AIN’T NO SUNSHINE The Cinema in 2003 Larry Qualls and Daryl Chin s 2003 came to a close, the usual plethora of critics’ awards found themselves usurped by the decision of the Motion Picture Producers Association of A America to disallow the distribution of screeners to its members, and to any organization which adheres to MPAA guidelines (which includes the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences). This became the rallying cry of the Independent Feature Project, as those producers who had created some of the most notable “independent” films of the year tried to find a way to guarantee visibility during award season. This issue soon swamped all discussions of year-end appraisals, as everyone, from critics to filmmakers to studio executives, seemed to weigh in with an opinion on the matter of screeners. Yet, despite this media tempest, the actual situation of film continues to be precarious. As an example, in the summer of 2003 the distribution of films proved even more restrictive, as theatres throughout the United States were block-booked with the endless cycle of sequels that came from the studios (Legally Blonde 2, Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle, Terminator 3, The Matrix Revolutions, X-2: X-Men United, etc.). A number of smaller films, such as the nature documentary Winged Migration and the New Zealand coming-of-age saga Whale Rider, managed to infiltrate the summer doldrums, but the continued conglomeration of distribution and exhibition has brought the motion picture industry to a stultifying crisis. And the issue of the screeners was the rallying cry for those working on the fringes of the industry, the “independent” producers and directors and small distributors. Of course, it helped that the issue became a point of contention that was able to unify many disparate groups, from Miramax on down to the Independent Feature Project [see PAJ 76]. But for those filmmakers who were making truly independent films, the issue of whether or not their films would get any sort of notice from the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences was moot, almost a diversionary tactic to wrest attention from issues of quality, merit, value. By the end of the year, after all the dust had settled on the terrain of the past year, most critics agreed that 2003 hadn’t been such a bad year after all. The usual critics’ awards were announced, the annual ten-best lists were published, and the consensus was that the movies had been able to find ways for talent to flourish. In a matter of 26 ᭿ PAJ 77 (2004), pp. 26–39. © 2004 Performing Arts Journal, Inc. Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/152028104323048223 by guest on 27 September 2021 a few weeks, the crisis regarding screeners, the industry’s fears regarding piracy, the outcry from independent producers and small distributors, had abated almost as quickly as it had erupted, as if a terrible calm had ensued after a natural disaster. A serious examination of the situation of the movies, however, reveals that there is a fundamental transformation occurring, not just in terms of the actual medium, but in terms of how movies are seen and experienced. Obviously, the transformation of digital media has had enormous impact. One change which has not been much discussed has been the shift in the idea of theatrical presentation. Just as live theatre was altered in the last century, as the arena for drama contracted because of its increasing marginalization as a primary public forum, theatres became smaller, acting concentrated on interior process rather than exterior projection, and playwrights focused on psychological rather than social concerns, so cinema has found itself similarly transformed, only what had taken a gradual evolution in at least half a century has been speeded up to less than a decade. The ubiquity of the home video market, first with VHS tapes and now with DVDs, has brought about a collapse of distinction, so that a large part of the audience does not see the difference between watching a movie as a social event, where one attends with others in a theatrical setting, and watching a movie as a solitary occurrence, while in the comfort and the confines of home. There is so much to say about the ways movies have changed, not just in terms of visual clarity and image depth, but in terms of the very idea of movies as a mass medium. Over and over, in all the most thoughtful commentaries on the movies written during the twentieth century, there is the idea that the movies will provide a way for the best of the arts to reach the widest possible audience. By the 1960s, the box office success of such films as Antonioni’s Blow Up (1966), Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde (1967), or Costa-Gavras’s Z (1969) seemed to indicate that the mass audience could turn out for accomplished films with varying degrees of sophistica- tion and