I basically thought I'd already said my piece on the whole "what constitutes real cinema" debate kicked off by Martin Scorsese about two months back when he took a cheap shot at the Marvel Cinematic Universe. As much of a fanboy as I admittedly am, I really had no interest in joining that particular fray because, well, one: there are other things to do, two: nobody's exactly paying me to launch some spirited online defense and, three: with 22 billion in the bank, a brace of Oscars and an arguably bright future ahead, Marvel certainly doesn't need anyone to stand up for them.
The thing is, it irks me that Scorsese has used this initial comment for some pretty shameless self-promotion in the weeks that have followed, basically rehashing it over and over again, and even launching a faux "advocacy" against the supposed "death of cinema," claiming that movie theaters should "rebel" against showing Marvel films. In short, while I was never particularly bothered about what ol' Marty thought of Marvel movies, it started to get on my nerves that, outwardly at least, he was appearing to launch some kind of campaign against them.
I had to admit, though, that given the glut of franchise films in the marketplace in 2019 alone, though, it was hard to argue with the impression that they really were muscling other non-franchise, risk-laden properties out of silver screen real estate. Had people forgotten what it was like to consume movies that aren't just part of some mass-marketed product line?
Then, two weeks after burgeoning franchise launcher Joker dominated the box-office, Maleficient: Mistress of Evil, a perfunctory sequel to 2014's surprise hit Maleficent opened to surprisingly limp numbers at the U.S. box office. It was enough to get the movie to number one, but not enough to even bring the film to half the opening weekend of the original. The movie now stands to finish its global box-office run with less than two-thirds of the surprisingly muscular box office of its predecessor. So basically, a significant portion of the first film's audience rejected the filmmakers' attempts to get a franchise going.
Things didn't end there; weeks later, Paramount attempted to launch Terminator: Dark Fate, its second reboot of the once-popular Terminator film franchise, following the disastrous Terminator: Genisys back in 2015, this time managing to attach James Cameron's name to the project as one of its screenwriters and producers. This was a sequel/reboot that next to nobody asked for, and the numbers reflected this reality as the film's #1 debut was overshadowed by the paltry amount it took in (USD29 million) next to its gargantuan budget (USD185 million). Audiences had now said "no" to two franchises in a row.
A week later, Doctor Sleep, a sequel to Stanley Kubrick's 1980 adaptation of a Stephen King novel, The Shining, tanked at the box office in spite of decent tracking, showing that goodwill from the cult status of The Shining wasn't going to be enough to sell a new movie. Another franchise lost, this time to Midway, a World War II movie by disaster-porn meister Roland Emmerich. That's three in a row.
But the best was yet to come.
Last weekend, Ford v Ferrari, a new film based on the remarkable true story of the 1966 24 Hours of Le Mans and the events leading up to it, opened against a reboot of Charlie's Angels, a franchise last seen in theaters way back in 2003, which, if I'm honest, absolutely nobody was asking for. Ford v Ferrari was tracking to do well thanks to the combined star power of proven box-office draw Matt Damon and former Batman Christian Bale, and was predicted to open well above Charlie's Angels. What happened? FvF ended up exceeding expectations, grossing USD31.5 million versus 20+ million predictions, while CA made USD8.8 milion versus predictions of USD13 million.
-SPOILER ALERT-
Ford v Ferrari, it should be pointed out, is not a typical underdog story in that it's not about the hero winning in the end or even about a "Rocky" finish in which the hero loses the fight but "wins" the crowd. The hero, Ken Miles DOESN'T actually win the 24 Hours of Le Mans despite being the best driver of the race, nor does he lose to Ferrari and get a standing ovation. Rather, what happens is that, on Henry Ford II's orders, he slows down his race-leading car so that the three Ford GT40s can come home in a dead heat and make a sensational photo op for the company. Unfortunately, by doing so he has exposed himself to a technicality that means that the driver who started farther back from him then wins the race as he has driven a longer distance. It's one of the most farcical endings to a race in motorsport history, and full kudos to James Mangold and his crew for not sugarcoating it in any way. And THEN, in a cruel twist which also reflects what really happened, scarcely a month after NOT winning at Le Mans and while he is busy at work developing next year's car, Miles crashes and dies. Holy cow. Having read about this race in a book, I knew these things were going to happen, but seeing them unfold on the big screen I was struck at the filmmakers' courage and candor. They may have fudged some of the details but they were truly honest when it really counted, and in doing so they delivered a gut-punch of an ending that is decidedly NOT franchise-friendly.
