The Business of Entertainment (3 volume set)

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The Business of Entertainment

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The Business of Entertainment VOLUME 1

Movies

Edited by Robert C. Sickels

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The business of entertainment / edited by Robert C. Sickels. p. cm. — (Praeger perspectives) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978– 0 –275–99838–7 (set: alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–275–99840–0 (vol. 1 : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–275–99842–4 (vol. 2 : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–275–99844–8 (vol. 3 : alk. paper) 1. Performing arts. 2. Performing arts—Economic aspects. I. Sickels, Robert. PN1584.B87 2009 790.2—dc22 2008030435 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 2009 by Robert C. Sickels All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2008030435 ISBN: 978–0–275–99838–7 (set) 978–0–275–99840–0 (vol. 1) 978–0–275–99842–4 (vol. 2) 978–0–275–99844–8 (vol. 3) First published in 2009 Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.greenwood.com Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

I stop somewhere waiting for you. —Walt Whitman

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Contents

Preface by Robert C. Sickels Acknowledgments

 1  2  3

xiii Behind the Greenlight: Why Hollywood Makes the Films It Makes Jeffrey Hirschberg

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The Six Faces of Piracy: Global Media Distribution from Below Ramon Lobato

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KingKong.com versus LOLTheMovie.com: Toward a Framework of Corporate and Independent Online Film Promotion Mary P. Erickson

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Reacting Synergistically: Batman and Time Warner Kimberly A. Owczarski

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“You believe in pirates, of course . . .”: Disney’s Commodification and “Closure” of Pirates of the Caribbean Anne H. Petersen

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The Business of Race in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Sue J. Kim

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77 93

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 7  8  9

Contents

Dream Worlds: Film-Game Franchising and Narrative Form Harry Brown

111

Co-Opting “Independence”: Hollywood’s Marketing Label Mary P. Erickson

129

Entertainment in the Margins of the American Film Industry: “Orion Pictures Presents a Filmhaus Production of a David Mamet Film” Yannis Tzioumakis

 10 Piercing Steven Soderbergh’s Bubble

153 179

R. Colin Tait

 11 Celebrity Juice, Not from Concentrate: Perez Hilton, Gossip Blogs, and the New Star Production Anne H. Petersen

195

 12 Big Bucks and Fake Tears: Celebrity Journalism’s Hyperreality Zachary Snider

217

About the Editor and Contributors

233

Index

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Preface

The business of entertainment has always been in constant flux, but at the present moment the speed at which change is occurring is singularly unprecedented. As the entertainment industry seeks to evolve and adapt in light of the ascendance of all things digital, 100 years worth of structures and systems appear to be falling away like so much dross. The concomitantly nascent era of “new media,” so the assumption goes, must also by definition mean the death of old media. And in some ways this is true, at least as it concerns the various physical forms of older media such as records and cassettes, VHS tapes, analog television broadcasts, and newspapers actually made of paper. These sorts of things are either already long dead or at best replicating the experience of Homo habilis laying eyes on Homo erectus for the first time; the new era most certainly will not go well for them. In place of the old totems come the new ones—iTunes, HDTV, TiVo, Digital Cinema, and so on—seemingly disparate but unified by their digital make-ups. And this digital nature and the accompanying ease with which music, films, and TV shows can be accessed and made portable allows the new media to be “free.” But free in what sense of the word? Certainly free as concerns the unfettering of the former corporeal state of media. While we need something tangible on which to view it—made unbelievably simple by the proliferation of iPods and like devices—media can be converted into digital ones and zeroes and delivered via the ether almost anywhere in the world at any time. New media is portable and near infinitely accessible and only becoming more so as technology improves, just as the devices upon which we store our information

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grow increasingly infinitesimal (e.g., the iPod Nano). But of greater concern, at least to the giant international media conglomerates that own the rights to so much of what the entertainment industry produces, is the perception that media is actually free —that payment is neither required nor necessary, that the natural state of entertainment is that it should be wholly accessible entirely without cost. This way of thinking is increasingly prevalent in younger consumers, who bristle at paying 99¢ on iTunes for a song or $4 to their cable provider for a movie. Why bother paying for things when you can download them for nothing online with any number of free, very user-friendly, and increasingly hard to trace technologies? And this line of thinking rightfully scares the bejeezus out of the media congloms whose financial lifeblood emanates from their stranglehold on the distribution of their subsidiaries’ products. If, as Michael Wolff claims, “[t]he age of media-distribution monopolies is over,”1 then what comes next? And so the rush is on to answer this and other questions, although I would argue that the desire to bury the old business methods as being somehow inapplicable to new media is, as yet, premature. Yes, it does seem as though the old models aren’t efficient in the present moment and that companies are struggling to hit upon new ones that will be equally profitable. This is especially true as concerns just how the Internet will earn income for content providers. And, in fact, perhaps with the exponentially burgeoning number of opportunities for consumers to acquire and view their media, even the attempt to replicate what worked before is questionable. And yet it persists. The ubiquitously adopted concept of media convergence —when a company spreads the promotion and sales of a product across multiple subsidiaries— has yet to prove as profitable as had been hoped, but it’s not like money hasn’t been made. When Sony can make all the Spider-Man movies, which feature music by Sony BMG recording artists, and then sell soundtrack CDs or digital downloads, which can be played on Sony CD players, or ripped for play on a Sony MP3 Walkman, or converted into ring tones for use on a Sony Ericsson cell phone, and sell DVDs to be played on Sony DVD players, and sell video games to be played on Sony PlayStations, and license the images of Spiderman and accompanying characters to be featured on toys, fast food, and any number of other objects—all of which equals billions for the parent company’s bottom line—something is working out as planned. So, it’s no surprise that new media is quickly being bought up not just by other new companies but by the old ones as well—for example, Google owns YouTube while Fox News Corp. now counts MySpace among its subsidiaries. And while they’ve yet to capitalize on just how to maximize profits from these kinds of things or to corner the market on the distribution avenues for new media, it’s impossible to dismiss out of hand the idea that they will. After all, previous innovations and revolutions in the entertainment industry that were supposed to make the companies of old uncompetitive dinosaurs in the

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end only resulted in their becoming bigger and more omnivorous than ever. Who’s to say it won’t happen again? And while it’s fascinating to prognosticate what kinds of industrial changes the latest moment of revolution will result in for the companies involved, what often goes unmentioned in so many breathless glossy magazine features on industry tycoons is what this means for the many artistic folks working in the industry. The same tensions that have always been present between creators and companies remain, none more vivid than the question of whether or not the eternal conflict between art and commerce can ever be peaceably resolved, especially in light of the awesome international dominance of the so-called big six contemporary media conglomerates—Fox, Disney, General Electric, Viacom, Time Warner, and Sony—which control upwards of 90 percent of the U.S. entertainment industry. The creation of entertainment media is the provenance of the artistically minded, whereas the widespread dissemination of their work is the bailiwick of so many Ivy League–trained MBAs. But the digital renaissance has allowed creators more control over their work, especially as concerns making and distributing their art outside of traditional systems. As artists gain more control over their work, how will the media conglomerates, which are always looking to increase the size of their piece of the pie, seek to consolidate their power, and how will this effect what gets made and seen and heard and what doesn’t? How will art and commerce intersect differently in the digital age? And what will the results of their collision ultimately mean for consumers, whose lives are increasingly ensconced in an omnipresent and immediate entertainment industry? While it’s clear that the entertainment industry is once again going through one of its periodic upheavals, what that means is only now beginning to be debated. Are we really going into a new era in which all the old models cease to apply, or will the old behemoths weather yet another storm only to once again emerge intact and even larger than they were in previous incarnations? And how will artists trying to maintain their integrity and beliefs reconcile their visions with those of the corporate entities for which they must almost certainly work should they want their creations ever to be seen by a larger audience? It’s the answers to these questions with which the various authors contributing to The Business of Entertainment: Movies grapple. In the opening chapter, “Behind the Greenlight: Why Hollywood Makes the Films It Makes,” Jeffrey Hirschberg lays out what motivates the thought process behind the kinds of films that Hollywood most often produces. This is followed by Ramon Lobato’s “The Six Faces of Piracy: Global Media Distribution from Below,” which eloquently argues that “piracy is not only a form of deviant behavior but may also offer routes to knowledge, development, and citizenship.” Next is Mary P. Erickson’s “KingKong.com versus LOLTheMovie.com: Toward a Framework of Corporate and Independent Online Film Promotion,” in which she explores the history and meaning of

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online marketing campaigns for studio films and their independent counterparts. Kimberly A. Owczarski’s “Reacting Synergistically: Batman and Time Warner” examines a representative case of how a major media conglomerate uses a “tent-pole” film to spread product throughout its various subsidiaries. Likewise, Anne H. Petersen’s “ ‘You believe in pirates, of course . . .’: Disney’s Commodification and ‘Closure’ of Pirates of the Caribbean” details how Disney combined history and fantasy to create a new flagship corporate commodity rooted in society’s psyche. In “The Business of Race in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy,” Sue J. Kim discusses ways in which the LOTR films exemplify problems with our understanding of race and how the business of filmic entertainment relies on such distortions. Harry Brown’s “Dream Worlds: Film-Game Franchising and Narrative Form” fascinatingly discusses the convergence of Lucasfilm’s filmmaking and game design branches and what that might mean for the future of entertainment. Erickson’s “CoOpting ‘Independence’: Hollywood’s Marketing Label” comes next, and in it she elucidates the mirage of “independent” filmmaking, which she convincingly claims is now more often than not just a part of the marketing plans of major studios. But independent films financed primarily by studios outside the dominant system surely did once exist, as is clear in Yannis Tzioumakis’s “Entertainment in the Margins of the American Film Industry: ‘Orion Pictures Presents a Filmhaus Production of a David Mamet Film,’ ” in which he skillfully recounts the story behind the making of Mamet’s seminal indy film. And perhaps there’s hope for independent film yet, as convincingly posited in R. Colin Tait’s “Piercing Steven Soderbergh’s Bubble,” in which he discusses the possible industrial impact of the multiplatform day and date release of Soderbergh’s film. Finally, the book’s last two essays, Petersen’s “Celebrity Juice, Not from Concentrate: Perez Hilton, Gossip Blogs, and the New Star Production” and Zachary Snider’s “Big Bucks and Fake Tears: Celebrity Journalism’s Hyperreality,” forcefully, and at times hilariously, offer insight into what celebrity has come to mean in contemporary culture. Ultimately, it is our hope that these essays will serve to introduce their readers to the rich and myriad array of issues facing the contemporary film industry and how they might play out on a worldwide cultural stage. And perhaps they will also contribute to new ways of thinking about and researching the business of entertainment as it applies to the movies and what they continue to mean in a rapidly changing industry and world. Robert C. Sickels NOTE 1. Michael Wolff, “The Best of Enemies,” Vanity Fair, April 2008, 134.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks are due to my editor at Praeger Publishers, Jeff Olson, for his patience, invaluable input, and quality baseball talk, even if he is a Red Sox fan. Thanks are also due to Praeger’s Nick Philipson and Lindsay Claire, who helped immensely in getting this project off the ground and seeing it through to completion. Special thanks are also due to all the authors who contributed their pieces to these collections; I am very grateful and appreciative. I’d also like to thank Professor Michael Branch of the University of Nevada, Reno, for his tireless guidance, inspiration, and friendship over the years; he showed me a sterling path that I’ve tried my best to follow. Thanks to Whitman College and the support of my colleagues and friends here, especially Robert Withycombe and Jana Byars. And thanks to my dad, who taught me to always do your work and don’t make excuses, and to my mom, who always had time to take me to a movie or buy me a book. Lastly, thanks to my kids, Tallulah and Dutch, who put up with me throughout what was a long and arduous process.

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chapter 1

Behind the Greenlight: Why Hollywood Makes the Films It Makes Jeffrey Hirschberg

CUTTING THE $100 MILLION CHECK Have you ever sat in a movie theater and quietly asked yourself, “How in the world did this film get made?” Me, too. That’s why I wanted to delve into the underbelly of the studio system to explore that all-elusive decision to place a feature film into production, aptly called a “greenlight.” Put simply, when a studio issues a greenlight for a feature film designated for wide release in North America (typically, there are only one or two executives at each studio who yield such power), the studio is pledging, on average, over $100 million.1 That’s quite a sum, especially when one considers the abysmal failure rate experienced by the average Hollywood feature film. (According to Daily Variety, the research firm Global Media Intelligence says that “production costs for mid- to big-budget movies have risen much faster than revenues over the past few years, leaving the studios’ business model deep in the red.”)2 It should be noted there are different decision-making processes employed when television and cable networks decide whether or not a series or “Madefor-TV” movie goes into production or when a studio decides whether or not to make a movie designated “Direct to DVD.” This chapter, however, will focus on feature films intended for theatrical release in North America and beyond. THE BLUEPRINT It often is stated that the blueprint for any film is the screenplay. A featurelength screenplay, which typically runs between 90 and 120 pages, is the

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linchpin for a studio film project. It is the screenplay that inevitably attracts “elements” (a director and/or a star) to a project, and those elements in their totality assist a studio in deciding whether or not it is prepared to write that astounding check for $100 million. Even though screenplays are frequently the starting point of a feature film project (some projects simply begin with an idea, predictably referred to as a “pitch”), the journey a script takes from 120 pieces of paper to an internationally released feature film is as unique as the screenplay itself. In fact, some scripts are purchased with the understanding that a studio is interested not only in greenlighting the project but also putting it on the fast track. For instance, on April 14, 2004, Daily Variety reported that a screenplay titled The Passion of the Ark sold for $1.5 million against $2.5 million to Columbia Pictures (in this case, the writers were paid $1.5 million for their script and would receive an additional $1 million if the script went into production—an extremely high sale price in the world of Hollywood screenwriters). The script, written by Bobby Florsheim and Josh Stolberg, is a modern-day tale of a man approached by God to build an ark to save the world from a second flood. A month later, Daily Variety ran the following story: Sony Pictures Entertainment, Universal Pictures and Spyglass are in talks to mount a Bruce Almighty sequel based on the Bobby Florsheim/Josh Stolberg script The Passion of the Ark. Talks are just getting under way, but the plan is to court Jim Carrey to reprise and to have Tom Shadyac return as director . . . Turning a free-standing script into a sequel is not unprecedented. After fruitless attempts to make a third installment of Die Hard, Fox finally took the Jonathan Hensleigh’s script Simon Says and redrafted it as a vehicle for Bruce Willis’ John McClane cop character.3

In this case, even though The Passion of the Ark was written as a standalone original script, Universal Pictures saw the potential to modify the screenplay into a sequel for Bruce Almighty —a comedy that grossed $485 million worldwide.4 The studio undoubtedly sensed that the screenplay for The Passion of the Ark could benefit from a built-in audience (discussed later in this chapter) and thus gave the picture a greenlight. But Universal did not get the star they originally wanted. Jim Carrey passed on the project, and the studio instead hired Steve Carell in the starring role. While not as bankable a star as Carrey, Carell was on a positive career trajectory, mostly due to a hit series on NBC (The Office) and a well-reviewed and financially successful recent feature film (The 40 Year Old Virgin). But did the greenlight pay off ? On Monday, June 25, 2007, Daily Variety provided its assessment of the film’s opening weekend: Evan is the first sequel of the summer to open well below previous installments. Pic, starring Carell instead of Carrey, bowed to $32.2 million, less

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than half of the $68 million Bruce took in its 2003 opening. Still, the film is hardly sunk. Evan did finish the weekend at No. 1 and, pointing to positive exit polls and cinema scores, U execs say they expect the film to have good word of mouth and strong legs. They also report that auds were fairly evenly divided between families and adults, as well as between the religious and nonreligious. What’s causing U the biggest migraine is Evan’s cause celebre status as the most expensive comedy ever made. The minute word of the budget—estimated to be $175 million—began circulating, the studio knew it would be fighting an uphill battle, despite the fact that U had a co-financing partner in Relativity Media.5

It is worth noting that Relativity Media is one of several new private film financier/hedge fund partners that help defray the cost of big budget studio pictures. According to The Hollywood Reporter, “The emergence of the hedge fund, a form of investment company that enjoys wide latitude as to where it can place its money, has created millions of dollars in capital that is now being made available to the entertainment industry. Experts also note that the recent slowdowns of real estate and the stock market in delivering solid returns on investment have helped shift Wall Street’s focus to Hollywood.”6 So, what happened to Evan Almighty? As of August 15, 2007, the film has generated only $97 million in its U.S. theatrical release—an enviable gross for most films, but a disappointment for a film that reportedly cost $175 million to produce, excluding marketing costs.7 Having said that, Evan Almighty will still generate revenue from other countries as well as alternate distribution outlets (e.g., DVD rentals). So, did Universal Pictures make a prudent decision in greenlighting Evan Almighty? The proverbial jury is still out. As you have seen, a million dollar script does not necessarily equate to a financially successful film. And, what about the value of a major movie star in a film? Today, Julia Roberts may be the most likeable, bankable female star in the world, but that’s today. Tomorrow, no one knows for sure. In any event, the total value of the elements attached to a screenplay play an enormous role in a studio’s decision-making process. This high stakes Texas Hold’em game of motion pictures begs the obvious questions: Why do Hollywood studios choose to make certain films and deny others the light of day? What screenplays are worthy of attaching a check for $100 million? Is it as simple as, “Tom Hanks or Julia Roberts are onboard”? Or, “The first two Shrek films grossed over a billion dollars. How can we not make Shrek The Third ?”8 In some cases, greenlighting a film seems frightfully obvious. Or is it? Let’s pretend you are the president of TriStar Pictures in the late 1980s. One of your trusted development executives (a generic term for studio folks who are charged with acquiring and developing screenplays) bursts into your office and merrily exclaims, “We got Dustin Hoffman, Sean Connery, and Matthew Broderick in a three-generation mob comedy. And better yet,

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Sidney Lumet (Dog Day Afternoon, Network, and The Verdict) is going to direct!” If you were sitting in the presidential suite of TriStar on that fateful day, chances are you would have greenlit the film in question as fast as you can say, “Oscar.” But, when the film finally becomes Family Business (1989) and generates only $12.2 million in domestic box office receipts and primarily negative reviews, one must wonder: Does the concept of an obvious greenlight—in other words, a safe bet for your $100 million—even exist?9 It is the goal of this chapter to explore such questions and posit some theories as to why Hollywood bets tens of millions of dollars on some projects and passes on others. But first, as Carl Sagan was fond of exclaiming, “You have to know the past to understand the present.”10 A PASSION FOR THE PICTURES Hollywood was “invented,” for lack of a better term, by seven men of Eastern European descent in the 1920s who saw an opportunity to bring entertainment to the populous while enabling those individuals to assimilate seamlessly into the upper crust of American society. These visionaries— Harry Cohn, William Fox, Carl Laemmle, Louis B. Mayer, Jack and Harry Warner, and Adolph Zukor—and the story of their rise to fame and fortune is told meticulously in Neal Gabler’s award-winning book An Empire of Their Own.11 What process did these founders of Hollywood use to choose which screenplays were made into motion pictures and which screenplays would forever collect dust on a bookshelf tucked away in a bungalow on the studio lot? Is it possible that the global entertainment conglomerates of today can learn from their forefathers? On Jul 9, 2007, I had the opportunity to interview Gabler for this chapter. All subsequent quotes from Gabler are taken from this interview. His insights into the decision-making process of the Hollywood moguls helps inform us on how motion pictures are greenlit today. When one looks at the business models of today versus yesteryear, a glaring difference arises in terms of the distribution of feature films. “Years ago, each individual film was not sent out into the marketplace with marketing support to attract an audience,” says Gabler. “The reason for this was because, with the exception of Universal, virtually every studio owned firstrun theaters in every major market.” So, in stark contrast to today—where the Hollywood studios must negotiate with third parties that exhibit their films—the Moguls and the theaters were one in the same. This business model would begin to unravel with the Consent Decree of 1940 —a decision that would eventually prohibit Hollywood studios from owning theater chains, as expressed in The United States v. Paramount Pictures in 1948. The Decree and subsequent U.S. Supreme Court decision was a major blow to the Moguls and a central factor in the fall of the studio

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system. The fact that today’s business atmosphere requires studios to work with third-party exhibitors is just one of the many dynamics that separates decision making in the past from the present. So, what was the impact of this vertical integration—the studios’ ability to control every step along the supply chain? For one, the Moguls were able to choose the films they wanted to make without regard to third-party exhibitors. Because they believed their instincts were in line with what the public at large wanted, greenlighting decisions were often based on nothing more than the desires of the founders of each studio. Today, the process is much more complex (to be discussed later in the chapter). In addition, there was an emotional, ego-laden element to the Moguls’ decision-making process in that their name often was up on the screen. In other words, when Louis B. Mayer greenlit a film, he put his personal reputation on the line. In addition, the Moguls were very interested in making films that impacted the status of their studios and, thus, their own personal status. “The Moguls focused on quality pictures,” says Gabler, “not necessarily because they had an overwhelming desire to make great movies; rather, psychologically, they understood that great films were the surest way to raise their status. If they could raise the status of their motion pictures, they could raise their own status. They were very concerned with how they would be regarded.” There were two primary ways in which the Moguls were able to achieve status with their motion pictures: (1) winning Academy Awards (the first Academy Awards were handed out on May 16, 1929) and (2) attracting new audiences. Adds Gabler, “When movies began, it’s no secret that they made their chief appeal to immigrants and working class. In the 1920s, however, the major transformation of the motion picture industry was the attraction of the middle class.” Thus, the Hollywood studios were able to grow their audience base and therefore their prominence, or status. The Moguls invented the concept of motion pictures as mass entertainment—a notion taken for granted today—with the goal of legitimizing an industry that previously was regarded as low-class entertainment. Today, while the executives who run the major Hollywood studios have much less of an emotional investment in their films, they have other pressures that are perhaps more ominous: namely, to create a perpetual flow of hits that will generate a constant stream of revenue to their parent companies, thus serving the goals of the corporation and its shareholders. Finally, the Moguls had a far greater captive audience than the studio chiefs of today. Says Gabler, “Back in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, Americans didn’t just go to a movie, they went to the movies—and often. Back in those days, over 110 million Americans typically went to the movies every week. And, there weren’t competitors for their attention like there are today in the form of television, the Internet, iPods, video games, and the like.” In contrast to today, the studio heads in the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s relied more on their instincts

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rather than the multitude of factors that affect studio heads in today’s complex global economy. “The Moguls were substantial stockholders in the companies they founded,” says Gabler, “and they had the power and authority to make the pictures they wanted to make.” And while they relied on their gut instincts to make films they felt would increase the status of their studios and themselves, there was another factor that influenced the types of films the Moguls decided to make: movies that celebrated America and its ideals. According to Gabler, “Ever since The Jazz Singer, many studio films were explicitly about rejecting one’s ethnicity or religion and accepting America. Assimilation was a topic that was very much on the minds of the people who ran Hollywood and had an effect on the films they decided to make. The Moguls idealized America and then defined the images of America.” GREENLIGHTING TODAY The decision-making process in Hollywood has undergone a metamorphosis since the days of the Moguls. Today, the studios are horizontally integrated, global empires with interests in film, television, the Internet, video games, and so forth. Consider, for instance, Viacom and its modern-day mogul Sumner Redstone. According to Redstone’s official bio, “Sumner M. Redstone serves as Chairman of the Board of both Viacom and CBS Corporation, roles he assumed after the separation of Viacom into two publicly traded companies, which occurred at the end of 2005. Mr. Redstone is the controlling shareholder of both companies.”12 A careful look at Redstone’s media universe (comprised of Viacom and CBS) would make the moguls of yesteryear green with envy. Television holdings include: • • • •

BET Networks CBS Television Network The CW MTV Networks (including Comedy Central, Nickelodeon, Spike TV, TV Land, and VH1) • Showtime Networks

Filmed entertainment holdings include: • • • • • •

Paramount Pictures Corporation DreamWorks Studios MTV Films Nickelodeon Movies Paramount Home Entertainment Paramount Vantage

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Publishing holdings include: • Simon & Schuster

While Redstone’s empire does not include theater chains, his ability to synergistically produce and market a feature film via Hollywood studios, broadcast networks, cable networks, and publishing companies is extraordinary. This is the Hollywood of the twenty-first century—a Hollywood with global production and distribution systems across all media; a Hollywood that lobbies Washington and the world via the Motion Picture Association of America and its international counterpart, the Motion Picture Association; a Hollywood the Moguls could never have imagined. While the business models of today are far more complicated than the ones enjoyed by the Moguls, many of the fundamentals in deciding whether or not a film gets made are as timeless as storytelling itself: Will this story hit an emotional chord with a wide audience? Does it feature a hero who is relatable —someone the audience will root for? Is there an overarching lesson—a global theme that touches a part of our own morality and core beliefs? Will it make us laugh, cry, think, or sit forward in anticipation of what will happen next? These are only a few of the questions that studio chiefs have asked themselves for as long as feature films have existed. One of the most significant factors that affect the studio chiefs of today before issuing a greenlight is the subject of marketing. Prior to issuing a greenlight, studios want to understand how to market the film and to whom. One of the tools employed is the Four Quadrants (see Table 1.1). These Quadrants, as depicted in Table 1.1, are critical for studios to determine how they will spend their marketing dollars, often referred to as “P&A” (prints & advertising). As one can imagine, the ultimate film in terms of potential for financial success is one that effectively hits all Four Quadrants. For instance, consider the library of films created by Pixar Entertainment. Pixar has created eight of the most successful animated films of all time: Toy Story, A Bug’s Life, Toy Story 2, Monsters, Inc., Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Cars, and Ratatouille. The studio has won 20 Academy Awards, and its seven films have grossed more than $3.5 billion at the worldwide box office to date.13 All of the company’s films have had one key aspect in common: They successfully hit all Four

Table 1.1 The Four Quadrants Male

Female

Under 25 Over 25

Under 25 Over 25

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Quadrants—which means that Pixar has effectively produced more than just children’s movies (that appeal to the Male and Female Under 25 Quadrants). They have produced family films that children and adults enjoy equally. A simple concept? Definitely. A difficult goal to achieve? An understatement of epic proportions. To the president of a Hollywood studio, a film that successfully targets all Four Quadrants equals revenue . . . and a lot of it. So, if a studio chief truly believes she has a Four Quadrant film on her hands, cutting a $100 million check may not be as risky as one might think. Having said that, studios often make many films that do not hit all Four Quadrants. For instance, Lionsgate’s popular Saw franchise (Saw, Saw II, and Saw III ), has generated over $400 million in box office receipts and sold over 15 million DVD units while primarily being targeted toward the Male Under 25 Quadrant (and, to a lesser extent, the Female Under 25 Quadrant).14 Clearly, the modest budget of a horror film sans major stars (who often require gross profit participation) was an attractive combination for Lionsgate that has paid off. While the studio bosses of yesteryear listened more often to their own instincts than market research, today’s global publicly traded entertainment conglomerates must answer to higher authorities: impatient Boards of Directors and anxious shareholders. The financial stakes are simply too high . . . and they are only getting higher. So, when it comes to greenlighting films, what is the impact of a corporate structure that is beholden to daily stock prices and quarterly reports? If you ran a Hollywood studio, would you bet your career on greenlighting “Script A” over “Script B” without sufficient quantitative information by which you can make an informed decision? That’s where marketing comes into the decision-making process. THE POWER OF MARKETING When it comes to Hollywood marketing, Peter Adee has seen it all. A former executive at The Walt Disney Company, DreamWorks, Universal, and MGM, Adee currently is the President of Worldwide Theatrical Marketing, Distribution & New Media for Overture Films (a division of Starz Entertainment). I interviewed Adee for this piece on July 18, 2007. All subsequent quotes from him come from this interview. Adee states that Hollywood films can be divided into three categories: (1) under $30 million, (2) mid-range films budgeted between about $30 million and $70 million, and (3) “tentpole” films that typically run over $100 million (e.g., summer blockbusters and sequels that, while expensive, are “event movies” designed to reach a mass audience and generate hefty ancillary revenue on a global scale). But, if you’re a studio chief, you aren’t done yet. Added to these production costs are P&A costs. Adds Adee, “For the average theatrical film that is released wide, you can usually add another $40 million to the cost of the production on order to effectively market the picture.”

