With several remakes currently in movie theaters (e.g., The Thing, Footloose, The Three Musketeers) and a confluence of interesting articles of late, I decided it would be valuable to revisit a familiar subject that has a definite impact on a screenwriter’s life: Hollywood’s default business approach of ‘similar but different.’ Yesterday I spotlighted this this 24 Frames [LAT] article by Steve Zeitchik that delved into the whole 80s remake phenomenon. We explored two ideas:
* On the business side, remakes are popular in Hollywood because they are the perfect version of ‘similar but different,’ perhaps the safest way to create a product that carries with it strong consumer pre-awareness.
* On the filmmaking side, remakes are an acknowledgment that all stories have been told before, so why not retell the good ones.
Today I want to highlight a recent article by LAT’s columnist Patrick Goldstein. The title suggests one thing — “Is Hollywood’s mania for remakes spinning out of control?” However if we dig into the piece, we confront a powerful dynamic that seems to be at work in contemporary culture which would also help to explain the enduring power of remakes.
Some excerpts from Goldstein’s article:
“Everything old is new again,” the expression goes, but in pop culture these days, it seems more fitting to say everything new is old again. This weekend is an apt example: Paramount Pictures opened “Footloose,” a remake of the cheesy 1984 dance movie, and it’s battling for the box-office crown against “The Thing,” a new version of the 1982 John Carpenter horror film from Universal Studios.
I guess it was inevitable that we’d have a weekend where both of the big new releases were remakes. (Next week brings another: “The Three Musketeers.”) Whether you’re writing about Hollywood, pop music, TV or theater, the prefix “re” gets a serious workout on your keypad, since every other new project seems to be a remake, reboot, revival, reissue, relaunch, reunion, restaging, reimagining or reenactment.
Goldstein had a sit-down with Matthijs Van Heijningen, the 43-year-old director of “The Thing.”
Van Heijningen spent his teen years gorging himself on Kafka novels and groundbreaking American movies, notably “The Godfather” series, “Blade Runner,” “The Exorcist” and “Jaws.” At 17, he said, he sneaked into Carpenter’s “The Thing” (itself a remake) and was impressed, being a Kafka fan, by what he calls “its nihilism and sense of doom.”
The movie resonated with him so much that when Van Heijningen was looking to make his feature debut here, he found himself eager to revisit the film. The whole mania for remakes tends to revolve around commercial motives — it’s usually easier to sell something that is familiar to audiences — so it’s hardly a surprise to discover that there was an element of careerism in Van Heijningen’s decision to pursue the film.
“It is slightly strategical to do something that’s familiar,” he told me. “But I thought I could give the movie some of my own flavor as a filmmaker. It’s a lot like making a commercial. There’s already a story, created to sell a product. So as a director, you just have to find a way to express your own ideas inside of that framework.”
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Van Heijningen has a shrewd grasp of showbiz history. In the 1970s, with the studio system in a state of collapse, a generation of New Hollywood filmmakers seized power, inspiring a decade of auteur-driven artistry. But by the 1990s, Hollywood was once again firmly in the grasp of media behemoths. Intent on bringing order and sustainability to their often-chaotic studio subsidiaries, they began systematically developing the kind of film franchises and remakes that were easily marketable and offered predictable profit potential.
Here we see the merging of the two points we explored yesterday: Hollywood’s ‘similar but different’ credo, filmmakers attempting to find an aesthetic justification to retell a story that’s already been told. But later in the article, Goldstein cites another dynamic which suggests that the real energy behind remakes may not be studios or filmmakers — but consumers themselves:
Why are we so culturally backward-looking today, especially when our technology — our iPhones, iPads and computer graphics — leaps forward at such a dizzying pace? If anyone has a good theory about this deceleration of pop culture, it’s Simon Reynolds, whose recent book, “Retromania,” is about how pop music has gone from being an exploratory art to a form of cultural archaeology.
He argues that retro has become a structural feature of pop culture, acting as an inevitable down phase to an earlier manic burst of creativity. Though he’s speaking in terms of music, many critics might apply that logic to film or TV as well. “Like a boom-time economy, the more fertile and dynamic a genre is, the more it sets itself up for the musical-cultural equivalent of recession: retro,” Reynolds writes. “The sheer creativity of its surge years (the sixties, seventies and parts of the eighties) inevitably made it increasingly irresistible to be re-creative.”
But today’s retromania is also tied to the way young consumers experience pop culture. When I was a kid, I wanted nothing to do with my parents’ music or movies. I needed to carve out my own cultural identity. Today’s kids, thanks to the easy access to Netflix and YouTube, make far less of a distinction between what is old and what is new. With a century of culture just a click away on any computer, young consumers have become the ultimate archivists, just as willing to embrace familiarity as innovation.
What if remakes are primarily a response to a retro consciousness permeating contemporary culture? “Young consumers have become the ultimate archivists, just as willing to embrace familiarity as innovation.”
What if old is the ‘new’ new?
Given the business, aesthetic and consumer state of affairs that suggest ‘similar but different’ is going nowhere soon, what is a screenwriter to do? It’s easy for a professional screenwriter when asked by an aspiring writer, “What should I write,” to go to the default answer: “Be yourself, write something original.” Frankly I wince whenever I hear that, not at the spirit of the answer, but at the absolute lack of help that advice offers as it stands in complete opposition to nearly everything the Hollywood movie business is about.
The reality is this. A screenwriter has two choices: To play the game or not play the game. That is the subject of Part 3 of this series.
For more of Patrick Goldstein’s article, go here.