Mark Duplass Has a Plan to Save Television

It’s likely that many people recognize Mark Duplass primarily from his role on “The Morning Show” as Reese Witherspoon’s less glamorous producer, but film enthusiasts are familiar with him as a long-standing figure in independent cinema. Alongside his brother Jay, they made their mark with the low-budget road-trip drama “The Puffy Chair,” which was produced for just $15,000 in 2005 through Duplass Brothers Productions, the company they co-founded with Mel Eslyn. Through the years, from the indie film boom of the 2000s to the streaming era and today’s uncertain business climate, their resourceful attitude has persisted, leading to a diverse portfolio that encompasses Colin Trevorrow’s 2012 film “Safety Not Guaranteed” (a significant movie from its decade made on a shoestring budget), documentaries like “Wild Wild Country” with a Netflix feel, and critically acclaimed TV series such as HBO’s “Somebody Somewhere.

Recently, the team has been exploring a novel approach to television production, mimicking the style of independent filmmaking. Typically, TV creators present their show ideas to major studios who fund the project and own the finished product after taking on the financial risk. However, Duplass Brothers Productions acts as a self-sufficient studio by financing its series, keeping costs low, and maintaining control over how profits are generated. This can be achieved through licensing agreements or selling seasons directly to viewers. As Mark Duplass puts it, “We operate similarly to Warner Brothers TV. We handle everything and evaluate the worth of these deals to decide what’s best for us.

With this arrangement, they have the liberty to create intriguing television according to their preferences. The Duplass duo collaborated with Eslyn, using a chunk of their Morning Show earnings to script, direct, and produce Penelope, a thoughtful and largely silent YA series featuring Megan Stott as a young girl who chooses to leave society and explore the woods. They sold U.S. streaming rights to Netflix for a fixed fee and duration, while retaining ownership and international licensing rights. Penelope premiered in September, briefly reaching Netflix’s Top Ten list, and later receiving two Gotham Awards nominations. In November, another independent TV project by the Duplass team, The Creep Tapes, which is based on their popular Creep films, was released on horror streaming service Shudder through a different licensing agreement.

Penelope and The Creep Tapes weren’t the Duplass brothers’ initial ventures into independent television, but they emerged during a turbulent period in Hollywood. Streaming platforms were under financial strain, leading to a promising scenario: cost-effective content for streamers, creative autonomy for producers, and engaging shows for audiences. It appeared as if this model was gaining traction. However, the momentum has slowed down after six months. The most apparent indication is that Duplass Brothers Productions encountered difficulties in securing a viable agreement for their latest production, The Long Long Night. This six-episode dark comedy revolves around two good-intentioned middle-aged men, portrayed by Duplass and Barret O’Brien, who believe the best action they can take to help the world is ending their lives. The narrative unfolds nonlinearly and incorporates Zoom calls and phone video recordings, showcasing a stylistically experimental approach. Despite receiving positive feedback from distributors, Duplass was dissatisfied with the proposed deals. As a result, they’ve opted for self-distribution, releasing it through Kinema, a platform where viewers can rent to watch directly, and Seed&Spark, a crowdfunding service intended to foster a community around the project.

Duplass acknowledges that not many people are familiar with Kinema, but he points out that producing the show was cost-effective for them. If their goal is merely to introduce a novel distribution method and potentially recoup their costs, they can continue to work.

Back in the day as an independent filmmaker, the wager was clear: if we could maintain costs at a minimum, the potential rewards were astronomical due to the high prices distributors paid for rights. Now, let’s ponder over this intriguing dilemma – how does this bet translate in today’s streaming television era?

Well, I must confess that I can’t provide an unequivocal answer just yet. It feels like I’m treading water right smack in the middle of a vast ocean. One moment the currents seem to be flowing favorably, and I get swept up by optimism; the next, I find myself submerged, questioning the flow of things.

It’s an exciting time, no doubt, but also one filled with uncertainty. Only time will tell how this bet unfolds in the ever-evolving landscape of streaming television.

