THE DEATH OF THE MOVIE STAR, and the Death of Hollywood:
Before Hollywood figured out how to sell you a movie you didn’t want to see, way back in the old studio days when advertising a movie was as easy-breezy as sticking up a poster and few lobby cards at your local theater, you didn’t need to be sold a movie to take an interest. You just needed to be told it was coming. Because if it had a star you liked, you’d go.
That’s what a star was: a means to sell you a ticket.
In those days, the stars meant something; they told you something about the kind of movie it was going to be. Take All About Eve. What does it tell you, a filmgoer, in 1951, as you notice a poster in your local theater? It isn’t a sequel. You haven’t seen these characters before. It isn’t based on a hit book or play, just a short story you never heard of. Why should you buy a ticket? Bette Davis. Whether you love Bette Davis or not, you know what kind of experience a Bette Davis movie will be. Give or take some minor details, it’ll be the story of a hard woman brought down by love or softened up too late; a defiant and bitter woman whose booming voice says I don’t need a thing and whose big eyes, in the last reel, beg you to reconsider.
Intimately related, stars and genres were, in the studio years, instantly intelligible to movie audiences, but while no studio had the exclusive rights to any genre (no studio “owned” comedy), they did have the exclusive rights to say, Cary Grant or Carole Lombard, masters of comedy. “Stars were our insurance,” producer Hal Wallis said. A studio could own and sell that.
But first, they had to make that. Cary Grant, as we know, was born Archie Leach and Jean Arthur was Gladys Georgianna Greene. What accounts for their transformation? It was not by accident — it happens, much less often, today — but by dedicated though unscientific trial and error these and other film actors became stars. The triers and errers were the studios, the rights-holders, outfitting their contract players in dizzying variations of costume, makeup, cast, director and story, until they hit the triple-cherry and audiences clamored for more John Wayne — the weary, heroic cowboy.
It had little to do with acting. Director John Cromwell once said, “An actor’s value in pictures was measured strictly by the amount and character of his fan mail and the reports from exhibitors throughout the country. This was a response to personality rather than a recognition of talent. If some technical facility went with it, then so much the better.”
After the old moguls left the building, and the late ‘60s to mid-’70s “Easy Riders/Raging Bulls” period of dark (but occasionally brilliant) European-inspired films was upended by Jaws and Star Wars, by the mid-2000s, James McCormick wrote at the Chicago Boyz blog, reviewing Edward Jay Epstein’s book The Picture, Hollywood was essentially a clearing house for intellectual property:
Now the Hollywood film industry is dominated by six huge entertainment companies (Paramount, Fox, Sony, Warner Bros. Disney, and Universal). Each integrates broadcast, pay- and satellite TV networks under one umbrella. Some have theme parks and publishing companies. Each has vast merchandising ties with fast-food, music, Internet, and clothing companies (if they don’t actually own those companies). All have monopolistic foreign distribution subsidiaries that can shuffle money between branches to minimize taxes. These giants spent $18 billion dollars in 2003 to create and promote of 80 films around the world, and were rewarded with $6.4 billion in cinema revenue. A net loss of roughly $11 billion.
How Hollywood turns that $11 billion from scary red to perpetual black is part-and-parcel of why your average movie experience is nonsensical feast of noise, pyrotechnics, computer-generated image (CGI) special effects, inane celebrities, and supernatural bulls**t. It’s why dialog is at a minimum, the endings are happy, the movie running times are under 128 minutes, the popcorn is insanely salty, the ratings are usually PG-13, and every plot line requires lots of car chases, monsters, and explosions. Nonetheless, only a tiny handful of the films you see in the theatres will actual make money during theatrical release (known as “current production”). The handful of films that will gross more than a billion dollars follow a similar formula:
All of them:
- are based on children’s stories, comic books, serials, cartoons, or, a theme park ride.
2. feature a child or adolescent protagonist.
3. have a fairy-tale-like plot in which a weak or ineffectual youth is transformed into a powerful and purposeful hero.