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Even though those numbers can be daunting, a studio must not simply look at a film’s financial prospects in domestic theatrical distribution. Another important factor in assessing a film’s success is the global shelf life of the property. “For instance,” says Adee, “how much revenue will be generated from home entertainment, free TV, pay TV, international outlets, and payper-view in hotels and airlines? All of these issues will influence a studio’s decision-making process to greenlight a film.” The Hollywood studios of today truly serve an international audience. According to Adee, about half of the average film’s revenue is generated from countries other than the United States. So, how does a film’s international prospects impact studio decision making? “As an example,” says Adee, “we do know that action films play better internationally, especially in Asia.” While the marketing department plays an important role in the greenlighting of films, marketers are not usually brought to the table until the screenplay has been purchased and there is potential talent attached. Adee explains, “What the studios do is develop projects for a long period of time, then have a greenlight meeting where marketing (as well as other groups) give their opinions as to how much revenue they feel the particular project will generate. That said, greenlighting a film is a process that is constantly in flux.” Even if marketers don’t necessarily have the last word, that doesn’t mean the discipline is not critical to greenlighting. “Studio chiefs generally have a marketing point-of-view going into the decision-making process,” says Adee. “They have to know if they are going to reach an audience, so studios will often make a movie with a specific audience in mind or they think they will get all audiences—thus, a Four Quadrant movie. The bottom line is that if a studio greenlights a movie, they better have a very good understanding as to who they think is going to see it.” The frenetic pace created by the greenlighting, production, and marketing processes must be executed with perfect precision because there is little room for error. If a large consumer company spends $100 million on a new product, there is usually time to build and grow the product’s brand with consumers. Not the case in the high-stakes world of Hollywood. “In Hollywood, we don’t have the luxury of building a brand over a long period of time,” says Adee. “We have Friday night of the opening weekend. That’s it. The first few days of a film’s release will determine if that movie is going to be successful. By utilizing exit polling—which tells the studio how much the audience likes the film—and historical models, the studio has a pretty good sense of how much a film will make during its run based on the first weekend’s gross.” Studios can make such predictions because of the historic first weekend gross multiplier that has been used. For instance, according to Adee, the multiplier used to be about four for the average movie. So, if a film enjoyed an opening weekend of $25 million, it should have expected to gross about

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$100 in the domestic theatrical market. That number, however, is shrinking. “Today, the multiplier is about three,” adds Adee, “and no one is sure if the industry has trained more of the audience to go to a movie on its opening weekend—thus precipitating a larger fall-off—or if there is another factor we have yet to discover.” It should be noted that occasionally there are films that defy this methodology by starting modestly and actually building an audience over time. Adee points out My Big Fat Greek Wedding (which grossed over $240 million domestically) as a film that defied the multiplier theory, but he acknowledges that the film was an anomaly.15 It has been said that “the planets must align” in order for a film to be packaged with the right elements, greenlit, and successfully marketed to a wide audience. An example of this synergy came to fruition with Universal Pictures’ The Fast and Furious (2001). Adee, who was the head of marketing for the film’s campaign, explains: “The picture was not made for a great deal of money. But, when we test screened it in Sacramento the audience loved it. We originally had planned to release the movie in the spring, but after the test screening, Stacey Snider [the Chairman of Universal] decided to move the release date to June, which is a very competitive time of the year. Since we had to compete against all of the other summer releases, we significantly upped our marketing spend for the film, which resulted in a strong box office [The Fast and the Furious earned over $175 million in global box office receipts].16 This project was even more satisfying, in light of the fact that the film did not even feature any major stars at the time. Marketing really had an impact on the film’s performance.” The bottom line is that even with the right script, talent, budget, and marketing campaign, getting a movie made will always be a Herculean achievement. “It’s so hard to keep all of the parts moving in the right direction,” says Adee. “Everything is in flux. There are a lot of people who have a vested interested in a movie being made—production executives, producers, actors, writers, and directors to name a few—so these constituent groups will always be pushing the studio to say yes, and ultimately it is up to the Chairman of the studio to greenlight a film. The process is part collaborative, part dictatorial.” Still, very few aspects of a potential film increase its likelihood of going into production more than an idea with a built-in audience. THE BU ILT-IN AUDIENCE To illustrate how the concept of a built-in audience can affect a studio’s decision to greenlight a film, consider the following oversimplified hypothetical scenario. Picture you are the newly minted president of Warner Bros. You still need to prove yourself to the creative community, your Board of Directors, and the shareholders. The stock price of Time Warner (the parent company of Warner Bros.) has been depressed, and the CEO is pressuring you

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to produce more blockbusters. In addition, you have been receiving demands from the creative community to greenlight more “quality films” (a grossly overused term that is truly in the eye of the beholder). Fortunately, two screenplays have landed on your desk. The first script (Script “A”) has been highly lauded by your entire management team—one of the best they have read in years; the other is Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed—a script that is not as highly regarded. Both scripts have similar budgets. Script “A” does not yet have an element attached (although your team says that it will easily attract an A-list actor and/or director), and the second script has commitments from the cast of the original Scooby-Doo film. Your instincts tell you that Script “A” just may be good enough to earn one or more Academy Awards—a mark of distinction you and your team have been striving to achieve. Let’s continue the scenario and suppose that your budget only allows you to greenlight one more film for the fiscal year. What to do? You call a meeting of your management team and ask, “How much did the original Scooby-Doo gross in its worldwide theatrical release?” The answer? Over $222 million.17 The sequel, you reason, has the same cast, the same director, and that all-important built-in audience. (For the purposes of this discussion, let us define a built-in audience as “a significant population that is predisposed to attend a film, based on the success of the film’s source material: for instance, the original film on which a sequel is based, a novel, comic book, television program, or play.”) That stated, you and your team believe that the overall quality of Script “A” far surpasses the Scooby-Doo script. And, one cannot overstate the importance of industry recognition if Script “A” attracts the right elements. Finally, your head of production argues that Script “A” will have “moderateto-high box office potential.” Your head of marketing, however, respectively disagrees, exclaiming, “While this script will undoubtedly attract an A-list star and director, it is likely to appeal only to women over 25, thus limiting its overall revenue potential. In addition, the subject matter of Script “A” is uniquely American—thus, the outlook for international sales seems minimal. If we make a modest box office prediction for Scooby-Doo 2, say, 50 percent of the original, we are looking at a guaranteed worldwide theatrical gross of at least $111 million—a far better risk.” Suffice to say that this scenario is completely fictitious and overly simplified, but as a rule, studio chiefs are faced with situations like this on a consistent basis. We may never know what discussions went on behind closed doors when Warner Bros. decided to greenlight Scooby-Doo 2, but the fact that the property had a built-in audience surely played a large role in the studio’s decision-making process. Incidentally, Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed earned over $140 million in worldwide box office receipts, not including ancillary revenue such as DVD sales and licensing (achieving over 63% of the original film’s gross).18

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Times have certainly changed since the days of Louis B. Mayer and his Mogul counterparts. Today, the motion picture industry is a complex, global enterprise with a multitude of factors influencing those who run Hollywood studios. With production and marketing costs outpacing inflation, studios will continue to operate in a way that best mitigates its risks. And while committing $100 million to the average film is in of itself a considerable financial risk, studio chiefs always will look to proven talent and built-in audiences to increase their prospects for success. It is difficult to predict how an increasingly connected society will impact Hollywood studios regarding the films they produce in the future. Clearly, the advent of YouTube, MySpace, and countless Web sites devoted to motion pictures has had a significant effect on how movies are marketed and consumed today, but it is still unclear how the power of the Internet affects studio greenlighting. One guess is that film concepts (and trailers) will be tested more in the marketplace on the Internet—in essence, creating a 24/7 international focus group. As we have discussed, Hollywood studios are always looking for ways to increase their potential for profitability and mitigate risk. Finally, a note about the quality of motion pictures in today’s American multiplexes (one could argue that this topic could be a book unto itself ). While this chapter has focused on the factors that go into the greenlighting process, little has been mentioned about the quality—or lack thereof—of the final product. Because of the structure of the Hollywood studios in the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s and the relative stature of the Moguls, it can be argued that during that period of time, a greater emphasis was placed on quality than in today’s complex, high-stakes environment. Having said that, common sense would suggest that in a business as competitive as the entertainment industry—with so many more individuals vying to write, produce, direct, and act in films than there are slots available—one reasonably could conclude that the entertainment industry must be a meritocracy and that only the best films would be greenlit. As any savvy consumer knows, unfortunately, that is not the case. Studios cannot afford simply to select the “best scripts” to go into production. It is a cruel reality of the entertainment industry and one that ultimately hurts the very people who have kept the movie business thriving for almost a century—the moviegoers. NOTES 1. According to the Motion Picture Association of America, the average negative cost for a feature film (including marketing) in 2006 was $100.3 million. 2. Daily Variety, November 12, 2007. 3. Daily Variety, May 13, 2004. 4. Ibid. 5. Daily Variety, June 25, 2007.

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6. The Hollywood Reporter, April 11, 2007. 7. EDI FilmSource. 8. According to EDI FilmSource, Shrek and Shrek 2 grossed over $1 billion in worldwide box office receipts. 9. EDI FilmSource. 10. Carl Sagan, Cosmos (New York: Random House, 2002). 11. Neal Gabler, An Empire of Their Own: How the Jews Invented Hollywood (New York: Anchor Books, 1988). 12. http://www.cbscorporation.com. 13. http://www.pixar.com (2007). 14. Lionsgate Films (2007). 15. EDI FilmSource. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid. 18. Ibid.

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chapter 2

The Six Faces of Piracy: Global Media Distribution from Below Ramon Lobato

The VCR is to the American film producer and the American public as the Boston strangler is to the woman home alone. —Former Motion Picture Association of America president Jack Valenti Rip, mix, burn. —Apple iTunes marketing slogan The public profile of debate around intellectual property (IP) issues has never seemed higher than in the last decade. Newspapers regularly feature coverage of piracy prosecutions, columnists debate the pros and cons of copyright extensions, studio-funded antibootleg promos appear on DVDs and in cinemas, and Hollywood trade papers overflow with updates on changes in copyright law, international trade regulation, and studio IP policy. A familiar cast of characters appears again and again—the teenage downloader, the corporate bigwig, the struggling independent artist, the “foreign” pirate-cumterrorist. In most public discourse, piracy either looms large as scourge and scandal or is talked up as the way of the future, but rarely is it analyzed systematically or contextualized historically. Rarely is the focus shifted away from the ethics of piracy and toward its broader contexts—its legal history, its economic functions, and its implications for knowledge and information distribution on a global scale. Through a series of six critical readings of piracy, I argue that we should understand it as, among other things, an alternative

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distribution system for media content, one of considerable complexity and potential. Piracy’s “cockroach capitalism” seeks out profit in markets untouched or underserviced by existing media institutions, providing in many instances the only available forms of film culture.1 From this perspective, piracy is not only a form of deviant behavior but may also offer routes to knowledge, development, and citizenship. DEFINING PIRACY Piracy networks can be considered part of the informal sector, that subterranean zone of the economy that is largely untaxed, unregulated, and unmeasured.2 However, piracy is distinct from other areas of the informal economy, such as the drug trade, because pirate goods are not technically illegal in their own right. Rather, the illegality of pirate products is usually a function of their reproduction and sale. The U.S. film industry’s flagship lobbying body, the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA), defines piracy as “the unauthorized taking, copying or use of copyrighted materials without permission,”3 and is keen to remind us of its economic and social cost by invoking dramatic statistics such as these: • The major U.S. studios lose $6.1 billion globally each year as a result of piracy. • Losses to audiovisual industries worldwide are estimated at $18.2 billion annually. • More than 34 million illegal discs and 3,362 burners were seized in antipiracy operations in 2005. • 80% of global piracy originates from outside the United States, with especially high levels of pirate audiovisual consumption occurring in China (90%), Russia (79%), and Thailand (79%). • Piracy operations have links to terrorist outfits, prostitution rings, drug smugglers, and other organized crime syndicates.4

Other industry bodies such as the Cable and Satellite Broadcasting Association of Asia (CASBAA) define piracy more broadly, as “any form of revenue leakage from any point in the value chain”5—a definition that perhaps highlights the way in which piracy often functions as a scapegoat for the industry’s own structural problems. It is important to note that piracy is as old as cinema itself. Every new distributive technology has given rise to its own bogeyman. In the early years of the medium, U.S. distributors were plagued by “bicycling” and “jackrabbiting,” whereby film prints were screened in unapproved venues or extra screenings were put on without the distributors’ permission.6 The market for 16 mm bootleg prints and private projection equipment that emerged in the

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postwar period also irritated the studios. And with the invention of the VCR, home-based illegal dubbing became the biggest nightmare yet for the movie industry, which feared that its entire existence was under threat. As ludicrous as this sounds today, it tells us something interesting about both the history and the future of the “war on piracy.” While the studios strategically play up their purported financial woes when it is useful to do so, global theatrical revenues in fact rose 20 percent in 2006, which suggests that despite all the hype piracy is having little impact on the industry’s bottom line.7 A recent study by the criminologist Majid Yar supports this conclusion, arguing that the piracy “epidemics” decried by industry moguls are often a product of PR campaigns by the studios combined with legislative changes that declare more and more everyday audiovisual activity illegal.8 I shall have more to say later about the extent to which piracy threatens or bolsters the existing power structures within the entertainment industry. However, to fully appreciate the implications of piracy, we must first examine the legal framework against which it is defined. A BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO COPYRIGHT Copyright law is conventionally understood as a common-sense way of protecting the rights of cultural producers, rewarding them for their efforts and fostering future innovation. The extent to which copyright in its present form does these things is open to some debate; however, what I would like to suggest here is that, as well as being a legal framework, copyright is also a historically and culturally specific ideology, one founded upon modernist notions of innovation and deeply embedded in capitalist thought and practice. For this reason, it is important not to take its normative claims as gospel. The history of copyright is a long and convoluted one and has been the subject of numerous scholarly works from across the disciplines.9 Interestingly, one of the earliest forms of copyright was a de facto form of state censorship—in sixteenth-century England, a group of publishers known as the Stationers Guild were granted the right to publish commercially on the condition that they steer clear of anything critical of the Crown. Other precedents can be found in ancient Greece, Italy, and The Netherlands. However, most scholars trace the origins of modern copyright to early eighteenthcentury England—and specifically to the passing of the Act of Queen Anne in 1710. The Act of Anne provided authors and publishers with the first enforceable period of monopoly control over their intellectual labor (for a period of 14 years, extendable once only), after which a work would enter into what would become known as the public domain. This was considered to be a fair trade-off between the competing demands of individual authors and civil society, which was presumed to benefit from a freely accessible archive of cultural production.

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The globalization of copyright law has been underway since the late nineteenth century. In 1886, the Berne Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works was signed by a number of European nations and would go on to become the key template for global copyright regimes of the twentieth century.10 An Anglo-American agreement was also signed in 1891, harmonizing some of the discrepant traditions in both nations. This process was consolidated and extended with the 1948 Brussels Convention (which granted copyright protection to cinema) and the 1994 Agreement on TradeRelated Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS), which formed part of the final Uruguay round of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT). The GATT’s successor, the World Trade Organization (WTO), has been a prime disseminator of the “new world order in knowledge” ever since, supporting policies that tend to favor established players in the agribusiness, information technology, entertainment, and other IP-based industries.11 Those few recalcitrant states that have attempted to water down their copyright protections—a group that has included, at various times, Hong Kong, China, and Brazil—have generally either been bought off with trade incentives or disciplined with restrictions and embargoes.12 Three key points can be extracted from this potted history of copyright. First, copyright regimes—particularly in their current “hard” incarnation— function to convert knowledge into capital. Copyright is thus inextricably linked to the development of free-market capitalism and what is sometimes dubbed information capitalism. Furthermore, we should be aware that copyright’s reach extends beyond the realms of the economic and the legal and into the cultural: It designates forms of cultural production as either legitimate or illegitimate based upon a set of values that privilege “progress” and “innovation.” In contrast, the public domain is always defined negatively—as that which is “left over after all other rights have been defined and distributed.”13 Second, copyright terms have been steadily increasing, meaning that knowledge and cultural production are kept out of the public domain for longer and longer periods. Copyright terms now extend up to 70 years after the death of the creator in many territories. Term extensions have been a key feature of recent U.S. trade deals, such as the 2004 U.S.–Australia Free Trade Agreement, which required that Australia fall into line with the restrictive IP framework outlined in the U.S. 1998 “Sonny Bono” Copyright Term Extension Act. (As one would expect, this Act was the result of intensive lobbying on the part of American software and media corporations. Disney led the charge, motivated by the fact that its copyright on the infinitely profitable Mickey Mouse was set to expire. For this reason the Extension Act is commonly referred to as the “Mickey Mouse Protection Act.”) Similar agreements have recently been signed with many other nations. The U.S.–Korea FTA is expected to have a particularly harsh effect on the Korean film industry, which has been booming

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over the last decade, as it mandates the partial dismantling of one of the key drivers of the industry’s success: a domestic screen quota. Finally, wherever IP industries have political clout, constant pressure for further extensions exists. For example, an alliance of British record companies, with the help of aging rock stars such as The Who’s Roger Daltrey, mounted a high-profile campaign in 2007 to lobby for legal changes in the European Union (EU) with the aim of instituting a new music copyright term of 90 years.14 This proposal was eventually rejected by the British government—however, it is only a matter of time before it is put back on the agenda. Third, it is important to note that art and business are not always diametrically opposed in IP debates. The history of copyright is full of examples of cultural producers who, understandably, have been more interested in their incomes than in the future of the public domain. Wordsworth, Twain, and Dickens were all champions of copyright, as are the band Metallica and the director George Lucas contemporarily.15 Even Spike Lee, a radical filmmaker acclaimed for his unflinching analyses of contemporary racial politics, has been a vociferous defender of his own IP rights.16 We should also note that copyright law has on many occasions been used as a legal tool to protect the rights of individual artists against corporate interests. For example, the “moral rights” (droit d’auteur) provision of European copyright law (to which the United States has long objected) was the basis for John Huston’s court victory over MGM in relation to the colorization of the 1950 film The Asphalt Jungle.17 This complication duly noted, the implications of current copyright regimes for many types of cultural production are quite alarming. One frequently cited example concerns an independent filmmaker whose documentary on opera stagehands unintentionally included four seconds of The Simpsons. (During one take, the program had been playing on a TV set in the background.) Despite obtaining the personal blessing of Simpsons creator Matt Groening, the filmmaker was threatened with a lawsuit by the copyright holder, Fox, which demanded a whopping $10,000 clearance fee. The filmmaker’s legal advice suggested that even though the sequence would probably be covered by “Fair Use” provisions in U.S. copyright law, which allow the use of copyrighted material in certain circumstances, the potential court battle would most likely be decided by the size of each side’s legal team—and given the resources of Fox’s parent News Corporation, the filmmaker had little chance of success.18 As this episode suggests, copyright has strayed a long way from its original purpose, and Fair Use provisions cannot always be relied upon to protect the rights of cultural producers. So where does this leave piracy? Violations of an ethical/legal system can only be considered inappropriate if we believe in the principles and the efficacy of that system to begin with. Thus, if we accept that copyright is a flawed system built around a specific political and

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economic worldview, does this not occasion a reappraisal of pirate reproduction? Given the high visibility of current debates around file-sharing and digital IP law, is it not time to complicate the common-sense assumptions that inform our understanding of copyright and, in so doing, to open up a series of vantage points on its opposite number—piracy—which do not necessarily involve its reflex condemnation? With this aim in mind, what follows is a series of critical readings of piracy from six different perspectives.

