In October of 2011, Representative Lamar S. Smith (of the great state of Texas) introduced the Stop Online Piracy Act to Congress. The bill’s aim was to bolster copyright holders in fights against those that infringe upon them, and that’s an important task. Intellectual property theft can be incredibly injurious to the victim. In fact, FSR had to cut through red tape in the fall of last year to stop a Chinese-based website from stealing its content and republishing it wholesale. Plagiarism is despicable, and stealing the hard creative work of others is too.

However, SOPA is tantamount to drinking drain cleaner because your nose itches.

The bill is unduly generic – granting massive powers to the government and entities who would wield it like a plaything to shut down websites for spurious reasons and to keep them down throughout what would inevitably be a drawn-out legal process. In short, for an accusation with no meat on it, some of your favorite sites could be shut down on a whim, creating both temporary and possibly permanent damage.

As you can see from our masthead today, we’re in full support of the protest against SOPA (and PIPA, it’s cousin in the Senate). While we don’t know how powerful the SOPA blackout might be, we genuinely wish we could go dark as well, but it’s just not feasible for a site like ours that operates on a smile and a shoestring. Losing a day of revenue is just too much of a burden for a movie magazine that pays writers in cat food and old DVD cleaning kits, but in solidarity, Kevin Carr is going to spend the entire day blacked out on his couch after watching Bucky Larson and Human Centipede 2 simultaneously.

The truth is, you probably already know all about SOPA (and the fact that it’s not slang used for ordering delicious sopaipillas (you raise a flag for that)), but it’s also important to know that the MPAA is firmly in support of the bill and its abusive nature. It’s also imperative to remember that rejecting SOPA is not automatically support for movie piracy.

First off, the MPAA sent out this barn burner of a press release:

WASHINGTON —The following is a statement by Senator Chris Dodd, Chairman and CEO of the Motion Picture Association of America, Inc. (MPAA) on the so-called “Blackout Day” protesting anti-piracy legislation:

“Only days after the White House and chief sponsors of the legislation responded to the major concern expressed by opponents and then called for all parties to work cooperatively together, some technology business interests are resorting to stunts that punish their users or turn them into their corporate pawns, rather than coming to the table to find solutions to a problem that all now seem to agree is very real and damaging.

It is an irresponsible response and a disservice to people who rely on them for information use their services. It is also an abuse of power given the freedoms these companies enjoy in the marketplace today. It’s a dangerous and troubling development when the platforms that serve as gateways to information intentionally skew the facts to incite their users in order to further their corporate interests.

A so-called “blackout” is yet another gimmick, albeit a dangerous one, designed to punish elected and administration officials who are working diligently to protect American jobs from foreign criminals. It is our hope that the White House and the Congress will call on those who intend to stage this “blackout” to stop the hyperbole and PR stunts and engage in meaningful efforts to combat piracy.”

Apologies for turning you into our corporate prawns and punishing you. Don’t pretend like you don’t like it.

Here’s the deal with the MPAA. It’s a great idea that has been implemented like an enema from Nurse Ratched. Instead of being a force for good in a world where parents are interested in knowing what kind of explicit content can be found in art before they expose children to it, it’s embraced a disgusting brand of Nanny-ism that would rather use soft power and the market place to censor work than allow adults to make up their own minds. After years of malfeasance, this full scale attack on the First Amendment, and a profound misunderstanding of their role in the movie industry, it’s time to call for the MPAA to be restructured so that it can do its job and stop hurting artists’ and entrepreneurs’ ability to make movies and money. The first act? To create some accountability in a group that’s completely shielded by auditing of any kind.

As to the statement’s assertions, it’s unclear how the blackout is “dangerous” or how it will hurt the lawmakers behind this bill (unless they don’t like hearing from the people they work for), but to spit so much venom at a group assembling to exercise its fundamental freedoms showcases exactly how the MPAA feels about the general public.

Here’s the catch. While it’s easy to hate SOPA and the people pushing it through like Rosemary’s Baby, it’s also easy to lose sight of the simple fact that online piracy hurts filmmakers.

Sure, it feels about as illegal as driving 10 miles over the speed limit, but there are also real-world consequences. Recently, House of the Devil and Innkeepers director Ti West asked the internet not to steal his movie, but it wasn’t for the obvious reason. It wasn’t about the money:

“Every time you purchase something you are making a statement. You are creating physical evidence that something has value. If something has a high value, then it becomes in high demand. So if you make a concerted effort to support lesser-known, interesting and esoteric things (Art?) then you are helping make those lesser-known things more popular. I’m sure we can all agree that there are incredible movies made every year that never get the attention they deserve – That’s not the movies’ fault. That is our collective fault for not being proactive enough to GO OUT OF OUR WAY to support them.

So yes, I want you to go out of your way and pay for my movie. Not because I’m greedy, but because if the movie makes money (whomever for) that’s tangible evidence of a paying audience out there for movies like mine.”

In fact, West effectively showed that he (and other independent filmmakers in his position) wouldn’t be hurt financially by piracy, but value might be a much more vital imperative. Why? If you love the art, love the artist (or be prepared to go without art).

Pirating these movies hurts filmmakers, and it hurts you in the long run because the types of movies you enjoy might not get made. In a response to West, producer Keith Calder (The Wackness, The Greatest Movie Ever Sold, You’re Next) echoed the sentiments with hopes that the sound in the echo chamber would get louder and burst through the walls. Both pieces are worth perusing, but here’s the money quote from Calder:

“Do you want to live in a world where RESERVOIR DOGS or PULP FICTION wouldn’t be able to get made, because the distributors all assume its audience would just pirate it? Because that’s where we’re headed right now.”

A chilling, illuminating question.

Calder is correct to point out that the industry believes that younger audiences won’t pay for anything except blockbusters, and that the core problem is that evidence of piracy only advances that theory. Stealing movies from filmmakers is like dining and dashing at your favorite restaurant after leaving a note saying how much you love their food. Pretty soon, the restaurant goes bankrupt, and you have nowhere to eat pancakes at.

We as movie fans owe it to the creators of the art we enjoy and to ourselves to police ourselves and fiercely reject any attempt from an outsider to tell us that we can’t responsibly appreciate movies or any other media.

SOPA isn’t just about stopping Canadian drugs from crossing the border, and it’s not just about Chinese and Russian websites scraping content. No, rejecting the perversion of SOPA or the asinine contempt of MPAA shouldn’t also be a score for online piracy, but these bills are the real enemies here. If you haven’t already, contact your congressperson to let them know how you feel and then go watch Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. For one, the only way a blackout like this works is if it makes enough noise, and for two, that movie is awesome. Jimmy Stewart crushes it.

Hopefully that’s what we’ll all do to SOPA. Down with piracy, down with the MPAA and down with witch-hunting bills that take power from the people.

In other words: Damn the Man. Save the Empire.

On January 11, 1991, the then-head of Disney studios, Jeffrey Katzenberg, circulated an incredibly important memo about the state of the movie industry and the products they were making. It was called, “The World is Changing: Some Thoughts on Our Business,” and it had a simple purpose: to locate the root of a growing problem and to take steps to avoid falling victim to it.

Katzenberg began the memo by stating:

“As we begin the new year, I strongly believe we are entering a period of great danger and even greater uncertainty. Events are unfolding within and without the movie industry that are extremely threatening to our studio.”

As we begin a new year two decades after this memo was written, it’s critical to look back at the points Katzenberg made to see that his period of great danger is now our period of great danger, to note that the same events unfolding within and without the industry still threaten the entire studio system in 2012, and to predict our future based on the past.

There are definite similarities between 1991 and 2012. The country was in a recession then and finds itself crawling out of one now. We were dealing with an Iraq invasion then, and we’re dealing with the aftermath of another now. The country was losing economic power while maintaining cultural dominance then, and it’s the same story now. Disney was the #1 studio then, and although they weren’t last year, they still busted $1b while coming in at #4.

Studios are still judging box office success against Batman.

Now, with all this talk about money, it might seem like fans have no stake in this game, but we all do. Imagine the top six studios from last year (Paramount, Warners, Sony, Disney, Universal and Fox) as players at a poker table. When the chip stacks are high, they can all afford to test the pot with some wild hands. They can get creative with what they play. Unfortunately, the stacks aren’t high, which means they can’t get as loose, and while some attractive cards may come their way, they’re all trying to get dealt a full house.

That means the same hand being played for fans, and for those that like variety in their life, these are the salad days. But we’ll get to that later when we optimistically predict the future.

