Are movies really better on the big screen?
Or do the best movies still translate?
This week, director Denis Villeneuve set the Film Twitter world afire by declaring that seeing his adaptation of Dune on a small screen would be akin to driving ‘a speedboat in your bathtub.’ The director made these comments just months before his film is set to debut, per Warner Brothers’ pandemic-era plan, concurrently in theaters and on HBO Max.
His statements hit at a weird time for moviegoing. When it initially appeared that vaccines were ushering in a return to normal, theatrical releases continued to struggle. Sure, some have opened big, but the vast majority of films have seen sharp declines in subsequent weeks. As I wrote a few weeks back, I think it’s becoming obvious that the days of casual moviegoing haven’t returned. Those going to the theater likely know what they want to see when they go, and more and more people are making it clear that they have no issue at all watching something from the comfort of their own living room.
As the delta variant and a legion of angry, unvaxxed and unmasked people make our return to normal less likely every day, I grow more thankful for the ability to watch newer films from my home. Yes, I’ve gone to the theater several times. But as the case numbers increase, my kids return to school and going back out seems less and less appealing, I’ll likely be more apt to watch new movies from the safety of my couch. While I could understand the desire to return to theatrical-only distribution a few months back, when it appeared the pandemic was waning, I think ending the streaming argument now is dangerous and irresponsible.
At the same time, I understand Villeneuve’s frustration. He’s a director who doesn’t work small, and he’s the rare artist who can make big, visionary pieces of entertainment that are also strikingly beautiful and thought-provoking. I prefer his Blade Runner 2049 to the original, and I think Arrival is one of the most moving science fiction films of the last 20 years. His films use big canvases, and they’re enhanced by seeing them on a giant screen with booming sound. I can understand why, given the chance to adapt one of his favorite novels — one that has visionaries like David Lynch and Alejandro Jodorowsky — and with a sequel on the line, he’s frustrated that a movie made to be experienced on a big screen will come with an at-home option (although it should be noted that Villeneuve has previously talked about his fondness for watching movies on his phone).
And it brings up the entire debate: Is there a right way to see a movie? Is the big screen experience truly the only way to enjoy a film? Should Hollywood hold back these releases until they can safely be enjoyed only in a theater? Or are we being too hard on the living room experience?
There is an argument to be made that some movies are best enjoyed on a big screen. Watching Gravity smack-dab in the middle of an IMAX theater, 3D glasses plastered to my face, is one of the greatest cinematic experiences I’ve had. I can’t imagine watching the film in any other format. Same with Avatar, an immersive, thrilling experience in theaters that I’ve never had a desire to revisit on a small screen. There’s the rock concert vibe I got cheering along with hundreds of fans when I first saw The Avengers and the claustrophobic, no-way-out terror I felt with Green Room.
But let’s be honest: Saying a movie is best seen on the big screen assumes that we’re seeing it in optimal conditions. Avatar popped for me in 3D Imax because the projection was bright, the sound was cranked and the audience behaved. Truth be told: That mind-blowing experience I had with Gravity was my second attempt at seeing the film. The first time, my wife and I were seated to the side near the front of the theater and none of the 3D effects worked.
The theatrical experience is a great thing when it works like it should. But even before the pandemic, that experience was heading downhill. We’ve all been in theaters where the management doesn’t seem to care about projection quality, and so we’ve strained to see dim films. Sometimes the sound blares and deafens; other times, I can’t hear anything over the explosions from the next theater. I’m constantly distracted by the lights of people’s phones (or, worse, the sound of people talking on them), screams of kids or (as happened a few weeks ago with The Green Knight) inappropriate laughter. If few things are more enjoyable than a night at the movies, few things are more excruciating than a subpar movie experience.
And the truth is, our at-home experiences are no longer really that much of a step down from the theaters. TVs are big and clear. Surround sound can blast us through the walls of our family room. While I missed going to the theater during the first year of the pandemic, I can’t say I missed out on watching great movies. In fact, I watched more movies than ever, returning to them as an escape at a pace I haven’t in decades. And these weren’t all small movies. I saw The Road Warrior, Police Story and Tenet from my couch and felt like I was missing very little. Even Nomadland, a movie whose vistas are likely breathtaking on the big screen, was watched from my laptop. Did I miss sitting in the dark with hundreds of strangers and being immersed in a film? Sure. Did I feel like it subtracted anything from the greatness of those films? Not at all.
Great movies translate no matter how you see them. Jaws, The Godfather, Citizen Kane, Rear Window, It’s a Wonderful Life, Goodfellas, Rocky, Fargo, Pulp Fiction, Singin’ in the Rain. I love each of these movies. I’ve seen them all multiple times...but never on the big screen. The first time I saw Star Wars was on a VHS rental at my grandparents’ house. Even some of the bona fide classics I have seen on the big screen — Raiders of the Lost Ark, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Ghostbusters, Back to the Future — are movies I only saw years after myriad viewings on my television. And truthfully, only one of them was shown with the projection, sound and audience that elevated it from watching it at home (Close Encounters on the big screen is, admittedly, a spiritual experience).
The truth is, the great movies will make the move to whatever format you can see them in. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is still claustrophobic and terrifying; the last time I watched it was on my laptop. Does that mean that there’s nothing gained from seeing it in a theater? Not at all. It definitely adds a dimension that you can’t get at home. But it doesn’t mean it’s the only way to see a movie, and it doesn’t mean a movie can’t be enjoyed if it’s not seen in the biggest, loudest (and more expensive) format.
