Film Fund-amentals: Changing Culture

First published June 13, 2014.

Young people don’t know nuthin’.

Gee, I feel so much better having said that. Doesn’t mean anything, but it is sweet music to these old ears. Especially after going through the Empire magazine list of the 301 greatest films. This list was voted on by their readers and has become the subject of widespread pro and con debate.

Of course, this list is pretty meaningless. In truth, most of these lists are without merit except for the way they represent a specific marker at an exact moment of time. Such lists also say more about the people voting than they do about the subject. This is just a fact, whether it is the Empire lineup or the most recent critics’ vote at Sight & Sound. Sure, Sight & Sound has a lot more prestige thanks to its sponsor, the British Film Institute. But the point stays the same.

Professionally, I am inclined to take more seriously the Sight & Sound ranking. But in certain ways, the Empire list is infinitely more provocative. Oh sure, their list mostly represents the mindset of a large pack of mostly young, predominately male, fan-boy readers. In other words, the core demographic market that modern Hollywood is always chasing after. They may not be the average viewer, but they certainly represent a sizable chunk of the market.

But the list also represents a good measurement of the radical shift in film culture that has taken place over the past thirty years. The easy way to explain this is to completely backhand everyone involved on the grounds that they are totally lacking in any sense of film history and/or aesthetics.

Unfortunately, that isn’t exactly true. The issue is far more complex.

At first glance, the Empire lineup strongly suggests that George Lucas, Peter Jackson, and Quentin Tarantino are the three greatest filmmakers to ever live. Also, it appears that the cinema has only been around for about forty years, the first twenty of which were seemingly weak and lackluster. With the exception of The 400 Blows and À bout de souffle, the French New Wave never existed. The New German Cinema? Never heard of it.

Ironically, some old guard classic titles such as M, Rules of the Game, and Bicycle Thieves are included, though at the bottom of the list. Likewise, certain major entries from the longer version of the Sight & Sound roster make the grade, such as The Searchers and Rio Bravo (though I must add that I have always preferred El Dorado to Rio Bravo—I know, they are basically the same movie but there is a difference).

But the most surprising entry is item number 300, Andrei Rublev. Yes, this is Andrei Tarkovsky’s masterpiece (best seen in its original 205-minute version). No, you do not need to be Russian to watch this film, but it really helps. The movie is a complex, visionary, poetic, and intensely mystical and violent contemplation on the meaning of the Russian soul and its history. It stands in virtual opposition to everything found in contemporary mainstream cinema.

Which suggests that the list is not simply the result of feverish fan-boy dreams (in which cinematic art is judged by the explosions and the special effects). Sure, a lot of the list plays that way, but something more is going on. Some of it reflects the increasingly ahistorical context of the digital revolution. No longer is the past simply a foreign country. It is virtually an alien planet from which we occasionally receive murky reports. The past is also primarily in black and white, a format with which a young generation of filmgoers are less than thrilled.

Likewise, the whole language and structure of film has changed. It’s not the case that contemporary movies are superior (they are not). Nor are they more complex (they are actually simpler). But the whole sense of structure and presentation is distinctly, even overwhelmingly, different. The reasons are many and would take a book to truly explore, but it could be argued that this is a shift almost as radical as the change from Middle to Early Modern English. Modern film viewers are operating with a whole different sense of cinematic vocabulary.

Add to this the extreme dominance of the corporate mediated image. Contemporary movies (just like much of contemporary pop music) are produced, packaged, and handled as a product in a manner remarkably similar to Coca-Cola. This is most self-evident in the dominance of franchise movies in the mainstream film industry. But the effect spills out in every direction.

The radical changes in production and distribution can be found in editing, visual structure and presentation, as well as character structure and pacing. The average viewer attention span has decreased, while dramatic structure and characterization have arguably grown simpler (this point is admittedly more subjective and harder to quantify for purposes of a serious study).

As individual components, each change could be seen as minor. But film is not viewed as individual components, and the total synthesis of these changes is resulting in a very different form of both perception and content. In other words, a radically shifting and very different film language.