The Katzenberg Memo

For now, let’s live in the past with Mr. Katzenberg. At its core, his 1991 memo has three major statements to make about how movies are made:

1. The Blockbuster Mentality – There is no middle ground anymore because massive resources are put into 1-3 movies per year that hold the fate of the studio hostage. Instead of making ten $30m movies, they make one $300m flick that has to succeed in record-breaking ways. To do that, all efforts must be focused on a giant opening weekend that will earn notoriety alongside a big chunk of the overall gross. Further, even if the film does well, it will be called a failure if it doesn’t make as much as Batman (1989). The result? Overspending on a dangerously difficult bar to clear while over projects go unfunded.
2. The Movie Industry Isn’t Recession-Proof – As Katzenberg points out, the reason movies appear to be recession-proof is because people have historically run to escapist entertainment during hard times. The facts might partially support the theory, but Katzenberg shows the theory itself to be misguided – stating that, “When there is fear and uncertainty, the people have craved bargain entertainment. During previous downturns, the best escapist entertainment value was at the movie theaters. But no longer.”
3. The Rise and Fall of the Movie Star – With the inflation of budgets and grosses, two things happened almost simultaneously. One, actors (and writers and directors and everyone) started (rightfully) demanding their fair share of the profits. Two, the concept of movie stars buckled. It’s unclear when “movie stars” stopped being as bankable as they once were, but actors demanded more money while they had less to do with financial success.

All of these points could be made today.

Coupled with other fads, studios are scrambling hard to make sure that their tentpoles are safe. That’s why Sony is rebooting with The Amazing Spider-Man. It’s why Warners needed The Green Lantern to be a mad success (and why they’re automatically planning on continuing with Batman movies post-Nolan). It’s why the seven highest grossing movies of 2011 were sequels (and why 17 of the highest 20 were either already part of a franchise or the planned beginning of one). Studios can no longer afford to create name recognition – it has to come built-in.

At the beginning of our most recent recession, analysts like The New Yorker’s James Surowiecki prematurely hailed movies for being recession-proof. Even as late as August of last year, Hollywood.com’s Paul Dergarabedian claimed erroneously that people only focus on price when they have a negative experience while citing it as part of the reason why summer ticket sales were up (further confusing the myth of movies in tough economic times). Of course, at the end of the year, the final numbers showed that ticket sales were about half-a-billion behind 2010 and attendance was at its lowest since 1995. There’s no point in believing a single year is proof of a trend, but it certainly injures the blind belief that movies always do well in times of trouble. They sure didn’t last year.

As for movie stars, the big names still exist, but there are fewer of them and they’ve lost the luster of being sure things. We’re too familiar with them for them to remain glamorous, studios have struggled to foist new unproven “stars” like Channing Tatum and Sam Worthington on the public, and as Landon Palmer wrote back in 2009, our definition of what makes a movie star has shifted irrevocably and in a way that isn’t nearly as obviously beneficial to the people banking their shots off names and faces.

All of this to show that reading Katzenberg’s memo is a bit jarring because of how accurately it predicts the environment of filmmaking in 2012. Beyond the aforementioned echoes, he comments on theaters being choked by sequels; he shuns the idea that children’s movies are just for kids (something Pixar picked up and ran with); and he alludes to a partnership with Jerry Bruckheimer that won’t necessarily have to be about blockbuster building (which, fair enough, turned out to be a bit wrong). Still, it’s creepy.

True Then, True Now

Considering the current resurgence, it’s fascinating to note that Katzenberg’s negativity toward the Blockbuster Mentality in 1991 is sparked by two comic book movies. The first is Batman and its unforeseeable effect on the way other big movies were judged. The second is Dick Tracy – Disney’s big budget blockbusting contender that year. In his own words, it was:

“…a film that did very well, a film we were rightly proud of, a film that was critically acclaimed… and a film that is still being savagely disparaged as ‘having failed to achieve Batman-like success at the box office.’

This is not a healthy situation. If every major studio release must aspire to repeat the 1989 success of Batman, then we will undoubtedly soon see the 1990’s equivalent of Cleopatra, a film that was made in the hope of repeating the 1959 success of Ben Hur.”

And so it goes.

Dick Tracy has a modern equivalent in The Green Lantern. Both are comic book-based and feature cocky heroes who fight crime while hanging out with bizarre-looking characters. Both are technically and visually interesting. Both should have been bigger hits based on the formula that existed. Both pulled in millions of dollars in ticket sales. However, they were both failures in their own ways. Katzenberg prophetically, of course, has an explanation for it. Here, he’s talking about Dick Tracy and The Rescuers Down Under‘s inability to grow the “legs” the studio wanted, but for our purposes, let’s pretend he’s talking about Dick Tracy and Green Lantern:

“In both movies, everything remained static for the main characters. At the end, nothing elemental had changed. To compensate for the lack of an emotionally driving core story, the two films showered the audience with dazzling and inventive ‘business.’ But much of this failed another test of storytelling — i.e., the movies would still have made sense had many of these scenes been cut. Just like songs in a musical, no matter how beautiful the melody, if they don’t move the plot along, they don’t belong.”

Spectacle is nice, but it can never compensate for a lack of engaging characters and a compelling story. This is precisely the reason why both of these movies failed to be bigger successes, and it’s the reason (coupled with high pricing) why 3D is fizzling after a year where studios could have sworn it would save them.

What will save them (and save fans)? Writers who can write story. Filmmakers and actors who can deliver great character. Oh, and spectacle-makers who can make magic. They have a place too.

Katzenberg knew this in 1991, but it seems to be a lesson studios haven’t quite learned yet here in 2012. However, with the budget for a tentpole like The Amazing Spider-Man getting trimmed down, maybe they’re on the verge. Maybe they can still change.

The Money Quote

It’s difficult to pin down a singular point from this invaluable piece of writing because it’s so broad in its scope. It covets a principle, a philosophy about film production that can’t be broken up piecemeal. Katzenberg highlights storytelling as their most important job, but the businessman in him shines through as well. So, then, this might be the core message:

“Any film can fail at the box office. And that’s o.k. It’s part of our business. No one can know for certain what the public will want to see. So the basic problem with the above movies [a list of flopped sequels] wasn’t that they were ill conceived or misguided or even bad entertainments. The problem was that they were just too expensive.”

It may seem simple. It may seem to let producers off the hook. It may seem craven, but it gets to the heart of the problem. The Blockbuster Mentality that Katzenberg so fervently fought against has taken over the studio system, including Disney, and threatens fans in a major way. The behemoth idea is anathema to risk-taking, it steals money from the coffers for other movies, and it drives a world of creativity toward toy sales and stagnancy. It’s odd that in a time of panic, people will grab for anything to save them from sinking except solid ground. Maybe the studios have been adrift for so long that they’ve forgotten how to find the shore, but the building blocks of story haven’t changed; the reason the past few years of studio offerings have been so underwhelming is that they’ve been wrapped up in plastic, unable to see what audiences still want.

The answer isn’t more explosions; it’s characters we care about running away from more explosions.

Although he fought hard against a raging sea of change, Katzenberg left Disney a few years after writing this memo to found DreamWorks with Steven Spielberg and David Geffen – a studio not without Blockbuster Mentality blame here in the future.

A Simple Prediction

What happened in the 1990s after Katzenberg expressed his fear at the laziness of studios? The independent industry grew to fill the void. Filmmakers like Kevin Smith, Ed Burns, Jim Sheridan, Spike Lee, Steven Soderbergh, and Quentin Tarantino led the Indie Movement to critical and commercial heights.

The same thing will happen in this decade. Now that the means to make a movie and the equally important tools to promote the thing are within arm’s reach, the Second Indie Movement that’s been talked about for half a decade is finally ripe for revolution. If quality is missing from studio pictures, audiences will seek it elsewhere (especially if they can find it on iTunes or on their own television screen for a smaller ticket price).

Of course, the studios bought out and co-opted the independent houses of the 90s, too. That will probably happen again as well, but for now, we’re on the cusp of a great change in power unless, and only unless, the studios can remove the rotten core of their production philosophy and replace it with an emphasis on fundamentals over flash. They must realize they’ve fallen victim to the very danger and uncertainty about which Katzenberg warned.

Fortunately, this is all reason to be optimistic for we fans who stand patiently in line at the box office hoping to be transported and transformed. The slump, either by indie takeover or big budget wake-up call, will be over soon.

Until the next one.

We all know the story. In a panic to find a spectacle that could provide a bit of magic and a higher ticket price for the cinema, the studios turned again to 3D. Thanks to technological advances and a long vacation from the third dimension, it all seemed fresh and new again (even if the bulk of it was put together with rushed post-conversion). Whether you believe it’s just a fad that’s on the way out or believe it to be grand revolution of the art, time is the only one who has the final word on it, but for now the truth (like in all things) probably lies somewhere between those two extremes.

And it’s a lack of extremes that make Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese the wisest public speakers on the subject. Here’s Spielberg at Comic-Con last year:

“I’m certainly hoping that 3D gets to the point where people do not notice it, because once they stop noticing it it just becomes another tool and an aid to help tell a story. Then maybe they can make the ticket prices comparable to a 2D movie and not charge such exorbitant prices just to gain entry into a 3D one, with the exception of IMAX, where we are getting a premium experience in a premium environment, but to show a 3D movie in a similar theater in a multiplex next to another similar theater showing a 2D movie. I’m hoping someday there will be so many 3D movies that the point of purchase prices can come down, which I think would be fair to the consumer. Not every movie, in my opinion, should be in 3D. There’s a lot of stories I wouldn’t shoot in 3D. But, you know, there are movies that are perfect in 3D.

