When I was in college, I wanted to be a filmmaker. I totally bought into the heady combination of the auteur theory, and the breakthrough of independent film that marked the early 1990s. Back then, it seemed that any film student with a good idea, clever dialogue, and a few credit cards could, a la Kevin Smith, create the next big film, or at least the next cult classic. It seemed that every year, some unknown writer/director was hitting the jackpot at the Sundance festival, getting their labor of love picked up for a million dollars, and getting their foot in the Hollywood’s door.
I was a student of film, too. I watched from three to five new films a week, steeping myself in the history, seeing the films that had inspired the newest generation of creators. And I kept as up to date as I could with everything coming out. I followed awards seasons, became reasonably good at Oscar picks, and listened to a lot of DVD commentaries, to find out how my favorite films were made.
In the last few years, much has changed. I don’t feel that same anticipation to see new films, or get that rush from learning about new projects on the horizon. I used to be crazy for previews, but now they hardly even register. At first, I blamed circumstances. My film viewing dropped off considerably after Lily was born… before, Amy and I used to go through our allotment of three Netfilx films every weekend. But after finding ourselves with much more responsibility and much less free time, we opted to go for shorter, less involved entertainments. And after all, don’t all people at some point start complaining that things used to be better/cheaper/better-made when they were younger?
Lately, though, I’m seeing evidence that I’m not the only person who is finding movies less and less important. On initial consideration, all the usual signposts are there… Ticket prices are rising to offset lower attendance, gimmicks like 3D are becoming prevalent (and also being used to justify those higher ticket prices), etc. But now I’m able to see that the cinema industry is even becoming disenfranchised with *itself*. How?
Take a look at 2011’s top box office hits. Nine out of the ten are sequels. Mark Harris recently wrote in Entertainment Weekly that Hollywood isn’t looking for a hit film anymore, they’re looking for a pilot episode of a franchise that they can reliably crank out for the next ten years. That’s where the real money is. I totally agree. For at least a decade I’ve been blaming Hollywood’s relentless pursuit of sequels, remakes and reboots on the fact that all of the studios, after buying up all the smaller independent film companies, were then themselves snapped up by international media conglomerates. They suddenly found themselves in the position of having to look profitable to a parent for whom a year’s worth of box office receipts made up only a few percent of their total profit. Now more than ever, they’re hedging their bets as best they can, and actively striving to find that ever-elusive lowest common denominator. The sad fact is that such attempts pay off just enough to justify their continued existence.
More evidence that Hollywood itself is feeling the change? Look at the two films from last year that hold the most Academy Award nominations – Hugo and The Artist. The one thing they have in common is that they’re love letters to a bygone era of movies, back in the 1920s and 30s. It’s as if the members of the Academy are themselves looking backward in nostalgia, instead of forward.
The old guard is starting to adapt to the new world, as well. Steven Spielberg, while still celebrated for his continued efforts in films, is moving more and more into television, putting his stamp on no less than four new shows in the last six months. George Lucas, who has always worked outside the traditional system, is now focusing his creative attention on the cartoon television adaptation of his cinematic Star Wars universe. It’s ironic that as movies are now taking on the attitude of television -- where a project’s true value lies in longevity -- some of its largest defenders are now switching to the medium where that’s been the goal all along.
Other iconic filmmakers are leaving the scene in different ways. Stephen Soderbergh, who many consider to be the godfather of the indie film movement, recently announced that he is retiring from filmmaking. When such an insatiable creator of film, with such prolific and wide-ranging interests, believes that he’s accomplished all he can, we have to pay attention to the current quality of the sandbox he’s been playing in all these years.
Movies don’t have the cultural significance they once did, either, which is in part its own fault (because how can the fifth film of any series add something new to the national dialogue, other than maybe a catch phrase?), but media fragmentation is to blame, too. Movies are starting to become marginalized by television and video games, both of which are more immediately available, immersive, and can garner more emotional involvement due to their length. It’s strange how television, originally thought to be the anathema to cinema, seems to have become what movies aspire to be.
Don’t get me wrong. I still love movies. I’m still going to be waiting for something to come along and really speak to me. I’ll even champion the latest book franchise-turned-movie, if the story is good. And I’ve got a hundred years of past classics that still have much to show me. I just hope there are people out there who love film now as much as I used to, enough to keep the medium alive, and maybe have a few filmmakers who want to put on the screen the sort of things I want to see.
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