RETHINKING PIRACY: SIX CONCEPTUAL MODELS Piracy as Theft Let us begin with the most common understanding of piracy. As I have outlined so far, IP regimes understand creativity to be a form of capital. Copyright is the regulatory mechanism that oversees this property system, ensuring that markets remain healthy and that levels of protection for IP rights-holders are on a par with those extended to other property owners, such as land owners or car owners. From this perspective, it is suggested, copyright is something that should be not only defended but also legislatively boosted and pedagogically entrenched. Piracy, on the other hand, is imagined as a parasitic act of social and economic deviance. Writers such as Pat Choate and Paul Paradise are representative of this conventional reading of piracy, which is in line with mainstream political and legal thought throughout the West.19 In the arena of film, this approach to piracy is best exemplified by the aforementioned Motion Picture Association of America. The MPAA’s antipiracy activities have been the envy of other sectors of the IP industries because they resulted, at least until the emergence of peer-to-peer (P2P) technologies, in the virtual eradication of largescale commercial movie piracy in the United States, Australia, Canada, and most of Western Europe. No one has been more vocal in their denunciations of piracy, nor more florid in their rhetoric, than the MPAA’s former president Jack Valenti. A former aide to Lyndon Johnson, this powerful lobbyist ran the MPAA from 1966 until 2004. He contributed significantly to several landmark legal offensives, including the failed 1984 Sony Corp vs. Universal City Studios (“the Betamax case”), which sought to stamp out the booming home video industry, and the much-maligned Digital Millennium Copyright Act in 1998. Now deceased, Valenti was a legendary orator in his day. During Congressional hearings for the Betamax case, he famously quipped that “the VCR is to the American film producer and the American public as the Boston strangler is to the woman home alone.” He regularly referred to piracy as “a pandemic” that robs IP industries of what is rightfully theirs, and he was

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also fond of making (frequently unsubstantiated) connections between piracy operations and terrorist groups including Hezbollah, Hamas, the IRA, Al Qaeda, and Lashka-e-Toiba.20 The MPAA’s war on piracy has sought to embed an ethics of copyright in the global mindset. In the past, MPAA ad campaigns have attempted to counter the widely held belief that piracy only harms the stock options of studio moguls by presenting the audience with stories from Hollywood technicians and tradespeople regarding the threat posed to their livelihoods by illegal copying. MPAA competitions such as the “Xcellent Xtreme Challenge” offer DVDs and Hollywood studio trips to children who submit antipiracy essays. The organization’s Web site even promotes a cheerful “Copyright Kids” game (www.copyrightkids.org) where children can familiarize themselves with the virtues of IP by registering their own poems, paintings, and drawings for protection.21 However, much of the MPAA’s rhetoric unravels upon closer inspection. Statistics from the MPAA on piracy losses tend to defy the most basic tenets of economics because they are often based on calculations that presume that for each movie accessed illegally a legitimate version of the same film goes unsold. This logic is fundamentally flawed, for it ignores the influence of pricing levels and distribution in media consumption. For example, legal VHS/VCD hire in Korea has traditionally been very cheap and accessible thanks to an extensive network of local family-run stores.22 As a result, piracy levels have been very low for much of the last few decades. In China, however, where cinema admission and legal movie purchasing is much more expensive in comparison to average wage levels, piracy is rampant.23 Furthermore, reports of industry “losses” are usually based on gross rather than net figures and are necessarily suspect given that piracy’s subterranean and disreputable nature means attempts to quantify it are speculative at best.24 And even if such figures were reliable, the purported piracy boom of recent years has as much to do with increasing amounts of everyday activity being criminalized as with verifiable increases in illegal activities. As Majid Yar argues, piracy statistics tend to function as self-fulfilling prophecies: [ H ]igh figures put pressure on legislators to criminalize, and on enforcement agencies to police more rigorously; the tightening of copyright laws produces more “copyright theft” as previously legal or tolerated uses are prohibited, and the more intensive policing of “piracy” results in more seizures; these in turn produce new estimates suggesting that the ‘epidemic’ continues to grow unabated; which then legitimates industry calls for even more vigorous action.25

Like the music industry’s campaigns against illegal downloading, the film industry’s war on piracy is in many senses a public relations exercise aimed

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at reinforcing a deferential relationship to copyright at the level of everyday consumption and showing the “vulnerable” side of a profitable and quasioligopolistic industry. However, this rhetoric is somewhat disingenuous, for piracy is still above all a form of film consumption, and this consumption can often be made profitable for the studios in other ways. As Toby Miller has argued, piracy breeds a “Hollywood habit,” familiarizing global audiences with American product and softening up markets for future exploitation.26 It also adds value to prenegotiated product placement deals, increasing revenue streams via the back door. Finally, it is worth recalling that digital piracy is actually Hollywood’s own digital Frankenstein: Not only is it a side-effect of technology developed by the major studios, but it is also made possible in many cases by DVD preview discs secretly copied by U.S. technicians during postproduction—and even, in one memorable case, by an Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences member.27 Let us move now to another perspective on piracy, one that sees copying as a potential business model rather than a form of deviant behavior. Piracy as Free Enterprise While several of the alternative approaches to piracy that I outline here involve a critique of capitalism, one does not. This perspective—what we might call the extreme laissez-faire model—reads piracy as the purest form of free enterprise. Unimpeded by restrictive legislation and monopolistic market structures, piracy from this vantage point can be appreciated as a flourishing of commercial activity catering directly to market needs. For example, certain economists have argued that greater economic efficiency can be achieved in a liberalized regulatory environment where the reduced returns to copyright holders would be offset by the productivity gains arising from lower prices and wider availability of cultural goods.28 A recent editorial in The Economist (July 2, 2005)—which is hardly a bastion of anticapitalist sentiment—even suggested that copyright terms should be stripped back to 14 –28 years in order to boost innovation. In other words, a persuasive argument can be made on economic grounds alone that strong copyright is undesirable. Indeed, if we push this argument to its logical limit, it becomes possible to read piracy as the quintessential form of free enterprise. This view suggests that the two competing objectives that copyright seeks to balance —collective progress and individual profit—are in fact collapsible into a brave new world of unbounded capital and information exchange. Contemporary China provides an excellent example of these contradictions. The nation’s thriving pirate economy is often represented as the Mr. Hyde to global capitalism’s Dr. Jekyll, but it is more than this. In many ways, piracy is a side-effect of the boom in “legitimate” enterprise that has followed China’s accession to the WTO, as it is based upon factors such as increased consumer

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activity, the rise of digital technology, new levels of commercial autonomy for Chinese businesses, and the technologization of mass production practices. In fact, Warner Bros’ Chinese operation chose as its first home video licensee a well-known piracy outfit (the Xianke company), which makes a mockery of the MPAA’s moralistic IP rhetoric.29 My point here is that piracy is still a lucrative form of business, that wealth is still created and exchanged—it’s just that the distribution of this wealth takes a different form. The recent history of DVD technology offers another example. Consumers shopping for new DVD players are often faced with an interesting choice. One can buy an expensive brandname unit loaded with all the irritating anticopying mechanisms that make life difficult (region coding, Macrovision, copy protection, and so on). Or, for half the price, one can choose a generic brand that will allow you to play what you want, where you want, when you want—for, in many cases, the manufacturers of these units are not part of vertically integrated audiovisual empires and have little to gain from the extra time and expense that is required to install copy-prevention technology in their players.30 Here we have two competing models of capitalism: on the one hand, an oligopolistic, vertically integrated, top-heavy capitalism that perpetuates itself through collusion with the state via technical standards, trade deals, copyright regimes, and so on; and, on the other, a less formal, often extra-legal variety of enterprise that operates between the cracks in existing economic structures and frequently outstrips its legally sanctioned counterpart in efficiency, speed, and flexibility. This second model resembles what film theorists Chuck Kleinhans and Darrel Davis refer to as “cockroach capitalism.”31 This is an apt metaphor: cockroaches, like pirates, tend to live in cracks and other dark spaces; they move fast and multiply quickly; they feast on whatever scraps are available; and they are extremely difficult to squash. Over the years Sony has evolved from cockroach status to pest-killer. During the aforementioned Betamax case, the Japanese electronics giant was still largely a hardware manufacturer and was thus on the receiving end of the MPAA’s anti–home video offensive. It was portrayed by the studios as a rogue company trying to erode copyright protection and destabilize the industry. Two decades later, Sony is now in the opposite position. Its recent attempt to shore up IP protection in the face of cockroach competition involved concealing spyware and data-collection utilities in the copy-protection software on Sony BMG CDs—a sneaky strategy that became a public relations disaster.32 The laissez-faire approach to piracy is gaining traction as the P2P revolution forces the culture industries to develop business models based around revenue sources other than box office admission and record sales. It has precedents in other informal economies. One example is the adult industry—a grey zone that remains one of the more profitable sectors of the entertainment market even though piracy levels may run at up to 85 percent.33 However,

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rather than bemoaning the loss of their customers astute porn distributors accept piracy as a given and build this into their business models. As the CEO of adult distributor Nectar Entertainment has commented, “If someone’s stealing my stuff, I see it as great PR and great marketing.”34 Whereas Valenti sought to damn piracy through discursive connections to porn and the criminal underworld, the laissez-faire brigade might notice something more productive in this connection. Such is the logic of the shadow economies. However, this fact reminds us that piracy is always more than an ethical issue—it is at the same time economic, social, and, as we shall now see, political. Piracy as Free Speech Arguably the most effective critiques of current copyright regimes have been coming from a group of vocal, tech-savvy American liberals. Often affiliated with the open-source movement and such bastions of “technolibertarianism” as Wired magazine and the Electronic Frontier Foundation, writers including Lawrence Lessig, Siva Vaidhyanathan, Michael Strangelove, and J. D. Lasica have published popular critiques of copyright culture over the last few years, helping to give the issue a degree of public visibility.35 They argue that copyright’s intended balance between free speech and the free market is increasingly favoring the latter over the former: Consumer rights are being compromised, and the future of innovation is under threat. Furthermore, these writers—and many others—feel that the piracy issue is inextricably linked to the right of free speech. The sympathies of Lessig and his contemporaries tend to lie with consumers and “creatives.” They are concerned, on the one hand, with the harsh penalties that P2P downloading attracts, with our inability to legally transfer data between different pieces of hardware, with the bugs and spyware that jam up our computers, with the monopolistic practices of Microsoft, and with other user-related issues. At the same time, they seek a way through the copyright minefield for directors, writers, musicians, DJs, animators, and, above all, software developers, via legal recognition of appropriative cut ’n paste techniques as legitimate forms of expression. In his book Copyrights and Copywrongs, Vaidhyanathan analyzes the history of copyright as it has applied to literature, film, music, and software, arguing that the current hard-lockdown phase of IP regulation is stifling creativity. He proposes a system of “thin protection” as the best way to ensure the fair compensation of creatives while still fostering a culture of innovation and freedom of information. Strangelove takes a more anarchic approach in his study The Empire of Mind, lamenting the Internet’s devolution from a space of culture-jamming and activism into a commercialized sphere ruled by IP autocrats. For Strangelove, piracy is a progressive act designed to take back

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what should rightfully belong to us all—the liberating potential of digital technology. However, it is Lessig, a former Young Republican turned Stanford law professor and free-speech activist, who is the most prominent figure in this group. Lessig is the man behind Creative Commons, an easy-to-use alternative to copyright that has been attracting considerable attention within creative industries circles.36 Creative Commons operates on a “some rights reserved” principle. Artists who license a work under the Creative Commons system may still benefit financially from copyright protection, but they also give permission for the work to be used creatively by others (as samples, as source code, and so on) or for nonprofit purposes. Lessig’s influential books The Future of Ideas and Free Culture have become bibles for the online libertarian movement. The latter is grounded in the information-wants-to-be-free rhetoric of cyberpunk. It argues that important forms of cultural production are under threat from the “copyright warriors” whose restrictive IP laws are in fact harming free enterprise. In Lessig’s words, Overregulation stifles creativity. It smothers innovation. It gives dinosaurs a veto over the future. It wastes the extraordinary opportunity for a democratic creativity that digital technology enables.37

The sentiment expressed here is libertarian in that, like the laissez-faire extremists referred to earlier, Lessig sees state regulation as a threat. His argument valorizes innovation for its own sake; it is a reformist position that seeks a softening of certain aspects of the existing IP regime rather than the wholesale overthrow of the political and economic systems of which it is a component. Lessig is very clear about this, insisting at one point that his “message is absolutely not antimarket.”38 Although Lessig notes that piracy has been a constitutive feature of the content industries since the invention of mass communication technologies, he shies away from celebrating piracy per se. In fact, he declares on many occasions his opposition to “theft,” drawing a line in the sand between acceptable piracy (cut ’n paste cultural production, culture jamming, remix culture) and stealing. But as Kativa Philip correctly notes, there is something a little U.S./ Euro-centric about this argument, given that many of the “bad” pirates Lessig has in mind are “foreign” in origin, or at least are constructed as such. This is a point to which we will return shortly. But in the meantime, let us consider a fourth reading of piracy, this time from the vantage point of cultural theory. Piracy as Authorship While the readings of piracy offered so far have revolved around material issues of access and economy, it is possible to approach the phenomenon from

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other perspectives as well. Postmodern theory, for instance, has critiqued IP law by attacking a concept at the very heart of the discourse: authorship. Jacques Derrida, Michel Foucault, and Roland Barthes, among others, have all offered trenchant critiques of such concepts as originality, innovation, and expression, revealing the ways in which these common-sense notions are in fact saddled with all kinds of historical and ideological baggage.39 By pushing some of these ideas to their logical limit, it may even be possible to appreciate piracy as a form of cultural production in its own right. However, before examining the postmodern critique of copyright let us consider how the legal frameworks around IP define originality. Copyright law makes a distinction between an idea and its expression. While ideas cannot be copyrighted, their expressions, in the form of films, books, poems, songs, and so forth, can be. This distinction presents several problems. First, the line between an idea and an expression is often a rather arbitrary one.40 Second, it has also been argued that the definition of authorship that is codified in copyright law is tipped in favor of those types of cultural production that are commodifiable (and thus marketable and saleable) and that are “fixed” in certain types of recognized sign systems, such as written language or musical notation. Many other forms of cultural production are excluded from copyright’s scope —for example, oral texts and traditions, physical forms of dance and theatre, and community-based knowledge and information.41 So, in effect, the kind of authorship privileged by copyright and IP discourse frequently functions as a gate that tends disproportionately to favor the developed countries’ contribution to world science and culture. Curare, batik, myths, and the dance “lambada” flow out of developing countries, unprotected by IP rights, while Prozac, Levis, Grisham and the movie Lambada! flow in.42

As a result, copyright tends to privilege those forms of cultural production in which Western cultural industries specialize. This is no accident; on the contrary, it accurately reflects the historical, social, and cultural specificities that have shaped the Euro-American legal traditions upon which copyright is founded. Copyright also tends to erect boundaries between “legitimate” and “illegitimate” cultural activity. What passes for originality or appropriation, as opposed to theft or forgery, is in most cases determined by IP law rather than any universal standards of creative conduct. Some interesting examples of these tensions can be found in postmodern art of the 1980s. The American artist and provocateur Jeff Koons was famously sued for producing a sculpture (String of Puppies, 1988) based on a kitsch postcard image. His contemporary Sherrie Levine rephotographed the Depression-era images of Walker Evans and exhibited them under her own name, while the video artist Douglas

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Gordon screened a slowed-down version of Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) and called it 24 Hour Psycho (1993). All these works were attempting to make important points about what constitutes an “original” art work and to highlight the blind spots of copyright law, which offers many artists little more in the way of protection than the easy publicity of a ready-made scandal. A famous attack on conventional notions of authorship was mounted in the late 1960s by the French semiotician and cultural theorist Roland Barthes, whose canonical essay “The death of the author” is one of the key texts of postmodern theory. Arguing, among other things, that “it is language which speaks, not the author,” Barthes seeks to cut the text loose from the anchors provided by what we understand as authorship. Instead, Barthes sees creativity not as the unique expression of an artist’s subjectivity but as the selection and combination of fragments of already-existing discourse: We know now that a text is not a line of words releasing a single “theological” meaning (the “message” of the Author-God) but a multi-dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and clash. The text is a tissue of quotations drawn from the innumerable centres of culture . . . [ T ]he writer can only imitate a gesture that is always anterior, never original. His only power is to mix writings, to counter the ones with the others, in such a way as never to rest on any one of them.43

This model of authorship has significant implications for the categories of originality, innovation, and authenticity upon which copyright law is founded. If, as the saying goes, there is nothing new under the sun, and the role of the artist or writer is simply to rearrange existing discourse in new combinations, then what makes a pirate any different from an artist? Only the fact that the pirate rests too long on one particular site, resisting copyright’s call to move along in a timely fashion. Now, this argument may work at a theoretical level, but how useful is it when applied to today’s mediascape? Well, recall the famous Apple slogan “rip, mix, burn,” which explicitly situates creativity at the point of reproduction. Or consider the form of originality valued in DJ culture and how this differs from the modernist model of the self-contained, unified art work. From here we are only a small step away from the interpretation of piracy as a creative act in its own right. This argument is especially pertinent to film, a profoundly collaborative medium which is subject to an array of value-adding processes in its voyage from studio to consumer—processes that have traditionally swallowed up the lion’s share of a film’s revenues (distributors retain upwards of 80% of home video takings, for example)44—and that at the level of narrative and style frequently involve slight variations on a handful of well-worn themes anyway.

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Taking all this into account, can we really claim that it is the copyright holder who is the sole “author” of a film? Piracy as Resistance While film industry lobbyists decry piracy, postmodernists read it as an intrinsic component of authorship, and the IT community sees it as either a necessary evil or a potential business model, others have read piracy as a form of subversion. Numerous studies by progressive cultural critics and Marxist political economists have drawn our attention to issues of ownership, power, and resistance within the media industries. Rather than being the creative expressions of their copyright holders, films are understood differently within this tradition—as “commodities whose value is derived from the labour that makes them.”45 Seen from this perspective, copyright is a legal institution that converts information and labor into capital for the benefit of a small coterie of multinational corporations. Thus, piracy—as a rejection of this economic order—has a certain political value. Some of this may sound similar to the libertarian readings discussed earlier. Key differences exist, however. Unlike Lessig, many political economists are decidedly “antimarket.” They consider the media to be a system of control and exploitation that operates in the service of capitalism. Furthermore, they insist on the importance of class, whether in reference to the IP-rich capitalist barons or the workers whose surplus value they extract. For example, Ronald Bettig’s authoritative 1996 study Copyrighting Culture argues that copyright represents a strategy of property regulation and market colonization. He provides a detailed history of copyright law, highlighting the “essential connection between the rise of capitalism, the extension of commodity relations into literary and artistic domains, and the emergence of the printing press.”46 He notes how the U.S. government, in close consultation with industry bodies like the MPAA, has institutionalized copyright culture globally through such means as trade sanctions against recalcitrant nations, FTAs with built-in IP boosters, multilateral initiatives such as GATT and the WTO, and increased infringement penalties and enforcement efforts.47 For Bettig, pirate circuits are spheres of commercial activity that have yet to be “recolonized” by transnational audiovisual empires. Bettig thus implicitly positions piracy as a practice that, in its obstruction of capitalist domination, represents a form of resistance. A similar argument is posed by Toby Miller and others who, in their influential book Global Hollywood, opened up a new area of class analysis within media studies by exploring the political economy of film labor. Their interpretation considers not only the creative talent but also the “below-the-line” workers who paint the sets and drive the delivery vans. They argue that intellectual property laws are one of the key enablers of the major studios’

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exploitative practices: “IP’s transformation of knowledge into property traditionally prioritizes ownership over use, creators over audiences and production over reception.”48 Global Hollywood lists numerous examples of heavy-handed IP “enforcement,” such as Disney’s lawsuit against a Florida school over the copyrighted cartoon characters painted on its buildings. They argue convincingly that the MPAA’s war on piracy is about markets rather than morals: In their eyes, IP law is a “strategic weapon” used to “lubricate international exhibition and open up new areas of information management.”49 Here, as in the work of Bettig, piracy is implicitly valorized for its challenge to Hollywood’s hegemonic “new international division of cultural labor.” The Hong Kong–based film theorist Laikwan Pang puts forward an extreme version of this argument in her recent book Cultural Control and Globalization in Asia. In what often amounts to a romanticization of piracy, Pang attempts to theorize pirate media “as a critical interrogation of today’s international cultural politics.”50 She argues that Hollywood pilfers content (styles, stars, and so on) from Asian cinemas while hypocritically waging rhetorical war against the East on the grounds of copyright infringement. For Pang, the only difference between the two forms of piracy is the technical issue of legality, which is itself defined according to legal structures that favor Hollywood. However, Pang’s totalizing rhetoric—and the propiracy argument in general—can tend to obscure more than it reveals. There is little point exalting all pirates as subversive agents, just as there is little to be gained from blindly damning Hollywood and all it represents. We should not only be thinking of piracy in terms of theft and resistance, of right and wrong; we also need to start thinking about what it can do for communities across the globe by assessing its social, cultural, and economic effects as well as its moral implications. We need to think in terms of access. Piracy as Access Recent work from postcolonial, legal, and development studies has offered a compelling, new interpretation of piracy, one that is concerned less with its ethics than with its potential. This approach is interested in the transformative aspects of piracy—in piracy’s capacity to disseminate culture, knowledge, and capital. It interrogates the relationship between technology and development, asking not “whose property?” but “whose future?” Earlier on, I referred to the familiar cast of characters that populate the debates around piracy: the teenage file-sharer, the struggling cultural producer, the corporate bigwig, the pirate-terrorist syndicates, and so on. Missing from this picture are those forms of everyday piracy that take place in

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the developing world. For instance, many communities aren’t included in the kind of Marxist or libertarian critiques outlined previously because they may not belong to a working class per se, much less the creative class to whom Lessig addresses his arguments. Political economy’s binary division between owners and workers has less to offer those who exist beyond the boundaries of the latter category and who may indeed have something to gain from the technological modernity of pirate media. In a compelling essay, the feminist/postcolonial theorist Kativa Philip unpacks some of these issues. Drawing on the work of Michel Foucault, Philip invites us to reconsider the familiar narrative of “technological authorship” from the perspective of “sites in the global south which are perceived, in the liberal democratic discourse of development stages, to be mired in the ‘not yet.’ ” What does it mean that, at the very historical moment that technological authorship seems to become widely accessible, the law marks off certain authorial spaces as transgressive? What difference does it make that a particular kind of ripping off happens on the margins of the industrialized world, among the “less developed” members of the WTO, at the apparent edges of the reach of western liberal democratic law, where the lines between authentic original and corrupted copy are being blurred by street vendors and high-tech entrepreneurs?51

Philip thus suggests that the libertarian reading of piracy exemplified by Lessig uses the type of commercial piracy practiced in Asia as a kind of black sheep against which the free-software movement can define itself. In other words, she argues that the war on piracy is also about the struggle for authority and power on the global stage. In this geopolitical arm wrestle, “copying” has a double meaning: On the one hand, Asia is encouraged to imitate the West by replicating its political and economic systems and by promoting responsible digital citizenship; but on the other hand, alternative forms of “copying” (pirate reproduction) are strictly forbidden. Such an argument pushes debates around piracy into a whole new territory. By connecting everyday piracy to development and global politics, Philip makes a compelling case for taking piracy seriously as a route to social, economic, and political change. One of the inspirations of Philip’s critique is Lawrence Liang, a legal scholar based at Bangalore’s Alternative Law Forum (www.altlawforum. org) whose work has also been influential in this debate. In the essay “Porous Legalities and Avenues of Participation,” Liang develops this argument by emphasizing the fact that legality itself is a relative concept. He notes that millions of Indians live in a state of illegality every day of their lives, forced by socioeconomic circumstances to bribe officials for essential services or to

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steal electricity because no “official” sources exist. According to Liang, the “porous legalities” that characterize life in much of the developing world may be the only routes through which contact with the modernity that the West takes for granted may be realized. Piracy is therefore not solely about morality, freedom, or even resistance; it’s also about “ways through which people ordinarily left out of the imagination of modernity, technology and the global economy [find] ways of inserting themselves into these networks.”52 A third and final writer who has been able to give some experiential detail to these arguments is the Indian new media theorist Ravi Sundaram. In the absorbing essay “Recycling Modernity: Pirate Electronic Cultures in India,” Sundaram defines “recycled pirate modernity” as an urbanized, everyday, nonlegal sphere characterized by speedy, small-scale practices of circulation (rather than production). This is a culture of cassette-based music trade, DIY computer networks, cheap mobile phone repairs, and pirate VHS/VCD movies; a “world of informal technological knowledge existing in most parts of India, where those excluded from the upper-caste, English-speaking bastions of the cyber-elite learn their tools.”53 Sundaram’s “recycled modernity” is a set of practices that conform neither to the boosterist hype of economists (India as a brave new world of service-sector innovation) nor to Marxist models of economic imperialism (India as a source of cheap labor and an object of exploitation). It is founded upon a variety of piracy that is not by definition oppositional or countercultural and has little in common with the kind of cut ’n paste postmodernity fetishized by Western academics. Instead, Sundaram presents recycled modernity as “a strategy of both survival and innovation on terms entirely outside the current debates on the structure and imagination of the net and techno-culture in general.”54 These three theorists alert us to the fact that there is a great deal at stake in debates around piracy, more than just the revenues of Hollywood studios and the leisure options of metropolitan elites. They help us to see that consumer rights issues, important though they are, tend to pale in comparison to piracy’s potential as a productive force. As a form of information distribution, piracy has made a plethora of new social practices possible: grass-roots organization through pirated spreadsheet software, photocopied technical manuals, bootleg copies of banned novels, online activism facilitated by cheap IBM PC knock-offs, new forms of youth culture based around illegally procured CDs and tapes, and so on. In other words, piracy is a distributive technology—it enables ideas, knowledge, and cultural production to circulate in and through society—and should be recognized as such. Film is particularly important in this regard. As the most prestigious of the culture industries (if no longer the most profitable), cinema is still an enormously influential educative technology. It teaches us how to think and feel; it offers pleasures of immeasurable power and value. This is why

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the issue of film distribution is as important as access to software or books. Pirate circuits disseminate all kinds of media, from Hollywood blockbusters to more localized forms of cultural production. A prime example of this can be found in Nigeria’s enormously successful video-film industry. Sometimes dubbed “Nollywood,” this network of producers and distributors pumps out hundreds of films a year, none of which get shown in cinemas (most cinemas in Nigeria have shut down or been turned into churches). Instead, films are shot quickly on video or on digital and distributed cheaply on VHS and VCD. Operating completely outside conventional channels of film production, distribution, and exhibition, Nollywood has become the country’s most vibrant form of popular culture, not to mention a booming economic force in its own right. It has its own star system and a rising international profile. But the keys to its success have been low production overheads and efficient distribution networks that, as the anthropologist Brian Larkin has documented, evolved from pre-existing pirate circuits radiating out from the city of Kano, circuits that had previously moved bootleg Indian and American movies around the country and into neighboring nations.55 This is a powerful example of the productivity of piracy—of how illegal film distribution cannot only redistribute existing content according to market demand but also open up a space for whole new industries, new economies, new forms of cultural production, and new possibilities of change and survival.56 CONCLUSION Bearing in mind the maxim that those who engage in crystal-ball gazing end up eating crushed glass, I would like to conclude by offering some tentative speculations as to the immediate future of the war on piracy. It seems likely that the protections offered to rights-holders by global IP law are unlikely to be diluted in any meaningful way in the short term, notwithstanding the odd reprieve for early-adopting Western consumers. IP debates will, however, become increasingly visible in public discourse and will continue to function as a crossover issue for development NGOs (nongovernment organizations), antiglobalization activists, technolibertarians and consumer groups. As broadband penetration and technological literacy levels rise, digital piracy will flourish despite the obstacles that studio-funded digital rights management (DRM) technology will place in its way. In the wake of iTunes, digital technology will present the entertainment industries with new distributive models, but it is likely that these will tend to favor the established players or to replace old corporate giants with new ones. In other words, the distribution bottleneck will continue to be the primary obstacle for both consumers and producers, even as our cultural industries become increasingly complex and interconnected.

