There’s a rich irony that defines 2017 in movies. This year has been one of the worst in terms of box office receipts, with massive turds like Baywatch, Ghost In The Shell, and King Arthur: Legend Of The Sword sinking the majority of the summer season. The recent release of Blade Runner 2049 (I film I liked quite a bit) continues the trend into the winter months, at least as far as North America is concerned. Meanwhile, the independent scene has indulged in artistic risks and a throwback to human stories, an indulgence that is not without fruits, both commercial and critical . Beneath the surface, this is the best year for movies in a long time, thanks in large part to the little renegade hitmakers over at A24.
I remember a friend of mine droning on about how she admires Marvel’s willingness to take risks. When asked what she meant by it, she cited Guardians Of The Galaxy and Black Panther — the first an admittedly weird, space opera backed by Disney and helmed by one-time Troma star James Gunn; the other a superhero film lead by everyone's favorite part of last year’s Captain America: Civil War . I hope you agree with me when I say neither example constitutes praise for risk taking.
I enjoy the MCU very much and I admire their creative confidence and scrupulous planning, but risk does not enter much into it. You want to talk about risk? How about a film that examines the death of post impressionist painter Van Gogh in the form of the world’s first fully painted animated feature. Risk is making a film about derelict bumpkins living in the outskirts of Florida with non-actors tackling the lead roles. Risk is releasing a film that is both an allegory and send-up of theology that drives its point home by showcasing the dismemberment and cannibalization of an infant. Risk is making a feature-length drama about the most insular institution in America.
It’s nice to see that antipathy towards all this franchise cheap-jack cinema noise is being shared between upcoming filmmakers and audiences. They’re sick of being conscripted to the schlock regime and we’re sick of watching all of it. They thought they had us too. That’s what the Emoji movie was — a bunch of fogies setting around an office saying, “Let’s watch these nerds dole out cash to watch a movie with a literal talking turd.”
I implore anyone reading this to go and check out your local independent theatres. The tickets are cheaper and your brain can come inside with you.
