Cheering For The 1% (Or Perhaps The Top 25%): Part Four

 The following is an essay I wrote a year ago for a class on celebrity culture. Over the next five Fridays, I will upload another part of the essay. I find it to be pretty relevant today for a number of reasons (the NBA lockout, the Occupy Wall Street protests, this recent article from Forbes ,etc.) and hope you find it to be an enjoyable read.     

Many entertainment writers point to James Cameron’s film Avatar as contemporary proof of 3-D’s revitalization. Whether they are pointing towards the movie’s artistic success (nine Academy Award nominations and mostly positive reviews, although not one from J. Hoberman, who described the film’s Sky People (humans) as, “heavy-handedly associated with the Bush administration,” (Hoberman) or its overwhelming financial fortunes (most successful film ever in inflated box office grosses) is hard to tell. Mr Cameron used specially designed 3-D cameras to shoot his magnum opus, which was supposed to set it apart from the onslaught of other 3-D product. Moviegoers still had to wear glasses — although now the red and blue tinted spectacles were discarded for a more fashionable look resembling sunglasses apparel — and the projected image was still dimmer than if it were to be viewed in flat 2-D, but there it was. An enhanced depth of field made Avatar’s advantageous 3-D tolerable, at times enjoyable even, but still a distraction.

      Anyone who tries to sell 3-D as an organically immersive viewing experience is a con man, an optimist, or both. Moviegoers do not need to be coached, visually or otherwise, into forgetting that they are watching a film on a screen laid out before them. If a snake or an automobile come flying at you, everything behind them stays flat. The image can only be as large as the screen; avoiding IMAX for a moment, all 3-D images are measured within a rectangular box — IMAX just spreads them vertically. What’s natural about darkened images expanding out of a large screen? And why does it always seem to appear, almost stubbornly, within the center of the frame? 3-D moviemaking is eye candy hoopla, an exhibition where moviegoers come to be distracted. As Hoberman notes, “3-D is an attraction that that has little to do with, and may even take away from, narrative.” (Hoberman). With many directors shooting in 2-D and then watching their films 3-D enhanced in post in order to bring in the big bucks (the practice is sometimes called “retro-fitting”), artistic value takes a backseat to the almighty dollar. Cameron has already announced that his 1997 blockbuster Titanic is already in the process of being converted into 3-D for a 2012 theatrical re-release commemorating the one hundred year anniversary of the ship’s sinking (because nothing says respectful like dead bodies being hurled at you for sixteen bucks a pop). Not only has he committed to shooting all future projects in 3-D, now Cameron wants consumers to shed more cash to see his old movies in the retroactive format as well (for Cameron’s Terminator footage in 3-D, one must only take a ride to Orlando’s Universal Studios theme park).

     In a recent online article conducted by popular entertainment website Entertainment Weekly, a list was made of the top forty actors under the age of forty. This was done by adding up the box office totals of each actor's films and ranking them in ascending order. Of the top twenty, only a select few can be cited as the main reason for their films' ultimate successes. Coming it at number twenty was Disney teen icon Miley Cyrus, a tv/music star who successfully made the jump into movies thanks to the hardworking Disney brand behind her. She branded herself as a part of another brand (the Mouse House) and hit gold. At number sixteen was romantic comedy star Katherine Heigl, a lead actress who has so far stuck to the romcom genre to good effect. Both of these women have found their niche (and their fanbase) and have stuck to them, resulting in consistent and desirable box office grosses. The rest of the list is, not surprisingly, filled with actors with a film or two that insiders would note as nothing more than outliers. The Twilight kids are on there, the Harry Potter folks make their presence known, and at number one is the star of Avatar, Clash of the Titans, and Terminator: Salvation, Sam Worthington, an actor who is trying to be a star by picking hardly anything but pre-sold, franchise bound projects. It would be more telling if the writers of the column had decided to disqualify the blockbusters, the odd ducklings, in order to see who had the real star (aka drawing) power. As it stands, the list feels tainted by big budgets, high concepts, and smart and aware agents.