4. contain only chaste, if not strictly platonic, relationships between the sexes, with no suggestive nudity, sexual foreplay, provocative language, or even hints of consummated passion.
5. feature bizarre-looking and eccentric supporting characters that are appropriate for toy and game licensing.
6. depict conflict – through it may be dazzling, large-scale, and noisy – in ways that are sufficiently non-realistic, and bloodless, for a rating no more restrictive than PG-13.
7. end happily, with the hero prevailing over powerful villains and supernatural forces (most of which remain available for potential sequels).
8. use conventional or digital animation to artificially create action sequences, supernatural forces, and elaborate settings.
9. cast actors who are not ranking stars – at least in the sense they do not command gross-revenue shares.
In one word, “Spiderman” — in two words, “Harry Potter” — in four, “Lord of the Rings.”
This formula must now also accommodate the domestic tastes and governmental concerns of the eight major foreign markets for Hollywood films that contribute as much or more to profits than domestic income (which includes Canada). In order of financial importance, they are Japan, Germany, Britain, Spain, France, Australia, Italy, Mexico. While the rest of the nations of the world contribute their share to Hollywood wealth, the design and formulation of films is driven only by these eight foreign countries.
Hold on a minute, though. The formulaic kid-bait and toy franchising represented above is only occasionally represented at awards time. Wasn’t last year’s Golden Globes a festival of gay and transsexual awakening? Yes, indeed it was. For part of the emotional cost of making bilge for children from 8-80 is a deep ennui amongst the creative and management talent that feeds the “sexopoly” – the six-company beast. In order to boost morale and acquire prestige, studios, stars, and directors also participate in making movies of interest to them and those they admire. The result is a number of films that will certainly lose money in the cinemas, have only a small chance of recouping costs in DVD or during free TV broadcast, but which will appeal to the creative talent which otherwise is engaged in making merchandisable blockbusters. Make a blockbuster, get an “art-house” film, and maybe an Oscar, as a reward.
According to Epstein, the former studio system of the mid-twentieth century has morphed into the entertainment giants who focus on being financial clearinghouses for the lucrative home entertainment market (games, toys, DVDs, TV broadcast). All else is financially trivial. WalMart, through its loss-leader DVD sales, is now the largest single customer for Hollywood. And the eight foreign nations listed above provide more income that the US/Canada market. Giving the customer what they want drives the film business.
Then came 2020. Quentin Tarantino Says Movies Died in 2019.
What the f**k is a movie now? What the f**k is a movie now? It plays in theaters for a token release of four f**king weeks, and by the second week you can watch it on television. I didn’t get into all this for diminishing returns. … It was bad enough in 2019 and that was the last f**king year of movies. And that was a sh*t deal as far as I was concerned. The fact that it’s gotten drastically worse, and that it’s a show pony exercise — the theatrical release…. Theater? You can’t do that. Theater? Yeah, I pay a lot of f**king money to get in that seat. But there’s no f**king taping it. There’s no f**king cell phones. … you own the audience for that time… And it’s not just about doing art. It’s about wowing them. It’s about giving them a great night out that makes it worth it to them, and that to me is f**king exciting.
As John Nolte responds:
The background here is that Tarantino is currently working on a play, so he’s explaining why that excites him more than making another movie.
The 61-year-old Oscar winner has repeatedly said that his next movie will be his last, and he was close to production on The Movie Critic starring Brad Pitt when he decided to pull the plug and move to playwriting.
The obvious dividing line between 2019 and today was the COVID pandemic, which effectively changed the theatrical business forever, where theatrical releases are currently made available in a matter of weeks at home as a pay-per-view offering. What had been a three-month window is forever shattered.
From a business point of view, this makes sense. The studios want to get those home-bound viewers while the theatrical publicity is still hot. Why pay for two publicity campaigns — theatrical and home — when you can pay for one?
I would love to see Hollywood right the ship and start producing movies that put butts in seats in front of a big screen on a weekly basis once again. But the industry seems to have very different concerns these days.