As I ventured into autonomous television production, it became crystal clear that the landscape had dramatically shifted. The financial benefits and types of projects previously popular in independent film were no longer the norm. Streaming services flooded the market with content, which devalued such productions, leading them to play it safer with their investments. They’re less likely to spend millions on a project like The Overnight, a film I produced for a modest budget and that offered a unique blend of business and artistic autonomy. This change left me feeling the pressure.

I decided to venture into television because I sensed an opportunity there. The industry was eager for fresh talent, and I saw it as a chance to strike a balance between maximizing profits and preserving creative freedom – something that independent film executives often struggle with due to their knowledge of cost-cutting measures. This approach proved successful in shows like “Animals,” “Room 104,” “The Creep Tapes,” and “Penelope.” Unfortunately, I entered the TV scene just as it started experiencing similar challenges to what the film industry was facing at the time.

What should we move forward with next? I propose we consider investing in these small, lottery-like television shows. I strongly believe that predicting what will resonate culturally is a challenge for everyone, which means there’s just as much potential for success with us as there has been with unexpected hits like Squid Game or Baby Reindeer. You might recall that Penelope was recently nominated for two TV Gotham Awards, making it one of the few Netflix shows to receive recognition. Interestingly, we weren’t even an original Netflix production, and they didn’t spend any money promoting our show. Yet, it still managed to gain traction. Another example is The Creep Tapes, which is currently the No. 1 show on Shudder, despite being relatively inexpensive for them to produce.

It’s my aspiration that we can establish a genuine community of independent television, similar to the indie-film ecosystem that flourished from the late ’90s until now, though it may not be as robust anymore. Festivals like SeriesFest in Denver and ATX Fest in Austin could serve as platforms where executives are compelled to attend because if they fail to discover and acquire shows there, they risk missing out. I firmly believe that by recreating the elements that made the ’90s successful for us, we can find a common ground among all parties involved. Streamers require accolades and wish to reduce production costs. My business strategy is built on the principle that companies typically pay X for products, but are delighted when the Duplass Brothers deliver it to them at half the cost (0.5x). I can produce it at a quarter of the cost (0.25x), and everyone benefits as a result.

Streaming’s financial aspects certainly add an element of complexity when trying to evaluate success, don’t they? Unlike movie-ticket sales, which were straightforward measurements, studios would quickly know if they quadrupled their investment with streaming, but the process is more convoluted.

Absolutely, and without having the specific data, it’s challenging to determine whether Penelope brought in new viewers or not. Netflix certainly knows, but we don’t. About six years ago, “Room 104” was a significant success for HBO because they paid less for it compared to their usual half-hour shows. It was associated with the Duplass Brothers and was relatively cheap to produce. They could air it during non-premium hours on Friday nights. Despite not being in a prime-time slot, it received great reviews and solid viewership numbers. Since it had elements of various genres, it also had international appeal. Essentially, a low-cost show generating decent income, a small fraction of total viewers, and prestige — that was an attractive proposition. If I were to pitch “Room 104” today, many might decline, with the main concern being whether it would significantly retain subscribers or not.

In response to your query, I’d say that my stance on this matter is comparable to considering a program such as “Adolescence.” Initially, one might dismiss it, assuming it wouldn’t meet viewer expectations. However, unpredictability is a part of the entertainment industry, and we can never truly know what will resonate with audiences.

Streamers, generally, seek large, definitive hits, which makes them less inclined to experiment with shows like “The Long Long Night.” If they do decide to take a chance, it’s often a minimal investment, one that may not hold significant value for me anymore. I don’t intend to oversimplify, but in essence, streamers are looking for big wins, which can make them hesitant to explore the unknown.

Initially, our plan was to create a film titled The Long Long Night. However, as we were developing the story, we found ourselves drawn to these characters and their experiences. We felt there was more to explore beyond the night they attempted suicide, but we also didn’t want an extended two-and-a-half-hour movie. It seemed excessive for the story’s depth. Instead, it struck us as comically episodic, which is why we ultimately chose to adapt it into six separate episodes.

Following the addition of new sequences and its transformation into a series, we presented it at the Tribeca Film Festival in 2023, where it received fantastic feedback. Recognizing the importance of making a strong statement for independent television, I decided to first introduce something that would resonate strongly with the culture. At this point, I hadn’t yet attempted to sell “The Long Long Night.” Instead, we premiered it to positive reviews, and then I switched gears, showcasing “Penelope” at Sundance and securing a deal with Netflix. Excited about our progress, I then introduced “The Creep Tapes,” and we successfully sold it to Shudder.

