"They don't make movies like that anymore"
For years, we have been lamenting the disappearance of those wonderfully simple Hollywood films that used to be a staple in cinemas. Yet they haven't gone anywhere; they have simply changed their venue.
«They don't make movies like that anymore.» I hear that all the time, and I've said it often enough myself.
I'm talking about classics (yes, classics!) like «Speed», «Air Force One», «The Rock», «Con Air», and all the rest. Movies that didn't need a well-known brand or an entire universe to lure us into the cinema. All it took was one or two big stars on a poster, a simple—often slightly ridiculous—premise, and enough budget to make the whole thing go boom.
Then, the other day, I watched «Mayday» on Apple TV, with Ryan Reynolds as a crashed fighter pilot and Kenneth Branagh as an America-loving ex-KGB agent in the Cold War of 1987. Two stars, a plot that fits on a napkin, and 111 minutes of noticeably expensive entertainment. Just like the old days. Awesome.
So, the statement isn't actually true. They still make these movies. «Mayday» is the best proof of that. And yet, it feels as if this type of Hollywood film went extinct at some point.
How on earth can both be true at the same time?
Hollywood's old bets
The fact that «Mayday» is landing on Apple today instead of in theaters has a pretty simple reason: for Hollywood, this type of film has become too big a risk. Studios are therefore increasingly focusing on even more expensive and spectacular event films like «The Odyssey», franchises, superheroes, or sequels. These can be sold as the event of the year via IMAX and other premium cinema formats. People are still happy to leave the house for things like that.
In between, that wonderfully crazy self-evidence with which Hollywood used to bring a film like «Face/Off» to the cinema has been lost: two of the biggest stars of their time swapped faces, John Woo let doves fly around, and the perfect popcorn evening was complete.
What has changed since then? Well, a theatrical release used to be just the beginning of a much longer journey. It was followed by VHS and DVD, rentals, pay-TV, and eventually free-to-air TV. Each of these windows brought in new money—and gave the film another chance to find its audience. The risk was thus spread over years. A lousy theatrical release didn't necessarily have to be the end of the story.
A second life
«Fight Club» is a pretty spectacular example of this. David Fincher's film cost around 65 million dollars and grossed only a good 100 million worldwide in 1999. Not a total disaster, but given additional marketing costs and the cinema's share of revenue, it wasn't a deal that had Hollywood popping champagne corks. Strictly speaking, the film even lost money in theaters.
However, the film then developed into a cult phenomenon on DVD; in the US alone, nearly 50 million dollars (!) were added through physical sales. Today, «Fight Club» is considered one of the best and most well-known films of its time—a reputation it only earned in its second life beyond the cinema.
Exactly this second life hardly exists anymore. Anyone putting 50, 80, or 100 million dollars into a film without a known brand today can rely much less on catching up on a disappointing theatrical release later. The culprit is... streaming. At the same time, however, streaming is also the salvation.
The streaming paradox
To avoid bearing the risk entirely alone, studios sell their films to Netflix, Apple, and the like, or they produce them together from the start. While this limits the chance of hitting the big jackpot if a relatively inexpensive film suddenly becomes a hit, it does mean that it is determined much more precisely in advance how much money the film will make or how much risk a studio is taking.
A prominent example: «K-Pop Demon Hunters». Netflix covered the approximately 100 million dollar production costs and guaranteed Sony, which had produced the film, another 20 million in profit. The risk was gone for Sony—but unfortunately, so was the big score when the film suddenly became a worldwide, gargantuan mega-hit.
You can see the irony behind it by now: streaming offers studios a safety net, but at the same time, it has destroyed the old one itself. After all, we are increasingly streaming films comfortably at home, on ever-larger televisions, and with home cinema systems that, at least in terms of picture quality, have long been able to keep up with many a cinema hall. We therefore hardly buy DVDs and Blu-rays anymore, and we zap through linear television even less.
«Mayday» is therefore not sitting among all the tiles on Apple despite streaming. It is there because of streaming. Only, that is likely exactly why it will lack that second and third life that turned a film like «Fight Club» into a cult phenomenon years later. As soon as Apple pushes the next new releases to the front, «Mayday» threatens to crash (no pun intended) back down among all the other tiles.
Perhaps we should therefore stop saying: «They don't make movies like that anymore.» They still make them. They just disappear faster. That is exactly why we think they don't exist anymore.
I write about technology as if it were cinema, and about films as if they were real life. Between bits and blockbusters, I’m after stories that move people, not just generate clicks. And yes – sometimes I listen to film scores louder than I probably should.
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