Greetings, my dear students, back to CraveOnline‘s Free Film School, hosted by me, your humble professor, Witney Seibold. I want it understood right up front that I am a brilliant man who knows absolutely everything there is to know about cinema, film history, every single filmmaker, and every possible film technology. You would do well to take every single one of my words to heart, and assure yourself that the truths I utter herein are going to be immovable and immutable. I do not make mistakes. If you think you’ve spotted a mistake, logical fallacy, or dumb opinion, try to think of it as a subtle test. I’ve been testing you by intentionally seeding my lectures with fake mistakes as a means to test your awareness. All of that is most assuredly true. I assure you.
But enough gay banter. This week’s lecture is going to be something of a Modest Proposal to Hollywood, and will be, I hope, the first voice in an eventual choir of people who would call for the same thing. I would like to propose the following radical notion in the following lecture/editorial: No New Movies for One Year.
I have spoken several times in the past about how strongly in favor I am of big Hollywood film studios re-releasing some of their more well-known product. It has been happening (on a limited scale) for the last few years, and I love it when it happens, even if the film in question has to be retrofitted into 3D. When I saw Steven Spielberg’s now-classic 1993 sci-fi adventure film Jurassic Park in theaters just a few short months ago, I was truck at how bold and clear the filmmaking was, but more than that I was struck at how much fun I was having alongside my fellow movie-goers. Also re-released in recent years have been much of the Pixar canon, some Disney animated films, Titanic, and Raiders of the Lost Ark. Coming back to theaters soon is The Wizard of Oz. Most of these films were repackaged with brand new 3D effects, which typically adds nothing to a film (and indeed may often only distract from the classic you’re trying to watch), but it’s awesome to think that some little kids may be seeing films like The Lion King or Raiders for the very first time, and proving how timeless and great some of these movies are.
Often it saddens me to turn on an internet news feed to see headlines like “Benicio Del Toro May Be in Talks to Play an Unknown Character in an As-Yet-Unwritten Superhero Film of Some Sort.” Many film headlines these days are all business insider stuff that was, once upon a time, only relegated to Daily Variety. Film news channels do contain reviews, of course (keeping me and my critical kin constantly working), but you’ll find that the bulk of film news is essentially rumors about upcoming blockbusters. The internet news cycle is so immediate, that’s kind of what film news has been reduced to. We know every step of a film’s production as it happens, and there are reporters willing to record it, and readers willing to read all about it. That’s why so many blockbusters have been so secretive about their stories and visuals and costumes recently: They don’t want every single detail revealed. They don’t want every facet of their film to be seen before the actual release date. In the days before the internet, when we had to content ourselves with trailers and whispers. One could say that this type of protective thinking has, in turn, led to an internet culture of extreme spoiler-wary readers who have become used to news stories that reveal valuable details, and who snipe at reviewers who bother to reveal any detail about any movie. What could I possibly be referring to?
All of this means that casual movie goers have slipped into a state of constantly looking forward. The enthusiasm for an upcoming film will almost always outweigh the enthusiasm for a film seen. A film that is going to be released next week, and comes highly advertised and highly anticipated, will invariably be the Best Movie Ever Made to the people who want to see it. Maybe a few words will be said in the following weeks after the film is released, but soon that film, once viewed, will be shunted aside for more enthused news about the next big blockbuster. Then that film will be seen, enthusiasm will wane, and the cycle continues. By this logic, it seems that in order to make “the best movie ever made,” a savvy filmmaker should make it, complete it, edit it, but then never release it to the public, allowing it to remain conjecture. Or, over the course of three years, show more and more of the movie in previews, keeping the enthusiasm afloat, until you’ve already shown it all. That film would be the most popular and talked-about movie the internet has ever seen.
With this constant looking forward, I fear that many audiences will lose the ability to look back. To peruse film history, to really familiarize themselves with the classics. Repertory film houses do their part. Library-like film societies in Los Angeles like Hollywood’s American Cinematheque or The American Film Institute or The Academy itself are all doing wonderful things to keep films and film history active and alive, but these are smaller L.A.-based screening clubs, and hardly reach the entire country; people in the middle of, say, Kansas, won’t be able to take part in the wondrous 70mm screenings of Lawrence of Arabia that come through L.A. so often.
Talk to most people, and they have rarely seen many movies made before the year of their birth. This is common with high-powered critics and average film-goers alike. We tend to see what’s new in theaters far more often then we see older movies through other means. True, thanks to all forms of home video (including in-home streaming technologies), we have access to all kinds of old movies, and outlets like The Criterion Collection are keeping important movies looking good for us on DVDs and Blu-rays. There is now an almost infinite variety of films almost instantly available to us at all times, and we have the means to give ourselves a proper film education, and see the greatest movies ever made. But even though the choice is openly available to us, we don’t tend to take that path. It’s much easier, after all, to go see whatever’s playing, whatever’s new, whatever’s easiest. We are so distracted by the big-blockbuster advertising, and so lured by the ease of access, that we tend to look past the complex older movies (which would feel like homework) in favor of what’s playing right now, or what’s going to come out in a few years time.
