Selling Out
By Tom Macy
May 31, 2010
BoxOfficeProphets.com
That I’ve been less than ecstatic so far is not earth shattering, I don’t think I was doing cartwheels over many films at this point last year. But what feels different than other lackluster release calendars is that now, each time I walk out of the theater, there’s this question that lingers in my brain. “Why do I care? What’s the point?”
For years I’ve defended genre films, saying I didn’t care about movie clichés as long as they were done well. Not to say Iron Man 2 and Robin Hood were good uses of clichés, but when I watch them I think “but how could it be any better?” As in, I realize that the movie is not all that great or engaging but it isn’t dreadful. It’s just the same stuff we’ve seen time and time again. The reason Iron Man was so great the first time around was because we hadn’t seen him before. Same with Gladiator – which we all know Robin Hood is a sequel to.
So have I finally reached a point in my life where the clichés line doesn’t ring true for me anymore? Have I finally really seen it all one too many times? I’m not 13 anymore – the age Hollywood aims to keep in their crosshairs more than any other. When I was that age, The Rock and Broken Arrow collectively blew my mind - which leads me to the scary but not altogether out of the question notion : maybe I’ve just outgrown movies.
Of course, I’ll never out grow them completely. There are always going to be “movies for grownups” here and there that will be satisfying. But this idea that my love affair with big Hollywood flicks has come to an end is hard to swallow. My current love of cinema and its artistic capacities is something that was directly born from the nine-year-old who was paralyzed with thrill when the T-Rex – inexplicably coming out of nowhere – took those raptors apart. That type of thrill is something I haven’t experienced - not only this year, but in a long while (to be fair, How to Train Your Dragon did pop my eyes out a bit, but that’s on a completely different level). I’ve been growing more aware that maturity is ruining the magic of movies for me, but recently it’s taken on a realization that the possibility of never experience that magic again may be the reality…
For movies, that is. Now, television is a different story. Because when Locke, Flocke, the smoke monster, the Man in Black, whoever, was heading towards that ladder down to the boat and I heard “LOOOOOOCCCCKKKKEEEE!!!!!” then saw Jack standing in the rain, I think I did my first fist pump while watching filmed entertainment in almost a decade. That’s right. This column is about Lost! Psych!
I’ll just come right out and say I liked it. In fact, I loved it. The only things I didn’t love came up when I started measuring it up to expectations I had about what questions might be answered. Basically, I was trying to rationalize myself into being disappointed, when in reality I had just spent two hours shifting between seizures and sobs. It was the reverse of my reactions to highly anticipated movie events in recent years. With films like The Phantom Menace, The Matrix Reloaded and Superman Returns, I’d walk out doing my best to convince myself that I wasn't horribly disappointed and pretend I loved it, only to throw my hands up a few days, weeks, or months later and say, “oh, who am I kidding? That was awful!”
My satisfaction with the conclusion of Lost is almost too alien too accept. I’m so used to being betrayed by investing in certain franchises, which is part of what got me to my current feelings about Hollywood I discussed earlier. The main reason I found the end so unsettlingly satisfying? I cared. The decision to remind the audience why we love the show and have loved the show for the last six seasons was the best route that could have been taken. Because when I look back on moments that defined the series for me, they weren’t when I found out what was in the hatch. They were when Jack refused to let Charlie die.
It’s one thing to say that the pulpy-genre piece you’re producing/directing/writing all sprouts from strongly defined characters. Who’s really going to come out and say, “I’m looking to do a hollow story with one-dimensional characters to hang action set-pieces on.” After all, George Lucas famously said, “A special effect without a story is a pretty boring thing.” But I digress. Lost creators Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindeloff have done the same and claimed that they think of Lost as character-based rather than plot-based. Well, last Sunday they put their money where their mouth was.
Saying that it’s not about the destination but the journey may sound as cheap as the clichés I claimed to have ruined movies for me, but honestly, the shoe fits. If I had been given a lists of answers just to fill in gaps in a mythology, what am I really watching? I’ll be the first to admit that I fixated on why Libby was in the mental institution and why Jacob had the power to anoint Richard with everlasting life. But why did I care about that in the first place? Because I care how it effects Jack, Hurley, Kate…the list – amazingly – goes on for about 20-some odd characters.
By providing us with a base of characters for whom we have unwavering empathy, the stakes for tension, drama, thrills, action and any other run-of-the-mill genre device you can pull out of a hat, it all of a sudden became elevated and the result is the best movie I’ve seen all year. And it was on TV.
Of course, TV has the advantage for building character over tens if not hundreds of hours. A movie has to do it in three or less. Is that why we’re seeing better and better TV and worse and worse movies? I would say that is a definite yes. Don’t like it, Hollywood? Prove me wrong (my money is on Inception), but until you do expect Selling Out to be covering the silver screen more often. I can just hear the executives trembling.