Empty After the Ending

I’m getting old. I’m convinced my taste in movies has matured to the point where very little surprises or impresses me. The summer movie season will kick off in a week with Iron Man 2, and I’m not nearly as excited as I was ten, or even five, summers ago. How can I be? Look what’s coming in the next few months: two more additions to the increasingly exhaustive line of superhero flicks, Iron Man 2 and Jonah Hex; the Pirates trilogy meets video games experiment, Prince of Persia; more installments of adolescent literary fantasies, Twilight: Eclipse and Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows Part 1; two more spins on the A-Team formula after this Spring’s The Losers, A-Team, ironically, and The Expendables; and a female twist on the Bourne Identity, Salt. While a few original ideas sneak between the derivative—Last Airbender and Inception—most of this summer’s blockbuster’s look to be trite, forgettable affairs.

Lately, the blockbusters bombarding multiplexes every Friday and breaking billion dollar records aren’t making the impression they used to. I remember breaking my neck to get to the movies every Friday in late 90s and early 2000s. Those days gave audiences some great movies, didn’t they? I still quote Maximus’ rousing, vitriolic speeches while remembering his unrelenting climb from slavery to glory to freedom. I easily recall the valor of the Fellowship of the Ring at Helm’s Deep and on Pelennor Fields. I apply Alonzo Harris’ philosophies on a daily basis. I still marvel at Spidey’s first swings through the glass and steel caverns of Manhattan. I smile when thinking of the lethal beatings delivered by Jason Bourne, James Bond and Bruce Wayne. I can’t say that many of the blockbusters from the past two years have delivered the same quality of memories, and I doubt this year’s crop will prove different. At this point, I could almost care less about catching this year’s blockbusters. Almost.

Catching the next big tent pole release, week after week, is just a chore these days. I can only feign so much enthusiasm for the next “blockbuster” that attempts to top the spectacle and box office of the previous week’s top earner—albeit with a fraction of the humor, heart and character of flicks from the early days of the last decade. Spectacle is all audiences get today, and I’m tired of it. Honestly, how many ‘kewl,’ over-the-top, CGI spectacles can the industry pump out before even the lowest common denominator is no longer impressed? The studios may believe that the average moviegoer will never go unimpressed, but I would bet the domestic take of this year’s highest grossing film that even the most easily satisfied moviegoers will eventually crave something with at least a sliver of depth, something that they dare to remember after they leave the theater.

With the success of the forgettable, derivative visual vomit that was Avatar, spectacle has reached a profitable apex, and studios will likely be less inclined to finance films with a modicum of depth. Avatar proved, nearly single handedly, that millions of viewers care less about characters and story and more about hi-def visuals, 3D landscapes and explosions that pretend to singe their eyebrows. Over a billion served may not care, but I do.

I’ll admit to being curious enough about some of today’s spectacle-laden blockbusters to check them out on opening weekend. Even I can’t deny that going to movies is a, relatively, inexpensive weekend diversion—and heck, I still love movies despite their increasing lack of depth. But, by the time most movies are over, I just don’t care. After some light introspection, I know why. I’m tired of spectacle after spectacle. I’m sick of movies being nothing more than a collection ‘kewl’ moments. I’m over limp stories that make you yawn in between those moments. I’ve had enough of the moviegoing experience overshadowing good storytelling. Tell me a good story with cool characters and slick, clever action and I’ll be happy. Sadly, I doubt any of today’s studio-supported filmmakers will oblige me.

I can name a dozen “holy shit” moments from the top earners of the past two or three years, but I can barely recite a plot or name a character that I honestly cared about beyond the post credits sting. Sure, I remember Captain Jack and Robert Downey Jr.—who, by playing himself in his past two mega-hits, is more a draw than the characters he’s playing—as well as the cool stories of a Nazi-hunting brigade of Jewish soldiers, post-9/11 Batman and bomb dismantling specialists in Iraq, but those are exceptions. Allow me to point to any film starring Sam Worthington as examples of the rule. With a blank slate lead and a clichéd "band of heroes save the world, civilization, (insert motivation here)" plot, flicks like Terminator: Salvation, Clash of Titans and Avatar are becoming a template for box-office gold (Okay, maybe not those first two, but definitely the third). Not to mention, the rapid expansion of Marvel and, to a lesser extent, DC’s comic universes, whose superhero sagas are becoming so prevalent that two summers ago (2008’s geekgasm) it seemed like the only movies in theaters were based on comics.