difficulty. Yet the increasing split, between the art house audiences and the mass audience, continued, with an accelerating splintering even among art house audiences, as the mass audience was treated to a greater leveling, and specialty audiences were identified and catered to as smaller and smaller niches. During the 1960s, there were art houses and specialty cinemas in every major American city, and there were even (small) theatre chains which sought out art fare. Increasingly, by the 1990s, art houses and specialty cinemas closed, to be replaced by corporate multiplexes, which could not accommodate product from independent sources. This is something that is well known, but it becomes clearer when you meet people from outside those few metropolises which continue to have multiple options for cinematic presentation. To anyone with access to international film, there are certain names that denote significant careers—Abbas Kiarostami, Hou Hsiao-Hsien, Aki Kaurismaki, Im Kwon-taek, Catherine Breillat. Yet, whereas once general audiences were expected to have some knowledge of Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, and Akira Kurosawa, now even the educated audience cannot be expected to know who Chantal Akerman, Patrice Chereau, and Amir Naderi are, if QUALLS and CHIN / Ain’t No Sunshine ᭿ 27 Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/152028104323048223 by guest on 27 September 2021 Zoe Logan, Alexis Arquette, and Steve Braun in The queer-L.A. punk romance Luster, The Trip, a film by Miles Swain depicting a gay directed by Everett Lewis. Photo: couple in Los Angeles during the 1970s and Courtesy TLA Releasing. 1980s. Photo: Courtesy TLA Releasing. Under One Roof, an interracial gay romance Anna May Wong in Piccadilly, the 1929 directed by Todd Wilson. Photo: Courtesy film by E.A. Dupont. Photo: Courtesy TLA Releasing. Milestone Films. Nafas-E Amigh [Deep Breath] by the Jylama [Don’t Cry], a digital feature from Iranian filmmaker Parviz Shabazi. Photo: Kazakhstan directed by Amir Karakulov. Courtesy Montréal World Film Festival. Photo: Courtesy Montréal World Film Festival. 28 ᭿ PAJ 77 Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/152028104323048223 by guest on 27 September 2021 there is no possibility of their work finding any sort of theatrical engagement in most American cities, even though Akerman, Chereau and Naderi have all made films in English. The situation of the independent specialty cinema might be clarified by taking the example of several such theatres in New York City, in particular, Film Forum, Cinema Village, and The Pioneer Theatre. In all three cases, digital projection has been installed, which has allowed for greater possibilities for screenings. But what is being shown? What type of programming is being done by independent theatres, and is it enough to counteract the crush of commercial product? Rather obviously, one of the most important options for programming relates to works on digital video. Frequently, these works are documentaries. Liz Garbus, for example, was able to make several documentaries which were shown this year, such as The Nazi Officer’s Wife and Girlhood; though the subjects were fascinating, Girlhood could be seen as an example of the dangers inherent in the usage of digital video, as the ease of recording allowed for a work to be made without sufficient research. The incredible personalism allowed by digital video could be a liability, yet it proved to be the chief virtue of Josh Pais’s 7th Street, a documentary on the gentrification of 7th Street between Avenues A and C in Manhattan, as Pais recorded the changes in the neighborhood in which he has lived since childhood. Because of digital projection, independent venues such as the Pioneer Theatre, Cinema Village, and Film Forum were able to show these works without the need for filmic transfers, thus easing the post-production costs for these small documentaries. In terms of distribution, some prominent small distributors have made the decision to focus their distribution efforts on the home video market, allowing for brief theatrical runs in some major markets (New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco), but aggressively pursuing the home video market (in VHS and DVD). This is the primary marketing strategy of Film Movement (www.filmmovement.com), which was started by some of the partners in The Shooting Gallery [see PAJ 74], the small production and distribution company which became a major force in independent film of the 1990s but had overextended by the end of the decade. With Film Movement, the hope is that by concentrating on home video distribution rather than theatrical presentation, there will be a more cost-effective way to distribute notable foreign and independent titles. The short theatrical runs are for the purpose of getting the films reviewed, thus enhancing the renown of the films in the collection.