 |
Oh,
how good it feels to be right all
the time.
Let me clarify. You
are all familiar with the Crimson Celluloid
rules, are you not? The ones emblazoned
on the back of the CC shirts? The
ones listed on the front
page of the Crimson Celluloid section?
No? Well, here they are again, for your
edification and enjoyment.
1.
I, Crimson, am smarter than you are. |
2.
I, Crimson, am funnier than you are. |
This has always been
a known quantity, but I now have for your
enjoyment three bits of evidence to prove
these hypotheses. In descending order of
importance:
Reason #1: There was a time, way
back in April, when I wrote an essay
about movie studios snapping up the rights
to popular video games in order to make
cash-tree movies out of them. In said essay,
I explained that because in 2001 video games
grossed more than Hollywood, Hollywood would
naturally come along and start buying up
the rights for natural tentpoles. Unwise
release tactics had hurt Hollywood, and
those tactics were at their most prominent
in 2001. I quote directly from my essay:
|
| Oh,
by the way, Mr. Movie Executive? Putting every
new summer release on record-breaking numbers
of screens cross-country may inflate opening
weekend box office, but it's going to hurt
the gross in the long run. Hollywood shot
itself in the foot in 2001, but rather than
fix their own problems, they're going to latch
on to the largely undisciplined video game
industry to cover up unwise business practices. |
That was April 4th. The
point of this? I check my mail today -- that's
snail mail, folks, the kind that comes printed
on paper -- and get my latest issue of Variety.
This is always a good day for me, as Variety
is perhaps the most respected trade paper in the
entirey of Hollywood. Stuff these folks report
on generally don't appear in "civilian"
entertainment rags for days, weeks, or sometimes
months. Imagine my surprise at this week's headline.
BIG
BOWS, WOBBLY LEGS: TENTPOLES FADE FAST AFTER
OPENING AD BLAST |
The article goes on to
detail that the idea of a summer blockbuster with
legs -- that is, a movie that makes money for
a long time in theatres -- are apparently things
of the past. Marketing and distribution of films
focuses on that apparently critical opening weekend.
Larger numbers of megaplexes offer more screens,
and compact film times -- witness MIB2 and
Stuart Little 2, both clocking in under
85 minutes -- insure more viewing possibilities
for the average ticket-buyer. More viewing possibilities
means larger receipts opening weekend.
Larger receipts
opening weekend means a fast-fade, as a movie
is overexposed, and every weekend sees the release
of yet another blockbuster hyped in the same way.
Could it
be that I, Crimson,
picked up on a trend and its repercussions over
four months before a respected rag like
Variety did? Could it be that I,
Crimson, saw the upcoming summer for what it was
and accurately predicted the result, while paid
entertainment journalists only reacted after the
fact?
I'll leave
those decisions up to you.
Reason
#2: A month and ten days later, I wrote another
essay shortly before the release of Star
Wars: Episode II. The essay's topic was that
on the mind of every movie-goer in America: Can
the Lucas machine topple Spider-Man's whopping
opening-weekend records? I voiced a rather unpopular
opinion -- that Star Wars stood very little
chance in reaching the Spider-Man juggernaut,
and that I believed SM to be the movie
that would come out on top, both on opening weekend
and in overall grosses.
Turns out
I was right about the opening weekend grosses,
and latest figures have Spider-Man beating
Star Wars worldwide by almost $200 million.
Star Wars currently holds a higher overall
spot on the top films worldwide right now, but
that is only for two reasons: one, Star Wars
was released after Spider-Man, and
two, Star Wars benefitted from a carpet
bombing of worldwide openings that were closer
together than Spider-Man's campaign.
I love ya,
Lucas, but when I'm right, I'm right.
Reason
#3: And this
is just pure vanity (as if the rest isn't). Rewind
the clock to early February, 2001. Hannibal
is about to hit the theatres, and due to my job
at a movie theatre, I am able to see the film
some four days before its release. I
write a review almost immediately afterward
for my own personal web page, and I cite the movie's
main problem as its treatment of the title character.
Hannibal, I comment, was never meant to be a central
character in anything. His role "amounted
to color commentary."
About a week
later Roger Ebert, who is close to but not quite
my personal deity (not to mention one of the most
respected -- if not the most respected,
with the passing of Pauline Kael -- movie critics
in the country), had this to say about the Hannibal
Lecter character.
| Dr. Hannibal Lecter
lurks at the heart of the story, a malevolent
but somehow likable presence--likable because
he likes Clarice, and helps her. But Lecter,
as played by Anthony Hopkins, is the sideshow,
and Clarice is in the center ring. |
Huh. How about
that. I match Roger Ebert almost word-for-word;
except I wrote what I did about ten days before
he did.
So there you have it. Big
ol' ego-stroking from your man Crimson, but hey,
maybe this'll make you sit up and pay attention
next time, won't it?
Now is the part in Sprockets
where we dance.
- Crimson |
