It’s all about what it looks like and it doesn’t look so good anymore. Read More…
It’s all about what it looks like and it doesn’t look so good anymore. Read More…
Three days on from her death and the debates are still fiercely raging about Margaret Thatcher’s time as PM. They all seem to revolve around the same theme: that Thatcher’s spiteful policies ruined lives and divided the country.
In the twenty-year period since she left office the debate has become criminally over-simplified and certain myths persist, almost entirely unchallenged.
The most significant of which is that she destroyed the British coal mining industry.
This is simply not true.
The fact is that she inherited an industry already in precipitous decline, largely due to increasing global competition from places like Australia, America and even South Africa. See the chart below:
The majority of mine closures had already occurred under her two Labour predecessors, Harold Wilson and James Callaghan.
And the 1984 (UK) Monopolies and Mergers Commission found that 75% of British coal mines were losing money, costing the taxpayer an annual £1.3 billion in government subsidies.
The truth of which couldn’t be avoided: British coal was on life support and showing few signs of ever regaining consciousness.
All that was left to Thatcher and her Conservative government was to pull the plug –which they did.
It is perhaps here that one could take issue with the way in which Thatcher decided to handle it. She viewed it not only as laying to rest a dying industry but also an opportunity to completely crush the trade unions, who she believed were destroying Britain.
So she fought ideologically with ideologues. And won.
But what was lost amidst all the political grandstanding, were the genuine fears and concerns of the coal miners, who for generations had only ever known that type of work and that type of life, and for whom the prospect of retraining and having to begin again was daunting.
And that was why they fought as hard as they did. However misinformed they might have been about the future of British coal.
Maybe if she’d tried to reach them directly and explain the economic realities of their situation, they would have understood that if they didn’t take the pain now that one day their children would have to. That they could be part of a new Britain, that they’d be helped through this cruel time.
But the actions of their union leaders, in the past, had ensured the downfall of her predecessor and Thatcher was determined not to suffer the same fate. The miners were unfortunate collateral.
Could she be accused of coldness? Yes. Arrogance? Maybe.
But, deliberately destroying the coal mining industry and the lives of the coal miners? No.
Their lives were, by harsh circumstance, caught up in an elephantine battle between two competing visions for Britain; against the backdrop of a rapidly changing global economy, beyond the control of anyone, least of all Thatcher.
The crowing over Margaret Thatcher”s death is neither tasteful nor rational. Read More…
Season Six, Episode One: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
Death. It’s the first thing you thought of when Don Draper presented that ad with the rumpled pile of clothes lying on the beach and footsteps leading off from them into the unknown.
It was beautiful. It was art. But it was dark.
And so it went for the long anticipated premiere of Mad Men season six. It began with a voiceover from Don silently quoting from Inferno:
“Midway through our life’s journey I went astray from the straight road and awoke to find myself alone in a dark wood.”
This sober sentence seemed somewhat incongruous with its setting: Don, in Hawaii, on Waikiki beach, reading Dante; Megan, in a summery bikini drinking a blue cocktail.
Surely this is Heaven and not Hell?
Don’s dissatisfaction, however, is evident. He seems somehow detached from this colourful scene. Megan is happy and chit chattering; Don is quiet (he has no dialogue for the first five minutes) and his smile strained. They have sex and Megan is giggling but it seems he’s only going through the motions. It’s a pensive, slightly unsure Don, not the confident, alpha male we’re used to, although he still quite convincingly wears that costume, even if it is starting to look a little anachronistic.
He’s played Don Draper for a long time, the lead role in a hit play. But the audiences are moving on, the supporting characters are starting to shift around him and the set is slowly being dismantled. The future has finally caught up with him.
Back at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce it’s clearly the late 1960’s, the men are starting to look shaggier and shabbier and are definitely turning on and tuning in. The ubiquitous liquor bottle has been replaced with the marijuana cigarette. And as generously as SCDP’s senior executives partake of the grain, so do the younger generation of the herb.
As in Hawaii, Don feels awkward in these surroundings. He’s still creatively brilliant but but…
One night at the hotel, whilst still on holiday in Waikiki Beach, he’d been sat having a solitary drink at the bar, when a drunken young soldier serving in Vietnam had engaged him in conversation. “Were you in Korea?” he asks.
“Briefly,” answers Don. Or was it Dick? Which one answered? Both served, both died and were then reborn.