And here is Scorsese’s recent response (via Variety):

“I agree with Steven. I had always been interested in 3D, and I thought it made sense for Hugo. Generally, whenever there’s a new technological development, there’s a corresponding sense of excitement. The same thing happened with the introduction of three-strip Technicolor and CinemaScope and Dolby. And then everyone remembers it’s only a means, not an end. Real 3D is beautiful, but it’s just one choice, one tool among many, and you only want to use it if it’s the right tool.”

These are two masters of the art form who both proved last year that they could elevate the usage of 3D. The key here is that the tech can’t be viewed as a savior for the industry, which is how it was re-introduced. It has to be seen as a tool, and since you wouldn’t cut a board in half with a tire iron, you shouldn’t slam 3D into a film where it can’t be of any use.

Story has to come first, and if 3D can be used to enhance that experience, to provide a sense of wonder alongside vibrant characters, to bring something already engaging into greater focus – then it can be something truly powerful.

However, as it stands, a bad movie in 3D isn’t just a bad movie – it’s one you paid more for. Spielberg and Scorsese shouldn’t just be celebrated for their stellar use of an updated tool, they should be commended for speaking so levelheadedly about it.

Here’s to comparable ticket prices and craftsmen who know how to use their tools.

Amidst the pinky-out prestige of awards season sits the manic pixie of The People’s Choice Awards. Perhaps they can easily be dismissed by the cinephile crowd for not being nearly well-rounded or interesting enough, but looking at the nominees and the winners can provide a bird’s eye view into the abyss of mass-entertainment.

With over 200 million votes cast, according to a press release, the winners included Emma Stone, Ryan Reynolds as The Green Lantern, Adam Sandler‘s comedy and Bridesmaids. To put that into perspective, that’s a ridiculous amount of people. To really put it into perspective, it’s 7.6 million more people than the entire population of Brazil, and it’s 2/3rds the population of the United States.

The giant, faceless wad of “the people” have made these their movie champions of 2011:

Favorite Movie Actress

Emma Stone
Julia Roberts
Jennifer Aniston
Reese Witherspoon

Favorite Movie Actor:

Daniel Radcliffe
Hugh Jackman
Johnny Depp
Robert Pattinson
Ryan Reynolds

Favorite Comedic Movie Actress:

Cameron Diaz
Emma Stone
Jennifer Aniston
Mila Kunis
Natalie Portman

Favorite Comedic Movie Actor:

Adam Sandler
Ashton Kutcher
Bradley Cooper
Ryan Reynolds
Steve Carrell

Favorite Ensemble Movie Cast:

Bridesmaids
The Hangover Part II
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides
X-Men: First Class

Favorite Movie Star Under 25:

Daniel Radcliffe
Tom Felton
Chloe Grace Moretz
Rupert Grint
Emma Watson

Favorite Action Movie Star:

Hugh Jackman
Ryan Reynolds
Shia LaBeouf
Taylor Lautner
Vin Diesel

Favorite Animated Movie Voice:

Anne Hathaway as Jewel, Rio
Jack Black as Po, Kung Fu Panda 2
Johnny Depp as Rango, Rango
Katy Perry as Smurfette, The Smurfs
Owen Wilson as Lightning McQueen, Cars 2

Favorite Drama Movie:

Moneyball
Water for Elephants
The Help
Limitless
The Adjustment Bureau

Favorite Comedy Movie:

The Hangover: Part II
Bad Teacher
Crazy, Stupid, Love
Friends With Benefits
Bridesmaids

Best Action Movie

Fast Five
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
Thor
Transformers: Dark of the Moon
X-Men: First Class

Favorite Movie Superhero:

Chris Evans as Captain America
Chris Hemsworth as Thor
James McAvoy as Professor X
Jennifer Lawrence as Mystique
Ryan Reynolds as Green Lantern

Favorite Movie Icon:

Robert De Niro
Harrison Ford
Tom Hanks
Morgan Freeman
George Clooney

So what have we learned?

1. You have to separate the Comedic Actors from the Regular Actors, but Emma Stone will win no matter what.
2. But even thought they love her, the people apparently didn’t love the movie she was in the best.
3. The cast from Harry Potter 8 is the best ensemble, but when you put them up individually against Chloe Moretz, Hit Girl will kick their asses.
4. The people love some Hugh Jackman action, but Real Steel wasn’t even nominated for Best Action Movie. Possibility: his 1-second cameo in First Class was enough to cement it. Other Possibility: His seething role in Butter put him over the top action-wise.
   
5. Both Johnny Depp’s voice and his actual physical presence are big fan favorites.
6. Despite making $120m less worldwide than Captain America, the people still love Ryan Reynolds as Green Lantern the most.
7. Apparently no one seeing Jack and Jill helped Adam Sandler win an award. Since no one saw it, how would they know he’s that unfunny?
8. Voice overs will only be done by major celebrities (and not voice over artists) forever and ever and ever and ever.
9. There might be some overlap between the People’s Choice and the Oscars in the form of Bridesmaids. If it’s nominated, it will be the rare film that captures the popular and the critical affection movies use for fuel (like robots and old people’s medicine). There will also be overlap with Rango and possibly with Harry Potter 8 since it’s gone 0-7 with Best Picture nominations.
10. God is now a movie icon.

Some interesting notes, but ultimately they all come about because 200 million votes got mashed together to form a single, weird view. But they should not be discredited. For all the black-tie affairs that happen this time of year, it’s always important to remember that this is what the people wanted. This is what the huddled masses enjoy the most: Adam Sandler, Ryan Reynolds, Harry Potter, Hugh Jackman, Emma Stone, and a comedy about a woman-child who can’t handle being a maid of honor.

What say you?

Favorite Action Movie Star:

Hugh Jackman (Winner)
Ryan Reynolds
Shia LaBeouf
Taylor Lautner
Vin Diesel

We can complain all we want, rationalize, or hope for the best, but the easiest way to stop the remake assault that studios have foisted upon audiences is not to pay for it. The studio system still hasn’t found a silver bullet for killing the monster of low attendance, and 2011 might have been the worst wake-up call they could get. Movie attendance fell by 4.4% from 2010, down to the lowest level since 1995. The problematic silver lining is that foreign sales are higher, which could result in even more broadly-appealing (and “appealing” is used generously here) movies that are generic and treat dialogue like a second-class citizen.

On the losing side of the field (the one where producers aren’t having Gatorade dumped on them), are the remakes of 2011. Remakes are thought to be attractive because they come with built-in name recognition for audiences, and development has already been partially done for a story that’s already proven itself as a money-maker. For fans, they’re also infuriating because they signal both a lack of creativity coming out of an industry built on it and the potential (likely) bastardization of something we hold dear (and, yes, of course the original is still out there; it’s the principle of the thing).

So it may come as pleasant news for some to see that remakes, regardless of their quality of genre, failed spectacularly at the box office this year. It’s the kind of thing that may just deter producers from trying to trade on name recognition alone and either give up the ghost on remakes or focus a bit more on creating good entertainment from stories that have already been told. Here’s how the numbers break down:

Movie (Budget not including advertising) – Total Worldwide Gross

Source: Box Office Mojo

Arthur ($40m) – $45.7m

Conan the Barbarian ($90m) – $48.7

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark ($25m) – $31.5m

Footloose ($24m) – $62.5m

Fright Night ($30m) – $37m

The Mechanic ($40m) – $50m

Straw Dogs ($25m) – $10.3m

Using only the raw, quivering data, Conan and Straw Dogs were the only films to lose money. However, we all know that there’s more to the story than just these numbers; this is the polite version of the data. It doesn’t take into consideration the overhead for advertising and the like, or the revenue split between different producing partners. Because of that,  Arthur, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, Fright Night, and The Mechanic are all undoubtedly money-losers.

The only real winner is Footloose, and its victory is a well-deserved yet moderate one. In a pack of remakes, it alone came out victorious.

Conan did not. What was supposed to be a major tentpole for Lionsgate (with sequels already in the works) tanked hard.

So what does this mean? Who knows. Every year since the year after the invention of movies, we’ve seen a handful of remakes rise up from wherever they come from. It’s not a fad; it’s a time-honored practice that has yielded some incredible films and a whole pile of terrible ones, but it’s unlikely either way that the filmmaking method will cease completely.

On the other hand, these numbers can’t have been encouraging for the decision-makers with the checkbooks. If they under-perform, and worse, if they lose money, the Hollywood Math that remakes aren’t good business may signal a slowdown of those news announcements that make us roll our eyes.

On the bright side, there were only 7 remakes last year. That’s about average, but it’s a sobering fact to remember that only a mere 2.3% (est.) of movies that come out are ones we’ve technically seen before.

Now, as Ray Subers points out, it’s really franchises and sequels we need to watch out for.

In his latest blog post, Roger Ebert was plainspoken when remarking: “Unless we find an angel, our television program will go off the air at the end of its current season.” The reason, despite the show’s measured success? They can’t afford to make it anymore.

It’s a simple (yet intractable) problem with an equally simple (yet harrowing) solution. Now, more than ever, Ebert Presents: At the Movies needs to do what public television and radio have been doing for decades – hold a fundraising drive.

