“Mad Men” was set in 1960s New York, but it was mostly filmed at a studio just west of downtown Los Angeles. Sienna DeGovia was one of hundreds of people who worked on the show. Someone needed to re-create the food of that era, like savory Jell-Os and the carrots cut into one-inch cubes that used to be served on airplanes, and that’s what she does — she’s a food stylist. She started as an assistant 25 years ago and after learning the craft, became a lead stylist.

Los Angeles is full of weird jobs like that — or at least it used to be. But content production peaked in 2022, and the world’s entertainment capital has since been battered by a global contraction.

“The beginning of 2024, everything fell off a cliff,” DeGovia says. “I called all my old mentors and begged to be taken on as an assistant. I never had to do that in 20 years.”

The lack of work in Hollywood has renewed age-old calls for government intervention. Her father, Jack DeGovia, was a production designer who worked on “Die Hard” and “Speed.” In response to a downturn in 1999, he organized the Film and Television Action Committee, which took aim at “runaway production,” particularly the then-new phenomenon of shooting American films in Canada because it was cheaper.

“They were taking the bread out of our mouths and attacking our families,” says DeGovia, now 84. “They were making believe they were America. They’re not; they’re Canada. We were willing to play hardball with these guys.”

DeGovia led rallies in L.A. and Sacramento, where crews chanted “Film American!” and demanded a state tax incentive to match Canadian subsidies. That effort fizzled out. But a generation later, California has a production tax credit and is poised to double it in response to foreign incentives.

“We have to be more competitive,” Gov. Gavin Newsom said on May 14, noting that the business is on “life support.”

That may not be enough. Doubling the program should generate 4,000 to 5,000 jobs, according to state estimates. But in the past two years, California has lost 40,000 production jobs, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

“Trying to be competitive, or close to competitive, is going to require not only a state effort but some sort of federal incentive,” says film producer Chris Bender, noting that at least 70 countries have a national subsidy. Jon Voight, a “special ambassador” appointed by President Trump, has pitched a national incentive as part of a plan to save Hollywood.

The industry has been dreaming about that idea for generations. Ronald Reagan backed a federal tax break to counter runaway production when he was governor of California in 1970. Twenty years before that, as president of the Screen Actors Guild, he lobbied President Truman on the issue.

“Runaway production is not new,” says Russell Hollander, national executive director of the Directors Guild of America. “What is different now is that we are experiencing a tremendous global contraction in film and television production.”

According to DGA data, every major production center — California, New York, Georgia, Canada and London — has seen a downturn in the past couple years. But it’s been more severe in the U.S. than overseas.

“Under these circumstances, every job that leaves the United States to chase foreign tax incentives takes on added significance,” Hollander says. “Recapturing that work has to become an even more important priority.”

In Canada, production subsidies are a matter of cultural sovereignty. Without them, Canadian movie theaters and TV screens would be overwhelmed by American content.

“We want to see ourselves reflected on our airwaves, as does every other country,” says Norm Bolen, former president of the Canadian Media Producers Association. Bolen is skeptical that the U.S. needs a federal subsidy. “From a Canadian perspective, that’s absurd,” he says. “Hollywood dominates everywhere. What’s the deficiency that needs to be addressed?”

He also disputes the idea that Canada offering subsidies to international producers caused a loss of U.S. jobs. “They weren’t really taking jobs away from Americans,” he says. “They were providing financial resources that allowed these productions to be made. They wouldn’t have been made at all.”

In 1986, Stephen J. Cannell was producing an L.A.-based action show for NBC called “Stingray.” Facing declining network fees, he hit on the idea of saving money by filming in Canada.

“We didn’t have much choice,” says Michael Dubelko, who was president of Cannell’s company. “We were a small company. We did it for survival.”

The company ended up in Vancouver, which had almost no production industry at the time. Cannell turned a former distillery into a TV factory, churning out “21 Jump Street,” “Wiseguy,” “The Commish” and other shows.

“We didn’t know what we were doing when we started,” Dubelko says. “It was crazy.”

In his view, filming on location in Los Angeles had simply become too expensive. Homeowners would demand $5,000 or $10,000 to rent their house for a day. Once the crew got there, a neighbor would fire up the lawnmower and demand to be paid to turn it off.

“We go to Vancouver, and they’d say, ‘Come on in and shoot for free,’” he recalls. “We weren’t being ripped off all the time.”

And with a favorable exchange rate, Dubelko estimates they saved at least $100,000 an episode — or more than $2 million a season. Of course, leaving L.A. behind created some backlash. “We took heat for it,” he says.

But soon, others followed.

The British Columbia film industry now employs thousands of people. Dubelko remembers being in Vancouver with Cannell a few years before he died. “We were going down the street, and people were stopping us, saying, ‘Oh my God, we’re in the business because of you,’” Dubelko says. “It was not one or two. Maybe 20 people came up to us and told us how grateful they were to him. He was really the one that pushed all this stuff. He was really a visionary.”

Lately, though, Vancouver has been hit hard by the contraction. According to the local crew union, only 25% of its members are working.

“We have been dead,” says Tonya Hartz, who has worked as a location scout in Vancouver for 28 years. “Production levels have been incredibly slow in 2025.”

Hartz knows people who have lost houses and are struggling to afford groceries.

Trump’s threat to impose a 100% tariff on foreign-made films, coming on top of blanket tariffs on Canadian goods and threats of annexation, has added to the strain.

“You can imagine the panic that rippled through our membership,” says Crystal Braunwarth, business representative of IATSE Local 891 in Vancouver, who fielded at least 50 calls after Trump’s threat.

While a movie tariff would probably be unworkable, some worry that U.S. producers may nevertheless shy away from filming abroad, exacerbating the downturn.

“This is a global industry,” says Spencer Chandra Herbert, B.C.’s minister of tourism, arts, culture and sport. “Trying to shut the door on it being a global industry misunderstands how the industry works.”

Canadian-based Gary Lam, an editor whose credits include “District 9” and “Terminator: Dark Fate,” says it’s not a zero-sum situation. “If it’s slow in Hollywood, it’s slow here,” he says. “We want Hollywood to be busy. When they get so busy they have trouble finding crew, that’s when we tend to get the call.”

Several in the Vancouver industry agree that the business moves in cycles, and they expect the slow period will not last forever. Lam says it’s also up to local governments to do what they can to help. “I do think that tax breaks and government support are the way to go,” he says.

So does the B.C. government, which recently increased its production incentive. “We’ve made this a priority,” Chandra Herbert says. “We’re responding to the same thing everyone else is. The major studios have reduced how much they’re spending. It’s been very hard on our workers.”

Dubelko isn’t convinced that a U.S. incentive is a great idea. When he was making TV, there were about 50 shows on the air. They would get Nielsen reports, and they all fit on one page. Now there are 500. “All this production that currently exists couldn’t have been done in one city or one state,” he says. “The business became very mobile in the mid-’80s. It was a very natural evolution that it would start being done outside Los Angeles.”

“How do you get that business back?” he says. “I don’t know. I don’t see how that happens.”