When Everyone’s a Producer, No One’s in Charge.

There was a time when making an independent film was about finding someone to say yes. You needed a buyer, a financier, maybe a distributor willing to take a chance. The roles were clear. The path, while difficult, made sense. You built your deck, attached talent, lined up a plan, and you brought it into the room. If the idea was strong and the team credible, someone bit. There was a structure, even if it was scrappy.

That version of independent filmmaking is barely recognizable now. The market has shifted in every direction. Streamers have pulled back. Distributors are cautious. Capital is more selective than ever. But even beyond the external pressure, something more dangerous has happened within the projects themselves. The collapse is not just coming from the outside. It is happening from within.

I get sent projects constantly. Some of them have real promise. There is talent attached, a solid creative premise, even partial financing in motion. But I only need to ask one question to know whether the project has a chance or not. 

Who is leading this film?

What I get back is rarely a straight answer. Sometimes 3 or 4 people all claim to be leading. Other times, no one actually knows. Everyone has a producer credit. Everyone is copied on the emails. But no one can tell me who is handling the creative. No one can tell me who is structuring the deal. No one can tell me who is facing investors, answering questions, and protecting the capital. It is a team without a head, and it is shockingly common.

Somewhere along the way, we decided that collaboration meant crowding. Films now come with 10 producers, 5 advisory titles, 3 managers, and not a single person with authority. Everyone wants inclusion. No one wants accountability. When you ask a hard question, it gets passed around. When an investor wants clarity, the email thread gets longer. What used to be a focused leadership structure is now a shared drive of vague ambition and shared credit.

That is the environment where bad actors step in. Because when no one is truly in charge, anyone can pretend they are. And this is where the modern day film broker makes their move.

I am not talking about licensed brokers like you find in real estate, private equity, or M&A. In every other industry, brokers operate within clear legal parameters. They are licensed, regulated, responsible for the transaction, and compensated for delivering results. They carry liability. They work transparently. There is oversight. In film, that structure does not exist. And the people calling themselves brokers are not professionals. They are opportunists. All it takes is access to a PDF and a handful of contacts, and someone can claim they are shopping a project. Most of the time, they have no agreement with the producers. No paperwork. No authority. But they float the materials anyway. They forward decks to funds they do not understand, misrepresent their role, and insert themselves into negotiations that they were never a part of. They show up claiming to be part of a team they have never met.

This is not brokering. It is sabotage.

And the people who let it happen are not the brokers themselves. It is the creators. The filmmakers. The producers who allowed too many voices into the room without defining who was responsible for what. It is the projects that were never locked down, never papered properly, never built with real hierarchy. The broker steps in only after the project becomes an open door. The irony is, even the best projects are not immune. 

I have watched films with major names attached and real money in play get derailed because someone who had no stake in the deal began pitching it around town. By the time the actual team finds out, the damage is already done. Investors are confused. Sales agents have heard conflicting stories. The credibility is gone. No one knows who to believe. The project stalls out and nobody takes the fall because everyone was just trying to help.

Let’s be honest: Too many independent films right now are structured like group chats. Everyone wants to be involved, but no one wants to take the lead. And when the consequences hit, they hit hard. Because this is not a creative game anymore. This is capital. This is risk. This is business. It does not matter how passionate your project is if the structure is sloppy. It does not matter how good your deck looks if 5 different people are pitching it. And it does not matter how talented your team is if no one knows who actually runs the show.

That is why investors walk. Because they are not going to invest in a conversation. They are going to invest in leadership.

It does not take a giant infrastructure to fix this. You do not need a studio model. You do not need corporate rigidity. You need someone leading creative. You need someone leading finance. And if neither of those people can manage the structure, you need someone in place who can bridge the gap. Someone who understands how to align both sides of the deal, manage investor expectations, and keep the team honest. That is what the right consultant does. Not as a producer. Not as a credit-seeker. As someone who protects structure, so the filmmaker can keep building without falling into chaos. Most projects do not need another partner. They need someone doing the hard work of holding it together behind the scenes, without making a mess or demanding a seat at the head of the table.

And yet that role is usually left empty.

Instead, we keep letting these projects balloon into unmanageable webs of vague responsibilities. We are still treating filmmaking like it is a passion experiment when the financial stakes are higher than ever. People think that because it is indie, the rules are flexible. That is exactly why nothing moves. That is why investors pull out. That is why strong projects die quietly before they ever get to camera.

We are in a new reality now. The streaming boom is over. The money is not moving the same way. The people funding films today are disciplined, focused, and cautious. They are not here for confusion. They are not going to chase answers down a chain of credits. They are going to move forward when they see clear ownership of process, clean documentation, and someone who can speak to all sides of the deal with authority.

So I will ask the question again: Who is leading this film? If you cannot answer it clearly, you are not ready for capital. You are not ready for partners. And you are not making a film. You are circling the idea of one.

Structure is not the enemy of creativity. It is the only reason creativity gets funded. Until we start treating these projects like actual businesses, the same cycle will repeat. Chaos invites the worst people. Confusion destroys credibility. And the absence of leadership will always be the fastest way to kill momentum.

The projects that will make it through this next era will not be the ones with the best concept. They will be the ones that are disciplined enough to protect the structure from day one. That means real leadership. That means fewer producers. That means defining the chain of command early, locking the materials, and holding your project like it is a real business. Because that is what it is. Or at least, what it has to be if you want to see it go beyond a deck.

If no one is leading, you are already losing.

And if a stranger with no agreement can show up and pretend they speak for your film, then you were never in control to begin with. No more excuses. Not in this market. Not in this economy. Not if you actually want to get something made.

Who is leading this film?

If you do not know, the answer is no one. And that is exactly why it is not going anywhere.

This is who shows up when no one’s in charge. He doesn’t make the film, he sells the illusion of one.