And yet, for all of that, audiences embraced this movie unequivocally, and continue to do so.
-END SPOILER ALERT-
That audiences have ignored several franchises in a row and have embraced a good, old-fashioned, emotionally authentic yarn about underdogs that doesn't feel in any way engineered or market-tested basically debunks Scorsese's assertion that franchise pics will gobble up the marketplace. Ford v Ferrari got made, didn't it? It got a wide release, didn't it? And perhaps most notably, it was CHAMPIONED, at festivals and in general marketing efforts, by the very studio whom Scorsese accuses of inundating the marketplace with "amusement park rides."
In short, there is no truth to the assertion that Marvel movies are "killing cinema" because several franchises in a row have JUST tanked, and audiences have JUST embraced a very genuine example of old-school filmmaking.
The bottom line is that audiences can embrace both a Marvel movie like Avengers: Endgame and a smaller, more intimate movie like Ford v Ferrari because both of them speak to them on a primal emotional level. They can reject franchise entries like Charlie's Angels, Terminator: Dark Fate and Maleficent 2 because those feel, by contrast, like by-the-numbers products injected with catchy marketing hooks and "updated" sensibilities. Scorsese can make claims about emotional connections all he wants, but I'm willing to bet nobody was hospitalized from crying uncontrollably after the death of a character in one of his movies, even the popular ones.
What people don't realize about Scorsese's assertions is that he isn't just insulting Marvel; he's insulting the audience that likes to watch their movies, basically claiming that we wouldn't know "cinema" if it hit us on the head, and that it's up to auteurs like him to save us from all of this commercialized claptrap.
Well, sorry to break it to you, Marty, but we DO know good movies when we see them, and we AREN'T just numb consumers who'll eat up anything the monolithic franchise-generating Hollywood throws at us.
If you couldn't get money for YOUR overblown passion project, maybe it's less a problem of Marvel movies and more about the fact that your last movie lost a bundle of money for the studio who bet on it, and that this new one, had it received a traditional theatrical release, probably would have done the same.
In short, if audiences can embrace a film like Ford v Ferrari, which by even your standard is definitely a sterling example of "cinema" but not YOUR work, then maybe you're the problem.
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
Monday, November 18, 2019
Chasing Perfection: A Review of Ford v Ferrari
directed by James Mangold
written by Jez Butterworth, John Henry Butterworth and Jason Keller
After what feels like an eternity in development hell for those of us following this film, Ford v Ferrari finally hits theaters worldwide this weekend, and boy, does it hit hard.
The film begins with race car driver Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) winning the 1959 24 Hours of Le Mans in an Aston Martin, only to be told in the very next scene during a doctor's visit that he can no longer race because of a serious heart condition. He then turns his attention to designing and selling cars in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts) grandson of the late, great Henry Ford, is having trouble selling his stodgy old cars to the baby boomers now coming of age with lots of cash to spend. One of his junior execs, the energetic Lee Iacocca (Jon Bernthal) comes up with a bold idea: make the name of Ford synonymous with international motorsport glory by buying up the company of Italian racing legend Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone) who has apparently expressed interest in selling it. Ford greenlights the idea, and Iacocca makes the trip to Ferrari's factory headquarters in Modena, Italy, only to be shot down in spectacular fashion when Enzo turns down the offer, having used Ford's offer to purchase to leverage a higher price from Italian automaker Fiat, who had also been looking to purchase Ferrari's company.
