What exactly is talent? We know Ireland’s got it, or at least it did until 2019, when Virgin Media cancelled the Irish version of Simon Cowell’'s internationally franchised show. But that’s only one, very specific definition.
For Virgin’s competitors over at RTÉ, talent has now become a dirty word. “Finally, can I say something about the use of the word ‘talent’?” RTÉ chairwoman Siún Ní Raghallaigh rhetorically asked the Oireachtas Public Accounts Committee recently. “Words matter and the term, as it is currently used, reinforces a ‘them and us’ culture in RTÉ. It implies some have greater worth than others. The first step in cultural change is to consign this term to the dustbin.”
It is understandable that Ní Raghallaigh should wish to douse the fires of anger and resentment among staff at the perceived betrayal of the payments controversy.
But having run two of the country’s big studios, she will surely be aware of the fact that the film and TV industries are generally not run along egalitarian lines. Just because everyone’s wearing Gore-Tex doesn’t mean there aren’t complex and immutable hierarchies of status and wealth embedded in the entire process. Some of that has to do with seniority and experience. But most is down to the simple reality that, with all due respect to skilled technicians and craftspeople, the success or failure of a project generally rests on the quality of the work of a small number of key creative people. In other words, the talent.
Paul Mescal on Saturday Night Live review: Gladiator II star skewers America’s bizarre views about Ireland
Joan Baez: Do I ever hear from Bob Dylan? ‘Not a word’
The 50 best films of 2024 – the top 10 movies of the year
Late Late Toy Show review: Patrick Kielty is fuelled by enough raw adrenaline to power Santa’s reindeer
Talent – a combination of aptitude, personal drive and professional experience – does exist. It has value. The question is: who gets to decide what that value is?
Most film production budgets recognise this in the concept of “above the line” costs, generally defined as “screenplay rights and salaries of top talent (actors, directors, producers and others involved in the high-level financial and creative direction of the film”. Unlike the rest of the budget, these costs can fluctuate significantly, based on negotiations over the perceived market value of the individuals involved.
A long-running TV chatshow may be a very different beast from a multi-million-euro movie, but the stakes are still high and it’s plain wrong to suggest, as some letter writers to this newspaper have done, that the country is full of people who could easily take on the job of presenting such a show for a modest fee. Something clearly went terribly askew with control over fees in Montrose over the past 30 years. But talent – a combination of aptitude, personal drive and professional experience – does exist. It has value. The question is: who gets to decide what that value is?
There is one example of a cultural industry where trade unions representing talent remain powerful, solidarity is still strong and greedy bosses might yet be brought to heel. The name of this social democratic nirvana is Hollywood (more of a concept than a geographical location these days). And the question at the heart of the current strikes in the American film and television industries is about how it values the creative talent of writers and actors, who have seen their incomes eroded by the shift to streaming services and feel threatened by the imminent arrival of artificial intelligence. The struggle for a better deal from the most powerful and lucrative entertainment industry in the world will have a knock-on effect wherever films and television programmes are made. And it’s all about valuing talent.
In Ireland, “talent” refers to a small coterie of radio and TV presenters working a narrow seam of current affairs and light entertainment
Meanwhile, back in Ireland, RTÉ would be well advised to look at its own unimpressive track record of talent development and to question its reliance on a handful of overfamiliar names and formats. Among the many rationales given for the necessity for a public service broadcaster, not enough attention has been paid to the role it could and should play in the broader cultural ecosystem. We don’t need to look far for examples. British theatre would be in a much worse place if it weren’t for the income actors get from TV drama. The vibrant Nordic film industry would not exist without support from the region’s broadcasters. A public service broadcaster could and should be a linchpin for the performing arts in the country it supposedly serves.
In Ireland, though, “talent” refers to a small coterie of radio and TV presenters working a narrow seam of current affairs and light entertainment. “Talent development” seems to be restricted to growing a new crop of these presenters in the shallow petri-dish of 2FM. Meanwhile, writers, actors, directors, podcasters and digital content creators of real promise are ignored. There’s nothing new about this, but the irony of Ní Raghallaigh’s statement is that what Ireland and RTÉ really need is more talent, not less.