Which may be why many younger viewers look at old movies in much the same way that we quizzically perceive ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics: as flat, strange, and almost incomprehensible.
As with any artform, the essential nature and quality of film are in the eye of the viewer. So in some respects, this is exactly what old movies are becoming: incomprehensible not just as a matter of perception, but in actuality.

Film Fund-amentals: Does Cinema Still Exist

First published August 20, 2014.

Proclaiming the death of cinema has become a popular pastime. Jean-Luc Godard has been announcing the death of cinema for over 40 years. So he was bound to be right eventually.

Perhaps the time has arrived. Several years ago, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg warned of the end of Hollywood. OK, they were mostly focused on the current Hollywood business model and its possible implosion. Last Spring, Quentin Tarantino produced a stir at Cannes with his death of cinema pronouncement. However, he was mostly complaining about digital projection while having a nostalgic fit on behalf of old-fashioned celluloid. To be honest, Tarantino sounded as if he still used a rotary phone and an old Philco TV set.

Now, with his recent lecture at Pietrasanta in northern Italy, British filmmaker Peter Greenaway gives a much more detailed and provocative argument for the end of cinema. In some ways, Greenaway’s remarks are closer to the Lucas/Spielberg perspective. But he goes much further. It isn’t just the business model that is broken. It’s everything.

Specifically, Greenaway is focused on the greater aesthetic changes taking place due to the digital revolution. The traditional movie theater is fading from its importance. The concept of the screen is changing as the standard movie model is replaced by multiple types of “screens,” from laptops to smart phones. The entire model of production and distribution is evolving into the emerging digital form. The entire process of consuming content and the means of viewing that content are rapidly being transformed, and the traditional concept of cinema is incapable of adapting to these changes. Sure, the old school system has worked (more or less) for over a hundred years, but the very foundation of the Hollywood model is eroding.

With these changes, Greenaway sees the end of what he calls the Four Tyrannies:
• The Tyranny of the Text
• The Tyranny of the Frame
• The Tyranny of the Actor
• The Tyranny of the Camera

I must admit that at this point, Greenaway starts to sound a wee bit like a Jacobin lecturing in the rubble of the Bastille. However, he is hitting on four of the biggest problems in the structure of the commercial cinema.

The Text: Film is a visual art form, but for most of its history, it has been bound to the text. In most forms of traditional cinema, the screenplay is considered an absolute in production. Many movies are adaptations of books or plays. Lots of films have way too much dialogue. To an overwhelming degree, movies are trapped into expository narrative structures, and the filmmakers forget that they are supposed to be a visual form.

Admittedly, this is a tad ironic coming from Greenaway, since many of his own movies (like The Falls and A Zed and Two Noughts) have been, at least partially, based upon extended word plays. But he is also correct. The visual nature of cinema has often been sidelined by its narrative function, reducing film to something vaguely resembling Classics Illustrated Comics. For Greenaway, the evolution of digital image making is potentially breaking away from this text-dominated structure.

The Frame: Yes, the movie frame is an artifact that does not represent the actual way we perceive in nature. At this point I should mention (again) that I am basing this on the reports of Greenaway’s lecture in the W(a/o)ndering Film piece. I wasn’t there and the reports become vague on this point. So yes, the movie frame is artificial. So too are all of the new frames being generated by the digital revolution. These new frames do not do away with the artificiality of the classic movie frame, but they nevertheless represent major changes in the concept of frame. I am not exactly sure where Greenaway is going with this one. I suspect he is looking toward the development of holographic and virtual reality systems.

The Actor: “Cinema does not exist to be a playground for Johnny Depp.” I am half guessing that Greenaway must have paid full price for The Lone Ranger. In many respects, I see the issue of the Actor as being related to the Text – after all, the Text is what the Actor performs. Personally, I don’t have a bone to pick with Johnny Depp (whose career at the moment desperately needs better Text).

The Camera: “A boring mechanical instrument with no intelligence. An image manufacturing process based on mimeses.” Some filmmakers (for example, the Italian Neo-Realists) praise the camera for the very same reasons that Greenaway attacks it. So opinion on this issue seems to be divided. Granted, the seemingly impassive manner in which the camera records reality imposes certain restrictions on the artistic process. Ironically, this has been the very foundation for certain forms of artistic expression (for example, the entire career of Roberto Rossellini).