Humiliated, Ford comes up with a different plan: he dispatches Iacocca to assemble a team of the best automotive engineers in the world so that he can build a car to beat Ferrari at the single most important motorsport event in the world: the 24 Hours of Le Mans, a race which Ferrari's cars have won for the last five years. This directive brings Iacocca to Shelby's doorstep, but Shelby will only agree if he gets to bring his team on board, including his irascible driver and mechanic Ken Miles (Christian Bale) a World War II vet who is not only a wizard behind the wheel but has an uncanny knack for understanding what makes a car go even faster. Miles is at first averse to the idea of working for a corporate slug like Ford, but with his LA garage being locked up by the Internal Revenue Service and a family in the form of wife Mollie (Catriona Balfe) and son Peter (Noah Jupe) to take care of, Miles accepts Shelby's offer. Unfortunately, as they begin their quest to build Ford's world-beating car, Shelby, Miles and crew are beset by the Ford's right-hand man, the slimy Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas) whose main goal is to sell more cars. Unfortunately for Shelby and company, Miles doesn't quite fit into Beebe's image of a "Ford Man," i.e., a driver who can sell cars. Thus the true battle of the film begins: Shelby and his small crew of artisans find themselves in a pitched battle against the consummate capitalist Beebe and his own assembled crew for the right to bring glory to the Ford name.
I was drawn to this story upon reading A.J. Baime's thoroughly engrossing book "Go Like Hell," which narrated the events of this movie, albeit rather more expansively, and I was really looking forward to seeing this made into a movie. Though Ford v Ferrari is not based on Baime's narration of the events, and even though Mangold and his writers have excised a few key players from these events, like Ferrari driver John Surtees, they've preserved what really matters about this truly incredible story and, despite some inevitable creative flourishes, have crafted something that honors the legacy of everyone involved, especially the previously unheralded Ken Miles.
Damon and Bale are in top form as these two motorsport icons. While the latter is perhaps rightfully getting a bit more attention for his portrayal of the fiery ex-tank commander-turned race driver Ken Miles, in equal parts because of his steely performance and his somewhat shocking weight loss, Damon's turn is no less impressive given that it's a far more subtle role. He not only conveys Shelby's ability to navigate both the world of the corporate mogul and the pure racer, but also captures the barely-expressed but nonetheless visible anguish of a racer who has been forced out of the sport by events beyond his control. As he would take his pills for his heart condition I could almost feel him groaning.
It's together, though, that Damon and Bale truly deliver dynamite performances. Their onscreen chemistry is sensational, and really put me right in the moment, helping me feel the pressure that their real life counterparts must have felt knowing that they had a very tall order to deliver against considerable odds. Bale also has a great onscreen rapports with Catriona Balfe as Mollie, a strong and supportive wife who manages to elevate her somewhat minor role, and with Noah Jupe as Peter, whose hero worship of his father is tempered only by his wide-eyed fear that every time Ken climbs into a race car may be his last, but it's Miles' onscreen relationship with Carroll Shelby that defines this film.
Though Damon and Bale carry the film, the rest of the supporting cast make their presence felt as well. Letts shines as Henry Ford II, or "the Deuce" as he was popularly known in automotive circles, a mogul struggling to emerge from the long shadow cast by his late, pioneering grandfather, whose ruthlessness as a businessman is matched only by his personal insecurity and his pettiness. I'd argue that Ford was the biggest casualty of the inevitable trimming that the screenwriters had to do to cram this story into its surprisingly brisk two-and-a-half hour running time, as Baime's book expounded quite a bit on what was going on in his head, but Letts definitely makes the most out of the role and then some. I wouldn't be surprised if his name comes up when award nominations are announced in a few months' time. Bernthal turns in a nicely-nuanced performance as Iacocca, another eventual automotive icon in his own right, but who, back in those days, was just a suit with ambitions of being a rebel just like Shelby and Miles, ambitions that he unfortunately had to keep in check to please his boss. As his colleague Leo Beebe, whose sole ambition is to please his boss, Josh Lucas goes quite broad with the oiliness, and I might be inclined to critique him for it, but he's so effective as what is effectively the film's bad guy that it's hard to begrudge him his approach. There were other actors in smaller parts who left quite a nice impression on me as well, like Ray McKinnon as Shelby's crew chief Phil Remington, and even Remo Girone in his brief turn as the legendary Enzo Ferrari.
