Like many of you independent film nuts out there, we’re working on raising money to make our film. Some people say this isn’t the time—the economy sucks, investors are jittery and distributors of independent film have contracted. (Though a new independent distributor, Anchor Bay, bucked the trend recently and came on the scene for theatrical distribution. I wish them well.) But maybe that’s the point.
Anytime is a good time for a good film, but maybe now when people need a lift is even better. So far this year, the box office seems to be saying so. As of the end of March, movie revenues were $2.38 billion, up 12 percent from 2008, according to Media By Numbers. Even with higher ticket prices, movie attendance also was up 10.4 percent. Not bad. I’m sure auto dealers and other struggling businesses would welcome that trend right now. Some of us would like to see that for our stock portfolios, that’s for sure.
When times are bad, people won’t—and can’t—buy a new car, but they will welcome a new movie. During the Great Depression (that name was appropriate in so many ways), people would scrape up the 30 cents or so to see a movie. Sitting in the theater may not have helped them pay the mortgage, but it did do them some good. One book describes it like this
“Outside those sacred doors crouched the pale gray wolf of Reality and the Depression. On the skyline the dark, sullen hulk of the steel mills lay silent and smokeless, like some ancient volcano that had burnt itself out, while the natives roamed the empty streets and told wondrous tales of the time when the skies were lit by the fires of the steel crucibles. And there was something that occupied them all, called Work. Even the word “Work” itself had an almost religious, mythological tone.”
That could describe a lot of places today—Michigan or Pittsburgh or Northern Indiana, where this story is set. The quote is from In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash by Jean Shepherd. It’s the book from which that holiday classic and TBS marathoner, A Christmas Story, is adapted.
If you like the movie, you really should read the book. You will see that the screenplay is a skillful adaptation. There’s probably enough left though that they didn’t use for another movie. Was anyone else sad when Darren McGavin died a few years ago? The casting was pitch perfect.
One thing left out was the great chapter on the Orpheum Theater and its showman-owner Leopold Doppler. You get the impression that, at least in Hohman, Indiana, the movie theater was the heart and soul of the town, a place of wonder and relief, during the Depression. Shepherd writes,
“Mr. Doppler operated the Orpheum Theater, a tiny bastion of dreams and fantasies, a fragile light of human aspiration in the howling darkness of the great American Midwest where I festered and grew as a youth. Even now the word “Orpheum” sends tiny shivers of anticipation and excitement up the ventilation pipes of my soul. And Mr. Doppler, like some mythical God, reigned over his magnetic palace of dreams, fighting the good fight alone and uncheered.”
Of a typical moviegoer he writes,
“He scrabbled and scraped week after week to scratch up the price of a ticket…”
I know times are different (someone pointed that out recently when discussing this subject) and movies have a lot more competition with the Internet, videogames and other stuff, but movies seem to be holding their own. And while they have more options, people haven’t changed that much deep down since the Depression. Movies still have their own type of catharsis that people need. Some call it escape, but I don’t think it is. I’ve walked out of the doors of a theater encouraged to handle a few things, or at least in a better state of mind to face them.
So it may be a bit more difficult, but I think there’s no better time to make a film. The risks are great (Haven’t they always been for independent film?), but so are the rewards for you—and your audience. Now, if we can just get those investors onboard.
Enjoy! Scott
Anytime is a good time for a good film, but maybe now when people need a lift is even better. So far this year, the box office seems to be saying so. As of the end of March, movie revenues were $2.38 billion, up 12 percent from 2008, according to Media By Numbers. Even with higher ticket prices, movie attendance also was up 10.4 percent. Not bad. I’m sure auto dealers and other struggling businesses would welcome that trend right now. Some of us would like to see that for our stock portfolios, that’s for sure.
When times are bad, people won’t—and can’t—buy a new car, but they will welcome a new movie. During the Great Depression (that name was appropriate in so many ways), people would scrape up the 30 cents or so to see a movie. Sitting in the theater may not have helped them pay the mortgage, but it did do them some good. One book describes it like this
“Outside those sacred doors crouched the pale gray wolf of Reality and the Depression. On the skyline the dark, sullen hulk of the steel mills lay silent and smokeless, like some ancient volcano that had burnt itself out, while the natives roamed the empty streets and told wondrous tales of the time when the skies were lit by the fires of the steel crucibles. And there was something that occupied them all, called Work. Even the word “Work” itself had an almost religious, mythological tone.”
That could describe a lot of places today—Michigan or Pittsburgh or Northern Indiana, where this story is set. The quote is from In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash by Jean Shepherd. It’s the book from which that holiday classic and TBS marathoner, A Christmas Story, is adapted.
If you like the movie, you really should read the book. You will see that the screenplay is a skillful adaptation. There’s probably enough left though that they didn’t use for another movie. Was anyone else sad when Darren McGavin died a few years ago? The casting was pitch perfect.
One thing left out was the great chapter on the Orpheum Theater and its showman-owner Leopold Doppler. You get the impression that, at least in Hohman, Indiana, the movie theater was the heart and soul of the town, a place of wonder and relief, during the Depression. Shepherd writes,
“Mr. Doppler operated the Orpheum Theater, a tiny bastion of dreams and fantasies, a fragile light of human aspiration in the howling darkness of the great American Midwest where I festered and grew as a youth. Even now the word “Orpheum” sends tiny shivers of anticipation and excitement up the ventilation pipes of my soul. And Mr. Doppler, like some mythical God, reigned over his magnetic palace of dreams, fighting the good fight alone and uncheered.”
Of a typical moviegoer he writes,
“He scrabbled and scraped week after week to scratch up the price of a ticket…”
I know times are different (someone pointed that out recently when discussing this subject) and movies have a lot more competition with the Internet, videogames and other stuff, but movies seem to be holding their own. And while they have more options, people haven’t changed that much deep down since the Depression. Movies still have their own type of catharsis that people need. Some call it escape, but I don’t think it is. I’ve walked out of the doors of a theater encouraged to handle a few things, or at least in a better state of mind to face them.
So it may be a bit more difficult, but I think there’s no better time to make a film. The risks are great (Haven’t they always been for independent film?), but so are the rewards for you—and your audience. Now, if we can just get those investors onboard.
Enjoy! Scott
