The Way I See It: Jani Guest

Jani Guest is co-founder of Independent Films in London, which represents a string of well-known directors and until 2009 was in a cross-representation deal with LA’s Biscuit Filmworks. Previously she has worked for Propaganda and Satellite Films. Guest sat down with Diana Goodman to talk about being a divorced, Korean-American, Hindu working mum in London who’s never seen The Mighty Boosh

I am 40, divorced, with six-year-old twin girls and a small home in a North West London ghetto.

I would describe myself as a hybrid. I’m a Korean-American, was raised a Hindu, run a company and am a single parent. Which basically means that I’m a workaholic, aim to please, prone to guilt and spoiling my kids, and have a strong belief in karma.

When I look in the mirror I see the wrinkles that are a result of all the above.

My father had a keen interest in eastern religions. So when I was three, my parents moved into an ashram – one that was very strict and run according to ancient Hindu traditions of ashram life. I spent quite a lot of time in India as a child, which I loved and have fond memories of.

I think that often the perception is that ashrams are for hippies or people who are airy-fairy or lack focus in life. I can only speak for the ashram I was involved with, but the people there were incredibly disciplined and focused, and there were a lot of very successful professionals who visited it.

Every day until my parents moved out of the ashram, I woke at 5.30am for morning prayers. My days were scheduled in one-hour increments until bedtime.

My first memory is of being dragged up the stairs of my guru’s house when I was little. The stairs seemed so steep and he was moving at an incredibly fast pace.

When I was 13, my parents wanted a change and bought a house in Orinda, an upper-middle-class, very suburban town in California. So I had three high school years of normal schooling.

For two people who couldn’t be more different, my parents get along exceedingly well. My father has accepted that his duties are to do whatever my mom tells him. In exchange, she feeds him well and lets him go surfing.

My father is a dentist and my mother runs his practice. They are now very involved with India’s hugging saint [Mata Amritanandamayi, a healer who hugs people to health]. She has hugged more than 30 million people and has done as much charitable work as Mother Teresa.

My father is a saint. Years of meditation and gentle living have made him the calmest man and a true joy to be with. He has an insight and wisdom about life that is refreshing and keeps me sane.

My mother is a very strict Korean woman. She has firm beliefs about what is right and what is wrong, and has worked incredibly hard for her family her entire life. Whatever moral compass I have, is a result of all that she instilled in me as I was growing up.

I attended the University of California, San Diego and majored in anthropology and minored in religion. I had no idea what I wanted to do when I graduated. I thought of being a journalist but I don’t write well enough and I like pictures. Through my ex-husband, I got a job at a photo agency working with Herb Ritts, managing the syndication of his images across the UK/Europe, and so began my career path.

I made what some would say was a brave – and others might say was an idiotic – decision to move to the UK, because I was offered a job to represent the Satellite Films directors in the UK (an off-shoot of Propaganda Films), which included, among others, Spike Jonze and Mark Romanek.

It was incredibly difficult to adjust. In 1995, the food was rather appalling and in terms of the business, trying to get agencies to embrace the idea of working with foreign-based directors was a true challenge.

I suppose the first film that ever really resonated with me was Guinness Surfer by Jonathan Glazer. Up to that point, I had seen many brilliantly executed commercials, but Glazer’s spot made a more lasting impression. It felt like cinema, not an ad.

In 2001, Propaganda Films did a deal with BRW Films in Italy, who funded the expansion of the Propaganda brand across UK/Europe. A month after we opened the UK office, Propaganda closed and myself and my partner at the time, Richard Packer, were left with a massive office space and no directors. Independent was born from the ashes of Propaganda’s collapse. 

Propaganda was a massive brand with an equally massive ego. Despite the brilliance of its directors, I think it was that ego that prevented the company really reaching its potential.

Failure is never an option for me. I don’t like giving up and I always feel that there is something that can be achieved. So with a knock-back, I feel the sadness and pain for a very short time and then just get on with it.

The split with Biscuit was a natural transition for both companies. Noam [Murro] had achieved huge success in the London market. He had ambitions to have his own office in the UK and despite several conversations about how Independent could facilitate that, we always ended up in the same place: that we couldn’t build someone else’s business when there was so much work to be done on our own.

It was an amicable split. I am still very friendly and incredibly fond of both Noam [director] and Shawn [Lacy, managing director].I’d like to think I had a wonderfully scientific approach to signing talent. But it is purely based on instinct. There is a certain kind of work that I naturally gravitate towards and I am always looking for directors to show me more of that. Sadly, I do turn many down. I always feel bad about that.

There are few blows worse than losing a director. My heart has actually ached.

In my family, there certainly is a stigma attached to working in advertising. I didn’t become a doctor or a lawyer. Worse, though, I didn’t marry one.

The one thing I really enjoy about this business is that you learn something every day; the sands are shifting constantly and that’s exciting.