This well-intentioned young man reminds him of that fraud, that stolen identity.
He is an impostor, not just Dick Whitman playing Don Draper, but for all his outward success he still feels like that hapless failure inside. “Noone loves Dick Whitman,” as Megan had jokingly cooed in the season premiere of season five.
In Dante’s tenth circle of Hell, the deceptive are punished. These are the alchemists, the counterfeiters, the perjurers and the impostors. As they afflicted mankind with their disease, they are afflicted with diseases in the afterlife.
Sinon suffers from a burning fever; Myrrha is mad.
And Don is himself and no more.
Image Credit: AMC. Artist: Brian Sanders
Everyone is fighting their own private battle. So be nice. Read More…
An open letter to Elon Musk & South Africa’s investor community.
I read two articles recently, Duncan Alberts’ “Funding hurts SA tech start-ups” and Alistair Fairweather’s “Elon Musk: Pretoria’s billionaire space explorer and inventor.” Both of them resonated with me and I wanted to add my voice to the discussion based on my experience at Triggerfish. There is no doubt that a shortage of risk capital exists in South Africa. I see entrepreneurial activity all around me and I’m sure that if you went onto the campus of any university in the country, you’ll find some amazing ideas. I believe South African creativity, and indeed African creativity, is as good here as it is anywhere else in the world. Visionary entrepreneurs are out there for sure – ready and able to make a big difference to their communities – but visionary investors are in short supply.
Private capital is not finding its way to startup companies and high-growth opportunities.This does not lead to a healthy economy. South African investors are unwilling to take risks. I’m not sure how much genuine venture capital is available in this country, but I doubt it’s more than R1 billion, if that, a drop in the ocean of what’s needed to build game changing companies that compete on the world stage. If we are unwilling to take risks, if we are unwilling to accommodate audacious ambition, we are never going to get the innovative economy we need to build a prosperous and stable country. The companies that dominate South Africa’s economy are by and large the same companies that dominated the economy 10, 20, or even 30 years ago. There is little change.
Patrice Motsepe, South Africa’s billionaire mining magnate recently committed half his fortune to a foundation to provide for the poor. This is a magnanimous and noble gesture which should be celebrated, but if he had committed even $50m to a venture capital fund, on purely commercial terms, it would be the biggest VC fund in the country. What kind of impact would this have had? We’ll never know.
There is no shortage of capital in this country, from high net worth individuals to pension funds, family offices, and other large pools of savings. The custodians of these funds are not even allocating small sums of money to venture capital. Being an optimist by nature, I cannot understand how this can be. Diversifying your investments is science not wishful thinking.
Elon Musk was a keynote speaker at this year’s SXSW Interactive conference. He said, “I didn’t go into the space, car or solar industries because I thought I could make a risked adjusted return, I went into them because they were areas in which I wanted to make a difference.”
We need investors ready to make a difference.
Stuart Forrest, our CEO, was recently invited to speak at Stanford University’s Graduate School of Business. A two-time Oscar winning professor was astounded to hear that a small production company at the tip of Africa was able to produce two significant feature films outside the Hollywood studio system. Not even Pixar did that. And we did it here, in Africa. The reception he received in Silicon Valley stood in stark contrast to the obstacles we face in South Africa.
We can do great things, but if we want to go to space, like Elon Musk, we need investors ready for the ride. We cannot take on the giants by being timid. Nico Dekker of the Cape Town Film Studios once told me not to let people dismantle your dreams. You cannot walk around on-set at the Cape Town Film Studios and not be inspired. We have all the talent in this country to accomplish anything we set our minds to.
Triggerfish’s first film, Adventures in Zambezia, is Africa’s most successful film export since The Gods Must Be Crazy, released over 30 years ago. Zambezia was the first African film to be nominated for two Annie Awards – the animation industry’s Oscars. In half the territories it has released, Zambezia has either beaten or earned at least half the box office of its rivals in a country by film matrix. In Russia, it beat 3 Oscar nominated films and in territories like Poland, Croatia and the Benelux, it’s beating the majors outright – an incredible result for a first film. We expect our second film Khumba, starring Liam Neeson, to do even better.