This is captivating. This is excellent. We admire indie TV. Yes, we want to back it.” But there was also a recurring note: “Here’s a small investment.

It seems that not all the streamer’s offers could actually cover their expenses.

Was the cost of producing The Long Long Night more than what you spent on Puffy Chair, but less than the budget for Safety Not Guaranteed, which was $750,000? That sounds about right.

In simpler terms, producing an episode of television typically costs between half a million dollars and $6 million depending on factors like cast size and salaries. I’m funding everything myself, which is similar to the Cassavetes model – I earn money from shows like The Morning Show and Good American Family, then reinvest it in our own projects. This has worked well for us so far, but we’re currently struggling financially as we try to recoup our investments.

We’re at a crossroads right now. On one hand, it would be tempting to accept a large sum of money from a company if they offered us permanent worldwide rights for our show. But on the other hand, I need to think about the future. Streaming companies are buying fewer shows and integrating vertically, which means there will be less competition. This might not provide enough profit for everyone involved in independent storytelling.

I’m considering alternative ways to distribute our content, like going behind paywalls or using platforms like Patreon. Perhaps there’s a model that allows me to self-distribute and get a better deal than from the streamers.

Although I might be able to recoup my investment by selling it to a distributor who’ll merely upload it on their platform without any promotion, that doesn’t contribute to building anything. Therefore, why not consider a self-distribution approach, even if it involves some financial risk?

To clarify, we’re in a transitional stage with Kinema and Seed&Spark. It’s neither uploading it to YouTube nor selling rights to a streamer entirely. In essence, this model could be referred to as a “hybrid approach,” as I retain full ownership of the project for potential future benefits within Duplass Brothers Productions. By accumulating titles, we aim to create a library that is worth more than just the individual parts in the long run. Although independent creativity is challenging at present, I encourage producing content consistently, with the hope that by maintaining financial stability and building a collection of works, we can license them out during retirement years.

In September, when you had a conversation with Matt Belloni on The Town, you suggested that streamers would understand the value of the independent TV model you’re proposing within a year. We are now halfway through that period. How is your prediction holding up?

Well, I believe we might need a bit more time to see significant changes. [Laughs.] As things can change rapidly in this field, it’s hard to predict the exact timeline. However, if content creators such as the Duplass Brothers start distributing their content on platforms like YouTube, Tubi, Kinema, or directly to Video-On-Demand services and take that content away from streaming platforms…

It doesn’t have to be an either/or situation. I can tell them, “If you can’t afford the large fee, that’s fine. We can still collaborate. Try a short licensing agreement or go for a nonexclusive deal, and we’ll continue to work together and strive for success.” I don’t aim to drain anyone’s finances. Instead, I want all parties involved to thrive. Let’s explore the waters together and see how it unfolds.

Recently, YouTube seems to be aiming for a role as the upcoming TV platform, all while Netflix starts obtaining content from YouTube. Isn’t that mind-blowing?

At what point does YouTube become an appealing platform for creating and sharing work? Well, it’s starting to look that way. There are potential sponsors who have expressed interest in our content, which is promising. However, the regularity and volume of content required to maintain a successful YouTube channel seem at odds with my preference for a balanced lifestyle. It’s not that I’m ruling it out entirely, but as of now, I’m unsure if I’m ready to commit to the demands it entails. Time will tell if we can find a suitable approach to YouTube production that aligns with our goals and values.

Reflecting on the past five years, I’d say my optimism has grown significantly. Back then, I was deeply entrenched in a system that worked for me, but it wasn’t until I encountered challenges and had to pave a new path that my enthusiasm truly blossomed. This uncharted road could be our golden ticket if we navigate it skillfully. If I can invest a dollar in creating independent TV without creative restrictions and receive $1.25 back regardless of the outcome through emerging distribution methods, I consider that a far better scenario than anything I’ve encountered in this industry so far.

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2025-06-10 15:55