It Isn't Netflix That's Killing Cinema
"Stop, Netflix" - Thomas David Kavanagh
My very first part-time job was working in a video-store in Dublin, the shop also doubled as a Laundrette but this was Dublin in the 90's. In some ways this was a dream job to a film-obsessed teenager. When I wasn't interrupted by customer transactions or tidying up, I was reading, watching or talking about films. I poured over every synopsis on the sleeve of the video cases (which fuels in me a burning contempt for those that put security tags across the back of boxes so you can't read them), I remembered who the main cast and crew were building my own internal IMDB.
I knew the entire catalogue and would apply myself to learn everything I could about the week's new releases, as well as those soon to be released, at an academic level. By asking a few questions I could recommend a safe film for a customer to enjoy or an interesting one for those that were there for the love of the art. But in spite of the library at my fingertips I was still a regular attendee at the local cinema, because that was the way to truly enjoy a film.
And when I say truly enjoy, what I actually mean it was the only way to watch a film, largely uninterrupted, on a screen big enough for everyone to see. With the kind of sound that meant you could actually hear the dialogue as well as the music and sound effects so loud they made your seat shake. There was no pausing the film so that amateurs could refill their drink or take a comfort break, if you went for the super-sized drink you'd made your bed!
While television was going from strength to strength in terms of production values, the sets themselves where still deeper than they were tall or wide and the quality of image never came close to the clarity of what was projected on a cinema screen... until now.
Having a Quality Experience
Now that it's possible to cover one of the walls of your living room with the latest flat screen television, playing a recent 4k release of your favourite blockbuster, the veneer of the cinema trip has started to fade. You can't help but recognise things like the stain on cinema screen (presumably the result of unwanted beverage and a strong throwing arm) that you noticed before anything was projected on, but is still noticeable throughout the film. You have suddenly become aware that all is not well in cinema land.
That time you paid to see a film in 3D but unfortunately they'd loaded the 2D version instead, or the time the sound failed and the film had to be restarted, or worse when the picture failed and despite multiple attempts the screening had to be abandoned (getting to see all of Mad Max: Fury Road felt almost as difficult as escaping a post-apocalyptic horde).
Perhaps the most unforgivable of all is the current trend in the modern cineplex that no longer requires a human to check that the correct film is playing without fault. I've lost count of the number of times I've missed a part of a film while I or another patron try to hunt down a member of staff to let them know the film is out of focus or there's some other problem. The inconvenient truth is that once you consider cinema beyond the nostalgia and magic of seeing dust drifting through the projected light, it is about a quality experience that is increasingly lacking in quality.
"But cinema is about a shared experience" is an argument often made and there is of course merit to this, but when the rustling of sweet wrappers is replaced by the orchestra of mobile phones (which come with their own light show) and the occasional aroma of buttered popcorn is now melted cheese on nachos or a smuggled KFC, the ambience is not exactly what it used to be.
'If film were food theatre purists might find themselves hungry very quickly.'
This experience has also been the victim of aggressive profiteering by cineplexes where prices for a single ticket can reach or exceed £10 and even if you do go alone you'll likely need to factor in the cost of parking and over-priced refreshments. To justify exorbitant costs for tickets, premium experiences such as larger screens, comfier seats or chairs that move while water is squirted in your face.
Gimmicks like these can be fun on occasion (watching Rogue One in 4D with my eldest son was a blast), but at a cost of over £15 for a single adult ticket this could mean the difference between seeing one film a month instead of three. Is it any wonder that a streaming service such as Netflix is so popular offering an endless buffet of film and television for the price of an average cinema ticket? If film were food the theatre purists might find themselves hungry very quickly.
The high pricing has had a direct effect on the scheduling and release of films. Massive amounts of money are spent advertising films to guarantee an audience (I feel like I've spent a year watching Captain Marvel trailers) and studios delay or desperately scramble to time their releases so their film isn't up against a blockbuster of the same classification.
Imagine releasing a low budget family comedy in the same week as a new instalment of Toy Story, you'd be left hoping for decent home video sales or your film appearing on Netflix. Because at the end of the day what is a film without an audience?
Why Should Filmmakers Intentionally Limit Their Audience?
In response to the popularity and success of Netflix Original films, competitions such as the Cannes Film Festival and more recently the Academy Awards face considerable pressure to exclude films that only receive a 'token' cinema release. In the case of Cannes, they have effectively implemented a ban that reflects the law in France that requires a delay of 36 months between a film's theatrical release and home release.
The film Roma appeared in a limited number of US cinemas three weeks before it was available to stream on Netflix and received Oscars this year for Best Cinematography, Best Foreign Language Film as well as a Best Director for Alfonso Cuarón. Now voices that allegedly include director Steven Spielberg (because he would define such a film as a 'TV Movie') would see that this is the last time such a film is awarded, not by merit but by it's distribution.
What then becomes of documentaries? Just like narrative films these are often intended for cinema but may only aspire to a limited theatrical run and a tour of film festivals. Without streaming services like Netflix these films might be lucky to play on television before disappearing into obscurity. Why should filmmakers intentionally limit their audience and the reach of their film in order to be eligible for an award for their craft?
Films Are Made to Be Watched
The end result will surely be an Oscar for big budget blockbusters, and maybe there's a place for that. But I'm not sure you can continue to claim that the award is for artistic and technical merit if it is happy to ignore advances in these areas because a film didn't appear in a cinema for long enough. After all, there are plenty of films that have a limited release that don't have Netflix attached to them:
Oscar winning documentary Free Solo opened in four theatres and reached a maximum of 533 in the US.
The excellent Can You Ever Forgive Me? received nominations for its screenplay and lead cast but opened in five US theatres and reached a maximum of 555.
Regina King received an Oscar for her role in If Beale Street Could Talk (it was also nominated for best original music score and adapted screenplay), the film opened in four US theatres and reached a maximum of 1,018.
To see many of these films you will need to be fortunate with your local cineplex or go to a good independent cinema, ironically the same theatre that will be screening films that were released decades ago or never made it to the cinema in the first place. Despite my age I have seen the same number of Spielberg films at home than I have in the cinema and those I have at home I have certainly watched more than once.
I have been lucky enough in my life to be in a film that had a theatrical release. To appear on the screen while I sat and witnessed the audience laughing at the funny parts and even applauding at the end of the film. I think this is every filmmaker's aspiration and I very much hope to repeat this experience in the future. But this would feel like a hollow achievement if the film is never seen again when the light from the projector fades. Films are made to be watched.
