Measures to contain the outbreak of the coronavirus have put a stop to the performing arts; as my colleague Michael Schulman reported, Broadway shows have been suspended, and so have concerts and dance performances, sporting events, readings, museums and art galleries, and more or less any event where people gather in large numbers. It has also led to the postponement of many movie releases, including such high-profile ones as the new James Bond movie (unfortunately titled “No Time to Die”), “A Quiet Place Part II,” and Disney’s “Mulan,” plus the cancellation of screenings at Lincoln Center, MOMA, Anthology Film Archives, and elsewhere. South by Southwest, the New Directors/New Films series, and the Tribeca Film Festival were cancelled or postponed. Strangely, multiplexes still seem to be open—though why people would risk their health and that of others for a viewing of “The Way Back” or “The Invisible Man” is beyond me.
Of all the arts, only literature lends itself more to domestic consumption than movies. Recorded music and theatre and photos of paintings and sculptures are far removed from the physical experience on which the live versions depend; with movies, the image is (more or less) the same, whether consumed in a theatre or at home, in a crowd or alone—and the difference in size is one of degree, not of kind. The proof, of course, is the modern prevalence of streaming, preceded by the prevalence of various forms of home video, all of which were taken by the movie industry as the devil’s tool to wreak the end of movie theatres. (This fear was even the subject of congressional hearings in 1982.)
Read more of The New Yorker’s coverage of the coronavirus crisis.
Spoiler alert: as evidenced by box-office numbers, people like going to the movies, whether in vast numbers, for high-budget superhero movies and children’s movies, or in proportionately impressive numbers, for some art-house and independent films. But it isn’t, for the most part, the theatre itself that’s the attraction; charmless and poorly maintained multiplexes don’t so much recall the glory days of Hollywood studios as the soulless grottoes of Penn Station. People go nonetheless—driven there, in part, by the sheer pleasure of getting out of the house and being sociable but also, in large part, by the sheer fact of exclusivity, the desire to see a movie while it’s still in its bubble of critical discourse, online chatter, and in-person enthusiasm.
If there’s any doubt that such exclusivity is crucial, consider that the two major multiplex chains, Regal and AMC, book only films that guarantee they won’t be available on streaming or in any other home-video format for a ninety-day period. This is why Netflix hasn’t managed to get its movies, even high-profile ones, such as “The Irishman” and “Marriage Story,” into large-scale release.
Grim jokes have been flying around that the coronavirus is sponsored by Netflix; it’s apparent that streaming will take the place of much—maybe most, maybe all—theatrical viewing for a while and will result in the delay, if not the cancellation, of many movie releases, film festivals, and special series that would be on the front lines of introducing new films to the public. When South by Southwest was cancelled, it surprised me that there wasn’t an instant switch to an online version that would at least get movies in competition to the jurors, who could make their choices remotely, and even to badge holders (including critics), who could nonetheless start festival films on a launch that would carry over into distribution and release when the crisis has passed.
Four years ago, almost to the day, Brent Lang reported, in Variety, about a startup, launched by Sean Parker (better known as the guy played by Justin Timberlake in “The Social Network”) and Prem Akkaraju, called Screening Room, that would break down the barrier between new theatrical releases and home video, offering new movies in the home, for fifty dollars, at the same time as they open in theatres. The project’s backers included Steven Spielberg, Peter Jackson, and J. J. Abrams. The underlying idea behind it appeared to be twofold: first, to preserve the concept of paying to see a particular movie rather than paying for a subscription to a platform; second, to maintain the price point of theatrical viewing, where (at least in New York), fifty dollars doesn’t even buy three tickets. For a person watching alone, the price is ridiculous, except for a movie that one plans to see twice or more in one weekend (I’ve been that person); for a family of four, it’s almost a bargain. Despite the project’s prominent supporters, it ended, reportedly because of exhibitors’ qualms and studios’ differences.
The paradox of public events in this strange moment is that their success is measured by crowds; exactly the kinds of movies that have their commercial success riding on high and quick box-office return are the ones that now, in the face of a pandemic, pose the greatest threat of contagion. (I’ve joked that some of the movies I like have always created social distancing, in the form of largely empty theatres.) The result, at the moment, is that some new movies are on hold, and ones already in theatres are in trouble. (For instance, a great new independent film, Eliza Hittman’s “Never Rarely Sometimes Always,” opens today.) On the one hand, it seems like a natural turn, on the part of film distributors, to find a way to get new movies to viewers at home, now that home viewing is more or less all there is. On the other hand, I also suspect that studios, distributors, and festival directors are unlikely to let what everyone hopes may be only a short-term crisis lead to fundamental, even permanent, changes in viewing habits. In the meantime, there’s no shortage of great movies, recent and classic, to discover or revisit online.
A Guide to the Coronavirus
How people cope and create new customs amid a pandemic.
What it means to contain and mitigate the coronavirus outbreak.
How much of the world is likely to be quarantined?
Donald Trump in the time of coronavirus.
The coronavirus is likely to spread for more than a year before a vaccine could be widely available.
We are all irrational panic shoppers.
The strange terror of watching the coronavirus take Rome.
How pandemics change history.
Let’s block ads! (Why?)