New movies are all well and good of course – every old classic started its life as a new movie – but we don’t just consume the new, we obsess over it. Novelty is greater than quality. “Event movie” is bigger than “great movie.” So many young filmgoers (i.e. the target demographic for most mainstream Hollywood blockbusters) will only go see movies in theaters, and rarely take it upon themselves to reach back to origins and origins of origins, finding out where movies came from, and enjoying universally grand films that were made decades before their birth. Yes, there are many young people out there who do scour for old classics, and I commend each and every one of you, but know that you are the minority. Many of your peers aren’t doing that.
In the interests of preserving film history, and educating the general public in film history, I would like to address all the big Hollywood studios directly, and propose the following: No New Movies for One Year. That’s right: Don’t release any original product for 365 days (and you can make a joke about Hollywood’s tendency toward “original product” here). You must release nothing but films that are archived in your vaults, and they have to be at least fifteen years old. If it’s older than 15, you may release in theaters nationwide. If you have a completed new film, it will have to wait until the following year. Each of the classics you release will also have to be accompanied by a national ad campaign (you may choose how much you want to advertise each film). They don’t have to be Oscar Winners or well-regarded films – you can release whatever you like – but a sudden public influx of your prestige pictures would certainly up your cred.
Now I’m not naïve. I know full well that the film industry employs thousands upon thousands of people, and indeed is a sizable chunk of California’s economy. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of depriving any of the many hardworking actors, photographers, producers, etc., of jobs. I’m not calling a moratorium on all film productions; I’m not a complete anarchist (although I have my moments). You may, Big Studio, continue production on all the films you have planned. Write them, shoot them, edit them, complete the special effects, and keep the trillion-dollar industry alive. But for one year, those completed films will have to be stored in a library. Just for one year. That’s all. It may seem inconvenient, but surely that’s not a huge amount of time. You’ll make the money back eventually. Indeed, if your blockbuster has to be pushed back a year, that may only increase the eager enthusiasm. In the meantime, you can do nothing but make money with your older films. They’re already made, and you already have brand recognition on some of them. You’d spend less on re-releasing an old classic than you would on a whole new movie, even if it was a remake. It seems economically feasible to do this.
I propose that 2017 should be the year we put this plan into action. It’s far away enough that no studios have any sort of solid plans as to what they want to put out (Marvel’s third “phase” is still but a twinkle in Kevin Feige’s eye, and Peter Jackson has yet to commit to a film version of The Simarillion). 2017 will be the year Hollywood starts recycling. Jaws will have its moment back in the sun. Dog Day Afternoon will be seen by a whole new generation of film-loving teenage boys. Snow White & The Seven Dwarfs will enchant youngsters. The high-minded will be able to check out Persona on the big screen. Seven Samurai will look great with a new 4K DCP. And how great would it be if some studios were brave enough to re-issue some of their more obscure movies? I know a small but enthused fanbase, eager for a re-release of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains. Can you imagine the stir something like Putney Swope would cause in 2017? I would love to see L.A. Confidential on the big screen again. Halloween could see marathons of all the classic monster films like Dracula and The Wolf Man. Let’s take the best movies in your Netflix queue – the ones you just never seem to be able to get to – and release them all in theaters. Given the glorious possibilities, one year may not be enough. Imagine being the programmer working for a single studio, say Universal. Now imagine having access to the entire Universal vault. Now imagine being asked to program the whole country for a whole year. The phrase “dream job” doesn’t even begin to describe the delight of that experience.
One exception: Independent films will still be allowed. If an enterprising young filmmaker manages to get their film in theaters, it will not be delayed. The Year Without New Movies is intended specifically for big studios that have been in operation for decades, already control billions of dollars annually, and have an extensive back catalogue of films that are ripe for re-release. Any and all hardworking, up-and-coming artists are allowed to have the art houses reserved for them as usual.
The effect of the Year Without New Movies would be threefold. For one, it would act as a salve for the novelty addiction we movie goers tend to have most of the time (and I am not immune, I look ahead just as often as I look back). Secondly, it will be a valuable relief from year after year of Blockbuster fatigue; I can’t be the only one who’s burnt out on “event” after “event,” longing for an older, quieter, more subtle film to occasionally break up the landscape. Thirdly, and most importantly, by populating theaters with nothing but “classic” product, American audiences will be given – almost forced – an extensive film education. Everyone will “take a break” from all the modern-day supra-films, and hunker down with Double Indemnity. Everyone will love it, and everyone will benefit.
I know this is just a fantasy of mine. Probably a fantasy held by many critics. I highly doubt that any major movie studio – actually any movie studio – would agree to such a plan. But a guy can dream. This isn’t so bad an idea, right?
Homework for the Week:
What movies would you love to see re-released in theaters? Do you think a whole year of nothing but repertory programming in all mainstream theaters actually work? What are the pros and cons of my little plan? Do you think American could go without new movies for a whole year? How about six months? Who would love such a plan? Who would hate it?
Witney Seibold is a featured contributor on the CraveOnline Film Channel, co-host of The B-Movies Podcast and co-star of The Trailer Hitch. You can read his weekly articles B-Movies Extended, Free Film School and The Series Project, and follow him on “Twitter” at @WitneySeibold, where he is slowly losing his mind. If you want to buy him a gift (and I know you do), you can visit his Amazon Wish List.