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In highlighting piracy’s productive potential, let me reiterate that I am not mounting a moral defense of piracy per se. Piracy does indeed hurt (some) filmmakers and artists, but given the extremely low rates of return offered to independent artists by most existing market structures, which privilege distributors over producers, it is worth taking all other alternatives seriously. In other words, we should be open to the possibility that pirate distribution often functions as an enabling energy rather than—or as well as—a form of economic parasitism. The open-source movement is helping to show that profit and ethical information management are not necessarily incompatible, but this alone is unlikely to lead to progressive forms of copyright law. Instead, what is required over the medium to long term is a deeper interrogation of the very foundations upon which our proprietary models of IP are constructed. This is by nature an interdisciplinary project, one in which academics, filmmakers, programmers, economists, lawyers, artists, consumers, and community groups may all find a voice. After all, there is more at stake here than entertainment. Skirmishes over DVD ripping and music downloading are linked in important ways to debates over affordable AIDS drugs, agribusiness patents, the “evergreening” of pharmaceuticals, and the future uses of the human genetic code. As the most visible tip of this IP iceberg, the piracy debate may well influence outcomes in these related fields. For this reason, media scholars have both the opportunity and the obligation to become more involved with issues of distribution and to contribute in some small way to the debates taking place around one of the most pressing issues of our time. NOTES Many thanks to Kyle Weise, Polona Petek, Audrey Yue, Sean Cubitt, and Sun Jung for generous feedback and assistance. 1. Darrel William Davis, “Compact Generation: VCD Markets in Asia,” Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television 23, no. 2 (2003): 165–76. Davis credits film theorist Chuck Kleinhans with usage of this term. 2. Philip Mattera, Off the Books: The Rise of the Underground Economy (London: Pluto Press, 1985). 3. “Anti-piracy,” Motion Picture Association of America, http://www.mpaa.org/ piracy.asp. 4. “MPAA Asia/Pacific Piracy Fact Sheet,” Motion Picture Association, http:// www.mpaa.org/AsiaPacificPiracyFactSheet.pdf; LEK Consulting, “The Cost of Movie Piracy” (Singapore: Motion Picture Association, 2005). 5. Magz Osborne, “Pirates Find More Ways to Plunder,” Variety, June 30, 2003, 21. 6. Kerry Seagrave, Piracy in the Motion Picture Industry (Jefferson, NC: MacFarland and Co., 2003); see also Jane M. Gaines, “Early Cinema’s Heyday of Copying: The Too Many Copies of L’arroseur arrosé (The Waterer Watered),” Cultural Studies 20, no. 2–3 (2006): 227– 44.

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7. “Global Theatrical Revenue Rebounds in ’06,” The Hollywood Reporter, July 25, 2007, n.p. 8. Majid Yar, “The Global ‘Epidemic’ of Movie ‘Piracy’: Crime-Wave or Social Construction?” Media, Culture and Society 27, no. 5 (2005): 667–96. 9. See, for example, Ronald V Bettig, Copyrighting Culture: the Political Economy of Intellectual Property (Boulder: Westview Press, 1996); Laikwan Pang, Cultural Control and Globalization in Asia: Copyright, Piracy, and Cinema (London: Routledge, 2006); John Frow, “Public Domain and the New World Order in Knowledge,” Social Semiotics 10, no. 2 (2000): 173–85; Lawrence Lessig, Free Culture: How Big Media Uses Technology and the Law to Lock Down Culture and Control Creativity (New York: Penguin, 2004), and The Future of Ideas: the Fate of the Commons in a Connected World (New York: Random House, 2001); Siva Vaidhyanathan, Copyrights and Copywrongs: The Rise of Intellectual Property and How it Threatens Creativity (New York: New York University Press, 2001/2003). 10. Interestingly, the United States was not a party to the Berne Convention until 1989. Berne’s moral rights (droit d’auteur) provisions were not recognized by the United States—though some legal protections for creators can be found in other areas of U.S. law—and were phased out in the final version of the GATT. This fact is as a reminder that America’s championing of unified global copyright regimes has been rather selective in nature. 11. Frow, “Public Domain.” 12. See Bettig, Copyrighting Culture; Shujen Wang and Jonathan Zhu, “Mapping Film Piracy in China,” Theory, Culture and Society 20, no. 4 (2003): 97–125. 13. Frow, “Public Domain,” 182. 14. See Katie Allen, “Musicians’ Copyright Pleas Fall on Deaf Ears,” The Guardian, July 24, 2007, http://business.guardian.co.uk/story/0,,2133762,00.html. 15. Vaidhyanathan, Copyrights and Copywrongs. Lucas, on record as a strong defender of IP regimes, is nonetheless considerably more lenient than his contemporaries when it comes to Star Wars fan activity, and his championing of digital technology has had some positive implications for alternative models of film production and distribution. 16. “When Mr. Lee’s film Malcolm X came out in 1992, he took some of his friends, ‘muscle,’ he calls them, to 125th Street with baseball bats to clean the bootleg copies off the street.” Linda Lee, “Bootleg Videos: Piracy with a Camcorder,” New York Times, July 7, 1997, D1. 17. Toby Miller et al, Global Hollywood 2 (London: British Film Institute, 2005). 18. Lessig, Free Culture. 19. Pat Choate, Hot Property: The Stealing of Ideas in an Age of Globalization (New York: Knopf, 2005); Paul Paradise, Trademark Counterfeiting, Product Piracy, and the Billion Dollar Threat to the US Economy (Westport, Conn.: Quorum Books, 1999). 20. Miller et al., Global Hollywood 2; Nitin Govil, “War in the Age of Pirate Reproduction,” Sarai Reader 4 (2004): 378–83, http://www.sarai.net/publications/readers/. 21. “Tipping Hollywood the Black Spot,” The Economist, August 20, 2003; Govil. 22. The VCD (Video Compact Disc) format has an interesting history, though most people outside Asia and certain parts of Africa and Latin America are oblivious to its existence. Essentially, the VCD is a CD-rom containing a single MPG file that can be played on standalone VCD players, often around the size of a Discman, as well as on most DVD players and computers. They can store 74 minutes of audiovisual content,

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which means that two or three separate VCDs are required for most feature films, and offer audio and video of slightly lower quality than a VHS cassette. VCDs have no menus, copy protection, or region coding. Invented in the early 1990s by Philips and Sony, who soon abandoned the format, VCD technology went on to become especially popular in Asia (except Japan) during the mid-1990s. See Kelly Hu, “The VCD Experience,” in Asian Media Studies: Politics of Subjectivities, eds. John Erni and Siew Keng Chua (Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2005), 55–72; Davis, “Compact Generation,” 173. 23. “Asia Fights Piracy with Gov’t, Corporate Help,” Variety, November 13, 2000, 88. 24. Wang and Zhu, “Mapping Film Piracy in China.” 25. Yar, “The Global ‘Epidemic’ of Movie ‘Piracy,’ ” 690. 26. Toby Miller, “Hollywood 2010,” address to the Centre for Screen Business, Australian Film, Television and Radio School, May 2006, available at http://csb.aftrs. edu.au/. 27. Carmine Caridi, who once played a cop on NYPD Blue, was investigated by the FBI in 2004 for copyright infringement. An Academy member (and thus an Academy Awards judge), he had reportedly been selling his Oscar screener DVDs to a pirate operation. See Danny Birchall, “Thieves Like Us,” Sight and Sound, October, 2000, 32–36. Similar links between “official” film industries and the pirate underworld also exist in other countries: In Hong Kong it is widely known that producers sell finished copies of their own films to piracy outfits in order to recoup tax-free profits. “The Triads and the Hong Kong Film Industry,” BBC World Service, April 2006, 22 minutes, http:// www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/programmes/ram/globalperspective/part4.ram. 28. Bettig, Copyrighting Culture, 103–6. 29. See Shujen Wang, Framing Piracy: Globalization and Film Distribution in Greater China (Lanham, Mass.: Rowman and Littlefield, 2003), 87; Douglas Clark, “IP Rights Protection will Improve in China—Eventually,” The China Business Review, May– June, 2000, 22–29. 30. Cheap Chinese VCD and DVD hardware is not entirely outside the established circuits of transnational audiovisual industry capital as chip and component patent licenses have to be leased from the likes of Time Warner, Hitachi, Sony, and Philips. Wang, Framing Piracy, 51–53. 31. Davis, “Compact Generation.” 32. Miller et al, Global Hollywood 2, 246; “How Sony Became an Ugly Sister,” The Observer, Dec 18, 2005, 6, Business section. 33. This figure is an estimate by Australia’s Adult Industry Copyright Organisation Limited—see http://www.aico.org.au/access—and thus is likely to be somewhat exaggerated; however, the fact that the porn market is subject to higher levels of piracy than other sectors of the entertainment industry is commonly accepted. 34. Dana Harris, “Porn Pirates Go Unpunished,” Variety, January 24, 2005, 8. 35. Lessig, Free Culture; Vaidhyanathan, Copyrights and Copywrongs; Michael Strangelove, The Empire of Mind: Digital Piracy and the Anti-Capitalist Movement (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005); J. D. Lasica, Darknet: Hollywood’s War against the Digital Generation (Hoboken, NJ: J Wiley and Sons, 2005). 36. See, for example, Tony Flew, “Creative Commons and the Creative Industries,” Media and Arts Law Review 10, no. 4 (2005), http://www.law.unimelb.edu.au/cmcl/ malr/contents104.html; Brian Fitzgerald, “Creative Choices: Changes to the Cre-

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ative Commons,” Media International Australia Incorporating Culture and Policy 114 (2005): 83–86. 37. Lessig, Free Culture, 199. 38. Ibid., 227. 39. This field of literary theory has been the subject of enormous debate across several decades, and it is impossible to do any kind of justice to the argument here. However, the following texts are good places to begin: Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” in Image-Music-Text, trans. Stephen Heath (London: Fontana, 1977), 142– 49; Michel Foucault, “What is an Author?” in Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews, ed. Donald F. Bouchard, trans. Donald F. Bouchard and Sherry Simon (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977), 113–38; Jacques Derrida, “Limited inc a b c,” in Postmodernism: Critical Concepts, ed. Victor E. Taylor and Charles E. Winquist (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1977/1998), 416–503. 40. Pang, Cultural Control and Globalization in Asia. 41. For an interesting discussion of the relationship between Western IP law and Maori cultural production, see Barry Barclay, Mana Tuturu: Maori Treasures and Intellectual Property Rights (Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2006). 42. James Boyle, cited in Miller et al., Global Hollywood 2, 224. 43. Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” 143, 146. 44. For details on home video royalty structures, see Edward Jay Epstein, The Big Picture: The New Logic of Money and Power in Hollywood (New York: Random House, 2005); Janet Wasko, How Hollywood Works (London: Sage, 2003). For further information on the cultural dimensions of film distribution, see Ramon Lobato, “Subcinema: Theorising Marginal Film Distribution,” Limina: A Journal of Cultural and Historical Studies 13, http://www.limina.arts.uwa.edu.au/__data/page/59120/Lobato.pdf. 45. Miller et al., Global Hollywood 2, 5 (emphasis added). 46. Bettig, Copyrighting Culture, 9. 47. This argument is especially pertinent at the present moment given the U.S. government’s ongoing attempts to combat piracy in China and to bring the PRC into the global IP fold. 48. Miller et al., Global Hollywood 2, 226. 49. Ibid., 216. 50. Pang, Cultural Control and Globalization in Asia, 82. 51. Kativa Philip, “What is a Technological Author? The Pirate Function and Intellectual Property,” Postcolonial Studies 8, no. 2 (2005): 207. 52. Lawrence Liang, “Porous Legalities and Avenues of Participation,” Sarai Reader 5 (2005): 12, http://www.sarai.net/publications/readers/. 53. Ravi Sundaram, “Recycling Modernity: Pirate Electronic Cultures in India,” Sarai Reader 1 (2001), 93, http://www.sarai.net/publications/readers/. 54. Ibid., 96. 55. Brian Larkin, “Degraded Images, Distorted Sounds: Nigerian Video and the Infrastructure of Piracy,” Public Culture 16, no. 2 (2004): 289–314. 56. Ibid; Sean Cubitt, “Distribution and Media Flows,” Cultural Politics 1, no. 2 (2005): 193–214.

chapter 3

KingKong.com versus LOLTheMovie.com: Toward a Framework of Corporate and Independent Online Film Promotion Mary P. Erickson

The Web phenomenon of The Blair Witch Project (Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sánchez, 1999) during the movie’s theatrical run in 1999 was heralded as revolutionizing the entire structure of movie marketing. The fan-driven Web campaign generated buzz around this low-budget film, propelling it to garner over $140 million at the domestic box office. Movie studios hurriedly created Web sites for their films, hoping to cash in on what Christopher Grove called the “Holy Grail” of Web marketing.1 One industry insider predicted, “Currently, Hollywood studios only spend a few percent of a movie’s total budget on Internet promotions. Blair Witch’s surprise performance will increase that commitment tenfold.”2 Since Blair Witch, major studios have, for the most part, included Web sites as a medium in their marketing campaigns, although the degree to which they rely on Web sites for promotion varies from film to film. Despite steady growth over the past several years, Web sites and other online promotions account for only 3.7 percent of major studios’ advertising costs.3 Independent filmmakers, meanwhile, tend to hinge their entire film marketing campaigns on the use of Web sites for promotion. As we examine who uses Web sites for movie promotion, we must also examine to what end they are used. How do these Web sites, for example, reflect the promotional objectives of a filmmaker or studio? How is the Web site visitor expected to interact with the site?

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An examination of various components of a given Web site begins to reveal these objectives and expectations, particularly when we compare Web sites across the spectrum, from those Web sites for major Hollywood blockbusters to ones for independently produced microbudget films. Varieties of Web marketing activity, as applied to online movie marketing by Adam Finn and others, demonstrate a range of purposes, including communication, sales, content, and networking, that vary depending on the objectives of the producer.4 One can locate some combination of these characteristics within most movie Web sites, but the degree to which emphasis is placed on each one indicates which aspects and functions of the Web site are considered most useful. In particular, there are accentuated differences between corporate and independent movie promotional goals; while major studios and independent filmmakers both seek to promote films via movie Web sites, they do so in significantly different ways. This chapter presents an examination of various Web sites in order to highlight how major studios approach the Internet at a fundamentally different level than do independent filmmakers. The Internet is an appropriate site for an exploration of the differences and similarities of corporate and independent film promotion because it is one of the few promotional vehicles through which independents and majors can be assessed with similar criteria. The nature of the Internet is such that anyone with a computer and Internet access (and we can say that most filmmakers in the United States have these) can create a Web site. Indeed, this leveled playing field was the catalyst for the success of The Blair Witch Project, prompting major studios to join the online competition for audiences. The major studios had to adapt their traditional marketing practices to encompass new technologies; oftentimes, they have found the Internet particularly conducive to locating target audiences, giving those audiences multiple ways in which they can interact with an entire film brand. Independent filmmakers, for whom traditional marketing practices might be out of reach, have also been able to locate their target audiences. For them, the Internet is a useful and cheap marketing tool and is considered, according to The Ultimate Film Festival Survival Guide, as “the most important promotional tool for the independent filmmaker.”5 MAJOR STUDIO AND INDEPENDENT FILMS Major studio films (also termed “corporate” or “Hollywood”) are those produced within or distributed by major Hollywood studios; these studios include Paramount Pictures, Twentieth Century Fox, Warner Brothers, Universal Pictures, Walt Disney Pictures, and Sony Pictures. Janet Wasko describes the Hollywood film industry as “an industry that produces and distributes commodities, and thus is similar to other industries that manufacture and produce products for profit.”6 Thus, major studios are concerned primarily

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with generating revenues and maximizing profits, which is not surprising given the fact that these companies are part of multinational entertainment conglomerates.7 One must note that there are other production and distribution studios that exist outside the majors, but they are not classified as independents. Such studios are Lucasfilm and Lionsgate Films, which, although they maintain some level of autonomy from six major studios, also seek to maximize profits in order to compete with their major studio competitors. It is estimated that Lucasfilm generated over $1 billion in annual revenues in 2005.8 Lionsgate’s acquisition of a British film distribution company in 2005, for instance, according to Lionsgate’s CEO Jon Feltheimer, “is consistent with our commitment to make accretive, strategic transactions to accelerate our growth and enhance margins in our core businesses.”9 This frank admission of corporate objectives prompts me to categorize Lionsgate as a corporate studio. Applying a solid definition to “independent” is a less precise task. The term has been defined in myriad ways: “a film’s source of financing; the industrial affiliations of the film’s distributor; the sites in which the film is exhibited; the status of the talent in relation to Hollywood; and the ‘spirit’ of the film (usually interpreted to mean its aesthetic or generic ties to commercial or alternative media traditions).”10 Tzioumakis proposes that independence used in the context of describing film has developed into a discourse to reinforce power dynamics, particularly those that manifest in industrial or economic relations.11 We can witness appropriation of the term independent by major studios to create meaning that suits corporate objectives of profit-seeking. This manifests most obviously in the so-called indie or specialty divisions of major studios, which specialize in art-house or foreign fare. While these labels (such as 20th Century Fox’s Fox Searchlight, Disney’s Miramax, or Warner Brothers’ Warner Independent Pictures) produce and/or distribute quite different films from their mainstream studio counterparts, they still face the same profit imperatives as their sibling and parent divisions. Therefore, even though these divisions very often acquire independently produced films, the investment of money and labor into these films’ marketing campaigns drastically changes the tone and nature of promotional Web sites as these are vehicles through which the company can draw revenue. Independent films, on the other hand, generally have small budgets (as low as a few hundred dollars) with unknown cast and crew and rely on alternative and more readily accessible modes of promotion (the Internet or the film festival circuit, for example) to secure interest and, possibly, eventual distribution. An independent filmmaker’s access to resources will determine the function and style of the Web site in ways that are very different from major studio counterparts.

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MOVIE WEB SITES—A RANGE OF PROMOTIONAL APPROACHES As mentioned previously, Adam Finn and others examined movie Web sites according to four characteristics, modifying four levels of general Web marketing activity to apply to movie promotion. These characteristics are: 1. Communication: Web sites communicate promotional messages about the film using movie reviews, links to film listings in newspapers, or ticket purchase sites such as Fandango.com or Movietickets.com. 2. Sales: Web sites sell traditional products, such as DVDs, soundtracks, or film-related merchandise. 3. Content: Web sites provide content as a supplemental service for narrower market segments, which might include behind-the-scenes footage or interviews with cast and crew. 4. Networking: Web sites provide an arena for networking among audiences through online chat rooms or discussion boards.

The characteristic of sales, coupled with many of the parameters that define the communication category, reflect overall promotional goals of generating revenue through the sale of theatrical tickets, home videos, and film-related merchandise. Therefore, I have collapsed them into one category: sales. The second two, content and networking, reflect goals of maximizing audience interaction to develop demand for the films themselves. I have expanded the content characteristic to incorporate those portions of the communication category that do not explicitly address sales, which include the use of movie reviews. Therefore, my adapted framework does away with the communication category altogether. While Finn and other’s framework encompasses a general range of possible movie Web site activities, it was not originally used to identify differences in the motivations of Web sites’ producers. Finn et al. compare how Canadian and American producers/distributors use the Internet as a promotional vehicle, concluding that Canadian films might perform better at the box office if they took advantage of the potential of Web marketing. Fred Zufryden also concludes that a well-designed movie Web site is an important component of a film’s promotional strategy.12 However, both of these studies assume that all movie Web sites set out to achieve the same goals; I contend, however, that major film studios and independent filmmakers differ greatly in their motivations for Web site function. This reverberates to the intended role of the Web site visitor as well, in that producers have certain audience expectations and assess the value of the audience in very different ways. An analysis of 50 Web sites for American narrative feature films provides the basis for my evaluation of motivations and intended audience interaction. By paying particular attention to the characteristics of sales, content, and

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networking, we can examine Web sites in terms of written content, links, and graphics. What is the tone of the content? Can we tell who wrote it? How sophisticated is the Web site’s design? The user’s initial contact with the Web site is a key element because it provides clues as to the Web site creator’s expectations of the Web site user. The links on the main page, for example, indicate how the user is supposed to interact with the site. We can observe three streams of Web site–based promotional efforts, two of which serve primarily corporate goals of maximizing revenue through saturated merchandising and fan devotion through monetary gestures, while the third relies on organic viral marketing. The elements featured on corporate Web sites (or those residing within the first two streams) indicate an overarching goal: to maximize revenue generation. Therefore, Web sites for major studio films contain a multiplicity of purchase opportunities. Every content- and networking-based feature works toward reinforcing sales. Even when fan interaction is a Web site’s chief feature, with content and networking features serving that interaction, profit maximization is still the Web site’s primary function. Conversely, independently produced Web sites (in the third stream) favor content and networking and tend to offer very few purchase opportunities. These sites focus on building relationships with fans in order to build audiences for their films. While I do not intend to say that all Web sites fit into one of these three categories, these three types, as outlined in the following table and later, do provide a useful way of thinking about how a given Web site operates and what its design and content might say about its producers.

Table 3.1 Type of Film Website

Types of Websites for Online Film Promotion Function

Focus (according to revised Film et al. model)

Examples

Extension of Traditional Media

Opportunities to buy merchandise saturate the website

Sales

King Kong, Fun With Dick and Jane, The Guardian

Controlled Interactivity

Fans prove their devotion through the purchase of merchandise

Networking and content in service of sales

The Chronicles of Narnia, Star Wars

Organic and Word-ofMouth Marketing

Filmmaker relates Networking and personal journey content of the process of filmmaking

The Last Romantic, LOL, Deadroom

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EXTENSION OF TRADITIONAL MEDIA—SATURATED MERCHANDISING The Internet as an extension of traditional media is the most prominent way in which major studios use the Internet to promote movies. Within Finn et al.’s framework, major studios primarily sell products on their film Web sites. They do use such interactive features as supplemental content and networking in order to entice and retain audiences. I contend, though, that these Web sites include such content only to support the central objective of generating sales. Appealing to a broad audience is a subordinate effort. The underlying assumption is that if more people visit a film’s Web site and make repeat visits, more tickets and related merchandise will be sold, thereby serving the central objective of maximizing sales. Major studios incorporate Web sites into their promotional strategies as a method of reaching targeted audiences. Studios’ movie Web sites typically feature the same content as they would offer in other promotional mediums: trailers, cross-promotions and tie-ins, and reminders to buy movie-related merchandise. These are all used to feed studios’ main objectives, which are, according to Janet Wasko and other film industry scholars, to generate as much revenue as possible for a given movie.13 The Internet simply allows major studios to provide this content in a more synergistic package; instead of offering purchase opportunities in piecemeal newspaper or television ads, the Internet provides a one-stop shop for studios to entice consumers with a complete arsenal of purchase opportunities. Regardless of whether the film is currently being released in theaters or on home video, the Web site is consistently used to promote merchandise; the focus merely shifts from buying tickets to preordering or ordering the DVD. Universal Pictures’ 2005 film King Kong is an example of how a major studio created an all-inclusive Web site to encourage audience interactivity with a film’s Web site with the goal of buying tickets and film-related merchandise.14 From one’s very first interaction with the King Kong Web site on its home page, a visitor to the site notices that opportunities to purchase movie-related items are continually reinforced. The site features no less than four reminders that the DVD of King Kong is available for purchase; one of these reminders links to the Universal Studios Home Video and DVD Web site. Should the visitor be reticent to purchase the DVD, the film’s trailer plays automatically as the page loads as temptation to see the film. The home page is also rife with cross-promotions, from Papa Johns pizza to The Sci-Fi Boys (another of director Peter Jackson’s feature films) to a King Kong game to a King Kong MasterCard offer. Clicking on “Enter the Site,” the visitor is led to another page that includes more reminders that the DVD is available for purchase. Links line the bottom of this page: “Mobile” links to Gameloft.com where cell phone ringtones, games, and wallpapers are available for purchase;