Africa has a PR problem. We are all tired of the steady stream of negativity that emanates from our news. The sum of our hopes and dreams, and the potential that exists in this great continent, is worth more than the sensationalist stories that dominate the headlines. More than 2 million people around the world have watched Zambezia in the theatres. For many of them, it’s the first time they’ve been exposed to an African product. When Zambezia has finished its run on Pay TV, VOD, and free-to-view, tens of millions of people will have seen a story, from Africa, that isn’t about politics, murder, corruption, or poverty. It’s family entertainment; something kids can watch and get excited about.
We can change the way the world sees Africa. There is an unprecedented opportunity for us at Triggerfish to engage with the world in a way that better presents the hopes and aspirations of a billion people on this continent. We are building a global, film and entertainment company that showcases the best in African creativity and technical excellence.
Alistair Fairweather finishes his article by saying, “In some ways it is inevitable that we would lose a pioneer like Musk to the country that has specialised in welcoming them from around the globe for the last two centuries. But we should mourn that we could not offer someone like Musk more opportunities. And at the very least we should do more to celebrate him as one of our own.”
Triggerfish is already competing against the majors on the world stage. When I outline our plans to potential investors, I keep doubling our ambitions until I see the fear in their eyes. One day, we hope to meet an investor whose ambitions for us, puts fear in our eyes.
Elon, if you want to change the way the world sees Africa, call me.
Image Credit: ‘I dream’ The Imaginary Foundation
Britain”s leadership deficit and the state of utter stagnation.
Despite being such a great influence on cultures the world over, Britain is, in some ways, a strange society to live in. It does have certain clear advantages over South Africa, notwithstanding the weather of course, but in terms of its stability, its fascinating vibrant history, its centrality and primacy on the world stage, the availability of just about everything; all owing to it being something of a global hub between Europe, America and its former colonies, there is much to praise.
That being said, most of the optimism about Britain relates to its past and it is difficult to find individual citizens who are genuinely optimistic about its future. The stagnation of its political culture has run parallel to an increased pessimism about its society and even a sense of resignation about the whole process.
What is curious about Britain, and perhaps apparent only to those who live here for any length of time, is that its national demeanour and political culture has come to resemble the aforementioned weather: grey, unchanging, moist and stagnant. Of course, some sense of melancholy is perhaps inevitable after the loss of its empire followed by half a century of stable shrinking as a world power; one gets the sense from talking to a fairly broad cross-section of society that the greatest things have passed, the heroism of the Trafalgar, the Battle of Britain and D-day replaced by the dystopian squalor of reality television and celebrity gossip; the Britain of Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror. A sense of guilt runs parallel to this, those who are not lamenting the loss of Britain’s past, are apologetic that it happened at all, the middle ground is hard to find. This social malaise has been a gradual process amplified in recent years by economic decline as has the loss of animus in the political system.
Despite their mutual acrimony, the three main political parties share some common ground in their inability to offer any kind of vibrant vision for Britain’s renewal. The Labour party have lost what was previously their main USP: their perceived moral high-ground. Tony Blair, a shrewd and skilled politician and a far cry from Labour’s previous naive idealists, took a leaf out of both the respective left-wing hard-line unionist and right-wing Thatcherite books in his fairly autocratic style of personality politics. There are aspects of Blair that I admire but, having run Britain like a mafia organisation for a decade and embroiled it in an unpopular and damaging foreign conflict it is hard for Labour to claim to be the voice of the common man any longer. They now tread a deft line between uncharismatic incompetence, thinly veiled corporatism and champagne socialist hypocrisy, elegantly distilled in their gormless leader Ed Milliband; a man whose election as leader over his more charismatic brother was predicated on his endorsement by Britain’s racketeering unions and whose main political tactic is the repetition of the hypocritical mantra of “same old Tories!”
The Liberal Democrats, for a time, seemed to offer a middle way. Prior to the last election their popularity climbed, their leader was young and fresh-faced with a strong academic background and they were untarnished by the historical baggage of the other two. Indeed their own history as a breakaway party gave them increased credibility of a sort. However, the ominous signs were there in the run-up to the election for those who knew what to look for. The Lib Dems didn’t so much offer a fresh new vision so much as one that slalomed between the views of the other two. During the prime ministerial debate Nick Clegg commented that the more David Cameron and Gordon Brown bickered, the more alike they sounded, however, this did not bode well for him either as he was attempting to secure the apparently centrist gap between the two. The party has now been abandoned by swathes of former supporters on the left and right, their personality assimilated into the murk of coalition politics. To the right they are pliant and ineffectual, useful only insofar as they were able to make a Tory government more palatable to liberal voters in the form of the coalition. To the left, they are sell-outs to the right, pure and simple.