Just as Greenaway appears to be seeking a type of cinema totally freed from the Frame, he is also looking for freedom from mechanical reproduction. The only thing I can think of that would truly fulfill this proposal would be a form of virtual reality system using computer-generated processes for the creation of images: a complete, beginning-to-end digital process that bypasses any and all forms of camera and living performer and is directly transmitted to the audience by either worn apparatus (headgear and/or eyeglasses) or some form of direct transmission into the brain’s neural pathways.
OK, from what I understand that isn’t exactly what Greenaway is planning for his own films. But that is where he is going, whether he realizes that or not. That is also an important element in current research and development and likely will become feasible very soon.

Which is why I strongly recommend checking out the numerous reports on Greenaway’s presentation. It is about the future. The very immediate future.

Film Fund-amentals: What’s Wrong with Indie Filmmaking

First published August 25, 2014.

Over and over again, the question keeps recurring. What’s wrong with indie filmmaking? Depending upon which commentary you read, the answer is: Everything.

OK, maybe not everything. Mostly just issues related to finance, production, and distribution. Also some questions about indie filmmakers themselves in regard to their perceived immaturity, narcissistic behavior, and general inability to listen to their elders. I have noticed a generational issue in some of these blog pieces.

Some recent articles are actually well thought out and are must reads. For example, David K. Greenwald’s piece on “Why Filmmakers Fail” is an essential bit of straight talk for the indie trade, especially item 2 on Greenwald’s list (“FAILURE TO COLLABORATE”).

Occasionally, some of these articles are instructive. Elliot Grove’s list of the 16 Reasons Screenwriters and Film-makers Fail offers a good basic checklist of common mistakes. I especially like items 14 and 15 on his list. Yes, they are the same: “They don’t consider other opinions.” This is good solid advice that any number of us have trouble following. I know I do. I am a bit weak on that collaborative thing as well.


Quite a few recent articles have pounded on the concept that there are way too many low-budget indie movies out there and something has to be done to stop other indie filmmakers from flooding the market. I have noticed that the filmmakers who are most adamant about this perceived crisis don’t seem very interested in taking the lead in correcting this problem. But they definitely hope that those other filmmakers will step up to the plate and choke. The smart-aleck petition started early this year by Kentucker Audley pretty much sums up the real issue.

Admittedly, much of this is about what is wrong with the current state of indie filmmaking: Too many filmmakers who don’t know what they are doing with too many movies and no place to take them and no means for distribution because nobody has enough money to even order a decent cup of coffee and the whole business collapsed a few years ago anyway and life really sucks and the world is doomed. Other than that, it’s pretty OK.

Before we continue, let me explain something. I am a born and bred pessimist. You do not come to me for hopeful visions of the future. Even worse, I like playing the role of Satan. Not so much in the sense of sin but rather in terms of being the devil’s advocate in any argument. Obviously, I am a master at the doom and gloom profession. I am never comfortable at working the other side of the aisle. So it is with some regret that I must say: Chill, baby! Chill!

Yes, there are too many indie filmmakers. Way too many. There are also way too many poets, novelists, painters, composers, and assorted other artists and craftspeople. This is true in virtually any other profession you care to name. Heck, there’s also too many lawyers, doctors, and politicians. The list is a long one. From what I hear, nurses are the only thing we are lacking in.

However, this is an eternal phenomenon. It is part of the competitive nature of any profession. This is also why failure is one of the first and most crucial lessons we all have to learn. In any competitive field, some succeed and many don’t. This is nothing new. It is part of the developmental process.
Granted, the options for distribution for indie filmmakers have sharply diminished. The current state of theatrical distribution is profoundly pathetic. The art house and specialty theater system is, with only a few exceptions, basically dead. The current dominant form, which is the suburban mall multiplex theater, is barely surviving. The entire system is heavily dependent—and controlled—by mainstream Hollywood products. If a multiplex theater has 34 screens, then at least 30 of those screens will be tied up with the same 3 or 4 titles. The remaining screens are roughly the size of a broom closet and are sometimes used as such. I once went to a critics’ screening of an indie movie that was being held in a room that barely could seat 40 people and had a doorway so negligible that the theater staff couldn’t even find it.