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“Trailer” features the theatrical trailer, enticing visitors to want to see the full film; “Game” links to Peter Jackson’s King Kong—The Official Game of the Movie, available for purchase for all major game platforms; “Soundtrack” links to the music composer’s Web site, where visitors can purchase the movie soundtrack from Amazon.com or iClassics.com, a division of Universal Music Classics Group; “Kongisking.net,” a production-related forum; “Partners,” which brings up links to various companies involved in cross-promotions and tie-ins (Nestle Crunch, Papa Johns Pizza, and Kodak EasyShare Gallery, among others); and “Own the DVD now!,” which yet again gives the site visitor the opportunity to own one or all of six versions of the film. The “Kongisking.net” forum presents itself as a Web site for fans to interact with the film. However, one cannot help but be overwhelmed with purchase opportunities: the King Kong DVD Countdown lists the number of days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the Deluxe Extended Edition DVD and Deluxe Extended Limited Edition DVD are released. If fans can’t wait for the release of these versions, they are encouraged to purchase other DVDs, such as The World of Kong: A Natural History of Skull Island, the film’s Production Diaries, the 1933 King Kong 2-Disc Special Edition, and The King Kong Collection, all conveniently linked to Amazon.com for easy purchase. One can also apply for the King Kong MasterCard here. While King Kong can be cited as one of the most blatant examples of saturated merchandising, we can examine the Web sites of various other major releases to see similar trends. The Web site for Sony Pictures’ Fun With Dick and Jane, for example, continually reminds the visitor that the movie is available for purchase on DVD and PSP (PlayStation Portable).15 A graphic of the actual DVD case is prominently displayed as reinforcement of this message, and visitors are able to click a link, “About the DVD,” in order to find out more information about the product they will be buying. Production notes, photographs, and other content-related items are featured on this Web site; a prominently displayed graphic reminding the visitor to purchase the DVD or PSP version of the film never leaves the top right quadrant of the Web page. Similarly, the Web site for The Guardian (distributed by Disney-owned Buena Vista Pictures) features a permanent heading, during the film’s theatrical release, that encouraged the visitor to be “First in Line, Online!” by buying tickets from an online ticketing service.16 Once the DVD was released, The Guardian’s Web site began to prominently display advertisements to purchase the DVD, including notifications that an alternate ending for the movie is but one of many special features on the DVD. Also, the “Mobile” page sells various ringtones and wallpaper for cell phones. Granted, this Web site does feature quite an extensive collection of content that reminds us that the film is about Coast Guard rescuers. No matter which area of content the site visitor chooses to view, however, there is never any question as to when

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the movie will be released in theaters or, later, on DVD. Each of these content pages has an announcement: “The Guardian. Risk Everything 9/29.” Soon, this statement is replaced with a similar announcement: “The Guardian. On DVD January 23.” We can observe similar trends on the Web sites for films released through the specialty divisions of major distributors, such as The Thing About My Folks, released by Picturehouse (a company formed by New Line Cinema and HBO, both owned by Time Warner).17 These films are marketed to specialized and often discerning audiences interested in the quality of the film in terms of acting and writing. Web sites for these types of films still reflect the overall goal of maximizing revenue. The Web site features the film’s actors, Peter Falk and Paul Reiser, bantering about the Web site’s usefulness in “finding out where to see the movie.” A DVD case of the movie sits in the very center of the screen, reminding the viewer that the film is now available for purchase; a link to a New Line Cinema store facilitates that purchase. These sites reveal the overall objectives of major studios to turn films into havens of merchandise possibilities. With regards to Finn et al.’s rubric, these Web sites encourage viewing of the films in all of their various formats; indeed, they actively sell tickets and home videos. More prominently and, arguably, fundamentally important to the film’s distributor, these sites offer limitless opportunities to purchase movie-related merchandise. King Kong, as a highly marketed blockbuster movie, represents an intense display of purchase opportunities that outweighs the merchandising on many other studio film Web sites. It is, however, not unreasonable to say that if the market for merchandise affiliated with other films such as The Guardian or Fun With Dick and Jane existed in as many forms as it does for King Kong, these Web sites would feature more merchandise. CONTROLLED INTERACTIVITY—SELLING DEVOTION Some films are more conducive to maximizing site visitor interaction in that they encourage fan participation. Web sites for these films continue to encourage sales of tickets and merchandise, but they are more firmly couched within interactive features. These film Web sites enable studios to secure a loyal fan base in such a way that fans feel less manipulated and therefore more like integral participants in the film’s success. Often, these films are blockbuster franchises (high-budget films with sequels) with a pre-existing dedicated fan base that has carried over from the text’s previous incarnation as another media form, such as a book, graphic novel, comic, or video game. Web site visitors are reminded again and again that the text exists in a variety of formats, whether it is a film or book or game, and they are encouraged to choose their preferred format through

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which to interact with the text. They are also encouraged to express their own interpretations of the text through films and blogs. The Star Wars franchise is the quintessential example of a franchise that is promoted online to cultivate fan loyalty and interaction in order to sell tickets and merchandise. Lucasfilm established the official Star Wars Web site in 1996 as the studio recognized the promotional potential of the Internet well ahead of its contemporaries and even before the success of The Blair Witch Project.18 It built a large and sophisticated community of Star Wars-affiliated Web sites and generated a giant web of fan sites dedicated to some aspect of Star Wars, of which the latest installment of the series, Episode III—Revenge of the Sith (George Lucas, 2005), is part. The main features of this Web site emphasize membership and community first and foremost.19 Visitors are encouraged to sign in to the site as recognized members of the community; if they are not yet members, they are encouraged to become members. A selection of fan blogs is featured on the home page, as are profiles of artists who have worked in some capacity with the Star Wars universe and fan-created films. A “Community” button provides links to news and events, fan clubs, message boards, and blogs, among others. Fan involvement is free of cost if one is content to participate on a basic and minimal level. Fans are, however, given plentiful opportunities to interact with the film franchise by purchasing services and merchandise that provide what can be perceived as a much more fulfilling experience. At $39.95 for an annual membership, the Official Star Wars Fan Club, Hyperspace, has been “created to unify and spotlight worldwide fan activity, give exclusive inside access to the cast and crew of the movies, provide a way to buy really cool exclusive stuff, and most of all . . . to celebrate Star Wars.”20 This membership also permits fans to create an officially sanctioned Star Wars blog, which is linked on the Star Wars Web site. Fan involvement of this nature was, in 2001, offered gratis; with an estimated minimum of 12,000 blogs at the time of this writing, this type of fan involvement has turned into a guaranteed moneymaker for Lucasfilm. Film franchise Web sites are deft at reminding its audiences that they are indeed franchises and that there are multiple other ways to interact with a text. Because many of these films derive from other media (novels or games, for example), there are many different ways in which a potential audience member might learn of the franchise. Lucasfilm is adept at exploiting these multiple points of entry, both to garner new audiences and to expand a fan’s engagement with the text to include various formats, be they books or films or collectibles. A quiz on the Web site asks, “What do you know of Shadows of Empire? ” (Shadows of Empire is a novel that builds on the Star Wars film saga.) Visitors are prompted with answers such as: “I read the novel,” “I read the comics,” “I played the game,” and “I collected the toys.” The fan is alerted that this story exists not only in the form of a novel but also as a comic, a game,

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and various toys. Therefore, a fan’s interaction with a text is defined by their interaction with commodified products. And regardless of one’s point of entry, the Star Wars Web site assumes that fans will want to display their devotion monetarily. This is why, months before the release of The Phantom Menace, Lucasfilm “produced a poster-sized, color-coded chart circulated among the hundreds of Star Wars licensees that details, month by month, every merchandising and marketing event related to Star Wars from early last year [1996] until the millennium.”21 This admission of the use of formalized marketing strategies indicates expected results and has even been called “the most ambitious attempt to date to exploit a film franchise.”22 Other film franchises have arguably modeled their Web sites on Star Wars’ foray into online fan involvement. Disney’s The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is another such example.23 Based on a series of children’s books, this franchise released its first film in 2005, with a second film in the series to be released in 2008. Disney, the Web site’s producer, assumes an already dedicated audience base that has grown up with the Narnia book series; the Web site also seeks to cultivate a new generation of fans by introducing them to the series through the film adaptation. As is the case with Star Wars, there are multiple points of entry to access the text, and the Web site enables the site visitor to interact in any number of ways. A window in the center of the screen cycles through various options that the Web site offers (buy the DVD, play the game, read the books, etc.); these options are also all available along the toolbar at the top of the screen and alongside this center window. No one item is emphasized more than the others—not even those options that encourage the visitor to purchase merchandise. The Narnia Web site seeks to engage fans through an “Ultimate Fan Contest,” the winner of which will visit the production set of the second Narnia film and have their experience documented and posted on the Narnia Web site. While certainly not as interactive as Star Wars fan participation, Narnia fans can submit photographs or videos of themselves that illustrate their dedication to the series. Nick, from Astoria, New York, submitted a picture of himself dressed as a character from Narnia and writes: “I made my outfit for a Halloween party, and I’ve taken it to a rain forest in Puerto Rico to take additional photos.”24 This level of fan dedication is rewarded; Nick became a finalist in the Ultimate Fan Contest. While not as complex as Star Wars or even Narnia in terms of participation, the Web site for Saw II, one film in a four-part franchise, also incorporates many of the elements of this Web site model.25 The terminology used on the Web site connotes an interaction on the part of the fans; visitors are invited to “engage,” “experience,” and “participate.” An example of participation is the “Post Your Fear” section, which is a discussion board on which visitors can post entries about things that scare them, upload accompanying

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pictures, and leave their email addresses, which serves to, presumably, verify the authenticity of the postings. There is also a link to the Saw III message board, on which fans can interact with each other. It is assumed, however, that fans will express their interest in the franchise by purchasing merchandise, and there are endless opportunities to do so. Half of the home page screen is taken up with a graphic of the Saw II DVD case (“Own it on DVD!”). When the Web site invites fans to “engage” with the movie, it means that fans will buy the DVD, mobile phone ringtones, the soundtrack, and iPod downloads. Truly dedicated fans will even seek collectible items; thus, an “auction” is offered in which props, autographs, and other items are open for bidding. Film franchises, with their origination often in other media forms, tend to have built-in audiences, and it is the exploitation of these audiences that provides studios with the means to achieve their promotional ends: to maximize sales. Finn et al. deem the use of the Internet for networking and to relay content as significant in movie marketing campaigns. It is obvious that film franchises like Star Wars use the Internet for these purposes. One must remember, though, that Lucasfilm and others do so in subservience to the overarching objective of maximizing revenue. Their strategy is somewhat different than that employed for nonfranchise films because they must cultivate audience loyalty and sustained interest in the franchise as more films in the series are released. Therefore, these Web sites tend to emphasize the availability of multiple points of entry in order to maximize the reach of potential audiences. Essentially, they are saying that the fans do not need to interact with the film, per se; any interaction with the franchise as a whole is sufficient, so long as a purchase is made. ORGANIC VIRAL MARKETING—A PERSONAL JOURNEY With comparatively fewer resources at their disposal than their corporate counterparts, independent filmmakers and small distributors must find ways to connect with film audiences so that those audiences serve as film promoters themselves. One can say that this is the independent filmmaker and small distributor’s primary promotional goal. Thus, these filmmakers are drawn to the sort of campaign modeled by The Blair Witch Project; this campaign, initiated by fans, was allowed to develop organically and virally and turned out to be an inexpensive and extremely efficient mode of promoting the film. Networking and content are key characteristics in the design and structure of these Web sites because their intended audiences seem to be drawn to the do-it-yourself nature of independent filmmaking. While a precise definition of the term viral marketing has been contested, several agree that viral marketing is a “process of encouraging honest

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communication among consumer networks.”26 The word organic is attached to viral marketing to denote a natural development of the communicative and networking process. The independent filmmaker relies primarily on Web site visitors to promote the film; as such, he or she places a great deal of trust in the role and activity of the audience. In contrast, while major film studios often incorporate viral marketing into their promotional campaigns, they do not rely solely on this tactic to promote their films. As mentioned earlier, television and newspaper advertising still represent the majority of a film’s marketing budget. Independent filmmakers often wear many different hats: They design the film’s Web site, conduct promotions, and interact personally with fans. All this happens, often, while they continue working to finish the film for which the Web site exists. Independent filmmakers emphasize their personal journeys on their Web sites; with relatively limited resources, there is little else to include. This entrée into the filmmaker’s world, via the Web site, is often met with active fan support of the film. Fans will then often spread word about the film in various online and offline venues. Thus, one promotional strategy of the independent film Web site is to make the film and the filmmakers accessible to audiences. The Web site for the film LOL is such an example.27 Made for $3,000, LOL enjoyed its theatrical debut at the 2006 South by Southwest (SXSW) Film Festival in Austin, Texas. Joe Swanberg, the film’s director (and writer/ producer/cast member), has maintained a production journal blog since the film’s inception. The blog’s entries carry an informal tone, giving the impression that the reader is participating in a comfortable conversation with Swanberg as he relates the ups and downs of independent filmmaking. “I am really excited about the fact that LOL has no real ‘cringe’ areas for me. I’m sure I will notice plenty of cringe-worthy things as I spend more time with the finished cut, but it’s nice and fresh right now, and I’m able to watch it and almost enjoy it.”28 Similarly, the Web site for Deadroom encourages its audience to visit the directors’ personal blogs, which offer a glimpse into their lives.29 These blogs serve to not only promote this film; they also document the filmmakers’ musings about other film projects. And the blog for The Cassidy Kids monitors every stage in the film’s production, from its submission to the Sundance Film Festival (Sundance turned down the film) to colorcorrecting the film print to recapping a radio interview with the director prior to the SXSW Festival in 2006.30 On the LOL Web site, Swanberg gives site visitors other opportunities to get to know him. They can communicate directly with him by posting responses to his blog, and Swanberg also posts a link to the film’s MySpace online community Web site. In addition to delivering film-related information, this site also features links to the film’s actors’ personal MySpace profiles (as well as Swanberg’s profile) and allows others to connect their MySpace

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profiles back to the LOL MySpace site.31 The producers of The Last Romantic also utilize MySpace to provide a more comprehensive Web site about the film; in fact, the movie’s official Web site is fairly minimalist, while the directors’ personal blogs are updated through MySpace.32 A significant element differentiating the organic and viral marketing Web site from that of a major studio film is the distinct lack of focus on sales. Unlike studio sites, which are saturated with merchandise purchase opportunities, LOL does not feature any links to merchandise. The filmmakers would rather their film is seen rather than make money: “[We are] all trying to figure out ways to get the movie into as many hands as possible. We all agree that giving out free DVDs is a good start, so keep checking in to find out how to get your free copy of the movie in April.”33 There are products that the LOL Web site could sell but that are instead available for free; 12 songs from the film’s soundtrack, for example, are downloadable without cost, and the site offers a free subscription to an iTunes video podcast. Even intentions to sell merchandise fall short and with seemingly little concern; the Deadroom Web site notes, “This film should be available for purchase in early 2006,” but the home video was still not available months later.34 While these freebies do often serve as calling cards of sorts for independent filmmakers hoping to break into the mainstream industry, they also signal a common belief that films should be accessible to their communities of audiences. Independent films especially are community efforts that continue to rely on their communities even after production has wrapped. Only when an independently produced film is picked up for distribution does its Web site begin to change tone. The extent to which it changes, however, is reflected in the kind of company that distributes the film. For example, The Oh in Ohio is distributed theatrically by Cyan Pictures, a small New York–based distribution company. Its Web site retains the feel of other independently produced Web sites, with links to festival appearances and critical accolades.35 The option of buying tickets to the movie is the only purchase opportunity on this Web site; one must click to another Web site in order to do so. The Web site for Boynton Beach Club features the independent aesthetic even more prominently.36 After this film secured distribution from the partnered independent distributors Samuel Goldwyn Films and Roadside Attractions, this Web site’s home page was redesigned to reflect a more stylish approach to promotion, with flash animation and a trailer that automatically plays when the page is loaded. When one clicks on “Enter Website,” however, we are led to what one can assume is the original Web site used prior to the film’s distribution deal. With amateurish design, a mish-mash of fonts, and text-heavy pages, the Web site relies on content to fill its pages. There are no purchase opportunities; there are no networking opportunities either. It is a purely functional Web site, linking to production notes and cast and crew biographies, as a supplement to the film.

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Lacking the financial wherewithal of their corporate counterparts, independent filmmakers rely on the cultivation of relationships with audiences to generate support for their films. They also use the Internet to offer information to potential distributors and film critics. The Internet has been the most effective tool with which to do so, particularly because of its accessible, affordable, and interactive characteristics. In accordance with Finn et al.’s model, Web sites are used for networking and to offer content, so that filmmakers like Swanberg can develop a rapport with fans. Purchase opportunities are almost nonexistent on these Web sites—while the filmmakers may have little to sell, they may also prefer to give unlimited access to a project of love. The independent filmmaker’s long-range marketing plan tends not to include color-coded charts à la Star Wars; in fact, a film’s promotional timeline often does not extend beyond film festival submission. CONCLUSION As movie attendance in theaters takes a hit (the Motion Picture Association of America reports that ticket sales have declined 11.5% from 2002 to 2006), major studios continually seek ways to reach audiences in order to draw them into theater seats.37 And as theater attendance declines, the reliance on ancillary markets continues to rise, and major studios pour even more resources toward sales of home videos and film-related merchandise to generate revenue. The potential for some film properties is huge; New Line Cinema has reportedly generated upwards of $2.5 billion from worldwide sales of The Lord of the Rings merchandise that includes home videos, action figures, videogames, and apparel, among other goods.38 Certainly, few films promise this phenomenal level of profits, but with DVD sales dipping (2007 saw the first decline of DVD sales by 4.5% since the format was introduced 10 years prior), studios look to expand all opportunities for revenue; this objective centrally underlies most major studio films’ Web sites.39 The major studios witnessed the success of The Blair Witch Project and thought they had found the secret ingredient to harnessing audiences and ensuring a successful theatrical and home video run. They have tried to emulate the most successful elements of the online promotional campaign, failing to realize that some of the most successful parts are successful because of something that is difficult for major studio sites to replicate: The filmmaker relates his or her personal journey taken with the film. Hollywood has undoubtedly tried to utilize this element, as studio film Web sites often feature production notes and director’s commentary. One can’t help but wonder, however, who is behind the production of these features and if they are created primarily to be included on special edition DVDs. Major studio-backed directors such as Peter Jackson, who directed the 2005 version of King Kong, face a different set of problems with filmmaking

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than their independent counterparts, which makes them less accessible to the average audience member. While one can say that Peter Jackson is traveling a personal journey with his film (which he does do on the King Kong Web site), he does not face the same trials as Joe Swanberg, for whom filmmaking is more financially risky. In an online video production diary, Jackson counts down the time before King Kong is released in theaters around the world. When he then attends the film’s world premiere in Wellington, New Zealand, Jackson thanks the “thousands and thousands of people” who helped with his film, as fans hug giant inflatable bananas.40 Joe Swanberg, on the other hand, counts down the days until a given film festival submission deadline, to which his film may or may not be accepted. The film is finally accepted and so Swanberg relates the experience of his film’s world premiere at the SXSW Film Festival in 2006: “We had the World Premiere. It was great. We’re all sick and tired and doing our best not to fall asleep at the parties. This is really the first bit of time I have had to sit down and write anything. It’s been non-stop since we arrived in Austin.”41 The categories of Web sites set forth here serve to begin the process of understanding how film studios and individual filmmakers use the Internet for promotional purposes. They highlight how disparately the Internet is approached depending on the entity that creates the Web site, for differences in resources and expectations of the audience alter the purpose of Web site promotion. The categories are not intended to be the definitive voice on Internet movie marketing; they can only describe the state of movie Web sites as they appear today. With rapidly evolving technological features and equipment, tomorrow may yield an entirely new approach to using the Internet in a film promotion campaign. As illustrated by the Web site for LOL and other independently produced films, we can observe that the social networking Web site MySpace is a significant component of the promotional campaign. The major studio film Web sites examined here did not utilize this feature; only very recently has MySpace been incorporated as a vital component for major studios. We are now starting to witness the integration of YouTube, a videosharing Web site, as a marketing tool, primarily for independent filmmakers. Susan Buice and Arin Crumley’s film Four Eyed Monsters (2005) became the first feature film to be premiered in full on YouTube. It has been the trend for independent filmmakers to first explore alternative modes of online film promotion. Only once these alternative modes have proven successful do major studios copy those tactics, translating strategies into those that fit more firmly within major studios’ promotional goals. Whether or not those strategies translate to encompass corporate objectives, such as maximizing sales to benefit the bottom line, is often subject to interpretation. Because there is relatively little research on online film marketing, there is much room for the development of ways to analyze promotional campaigns.

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This study denotes ways in which both independents and majors have adapted their practices to encompass new technologies. We can extend the distinctions made here to analyze Web sites of other kinds of movies not explored here; how do we understand activist-oriented Web sites for some documentaries? Where do foreign-produced film Web sites fit, given a range of resource availability and more practical, offline modes of promotion in other regions of the world? This structure can also perhaps be used to analyze other media through which film is promoted. Where and how do we observe the promotional objectives of sales, networking, and content in other media? Just as important, though, is the distinction between corporate and independent promotion. The Internet provides a chance for majors and independents to compete with each other on the relatively level playing field; their success is determined by how they are both able to hone their strategies. How, then, might we analyze other circumstances of corporate versus independent promotion in other media? This study is intended to initiate a more structured conversation into how the parameters of film promotion are defined. With technology constantly changing the online promotion landscape, these parameters are constantly shifting, but here, they are frozen for a moment in time so that we may examine them a little more closely. NOTES 1. Christopher Grove, “Web Gaming has Revenue Potential,” Variety, February 29, 2000, http://www.variety.com/summit/article.asp?articleID=1117776054 (accessed November 2000). 2. Michael Stroud, “Blair Witch Casts Strong Spell,” Wired Online, August 2, 1999, http://www.wired.com/news/news/culture/story/21045.html (accessed November 2000). 3. Motion Picture Association, U.S. Entertainment Industry: 2006 Market Statistics (Los Angeles: Motion Picture Association Worldwide Market Research and Analysis, 2006), 19. 4. Adam Finn et al., “Marketing Movies on the Internet: How Does Canada Compare to the U.S.?” Canadian Journal of Communication 25 (2000), 367–76. 5. Chris Gore, The Ultimate Film Festival Survival Guide, 2nd ed. (Hollywood: iFilm Publishing, 2001), 80. 6. Janet Wasko, How Hollywood Works (London: Sage Publications, 2003), 2. 7. Viacom is the parent company of Paramount Pictures; News Corporation heads up Twentieth Century Fox; Time Warner is the parent company of Warner Brothers; General Electric is the parent company of NBC Universal, which runs Universal Pictures; Sony Corporation runs Sony Pictures; and the Walt Disney Corporation owns Walt Disney Pictures. 8. Laura M. Holson, “Is There Life After ‘Star Wars’ for Lucasfilm?” The New York Times, May 1, 2005, Section 3, 1.

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9. Lionsgate, “Lions Gate Entertainment Acquires Leading UK Filmed Entertainment Distributor Redbus Film Distribution Limited,” Lionsgate Films press release, October 18, 2005, http://www.lionsgate.com/investors/pdf/redbus.pdf (accessed March 2, 2006). 10. Alisa Perren, “A Big Fat Indie Success Story? Press Discourses Surrounding the Making and Marketing of a ‘Hollywood’ Movie,” Journal of Film and Video, 56, no. 2 (2004), 20. 11. Yannis Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema: An Introduction (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2006). 12. Fred Zufryden, “New Film Website Promotion and Box-Office Performance,” Journal of Advertising Research (January–April 2000), 55–64. 13. Janet Wasko, “Show Me the Money: Challenging Hollywood Economics,” In Toward a Political Economy of Culture: Capitalism and Communication in the TwentyFirst Century, ed. Andrew Calabrese and Colin Sparks (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2004), 131–50. 14. King Kong, directed by Peter Jackson, 2005, Universal Pictures, http://www. kingkong.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 15. Fun With Dick and Jane, directed by Dean Parisot, 2005, Sony Pictures Releasing, http://www.sonypictures.com/homevideo/funwithdickandjane/index.html (accessed October 28, 2006). 16. The Guardian, directed by Andrew Davis, 2006, Buena Vista Pictures (Disney), http://theguardian.movies.go.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 17. The Thing About My Folks, directed by Raymond de Felitta, 2005, Picturehouse Entertainment, http://www.myfolksmovie.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 18. Sally Kline, ed., George Lucas: Interviews (Conversations with Filmmakers Series) (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1999). 19. Star Wars: Episode III—Revenge of the Sith, directed by George Lucas, 2005, Lucasfilm and Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, http://www.starwars.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 20. Lucasfilm, “Hyperspace Frequently Asked Questions,” Star Wars Hyperspace, 2006, http://www.starwars.com/hyperspace/about/faq.html (accessed October 15, 2006). 21. James Sterngold, “The Media Business: Advertising; The Return of the Merchandiser,” The New York Times, January 30, 1997, D1. 22. Ibid. 23. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, directed by Andrew Adamson, 2005, Buena Vista Pictures (Disney), http://disney.go.com/ disneypictures/narnia (accessed October 28, 2006). 24. “Ultimate Fan Contest Finalists,” The Chronicles of Narnia, http://disney.go.com/ disneypictures/narnia/fanclub/fanclub_winners.html (accessed October 28, 2006). 25. Saw II, directed by Darren Lynn Bousman, 2005, Lionsgate Films, http://www. saw2.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 26. Joseph E. Phelps et al., “Viral Marketing or Electronic Word-of-Mouth Advertising: Examining Consumer Responses and Motivations to Pass Along Email,” Journal of Advertising Research 44, no. 4 (2004), 333–48. 27. LOL, directed by Joe Swanberg, 2006, Washington Square Films, http://www. lolthemovie.com (accessed October 28, 2006).