      Neophyte stars do have ways of capitalizing on their youthful success, however. Many decide to take their talents to the stage in an attempt to see if their star can shine as bright in live theater as it did battling CGI robots. It also provides them with a sense of gravitas, an actorly street cred, that helps to show that they care about the craft and are willing to sacrifice the large Hollywood checks to put in a few months treading the boards and honing their skills. The reviews of their performances aren't always kind, but by that point, the strong box office grosses and enough good will will have made the trip to New York, the West End, or elsewhere worth their while. Even Daniel Radcliffe has taken to the Broadway stage in Peter Shaffer's drama Equus, and he looks to return again next year in the musical How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying. 

 

      In the theater world, Hollywood stars matter while theater stars are sent to play drug addicts and prostitutes in bit parts on Law and Order. Not one theater star (Bernadette Peters, Sutton Foster, Raul Esparza, etc.) could open a movie on their own, but many stars from Tinseltown could sell out a Broadway theater for months. And the less said about American Idol stars taking over roles in Broadway musicals to attract star-happy tourists, the better.

      There are some actors who were trained in the theater and then went on to have much success in the movie industry, and let's make it known that they should not be criticized the same way. Still, their film stardom helps to enhance their theater stardom. In chronicling the upcoming Merchant of Venice Broadway production starring acting legend Al Pacino (he of film, stage, and recently television fame), Jason Zinoman of The New York Times explains, “some stars get their names above the title. Others’ appear in lights on the marquee. Then there’s Al Pacino. A giant photo of his weary-looking face in the new production of The Merchant of Venice towers above West 44th Street, high above signs for Phantom of the Opera and American Idiot. The Public Theater production of Merchant, staged by Daniel Sullivan at the Delacorte Theater in Central Park, received glowing reviews last summer, but this simple, unadorned portrait explains why the show is transferring to Broadway at the Broadhurst Theater: star power, pure and simple. And, sure enough, ticket sales have already been brisk.” (Zinoman AR 5).

      Most stars, whether necessary or unnecessary, can only find success for a brief period of time. They rise and fall depending on the fall out from their last starring vehicle and either downgrade to supporting roles or quit the business altogether – a third option, starring in direct-to-video low budget hack jobs, is less desirable than the previous two. Even if the idea of stardom seems adequate, the career instability appears nerve-wracking and careless. In his tell-all book on the motion picture industry, producer Art Linson, he of The Untouchables and Fast Times at Ridgemont High fame, describes the up and down ladder of the Hollywood star food chain: “I recall being in a preproduction meeting regarding Ordinary Daylight, the David Mamet script about an artist who is slowly losing his sight. It was just three days after The Last of the Mohicans had opened to a big box-office number. The executive in charge was saying, 'why don't we set Daniel Day-Lewis to play the lead?' I believed this was a fine idea, but no one seemed to remember that when he'd been suggested two months earlier, the response was, 'let's not turn this picture into an art-house movie just yet. Let's at least try to get a star.' Does 'flavor of the month' ring a bell here? After an $11 million opening weekend, Daniel Day-Lewis's star had risen. The chase for his next picture had begun. In three years hey may go back on the 'great actor but not a star' list without even knowing it. But for now Hollywood must take a number and wait in line.” (Linson 144-145 ).

      Stars come and go, but they do exist. The question is, are they needed to sell a movie? In this day and age, one movie star cannot a hit movie make. Concept matters more, concept is the key to awareness. How else to describe the summer blockbusters of recent years, the ones which relied on other known factors besides familiar faces to sell themselves? People as known brands can work, but too many factors outside of their film career can unfairly disrupt the perception of their work. Lindsay Lohan may be branded a movie star, but her “real life”, always in the public and picked apart by millions, paints her out to be pill-popping and driving intoxicated with reckless abandon. Who is the star and who is the person? A popular actor in the public eye cannot clock out and go home and be done with it all after a hard day's work. The public demands that the outside, externalized life (or is it internalized life) be reported on and discussed until blue in the face. A movie star is really a media star, a press star that occasionally does a film or two in order to stay relevant and remain noticed. Movie stars may now be more valued to sell papers than movies.