While Mangold smartly focuses on the human element of this story, when the action hits the racetrack he also definitely delivers the goods as well. Personally, I have seen a fair number of racing movies, both in theaters and on home video, including classics like John Frankenheimer's Grand Prix, adrenaline rushes like Tony Scott's Days of Thunder and Ron Howard's Rush and even parodies like Adam McKay's Talladega Nights: the Ballad of Ricky Bobby, and I have to say, as far as recreating thrilling racing sequences goes, Ford v Ferrari is right up there with the best of them. According to the filmmakers, the use of computer-generated imagery was kept to a minimum, which means a lot of the high-octane sequences were as close to the real thing as it can get. The film teases the on-track action early on with snippets of Shelby's win at the 1959 24 Hours of Le Mans and, a little later a gripping race at Willow Springs which Miles wins by the skin of his teeth. Apparently one of the film's few embellishments was that several of the victories Miles claimed in his career were nowhere near as close as the movie made them out to be, i.e. he won them by (ahem) miles. This was perhaps one of the movie's foibles; several of the otherwise gripping races were decided by late lunges or last-lap gasps by Miles, an occurrence that most racing fans can attest is not all that common in one's entire racing career, let alone in one season. Ron Howard's Rush was a little more faithful to history in this respect. Still, given the fantastic cinematography and choreographed driving at work, and the overall panache with which the on-track action was presented, it's really hard to hold this bit of creative license against the filmmakers. And as someone who pored over Baimes' book and Youtube videos on the subject, I can attest that the extraordinary ending is quite accurately depicted. As a fan of film soundtracks I also greatly appreciated Marco Beltrami's and Buck Sanders' jazzy, dynamic, era-appropriate soundtrack.
This movie is a must-see for gearheads, sports fans and fans of underdog stories in general. Anyone not familiar with the events depicted should steer clear of Wikipedia or other internet articles talking about them to maximize their enjoyment. I may have known exactly what was going to happen, but I still had a marvelous time.
9.5/10
written by Jez Butterworth, John Henry Butterworth and Jason Keller
After what feels like an eternity in development hell for those of us following this film, Ford v Ferrari finally hits theaters worldwide this weekend, and boy, does it hit hard.
The film begins with race car driver Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) winning the 1959 24 Hours of Le Mans in an Aston Martin, only to be told in the very next scene during a doctor's visit that he can no longer race because of a serious heart condition. He then turns his attention to designing and selling cars in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts) grandson of the late, great Henry Ford, is having trouble selling his stodgy old cars to the baby boomers now coming of age with lots of cash to spend. One of his junior execs, the energetic Lee Iacocca (Jon Bernthal) comes up with a bold idea: make the name of Ford synonymous with international motorsport glory by buying up the company of Italian racing legend Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone) who has apparently expressed interest in selling it. Ford greenlights the idea, and Iacocca makes the trip to Ferrari's factory headquarters in Modena, Italy, only to be shot down in spectacular fashion when Enzo turns down the offer, having used Ford's offer to purchase to leverage a higher price from Italian automaker Fiat, who had also been looking to purchase Ferrari's company.
Humiliated, Ford comes up with a different plan: he dispatches Iacocca to assemble a team of the best automotive engineers in the world so that he can build a car to beat Ferrari at the single most important motorsport event in the world: the 24 Hours of Le Mans, a race which Ferrari's cars have won for the last five years. This directive brings Iacocca to Shelby's doorstep, but Shelby will only agree if he gets to bring his team on board, including his irascible driver and mechanic Ken Miles (Christian Bale) a World War II vet who is not only a wizard behind the wheel but has an uncanny knack for understanding what makes a car go even faster. Miles is at first averse to the idea of working for a corporate slug like Ford, but with his LA garage being locked up by the Internal Revenue Service and a family in the form of wife Mollie (Catriona Balfe) and son Peter (Noah Jupe) to take care of, Miles accepts Shelby's offer. Unfortunately, as they begin their quest to build Ford's world-beating car, Shelby, Miles and crew are beset by the Ford's right-hand man, the slimy Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas) whose main goal is to sell more cars. Unfortunately for Shelby and company, Miles doesn't quite fit into Beebe's image of a "Ford Man," i.e., a driver who can sell cars. Thus the true battle of the film begins: Shelby and his small crew of artisans find themselves in a pitched battle against the consummate capitalist Beebe and his own assembled crew for the right to bring glory to the Ford name.