However, theatrical distribution for indie movies has always been marginal. The system has always been rigged against the independent filmmaker. For the most part, it is the same as it ever was.
The advocacy system for indie movies is largely gone. By this, I mean curators at major art institutions, film reviewers at major newspapers and other trusted and enthusiastic voices that helped to guide viewers to notable titles. Since I spent the first two decades of my adult career working in these professions, I am extremely aware of the near total-collapse of the system.

But in a sense that’s all right. Let me explain. I just recently read a blog piece by a very distinguish indie movie producer in which this gentleman strongly bemoans the loss of the curator voice in the indie process. All I could think: This guy has spent way too much time living in New York. Basically, it never quite worked the way he thinks. I know because I was working in those zones (outside of New York) and a lot of the film critics and film curators were not doing anything of the sort. The voices for indie cinema have always been few and far between, then and now.

So basically, a lot of the current situation with indie movies is not particularly unique. It has always been a crowded field. There has always had a high rate of failure. The film vaults of America are packed with unknown movies that have never seen the flicker of a public screen.

What is really happening is that all of the old models are depleted. This also includes the so-called new models (which are mostly revamped versions of the old models). Everything is changing.

Virtually nothing we say or think now will be relevant within a few more years.

So yes, there is still hope for film, especially indie films. But it will not be based upon most of the current models either currently in effect or being proposed. Instead, it will be based upon a new model that is just starting to form.

It will be the total synthesis of the digital revolution.

Film Fund-amentals: Film Evolution

First published October 17, 2014.

One of the more “fun” aspects of evolution is its sheer unpredictability. Sure, mathematics and chaos theory provide some analytical parameters, but evolution is mostly wild and woolly.

Which is something to keep in mind when reading recent news reports on the rapid changes taking place in film. A diverse ensemble of voices and messages can be heard on the current and impending future of the art and industry. Some may prove to be profound. Others will be less so. Taken together, the chorus they form is more significant than any individual part.

First up is the recent pronouncement by James Spader that the era of classic films is over. Not just doomed (which is what the headline at Rawstory.com says) but finished. Over! As gone as the sled at the end of Citizen Kane.

Unfortunately, Spader is right. He is basing his comment on the near-complete collapse of available structures for an organized evaluation of film history. Sure, there is a surprising amount of historical material available through online sources like YouTube. But, few people know where to look or what to look for, and only a few care; and mostly it has become a littered room in the digital cellar without any context.

Which also means that most of film history has entered into a dark age.

Here in the US, Hollywood film history is often presented (and only on rare occasions) through brief clips that are done in a mishmash style that resembles a Quentin Tarantino movie. As for the international cinema, virtually nada. These days when I do a presentation to a classroom, I have found it best to really spend time explaining what I mean by such terms as Italian Neo-Realism and French New Wave. Otherwise the students haven’t a clue what I am talking about. And why should they?  The average viewer will be exposed to elements of film-making derived from these movements, but they will rarely (if ever) be exposed to the sources.

Likewise, entire chapters of this history have, for all practical purposes, vanished altogether. Take for example the history of Eastern European cinema from the 1950s to the end of the Cold War. The legendary Polish director Andrzej Wajda summed it up best when he noted, back in the 1990s, that the Eastern cinema had created a vital tradition that was a complete alternative to the American commercial system, such that (he felt) each had filled a vacuum in the other. But, that symbiosis is now gone without so much as a whisper.

I could do a whole lecture on this topic, but suffice it to say that Spader has a point. Most of modern media is about consumption, and it is much like dining at a McDonald’s. The experience is pretty basic, and not much will linger on after the viewing. Heck, most modern movies are forgotten before many viewers even get back to their cars in the parking lot.

So we are now dealing with the post-classical period in film history. Some would call it post-modernist, but that term has been used for everything (including hamburgers) and has lost its value through mindless repetition. Better still, we could call this the neo-dark age. Seriously. We are experiencing a period of ignorance and destruction underlined by various dynamic elements that will evolve into the next stage of enlightened development. After all, the previous dark ages have been the necessary pauses just before the next level of major movement in the history of civilization.

