In my post on Stephen Fry, several readers took issue with my claim that Hollywood was being taken over by blockbuster action movies, usually connected with franchises, and that was a sign of declining standards. But the turn of Hollywood to reliably profitable “action” movies is a real phenomenon, and I recommend that readers have a look at an engrossing new piece in The New Yorker, “The Mogul of the Middle” by Tad Friend (access free). It’s about the uphill attempt of one man, Adam Fogelson, to buck the trend by creating a new studio to make non-blockbuster movies (what I’d call “good” movies). And the piece really does show that although Hollywood has always produced some blockbusters (in the past, they were movies like “Ben-Hur” and “The Robe”, or even some cowboy movies), there’s a very real decline in higher quality stuff. (Yes, that’s my personal judgement.) It’s now all about getting people to come to movie theaters when there’s a whole bunch of competing stuff they can see on the Internet.
I have no objection to the existence of movies like the “Mad Max”, “Batman,” or “Jurassic Park” series, though I don’t go see them. (I have enjoyed some of the Pixar movies!) To each their own. But I would claim two things.
First, maybe people are missing something in their penchant for blockbusters movies—a kind of gratification that you get not from watching people being blown up, but by watching people live their normal, difficult lives, and stepping into their shoes. As I noted in a comment on the Stephen Fry post, some of the Hollywood studio execs in the article say that movies like the great ones of the recent past just wouldn’t get made any more:
The average teen-ager, the moviegoer of the future, sees six films a year in the theatre. Movie theatres are no longer where we go for stories about who we are. That’s become television’s job. We go to the movies now for the same reasons that Romans went to the Colosseum: to laugh, to scream, and to cheer. Comedy, horror, and triumphs of the human spirit still play better in theatres than at home. What plays best of all, of course, is a spaceship going kablooey all over the screen. Extravagant computer-generated imagery is the hallmark of blockbusters that are carefully formulated to avoid being “execution dependent” or “review sensitive”—to avoid needing to be good. One studio head told me, “Movies may not have gotten better over the years, but they’ve gotten more satisfying. A generation ago, execs made movies that they wanted to see. ‘Kramer vs. Kramer’ was a really good movie, but it’s not satisfying to a global audience. Whereas the ‘Harry Potter’ series and the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy weren’t great movies, but they were very satisfying.” The director Billy Ray traced the phenomenon to the economic collapse of 2008, and to the decline of the DVD market. “That’s when corporate timidity gave way to terror,” he said. “Studio people actually said to me, ‘Don’t bring me anything that’s good, because I’ll be tempted to buy it, and I can’t.’ ”
In the same way, I’d argue that people who limit their reading to detective novels or the Harry Potter series are missing something if they don’t essay Tolstoy, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, or Joyce. There are greater depths of humanity in those books than can be found in any “Mad Max” movie. Now maybe that’s not what people go to the movies for, but it seems to me that a life spent watching endless cars blow up and aliens battle Tom Cruise is not as rich as one that includes movies like “12 Angry Men,” which I’m sure wouldn’t get made today.
And I find the line in bold below (my emphasis) immensely sad:
The studios’ turn to spectacle to transfix a restless audience is not new. When TV became popular, in the nineteen-fifties, the studios responded with such CinemaScope behemoths as “The Robe” and “Beneath the 12-Mile Reef.” (Billy Wilder suggested that the widescreen technology might be best suited for filming “the love story of two dachshunds.”) What is novel is the studios’ heavy reliance on the string of sequels known as a franchise. Shawn Levy, the director of the “Night at the Museum” series, said, “We have projects at six studios, and ninety per cent of their attention goes to the ones that are superhero or obviously franchisable. And every single first meeting I have on a movie, in the past two years, is not about the movie itself but about the franchise it would be starting.” Twenty-nine sequels and reboots came out last year, many of them further illuminations of a comic-book universe. One senior studio executive told me, “As a moviegoer, I don’t like seeing all these sequels and franchises. But we have to do justice by the shareholders, and from a marketing perspective it’s a lot easier: ‘Star Wars’—Gee, I wonder what that’s about?” Getting any movie right is hard, so why not make one that can bring in five hundred million dollars?
Second, this blockbuster mentality is driving out the kind of movies that appeal to people who go to movies for reasons similar to those that draw them to good literature. Have you seen the wonderful movie “The Best Years of Our Lives”? Or “The Last Picture Show”? Or “Make Way for Tomorrow”? Or “On the Waterfront”? I doubt that movies like this would be made in today’s Hollywoood. And we’re the poorer for it.
And I’ll say this at the end, knowing that some will be pissed off by it: I simply don’t understand the appeal of movies like “Mad Max: Fury Road,” which involves one long chase scene in a post-apocalyptic world. I found it tedious. The critical acclaim of that movie (it was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar) also eludes me. Thank Ceiling Cat that the Oscar went to a really good movie, “Spotlight.” But as the New Yorker article notes, movies like that are getting harder and harder to make, for they don’t bring in the big bucks, and you can’t franchise them. And there are no car chases.
But I do disagree with Fry on baseball caps and sugary soft drinks. Though I don’t wear hats, and drink only diet sodas, that was a bit out of line.