I was drawn to this story upon reading A.J. Baime's thoroughly engrossing book "Go Like Hell," which narrated the events of this movie, albeit rather more expansively, and I was really looking forward to seeing this made into a movie. Though Ford v Ferrari is not based on Baime's narration of the events, and even though Mangold and his writers have excised a few key players from these events, like Ferrari driver John Surtees, they've preserved what really matters about this truly incredible story and, despite some inevitable creative flourishes, have crafted something that honors the legacy of everyone involved, especially the previously unheralded Ken Miles.
Damon and Bale are in top form as these two motorsport icons. While the latter is perhaps rightfully getting a bit more attention for his portrayal of the fiery ex-tank commander-turned race driver Ken Miles, in equal parts because of his steely performance and his somewhat shocking weight loss, Damon's turn is no less impressive given that it's a far more subtle role. He not only conveys Shelby's ability to navigate both the world of the corporate mogul and the pure racer, but also captures the barely-expressed but nonetheless visible anguish of a racer who has been forced out of the sport by events beyond his control. As he would take his pills for his heart condition I could almost feel him groaning.
It's together, though, that Damon and Bale truly deliver dynamite performances. Their onscreen chemistry is sensational, and really put me right in the moment, helping me feel the pressure that their real life counterparts must have felt knowing that they had a very tall order to deliver against considerable odds. Bale also has a great onscreen rapports with Catriona Balfe as Mollie, a strong and supportive wife who manages to elevate her somewhat minor role, and with Noah Jupe as Peter, whose hero worship of his father is tempered only by his wide-eyed fear that every time Ken climbs into a race car may be his last, but it's Miles' onscreen relationship with Carroll Shelby that defines this film.
Though Damon and Bale carry the film, the rest of the supporting cast make their presence felt as well. Letts shines as Henry Ford II, or "the Deuce" as he was popularly known in automotive circles, a mogul struggling to emerge from the long shadow cast by his late, pioneering grandfather, whose ruthlessness as a businessman is matched only by his personal insecurity and his pettiness. I'd argue that Ford was the biggest casualty of the inevitable trimming that the screenwriters had to do to cram this story into its surprisingly brisk two-and-a-half hour running time, as Baime's book expounded quite a bit on what was going on in his head, but Letts definitely makes the most out of the role and then some. I wouldn't be surprised if his name comes up when award nominations are announced in a few months' time. Bernthal turns in a nicely-nuanced performance as Iacocca, another eventual automotive icon in his own right, but who, back in those days, was just a suit with ambitions of being a rebel just like Shelby and Miles, ambitions that he unfortunately had to keep in check to please his boss. As his colleague Leo Beebe, whose sole ambition is to please his boss, Josh Lucas goes quite broad with the oiliness, and I might be inclined to critique him for it, but he's so effective as what is effectively the film's bad guy that it's hard to begrudge him his approach. There were other actors in smaller parts who left quite a nice impression on me as well, like Ray McKinnon as Shelby's crew chief Phil Remington, and even Remo Girone in his brief turn as the legendary Enzo Ferrari.
While Mangold smartly focuses on the human element of this story, when the action hits the racetrack he also definitely delivers the goods as well. Personally, I have seen a fair number of racing movies, both in theaters and on home video, including classics like John Frankenheimer's Grand Prix, adrenaline rushes like Tony Scott's Days of Thunder and Ron Howard's Rush and even parodies like Adam McKay's Talladega Nights: the Ballad of Ricky Bobby, and I have to say, as far as recreating thrilling racing sequences goes, Ford v Ferrari is right up there with the best of them. According to the filmmakers, the use of computer-generated imagery was kept to a minimum, which means a lot of the high-octane sequences were as close to the real thing as it can get. The film teases the on-track action early on with snippets of Shelby's win at the 1959 24 Hours of Le Mans and, a little later a gripping race at Willow Springs which Miles wins by the skin of his teeth. Apparently one of the film's few embellishments was that several of the victories Miles claimed in his career were nowhere near as close as the movie made them out to be, i.e. he won them by (ahem) miles. This was perhaps one of the movie's foibles; several of the otherwise gripping races were decided by late lunges or last-lap gasps by Miles, an occurrence that most racing fans can attest is not all that common in one's entire racing career, let alone in one season. Ron Howard's Rush was a little more faithful to history in this respect. Still, given the fantastic cinematography and choreographed driving at work, and the overall panache with which the on-track action was presented, it's really hard to hold this bit of creative license against the filmmakers. And as someone who pored over Baimes' book and Youtube videos on the subject, I can attest that the extraordinary ending is quite accurately depicted. As a fan of film soundtracks I also greatly appreciated Marco Beltrami's and Buck Sanders' jazzy, dynamic, era-appropriate soundtrack.