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28. Joe Swanberg, “Working Full Time,” LOL—The Movie—Production Journal, December 6, 2005, http://www.lolthemovie.com/archive/2005_12_01_archive.html (accessed March 24, 2006). 29. Deadroom, Directed by James M. Johnston, David Lowery, Nick Prendergast, and Yen Tan, 2005, Unauthorized Productions and Red Dog Films, http://www. deadroommovie.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 30. The Cassidy Kids, Directed by Jacob Vaughan, 2006, Switchfilm and Burnt Orange Productions, http://switchfilm.com/blog/the_cassidy_kids (accessed October 28, 2006). 31. “LOL,” MySpace profile, http://www.myspace.com/lolthemovie (accessed October 9, 2007). 32. “The Last Romantic,” MySpace profile, http://www.myspace.com/thelastroman ticmovie (accessed October 9, 2007); The Last Romantic, Directed by The Brothers Nee, 2006, August Films and Pop Fiction, http://www.augustfilms.tv/lastromantic/ index.html (accessed October 28, 2006). 33. Joe Swanberg, “It’s Finished (It’s Just Getting Started),” LOL—The Movie — Production Journal, February 23, 2006, http://www.lolthemovie.com/archive/2006_ 02_01_archive.html (accessed March 24, 2006). 34. The Web site itself was unavailable in early 2008, signaling the end of Deadroom’s online promotion. “News,” Deadroom, 2006, http://www.deadroommovie.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 35. The Oh in Ohio, Directed by Billy Kent, 2006, Cyan Pictures, http://www.theohin ohio.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 36. Boynton Beach Club, Directed by Susan Seidelman, 2005, Samuel Goldwyn Films and Roadside Attractions, http://www.boyntonbeachclubthemovie.com (accessed October 28, 2006). 37. Motion Picture Association, U.S. Entertainment Industry: 2006 Market Statistics (Los Angeles: Motion Picture Association Worldwide Market Research and Analysis, 2006), 6. 38. Janet Wasko and Govind Shanadi, “More than Just Rings: Merchandise for Them All,” in The Lord of the Rings: Popular Culture in Global Context, ed. Ernest Mathijs (London and New York: Wallflower Press, 2006), 29. 39. Sue Zeidler, “DVD Sales Fall for First Time,” ABC News.com, January 3, 2008, http://abcnews.go.com/Business/IndustryInfo/wireStory?id=4082841 (accessed January 10, 2008). 40. Peter Jackson, “The Final Production Diary,” The Kong is King.net—The History of King Kong, 2006, http://img-nex.kongisking.net/kong/movies/PPD-00Weeks ToGo_qt6_high.mov (accessed March 24, 2006). 41. Joe Swanberg, “Absolutely Crazy,” LOL—The Movie—Production Journal, March 14, 2006, http://www.lolthemovie.com/archive/2006_03_01_archive.html (accessed March 24, 2006).

chapter 4

Reacting Synergistically: Batman and Time Warner Kimberly A. Owczarski

The first extended look at Warner Bros.’ Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005) immediately followed the May 2005 season finale of Smallville (2001– 2005), a television drama that centers on the life of young Clark Kent, otherwise known as the alter ego of Superman. This synergistic moment illustrates the power of contemporary media conglomerates in three distinct ways. First, a single media conglomerate was responsible for the production and airing of both the film and the television show. Produced by Warner Bros. Television, Smallville, like Batman Begins, was produced by a subsidiary of Time Warner. The airing network (the WB) was also owned by Time Warner. Second, the two superheroes’ histories have intertwined numerous times in multiple media forms, particularly in comic books because they were both created by DC Comics, another Time Warner subsidiary.1 Earlier in the decade, the two superheroes would have been pitted against each other in a feature film directed by Wolfgang Peterson had separate scripts relaunching each individual franchise not been preferred by Warner Bros. executives. Finally, the event was publicized highly through other arms of the conglomerate, including the magazine Entertainment Weekly, produced by a subsidiary of the company, Time Inc. The news of the Superman/Batman crossover was ushered in through the Entertainment Weekly Web site, often accessible through Time Warner’s Roadrunner high-speed Internet service. As this example demonstrates, the nature of media integration in contemporary Hollywood has grown increasingly complex as synergy takes place in the production and marketing aspects of the industry, as well in

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actual narrative construction. Synergy is a company’s attempt to bring “together groups of information and entertainment media that could be used to cross-promote each other’s products.”2 The key driving force in the pursuit of synergy is the franchise film, a specific branch of the blockbuster than can be exploited in multiple variations across media formats. The franchise film functions as “a two-hour promotion for a multimedia product line, designed with the structure of both the parent company and the diversified media marketplace in mind.”3 The franchise film is meant to be a launching pad for future movies, tie-in video games, and merchandise available at local department stores. The development of media conglomerates since the 1980s has ushered in an era of larger and larger franchises, in an effort to capitalize on a film’s success through (nearly) every arm of the company. In its 1993 Annual Report, Time Warner used the Batman franchise as its example for synergy. Radiating from the iconic Batman symbol used for the 1989 film were examples of the other media formats through which the property could be pushed: Comics, Licensing, Theatrical, Video, Pay TV, U.S. Network, Animation, Syndication, Theme Parks, and Music.4 Nearly each of these formats had a corresponding subsidiary within Time Warner. The Batman franchise thus exemplified Time Warner’s “World-Class Marketing and Distribution” capabilities across multiple media.5 While the Time Warner 1993 Annual Report uses the Batman franchise as its example of synergy, it does not directly state how that is achieved within the multimedia corporation other than to list the (potential) divisions involved in the process. This chapter is a case study of how the Batman franchise initially was used synergistically by Time Warner and how it continues to be a synergistic endeavor. In 1989, the successes of Batman at the box office and across multiple media functioned as a blueprint for synergy for the newly formed Time Warner. By the time Batman Begins was released, the company’s synergistic enterprises were working more in synch than anyone had anticipated in 1989, especially as the film’s promotions expanded into new media technologies. Ultimately, the Batman franchises provide an excellent case study of how the divisions of a conglomerate “react synergistically” to create and promote its key products. THE “AMAZING FUNCTIONS” OF BATMAN Each product only contains one component. The elements react synergistically, in combination. Hair spray won’t do it alone. But let’s say . . . hair spray and perfume and lipstick will be toxic and—untraceable. —Batman to Vicki Vale in Batman As Batman tells photojournalist Vicki Vale, one product is not enough—it is only in combination with other products that their greatest potential can

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be achieved. It is an apt insight about synergy by Batman given his place in Time Warner history. In 1989, a few months before the blockbuster Batman was released, Time Inc. and Warner Communications, Inc. ( WCI) announced the merger of the two companies, a merger that would create the largest multimedia corporation in the world. In the wake of this announcement, journalists and media analysts struggled with the meaning behind the spate of media mergers that occurred in the last half of the 1980s.6 In an article for The Nation in June 1989, Ben H. Bagdikian stressed: Each of these planetary corporations plans to gather under its control every step in the information process, from creation of “the product” to all the various means by which modern technology delivers media messages to the public. “ The product” is news, information, ideas, entertainment and popular culture; the public is the whole world.7

For Bagdikian, this trend was a worrying one particularly in regard to “the product,” for the corporations’ “grand strategy of synergism, increases what already is a drug on the market: commercially safe, generic, all-purpose books, films and TV programs.”8 In Bagdikian’s view, synergy stood as the base strategy of these newly forming and ever-increasing media conglomerates. Using the Batman franchise, Time Warner first put this strategy into action. With its theatrical release in June 1989, Batman became the first film to reach the $100 million mark at the domestic box office in only 10 days. In fact, the film shattered several box office records as it opened. In its first weekend at the box office, Batman broke the record for biggest Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and weekend openings ever.9 And by the end of its theatrical run, Batman emerged as second on the all-time domestic box office gross list, just behind E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (Steven Spielberg, 1982) and just before Return of the Jedi (Richard Marquand, 1983), with a domestic gross of $250 million.10 Batman also was a powerful merchandising vehicle, with over $500 million in retail sales by the end of the year.11 The two tie-in soundtracks performed solidly, and Batman comic book sales increased as a result of the film’s popularity. In reviewing the box office statistics for the films of the summer of 1989, David Ansen of Newsweek referred to Batman’s success as “a merchandising, musical and motion-picture grand slam of unprecedented proportions.”12 Although Time and Warner had not quite merged by the time of its theatrical release, Batman was the conglomerate’s first triumph, integrating synergy into every aspect of the production process. For example, in the preproduction process, producers Peter Guber and Jon Peters were concerned about the film’s eventual merchandising function. The producers wanted the screenplay to reflect more of Batman’s traditional gadgets, presumably to tie-in to merchandise and toys being developed in

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connection with the film. In regard to a scene where Bruce Wayne used a Filofax to stop a bullet, the producers asked for a Bat-gadget to be used instead, claiming that “ The point of a movie called BATMAN is to see BATMAN using a Bat device to be used to save him.” In a scene where Vicki Vale discussed bats with Batman, the producers noted: “Let’s make sure we see the various amazing functions of his cape.” When the Bat-signal was removed from the ending of the film, the producers asked, “[I]s it possible to use it elsewhere?” Finally, the producers were very concerned with the appearance of the Batmobile and responded to a scene where it was unclear what happened to the vehicle: “ We would really like to see it drive out unscathed.”13 Clearly, the producers’ emphasis on Batman’s gadgets was tied to issues of merchandising. Besides seeing to the merchandising aspects to the film, the producers also were involved in the creation of the film’s primary tie-in soundtrack by bringing in pop music star Prince. In addition to being a highly successful recording artist, Prince was also a key Warner’s commodity. He had released several albums through Warner Records, and Warner Bros. had also released his profitable film, Purple Rain (Albert Magnoli, 1984). The film featured a popular soundtrack by Prince — it was number one on the music charts for 24 consecutive weeks — and spawned several music videos.14 The origins of how Prince became involved with Batman are unclear; director Tim Burton was not sure if he was just interested in the project or if studio executives asked him to do it: I’m not sure how this happened. If it was from the producers, or Prince . . . wanted to do music for the film. That was probably my first introduction into the studio world of other things. . . . He was so prolific, and he just had done all of these songs. And a few of them felt like they were really good for the Joker. They were very Joker-esque kind of, kind of songs. So, but it was sort of a separate thing from, I mean, you know, I’m there making the movie, and then they had this whole idea for a concept album or whatever. . . . That was my, you know, first thing, first movie, where, and it was probably kind of the early beginnings for them in terms of marketing and things, you know. Like I had never heard the term franchise before, they never used it.15

What is clear is the synergy of the collaboration, even if Burton was not aware of those intentions.16 Prince’s concept album as well as the single “Batdance” and its music video were released before the film arrived in theaters. The video, described by one journalist as “the aural equivalent of a movie trailer,” featured Prince as a Gemini-type character whose costume reflects Batman on one side and the Joker on the other, both modeled on actual costumes worn by the characters in the film.17 “Batdance” also featured lines of dialogue taken directly from the film. In this regard, the use of the artist Prince, his tie-in

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soundtrack, and the music videos spawned by the album illustrated how WCI could push a product across multiple arms of the company. Another indication of WCI’s ability to push products across its multiple arms was its merchandising division, the Licensing Corp. of America (LCA), which licensed over 300 Batman items to 100 companies with products ranging from toys and clothes to sheets and other domestic products such as Batsoap on a rope.18 Because WCI had an in-company licensing source with LCA, each product sold in the marketplace earned the company between 6 and 10 percent of its wholesale price.19 Producers Guber and Peters decided to hold back many of the toys based on equipment featured in the film (including a utility belt, Batarang, and Batwing) until after the film opened in an attempt to build anticipation for the products. Indeed, merchandisers visited the production in order to view the sets, costumes, and props and also worked closely with production designer Anton Furst to develop toys that reflected the overall look of the film and characters.20 In preproduction meetings for Batman, producer Jon Peters told screenwriter Warren Skaaren that he would use his first draft as a “prototype of how I want things to be on all pictures before we go into production.”21 As the success of Batman reached from the box office to video sales to hundreds of millions of dollars in merchandise sales, it became clear that the film would be a “prototype” for other franchise films to follow, particularly with any Batman sequels. While waiting for the first forthcoming sequel, Time Warner needed to keep Batman at the forefront of popular culture. The company also continued to expand its media outlets, not only to push Batman and other corporate products in new dimensions but also to compete with rival conglomerates such as the Walt Disney Company. Throughout the 1990s, Time Warner engaged in a number of measures to promote its key properties, such as Batman, as well as to continue its status as the world’s largest media conglomerate. A year after the merger was completed, Time Warner as a whole encountered large losses as several divisions underperformed and the financial fallout from the merger was felt. Time Warner’s net losses in 1990 were $227 million, or approximately $13.67 per share.22 In 1991, the company lost $99 million, approximately $9.60 per share.23 In contrast, the smaller conglomerate of Disney earned $824 million in profits for 1990 and $817 million in profits for 1991, the second highest of the diversified service companies for both years.24 Key to Disney’s profits during those two years were synergistic franchises like The Little Mermaid, an animated film with a highly successful soundtrack and merchandising campaign. Clearly, Disney’s multimedia strategies for its key products were working for the company. In order to compete with one aspect of Disney’s dominant performance during this two-year period, Time Warner launched Warner Bros. Studio Stores in four malls in late 1991. Disney had opened over a hundred of its own retail stores over the past four years, and executives at Time Warner

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believed there would be a similar market for their company’s products. Disney’s stores were selling more than double the national average per square foot of retail space and provided an additional venue for synergy.25 Indeed, the Disney stores were the perfect opportunity to merge the studio’s various interests in its theme parks, television offerings, and films into one (consumable) retail space. Time Warner’s foray into the retail business had a similar goal. The first store, which opened in Beverly Hills in September 1991, featured larger-than-life figures of Batman and Superman, as well as a crawling space underneath Bugs Bunny for young children, and offered products ranging from animation cels to t-shirts to home furnishings. Sales at the 4 stores during the holiday season were so robust that the company pushed ahead to create 17 more retail stores within the next year. The opening of the Warner Bros. Studio Stores provided Time Warner with a direct retail space for the selling of products related to their key properties. According to Peter Starrett, Warner Bros. Senior Vice President and Director of Retail at the time, this was the main purpose for launching the stores: “[ T ]here was nothing that placed all the properties under one roof, into one cohesive state. . . . The studio stores bring us one step closer to the customer with the highest quality of Warner Bros. property.”26 In another attempt to compete with Disney, Time Warner also ventured into theme parks. In 1991, Time Warner joined with two other firms to take over the debt-ridden Six Flags Amusement Parks, creating Six Flags Entertainment. According to Robert Pittman, the Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Six Flags Entertainment, the corporate backing of Time Warner was a step to push the amusement parks in a more profitable direction by using the company’s key assets as promotional tools: “Now that it has an entertainment company behind it, we can reach into our movies, TV shows and characters the way Disney does.”27 In June 1992, the Six Flags Magic Mountain Park in California launched the Batman Stunt Show and Batman Nights: Fireworks & Laser Show. On the two shows’ impact on the parks, Pittman claimed Batman’s presence was a substantial benefit: Bringing Six Flags into the Time Warner family offered us an opportunity to take Batman, one of Time Warner’s premier properties, into an entertaining new sphere never available to us. . . . This is an example of how the brand influence of Time Warner holdings will be working together and helping each other.28

Indeed, Warner Bros. did benefit from this arrangement because the presence of the two shows provided further promotion for the next Batman film, which opened in June 1992. The presence of Batman at the Six Flags parks also helped spur admissions for 1992. In the Annual Report for 1992, Time Warner’s Chairman and

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Chief Executive Officer Gerald Levin composed a letter to shareholders that reiterated how properties like Batman work across the various arms of Time Warner, including Six Flags: Copyright protection makes our mission possible. With it, we are able to take the words and images we produce and sell them over and over, through many different media, in many different markets, for the lifetime of the copyright. Six Flags, for example, the theme-park company in which we own a 50% interest, made increasing use of Time Warner copyrights such as Looney Tunes, Batman, and Sports Illustrated to help achieve 1992’s record attendance.29

In addition to the two shows at the Magic Mountain Park, Six Flags had also initiated a highly successful Batman ride at its Great America theme park in Chicago in May 1992. Advertised as the first “suspended, outside-looping roller coaster,” Batman the Ride provided not only the thrilling experience of the ride itself but also of the property as well. With lines running over an hour and a half before boarding, visitors were enmeshed in the “Gotham City ‘environment’ ” as they waited.30 For a similar roller coaster that opened a year later at AstroWorld in Houston, Texas, George Ladyman, the Design Director of Six Flags, claimed that this environment was part of an immersive experience with the character’s world: “We design a lot differently from a film. . . . A film is purely visual, but here it’s three-dimensional. You can actually walk through ours. You can knock on the penguins.”31 The environment for the AstroWorld roller coaster, Batman: The Escape, was modeled on the 1992 film Batman Returns, and designers for the roller coaster actually visited the film’s sets.32 Indeed, both roller coasters used aspects of the film’s soundtracks in the waiting areas, either from the orchestral scores created by Danny Elfman, pop songs created by Prince, or snippets of dialogue from the films themselves. Thus, Time Warner merged aspects of its film, music, and amusement park capabilities through these Batman rides. In September 1992, a new animated program about Batman premiered on the Fox television network. Produced by Tim Burton, Batman: The Animated Series (1992 –1995) mimicked the dark and foreboding atmosphere of the 1989 and 1992 films.33 The show was initially geared toward older teens and young adults, which informed the approach taken for the animation style as well as the narrative construction. In December 1992, Fox began to premiere episodes of Batman: The Animated Series in prime time because reruns of the show that had aired in that time slot did better in the ratings than previously offered fare. Although the show was aimed at an older audience, Batman: The Animated Series did well with younger audiences, too. In Time Warner’s 1992 Annual Report, the show was highlighted as the top-rated daytime children’s show for ages 2–11 as well as for commanding the highest priced advertisement ever for an animated show aired during the day time.34

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All of these additional venues for Batman helped promote the film’s sequel, Batman Returns, when it was released in theaters in June 1992 and on video in October of the same year. Burton did not imagine the film as a sequel and referred to it as a further episode of the Batman story in interviews about the film. In the foreword to Batman Returns: The Official Movie Book, Burton explained this point clearly: So let me begin by saying that Batman Returns is not really a sequel to Batman. It doesn’t pick up where the first film left off. The sets for Gotham City are completely new. There are lots of new elements in the visuals and storyline that haven’t been seen before. Even Batman’s costume has been revised. The point was to make it all feel fresh and new. It was the only way I could envision the movie.35

Because of his success with the first film, Burton was given much more freedom with the sequel’s production. Executives at Time Warner treated the project as Burton’s personal film, hoping that a hands-off attitude would result in another Batman film that broke box office records. Rather than focus on Bruce Wayne or Batman, who are barely seen in the first 40 minutes of the film, he centered the story on the villainous exploits of the Penguin and Catwoman. Many reviewers remarked on how close these characters were to the outsider characters in previous Burton films and repeatedly used the word “personal” in their reviews to stress that they saw this film as an auteur’s, rather than a studio’s, work.36 Burton chose to include the song “Face to Face” from punk band Siouxie and the Banshees (of which he was a self-described fan) rather than music from a more accessible, mainstream artist, especially one that recorded for one of Warner’s many record labels. His choice not to select a Warner’s recording artist highlighted his refusal to engage in the synergistic wishes of the company. Although representatives from toy companies and other merchandising partners did have access to the Batman Returns set, as they did with the first film, Burton did not particularly welcome this aspect of the business. Indeed, he viewed it as a problem and distraction: [B]eyond that, the other aspects of it, the, you know, the, the merchandising, all that stuff that is now become such commonplace stuff was not a thing that I probably handled well, or dealt well with, or liked. So, the movie is the movie . . . You got a huge job just to make the movie. And, eh, so all of this other stuff is, is necessary to them, the studio and all the people, but for me it’s just more of a problem and distraction. And, eh, you know, it’s hard for me to tell, you know, a toy company what something’s going to look like when I don’t even know myself. You know, you get into that kind of stuff. And, eh, you know, then you keep wondering why you make,

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you know, a movie in like several months and it takes, you know, them the same time to make a T-shirt. You know, there’s a weird juxta . . . it’s a weird time warp, you know, with like how long you have and how long they have and need.37

His refusal to cooperate fully with the needs and desires of the merchandising partners may have helped spur the companies’ backlash against the franchise after Batman Returns opened. Before Burton had even agreed to direct and produce the second film, Time Warner had secured many high-profile merchandising deals for the Batman franchise. Directly after the success of Batman and its associated merchandise in 1989, representatives from Time Warner began to approach potential merchandising partners. Warner Bros. Worldwide Consumer Products, formerly LCA, had signed over a hundred licenses in the United States before the film opened with companies such as Kenner Toys, Ralston Purina (for a Batman-centered cereal), and Sears (for Batman boutiques in some 300 stores). Dan Romanelli, the president of Warner’s Consumer Products Division, believed this to be the logical next step in Batman merchandising: This is probably the strongest alignment of promotional and licensing agreements in history. . . . I think that ’89 was unprecedented, and I think this is going to be bigger. We didn’t have the animated series in 1989 and with that, the retail community and the licensees are very happy with that support.38

Indeed, Time Warner provided an additional forum for pushing Batman Returns products through advertising on the newly created Batman: The Animated Series, which was set to air on the Fox television network in the Fall. With the number of child-oriented licenses and the pending arrival of a new Batman-centered cartoon, Batman Returns was poised to be a film acceptable for young children. Like the first film, Batman Returns was rated PG -13 and many families brought younger children to see it. No doubt, the film’s tie-in toy and merchandising partners such as McDonald’s emphasized it as a film acceptable for smaller children. However, its graphic violence and content (which included electrocutions, a deformed baby, a mutant gang, and Catwoman dressed in fetishistic leather and wielding a whip) hardly seemed appropriate for younger viewers. As parents and parents’ groups complained to Time Warner and merchandising partners, it became clear that Burton had led the film franchise in a direction incompatible with the commercial interests of the company. As a result of the complaints McDonald’s received for its involvement with Batman Returns, the fast-food company changed its merchandising practices significantly, requiring extended looks at films before partnership agreements would even be considered. Toy sales were slow, and

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comic book sales were not positively affected by the film. Rather than driving the revenues of other divisions of Time Warner as the first film had done, Batman Returns became a public relations nightmare. THE “TOYETIC” BATMAN Although Batman Returns was Time Warner’s top film for the year and second in terms of domestic box office grosses for the entire industry, it was not considered a success. Batman Returns grossed $163 million at the domestic box office and propelled Warner Bros. to first place in market share for 1992, but its earnings were less than two-thirds of the first film. After the backlash Batman Returns suffered, Time Warner executives knew that a new direction for Batman was necessary if the franchise was to continue. Their first decision was to keep Burton from doing a third film even though he had been entertaining the thought of staying on for one more film. Instead, a director who had worked faithfully for the studio before, Joel Schumacher, was chosen to lighten up the series.39 Claimed Romanelli: “We knew we had a problem. . . . We knew that people felt the last film was kind of dark. We really turned around the feeling about Batman as a movie franchise, and Joel was key to that strategy.”40 In the film’s preproduction stage, Schumacher met with many potential merchandising partners to emphasize how he was changing the course of the franchise, and he also went to the Toy Fair with the same message.41 As a result of Schumacher’s and the studio’s efforts to convince partners that the film would have a lighter tone, Batman Forever attracted over 200 sponsors from products ranging from fast food to toothpaste. Even McDonald’s came back for the third film, convinced that the film would be more appropriate for younger viewers. Schumacher’s take on Batman worked. Batman Forever was the top grossing film for 1995, earning more than $184 million at the domestic box office. It set a new opening weekend box office record at $52.8 million. It was not just the box office figures, however, that made the film a success. Unlike the previous film, Batman Forever pushed its success across multiple arms of Time Warner. After its opening weekend, the company’s stock rose $2.50 per share to $43.12, a high it had not seen in over a year.42 The soundtrack, featuring songs by Seal and U2, had sold over a million copies by July. Attendance at Six Flags Parks, several of which had received new Batman rides and a few had Batmancentered entertainment shows that year, was up significantly. Warner’s retail stores, which had temporarily changed their name to Batman Headquarters, had doubled their sales from 1994.43 Videos by both Seal and U2 were popular on MTV, further promoting the film. The film itself also featured references to other Time Warner entities—particularly, two key magazines that were part of Time Inc. In Chase Meridian’s apartment, Bruce Wayne thumbs through her Batman-related research materials and finds a “Times” and a “Persons” magazine, each replicating the look of Time and People magazines, respectively.

