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June 19, 2022
We’re Watching the End of the Movies
ROSS DOUTHA
Everyone has a theory about the decline of the Academy Awards, the sinking ratings that have led to endless Oscar reinventions. The show is too long; no, the show is too desperate to pander to short attention spans. The movies are too woke; no, the academy voters aren’t diverse enough. Hollywood makes too many superhero movies; no, the academy doesn’t nominate enough superhero movies. (A querulous voice from the back row: Why can’t they just bring back Billy Crystal?)
My favored theory is that the Oscars are declining because the movies they were made to showcase have been slowly disappearing. The ideal Oscar nominee is a high-middlebrow movie, aspiring to real artistry and sometimes achieving it, that’s made to be watched on the big screen, with famous stars, vivid cinematography and a memorable score. It’s neither a difficult film for the art-house crowd nor a comic-book blockbuster but a film for the largest possible audience of serious adults — the kind of movie that was commonplace in the not-so-distant days when Oscar races regularly threw up conflicts in which every moviegoer had a stake: “Titanic” against “L.A. Confidential,” “Saving Private Ryan” against “Shakespeare in Love,” “Braveheart”against “Sense and Sensibility”against “Apollo 13.”
That analysis explains why this year’s Academy Awards — reworked yet again, with various technical awards taped in advance and a trio of hosts added — have a particular sense of an ending about them. There are 10 best picture nominees, and many of them look like the kind of Oscar movies that the show so desperately needs. “West Side Story”: Steven Spielberg directing an update of a classic musical! “King Richard”: a stirring sports movie lifted by a bravura Will Smith performance! “Dune”: an epic adaptation of a science-fiction classic! “Don’t Look Up”: a big-issue movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence! “Drive My Car”: a three-hour Japanese film about the complex relationship between a widowed thespian and his young female chauffeur!
OK, maybe that last one appeals to a slightly more niche audience. But the point is that this year’s nominees offer their share of famous actors, major directors and classic Hollywood genres. And yet, for all of that, almost nobody went to see them in the theaters. When the nominees were announced in February, nine of the 10 had made less than $40 million in domestic box office. The only exception, “Dune,” barely exceeded $100 million domestically, making it the 13th-highest-grossing movie of 2021. All told, the 10 nominees together have earned barely one-fourth as much at the domestic box office as “Spider-Man: No Way Home.”
Even when Hollywood tries to conjure the old magic, in other words, the public isn’t there for it anymore.
True, this was a Covid-shadowed year, which especially hurt the kinds of films that older moviegoers frequent. Remove the Delta and Omicron waves from the equation, and probably “West Side Story” and “King Richard” would have done a little better. And many of the best picture nominees were released on streaming and in theaters simultaneously, while “Don’t Look Up” was a big streaming hit for Netflix after a brief, pro forma theatrical release.
But an unusual crisis accelerating a technological transformation is a good moment to clarify where we stand right now. Sure, non-superhero-movie box office totals will bounce back in 2022, and next year’s best picture nominees will probably earn a little more in theaters.
Within the larger arc of Hollywood history, though, this is the time to call it: We aren’t just watching the decline of the Oscars; we’re watching the End of the Movies.
A long time coming …
That ending doesn’t mean that motion pictures are about to disappear. Just as historical events have continued after Francis Fukuyama’s announcement of the End of History, so, too, will self-contained, roughly two-hour stories — many of them fun, some of them brilliant — continue to play on screens for people’s entertainment, as one product among many in a vast and profitable content industry.
No, what looks finished is The Movies — big-screen entertainment as the central American popular art form, the key engine of American celebrity, the main aspirational space of American actors and storytellers, a pop-culture church with its own icons and scriptures and rites of adult initiation.
This end has been a long time coming — foreshadowed in the spread of television, the invention of the VCR, the rise of cable TV and Hollywood’s constant “It’s the pictures that got small” mythologization of its own disappearing past.