I get loads of flak about being an American in London and rightfully so. I’ve lived in a bubble of work and close friends and have not immersed myself in British heritage or culture. Everyone I know has a right to take the piss out of me. I still haven’t watched The Mighty Boosh.

If I’ve ever sensed any prejudice against me in terms of being a woman, I’ve ignored it. If you empower someone else to make you feel vulnerable then they will.

I think women have a great deal to offer in terms of understanding the nuances of advertising. Good work is all about grabbing an audience’s attention, about capturing them on an emotional level. Women know how to empathise incredibly well.

Why are there so few women in the industry? Because they have discovered that there are far better things to do with their time than be in the ad business.

I am incredibly proud to have been involved in the Nike shoot with Alejandro González Iñárritu [Write the Future]. As you know, it was a production of epic proportions, all of which is evident in the final piece. What was originally scheduled and bid to be a 10-day shoot over a two-week period, grew to a 23-day shoot over a seven-week period.

Our days were so long and there was so much happening at any given moment that I lost track of my time on the road. I missed my girls desperately. Apart from that, it was a marathon of survival.

I never questioned whether or not it was worth it; I questioned whether we would make it. But I could see in the material being produced that it was an amazing film – the best I’ve ever seen.

I am embarrassed to say that as a consumer I am quite influenced by advertising. And I am conscious that I do have a tendency to purchase products [advertised] by films that I like.

I’ve never taken drugs. I do enjoy a glass or two of wine. By Californian standards that would make me an alcoholic. By British standards, that would make me average.

I most use the internet for trying to look up activities for my kids. I’m always trying to find things for them to do.

I’ve always had a very strong sense of right and wrong, and what is appropriate and inappropriate in terms of transparency and honesty with people. There are certain tactics that people in business sometimes employ that I couldn’t personally do.

I don’t know why our business has given latitude for grace and compassion to be ignored, but it has. I get fed up with anyone behaving like a prima donna. It’s not necessary and it doesn’t breed a positive atmosphere.

I’d like to think I’m good at letting someone go, but the truth is I’m terrible at it. Note to self: get better at letting directors go.

Thankfully, I have never been fired myself.

Money has never been important to me. I’ve never worked for money and I know for a fact that I earn far less than many others in this business. I’ve always thought that if my heart was in the right place, then the rest would be provided for.

 Of course, there have been moments when hearing a director or producer complain [about money] I would think to myself, there are children starving in the world. Shame on you. But the truth is that excess is diminishing. In these difficult times, many of us are looking back and saying to ourselves, “God, we had it good. We had no idea how lucky we were.”

When I initially came here in 1995, the quality of the creative work being generated was exceptionally strong. It was the market that every director wanted to work in. Agencies defended their ideas to clients and, equally, seemed to support directors in the process of making the film.

Post-recession, it seems that an economically challenged climate has set fear among both agencies and clients. As a result, the ‘strong idea’ has faded, and the budgets are forever shrinking. It is becoming increasingly difficult to produce good-quality creative work with a high level of production to match.

My advice to young people entering the industry today is: Listen to your parents. Go to medical school. Or get a law degree.

Have I ever had therapy? Good God yes.

I’ve never had a great disappointment, I really haven’t. I’ve had a very fortunate life. To me, a great disappointment is something that people can’t shed emotionally and I haven’t had that.

I take criticism terribly. I try to think I’m quite good at it, but I work hard, so when that work isn’t recognised or appreciated I can feel wounded.

My greatest weakness is being too compassionate.

What makes me really angry is dishonesty.

One of my mantras is, “What you think of me is none of my business.” And it’s one of my mantras because, of course, I care what others think of me.

I judge a person on how pure their heart is.

Outside of work, I’m fascinated with all things spiritual, but I realise that might give the impression of me as being rather hippy, which I am not. The truth is I have very little time to pursue other interests.

I’ve had such a mixed upbringing that I don’t think of myself as being American. But I suppose it means that I can comment on the mess the country is in, with some sense of natural-born ownership.

I voted for Obama, like most Californians. I don’t regret the vote, but I think it’s a shame that the country’s in such a state. The failing economy is the greatest disappointment, but it’s hard to know where Obama’s failings have begun and Bush’s ended. He’s had to do such a clean-up act.

Having been married once and now divorced, I’m impartial towards marriage. I am interested in partnership, in the fullest sense of the word. Ring or no ring – that doesn’t change the level of commitment for me.

Becoming a mother is the most enriching experience in life.

What children need most is their mother and love.

Do I believe in God? Absolutely.

I have no fear of dying. I believe in reincarnation, so death is just a passage to another life. I’d like to be cremated and my ashes spread over the Ganga River.

If I could change the world, I would. Full stop.

If I could relive my life, I wouldn’t change a thing.

What gives me real pleasure is waking up in the arms of the man I love and seeing my little girls’ faces. And also, I’m afraid to admit, confirming a job.

In the end, what really matters is love. Pure and simple.