That movement may or may not resemble the digital vision presented by Ynon Kreiz and Maker Studios. Since their recent purchase by Disney, Maker is suppose to be exploring the outer reaches of the emerging digital universe. But in his recent interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Kreiz sounds more like an ad executive making a marketing pitch to investors.

In the interview, Kreiz envisions an emerging digital entertainment format that operates in short, nonlinear bursts (about 4 to 4 ½ minutes). The Millennial Generation (the ideal marketing demographic) is not into watching longer pieces online. Further, they are not into linear narrative. Besides, this provides more opportunity for more ads. OK, he doesn’t mention that last part, but that is his point.

Kreiz’s comments are both interesting and debatable. His focus on keeping digital pieces short skips the issue of viewing situations. For example, a lot of people are often sneaking views at the work place and a short running time is essential to job security. Likewise, increase viewing by way of smart phones and tablets are often done under awkward viewing conditions. But the technology is rapidly heading toward total technical convergence and I suspect that the issue of running time will be changing and responding to many new forms and situations.

Likewise, his comments about nonlinear narrative form is open to various objections. Besides, this debate has been going on for about a century, so why is he acting like he just discovered something new? Either way, there is a wide range of other factors that will play into this development as the digital process evolves. This is part of the unpredictability factor.

But mostly, Kreiz is there for the marketing. The short form and nonlinear structure are key components to modern advertising. Which is a reminder that Disney (and every other major studio) is entering the digital arena for only one thing: They want young consumers. They basically view the digital form as pom-pom girls at a football game.

Which is a pretty narrow approach to a technology that has already demonstrated a vast range of possibilities. The evolution of digital media is already hinting at shapes and forms yet to be explored and the unpredictable nature of the whole thing is bound to throw lots of curve balls into this process before a new media emerges.

Film Fund-amentals：The Rules of Screenwriting

First published December 4, 2014

Screenwriters are the most fortunate people in the film industry. Fortunate， because they have so many other people out there just aching to tell them what to do.

I was recently reminded of that point while reading Danny Rubin’s blog piece How to Write Groundhog Day: 10 Rules for Screenwriters. Since Rubin actually wrote Groundhog Day, he has the advantage of having an honest to goodness major movie under his belt. That is more than some folks handing out advice (keep this in mind when signing up for a screenwriting class).

Rubin’s article has become a must read; and, to be honest, his advice is actually pretty good. The same is true of Colson Whitehead’s article How to Write, printed several years ago in The New York Times. Heck, there are nuggets of wisdom to be found in most of the thousands of articles that turn up in a Google search on the topic. Writers are blessed or what?

The key points to screenwriting (or any form of writing) can be narrowed down to several basic rules. First and foremost is the rule of “Show me, don’t tell me.”  A long time ago I had an editor who practically had this slogan tattooed to his forehead. He said this so often that a few of us were tempted to show him our boots in his butt. However, we also knew that he was right.

This is especially important with a screenplay. Film is a visual medium. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. That may or may not be true, but a clear sense of visual structure can save you at least 900 words.

Interestingly enough, both Rubin and Whitehead have the same Rule 4: Economize. In writing, this means using as few words as possible (the Hemingway model). With a screenplay, this often goes back to the visual aspect. Often the most powerful emotional moments in a movie are based upon facial expressions and visual patterns. Nobody needs extra chatter.

Another piece of advice given on most of these lists is that you should write about what you know. Taken too literally, that could be a problem.  If most first-time screenwriters only wrote about what they knew, we would be buried in scripts about the coming-of-age of recent college graduates. Not exactly an exciting prospect. So yes, you have to extend beyond your own area of immediate experience in certain ways if you want to create any kind of story-line that might be interesting.

However, you need to find an emotional connection to anything you write. It has to mean something to you (and not just a paycheck, though a paycheck is always nice). Personally, I think the emotional commitment is the key to this issue. A lot of the rest can be handled through extensive research. And yes, you’d better learn how to research.

