One for Them, One for Us
Not every passion project should play in theaters, but Netflix…
Last night, I saw the film Burnt; it was okay. Not bad, not awful, just pure mediocrity. Bradley Cooper is good enough as the bad-boy chef gone clean, but he can’t quite steer the plot through the many clichéd potholes. Which is fine. I actually don’t mind sitting through such movies from time to time. Especially if I like the subject matter — in this case, food.
The issue I have with Burnt is that I saw it in a movie theater. Ridiculous cost aside ($35 for two before popcorn, drinks, etc), it’s clearly not a movie anyone needs to see in a theater. And the masses seem to agree with that assessment, giving Burnt an opening weekend take of a meager $5 million.
Burnt, indeed.
So why was the movie made? Well, because of the aforementioned Cooper. Thanks to recent mega-hits like American Sniper, Cooper can get basically anything he wants greenlit. And, in true Hollywood tradition he used such power to elevate a passion project to the screen.
This is the old “one for them, one for me” system in which Cooper agrees to do some big studio picture that’s all-but-guaranteed to make a lot of money in exchange for a film that’s far from guaranteed but the star really wants to do. Hence, Burnt.
While sitting in the theater yesterday, I couldn’t help but think back to an article in Variety I had read earlier in the day. As Brent Lang writes on the topic of Hollywood actors’ vanity projects:
HBO and Netflix may be the future home of such projects. Actors like Frances McDormand (“Olive Kitteridge”) and Brad Pitt (“War Machine”), as well as filmmakers like Steven Soderbergh (“Behind the Candelabra”) and Cary Fukunaga (“Beasts of No Nation”) have already turned to these platforms to release projects that defy an easy marketing pitch. It’s easy to see the attraction. Both channels have a reputation for quality, access to healthy budgets and adhere to business models that don’t lean heavily on opening weekends.
That’s a good thing. When “Beasts of No Nation” debuted in 31 theaters, it made $51,000. That meagre result would have been catastrophic for a traditional studio. Outwardly, however, Netflix seemed sanguine about paying $12 million for a child soldier drama without commercial appeal. The company’s content chief Ted Sarandos said the film is popular with Netflix members, and the allure of exclusive content was enough to justify turning a theatrical run into a tax write-off.
This makes a lot of sense. Rather than “one for them, one for me” what if the future is “one for them, one for us” — that is, actors make the big-budget spectacles in exchange for the right to make their passion projects and distribute them directly to fans via channels like Netflix or HBO.
But isn’t getting the movie on the big screen part of the allure of passion projects? Maybe, but it’s a double-edged sword. When these movies bomb, they don’t just harm the studios, they harm the stars — who are always just a few bombs away from falling off the A-list. And when you’re off that list, you can kiss all passion projects goodbye.
These other methods of distribution allow for more leeway. And they come with other potential benefits you don’t get with a theatrical release. For example, it’s hard to imagine any big Bradley Cooper fan not watching a film like Burnt during its “opening” on Netflix — certainly if they were already Netflix members, but also if they had to pay $10 (the monthly fee) to watch it in the comfort of their homes. Again, compare that to the cost of going to see the movie in a theater. And then think about everything else you get…
Speaking of, the entire time I was watching Burnt, I couldn’t help but think about how it made me want to watch Jiro Dreams of Sushi again. Or the Netflix show Chef’s Table. Or Big Night. The list goes on. This is where Netflix and the like excel. A movie like Burnt is absolutely perfect for Netflix because it’s lead-gen for so much other content on the service.
This line of thought just continues me down the path of believing that the future of cinema will be a handful of tentpole movies released in theaters and most everything else going direct to fans in their homes (or devices). Which isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it feels perfect for a movie like Burnt.