The Conservative party too, seem to have lost their identity. In their scramble for the centrist position they are led by an ungainly bunch of what Thatcher would have called ‘wets’, with the Tory old guard playing their part from the shadows. For many libertarian or conservative citizens, Britain’s last fifty years has been a repetitive cycle of Labour coming into power on the basis of popular but idealistic and impractical policies, leaving the Tories with the task of having to clean up their mess by implementing unpopular but necessary readjustments. After years of money-squandering from Labour and a turgid public sector bursting at the seams, fiscal Conservatism seemed like an attractive prospect for many disillusioned Brits but since they have come to power, they have stumbled from one humiliating catastrophe to the next. Even staunch Conservative voters who have never deviated from their core party even during Labour’s glory years of the late 90s, are now cradling their foreheads in embarrassment; the administration is doing itself no favours.
Enduring both crippling economic woes and an almost pubescent political identity crisis is certainly taking its toll on Britain’s morale and collective will. The weakness of both leadership and the opposition is serving to prolong the recession and, by extension, the loss of optimism; they are without a doubt, mutually reinforcing problems. Is this a new phase of terminal and permanent decline? The political scene is desolate but Britain is a an island nation with cold grey winters, battered by countless wars and invasions over the years, and thus imbued with a unique ability to limp on. What is needed for some sense of renewal in this country is more than cabinet reshuffles and bitter opposition. British political parties need to stop trying to have it both ways in the battle for the centre ground and to regain their sense of identity. Reinvention is inevitable and the party faithful of all three entities are nearing the end of their tether. It is essential that neither they nor the electorate recede into nihilism and resignation. But who knows how long this slump will continue?
Whereas America thrives on patriotism and optimism, Britain gets by on irony and lugubrious self-deprecation. So until we find a way out of this economic and existential ditch, we will at least have the capacity to enjoy complaining about it
I’ll never forget watching E.T. as a child, especially the scene where Elliot rides through the woods and E.T elevates the bike for a ride in the night sky against a full moon backdrop. Watching that scene, my heart soared and it felt like I was flying in my seat. Riding a BMX was never the same again.
Movies have the capacity to change the world, to inspire us, to imagine something different, to explore a life we might never lead ourselves. Since the very beginning of time, mankind has been telling stories, often with nothing more than a piece of chalk and the walls of a cave. We want to leave our mark. No matter how dark the road ahead, a movie can give us hope, it reminds us of how things could be.
Making a film is like starting a company. You need a business plan, a great story, and a script. You need a team of performers and talented staff to pull it off. You need investors and plenty of capital. You need to execute. And once you’ve made your film, you’ve got to sell it. All of it is hard, and frustrating, and no one ever gets it, but you do it anyway.
The risk profile of making a movie is similar to that of starting a company – failure is the most likely outcome. But if you do it again and again, and do it properly, things start to look different. A film slate becomes a business, much like venture capital, where the successful companies balance out the less successful ones across a portfolio of companies.
Africa needs more creative capital. We need to stop depending on resources to create value. We must dream, create, and invent. This is where the value is. Technology gives us the tools to compete globally, but now we must create an environment that encourages people to dream about achieving impossible things. We’re not there yet.
I once watched a documentary on American amateur rocketeers. I was expecting to see a group of crackpot garage mechanics playing with rusty engines. I was shocked to see the fervour, and the determination, and the cutting-edge technology of the rockets these space-lovers were building. This is the same crazy, fearlessness of the American entrepreneur. We need that. These rocketeers didn’t wait for permission, they didn’t ask if it was a good idea. They did it anyway.
In much the same way, we at Triggerfish are pioneers in African animation. We want to build a world-class studio that challenges the hegemony of Hollywood. We want to tell amazing stories that inspire a generation. Yes, we are ambitious, and we want to do it all from here – in Africa. That’s the starting point.
That’s our dream.
“What we must do, all of us, is insist that this society is one of open discourse.”