This movie is a must-see for gearheads, sports fans and fans of underdog stories in general. Anyone not familiar with the events depicted should steer clear of Wikipedia or other internet articles talking about them to maximize their enjoyment. I may have known exactly what was going to happen, but I still had a marvelous time.
9.5/10
Saturday, November 9, 2019
The Acting Dead
So, according to a story that first ran in The Hollywood Reporter, actor James Dean, who died in a car crash in 1955 after making only three films, will be resurrected digitally by a new film company in order to star in a new feature film, one set in the Vietnam War, which began a full ten years after his death.
This is apparently legal, given that the fledgling filmmakers have already approached Dean's estate and secured its permission, most likely with a big wad of cash. That said, however, there is something distinctly repugnant about these people's declaration that they have "cast James Dean" in a role when it won't be James Dean actually playing the role, but rather a digital avatar bearing his likeness. It won't be James Dean reciting lines, or emoting, or doing pretty much anything onscreen, but rather a combination of computer-generated imagery, possibly someone in a motion-capture suit and a voice actor. So, however lawful this planned project it may be, it feels all kinds of wrong.
The sad part is that Hollywood has only itself to blame for creating an atmosphere in which people could even begin to think that this was okay. They've been resurrecting dead recording artists to star alongside living ones in commercials since the 1990s. Audrey Hepburn, Fred Astaire and Nat King Cole have all done television commercials well after their death, and in feature films the line was crossed quite some time ago when Laurence Olivier appeared in 2004's Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, a movie filmed approximately 14 years after his death. Disney basically sealed the deal when they grafted the late Peter Cushing's digital face onto a double in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story three years ago.
But Olivier's appearance, while off-putting, amounted to little more than a cameo in a movie that almost no one saw, a bit of an oddity designed to show off how digital technology could pay homage to the pulpy movies of old, and Cushing's "reprising" his role as Grand Moff Tarkin, while arguably even more off-putting, served a greater narrative purpose.
In the great scheme, this planned film with its digital star would probably be ignored were it not for the gimmick of casting someone who's been dead for over sixty-four years. In fact, even with the press it's been getting over the last couple of days, there's still no guarantee it'll be any more than a blip at the box office. James Dean has been dead for so long that only the oldest of baby boomers would even remember watching him in any original theatrical release. He's only relevant to film buffs and hipsters, which means this movie, even with this gimmick, is far from a sure sell. One might argue that the filmmakers aren't even doing this to make an easy buck considering that most moviegoing audiences these days don't even know who James Dean was. Maybe they're sincere "Deanphiles," motivated by a sincere albeit misguided desire to do him some form of homage. The scary thing, however, is the gates this movie, even if it's only moderately successful, could kick wide open.
The people representing Dean's estate already offered a somewhat chilling preview of what the success of this movie could portend, as they basically referred to their entire portfolio of dead actors and actresses whose likenesses could be plundered for future films. And surely, the big boys like Disney and Warner Brothers are now paying attention to how this will play out as well, even if the stars of their movies are voicing their disagreement. Disney, for one thing, has already borrowed a dead actor's face.
Considering how amoral the likes of Hollywood producers are, I could see them justifying this practice in a heartbeat. Why bother looking for Daniel Craig's replacement as James Bond when you could just pay Sean Connery for his likeness, or Roger Moore's estate for his? Why wrangle out contracts with Henry Cavill when you could just put "Christopher Reeve," the actor best remembered by most people in the role, in all future Superman movies? Why put up with Joaquin Phoenix's eccentricities when you could have Heath Ledger "play" the Joker forever? And then there's the question of how the folks at Marvel, who doubtlessly have terrabytes of digital footage of Avengers stars like Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth and many more, may use this data in the future, when Kevin Feige has retired and been replaced by an exec who's less interested in telling stories and more keen on cashing in on nostalgia. The possibilities for exploitation and really terrible creative decisions are quite numerous.