Rubin’s Rule 5 is, know your structure. With any form of writing, the structure is the first step in doing the job. This is perhaps even more critical when writing a screenplay. A screenplay is essentially a blueprint to the movie. A screenplay is not, in itself, a finished project. It is an initial step in a larger process. It will be altered and rewritten numerous times (see Rubin’s first rule) as the project takes shape through the pre-production process. The script will start with a structure, and then be restructured as the process goes along. A good script is a good guide but not the final word.

Film being such a convoluted process, there is a strong emphasis on structure from the very beginning. So outline it, if need be. Play with it. I have heard of some writers who draw visual graphics for their structure. I have never seen these visuals and have no idea how well that works, but sometimes you do whatever it takes.

I am often surprised that one item is often overlooked on these lists: Dialogue. Writing solid, convincing dialogue is not easy. In fact, most first time writers suck at it. They end up writing something that sounds like monologues being carried on at the same time by two different characters. There is little if any resemblance to real conversation between real people actually talking to each other.

So you need to listen to people. A wide range of people. Everybody from cab drivers to business executives and everyone in-between. Study the differences. Note the nuances. Then when you are writing dialogue, read it out loud. Get somebody to read with you. Once you hear it, it should quickly register if it is working or not. If it doesn’t sound right, rewrite it.

So get to work. Read all the rules you can find. Find what works best for you. But also remember Rule 11 on Whitehead’s list: There are no rules.

That is the tricky thing about writing. There are many ways to do it and you simply have to discover what works best for you.

Film Fund-amentals: Marvel Imperative

First published on Nov. 2, 2014

Marvel Studios has just announced phase three of their master plan. Good, because we can now announce that the commercial Hollywood film industry is dead. All we need is for Stan Lee to play the fat lady waiting in the wing for her song.

The problem isn’t necessarily the Marvel Studios plan. So far, it has been a marvelous plan. Beginning with the Phase One production of Iron Man in 2008, they successfully weaved together and nurtured multiple characters and titles in a gradual development steered toward the 2012 blockbuster Marvel’s The Avengers. Phase Two has repeated, and even expanded the approach (and box office) as it heads toward next summer’s release of Avengers: Age of Ultron.

To be honest, Marvel Studios has done an amazing feat based upon a fearless commitment and a masterful sense of long term strategy. These are exceeding rare traits in modern commercial Hollywood. For that I congratulate them. I also have to add a soft but firm “Damn you!” Why? Because Marvel Studios has taken the entire commercial American film industry hostage.
OK, frankly, Hollywood has been begging for someone to take them hostage. Few studio executives are interested in making movies. They are mostly looking to make money by any means possible and are aching for someone to step in with either a fat bank account or a sure fire scheme (preferably both). Everything else is unimportant.

Between Marvel Studios (and their partner in crime, Disney), Warner Bros., and Universal, the film release schedule will be dominated by comic book styled franchises through out the first quarter of the 21^st Century. Warner is attempting to force cook the DC Comics universe through a microwave oven in their attempt to rival the slow roast methods of Marvel. Universal has decided to fall back on a wildly revamped version of their horror line up from the 1930s and 1940s in order to create a comic book-like series of franchises. The tent pole has risen and the freaks and clowns have arrived.
This is when history becomes a ghost at the dinner party. Take for example the Universal plan. The past track record of this old strategy strongly suggests that Universal needs to decide who they will get to play Abbott and Costello .

The American movie industry is no stranger to the rise and fall of various entertainment cycles. Several films in a particular genre become huge hits. Quickly, everyone jumps on the bandwagon. The market rapidly swells. Inevitably, a sense of self-parody takes over. The cycle peaks and then drops into oblivion. The spy film cycle of the mid-1960s is a classic example.
There is already speculation that the super hero cycle has peaked. Sure, recent movies like Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2 have all out-grossed their earlier titles. But other titles have either performed under their original projected estimates (e.g. Man of Steel and The Wolverine) or completely flat-lined (Kick-Ass 2 and R.I.P.D.). It is perhaps too early to truly predict, but this market appears increasingly shaky.