There are, admittedly, some movies that exist only for spectacle’s sake and land with a thud when seen out of that format. I can’t imagine watching Godzilla vs. Kong on my TV, and I’ll admit that I get more restless trying to watch some of the bigger Marvel movies at home. But maybe that only indicates that they’re not great movies. After all, Mad Max: Fury Road was a movie that melted my brain when I saw it in a theater; and guess what? It works just as well when I crank up the volume and play it at home. I watched Gravity on HBO once and it worked differently than it did in the theaters, but it still worked.
I understand why some are passionate about defending the theatrical experience. It’s something that, even before the pandemic, seemed to be one the decline. People don’t head out to the local AMC to just see what’s playing when they can just go home and fire up Netflix. The pandemic has put even greater stressors on cinema chains, and studios who have streaming services they need to get off the ground are exploiting that. I don’t want movies to go away. It’s something special to me; it always will be my preferred way of seeing a movie. When Dune opens, if cases have declined, I’m sure I’ll be seeing it in a theater.
But the truth is, there’s a fine line between defending a business and defending an art form. Yes, I want the business of movies to stay because it’s something I enjoy. But that doesn’t mean movies are going to go away or become less important to me. The great ones can make the transition from theatrical to home. The stories translate. The art still resonates, even if it’s on a different scale. I’ll continue to hope the moviegoing experience survives because it’s something I enjoy. But the movies themselves? They speak to my soul; and they ain’t going anywhere.
The Digest
Where you can find me online
The truth is, this summer’s been a disaster for most of my outside pursuits. We’ve had travels, illness, family obligations and more commanding most of my time. Work continued to be busy, with both a lump of COVID-related communications and magazine articles to write, and then I had some freelance projects I was working on through July and early August. So, none of it has left me with the time or energy to do a ton of writing and podcasting. As we approach the fall, I’m starting to look at a more sustainable schedule for some of those projects. My guess is with this newsletter, it will be less a weekly release on the same day and evolve more into an ongoing thing that I’ll write as I have time/desire. Sometimes, that may mean time passes between emails. Other times, there might be a deluge. But this is still a fulfilling, fun project and I want to keep with it as we head to its one-year anniversary. That said, there was one thing I could point you toward:
We’re Watching Here: “Lumet Double Feature”: Perry and I finally got around to recording the next episode in our Summer of the ‘70s series, and boy was it worthwhile. We did a Sidney Lumet double feature focused on Dog Day Afternoon and Network, and I had a blast with it. Give it a listen and hear us talk about two great films. And we already have the next episode locked and loaded for next week!
Chrisicisms
The pop culture I’m consuming
Gene and Roger: I believe this podcast from The Ringer only has a few episodes left, so there’s no better time to catch up. Roger Ebert was essential to my growth as a film lover and development as a critic. And growing up in the ‘80s, you couldn’t avoid knowing who Siskel and Ebert were, even if, like me, you didn’t have much chance to watch their show. This podcast, put out in quick, 30-minute installments, goes over the history of their groundbreaking show and their unlikely partnership. If you’ve read Ebert’s memoir Life Itself (or seen the documentary) or followed him, there’s little here that will surprise you. And yet, hearing the clips of some of their reviews and understanding how they change how we talk about movies is great fun.
The Plot Thickens (Season Two): The second season of this podcast ended a week or so ago, and it’s a fun little history of the making of Brian DePalma’s notorious adaptation of Bonfire of the Vanities. I haven’t seen the film, but I’m familiar with it, and listening to the on-set interviews and hearing more about the fiasco is great fun. I’m not a big fan of behind-the-scenes reporting, but I love hearing about a good fiasco and this is one of Hollywood’s most famous. An enjoyable listen for movie nerds.
Schmigadoon! (Apple TV+): My new policy on TV shows is that I don’t review them until they’re over. And while Schmigadoon ended a little over a week ago, I didn’t watch the final episodes until last night. And what a disappointment. The Apple TV+ comedy has a great premise: A bickering couple (Cecily Strong and Keegan Michael Key) are stranded in the world of an old-fashioned musical. The cast includes Alan Cumming, Kristen Chenowith, Fred Armisen, Martin Short and Jane Krakowski. This should 100% be my jam. And yet, after an amusing pilot, the show squanders its opportunities. There’s little chemistry between Strong and Key, and the series is oddly repetitive, constantly returning to the same formula over and over (someone will sing and Strong will point out how dated it is; Key’s character is grumpy and hates singing). The show at times seems to be aiming to be a Pleasantville-esque exploration of innocence, but it never digs deep enough to hit. The central couple bounces off the town members but never really engages them, and I never bought that their relational conflict was real. It wraps up in a well-intentioned finale that speaks about accepting differences, but the show never did the legwork to make it resonate. Key’s character’s big development is pat and Strong’s hinges on a personality flaw that the show never made clear from the start. The cast is engage, the show looks great and the songs are fun. But it’s never really funny, smart or thoughtful. It’s six episodes that are the equivalent of 30-minute SNL sketches saying “musicals, am I right?” If I sound harsh on this one, it’s only because the potential was so strong.
The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix: I had fun with Hendrix’s latest novel, which posits a world in which the events of slasher movies really happened and the Final Girls (the virtuous heroines left standing) have to move on with the wreckage of their life. I expected this would be either a fun little riff on the slasher genre (a guilty pleasure for me) or a meta commentary on the films. Instead, Hendrix plays it straight. The book concerns a group of horror movie survivors (the movies are fictitious, but Hendrix doesn’t hide his inspirations) who meet for a weekly support group. When it appears a killer is out to get them, they must figure out the mystery. The story isn’t particularly scary, but Hendrix tells it with energy and momentum. It’s more thoughtful than I anticipated, examining characters whose lives are defined by their worst moments and the people who turn those moments into entertainment. It ends in a fantastic climax and then goes on to a final chapter I found unexpectedly moving and graceful.