However, instead of setting up phone banks and interrupting our regularly scheduled programming to promise us a tote bag with our $100 donation, Ebert and the show need to step into the modern world of fundraising with Kickstarter.

The reasons are fairly obvious. A younger generation of movie fans is well aware of Ebert and the show with its hosts Christy Lemire and Ignatiy Vishnevetsky. They know and revere the name Ebert as an icon of film thought and criticism, and what’s more, their parents are using social media more and more, meaning that it isn’t just up to the youth to save the rec center this time around.

Plus, this would be a marriage of a popular icon and a website platform that raises funds for creativity directly from those who might benefit from it. Indie filmmakers use it; why not indie filmmaking critics? If Ebert is accurate about the show’s success – that its “ratings place [it] among the top shows on public television, and compare to the ratings of cable news. And [it has] loyal and vocal followers,” then it’s time to call upon those loyal and vocal followers to chip in their two cents. That angel Ebert speaks of might actually be thousands of angels, and Kickstarter might give them their wings.

With all the respect and admiration in the world, I also offer this bit of criticism. Why has the zero hour come so quickly? Ebert notes that they’ll need to answer affiliates as to whether the show will continue this month, yet they don’t have the dollars to back up a positive answer. If they self-financed the show through December, either they didn’t plan long term or they very recently decided they didn’t/couldn’t self-finance beyond the year and failed to have a safety net in place. I don’t pretend to know the inner workings of the show (or of any show that airs on public stations), but if you can only budget for a certain time, you’d better damn sure be making phone calls to foundations and underwriting corporations months before you’re looking at the axe. If the procuders choose to use Kickstarter (which seems like the best possible route barring any massive money drops they may get from making phone calls in their last days), they should use it as a golden parachute that gives them the freedom to plan accordingly for the next few seasons and beyond.

I firmly agree that a show like this needs to exist. You can always rely on fans for support, but that doesn’t mean you should always rely on fans for support. Mr. Ebert, start a Kickstarter campaign for your show, and prepare to be amazed at what those who love your work are really capable of.

It just might save the show.

Last weekend, a film called The Worst Movie Ever! (complete with an exclamation mark in the title) played two midnight showings at the Laemmle Sunset 5 in Los Angeles and made only $11. That means that one person attended only one of the screenings, which means that if the filmmaker’s mother came out to support him, he wasn’t there to hold her hand.

It’s difficult to say with certainty, but the whole thing seems fishy. If you were four-walling your own movie, wouldn’t you want to be there? Wouldn’t the actors and people who worked on the thing show up for support even if it meant paying for their own ticket? Is it just blind luck that advertising brought in only one person interested in seeing it (thus making it the lowest-grossing opening weekend ever)?

For any other movie, these questions might not even pop up. When the infamous Zyzzyx Road scored $20 during its one-weekend-long domestic run, it became a humorous anecdote in movie history, but there was nothing suspicious about it. In that case, producer Leo Grillo only opened the film in order to fulfill a domestic run needed to sell it to foreign markets. In the case of the self-proclaimed The Worst Movie Ever!, writer/director/producer/star Glenn Berggoetz has clearly made a film so intentionally bad that a newsworthy, historically low weekend take can only benefit it.

And it has.

If you don’t believe that the film is premeditatedly cult-like, take a look at the trailer:

It’s the kind of thing that RiffTrax dreams about while sleeping in a pool of excitement sweat. Bargain basement effects, non-existent action, brutally non-funny comedy, and a plot that was written after a bottle of Ritalin didn’t do its job – The Worst Movie Ever! is the filmic equivalent of the Look-What-I-Can-Do kid from MadTV. Even the title itself makes that obvious.

Of course, there are two kinds of cult films. The first category finds work like Rocky Horror Picture Show and Fight Club. Movies that have a niche audience and expanded in popularity with a core of rabid fans. The second category finds movies like The Room where failure is so complete that it inspires awe. These are the films that no one sits through in silence; they demand commentary and mockery even as they play out on-screen.

Berggoetz and company may have made a movie that fits into that second category, but unlike Tommy Wiseau, they’ve succeeded at failing (instead of trying hard and still falling short). Or, if Wiseau is actually a raw genius who never breaks the act as some believe, they’ve succeeded at failure far more overtly.

And that success at failure has led to more success. The movie won’t stand as the lowest grossing of all time for long because:

• it’s now available online for download
• the Laemmle Sunset 5 has decided to replay the film based on demand
• the Alamo Drafthouse in Winchester, VA has ordered a screening of the movie
• distribution companies are contacting Berggoetz about foreign distribution deals

There is a small phenomenon happening here that seems born from a formula for cult success. Make a terrible, mockery-worthy movie; score a box office so low that it demands attention; profit.

There are one of two options here. Either Berggoetz and company orchestrated a dismal showing on their opening to create buzz or they got lucky. It’s impossible to know which is right, but either way, they owe a lot to that one person.

Primarily that he or she didn’t bring a friend.

What do you think?

Sources: Movieline, The Worst Movie Ever! Facebook Page, Box Office Mojo

In 1985, the Graphics Group in LucasFilm‘s Computer Division was on the chopping block. As Robert Sutton relates, George Lucas wasn’t confident that computer animated films had much of a future, and as a result, department heads Ed Catmull and Alvy Ray Smith (two pioneers of extreme importance) were being pressured to fire some of their workers. Instead, they offered up their own names to be culled, which saved the entire division. At least for that moment. It’s unclear what fate might have fallen on the Graphics Group had the Computer Division not been purchased in 1986 by Apple co-founder Steve Jobs for a tidy $5m.

Of course, we know this department by another name: Pixar.

Jobs put his money down on a company he believed in, and the result stands currently as 26 Academy Awards, an absurd amount of box office money, a legion of fans worldwide and nearly complete animation dominance in the movie world. In 2006, Disney bought Pixar at an evaluated worth of $7.4b, making Jobs the largest Disney shareholder. He is stepping down as Apple’s CEO today, and even though it’s hard to say what kind of effect that might have on the film world, Jobs’s legacy already extends far beyond Pixar and beyond The Mouse.

It’s tough to know how Jobs directly impacted the worlds of Pixar and Disney, but it seems a fair assumption that Pixar’s success (at the very least) was due in large part to how Jobs allowed the company to be run. Creativity was and is king. He essentially created the modern Pixar by allowing it to breathe and by giving the inmates the keys to the kingdom. He had just as profound an impact as Catmull and Smith; it just took a different, less obvious shape. It also wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that without Jobs, Pixar probably wouldn’t exist.

That impact is enough to make his resignation from Apple worth talking about for movie fans, but it’s also Apple technology that has changed the face of filmmaking and film watching in our time.

Take for example what the Spierig Brothers did on Daybreakers using “a very basic Mac desktop.” Or consider Rian Johnson editing Brick “using Final Cut Pro on a Mac, in [his] bedroom.” How many other upstart filmmakers use their macs at home running Final Cut to create films that were far better than what could have been done years prior? Some of the software Jobs and Apple created helped usher in the world of filmmakers coming out of their bedrooms rather than film school.

In a sense, Apple erased the need for an Avid workstation. It had a revolutionary effect on how indie filmmakers are able to make their art. It put that art within reach.

Then, of course, there’s the iPad and the iPhone, two devices that have changed the way millions of people consume media. We now stream Netflix from just about anywhere, we take digital copies of movies with us on long road trips, we use apps to buy movie tickets on the way to the theater. More so than that, the iPad is helping Hollywood combat piracy. With Netflix, iTunes, cloud streaming and digital copies with DVDs, people can so much more easily get movies for a few dollars than have to risk the FBI showing up at their door for downloading the latest Jack Black movie.

For film fans, Jobs’s is a legacy worth talking about, because Apple, aside from being a marketing and business savvy machine that has meticulously amassed a brand that has more money than the US government, is a company that loves giving people the tools to create and consume artistic media — from music to photos to film. “Creative people use macs,” has been the calling card for so long, but it wasn’t that way without their co-founder and CEO. Now, at least that chapter of influence, is closing.

A member of Disney’s Board of Directors, the former CEO of Pixar (and the company’s savior), and CEO of a company hugely responsible for a new wave of technological advancement for filmmakers and film fans, Jobs has touched movies in a way few can even dream about.

And if that weren’t enough, he, of course, was also immortalized by Noah Wyle in the 1999 TV movie Pirates of Silicon Valley.

With his departure as CEO of Apple, it’s important to pause and reflect on Steve Jobs’s significance to the world of movies and to look ahead to what the future (whether it be more Pixar films or a young punk in high school messing around with Final Cut) might be like thanks to a man whose influence on that world might not always be apparent.

It may be considered old news since it happened a whole week ago, but Disney passing on The Lone Ranger is a remarkably good sign. It’s noteworthy for more than the average news of the day because it hints at a crack in the current foundation of studio thinking. It’s barely ever publicized, since a studio refusing to make a film is hardly newsworthy, but a project this high-profile, featuring talent like Johnny Depp and Gore Verbinski, that’s been reported on so thoroughly used to be a done deal. Now, that’s not the case.