It may seem like this memoir has been a long-time coming, as Rushdie’s life story garners as much public interest as his vibrant and fantastical novels; but, given the harrowing nature of his experiences, it is not surprising that it took over two decades before he could commit the events to print. In February 1989, in response to claims that Rushdie’s novel constituted blasphemy against the prophet Mohammed, the theocratic leader of the Iranian dictatorship at the time, the Ayatollah Ruholla Khomeini, offered a bounty in his own name for murder of Mr Rushdie – a man who was neither a practising Muslim, nor an Iranian. It has been noted by many since then that this extraordinary offence to morality, free speech and the rule of law represented a foreshadowing of what we could expect from religious fundamentalism in years to come.
It was a watershed moment, an opportunity to set a precedent for how such barbarism could expect to be confronted in the future. But the reaction was less than satisfactory. While Rushdie himself has always been vocal in his praising of the agents assigned to protect his home; the diligence of the British authorities in assuring his safety; and the support of his friends and family, the response from religious figures the world over confirms the importance of protecting free expression from bogus claims of blasphemy. The Pope, Chief Rabbi of Israel, the Archbishop of Canterbury and many other nodding heads of various religious institutions, closed ranks and condemned the novel and its author. Elements of the intellectual and political community were also not without blame and many dithered as to whether he deserved their support and whether they could afford to offer it. In other words, offending a verminous religious dictator with the resources to fund and facilitate your assassination is a very efficient way of discovering who your friends are.
The years immediately following this debacle only grew darker for Rushdie; family, friends and colleagues (and even their families) were threatened and attacked, his Italian translator stabbed, his Japanese translator murdered. Desperate to appease his tormenters in order to put an end to such attacks, he published an article declaring that he had embraced Islam and apologising for his previous blasphemy, but this fell on deaf ears. Here again, was a foreshadowing of things to come; Rushdie discovered that the nature of fanaticism is that it cannot be reasoned with and does not seek dialogue. A similarly dark lesson was learned too late by Theo van Gogh who was murdered in the street for the film he made in partnership with Ayaan Hirsi Ali about the plight of Muslim women in Holland; as he lay in the street having been shot off his bike, he tried to reason with his killer before his throat was cut (Ms Hirsi Ali has since had to live a life of constant surveillance and protection comparable to that of Rushdie’s).
During his years on the run, possibly due to the publicity surrounding the initial circumstances, his life was erroneously characterised by some as a kind of glamorous Bond-esque existence; the international man of mystery always accompanied by black-suited anonymous agents. For his part he has always been puzzled by this association, “To me it felt like prison”. This is illustrated most harrowingly in his description of the panic he felt when a minor miscommunication about the whereabouts of his son led him to believe that he had been taken, the horror of such a thing is probably more vividly understood by those who have children, for my part, I can only imagine.
Ever since he became a hunted man, he has become a kind of go-to talking head when matters of free speech and offence, particularly in a religious context, are brought to the public square. And the multiple interviews and re-posting of his old articles over the past week have almost served to obscure his more comprehensive commentary on the matter: the book itself.
The interest in his story should not be surprising; Rushdie himself concluded that the tumult surrounding the publication of The Satanic Verses was bigger than either him or his work. I believe most people instinctively recognise the relevance of such cases to their own lives and to democracy. Others, sadly, recoil in fear. A number of rather flaccid platitudes (still in use today in relation either to Mr Rushdie’s case or to other examples of so-called ‘blasphemy’) were employed by those who failed to recognise the relevance of this struggle and wished to distance themselves from him. One Rushdie himself finds rather amusing is “he knew what he was doing”. In Rushdie’s words “it would be really strange, I thought, to spend five years writing a novel and not know what I was doing; what would that be, that act?” The absurdity of such a statement aside, the other implication is that he was trying to cause offence and expecting a response – which was simply not the case. Despite being a secularist, Rushdie’s writing is, for the most part, an overwhelmingly colourful homage to the diverse religious and cultural traditions of India and not an attempt to denigrate them. In fact, the ‘offensive’ chapter was an abstract dream sequence based on a religious myth that in no way sought to attack Islam or the Prophet Mohammed. However, even if he had sought to offend, as the creators of the recent controversial ‘film’ appear to have, it says nothing to justify the actions of those who react to it through a campaign of violence and intimidation, nor does the fact that the film is devoid of artistic merit. Indeed, another tactic adopted by those who sought to abandon Rushdie was to dodge the blasphemy question entirely by attacking the book on purely literary grounds, thereby spinelessly absolving them of the responsibility to stand up for freedom of expression. The literary or artistic worth of the material makes little difference to those who seek an excuse to commit acts of violence or surrender to them. To paraphrase Rushdie, when asked about the events of the last week, defending free speech sometimes involves defending people you don’t like and free speech includes the right to behave badly.