I love comics, particularly the art and the format. But, even as a comics-obsessed teen, I could never get invested in the popular superhero stories. Every story was just a slight variation on the same formula. The thing about formulas is they produce consistent results with very little derivation. No comic fan or cinephile can tell me, with a straight face, there’s more than a fraction of difference between Batman and Iron Man. And, how many comic flicks are just different versions of adolescent power fantasies writ large with colorful characters that would be promptly injured, quickly ridiculed, thoroughly subjected to psychiatric evaluation in real-life(thanks, Kick Ass and Watchmen). I don’t mind suspending disbelief and taking flights of fancy, but all the flights are going to a place I’ve been before. However, as long as there’s gold in them hills, then Hollywood will follow. I’m just not sure I want to follow them anymore.

I love original—or at least as original as is possible in today’s over-saturated media—stories. I cherish cool characters. But, the more I watch, the more everything seems the same. When I leave the theaters today, I’m friggin' crestfallen. You expect a great experience and all you get is a two-hour 3D ride. There's no memorable character or moving scene to recall, just the empty feeling of stepping off the roller coaster so the next person can take their turn. I’ll ask my moviegoing companions what they thought then they’ll ask me, and we all respond by shrugging our shoulders and saying, “Meh. It was okay.” By the way, thank you for ‘meh,’ Lisa Simpson. No other word so simply encompasses the utter apathy I feel for most of today’s filmed entertainment. It’s a sad day when the best response you can muster to a film is ‘meh.’ In a way, the ‘meh’ response reminds me of ‘pops,’ or audience reaction, in pro wrestling. Wrestlers say that they can appreciate being cheered and jeered, but an apathetic, disinterested crowd response is worse than death. Maybe, it’s not the fault of the studios, or the filmmakers, or the actors, or the source material. Maybe, I don’t care because I’ve seen too much. Maybe, I’m wrong for valuing story and character over spectacle. Or, maybe, other mediums are telling better stories, stories dashed with spectacle and replete with compelling characters and engaging plots. Maybe, television, video games, and, to some extent, the internet really are to blame.

I’ll jump on the bandwagon with the studios and agree that TV, video games and the internet are drawing attention away from movies. The rise in popularity of the serial drama on television has led to sprawling engaging series with deep, complex characters and refreshing plots that encourage viewer investment. Today’s television series want viewers to come back each week and see how a grand story ends, which is, more often than not, infinitely more satisfying than the denouements of most “blockbusters.” Much like modern TV series, Video games also offer deep, stirring narratives that thrive on an investment derived from their innate interactive nature. In top-selling games like Grand Theft Auto, Halo, Gears of War, Metal Gear Solid, Arkham Asylum, etc, I am the protagonist. I am an active participant in these worlds rather than a passive witness. It doesn’t hurt that you can enjoy both in hi-definition for a cost that, in the long run, is a lot cheaper than a weekly trip to the movies. As far as the other accomplice, the internet, I can find more pure comedy in a 30-second YouTube clip than most big screen comedies. I can watch most of the TV shows I love while downloading episodic content for my favorite video game with one device.

I’ll never stop loving movies. As long as daring filmmakers and smaller studios keep telling great stories in lieu of barn-burning special effects rides, I’m there. I’ll even continue to check out those big blockbusters because I’m curious and I have to do something my Friday nights. But, until the principles that guide those smaller films truly impact the way tent poles and megahits are crated, I doubt I’ll remember anything about this decade’s “blockbusters” besides a few “kewl” moments.

I'm Back

After an extra long hiatus, the Storyteller's Journal is back with a new purpose and perspective. Te all-new and all-different, as it were, Storyteller's Journal will focus on approaching film, TV and pop culture media from a unique perspective. I will be posting more editorials and features about the storytelling themes and trends, along with some personal observations on pop culture media. I'm going to do my best to keep up with the posts and provide some cool stuff along the way while the pretentiousness to a minimum. Enjoy.