It’s not like this is the end of the story crisis or anything, but it’s the Hollywood equivalent of a crack addict putting down the pipe, and it should be celebrated.

None of this is to say that The Lone Ranger would have been a bad movie. Hell, it could have been a ridiculous adventure where Johnny Depp tossed on war paint and battled werewolves. Audiences could have laughed and laughed and had a great time. Benjamin Netanyahu and and Mahmoud Abbas might have watched it and decided to stop all the silly fighting between Israel and Palestine. Who knows.

In all of those ways, it’s cancellation is a downer (since Disney could have ended the Israeli/Palestinian conflict), but in just about every other way, it represents a true benchmark where a film not being made is perhaps more significant than one being greenlit.

In short order, Disney just refused:

1. A remake/reboot of a known entity that would be given the massive budget treatment.
2. A giant budget for a film that doesn’t necessarily require it.
3. A budget bloated by talent payments.
4. An In Name Only reboot.

Gore Verbinski, the man who grossed $2.6b and launched a franchise that just grossed more for The Mouse, pitched essentially the same package, and Disney politely showed him the door. This scenario would have been unimaginable a few years ago. After all, this is The Formula. Dollar signs would have flashed, people would have seen the one-sheet, and Burger King would already be on the phone. So what’s changed?

Steven Zeitchik asserts that it’s 1) the budget and 2) the way studio executives are thinking about money these days. That’s absolutely the root cause. The reported breakdown claimed that The Lone Ranger (with its $250m budget) would need to make $800m to make a profit, which, as anyone studying Second Grade Mathematics can explain, is ridiculous. Granted, this kind of math is an anomaly, but it’s also one sign of how broken the system is. Either that, or tray inserts at fast food places have gotten insanely expensive. Those numbers are most likely correct given the split, advertising, prints and the other slices of pie scraps given to theaters that show the damned thing – meaning that it’s not the math that’s crazy, but the methods in place.

That Middle East Peace claim might be off the beam, but the comment about werewolves wasn’t. Verbinski’s treatment was heavy on the Tonto as well as the Native American werewolf spirits plot. Needlessly to say, it seems to have been less than faithful to the original subject matter. Still, the budget is still a mystery, because even though a supernatural component might inflate the numbers, it still doesn’t boost a movie up to $250m by itself.

For some context, a $250m budget would tie The Lone Ranger with Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince as the fourth most expensive films ever made. Unsurprisingly, it’s Verbinski and Jerry Bruckheimer (and Disney) that hold the record with Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End clocking in at an even $300m. For more context, there are only 23 films that break the $200m budget barrier (adjusted for inflation) and 18 of them were released after 2004. This is truly the era of gigantic movies (especially if that remake of Cleopatra tries to outpace its predecessor). The Lone Ranger might be the first victim of a backlash against it.

After all, there’s no reason that a Western should cost that amount of money; True Grit cost $38m and didn’t have any werewolves in it. In fact, with as effects-heavy as Transformers: Dark of the Moon is, its budget still came in under $200m. Appropriately, Verbinski and Bruckheimer aren’t that kind of filmmaker. They shove padding into budgets. When you can shave $10m off your own fees and still be pleased as punch to make the film, it’s a sign that you’ve overestimated your bid. That’s not even mentioning what Depp’s fee might be in a post-movie star era.

On one hand, a major studio just turned down a proven creative talent using a name property to create an event movie that has international appeal, a budget comparable to his other like films and one of the most recognizable actors on the planet (who happened to be in the last giantly successful franchise).

So why is it a great thing that it got dumped?

Because on the other hand, we live in a world where fan response can be typically stereotyped as anti-unoriginalism, growing tired of movies parading as large commercial enterprises, and tight with their own money. Thus, it’s refreshing to see a studio slap a gift horse in the mouth. They’ve just denied a bloated film concept that abuses the name it trades off of while spelling massive pay days for its director, producer and star.

If they said no to that, what will Disney say yes to? If The Formula was finally refused, will Disney look to replace it with something else? If so, what would that be?

No matter what, this move has called into question the supremacy of the gargantuan blockbuster, the inevitability of its creation, and the naturalism of its dominance. The lack of box office success for less expensive (read: $170m budgeted) movies like Tron Legacy was a message, and it looks as though at least one studio has heard it loudly and clearly, and is making an effort to wean itself from the addiction.

Any chance they’ll replace it with an original concept and a sensible budget?

Yeah, I didn’t think so either.

According to the LA Times, Congressman Peter King of the great state of New York is urging the CIA and the Department of Defense to take a look into Kathryn Bigelow‘s forthcoming, still-untitled movie about killing Osama Bin Laden. Apparently, Mr. King thinks the government should have script approval.

Why is he calling for such a probe? It’s not readily obvious that he has any evidence to warrant it, but the movie deals with very sensitive subject matter, and that, for Mr. King, seems to be reason enough. On the one hand, it’s absolutely important that the movie not contain any classified secret or top secret information on how the raid was carried out, but on the other, what Mr. King is insinuating is that government officials and CIA members that cooperated with the production may have given out secret information.

“I’m very concerned that any sensitive information could be disclosed in a movie,” King told the Times. “The procedures and operations that we used in this raid are very likely what we’ll use in other raids. There’s no way a director would know what could be tipping off the enemy.”

Bigelow might be unaware of what sort of information is more sensitive, but certainly the CIA isn’t. Is King saying that the CIA would have knowingly or unwittingly given a film director knowledge that requires a security clearance? That seems ludicrous.

“Ridiculous” was the word White House spokesperson Jay Carney used when giving a press statement. “When people, including you, in this room, are working on articles, books, documentaries or movies that involve the president, ask to speak to administration officials, we do our best to accommodate them to make sure the facts are correct,” Carney said. “That is hardly a novel approach to the media. We do not discuss classified information. And I would hope that as we face the continued threat from terrorism, the House Committee on Homeland Security would have more important topics to discuss than a movie.”

According to the New York Daily News, King cited reports that writer Mark Boal was allowed into a ceremony honoring SEAL Team Six, but if he has other information, he’s not stating it just yet.

As it stands, if King is genuine in his reasoning for wanting this probe, it’s because he believes that someone in the CIA leaked information. It’s as simple as that. If he didn’t believe that, why would he want a probe? If he has a substantially concrete reason to believe that, he should say so, or call off his suggestion of an investigation. Either that, or he should make it publicly known his real reasoning for wanting to hassle a filmmaker.

Because the bottom line of all of this is that the government doesn’t get to antagonize artists just because they feel like it. Boal and Bigelow might be working on something directly related to secret information, but probing into that production without any concrete evidence would mean the government could theoretically probe into any production. Maybe that should have happened to The Smurfs, but it definitely shouldn’t happen to any other movies.

It’s downright Un-American.

As reported by Politico, King responded to the White House’s statement, saying, “What he said was nonsense — there has been so much classified information released over the last 90 days” since bin Laden was killed in a raid on his Pakistan compound.

That’s still vague considering the profound nature of King’s accusation. He also expressed concerns that the movie was going to come out close to election time, but at this time it’s unclear as to whether the CIA will launch an investigation or what that would even look like. If they do, it could grandly affect Bigelow’s production and Sony’s schedule.

Still, it might be wise here for the government to police itself here and seek cooperation from Bigelow and company. To that end, Boal and Bigelow have responded to the claims (and the editorial from Maureen Dowd claiming this film is one big PR ploy for President Obama) by saying this:

“Our upcoming film project about the decade long pursuit of bin Laden has been in the works for many years and integrates the collective efforts of three administrations, including those of Presidents Clinton, Bush, and Obama, as well as the cooperative strategies and implementation by the Department of Defense and the Central Intelligence Agency. Indeed, the dangerous work of finding the world’s most wanted man was carried out by individuals in the military and intelligence communities who put their lives at risk for the greater good without regard for political affiliation. This was an American triumph, both heroic and non-partisan, and there is no basis to suggest that our film will represent this enormous victory otherwise.”

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the political edge of this story (which will get batted back and forth forever and ever and ever), but the real question here is the precedent it might set for filmmaking. If an investigation were launched, it would undoubtedly focus on the Obama administration and the government’s role in cooperating with media, but there could still be manifest effects on the film. They could be asked to come in to testify to explain what they were privy to, and it’s not a difficult leap in logic to see the government postpone the release of the film on legal grounds if they chose to do so. That’s dangerous territory to get into, no matter which side of the political spectrum you find yourself on.

This editorial contains spoilers for Source Code. Consider yourself warned, and consider yourself given another excuse to go see the movie.

You’re waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don’t know for sure. But it doesn’t matter. How can it not matter to you where that train will take you?

Because that train is going to explode, killing everyone on it.

In fact, that train has already exploded, but you’re waiting to board it in a very peculiar way. You’re Colter Stevens from Source Code, and you have a ticket in your pocket because a man who was on the train earlier in the day (when it blew sky high) has a ticket in his pocket. Your mind is inside the short term memory of a dead man.

Source Code plays around with identity philosophy in at least three key ways, and it seems directly influenced by the story of a man who loses his head in order to play hero. Hold on tight to your brain, and let’s try to find Colter.

