Like 92 percent of all other Americans, the holidays never fail to inject in me a kind of vague, amorphous dread. Unlike 92 percent of all Americans, however, my uneasiness is not a byproduct of hating my family or rampant alcoholism. Rather, my anxiety results from anticipating a conversation that invariably occurs whenever I congregate with eight or more members of my extended family.
The circumstances surrounding this conversation usually go something like this: I will be sitting at a dinner table with a bunch of people I call family, which is really just a fancy word for people who have your nose and probably wouldn't hate you if you were indicted for mail fraud. While everyone else at the table plays the old Gustini holiday favorite "Guess Who Died," I imagine what my life would be like if I were a cowboy, or possibly some sort of shepherd. Sooner or later, a fresh, slurred voice will lure me out of my dreamlike stupor. This voice will belong to some enterprising member of my family who is eager to give me his or her opinions about movies or the entertainment industry.
This is the conversation I would like to avoid at all costs, because in all likelihood, the context of his or her comment is something along the lines of, "If you're so smart, why are movies today so terrible?" As the only person at the table who is paid a nominal salary to write about the entertainment industry, it is my duty to try and address this query for everyone at the table.
As somebody who considers himself a populist, the natural reaction would be to explain why the Hollywood system is not hopelessly broken, and why the year 2006 has had better movies than 1939, 1974 and 1994 combined. But I don't really believe this. I think we are in a moderately dark age for movies, although not for the usual reasons offered up dopey sociologists, senior editors at Entertainment Weekly, or my inebriated relatives. It has nothing to do with Jerry Bruckheimer, dumb comedies, slasher movies, or escalating budgets — the real reasons are far more insidious. In order to help those of you who might find yourselves engaged in a similar debate about the problems facing Hollywood, I have endeavored to put together a few talking points about the four things that are really killing Hollywood.
Adam Smith: economic Antichrist
Along with being one of the funniest writers alive, New Yorker film critic Anthony Lane understands the idea of populist moviemaking like no other film critic. It is Lane's contention that the problem with modern movies is not that we have any shortage of great movies, but rather that we are starved for the workhorse staples of the movie-going experience — we don't get nearly enough good romantic comedies, horror movies, or detective stories to satisfy our appetites. Lane first made this argument in the '90s, when the general public was first becoming educated in the fuzzy language of Hollywood economics. This is a world of per-screen averages, overseas box office, and pay-for-play handshake deals. And in this world, it is an increasingly risky proposition to commit $40 million to make a medium-sized movie, when in the end, it would be more prudent to spend that $40 million promoting Bryan Singer's newest superhero flick. Last year, I chose "In Good Company" as the best movie of the year, in part because I thought it represented the best aspects of character-driven, medium-sized moviemaking. "In Good Company" was a modest success, bringing in about $55 million when all was said and done. In all, the movie probably cost about $45 million to make and market. But a $10 million profit just isn't good enough for the people who run the studios. They have a responsibility to corporate stockholders, and nobody is going to get rich off a movie like "In Good Company." Money is made off of event movies that can perform strongly overseas. We may have speculated about the sexuality of Brian Singer's Man of Steel in
"Superman Returns," but it certainly did the trick. All in all, the $220 million movie pulled in more than $300 million worldwide — factoring in merchandising rights, DVD sales, and other incidentals — and most people consider "Superman Returns" a flop. Never underestimate the power of the global economy.
Corrupt, soulless theater owners
If we are to believe Barry Levinson and George Lucas, the actual act of going to the movies in America used to be a romantic endeavor. You would walk to some sparkling movie palace with your best girl on your arm, buy some Cokes, popcorn and candy, and then you'd get to watch a beautiful print of "Rebel Without A Cause" on a 50-foot screen. Because I was a zygote during this era, I am willing to accept this hypothetical as reality. I do not, however, have any difficultly recalling what is like to go to the movies in the year 2006 — it is a horrible experience. Along with costing about as much as a weekend in Prague, the actual act of watching a movie in most American theaters is a painful experience. Along with having filthy screening rooms, most theaters don't frame the film properly and are piping the soundtrack in through inadequate speakers. What's more, because smaller theater chains are getting gobbled up by the ghouls at AMC, we've lost any choice we once had.
The fact that you are a competitive, American S.O.B.
If you are reading this, you are probably an American. And if you are an American, you probably have got a good old-fashioned case of bloodlust. This, of course, is what makes America great: It's why we're 12-1-1 all-time when it comes to fighting foreign wars. But it also contributes to our love for what political analysts call the "horserace" approach to life, in which we reduce everything to a game of winner and losers. This extends to movies. We are all so preoccupied with box office performances that we seem to have lost sight of what is really important. And the thing is, domestic box office numbers (probably the only numbers the average person sees) usually don't tell the whole story about how well a movie performed. But if the public labels a movie a flop, the viewers take that notion away with them, and it colors their perception of everybody involved with the movie.
The Academy Awards are the embodiment of evil
The Oscars are, at best, a mixed bag. On the one hand, they provide the average American with a chance to see people they admire when those people are dressed up and liquored up, which is always enjoyable. The downside to the Oscars is that they honor aggressively average, middlebrow filmmaking. Last year, a horrible movie called "Crash" won Best Picture, even though it was little more than a collection of scenes in which earnest Los Angelinos screamed their feelings at one another. In the past, I have defended "Crash" in a kind of hypothetical manner: Sure, it's bad, I argue, but it's easily the most watchable Best Picture winner of the past five years. "Million Dollar Baby," "The Return of the King," "Chicago" and "A Beautiful Mind" are the kind of polite, achingly dull movies that somebody (probably Brian Grazer) thinks are good for us.
The truth is that these movies aren't good for us. They establish a precedent that the only way to make a movie that Academy Award voters will give their seal of approval to is by being conservative and reactionary. Subconsciously, people who want to win Oscars (which is pretty much everybody in Hollywood) buy into this kind of tepid groupthink. Why do you think every biopic looks exactly the same? It's because they all want to be "Ray."
The same principles even hold true for acting awards, in which more adventurous choices are usually rewarded. If you want to win Best Supporting Actress, you should have a scene where you cry (and, if you are the Renne Zellwegger in "Cold Mountain," a scene where you cry and scream the curious phrase "they made the rain and then they stand in the rain and say, 'It's raining!'"). If you want to win Best Supporting Actor, you have to have a scene where you give somebody advice. Don't believe me? Look at the performances. They speak for themselves, unfortunately.
Ray Gustini is a sophomore majoring in English and journalism. Want to hate on the movie industry with him? E-mail him at [email protected].
