by Patrick Taggart
Quick – what are the best films of the year so far? A reasonable list might
include Smoke, Clockers, Babe, The Usual Suspects, The
Brothers McMullen, Crumb, Living in Oblivion, Apollo
13. Unashamed romantics might want to include While You Were
Sleeping.
Omit the last two and look at the list again. Something is missing, and it’s
rather easy to see: Hollywood. Big bucks. Movie stars.
This past summer would appear to have been the season of the independents.
Normally a time when studio blockbusters dominate the market for weeks on end,
this summer turned out to be a romp of the raggedy underdogs. The titles of the
big-budget releases have all but faded from memory. What is there apart from
Apollo 13, the one truly good mainstream film? Congo? Batman
Forever? Free Willie 2? Nine Months? Oh yes,
Waterworld.
It could be argued that against competition like that, even Ed Wood,
were he alive and working today, would be filling theatres. But films like
Crumb, The Brothers McMullen, and The Secret of Roan Inish did not find success merely by default. Even if the major studios had managed
to find a few more palatable, big-budget movies besides Apollo 13 to
release this summer, people would still be paying attention to their low-budget
siblings.
It should be made clear that “success” is a relative term and that “critical”
success is rarely equaled by “financial” success. There can be little doubt any
three of the independent features that have played for weeks at the Village and
Dobie have together grossed only a fraction of a film like Nine Months.
Those of us who look to the indies as a source for revitalizing the tired blood
of blockbuster filmmaking are under no illusions: Big-star, high-concept films
are the money-makers in this game. Hell will freeze over before Hal Hartley
gets a suite of offices and final cut at Warner Bros.
Financial success, then, is measured in small increments. Although John
Sayles’ Roan Inish was a low-grossing film in the big scheme of things,
it is his highest grossing film to date. That’s a hopeful sign. (Especially
since the film has less commercial appeal than his earlier Passion Fish or Eight Men Out.)
When one considers the relatively modest grosses of even the most successful
arthouse films, it becomes more meaningful to speak of success as a measure of
enthusiasm. In this area, business is boffo. Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp
Fiction brought the snarling, quirky, and smart-mouthed world of
underground film to millions of Disney-doped Americans. And they liked it.
Tarantino significantly altered the way mainstream audiences saw off-mainstream
films. Just as Spike Lee did years before with She’s Gotta Have It, and
Hector Babenco before that with Kiss of the Spider Woman.
And by the way, interest in alternative film does come in waves or cycles. In
the 1960s, a movement in the U.S. developed, inspired somewhat by the French
New Wave and led by filmmakers like John Cassavetes and Andy Warhol. Ten years
ago, films like Spider Woman, Blood Simple, and Stranger Than
Paradise caused more than a few people to seek relief from an explosion of
special-effects films and sequels.
To these eyes, today’s outbreak of significant, highly enjoyable, and even
profitable independent films carries the hint of – dare we say it – revolution.
But even if we accept that the current phenomenon is just another cycle, isn’t
it possible that the cycle will end with audiences and movies in general on a
slightly higher plane? It is already obvious that some indie-minded filmmakers,
like Spike Lee and the Coen brothers, can be absorbed into the Hollywood
machine without being co-opted. (Some others, notably the Australians and
perhaps John Woo, have not.) This means they can make the same kinds of movies
they always have, and reach larger audiences.
Something else that’s relatively new is the trend among major studios to set
up distribution arms especially for imports and independents. In the 1980s, a
number of small distribution companies were created in order to handle the
swell of off-Hollywood film. When the boom ended, many of them disappeared. One
of the big ones in recent years has been Miramax, which was acquired by Disney.
Gramercy, which distributed the last two films of Steven Soderbergh, is owned
by Paramount. That these studio “boutiques” are being formed is evidence of a
growing belief that the independents are a market to be tapped.
But what will sustain this boom, boomlet, revolution, wave – however you
perceive it?
Hollywood itself will help. A blockbuster like Home Alone or Die
Hard can alone dominate up to 20 percent of the industry’s revenue and
screen time. But the chase for the $200 million blockbuster is dangerous, and
enough of those films fail to keep the juices flowing for other stuff.
And it’s not magical thinking to believe that a significant portion of the
audience is becoming alienated by films that resemble theme parks and video
games, films that use the same stories to play to the same emotions and which
employ the same actors. They’re turning away – to the many excellent Chinese
films crossing our borders, to the scruffy movies being made by Tarantino and
his pals, to gentle romantic comedies with budgets big and small.
“These [independent] films are making enough money in theatrical release that
they’re going to continue to be made,” says UT film scholar Tom Schatz. “The
audience has reached a critical mass to sustain that.”
This isn’t a blanket call to support your local arthouse; a lot of
off-mainstream films are as crummy as any other. But if that critical mass
diffuses itself, it could be a long march to the next up cycle. As Robin
Williams said in the emphatically mainstream Dead Poets Society, “Seize
the day.” n
This article appears in October 6 • 1995 and October 6 • 1995 (Cover).