, there is less chancethat employees will experience the message as areproach, and so less chance that the level of con-fidence and trust which they have in their managerwill be reduced.

Because he was so acutely aware of the schedule,Penn was a hard taskmaster, asking people to workintensely for long hours. Gene Hackman describedthe way in which Penn could turn the time pressurehe was under into increased work momentum forthe actors: "He is a terrific manager. He keeps itrolling. There is a little part of his brain that iscounting dollars. But when he tells you to keep itrolling, he tells you, 'good for your energy; let's keepit moving.' "

Most temporary systems share the stresses of the filmunit: uncertainty of outcome, intense time andbudget pressures, long hours of work, and more thanusual interdependence between fellow workers. Inlooking for ways to think about this aspect of theirresponsibilities, many managers, particularly scien-tists and engineers, naturally look to physical modelsof stress. As a result they make the assumption thatstress in human beings is akin to stress in materials;that everything will be fine as long as a certain limitof elasticity is not passed. But, unfortunately, stressin people is cumulative. The only way for a man-ager to be aware of how much and what kind ofstress his people are experiencing is to monitor it—by asking them and listening to what they tell him.

The final stress that film and theater people managewell is the business of "letting go." The director orproducer usually arranges some event that marksclosure—such as a cast party. And in fact manymanagers do the same, using a party or dinner as anopportunity to make a final expression of apprecia-tion, to plan a moment for their subordinates tocelebrate and take pride in their achievements beforemoving on. People who manage this kind of ritual

70 Harvard Business Review March-April 1977

smoothly are at an advantage, but it does not comenaturally to everyone. In this case the managerneeds to find someone who will help or even dothis for him,- one's own boss is the first source ofhelp. The process also has some importance to themanager of the project to which people are nextassigned. For if management has provided some ap-propriate ending that gives subordinates a sense ofclosure on their last project, people will feel psy-chologically freer to commit themselves to the nexttask.

Rewards of temporary systems

A friend in the film world summed up the challengeof working in temporary systems for us: "Really thething about temporary systems is that you have tobe more interpersonally competent. People have tobe able to accept bull and come back the next dayand get on with the work just the same; live throughcrisis and stress and provide support for each otherto get through it; and still keep the creative ideascoming, through it all."

In businesses—such as the film industry and thetheater—where high levels of interpersonal sensitiv-ity and expressiveness are necessary to complete thesystem's task most people are already interpersonal-ly competent. They are trained to be. But in organ-izations where the task depends on a process ofscientific rationality, interpersonal competence isnot immediately and self-evidently necessary, andtends not to be highly valued. The skills needed tomanage or be a member of a temporary system willnot be in great supply, and may even be regardedas "counterculture."

The cultivation of higher levels of interpersonalskill in temporary systems, which do not have anintrinsic high value for them, is an area in whichmore research and experimentation is urgentlyneeded. We have two reasons for saying this. Oneis, of course, related to the elimination of problemsthat prevent tasks being accomplished successfully.The other is related to the quality of human experi-ence that can occur in a temporary organization.

Part of the excitement in making a film comes fromthe product. The creation of a film involves moredrama and more opportunity for fantasy, for per-

sonal expressiveness and emotionality, than doesthe manufacture of, say, a refrigerator or a computerprogram. But some of the excitement comes fromthe organizational form itself. Temporary systemsprovide opportunities for intensity in work, and forcloseness and commitment in working relationshipswhich many though not all of us enjoy and valuehighly for limited periods of time. Because of thesetime and membership limits and the mutual com-mitment to a clear common goal, temporary systemshave the potential for being more exciting places towork than permanent ones.

People who have participated in such systems oftenhave a sense of having experienced their work lifemore fully and excitingly than in other settings.Not all the experience is necessarily good. Obviouslyit includes stress, frustration, and sometimes isola-tion. But because the goal is circumscribed and time-limited, it becomes possible for people to put out agreater effort to achieve it than is possible on acontinuing basis. When the exertion of such effortis accomplished by achievement of the goal, byfruitful collaborative relationships with others, andby the appreciation of those who led the work, mostpeople experience an important and positive senseof satisfaction.