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Batman Forever thus integrated multiple arms of Time Warner not only in terms of its promotional activities but also within the text itself. Batman Forever was also the first time a Batman film had a Web site. The Web site, however, did not just promote the film; it also promoted other arms of the company. The Web site took three months to complete and was part of a campaign integrating traditional and new media outlets for advertising. The film’s ABC television special, MTV documentary, and posters all featured the Web address, and posters placed in subways and bus stations simply featured the Batman logo with the address.44 The main page was set up to reflect the streets of Gotham, and this hub provided opportunities for users to go to the Gotham Cinema, where trailers of Batman Forever were available; the Gotham Library, which held sneak peaks at several forthcoming Batman comics by DC Comics; Gotham Radio Station, where sound clips from the tie-in songs could be heard; and the Gotham Art Gallery, where photographs from the film could be accessed.45 Although the use of the Internet as a promotional device was new to film studios, Warner Bros. used the Web site for Batman Forever as a new way to target its core audience and promote multiple products related to the Batman franchise. As a company, Time Warner continued to expand into other media for additional venues to push its key products, such as Batman. In August 1995, Time Warner announced that the company would purchase Turner Broadcasting System from mogul Ted Turner. Through this deal, Time Warner would gain cable networks CNN, TNT, TBS, the Cartoon Network, and Turner Classic Movies as well as studios New Line Cinema, Castle Rock Pictures, and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons Inc. A key focus of the merger was to strengthen brands already owned by Time Warner through the additional media outlets provided by Turner Broadcasting. In the 1996 Annual Report for Time Warner, the company states that “Global distribution in traditional and electronic media strengthens and popularizes powerful brands.”46 The next page features four of Time Warner’s and Turner’s driving brands— Batman, Sports Illustrated, CNN, and Looney Tunes—and provides examples of how these brands are carried through multiple components of the company. The brand of Batman, for example, is characterized by TV animation, comics, film, merchandise, theme parks, and soundtracks. In the Warner Bros. Entertainment section of this annual report, the relationship between these arms is spelled out clearly: “Retailing, licensing and theme parks reinforce the power of Warner Bros.’ brands, turning hits into entertainment franchises that become more valuable over time.”47 Given the success of Batman Forever in terms of box office grosses and merchandising dollars, another sequel was inevitable for the Batman franchise. Immediately after the third film hit theaters and broke box office records during the summer of 1995, the fourth film was put on the fast track for a 1997 release, which provided less than two years for the film to be planned, shot, and released. Indeed, theaters were booked for its release before a single

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frame was even shot. Wanting to avoid a public relations debacle like Batman Returns, the fourth film was set up using the highly successful Batman Forever as its blueprint. As with the previous film, Schumacher was charged with lightening up the franchise. According to Schumacher, “[ T ]here was a real desire at the studio to keep it more family-friendly, more kid-friendly. And, a word I had never heard before, more toyetic, which means that what you create makes toys that can sell.”48 Toy manufacturers had a considerable hand in designing the costumes, Batmobile, and Bat-gadgets used in Batman and Robin. Schumacher worked closely with representatives from Kenner, “[R]obbing each other’s ideas” to create stronger sets, props and costume elements for both the film and licensed products, from villain Mr. Freeze’s (Arnold Schwarzenegger) Freezemobile to Robin’s cycle. One result of the[ir] early collaboration is six times the number of action figures with the latest installment than with the previous one.49

Many of these toys were sold through the Warner Bros. Studio stores, which changed their design to reflect a “freeze” from the film’s main villain through icicle-laced décor, life-sized copies of the Mr. Freeze character, and prop ice floes.50 In relation to the release of Batman and Robin, Time Warner enlisted a slew of tie-in partners. Executives at Time Warner secured $125 million worth of promotional partners, from companies such as Frito Lay, Taco Bell, Kellogg’s, and Amoco.51 Frito Lay placed images from the film on several of the company’s leading chip brands as well as on in-store displays, while Taco Bell offered collectible cups and dressed the fast food chain’s restaurants with promotional images on its windows. Kellogg’s featured Batman characters on several cereals, Pop-Tarts, and Eggo’s waffles, which displayed the Bat signal. Michael Gough, the actor who played Alfred, pumped gas at an Amoco gas station in a television commercial, and the gas company featured Batman images on its pumps across the United States. Bob Schneider, Senior Vice President of Worldwide Promotions for Time Warner’s consumer products division, claimed the purpose of these tie-ins was to add additional promotional opportunities for the film; it is a process that “creates a billboard effect, whether you’re driving past a Taco Bell or down a supermarket aisle.”52 Indeed, given the vast number of promotional tie-ins for the film, Schumacher quipped: “I’ve become a total Batman slut.”53 BATMAN AND HIGH-TECH SYNERGY Batman and Robin did not only rely on traditional media sources as promotional devices; like the previous film, it also made extensive use of the Internet. The Web site had many of the same features as the site for Batman

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Forever —audio files from the film’s soundtrack, trailers, photographs of the cast, games, and downloadable posters. However, the online marketing campaign for Batman and Robin expanded beyond the film’s Web site. The compact disc of the soundtrack, which featured artists such as Smashing Pumpkins, R. Kelly, Jewel, and R.E.M., also provided software for Prodigy Internet access. Users who popped the disc into CD-ROM drives on their computers would be brought automatically to the film’s Web site.54 Two of the film’s stars—Arnold Schwarzenegger and George Clooney—chatted live with fans on Prodigy days before the film opened.55 The world premiere of the film was Web cast via E! Online’s site, and featured interviews with the stars as well as live audio and video feeds of the stars’ arrivals.56 While Batman and Robin relied heavily on Internet promotions, the expanding medium offered a few wrinkles to the film’s online strategy. Aint It Cool News, an upstart Web site in Austin, Texas, was fast-developing as one of the most powerful entertainment sites on the Internet. Aint It Cool News provided a forum for user commentaries on preview screenings of studio films. The site’s creator, Harry Knowles, ran a scathing review of Batman and Robin before the film even opened in theaters. According to Knowles, Schumacher derailed the Batman franchise: First, let me say that Joel Schumacher should be shot and killed. I will pay a handsome bounty to the man (or woman) who delivers me the head of this Anti Christ. He has single-handedly destroyed what started out to be a great series of films.57

Chris Pula, head of publicity for Warner Bros. at the time, criticized Knowles’ running of the review, claiming he had not seen the finished print, and his review could affect the film’s overall reception. Knowles responded by putting 52 separate reviews of the film on his site —all negative. Mass media outlets, including People, featured the story about the conflict between Pula and Knowles before the film even opened.58 The negative sentiment about Batman and Robin echoed on this Web site and others led to an underwhelming run at the box office. Although Batman and Robin was the top film for Warner Bros. in 1997, it grossed only $107 million at the domestic box office and was the ninth film for the year overall. The failure of Batman and Robin at the box office extended not just to its grosses but to the company’s overall bottom line. Time Warner’s market share plummeted to fourth, its worst finish among its rival studios since 1982. Ravaged by film critics and fans alike, the film’s weak performance put the Batman film franchise on hiatus for several years. While the film franchise was in hiatus, a number of television versions of Batman emerged. Batman Gotham Knights (1997–1999) premiered shortly after the failure of Batman and Robin as part of The New Batman/Superman

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Adventures block on Time Warner’s network, the WB. Batman Gotham Knights was a continuation of Batman: The Animated Series. Batman Beyond (1999 – 2001), also on the WB, was part of the network’s popular block of Saturday morning cartoons aimed at children and examines the birth of a new Batman after Bruce Wayne has retired. In 2002, a live-action spin-off from the Batman mythos, Birds of Prey (2002 – 2003), debuted on the WB in primetime and followed the exploits of the Huntress, the illegitimate daughter of Batman and Catwoman. Finally, The Batman premiered on the WB in 2004, and as of 2008, it remains on the air on the CW.59 The Batman follows a young Batman as he attempts to establish himself in Gotham City. At one point, executives at Time Warner planned on adapting one of these television versions of Batman —Batman Beyond— into a live-action film. Indeed, in between Batman and Robin in 1997 and Batman Begins in 2005, three high-profile film sequels were instigated but subsequently abandoned as Time Warner executives struggled to find the right approach to restart the film franchise. Ultimately, Christopher Nolan was selected to helm the next Batman film, and his approach to the franchise mimicked his award-winning independent film background, which included Memento (2000), a film told in reverse order. Nolan’s use of an unconventional narrative structure, a realistic aesthetic, and a twist in the third act differentiated Batman Begins from the other Batman films and linked directly with the style he had shown in his previous, independent film work. By refocusing on the start of Batman’s career as a crimefighter, Nolan’s film rebooted the franchise, throwing out a number of the aspects developed in the previous films. Although Warner Bros. entrusted the lucrative franchise to a formerly independent filmmaker, the company hedged its bets on the film’s performance by investing a lot of energy (and dollars) into promoting the film. Rumored to have had a $100 million marketing campaign, nearly as much as the film’s production budget, Batman Begins received a substantial amount of press coverage because of these promotional activities.60 For example, Time Warner sponsored a NASCAR race at the Michigan International Speedway called the “Batman Begins 400” on June 19, 2005, the first time a specific film had ever been the primary tie-in. According to Romanelli, the sponsorship of the event was about linking the speed and excitement of NASCAR to the film: We’re looking forward to pairing the on-screen excitement of Batman Begins to the on-track excitement of NASCAR. . . . A fast car, the BatmobileTM, and a host of high-tech gadgets have always been key to Batman’s success in fighting his way to victory over crime. As NASCAR’s finest drivers take to the track on June 19 for the Batman Begins 400 at Michigan International Speedway, they will utilize all of the high-tech gadgets at their disposal to take their team to victory lane.61

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One of the Batmobiles used for the film worked as the pace car for the event, and Batman Begins merchandise was available for purchase throughout the stadium. In another promotional venue, Batman Begins was adapted into a stunt show at several Six Flag parks. As it opened in early June 2005, the Batman Begins Stunt Show featured special effects, fighting sequences, and a car chase featuring the Batmobile. According to Del Holland, the Vice President and General Manager of the Six Flags Magic Mountain Park, it was the most elaborate stunt show the park had ever produced.62 In addition to these promotional events, Batman Begins also relied on promotional partners such as Dell. Dell products were prominently featured in the film, and the June 2005 catalog for Dell features stills from Batman Begins throughout its 50 pages. In the last few pages of the catalog, Dell products are specifically associated with the film. Under the headline “Awesome movie . . . awesome gear,” the copy foregrounds this relationship: “Look for DellTM products in the summer blockbuster Batman Begins. And now you can make this equipment your own for as little as $6 a month — proof positive that you don’t need to be an orphaned vigilante billionaire to get your hands on some awesome tech.”63 Gear such as the Dell Axim X50 are described in relation to Batman, “[ N ]o utility belt should be without one,” while the Dell Dimension XPS Gen 5 desktop computer “is always ready to take on the bad guys.”64 The catalog also featured the film’s logo and release date several times, further promoting the film. In addition to these promotional outlets, Batman Begins featured a comprehensive Web site. The film’s Web site, like the previous two films in the franchise, linked together several divisions of Time Warner through tie-in products. The comic books and graphic novels that influenced the story and look of Batman Begins were especially highlighted. In fact, three of these stories were later bundled together for the DVD release of the film and included in its packaging.65 Other aspects of the site emphasized the gadgetry used in the film, particularly the reimagined Batmobile, all of which became merchandise available at local stores. The film’s Web site also promoted a mobile game, allowing users the opportunity to download a program and play as Batman on their cell phones. Unlike Batman and Robin, which received a critical drubbing from hardcore fans prior to its release, Internet fan sites heavily promoted Batman Begins as a return to the property’s darker roots based on the materials available on the Web site, the trailers, and in promotional materials. This positive word-of-mouth was also echoed in the critical reviews of the film once it was released. Ultimately, Batman Begins became the ninth highest grossing film of 2005, with $205 million at the domestic box office and another $166 million from the international box office. As the second highest earning film in the franchise, the film’s direction not only signaled that a sequel would follow but also that the Internet would play an even bigger role in the next film’s promotion.

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With The Dark Knight still in production, and not set for release until the summer of 2008, Warner Bros. instigated a viral marketing campaign during the summer of 2007 to promote the film. A few days after the official Warner Bros. Web site for the film launched, Joker cards started appearing in specialty comic shops. The official Warner Bros. Web site featured a campaign poster for Harvey Dent, running for District Attorney, with the tagline “I Believe In Harvey Dent,” while the Joker cards featured the Web site address IBelieveInHarveyDentToo.com. The same poster appeared at the second site, but it was defaced. In investigating the page, users entered their email addresses when prompted and then received an email message that gave the location of one pixel that was to be removed from the Web site. As more users investigated the page, provided their email addresses, and clicked onto their pixels, a new image was revealed. Fans, using sites such as Aint It Cool News, spread the word about the site, which soon displayed a hidden picture of the Joker, the first public image of the character featured in the sequel. The move to this Internet-centered viral campaign for a major franchise is part of the company’s expanding digital strategy. In the late 1990s, Time Warner shifted to a more digital focus for the entire company, culminating in the merger with America On Line, Inc. (AOL). In January 2000, the two companies announced the merger to create AOL Time Warner, and the newly combined company represented the first high-profile junction of old and new media companies. Levin’s address to stockholders in the 1999 Annual Report (released in 2000) stressed that with their combination, AOL and Time Warner together would “achieve . . . what neither company could have achieved on its own: a media-savvy, Internet-intelligent, customer-focused company with multiple revenue streams from branded subscriptions, advertising and commerce, and content.”66 Aligning with the premiere portal and brand on the Internet was thought to give the company the outlet it needed to flourish in the new media environment. Indeed, Levin identified this as the key benefit of the merger: “ This strategic combination with AOL accelerates the digital transformation of Time Warner by giving our creative and content businesses the widest possible canvas.”67 Barry Meyer, the Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Warner Bros., echoed Levin’s statement in terms of how the Internet could aid film franchises such as Batman: “An expanded Internet platform offers us valuable opportunities for distribution, product promotion and brand extension now and in the future.”68 The merger with AOL has been fraught with setbacks, as both the division and the entire company suffered enormous losses due to accounting scandals, a decrease in spending for advertising on the Internet, and the substantial loss of subscribers to AOL. Indeed, these problems led to AOL being dropped from the company’s name in late 2003, although AOL still remains a division of Time Warner at present. However, AOL has provided an “expanded Internet platform” for the company’s many products. For franchises

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such as Batman, this digital focus has extended the films’ promotional activities specifically into the Internet and other emerging technologies, such as mobile communications. Indeed, as Time Warner continues to expand, so too do the outlets available for promoting key products such as the Batman franchise. With Batman arriving in theaters just a few months after the announcement of the merger of Time Inc. and Warner Communications Inc., the film franchise and the media conglomerate have been intimately linked from the very start. As Time Warner has expanded its multimedia capabilities since 1989, so too have the outlets available to promote the Batman film franchise and its associated products expanded as a result. In recent years, the franchise has adapted to engage in emerging technologies, including DVDs, the Internet, and mobile communications. And as The Dark Knight’s viral marketing campaign attests, Time Warner continues to expand its multimedia promotional activities in new directions. The results of this focus have yet to be seen for The Dark Knight, but if the grosses of Batman Begins are any indication, this focus on generating buzz a year before its release through the use of innovative campaigns on the Internet will most likely result in another profitable outing for the Batman franchise. The Batman franchise was the company’s key franchise during the 1990s, and only after it faltered in 1997 did Time Warner expand its film franchise focus to include other properties. In recent years, Time Warner’s successful franchises have included a new Superman franchise, The Lord of the Rings trilogy (through subsidiary New Line Cinema), the Harry Potter films, The Matrix franchise, and the Ocean’s 11 franchise. Together, these franchises re-established Time Warner as the most formidable film company, as both Warner Bros. and New Line Cinema dominated the film industry. Since the early 1990s, other studios also have geared up their franchise focus in order to compete with Time Warner. However, no company has had as many successful film franchises as Time Warner since 1999, nor the consistent profits these films garner at the box office or in terms of merchandising dollars. Since the merger with AOL in 2000, Time Warner has remained the top entertainment company on the Fortune 500 list, surpassing other conglomerates such as Walt Disney and Viacom in total revenues. Led by its Filmed Entertainment division, Time Warner’s multimedia capabilities enable its key properties to flourish in the competitive marketplace. CONCLUSION By examining Time Warner’s key film franchise, Batman, as both it and the company have developed, its history provides a number of telling details about the current state of the industry. First, it is increasingly clear that discussing the film industry separate from other multimedia industries neglects

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their integrated nature. Not only are these industries housed in the same conglomerate through multiple subsidiaries, but also their promotional aspects are becoming more and more enmeshed throughout the life cycle of the film property. Second, multiple film franchises have become an essential ingredient in the construction of a media company’s slate. Where one key tentpole picture a year may have sufficed during much of the 1990s to ensure a company’s profitability, the competitive nature of the film industry now requires the conglomerates to create several franchises simultaneously in order to be profitable. Time Warner, for example, had two franchise films in 2005 in the top 10 grossing films for the year: Batman Begins and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Mike Newell), which emerged as the industry’s second highest grossing film in domestic theaters with over $275 million. Finally, the influx of independent film talent into franchise films has become an important ingredient in their profitability. Besides Nolan and Batman Begins, talent from independent film has been a key part of every Time Warner franchise, as noted previously. As I discussed at the beginning of this chapter, Ben Bagdikian worried that the conglomerate’s growing use of synergy in 1989 would lead to “commercially safe, generic, all-purpose books, films and TV programs.” By 2005 and the arrival of Batman Begins, it was clear that synergy did work to create “commercially safe” films with a multitude of products available to help ensure profitability. What he could not have predicted in 1989 is the extent to which synergy was rooted into the film franchise’s preproduction, production, and marketing aspects. Nor could he have predicted this turn to independent film talent in heading these franchises. The unconventional nature of Batman Begins demonstrates, however, that these films do not have to be generic. Indeed, as the film market becomes more competitive, particularly with the increase in franchise films produced in the industry, product differentiation has become an essential aspect of the franchise film experience. As Time Warner and the Batman franchise exemplify, the conglomerates and their key products “react synergistically” to the challenges inherent in the developing industry. NOTES 1. Other examples of the crossover between Batman and Superman can be seen in graphic novels such as Batman: Hush by Jeph Loeb, Jim Lee, and Scott Williams; Saturday morning cartoons such as Justice League aired on the Cartoon Network since 2001; and issues of 1940s comic books such as All Star Comics. 2. Stephen Prince, ed., American Cinema of the 1980s: Themes and Variations ( New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2007), 51. 3. Thomas Schatz, “The Return of the Hollywood Studio System,” in Conglomerates and the Media, ed. Patricia Aufderheide (New York: The New Press, 1997), 74. 4. Time Warner, 1993 Annual Report (New York: Time Warner, 1994), 10.

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5. Ibid. 6. News Corporation, incorporated in Australia under Rupert Murdoch, purchased Hollywood film studio Twentieth Century Fox in 1985 and launched the fourth television network, Fox, in 1986. Japanese company Sony Corporation purchased CBS Records in 1987 and Columbia Pictures Entertainment Inc. later in 1989 for a strong base in the production of the cultural software associated with their audio and video hardware technologies. These mergers and acquisitions were large-scale attempts to diversify the entertainment holdings of the parent company. 7. Ben H. Bagdikian, “The Lords of the Global Village,” The Nation, June 12, 1989, 805. 8. Ibid., 815. 9. Joseph McBride, “ ‘Batman’ Swoops to Conquer,” Variety, June 26, 1989, 2. 10. A. D. Murphy, “ ‘Bat’ Has the Speed, ‘E.T.’ the Endurance; Top Pic to Remain So,” Variety, August 9, 1989, 2. 11. Joanne Lipman, “Movie Merchandising Takes Off, Bat-Style,” Wall Street Journal, January 5, 1990, 4. 12. David Ansen, “Boffo Box Office Big Boost to Biz.” Newsweek, July 31, 1989, 61. 13. All quotations in this paragraph from Warner Bros. and The Guber-Peters Company, Inter-Office Memo to Tim Burton, August 30, 1988, Warren Skaarren Collection, Series I, Box 2, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, The University of Texas at Austin. 14. Edna Gundersen, “Prince’s Batting Record: A Big Hit Soundtrack,” USA Today, July 17 1989, D1 in Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed February 21, 2006). 15. Tim Burton, audio commentary, Batman, Batman: The Motion Picture Anthology, DVD. Directed by Burton, 1989. Warner Home Video, 2005. 16. In the October 10, 1988, draft of the screenplay, two of the sequences that ultimately used Prince’s songs (the Flugelheim Museum and parade sequences) simply state “music,” with no indication of what music would be played. The screenwriters themselves were not aware of the collaboration with Prince by this date, which was the first day of principal photography. Sam Hamm and Warren Skaaren, screenplay of Batman, fifth draft, October 10, 1988, Warren Skaarren Collection, Series I, Box 6, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center at The University of Texas at Austin. 17. Gundersen, “Prince’s New Single: Holy Funk, Batman,” USA Today, June 2, 1989, D1, in Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed February 21, 2006). 18. Business Week, “Holy Bootlegger! What a Lot of Phony Batstuff !” July 17, 1989, 70. 19. John Horn, “Batman Merchandise Flys into Town,” Associated Press, June 13 1989. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 21, 2005). 20. Bill Barol, “Batmania,” Newsweek, June 26, 1989, 73 –74. 21. Warren Skaaren, Studio Notes, September 7, 1988, Warren Skaaren Collection, Series I, Box 2, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, The University of Texas at Austin. 22. Fortune, “ The Service 500,” June 3, 1991, 260 –61. 23. Fortune, “ The Service 500,” June 1, 1992, 174 –75. 24. Fortune, “ The Service 500,” 1991, 260; “ The Service 500,” 1992, 206.

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25. Dave McNary, “ Warner Bros. Opens Studio Stores,” United Press International September 20 1991. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed September 20, 2006). 26. Barbara Hogan, “ Now Playing at Retail,” Billboard, June 13, 1992, 47. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed September 19, 2006). 27. Sonia Murray, “Six Flags to Take Cue from Mickey, Launch Ad Blitz with Batman, Bugs,” Atlanta Journal and Constitution, March 5, 1992, B1. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed September 20, 2006). 28. Quoted in Murray, “Six Flags,” B1. 29. Time Warner, 1992 Annual Report (New York: Time Warner, 1993), 5–6. 30. Ibid., 3. 31. Louis B. Parks, “Batman the Escape,” Houston Chronicle, December 19, 1992, 1. LexisNexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed September 19, 2006). 32. Ibid., 1. 33. The show ran for three years and spawned an animated feature film released in theaters in 1993, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, as well as a direct-to-video title, Batman and Mr. Freeze: SubZero, in 1998. 34. Time Warner, 1992 Annual Report, 36 –37. 35. Quoted in Michael Singer, Batman Returns: The Official Movie Book ( New York: Bantam Books, 1992), 6. 36. For example, Eleanor Ringel’s review for the Atlanta Journal and Constitution calls the film “a personal work,” and Todd McCarthy of Variety argues that “Burton has once again managed to pursue his quirky personal concerns in the context of broadly commercial entertainment.” Eleanor Ringel, “Caped Crusader Returns: Will Fans Go Batty Again?” Rev. of Batman Returns. Atlanta Journal and Constitution, June 14, 1992, N1. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 26, 2005); Todd McCarthy, rev. of Batman Returns, Variety, June 15, 1992. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 26, 2005). 37. Tim Burton, audio commentary, Batman Returns, Batman: The Motion Picture Anthology, DVD. Directed by Burton, 1992. Warner Home Video, 2005. 38. Quoted in Anita M. Busch, “ ‘Batman’ Makeover Lures Back Promo Partners,” Variety, May 1, 1995, 1+. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed May 30, 2005). 39. Schumacher’s previous two films had been for Warner Bros.: Falling Down (1993), starring Michael Douglas; and The Client (1994), an adaptation of the popular John Grisham novel. 40. Quoted in Busch, “ ‘Batman’ Makeover,” 1. 41. Ibid. 42. Paul Farhi, “ Holy 52-Week High, Batman!” Washington Post, June 20, 1995, D2. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 1, 2006). 43. Music and Copyright, “Batman Forever Film Hugely Popular,” July 5, 1995. LexisNexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 1, 2006).

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44. Robert Silverman, “ ‘Batman Forever’ World Wide Web Site to Be Center of National Advertising Campaign,” Interactive Age, May 8, 1995, 1+. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006). 45. Dave Jewett, “Batman Forever: Hitch a Ride On Your Computer to Gotham City, Courtesy of the World Wide Web and Warner Bros.,” The Columbian, June 16, 1995, D13. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006); Silverman, “ ‘Batman Forever.’ ” 46. Time Warner, 1996 Annual Report ( New York: Time Warner, 1997), 4. 47. Ibid., 8. 48. Joel Schumacher, interview, Shadows of the Bat: The Cinematic Saga of the Dark Knight Part 6: Batman Unbound, Batman: The Motion Picture Anthology, DVD. (Warner Home Video, 2005). 49. Karen Benezra, “Hollywood Wants More Integration,” Brandweek, May 26, 1997, 8. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 22, 2005). 50. Business Week, “ Warner Bros. Studio Stores ‘Chill Out’ in Support of Batman & Robin,” May 16, 1997. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006). 51. Jeff Jensen, “ Batman Returns, Armed with $125 Mil Promotion Arsenal,” Advertising Age, May 26, 1997, 3. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006). 52. Quoted in Jensen, “Batman Returns,” 3. 53. Quoted in Benezra, “Hollywood Wants More Integration,” 8. 54. Business Wire, “ Holy Internet Access, Batman!” June 5, 1997. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006). 55. Business Wire, “ Batman Chats on Prodigy,” June 5, 1997. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006). 56. Business Wire, “ E! Online to Produce Exclusive Webcast from the World Movie Premiere of Batman & Robin,” June 6, 1997. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 2, 2006). 57. Harry Knowles, rev. of Batman and Robin, Ain’t It Cool News, June 18, 1997, http://www.aintitcool.com (accessed March 6, 2006). 58. Martyn Palmer, “The Revenge of the Nerd,” The Times, March 16, 2002. LexisNexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed November 22, 2003). 59. Due to the poor performance of the WB and UPN, the two networks were merged together by Time Warner and CBS Corporation in 2006 to form the CW. The CW features a mixture of shows and original content developed for and aired on both corporations’ previous networks. 60. Film Review, “ Essential Summer Preview,” Summer 2005, 64. 61. Quoted in Business Wire, “Warner Bros. Consumer Products and NASCAR Announce ‘Batman Begins 400’ at Michigan International Speedway,” April 27, 2005. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed May 16, 2005; qtd. in “ Warner Bros. Consumer Products). 62. PR Newswire, “Feel the Thrill This Summer,” April 18, 2005. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed May 16, 2005). 63. Dell, advertisement, June 2005, 54. 64. Ibid.