Frankly, I don't really care if things like this mean that actors can no longer demand eight-figure salaries. One of the reasons I love superhero movies apart from the fact that they bring to life the comics I grew up with is that they effectively killed the superstar system that was so en vogue in the 80s and 90s, where films were star-driven rather than story-driven and during which we got some pretty shlocky stuff. But I do sympathize with the struggling actors and actresses who won't be able to get decent work because some asshole in a suit would rather pay some long dead actor's estate than help a living one put food on the table. It's dehumanizing, if I'm honest, and justifying this practice by saying crap like "the family approves" doesn't really help matters any. I'm sure the relatives of James Dean, many of whom have probably never even met him, are thrilled to get a big bag of cash that they didn't lift a finger to earn beyond signing on the dotted line. In short, their motives are somewhat suspect as well.
As a moviegoer, though, I'd have to say, again, that this utter dehumanizing of movie performances is something that could doom cinema in a way that Martin Scorsese, in his anti-Marvel rants, never imagined possible. One reason I have loved movies since childhood, whether these are live-action or animated, is the fact that, however fantastical many of the movies I enjoy may be, there is still a very human element in all of them. Whatever the snobs may say, even these movies convey emotional truths that are at the very core of our humanity, even through the art of make-believe.
But there is a world of difference between the humanity conveyed by a character in an animated film like Coco and the inhuman monstrosity that James Dean's prospective grave robbers will soon unleash upon whoever pays to see their movie. One is the work of loving creators who work from scratch to craft something authentic, while the other is distinctly inauthentic, with its purveyors appropriating something they didn't create in the hope of evoking emotions in the audience that the likeness of the living person might have done had he been alive. Of course, to even attempt to compare the digital avatar to an actual, human actor, which is something the sorry excuses for filmmakers have attempted to do, isn't something that anyone with even a vague sense of human decency should do.
This is one of those times in which we, as the audience, have infinitely more power than the high-powered Hollywood producers and their ilk. Whether it's a stunt being pulled by some two-bit, unknown filmmakers like these guys, or whether it's the big players like Disney, Warner Brothers, Sony or anyone else trying to sell us movies with resurrected stars, we have to reject this affront to storytelling. The art of movies is part of what makes us human, and there is quite honestly nothing human about what could follow if this becomes, to paraphrase Elijah Wood, "a thing."
This is apparently legal, given that the fledgling filmmakers have already approached Dean's estate and secured its permission, most likely with a big wad of cash. That said, however, there is something distinctly repugnant about these people's declaration that they have "cast James Dean" in a role when it won't be James Dean actually playing the role, but rather a digital avatar bearing his likeness. It won't be James Dean reciting lines, or emoting, or doing pretty much anything onscreen, but rather a combination of computer-generated imagery, possibly someone in a motion-capture suit and a voice actor. So, however lawful this planned project it may be, it feels all kinds of wrong.
The sad part is that Hollywood has only itself to blame for creating an atmosphere in which people could even begin to think that this was okay. They've been resurrecting dead recording artists to star alongside living ones in commercials since the 1990s. Audrey Hepburn, Fred Astaire and Nat King Cole have all done television commercials well after their death, and in feature films the line was crossed quite some time ago when Laurence Olivier appeared in 2004's Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, a movie filmed approximately 14 years after his death. Disney basically sealed the deal when they grafted the late Peter Cushing's digital face onto a double in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story three years ago.
But Olivier's appearance, while off-putting, amounted to little more than a cameo in a movie that almost no one saw, a bit of an oddity designed to show off how digital technology could pay homage to the pulpy movies of old, and Cushing's "reprising" his role as Grand Moff Tarkin, while arguably even more off-putting, served a greater narrative purpose.