But for decades these flights of nostalgia coexisted with continued power, and the influence of the smaller screen grew without dislodging the big screen from its commanding cultural position. TV in the 1960s and ’70s was incredibly successful but also incredibly disposable, its endless episodes standing in relation to the movies as newspaper opinion pieces stand to best-selling books. The VHS tape created a different way to bond with a successful movie, a new life for films neglected in their initial run, a new source of revenue — but the main point of all that revenue was to fund the next Tom Cruise or Julia Roberts vehicle, with direct-to-video entertainment as the minor leagues rather than The Show.
There have been television stars since Milton Berle, and the ’80s and ’90s saw the slow emergence of what we now think of as prestige TV. But if you wanted true glory, real celebrity or everlasting artistic acclaim, you still had to put your work up in movie theaters, creating self-contained works of art on a larger-than-life scale and see how critics and audiences reacted.
If you succeeded, you were Robert Altman (who directed small-screen episodes of shows like “Bonanza” and “U.S. Marshal” for years before his big-screen breakthrough) or Bruce Willis (who went from “Moonlighting” to “Die Hard”). If you tried to make the leap and failed — like Shelley Long after “Cheers” or David Caruso leaving “NYPD Blue” — you were forever a cautionary tale and proof that the movies still stood alone, a mountain not just anyone could climb.
The late 1990s were this cultural order’s years of twilight glow. Computer-generated effects were just maturing, creating intimations of a new age of cinematic wonder. Indie cinema nurtured a new generation of auteurs. Nineteen ninety-nine is a candidate for the best year in movies ever — the year of “Fight Club,” “The Sixth Sense,” “The Talented Mr. Ripley,” “Election,” “Three Kings” and “The Insider,” so on down a roster that justifies not just a Top 10 but a Top 50 list in hindsight.
Tellingly, Oscar viewership actually rose from the late 1980s onward, peaking in 1998, when “Titanic” won best picture, which (despite its snobbish detractors) was also a victory for The Movies as a whole — classic Hollywood meeting the special-effects era, bringing the whole country to the multiplex for an experience that simply wouldn’t have been the same in a living room.
To be a teenager in that era was to experience the movies, still, as a key place of initiation. I remember my impotent teenage fury at being turned away from an R-rated action movie (I can’t recall if it was “Con Air” or “Executive Decision”) and the frisson of being “adult” enough to see “Eyes Wide Shut” (another one of those 1999 greats — overhyped then, underrated now) on its opening weekend. And the initiation wasn’t just into a general adulthood but into a specific lingua franca: There were certain movies you simply had to watch, from “Austin Powers” to “The Matrix” (1999 again!), to function socially as a college student, to understand the jokes and references that stitched together an entire social world.
Just another form of content?
What happened next was complicated in that many different forces were at work but simple in that they all had the same effect — which was to finally knock the movies off their pedestal, transform them into just another form of content.
The happiest of these changes was a creative breakthrough on television, beginning in earnest with “Sopranos”-era HBO, which enabled small-screen entertainment to vie with the movies as a stage for high-level acting, writing and directing.
The other changes were — well, let’s call them ambiguous at best. Globalization widened the market for Hollywood productions, but the global audience pushed the business toward a simpler style of storytelling that translated more easily across languages and cultures, with less complexity and idiosyncrasy and fewer cultural specifics.
The internet, the laptop and the iPhone personalized entertainment and delivered it more immediately, in a way that also widened Hollywood’s potential audience — but habituated people to small screens, isolated viewing and intermittent watching, the opposite of the cinema’s communalism.
Special effects opened spectacular (if sometimes antiseptic-seeming) vistas and enabled long-unfilmable stories to reach big screens. But the effects-driven blockbuster, more than its 1980s antecedents, empowered a fandom culture that offered built-in audiences to studios, but at the price of subordinating traditional aspects of cinema to the demands of the Jedi religion or the Marvel cult. And all these shifts encouraged and were encouraged by a more general teenage-ification of Western culture, the extension of adolescent tastes and entertainment habits deeper into whatever adulthood means today.
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