Where Am I?

In Daniel Dennett‘s usual conversational tone, he takes his essay “Where Am I?” as an excuse to relate a top secret story about the time the government asked him to go on the dangerous mission of retrieving a nuclear warhead that’s accidentally (oops!) been stuck in the ground somewhere below Tulsa, Oklahoma. In order to maintain perfect safety on this suicide mission, Dennet’s brain is removed from his body, placed in a vat, and hooked up with some serious, wireless hardware. He now has a detachable brain that sits safely in the vat while he ventures down to save the day (to his body’s certain doom).

Dennett is instantly confused when he sees his brain in the vat because he thinks of himself as staring at his own brain (instead of thinking of himself as floating in a vat, staring at his body). To alleviate confusion, he names his brain Yorick and his body Hamlet.

As an audience, we should be similarly confused about Colter Stevens because he’s also just a brain (and half a body) in a chamber. Unlike Dennett’s pretend foray into national security, Stevens will never come face to face with his brain because 1) his brain (Yorick) and remaining body haven’t been separated and 2) his active body (Hamlet) seems to be in another plane of existence. Two other planes of existence in fact.

His brain’s electrical impulses have been embedded into a program that allows him to feel like he’s in a metal communication box. When he’s on the mission, those impulses are embedded into the short term memory of another person.

So where is Stevens? Is he cut off at the rib cage in a metal box? Is he full aware in his communication pod? Is he on a train perpetually about to explode? At the end of the film, is he truly in a different version of our world where the train never exploded and he has taken over the life of Sean Fentress?

If you asked to point to Colter Stevens, it would be a little tough.

Here I Am

There are three quick and dirty realities that could have sprung up from the science being fictionalized in Duncan Jones’s film.

1. Colter Stevens is now a complete new person.
2. Colter Stevens is Colter Stevens even if he doesn’t look like it.
3. Colter Stevens is a non-existent entity.

It’s tempting to choose the first option because it gets rid of a ton of questions regarding where Colter and his permanent five o’clock shadow are hiding. If the being we watch throughout the movie isn’t actually Colter (let’s call him Ersatz Colter for fun), then the initial question is pointless. Unfortunately, a giant host of new problems arises. Specifically – if this isn’t Colter Stevens, how does he have the memories, resemblance and personality of Colter Stevens? To put it simply: if that’s not Colter Stevens, why does he act and appear so much like Colter Stevens?

That’s where the second option comes into play. Let’s admit that our hero is still our hero even though he’s been transplanted into a different body (which happens to be the body projected by the sense memory of a dead man). It’s like The Change-Up. Jason Bateman is still Jason Bateman, even though he looks like Ryan Reynolds.

The only problem with this is that it doesn’t make any sense. It’s simple enough to say that Stevens is still himself, successfully transplanted from one decaying human casing into another, but it’s difficult to apply this to the common sense test. If someone looked at Sean Fentress (at the end of the film), they would have thought he was Sean Fentress. In fact, that’s exactly what Christina does. She believes that this man she’s flirted with for a while, whom she’s on the cusp of starting a relationship with, has grown a pair and taken some initiative. What she doesn’t know is that there’s another man lurking around in Sean’s skin. Sean Fentress is literally a new man.

So maybe Colter is Colter, but he’s just very good at pretending to be Sean. On the other hand, we see that even in this strange, possibly parallel universe, Colter Stevens’s body still remains in the scientific facility where they’re desperate to find an application for their new toy. If Sean Fentress were to walk into the room and see Colter Steven’s body, we’d be in real trouble all over again.

It would be a situation where Sean Fentress knew he was Colter Stevens, even though Colter Stevens was right in front of him. This gets at the heart of whether or not we define a person by their physical attributes or something beyond them. We can claim that an essence of sorts has been taken from Colter and placed into the body of Sean (which explains why Sean is acting so damned much like Colter), but it still causes some problems that don’t make sense logically (especially if you’re about to embark on a relationship with Colter/Sean).

The third is an extreme position, but it makes the most sense at the basic level. Sean Fentress is dead. So is Colter Stevens. Neither of them exist anymore. Colter Stevens is Schrodinger’s Human. He’s certainly not alive, but yet we watch him take down a terrorist and walk around in a disturbingly life-like way. This trait of being non-existent (or somewhere between existence) is most apparent when he jumps into that parallel dimension (or causes its existence). At that moment, there are at least three Colters: Colter A is the body on the slab, Colter B is the mind that they can send into someone else’s memory, Colter C is the one hanging out in Sean Fentress and preparing for a sexy night with Christina.

What would happen if they torched Colter A? Colter B would be toast, but is Colter C somehow safe because he’s hidden inside Sean Fentress? Or would Sean Fentress drop dead on the spot?

In Dennett’s piece, he humorously sets up a situation where he’s created a switch that he can flip to allow his other self to take over (after a personality-copying disaster of Laurel and Hardy-esque proportions). If they tossed Colter A into a furnace, would Sean Fentress instantly take his body back over? Wouldn’t he be pissed? Is he in there somewhere watching Colter make it to second base with the co-worker he has a crush on?

What Have We Learned?

What we’re dealing with in Source Code is the trouble that comes with body projection. It’s the same problem in The Matrix where a person’s body can be comfortably plugged in on a ship somewhere in the “real world” while a highly, highly realistic version of that body (realistic enough to trick the mind controlling it) is out swimming in a sea of code somewhere. Colter makes the scenario even more confusing by jumping the tracks and switching bodies completely (again, the same problem Jason Bateman has).

The script from Ben Ripley and the subsequent film from Duncan Jones is left purposefully nebulous. It’s soft science fiction, after all. Thus, we won’t ever have any real answers to these questions. At the end of the train ride, it’s still impossible to point to Colter Stevens and know for sure that it’s him (and only him).

What other problems or solutions can you come up with?

San Diego Comic-Con is a busy place. No one can cover everything, or even a significant portion of everything. Judgement calls must be made, like sleeping through panels or buying cool toys instead of waiting in line at Hall H. Or you know, just covering A instead of B.

I found myself in that situation when it came time for the Sony panel that featured a lot of cool things, including The Amazing Spider-Man and Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. Instead of suffering though the line at Hall H, which I gladly would have done, I caught up with Spartacus and then went off to see Jason Momoa, the next Conan. Luckily I was able to read all about the Sony panel on Twitter and, well… Shit.

Ghost Rider sounds like something unique. That might not be the best word for it, but it definitely sounds… interesting. No, that’s not the word either. I think what I’m looking for is either “immature” or “fucking stupid.” Not certain yet.

Totally upfront, I did not see the footage. Maybe it is awesome. But it sounds bad. And it makes this post funnier.

What’s got my pants on fire? Well, let’s list the apparent highlights of the footage.

Ghost Rider Will Fuck Your Shit Up

The tagline shown with the footage was “Fucking your shit up in 3D February 2012.” Hey, I’m a fan of fucking shit up, though there is a time and a place for it and it might be February, but where it’s not is probably in the tagline spot of a trailer.

Ghost Rider Has Flaming Indigestion

According to the Shock Til You Drop Twitter feed, Ghost Rider “vomits fire in a man’s face.” Now, maybe this is poetic license and the Spirit of Vengeance just shoots fire at him out of his mouth. That is a normal Ghost Rider thing to do. But if its played for laughs as vomit, well then, that’s just silly.

The Flaming Ghost Jeep

Apparently whenever Ghost Rider switches rides, that ride explodes into flames and becomes a hell vehicle. In one sequence he jumps into a Jeep and it becomes a HellJeep. That makes for good toys, I’ll say and hey – maybe it’s cool. But that also seems… silly.

Real Bones Will Be Broken

The directing duo of Neveldine/Taylor promise that we’ll see actual bones being broken on screen. Like it’s a good thing. I mean, this isn’t another Jackass installment, is it? Why celebrate the fact that someone had their bones snapped while making a fictional movie?

The Spirit of Vengeance Pisses Vengeance

Taking a page from Bumblee in Transformers, Ghost Rider, according to several sources, urinates fire.

I’m a fun and irreverent guy. I don’t give much of a shit about things, but I do take movies seriously – sometimes. Especially if it’s something I like. I’m a fan of the Ghost Rider character and his comics. The first movie sucked. I was excited there’d be a second shot at it. I wasn’t super excited at the choice of Neveldine/Taylor to be in charge, but they are crazy dudes and could potentially make a great Ghost Rider film.

Therein lies the problem- no matter who cool or crazy or silly or fun this movie sounds, it definitely doesn’t sound like a Ghost Rider movie. The Spirit of Vengeance is a crazy character, I mean, he’s a leather wearing flaming skull dude on a motorcycle. That’s crazy! But he’s never really been actively silly. While he’ll gladly roast your insides out, tear your body in half, or kick your face through the cement after doing a burnout on your skull, he’s not the kind of demon who makes vomit jokes and pees fire.