In the great scheme, this planned film with its digital star would probably be ignored were it not for the gimmick of casting someone who's been dead for over sixty-four years. In fact, even with the press it's been getting over the last couple of days, there's still no guarantee it'll be any more than a blip at the box office. James Dean has been dead for so long that only the oldest of baby boomers would even remember watching him in any original theatrical release. He's only relevant to film buffs and hipsters, which means this movie, even with this gimmick, is far from a sure sell. One might argue that the filmmakers aren't even doing this to make an easy buck considering that most moviegoing audiences these days don't even know who James Dean was. Maybe they're sincere "Deanphiles," motivated by a sincere albeit misguided desire to do him some form of homage. The scary thing, however, is the gates this movie, even if it's only moderately successful, could kick wide open.
The people representing Dean's estate already offered a somewhat chilling preview of what the success of this movie could portend, as they basically referred to their entire portfolio of dead actors and actresses whose likenesses could be plundered for future films. And surely, the big boys like Disney and Warner Brothers are now paying attention to how this will play out as well, even if the stars of their movies are voicing their disagreement. Disney, for one thing, has already borrowed a dead actor's face.
Considering how amoral the likes of Hollywood producers are, I could see them justifying this practice in a heartbeat. Why bother looking for Daniel Craig's replacement as James Bond when you could just pay Sean Connery for his likeness, or Roger Moore's estate for his? Why wrangle out contracts with Henry Cavill when you could just put "Christopher Reeve," the actor best remembered by most people in the role, in all future Superman movies? Why put up with Joaquin Phoenix's eccentricities when you could have Heath Ledger "play" the Joker forever? And then there's the question of how the folks at Marvel, who doubtlessly have terrabytes of digital footage of Avengers stars like Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth and many more, may use this data in the future, when Kevin Feige has retired and been replaced by an exec who's less interested in telling stories and more keen on cashing in on nostalgia. The possibilities for exploitation and really terrible creative decisions are quite numerous.
Frankly, I don't really care if things like this mean that actors can no longer demand eight-figure salaries. One of the reasons I love superhero movies apart from the fact that they bring to life the comics I grew up with is that they effectively killed the superstar system that was so en vogue in the 80s and 90s, where films were star-driven rather than story-driven and during which we got some pretty shlocky stuff. But I do sympathize with the struggling actors and actresses who won't be able to get decent work because some asshole in a suit would rather pay some long dead actor's estate than help a living one put food on the table. It's dehumanizing, if I'm honest, and justifying this practice by saying crap like "the family approves" doesn't really help matters any. I'm sure the relatives of James Dean, many of whom have probably never even met him, are thrilled to get a big bag of cash that they didn't lift a finger to earn beyond signing on the dotted line. In short, their motives are somewhat suspect as well.
As a moviegoer, though, I'd have to say, again, that this utter dehumanizing of movie performances is something that could doom cinema in a way that Martin Scorsese, in his anti-Marvel rants, never imagined possible. One reason I have loved movies since childhood, whether these are live-action or animated, is the fact that, however fantastical many of the movies I enjoy may be, there is still a very human element in all of them. Whatever the snobs may say, even these movies convey emotional truths that are at the very core of our humanity, even through the art of make-believe.
But there is a world of difference between the humanity conveyed by a character in an animated film like Coco and the inhuman monstrosity that James Dean's prospective grave robbers will soon unleash upon whoever pays to see their movie. One is the work of loving creators who work from scratch to craft something authentic, while the other is distinctly inauthentic, with its purveyors appropriating something they didn't create in the hope of evoking emotions in the audience that the likeness of the living person might have done had he been alive. Of course, to even attempt to compare the digital avatar to an actual, human actor, which is something the sorry excuses for filmmakers have attempted to do, isn't something that anyone with even a vague sense of human decency should do.
This is one of those times in which we, as the audience, have infinitely more power than the high-powered Hollywood producers and their ilk. Whether it's a stunt being pulled by some two-bit, unknown filmmakers like these guys, or whether it's the big players like Disney, Warner Brothers, Sony or anyone else trying to sell us movies with resurrected stars, we have to reject this affront to storytelling. The art of movies is part of what makes us human, and there is quite honestly nothing human about what could follow if this becomes, to paraphrase Elijah Wood, "a thing."
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