The Triumph of the Tube

The Fugitive and The Coneheads will hit theaters very soon. Also barreling down the production pipeline is The Addams Family sequel and an expensive, live-action version of The Flintstones (produced by Steven Spielberg’s company, no less). Right behind them are films of The Beverly Hillbillies, The Brady Bunch and Car 54, Where Are You.

Surrender, Dorothy! The wicked witch of the little box has won. TV no longer threatens Hollywood – it owns the place.

There was a time when the dividing line between film and television was almost as rigid – and certainly more hostile – than the border between the free world and the Eastern Bloc. When TV first appeared, many in the film industry viewed it as a mere novelty. Radio with pictures, as Fred Allen dubbed it. But as the tube’s influence began to spread faster than a wild fire in the Hollywood hills, many studio executives viewed the box as a threat to the American way of life.

They were almost right. It was a threat to their way of life.

Studio bosses loathed the box, but they were anxious to exploit it financially. They began dumping butchered versions of old movies onto the airwaves with the greedy indifference of a junk dealer. A few popular TV shows of the 1950s – such as Dragnet and The Line Up – were quickly churned out as “B” features.

But there was a dividing line. A few TV directors – such as John Frankenheimer and Arthur Penn – were able to make successful transitions to the big screen. Others, like Robert Altman and Sam Peckinpah, were growing intensely restless with their televised servitude.

The situation was even worse for actors. To appear on television was a little like dying – except its effect was more lasting. There were film stars and there were mere TV players. Never would the twain meet.

That is, not until Clint Eastwood blasted his way from the box to the screen. When CBS canceled the Rawhide series in the early ‘60s, Eastwood became the town’s youngest has-been. He actually had to choose between truck driving and the lead in a low-budget Italian Western. With A Fistful of Dollars, Eastwood became the first major star to mutate out of the cathode-ray prison.

The message was clear. TV could be good for your career.

But the turning point came in 1979. The enormous success of Star Wars sent Hollywood into a sci-fi frenzy. Like everyone else, Paramount was looking to cash in. Unlike everyone else, they already had ownership of an old sci-fi series that was being redeveloped as a sequel program. What started out as Star Trek II for television suddenly became Star Trek – the Motion Picture.

The floodgates were opened. Like William Shatner’s toupees, TV began its relentless movement across the theater screen. With its prepackaged concepts – and an audience preconditioned by its pervasiveness – television took control of cinema.

There is simply no way to stop it.

Charlie’s Angels – The Movie is bound to be next.

(Note: At the time this was published, I thought I was joking. Instead, I became a prophet for Drew Barrymore.)