Ghost Rider is terrifying. He is the Spirit of Mother Fucking Vengeance. He is every Halloween nightmare you’ve ever had and he’s coming to take your soul to hell for what you’ve done. What I really would have liked to hear in regards to this film was that it was a serious and terrifying action movie, not a parade of bodily functions.

In a few hours, it won’t matter anymore. At least that’s the hope. In a few days, the world of movie punditry will have moved on to Shield-wielding Americans and broody kids with wands. We won’t even remember why we were so worked up in the first place. But for the moment, the noise around Michael Bay and the Transformers franchise is at an all-time high. You’d think that we’d be talking about the merits (or lack thereof) of the latest entry, Transformers: Dark of the Moon, or the legacy-to-be of one of the most successful film franchises of the modern era. No, there’s little talk about the trilogy’s place. We still can’t get over the fact that Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen broke our critical hearts. After 2007′s Transformers earned Michael Bay his second most critically acclaimed film (57% on Rotten Tomatoes), the second film was trounced by the media. 20% Rotten, a big sweaty mess of excess. You know the story. We’ve been talking about it ever since. And I’m here today to tell you, dear friends, that it’s time to let it go.

An emotional breakthrough of this scale is going to take some perspective. It’s disheartening to see so much lingering concern in the media, despite the publicity blitzkrieg put on by the film’s stars and director. Even before a third film went into production, the likes of Bay and Shia LaBeouf were admitting that Transformers 2 was not their finest moment. Recently, at the junket for Dark of the Moon, a smarmy journalist asked Bay “if he was afraid the new film would be another poorly reviewed mess.”

“Your comment is a little insulting to the artists who worked on this,” Bay fired back. “The movie did make a lot of money. I admit it’s not one of my better films. It’s by far not the worst film ever made; that’s just false.” And he’s right. Even though Revenge of the Fallen earned a 20% rating from critics on Rotten Tomatoes, it’s not the worst film ever. It’s not even Bay’s worst film by any means, if we’re counting the horror that was Pearl Harbor. If we pause for a moment, lets acknowledge something special that’s happening — a big time, ego-maniacal director like Michael Bay admiting that his movie wasn’t that good. The rules of overblown ego don’t allow for such things. It shows a level of self-awareness and maturity not associated previously with Bay.

“We made some mistakes,” he told Empire Magazine earlier this year. And he’s right, mistakes were made. While Revenge of the Fallen didn’t lose any of the visual spectacle established in the first film, it lost almost all of the charm. From racist stereotype-bots to giant robot testicles, Revenge got a lot of things wrong. And while critics (including the ones on this very site) were quick to point out every single one of the mistakes, the other reason we’re going to let this one go is because all of those mistakes seem to have fallen on deaf ears with actual moviegoers. Next to the 20% critics rating on Rotten Tomatoes, we find another interesting statistic: 3.8 million users of the Flixter service rated Revenge, 76% of them giving it a positive rating. They also collectively gave Paramount and Dreamworks $836 million dollars in worldwide box office receipts. As Bay explains, a “movie doesn’t make $835 million being the worst film.” Sure, bad movies can make money. But you don’t get that much money without getting a few repeat customers.

The final reason to simply let it go: because we can’t allow Revenge of the Fallen to soil the experience we might be about to have with Dark of the Moon. Having not seen the film yet, I’m going out on a limb here. But what if Dark of the Moon is as good as some are saying? What if Michael Bay has done as he said and fixed the mistakes that were made the last time around? What if he’s harnessed the power of 3D and delivered the next level of Bayhem? Will we truly be able to enjoy it if we’re still sore from the second film?

Personally, I will be sitting down to see, then subsequently review Transformers: Dark of the Moon this evening. As an unapologetic fan of Bay’s commitment to excess, I’m excited. I’m excited about the hope presented in a situation where a director is listening to fans and critics. He’s a man with something to prove to us, that Revenge of the Fallen was a mistake, but a mistake that can be corrected with this latest film. For two years, Bay has seemed like a man on a mission to show us that he’s better than his last film. And I find that to be a fascinating proposition, the result of which is far more interesting than “just another movie about giant robots.” But it shouldn’t be the entire equation. Because while mistakes have been made, the magical element of this entire situation is that mistakes were acknowledged. And for that, the team behind Transformers deserves some credit. And in the least, they deserve us to walk in to Dark of the Moon hopeful that we’re about to have a good time, not overwhelmed by the cynicism left over from a film released two years ago. For me, there’s reason only for optimism at this point. Perhaps finally Michael Bay will prove to us that his Transformers franchise can deliver an experience consistent with the ever-escalating expectations of its fans. Or maybe it will be just be a good time, with some “wow” moments. I’d enjoy that, as well.

Green Lantern wasn’t exactly dead as a doornail when it hit the box office – it just didn’t shoot up through the stratosphere the way Warners undoubtedly hoped it would. Now, The Hollywood Reporter is reporting that the studio wants to move forward with the franchise even while admitting their disappointment.

And why not? Despite all the nascent hand-wringing from box office pundits about the movie not making much money, it will more than make its budget and advertising budget back. Why? Because it’s headed to an international box office that will more than take care of its production cost, and it’s got an ace up its sleeve: toy sales and burger tie-ins. We don’t always think about revenue to be made outside the theater, but Green Lantern has bigger, plastic aspirations. Plus, none of this considers home video sales.

But who really cares about all that except executives? The real question is whether or not a new story will help fans, and the answer is yes.

First, the cons:

• Financial risk for the studio. Yawn.
• Another hohum movie with second act problems that no one is really clamoring for.

There may be only one pro, but it trumps any con out there:

• Another shot at getting it right.

Fire Blake Lively. Get a director that has a better sense of humor. Get a script written by a single person (or a writing team that works together). Stop being afraid of creating something awesome with heart. Forget about making a movie by committee and hoping it doesn’t turn into a lumbering Frankenstein’s monster.

Assemble a team and give them what they need to make magic. Then, let it happen. Warners seems to do that with every other property except the ones they need to work the most. Why? Because it’s human nature to smother something that important.

Green Lantern 2 would be a welcome fixture in theaters, at least for me, because it would be an opportunity to really see the character soar. We didn’t get it the first time around, but if Warners wants to take a second go at it, I’ll be waiting in line with my fingers crossed.

What do you think?

The recent revelation that Chris Columbus will be producing a US-based, English-language remake of Troll Hunter was met with everything from mild irritation to outright derision. A typical report of the news included 1) a statement that the original is great/awesome 2) a question of whether this really needed a remake 3) a comment that Hollywood was craven and unoriginal and, for a select few pieces, 4) swear words.

My own take was fairly neutral (much like my reaction to Andre Ovredal‘s film), which prompted at least half an email asking me why I was giving this one a pass after years of making up clever insults at the expense of anyone attempting a remake.

After some soul-searching, it was clear that I had either made peace with the recent glut of remakes or been beaten into submission by it. Either way, I’m tired of complaining about remakes, and here’s why.

As early as Spring of 2010, the major studios had at least 75 television and film remakes in development. Some have come to pass, some haven’t, some still might survive. It’s a large number considering that there’s just north of 300 movies made every year. There’s no doubt that a trend is crushing audiences, but not all of those remakes will get made despite being reported. The bad news is that it feels like there are more remakes than there are. The good news is that there are fewer remakes than it feels.

Because, after all, remakes are a bad thing, right?

Remakes Aren’t The End of the World

Amongst the perceived rubble of bad remakes, there are also a solid number of good ones and a shocking handful of brilliant must-sees. Some, like Troll Hunter, are stolen from their ancestral homes (with fans kicking and screaming) to the United States. The Departed, The Ring, The Magnificent Seven and A Fistful of Dollars come to mind immediately. The Man Who Knew Too Much makes the list if we’re counting directors remaking their own previously British material. Are we counting those? Let’s do it. Why not.

Truly good domestic remakes are easy to spot, too. The Thing, A Star is Born, Scarface, The Fly, Ocean’s 11, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Father of the Bride. The problem seems to be that we don’t always readily recognize movies we love as remakes while decrying an apparent mountain of them currently. There’s no need to cite numbers here, because you can see for yourself by scoping a list of movies released last year and counting the comparatively small number of remakes. There just aren’t as many as it seems.

Even though there are a healthy amount of good remakes (maybe even nearing the amount of bad ones), it wasn’t until Let Me In (another horror hybrid taken from a European country) that my eyes were open to the new trend’s potential. Unlike The Ring, which seemed to come out of nowhere, Let Me In was a remake of a critically acclaimed film that had found a happy home amongst cinephiles. The cries of outrage were incredibly loud, and Matt Reeves silenced almost all of them with an insanely capable movie. The lesson? It’s easy to defecate all over the idea of a foreign remake, but we might just be better served asking whether (and how) it might actually be good.

Plus, there’s the case that…

Complaining is Old and Easy

We started the “Unnecessary Remakes” tag over two years ago, and it was hardly when the trend was beginning to rear its head. We’re at least three years into the new remake phase, and yet most reactions seem to be the same old song sung over and over. It seems silly. At this point, the studios are steadily on track with the remakes they plan on putting into production, and the same Greek chorus of film bloggers and fans repeating the knee-jerk mantra that all remakes are bad just doesn’t resonate.

