A movie industry publicist plays a few roles. It is her (and these people are often shes) job to coordinate those obnoxious three-minute celebrity interviews that even blogs can partake in; there, it's her duty to make sure things like this don't happen.

It's also her job to coordinate step-and-repeats and the usual red carpet drama at movie premieres, selecting which media outlets get how much time with her client; inevitably, tabloid TV shows and anybody else with a video camera get the most time, while reporters with a handheld tape recorder will be lucky to stand next to somebody who gets to ask questions.

But the biggest part of a publicist's job? Making sure her asshole entitled client has bottle service reservations at a handful of clubs (because his tastes can change on whim) for the movie premiere's after-after party, and that the right food from a restaurant that hasn't opened yet, and doesn't offer take out, is served hot on her client's private plane.

From the category of books we call "Industry Tell-Alls That We Love" comes Mark Borkowski's The Fame Formula, which chronicles some of Hollywood's most ridiculous publicity tasks. And Borkowski might have some first-hand knowledge in this field, given that he was responsible for handling Michael-Frickin'-Jackson at one point. If there needs to be a definition of high maintenance clients, Jacko is it.

So what insider info does Borkowski have to share? Namely, that the Hollywood publicity industry is the shadowy machine that makes everything work just right without ever being noticed.

Even today, Borkowski, whose clients have included Michael Jackson, claims that movie publicists are part of a powerful cabal who mostly go unnoticed, who ruthlessly hold the media in their grasp and who “truly understand the dark Conradian soul of man” (ie, our baser instincts). Some of the studio publicists I approached refused to speak about their craft, while others agreed to discuss it only anonymously.

The job is simply about being prepared, and being prepared to improvise, says Charlotte Tudor, the vice-president of publicity at Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures UK and a veteran of the publicity business. “When talent arrive in the UK for a press tour, they'll have an entourage with them of anything from one to six people,” she says. “Our first job is to ensure a smooth transition from plane to car to the hotel - where we've already got the requisite blenders, running machines, masseurs and Kabbalah water in place for their arrival.”

Over 24 frenetic hours, during which the “talent” will be interviewed, attend a premiere and an after-premiere party, the publicist's resourcefulness will be tested. “We book them dinners and shopping trips, we imagine what they might want to see at the theatre and we book them tickets,” says Tudor. “We organise dress alterations, sightseeing tours, and if they've got kids with them we organise kids' activities. We've even been asked, at the last minute, to find hair extensions for a big-name star who refused to leave her hotel room to come down to the premiere until we got them - we went all around London, through every hairdresser, until we found the right colour. Those kind of requests stretch you.” Even after the after-premiere party, she says, stars will announce that they want an after-after-party. “They say they want to go to a club, and you've had to make sure you've made reservations in three clubs in case they want to go to one of them.”

Until the very last minute of the tour, Tudor explains, the publicist is on duty. “On one occasion a particular group refused, in the middle of the day, to take off on their private plane until they had takeaway food from a very expensive Chinese restaurant on board, even though the restaurant didn't open till 7pm that night.”

In the midst of all this egocentric whimsy there is media exposure to be accumulated. Tudor says that an internal study at Disney found that “the estimated value of the Pirates of the Caribbean premiere, in print coverage alone, was £1.4 million - ie, if you bought the equivalent space in pure advertising it would cost that much money”.

Elsewhere, the coverage has to be gleaned the old-fashioned way - by sitting down journalists in front of stars. Here, increasingly, the job of the publicist is to tread the fine line between matching a “suitable” journalist with the talent and choosing a craven sycophantic hack

who will play the promotional game. Borkowski certainly thinks that the latter tendency dominates today. “Journalists have become an extension of the industry,” he laments, “rather than a necessary foil.”

The bottom line is that you don't want a difficult interview, says another publicist. “When journalists come in and ask dumb questions I'm very quickly aware of it,” she says. “The talent will tell me immediately. And, of course, I don't want regimented film coverage, but if somebody f***s me over, then their publication is not going to get anything from us the next time.”It's nothing personal. It's just a matter of getting the right exposure and satisfying the PR's studio paymasters.

[London Times]