In Rushdie’s own words, “Censorship changes the subject and introduces a more tedious subject; it creates a more boring world.” Censorship does not respect the difference between trash and art. If we remove the right of the less pleasant elements of society to make trash, we give up great art as well. In a world where the right to ugly speech is not defended alongside the right to beautiful speech, we would possibly have already lost Salman Rushdie and his writing. Salman Rushdie’s journey should remind us all of the importance of defending what we have in free societies. Indeed, such cases as his are not merely a matter of private trauma but affect us all. This was eerily illustrated by Christopher Hitchens, who, in the conclusion of the chapter in his own memoir, detailing his friendship with Rushdie and his defence of him after the issuing of the fatwa, employs the phrase mutate nomine de te fabula naratatur, “change only the name and the story is about you.”
But fear not, opportunities abound. And are perhaps with film’s closest living relative: gaming.
At the recent Annecy International Animation Film Festival, I attended a presentation on the financing of animation films given by a very experienced panel of producers, distributors, and broadcasters. At the Q&A session afterwards, I asked them two questions:
a) when do they expect to see the first fully-funded animation feature film financed off a crowdfunding platform like Kickstarter? And,
b) given the rise of large digital platforms like The iTunes Store and Netflix, where do they see the economics of film production going?
After some whispering among themselves, the panel had no answer for either of these questions. Afterwards, the panel co-ordinator apologised to me saying the panelists “had probably never heard of Kickstarter”. The incumbents are either nervous or myopic.
Anyone who has been in the business of raising money for a film, or made a film, or tried to sell a film, will understand how brutal and heartbreaking the process is. Hollywood is not going to give you a break and independent producers are at the bottom of the food chain. If you’ve survived all three stages and your film is in the theatres, you are separated from your audience by the exhibitor, the distributor, the sales agent and multiple teams of expensive lawyers all looking for a slice of the pie (this is besides keeping your own investors happy). If you think start-up life is hard, don’t go near filmmaking.
The news is not all bad. The rise of large digital platforms like Netflix and Hulu and the explosion of smartphones and iPads present massive new opportunities for content creators to build and aggregate their own audiences. It’s remarkable how casual gaming companies like Zynga or Rovio (Angry Birds), have garnered tens of millions of active paying customers at a fraction of the cost of a typical studio film release – which can cost well over $30m in marketing and publicity alone.
Digital distribution has disrupted the music and book publishing industries. At Triggerfish Animation Studios, we’re excited about what digital distribution will do to the film industry and what that means for independent producers. But Hollywood functions as gatekeeper to audiences and they will not give this up without a fight. Hollywood has money, serious money. In its last financial quarter, Disney generated over $2B in free cash flow. There is too much at stake for them to roll over.
What Hollywood does, and does so well, is tell stories. They sell you the dream. Even today, I bet more people have heard of Tom Cruise than Steve Jobs. Until Silicon Valley can generate the “I can’t wait to see this” excitement for a new film like Finding Nemo or Toy Story, Hollywood will keep its edge and a couple of engineers at Google will be the last of their worries.
Change is coming though. Digital distribution will give independent content creators more power not less. What the change will look like is anyone’s guess, but the casual gaming industry holds some clues. All casual gaming companies have to deal with the issues of customer acquisition and customer retention. Increasingly, they will look to the film industry on how to keep their franchise alive. This will create opportunities for forward thinking independent producers and casual gaming companies.
Cathal Gaffney, the CEO of Brown Bag Films, recently wrote:
“Content production businesses equally have to adapt to radical shifts in their business models ….. they now need to explore models where they are selling directly to the consumer. We have a lot to learn from the social gaming companies who make it very easy for their audiences to spend a euro on their site but possible to spend €100, and where only 10 per cent of the audience paying them is enough to make their site profitable.
And there is huge opportunity for synergies between producers of computer games and producers of film and TV content. Once upon a time web design companies and graphic design companies were totally different businesses until they merged. I see the same thing happening between content producers and computer game firms.“
This is the future. This is what tomorrow’s Walt Disney will look like.