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| /Variety |
If
network television is thought to be stuck, considering past ideas that are now
ineffective (testing, pilot season) and trying out cable models that don’t
translate well to the broadcast model (the “event” series, from Hostages to Gracepoint), studio moviemaking is embracing an unfortunate future.
As has been written about extensively, whether in a recent, widely-shared
essay by film historian Mark Harris or in critic David Denby’s acclaimed
(and aptly titled) 2012 book Do Movies
Have a Future?, executives aren’t investing in artistry because they don’t
need to. All they need is to load up on comic book and young adult (YA) novel
adaptations – some of which have merit, a majority of which do not – and
they’ll see profits soar.
American Sniper
has been intensely divisive in recent weeks along partisan and critical lines –
this
blog has contributed in its own way – and that has everything to do with
its monstrous financial success. Clint Eastwood’s patriotic ode to American
soldiers has broken
box office records, and has generated so much word of mouth that a movie
typically ill-fitting to the liberal Academy’s tastes scooped up a half-dozen
Oscar nominations. But there’s a distinction that must be drawn. American Sniper has enjoyed fair
critical success – its 73% Rotten Tomatoes score is the lowest of all 2014 Best
Picture nominees, and lower than anything nominated last year – and has managed
to, unlike just about everything else in the world, unite
the opinions of Joe Biden and Sarah Palin.
Sniper’s
opening weekend haul of $89.2 million ranks only below the following 2014 films
(in order): The Hunger Games: Mockingjay
– Part 1; Transformers: Age of
Extinction; Captain America: The
Winter Soldier; Guardians of the
Galaxy; Godzilla; The Amazing Spider-Man 2; and X-Men: Days of Future Past. It doesn’t
take a film scholar to understand the significance – every movie on that list
aside from two is a sequel, with Guardians
being the latest comic book adaptation and Godzilla
the latest blockbuster Hollywood remake (for reference, ranking after American Sniper is another sequel in Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, which
comes in far lower at $72 million). And, conversely, look at the Oscar
nominees: American Sniper, at $60
million, had more than twice the budget of any of the seven other Best Picture
nominees – and second-in-line, The Grand
Budapest Hotel, comes from an indie darling if there ever was one, Wes
Anderson. Six of the eight nominees are considered, by the formal standards of
Film Independent, independent films.
In
short, Sniper bridges a divide, the
only remnant of an artistically-minded Hollywood picture in this year’s race. Gone Girl was a big hit, boosted by its
wildly-popular source material and Ben Affleck’s starry presence (and, yes,
good reviews) – but it was too dark for the Academy, and its unprecedented success
stands out as an anomaly. The other films close to a Best Picture nod were box
office duds from well-reviewed auteurs – Bennett Miller’s Foxcatcher and Dan Gilroy’s Nightcrawler
– while expected contender Interstellar,
from Christopher Nolan, disappointed critically and didn’t
make as big a box office dent as expected. American Sniper is the success story Hollywood needs: it’s a movie
from a distinguished director and invested in amply by a studio (though Steven
Spielberg was originally attached, and walked out feeling $60 million wasn’t
enough to make the movie) that fared exceptionally well at the box office.
On
television, the success story right now is FOX’s Empire. From feature-film writer Danny Strong (of Game Change and The Butler) and Oscar-nominated director Lee Daniels (Precious), it’s a soapy, campy foray
into the hip-hop world – and is also transgressive, both for its predominantly
black cast (with Oscar-nominated stalwarts Terrence Howard, Taraji P. Henson
and Gabourey Sidibe) and its depiction of gay characters. And that’s in both complexity
and the actual visualization of love between people of the same sex; unlike in Modern Family, two men kiss by the end
of episode one. Empire is a part of a
larger
conversation about shows casting black leads and emerging as breakout hits
– ABC’s Black-ish is the one new
sitcom to really break out critically and commercially, while the Shonda
Rhimes-produced How to Get Away with
Murder, starring Viola Davis, is a pulpy dramatic smash – but it’s outpaced
everything else via its week-to-week-to-week
ratings gains. It’s posting the kind of numbers, and boasting the kind of
momentum, that broadcast networks have all but given up on.
I
have screened the pilot of Empire,
and it delivers on its promise as a profoundly-uneven, incredibly-fun fusion of
Dynasty and King Lear that features an A-list cast at the top of their game.
What really struck me, though, was its deft handling of Jamal (Jussie Smollett,
a standout), the openly gay son of a hip hop mogul whose talents and
aspirations had never been taken seriously (because of the historic animosity
toward gay men within the black community). Where Empire can go over the top or a little preachy, Jamal is grounded
as a fascinating, unique and human character, encountering prejudice and
internalizing homophobia in a way very recognizable, yet hitherto hardly even
skimmed over in popular art. The show has the trappings of a hit – it’s sexy,
volatile and conflict-heavy – but, without question, its booming popularity is
strongly correlated to its originality. Empire
looks and feels like nothing else on television, and anyone thinking that has
nothing to do with its mega-success is a little off.