Plus, it’s making us mean. Over at Bad Ass Digest, Devin Faraci went as far as to call the producers of the (possibly) forthcoming Troll Hunter remake “assholes” and “douchebags.” It’s that kind of uninspired, seething ad hominem attack that appears like a sharp shout into thin air (or into an echo chamber). Is Chris Columbus really an “asshole” for wanting to remake a foreign movie? Maybe for making I Love You, Beth Cooper, but for wanting to direct an adventure featuring giant trolls? For remaking a foreign film? Does that mean the directors of the great remakes listed above are all assholes?

Even the director, Andre Ovredal, said it would be fun to see a US remake of his movie. But why! Doesn’t he know his artistic labor will be bent over a spinning globe and raped repeatedly by money-grubbing assholes?

Maybe it’s because he’ll get money out of the deal, more name recognition inside the offices that matter to his career, more attention will be drawn to the movie he made, and, gasp, an entertaining film could be the result. It raises an eyebrow and a question: if the director doesn’t care, why should we?

A few remakes even improved upon their progenitors, but instead of hoping for greatness, some can’t see anything but a pile of feces spitting more feces at them. That cynical nature has worn thin.

If Chris Columbus was burning every copy of the original Troll Hunter and going door to door to erase it off hard drives and confiscate regional DVDs, then he’d be an asshole. He’d also have a ton of free time and resources. As it stands, he’s just a producer who sees something in a story that he wants to retell.

But isn’t he helping to destroy creativity?

Remakes Aren’t Destroying Creativity

There’s a misconception that remaking movies at a grand scale is somehow killing creativity. There’s nothing in the rule book that says a remake can’t be creative, just like there’s no rule stating that an original film has to be good (or all that creative). Studio executives forcing remakes on the world shouldn’t be mutually exclusive with quality or ingenuity, and several recent films have proven that.

This may sound like defeatism after fighting the good fight, but even highly talented directors are accepting a reheated fate – especially one that focuses on foreign films. David Fincher is remaking an insanely popular film in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (and that promises to be not one, but three remakes). Ben Affleck (a man with a solid directing resume so far) has just signed on to remake the French film Tell No One. Good people are signing on for remakes. Why are we still blindly protesting them?

More so than that, we often think about originality and creativity within the context of what we know or believe is widely known. We’re pretty much forced to by our brains (the same thing that forces us to eat just one more piece of fried chicken on just one more waffle). Within the world of movie writing, Troll Hunter is a well-known, well-respected foreign flick. To the greater movie-going populace, Troll Hunter is nothing because they’ve never heard the phrase. Is it that new, incredibly narrow collector’s show on A&E that follows people trying to find neon-haired dolls? Is it Dog the Bounty Hunter tracking down cynical shit-stirrers on the internet? No, but both sound like quality programming.

In that sense, anyone remaking any lesser-known foreign film will be bringing something new to an audience that doesn’t know about it. There aren’t many movies about giant trolls in American cinema, so there’s plenty of room for creativity to flourish there. While it’s easy to denounce a remake in order to flaunt knowledge of the obscure, that sort of elitism is boring and doesn’t take into account the potential that remakes have.

One reason we ignore that potential is that there are genuine issues beyond the emotionalism of seeing a movie we like or love redone. That emotion can be strong, especially since a remake stinks of the implication that the original wasn’t done well enough, but sometimes there are practical reasons to fear a work of art being redone. A remake of Big Man Japan was recently announced, and it seems completely moronic to create it in our own American image. Like anything else, there is a limit to reasonable expectations, and when that line is crossed, alarms should go off. Sometimes a foreign film is too embedded in its local culture to be of any use to an American filmmaker.

On that front, I had a great conversation with Brad McHargue (whose last name is made for this stuff) about whether Troll Hunter could be culturally relevant if remade here. After all, there are huge differences between troll culture in Norway and the lack of troll culture here. We ultimately disagreed (he thinks all magic is lost in a remake), but his response is one that sees a genuine problem in adapting foreign material, a hurdle for the producers to clear. When those types of obstacles face a production, it’s creativity that will be their savior or a lack of it that will be their downfall.

Each individual case may create reasons to be skeptical or dismissive – like if Uwe Boll announced that he was remaking The Godfather – but decrying remakes as a whole seems about as wrong as making someone imagine a world where Uwe Boll was remaking The Godfather. It’s time for film fans to collectively get over their fear of remakes, recognize that the sky isn’t falling down, and know that if it does, someone will be along shortly to repaint it.

What say you?

Editor’s Note: This article contains words that often arrange themselves into SPOILERS and should not be read by anyone.

Cole Abiaus was a bit too kind in his full review of Super 8 and glossed over the disaster that is the film’s third act, but it’s still worth a read for everything he got right, so check it out here. As a response to the review and to start a discussion on some of the film’s secrets, Robert Fure and Rob Hunter have compiled the list below of the things they liked and the things they didn’t. Give it a read and then let us know what you thought of the movie below.

Things We Liked

4. The Kids

The movie has already been compared to The Goonies and The Monster Squad in regard to its portrayal of a tight group of friends embroiled in an adventure, but this is the first to really capture kids that I knew. The gleefully destructive Cary, the creative but shy Charles, the big but in many ways weakest Martin, the unnecessary fifth wheel Preston… I knew these kids and I miss them, and much of Super 8 brings a smile to my face as it beautifully captures those perfect few years of my childhood. [Hunter]

3. They Party Like It’s 1979 Because It Is

There really isn’t much of a reason to set the film in 1979 other than the Pee-Wee’s Secret Word NOSTALGIA, which has been mentioned in 99.9% of all reviews of this film. By setting it in the past, it automatically appeals to your memories of “Hey, I remember when things weren’t like they were today!” And you know what – it might be a sucker move, but it worked. In a real world full of cell phones, apps, computers, CCTVs, and a billion other digital headaches, it’s not too terrible to be reminded of pay phones and playing outside. [Fure]

2. Joe And Alice

As he does with the usual suspects above, Joe forms a believable relationship with Alice that truly feels like an honest first crush. Both have home issues that the actors (Joel Courtney and Elle Fanning) imbue with real emotion, but they really come alive in each other’s presence. They’re also the two best characters individually. Strong, fleshed out, and given real depth, these two could lead an entire film with or without an alien plot-line. [Hunter]

1. The Case

The end credits feature Charles’s full super 8 zombie movie, The Case, and it’s great fun. And Abrams deserves credit for not tossing in a lens flare or two. [Hunter]

Things We Didn’t Like

8. Lens Flares

We know complaining about lens flares in a J.J. Abrams film is like complaining about extended dialogue scenes in a Quentin Tarantino movie or stupidity in a Michael Bay flick, but goddamn they are everywhere. Sometimes even when there’s nothing in the scene to cast light. [Fure/Hunter]

7. Curler Girl’s Death

Joe descends into the lair to rescue Alice and discovers she isn’t the only one left alive when a young woman in curlers pops up with a funny line. Then she’s killed and no one seems to give a shit. There’s a good chance she was someone’s mom too, but she exists solely for a laugh and a thrill. [Hunter]

6. Alien Is Not A Sympathetic Character

The alien kills innocent people, so why exactly should we give a flying fuck whether or not he makes it home alive? Sure Nelec the Army dude is an ass and deserved to die, but the sheriff and the lady in the curlers weren’t threatening the creature at all which makes the alien a murdering bastard. [Hunter]

5. Train Crash

First, why would a smart guy opt for this method of rescue? It seems bound to fail and supremely reckless, not to mention he most likely murdered a couple of train operators. Second – why would a smart guy think a small pick-up truck could derail a train and not be disintegrated. Because, you know, the truck would be disintegrated by that impact. Third – this isn’t Star Trek, what was this train made of, gunpowder and dynamite? With so many explosions, why didn’t at least one kid have his internal organs turned to pudding? [Fure]

4. Town As War Zone

What exactly was the deal with this whole scene? Tanks, rocket launchers, machine guns all firing uncontrollably because of the alien’s activity (presumably), but no one thought to take the key out of the ignition? Or stop loading tank shells and magazines? And why were they even there with those weapons when they should have already known they’d be useless against the creature? The whole scene is loud, messy, and unnecessary. [Hunter]

3. Alien’s Dick Move

After touching Joe, the alien knows his pain and of his recent loss, but still takes the kids last memento of his mother to make a useless part of his ship when he could have taken another Oldsmobile, a wrist watch, or any of the one hundred thousand other pieces of metal laying around. [Fure]

2. Sometimes Bad Things Happen To Good Aliens

Really? The heartfelt end speech can be summed up with a platitude straight out of a self-help book? The emotional conclusion here isn’t earned by the kid or the alien. Especially the alien. Because he’s still a dick. [Hunter]

1. Louis Dainard’s Unforgivable Crime

Was calling off work. The beginning makes it seem so heavy — its as if he dropped a girder on the mother, smashing her into bloody bits, but all he really did was call off work? Why would that make two families hate each other? Would the Sheriff still hate him if he had a cold that day? [Fure]

What did you like or dislike about Super 8?