Men Will Be Webslingers

It's nice to know that certain things that shouldn't change don't change. My posse of ex-art-school buddies and I were able to carve out a slight niche in our respective family/fiancé/job-centered schedules to meet in the Telephone Bar last night to toss back a few and make serious plans for the future, sleeves rolled, elbows on the table. John, who's getting married in a few weeks, set his pint down sharply and leaned forward, gathering us all in with his no-nonsense glare. "So, listen... Spider-Man 3 is out real soon. We're going, right?" Anthony the architect eased back in his chair and smirked. "Dude, you're gonna be on your honeymoon." John's eyebrows shot upwards in dismay, which sent his glasses down his nose an inch. "Yeah, but can't you guys wait a week?" We all cracked up and reassured him. I was a bit surprised, though. "John, I didn't realized you were so excited by this one. Doesn't your cynicism level normally go up with each sequel?"
"Hey man, the second one was better than the first!"
"Oh— yeah?" Wayne the painter sounded doubtful.
"True," I said, "but this one's with Venom. Isn't he more of a Gen X thing?" I exchanged glances with Wayne, who nodded, frowning thoughtfully. John counted off on his fingers. "Dude: Venom. Sandman. Hobgoblin."
"And Gwen Stacy," Anthony pointed out.
"Holy shit, that's right." I had a sudden vision of myself explaining this to my feminist sweetie. ("Honey, we've got to see this movie. Gwen Stacy's gonna be in it."
"Who's that? Some super evil chick?"
"No. She's Peter Parker's original girlfriend. Before Mary Jane. His true love."
"Wait, I'm confused. This is from a comic book?"
"Think of it—— as something on Lifetime." A low blow, trying to appeal to her post-academic indulgences. Wouldn't work.)

Spider-Man is the great equalizer of males, five-year-olds to fifty-year-olds. I realized this back in the heady days leading up to the release of the first movie; there was a sharpness to the air, a charge settling down over NYC like the flush of a coming summer storm— like Spider-Sense. I remember a swank, professional couple in their forties walking past me on the sidewalk. The woman moved briskly, distracted, looking as if she were reeling off a Filofax in her head. Her husband, apparently unencumbered in his business suit and tie, ducked and dodged alongside, jabbering excitedly and firing his web-shooters, fingers twisted into that familiar proto-devil-sign salute. I continued on my way, smiling to myself. I understood. He was resorting to sign language, because she was just not wired to make sense of the words. He was pleading for a change in the schedule, a little niche of time, that's all, to be a webslinger again.

Kicking the Movie Habit

Two of cinema’s die-hard champions of blockbuster entertainment have now gone on record to announce its demise. A while back, sometime between the phenomenal success of The Lord of the Rings and the disappointing returns of King Kong, Peter Jackson claimed to be much more interested in the future of gaming than in the future of movies; indeed, he seems to have begun the transition by taking on the next big game-to-movie project, Halo, as executive producer. And yesterday’s Daily Variety quotes George Lucas at the groundbreaking ceremony for the renamed School of Cinematic Arts at USC:

“We don't want to make movies. We're about to get into television. As far as Lucasfilm is concerned, we've moved away from the feature film thing because it's too expensive and it's too risky. I think the secret to the future is quantity.”

Hold on there, roll back tape. Did the man say this at the groundbreaking of a film school? Well, yes and no. While George is nothing if not perverse, (ask anyone in rank-and-file geekdom), his choice of words bear some examination: he’s not quitting cinema, he’s quitting movies; specifically that, uh, “feature film thing.” The University of Southern California, for that matter, never had a “movie” department; the School of Cinematic Arts was previously known as the USC School of Cinema-Television. The operative concept here is “moving images” on an elemental level; the economic, technical and cultural specifics are transient: mass audiences lining up for tickets and filling theaters are gradually becoming obsolete. Here's Lucas musing on big budgets (something he knows a thing or two about):

“For that same $200 million, I can make 50-60 two-hour movies. That's 120 hours as opposed to two hours. In the future market, that's where it's going to land, because it's going to be all pay-per-view and downloadable.”

And then he gets to the core of his argument, the future of consumer behavior (a subject he's gotten grievously wrong in the past— but he just may be on to something here):

“I don't think anything's going to be a habit anymore. I think people are going to be drawn to a certain medium in their leisure time and they're going to do it because there is a desire to do it at that particular moment in time. Everything is going to be a matter of choice.”

So, Americans are kicking the movie habit, mostly because there are just so many ways out there now to see and to do. Time and again, the first thing that new media rejiggers is language, even as we try to sort out our new behaviors— which I believe will eventually be called “habits.” And so we find ourselves again at a semantics crossroads: perhaps it’s time for ”film,” “cinema” and “movies” to part ways, once and for all.