Of
course, qualitatively, Empire has
found about as much favor with critics as American
Sniper. The difference is in the audience – in why they’re successful. The
American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee has had to formally react to death
threats against Arabs and Muslims that have come out of American Sniper viewings – similar vitriol has been thrown at
small-scale critics of the film that don’t usually reach that wide (or that
varied) of an audience, including Drew
McWeeny of Hitfix. Reports have
been clear that American Sniper’s box
office bravado came to be because conservative
moviegoers came in bunches, in the same way Christianity-themed films from
last year including Son of God and Heaven is For Real overperformed. I’m
less interested in that, however, than in the disconnect between general fans
of the film and the critics in its favor. Consider Richard
Roeper: “American Sniper isn’t some
flag-waving political movie. It’s a powerful, intense portrayal of a man who
was hardly the blueprint candidate to become the most prolific sniper in
American military history.” Joshua Rothkopf of Time Out dubbed it “a superbly subtle
critique,” while Steve
Persall of the Tampa Bay Times
said it was “Less concerned with
action heroism than the consequences of deadly action, how it chips away at the
living.”
Obviously, an audience does not have to like a movie for the
same reason critics do, and praise that has gone Sniper’s way is substantially related to its ambiguity. But the
audience defensiveness of American Sniper
has been uncharacteristically strong and passionate – and in unusually large
numbers – even as these readings of the film differ so sharply with
professional criticism that has praised it. Viewers are looking at Bradley
Cooper’s Chris Kyle as an American hero that dare not be insulted, even if that
insult comes in the form of a harsh critique of the movie. I don’t mean
to generalize, but American Sniper
has undeniably risen from a hit to a mega-hit on these types of takeaways – the
kind that actually devalue its artistry. This is the point, then: what does it
take for a non-franchise, adult movie to really break box office waves now?
Just last year, Gravity was an
awe-inspiring piece of work, as big a hit as it was a risky investment. But the
economy of Hollywood is changing, and worsening for artists needing substantial
budgets, by the year. I wonder what it says: that Sniper was the only one to really break through, and that it did so
not because of moviegoers transfixed by the film’s craft or methods or even
story, but rather its real-life subject and perceived intent. And what does
this say about the future of the Hollywood economy?
These kinds of conversations can range into pompous,
irritating territory – but the arguments are important. It’s important to see
how few movies have the chance to reach the success of an American Sniper as we push on further
into this Century, and how few among them really reach “successful” numbers.
Hollywood isn’t losing anything, businesswise, in this new moviemaking culture.
And I don’t think Sniper points to it
taking any steps in the right direction, either.
But look at Empire,
and look at the explosion of possibilities on television still being tested
out. Two people of the same gender, kissing affectionately in a Hollywood
movie? Point to one in 2014. Of the Best Picture nominees – and, by the way,
one is based on the life of an openly, active gay person – not one comes close.
Nor do other “Oscar” movies that didn’t quite make the cut. But big hits on
television, from Orange Is the New Black to
House of Cards to now Empire (as well as more niche offerings
like Transparent and Please Like Me) are going so much
further than that, bending questions of race and sexuality and gender while
also soaring in quality and execution (with House
of Cards, for instance, the huge success of that show is totally unrelated
to its treatment of Frank Underwood’s sexuality). But with Empire, its success is rooted both in its lavish and soapy
exterior, and its fresh arguments about race, class and sex. And we’re seeing
that all over television right now; we’re seeing TV go to so many new places.
In bending form, HBO’s anthology True
Detective was a breakout hit; in exploring women’s racial and sexual
identities, Orange Is the New Black
emerged as a phenomenon; and in tapping into very real geopolitical fears, Homeland’s debut season was a critical
and commercial knockout.
And that’s the difference. The trending #Oscarssowhite
generated a serious conversation not about Academy biases, but about industry
issues. And television itself has a long way to go. But we’re seeing the two
head in profoundly different directions – the Screen Actors Guild acting and
ensemble award nominees sufficiently demonstrate that – and it’s made no
clearer than by the current hits of the big- and small-screen, respectively. American Sniper is the only
non-franchise, adult film to hit the top 10 in 2014 opening weekends – but it’s
not encouraging anything. It’s stagnant, a success not for taking chances or
probing artistically but for its appeal to moviegoers that tend not to flock to
the cinema as frequently. Empire,
however, is the latest to push television into exciting, vital and unexplored
new territory. It is bringing in actors with diminishing film opportunities to
sink their teeth into fantastic characters on TV. Right now, this is the place
where original, innovative storytelling can not only be made, but be seen, and
make a real dent in American popular culture.