However, a traditional indicator of the post-peak stage is parody. There are only so many serious narrative lines in any genre, and movies wear through this material pretty quickly. So does the audience. People are only interested in a limit amount of dark, edgy, brooding super heroes and it is very likely that Christopher Nolan wore out that market with The Dark Knight trilogy. Part of the huge success of Guardians of the Galaxy was based on the degree to which it didn’t take itself too seriously. But that also means that parody has arrived, and parody is a road sign on the downside of the peak.

Another factor that will destabilize the Marvel Studios master-plan is Warner. It isn’t because Warner knows what they are doing. They don’t. That’s the problem. Warner is attempting to copy the Marvel game plan but they want to skip things like long term development. They think they can magically do the process in just a few movies, as they attempt to jump from Man of Steel to next year’s Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice and then straight into Justice League, Part 1. Warner is also the same company that thought Batman and Robin was going to be a gigantic hit. I suspect that some senior executive in Burbank still has a bat-suit with nipples.

The release schedule is already turning into a titanic fight, and Marvel Studios will undoubtedly win the battle. But the movie audience (which is already diminishing) will end up severely fractured in this competition, and most likely the victory will not be worth the cost. This would be the case even if the genre had not peaked. Either way, the financial damage will be enormous.
Which might be half-survivable if there were a Plan B. But there is no Plan B. The Marvel form of cinema has strangled and stomped virtually everything else out of existence. Sure, they didn’t mean to, but that is what has happened. Much like kudzu was never intended to overgrow everything in sight, it nonetheless did so with a vengeance.

That also means that within the next four to five years, whatever does survive will do so based upon a very divergent strategy. The companies that pull this off will be the ones long-term to watch.

Wittgenstein

Derek Jarman is one of the best known figures in contemporary British cinema. Often, he has been one of the most controversial. His production of such films as The Tempest, Caravaggio, The Last of England, War Requiem, and Edward II have been a wild mix of radical politics, gay issues, stunning visuals, and fractured narratives. Along the way, he has been generally acclaimed as the definitive filmmaker of post-punk England.

Jarman is now dying. He has AIDS and is rapidly becoming blind. He admits that Wittgenstein is his last
feature film. These facts beg the obvious question: why a movie about Ludwig Wittgenstein?

Granted, Wittgenstein is one of the most important philosophers of the 20th century. His work was, in part, a critically scathing repudiation of the main currents of modern philosophy. Much of modern philosophy has involved the rigorous defining of terms, entrenched in the belief that philosophic disputes were based on a confusion about language. For Wittgenstein, there was no confusion about language. Instead, language itself was a virtually impenetrable mystery and philosophy was merely a confused byproduct.

Not surprisingly, Wittgenstein did not view philosophy as a special means toward discovering truth. That was the job of poetry and art. Most of all, Wittgenstein loved movies. When he taught at Cambridge, it was not unusual to find him at the local cinema watching either musicals or Westerns.

Which brings us back to the movie Wittgenstein. In a way, it is as much about Jarman as it is about Ludwig. The film is strongly reminiscent of Caravaggio. Scene after scene is presented as an abstract tableau framed against a black backdrop. The adult Wittgenstein (Karl Johnson) repeatedly crosses paths with himself as a boy (Clancy Chassay). Wittgenstein's academic colleagues — specifically Bertrand Russell (Michael Gough) and Maynard Keynes (John Quentin) — are presented as virtual caricatures who seem to only exist in relationship to Ludwig. The entire Bloomsbury Group is summed up by a baroque and snotty Lady Ottoline Morrell (Tilda Swinton) — a performance defined more by hats than by acting.

And yes, Wittgenstein does deal with the long kept secret that he was gay. As presented in the film, Wittgenstein's homosexuality was one of the more human and sympathetic qualities of a man who was otherwise notorious for his arrogant treatment of students.

At its best, Wittgenstein succeeds in balancing the abstract and the humane. It is one of Jarman's best films. Tragically, it is destined to be his last.

(Ed. Note: Jarman died in 1994.  This review was written in 1993.  Jarman did manage to do one last film, the experimental production of Blue, even though he was blind by that time.)