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65. Included in the DVD release of Batman Begins were excerpts from the following comics: Denny O’Neil (writer) and Dick Giordano (artist), “ The Man Who Falls,” 1989; Bill Finger (writer) and Bob Kane (artist), “ The Bat-Man,” 1939; and Jeph Loeb (writer) and Tim Sale (artist), “ The Long Halloween,” 1996. Batman Begins, Deluxe Edition DVD, directed by Christopher Nolan, 2005; Warner Home Video, 2005. 66. Time Warner, 1999 Annual Report ( New York: Time Warner, 2000), 5. 67. Quoted in Business Wire, “America Online and Time Warner Will Merge to Create World’s First Internet-Age Media and Communications Company,” January 10, 2000. Lexis-Nexis Academic Universe [database online], University of Texas, Austin (accessed March 13, 2006). 68. Quoted in Time Warner, 1999 Annual Report, 25.

chapter 5

“You believe in pirates, of course . . .”: Disney’s Commodification and “Closure” of Pirates of the Caribbean Anne H. Petersen

In a 1967 promotional film for the newest additions to Disneyland—Pirates of the Caribbean and New Orleans Square —Walt Disney carefully explains the design of the ride to a young “imagineering” employee. Disney describes the manner in which “all these characters will be life-size, and life-like in their movement” as the pirates discover the town’s rum supplies, dunk the mayor in the well, and observe as women of the pillaged village are auctioned off to the highest bidder.1 As Disney emphasizes, “anything’s possible at Disneyland”— referring not only to the animation of the various models into life-like characters but also to the fact that pirates, mythical and magical in themselves, may be embodied and asserted, in the most Disney-of-ways, as history. Pirates of the Caribbean, for all its imagineering, is “based” on what Disney and others hope the public to take as historical fact. Situated beside New Orleans Square, itself an “historically accurate” model of nineteenthcentury New Orleans, the unstated yet implicit message of Pirates of the Caribbean is clear: The ride is “magical,” but, like many others in the park, it is also based on history. As Disney states in the promotional film, the ride will “take [visitors] back into the days of the past, the pirates, you know, Adapted from Petersen, Anne Helen. “ ‘You believe in pirates, of course . . .’: Disney’s Commodification and ‘Closure’ of Pirates of the Caribbean.” Studies in Popular Culture 29, no. 2 (2007), 63–81. Used with permission.

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when the whole Caribbean area was full of pirates, and they were always sacking things.” Significantly, as Disney speaks, the camera focuses on a closeup of the imagineering representative. Her face is young and innocent, and she eagerly smiles and nods with each word. Here the audience may be interchanged with the young woman—when Disney playfully asserts, “You believe in Pirates, of course,” we nod and reply, “oh yes,” right along with her. This interchange exemplifies what Baudrillard has termed “the Disneyland simulacrum”— specifically, the fact that Disney’s historic re-creation is not only faulty but recreates a history that never truly existed. To examine both the park and the ride as such, we must first acknowledge that the faux history of each Disney ride serves as an open avenue for capitalism. In Disneyland, history and fantasy intertwine to create commodities rooted in society’s psyche. Just as Snow White was initially successful due to the ubiquity of the tale among the common folk, so too is Pirates of the Caribbean immediately palatable for its link to, as Walt so suggestively describes, “the days of the past, the pirates, you know.” Although piracy, mutiny, and rogue sailors may have certainly existed, the manner in which they are displayed in the ride —as swashbuckling caricatures, bungling and gluttonous —is more a function of exposure to other media, not to factual pirate accounts. Whether Robert Louis Stevenson novels or Errol Flynn films, the ride clearly adheres to Baudrillard’s description of the progression of the modern image: “it is the reflection of basic reality, it masks and perverts a basic reality, it masks the absence of a basic reality,” and thus, as in its present form, “it bears no relation to a reality whatever.”2 The Pirates ride, like the rest of Disney, is a fake history. So what? The real question is how modern-day Disney, the uber-corporation, transformed an amusement park ride into the second highest grossing film of 2003, extending that success to the 2006 and 2007 sequels, and successfully commodifying one of the last unsynergized aspects of Disneyland. In folklorian terms, the answer is straightforward: Disney simply “closed” the text. In an interesting twist on McLuhan’s ballyhooed catchphrase, the medium has indeed proved the message: A switch of the medium (from amusement park ride to a fully fleshed-out film) effectively cemented the “message” of Pirates of the Caribbean, closing a text once “open” to myriad interpretations into a singular “closed” rendition. With a static message and a concrete text, Disney could effectively commodify and capitalize upon its narrative, its characters, and its sequels. DISNEY: LAND OF THE CLOSED TEXT Disney’s method of commodification is characterized by its synergistic relish: Each storyline, movie, or character is vertically integrated through the tower of Disney mediums. The Lion King, for example, has a Broadway

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stage adaptation, numerous straight-to-video sequels, an immensely successful soundtrack featuring Elton John, and a healthy DVD sales rate, to say nothing of the products, toys, costumes, and games that boast the Lion King and Disney name. The Disney parks, beginning with Disneyland but now expanded to include Disney World, Tokyo Disneyland Park, Euro Disney, and Hong Kong Disneyland, serve as the capstone of Disney synergy. Hunt and Frankenberg observe, “You have seen the films, are familiar with the cartoon characters, and know that their trials and tribulations are humorous, and will eventually resolve into happy endings. You expect (and know that an omnipresent but unobtrusive management intends) a similar ending from the thrills and spills of your own visit.”3 This certainly holds for the majority of Disneyland attractions: Rides reenact The Song of the South (“Splash Mountain”), Aladdin (“Aladdin’s Oasis”), Pinocchio (“Pinocchio’s Daring Journey”), Alice in Wonderland (“Mad Tea Party”), The Wind in the Willows (“Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride”), and Snow White (“Snow White’s Scary Adventures”), plus many, many more. As Jason Sperb notes, each is a “commodified, homogenized version, if any version, of its now distant . . . relative.”4 Accordingly, these rides simultaneously benefit from and rely on audience foreknowledge of the “plot” of each ride. If each of these films are themselves “Disneyfied” (i.e., Americanized, stream-lined, and lacking in nuance) versions of the original myths, folktales, and fairytales from which they sprung, then the rides represent a third removal from the original source. In this way, altering the medium of representation—from oral tradition to recorded fairytale to Disney cartoon to Disneyland ride —likewise alters the message, not only through technological advances but by “closing” the text. Folklorists consider a closed text as “one that carefully develops details and connections, leaving readers or viewers little chance for active participation and interpretation.”5 Whereas an open text, such as an oral narrative, is characterized by a dynamicism that allows cultural variation and nuance appropriate to time and location, the closed text remains constant. Western oral histories and fairy tales were first recorded in the seventeenth century, when Giovanni Strapola and Charles Perrault first collected their tales, famously followed by Hans Christian Anderson and the Brothers Grimm, amongst others. In recording the narratives, these “editors” affected the first level of textual closure —their versions of Snow White, of Hansel and Gretel, and of Cinderella became the accepted, static norm. Disney further closed the text through its classic screen adaptations. In addition to neutralizing potentially offensive elements and refiguring the plot line to mesh with Disney specifications (the struggle between good and evil; narrative closure with heteronormative coupling), the fact that the cartoons are fleshed out—given a voice, demeanor, and body—further limits potential interpretations of the text. Moral nuance, ambiguity, and personal interpretation are eliminated in favor of a clear, solid, universally palatable product.

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In a closed text, particularly in the Disney universe, there is no need for imagination—the Imagineering team does it for you! The face of the heroine, the look of the forest, the scowl of the evildoer—all created and proliferated to the point of unquestioned cultural acceptance. Put bluntly, Snow White’s face is the same in every country across the world. The Disney amusement ride, however, represents the closure of the original open text. Storylines, character arcs, and emotional development are reduced to an eight-minute tour of loosely interpreted vignettes, animatronic creatures spouting clichéd catchphrases—not from the original text, but from the Disney-appropriated film. A dynamic image eludes commodification— it’s difficult to make a t-shirt of a creature that is interpreted differently by each audience member— but a static one may be readily packaged and purchasable. Dolls, t-shirts, hats, and games, with the same images and taglines, may be sold at the park gift shop or thousands of other outlets around the world. This not only ups Disney’s profits but increases the proliferation of the Disney-generated image, reinforcing its status for generations to come. The ride is three times removed from the original open text, at best a skeletal allusion to a tale that once spoke to genuine societal anxieties. Rides differ very little from park to park—whether at the Magic Kingdom in Florida or Tokyo Disneyland, the faces, gags, and sound effects remain, for the most part, consistent. As the Disney catchphrase persists, “it’s a small world after all,” and the small world of Disney’s cinematic and theme park creation is one where rights and wrongs are universally applicable, where beauty that is “snow white” endures, and love and marriage present themselves as the ultimate (and necessary) solution. Pirates of the Caribbean, however, demands a reexamination of Hunt and Frankenberg’s Disney park thesis. Purportedly sprouted from Walt’s own imagination, Pirates differs from the traditional funnel model of folklorefairytale-film closure. Granted, as previously discussed, Disney subliminally associates the ride with historical events in the colonization-era Caribbean. Instead of European fairy tales, the texts that the ride works to close are general Pirate narratives —taken from or inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson, Davy Jones and his locker, and Errol Flynn movies (from the 1930s and 1940s) that were still very much in the public consciousness at the time of the ride’s opening in 1967. The link, however, was tenuous: Without a clear Disney film or product to serve as referent, Disney was severely limited in its marketing of the ride and the idea that supported it. In 2002, The Disney Corporation attempted to solve a similar problem with another ride —Country Bear Jamboree —by creating a live-action feature to flesh out the attraction. The film, The Country Bears (Hastings, 2002), was a financial failure. Moira McDonald of the Seattle Times elaborates on its downfall: “You might reasonably expect, from the mighty Disney, that the

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big-screen bears might be kind of cutting-edge, with stunningly realistic digital effects. Um, no. It’s guys in bear suits, lumbering around with their big heads and synthetic looking hair, with dubbed voices chiming in from a sound booth.”6 Despite the vocal talents of Haley Joel Osment, Christopher Walken, and a number of stars from the music industry (Bonnie Raitt, Don Henley, and Willie Nelson among others), the animatronic bears of the film are embarrassingly awkward and passé. The film failed to fulfill Disney’s synergistic goals, hampering the effort to further commodify the ride and its characters. Nevertheless, creating a film with an explicit connection to the ride remained the clearest solution to the dearth of Pirates commercial synergy. The idea for a full-length, live-action film was originally pitched in 1992 and languished for over a decade in stages of predevelopment—until Jerry Bruckheimer entered the picture. Producer Jerry Bruckheimer is the closest that Hollywood gets to a magicmaker. He first gained attention as the “Mr. Outside” to producing partner Don Simpson’s “Mr. Inside”—working with directors Tony Scott and Michael Bay, they created a succession of tremendously successful, blow-’emup films, paragons of contemporary masculinity: Top Gun, Beverly Hills Cop, Days of Heaven, and Bad Boys. Starting in 1994, Bruckheimer and Simpson began producing films for Touchstone and Hollywood Pictures, both owned and run by Disney. Over the course of the next two years, they shepherded projects as various as The Ref (Demme, 1994, Touchstone Pictures), Crimson Tide (Bay, 1995, Hollywood Pictures), Dangerous Minds (John N. Smith, 1995, Hollywood Pictures), and The Rock (Bay, 1996, Hollywood Pictures). While these films generally garnered negative reviews, they made a tremendous amount of money: As just one example, The Rock, with a production budget of $85 million, grossed $335 million internationally, with $134 million of that domestic. When Simpson unexpectedly passed away in 1996, Bruckheimer continued to produce blockbusters for Touchstone: Con Air (West, 1997), Armageddon (Bay, 1998), Enemy of the State (Scott, 1998), Gone in 60 Seconds (Sena, 2000), Coyote Ugly (McNally, 2000), Remember the Titans (Yakin, 2001), and many others. Bruckheimer’s production success may be attributed to his firm, particular control of his pictures with extreme attention to detail. Instead of interfering on the set, he does most of his work in postproduction, tinkering with score, narrative, and length. He refers to himself as “the audience”—the typical Joe Schmoe “guy with his hand in the popcorn.” The decisions he makes, and thus the films he produces, are meant to cater to those very tastes— movies that are the perfect mix of fun, adventure, humor, entertainment, and emotion, without anything that’s too complex, alienating, or sophisticated. There is very little that is subtle about a Bruckheimer picture: The emotions, narrative turns, and explosions are exaggerated, designed to inflate the films’ profits. The international success of his films (Armageddon, for example,

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grossed $553 million worldwide on a production budget of $140 million) speaks to the international resonance of the Bruckheimer picture: Because the love stories, action, plot lines, and conclusion are all writ large, they are easily translatable. Like a cartoon, a silent film, or a Disney theme ride, they are equally palatable to a middle-aged middle-American and a Japanese teenager. Ultimately, Bruckheimer is the quintessential Disney producer: The vision, style, and success of his productions mesh seamlessly with the Disney business and entertainment philosophy. He “closes” the text; Disney synergizes it; audiences buy it. Pearl Harbor (Bay, 2001) was Bruckheimer’s first hint of a misstep. While the film ended up grossing $449 million internationally, its $140 million production budget was disquieting to Disney. Its original $145 million budget was, at the time, the largest approved prefilming; Bruckheimer and Bay gave up their $4 million salaries (in return for a cut of the profits) to keep the budget down; and Bay quit the project four times over various disputes. Then came Bad Company (Schumacher, 2002), a buddy flick starring Anthony Hopkins and Chris Rock, recouping only $65 million of its $70 million budget. When it came to Pirates of the Caribbean, Disney was, with good reason, wary. With the recent failure of The Country Bears and Bruckheimer’s big budget stumbles, Pirates was a risk— especially because it would require filming on location, in period costume, with massive amounts of computer-generated image (CGI) work in postproduction. But Bruckheimer was locked in a fivefilm production deal with Disney, and regardless of his missteps, he was still the best producer for a big-budget, bombastic job—in the words of Richard Cook, chairman of Walt Disney Studios, Bruckheimer is “our bread and butter,” Disney’s “home run hitter.”7 Bruckheimer handpicked director Gore Verbinski and recruited heartthrobs Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom (fresh off his role as Legolas in The Lord of the Rings) for the picture. According to the producer-commentary included with the Curse of the Black Pearl DVD, Bruckheimer desired a director who could handle what he viewed as the two main themes of the ride: fear and humor. At first glance, the Pirates ride is rather horrific, as grotesquelooking pirates plunder, capture, and eventually burn an entire village. One might assume an underlying fear of rape, torture, and general debauchery. But for the ride —indeed, for Disney in general—any such potential anxieties are completely negated through humor and caricature. The Pirates are dumpy, disfigured, and while ostensibly “dangerous,” they are clearly not a serious threat. As evidenced in past Disney productions, from 101 Dalmations (Geronimi et al., 1966) to The Lion King (Allers and Minkoff, 1992), such villains are prime sources of humor. Verbinski, best known for the Budweiser frog commercials, fear-fest The Ring (2002), and self-declared “family classic” Mousehunt (1997), possessed the genuine, innovative sense of both humor and fear that Bruckheimer viewed as essential to a successful adaptation.

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PIRATING THE PIRATE FILM Ostensibly, Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl indeed offers a “closed” and classical Disney product: Good (the British, Will Turner) triumphs over Evil (the cursed pirates); the heroine (Keira Knightly) is, in current Disney style, both beautiful and adventurous but ends up in the arms of her true love. The film overtly references and pays homage to the ride in a number of places, allowing audience members to easily draw associations between the two—the exact sort of synergy Disney desires. This may be largely attributed to Bruckheimer, whose producing style ensured that the film’s end vision would mesh with the ride and Disney’s underlying intentions for the production. With that said, Bruckheimer may have inadvertently paved the path for the film’s innovation and subversion. Enabling Depp, Verbinksi, and screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio to essentially “pirate” the pirate movie, Bruckheimer set the stage for the filmic coup that is Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. Here one is reminded of the dual definition of the word pirate: a sea-faring historical figure who steals and plunders, of course, but also, in its contemporary usage, one who makes or uses another’s work without authorization. Following Depp’s lead, the director and screenwriters fashioned a film that indeed provides a synergistic compliment to the Disney ride but adds character ambiguity, a troubled story arc, antiheroes, and off-color humor to the traditionally chaste Disney text. The text may be closed, but it is riddled with bullet-holes, with Depp as the lead gunman. THE ROGUE: JOHNNY DEPP AS CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW As every major production requires a bankable star to ensure financial backing, Bruckheimer, still with no more than a general idea of a product, sought and surprisingly recruited Johnny Depp for the role of Captain Jack Sparrow. Best known for his quirky roles and esoteric performances in collaboration with indies and auteurs (Tim Burton, Jim Jarmusch, etc.), Depp might seem the least likely choice for a Disney film. Having settled down with French pop singer Vanessa Paradis, Depp acknowledged his willingness, after years of antagonism, to accept the Hollywood machine and make something “for the kiddies.” Nevertheless, Depp’s image remains irreconcilable with that of Disney. He has played a transvestite, a scissor-handed man, a cocaine-baron, the Earl of Rochester, and Hunter S. Thompson; no doubt: not Disney. But Bruckheimer, with his sense of blockbuster, saw the necessity of a bit of pirate “spice” in the essentially straight story of classic Disney proportions. Additional spice was added by screenwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio, best known for their work on Aladdin (Clements and Musker, 1992) and Shrek (Adamson and Jenson, 2001). Both films radiate a sense of tongue-in-cheek

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meta-consciousness, acknowledging and reveling in their own self-awareness as cartoons, films, and fairytales. Both works are highly referential: think The Genie’s (Robin William’s) pop-culture references or Shrek’s homage to historical and contemporary fairy tales and films. Elliott and Rossio’s work with Pirates fits this mold, this time slyly poking fun at the very essentialized pirate narratives and Disneyficiation they were enlisted to produce. The casting of Depp constitutes a small coup in and of itself. Granted, 21 Jump Street made him a teen heartthrob in the late 1980s, a status that continues to attract young and middle-aged female fans.8 Yet, his varied history and assorted escapades connote scandal, indecency, and even un-Americanness. A veritable ex-patriot, he has yet to marry his long-term French girlfriend and mother of his two children. His trashing of several hotel rooms was widely covered in the early 1990s press; anyone decently acquainted with pop culture will recall that River Phoenix overdosed at Hollywood’s the Viper Club, owned by Depp. Compounded by his list of esoteric film roles, Depp’s “star” is anything but Disney- and family-friendly. Indeed, Depp’s character, Captain Jack Sparrow, is intended to be an antihero. Lacking in moral conscious, he may no longer be a “bad” pirate (grouped with Barbossa [Geoffrey Rush] and the rest of the cursed bunch), but he is most certainly not a “good” one. The moral, it seems, is a variation on the clichéd theme: You can take the man off of the pirate ship, but you can’t take the pirate out of the man. A Disney hero must clearly come of age, yet, as Depp and Verbinski explain in the DVD commentary, Sparrow (Depp) lacks any sort of character arc: He merely wants a ship, preferably his own, at the beginning, middle, and end of the film. He is unswayed by appeals to emotion, logic, or authority— his goals and character development remain wholly static throughout the film. As such, Sparrow is situated as antihero, thus exempted from the normal guidelines for a Disney hero. The role instead falls to Will Turner (Orlando Bloom), who plays the film’s “straight man.” These roles are reinforced in a scene early in the film, when Captain Jack first encounters Will Turner. Having used Elizabeth as his shield to escape the British army, Jack, still manacled from his previous capture, makes his way to a blacksmith. The role of the virtuous and the unvirtuous are already clearly delineated—Will works hard for a living, suffering in silence while his drunken master takes credit for his work, paying close attention to detail. His dress and demeanor are pristine; a crisp white shirt is coupled with well-groomed hair and beard. Jack Sparrow, on the other hand, is devious: He does not hesitate to put a hot poker to a donkey’s rear in order to rid himself of his chains; his hat, like the rest of his clothing, is soiled and haphazard. This early impression of Will Turner exemplifies traditional Disney characterization—the hero, his background, our willingness to root for him, and his love interest are all neatly set out in the first 15 minutes of the film. Nevertheless, Jack Sparrow severely disrupts the narrative, complicating

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traditional characterization and leading the audience to root for a far more ambiguous sort of hero. When the two first cross the swords, Turner keeps his sword straight and steady, his gaze focused ahead. Sparrow slides his sword up and down Turner’s, playfully declaring that he threatened Miss Swann “only a little.” Turner’s moral vision is black and white —either Sparrow threatened Miss Swann or he didn’t—while Sparrow’s is multivalenced. Sparrow’s take on the morality of his actions, like his level of engagement with Turner’s sword, is liberal. Despite Sparrow’s oily and blackened visage, characteristics that would traditionally establish him as evil, the verbal wordplay that accompanies the action establishes Jack as a far more nuanced character. When Jack asks who makes the dozens of swords that surround the two, Turner earnestly replies, “I do—and I practice with them three times a day!” to which Sparrow replies, “You need to get yourself a girl, mate.” Turner’s traditional act of masculinity—his devotion to his craft and to swordplay—are undercut by Sparrow’s retort. Sparrow’s jab bruises the entire notion of the earnest, devoted, dutiful hero, using it for a laugh and rendering it absurd. Sparrow then postulates that Turner is “incapable of wooing said strumpet,” questioning, “you’re not a eunuch, are you?” The line invariably gets a laugh, and it serves as a turning point in the film: Sparrow has endeared himself to the audience while explicitly questioning the masculinity of his rival. As the duel proceeds, Sparrow and Turner are alternately launched into the air. With one on top, then the other, the nifty stunt serves as a neat metaphor for their positions in the mind of the audience —who’s to be our hero? While Turner gradually begins to accept the piracy of his father and eventually assists in Jack’s ultimate escape from the British, he remains the “straight” hero and moral center of the film. Turner grows less severe in his judgment, more accepting of others, and slowly wins the affection of the girl he loves. With the burden of maturation on Turner, Sparrow is free to subvert conventions, both of Disney and of its appropriated tale of piracy. Disney purportedly exerted a certain amount of creative control over the film, a rumor best exemplified in the oft-quoted story of Eisner requiring Depp to reduce his mouthful of gold teeth to a more sightly two or three after the first day of shooting.9 Yet, several bits manage to elude the proverbial Disney machine. As shaped by Depp, Captain Jack Sparrow keenly resembles a queerly effete pirate with a serious drug history. His eyes are lined with thick, smudged kohl; his face is scarred, pocked, and, if one looks closely, what appears to be the sign of a venereal disease marks his right jaw. His beard is long enough to form two rattail-resembling braids, complemented by a mouth filled with teeth alternating between gold and dead. Beads, gold, chains, bandannas, and a soiled three-cornered hat serve as accessories. Sparrow alternately exudes heterosexual and homosexual appeal: His effeminacy, both in dress and demeanor, reads queerly, yet he continually brags

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of far-flung sexual conquests, with a gaggle of women lining up in Tortuga to berate him for his philandering ways. Several reviewers refer to him as pansexual—he bends notions of gender and sexuality, comfortably spanning the distance between societal definitions. Accordingly, Depp repeatedly credits two influences on his creation of Sparrow: guitarist Keith Richards and cartoon character Pepe Le Pew.10 In other words, he is a composition of a drug-addled, hot pants–wearing, rather debauched rock star and an unsuccessful yet oblivious ladies man, compounded by a tendency toward thievery and duplicitous behavior—once again: not Disney. Amusingly, Depp originally desired to play Sparrow without a nose —a pirate with a mortal fear of pollen, as it were. He pushed for noselessness and an entire mouth of gold teeth; Disney said no; Bruckheimer negotiated a compromise: Depp could play an authentically eccentric, partially gold-mouthed pirate . . . nose intact. Ironically, Depp was free to create such a wildly original character in part because of Disney—as the Disney ride provided no clear precedent for Sparrow, Depp was given what amounted to a blank slate of a character. What’s more, both screenwriters were on set for the bulk of production, rewriting and forming the script as it filmed. As a result, their narrative was undoubtedly influenced by Depp’s ongoing performance of Sparrow, a conclusion reinforced by Will Turner’s imitation of Sparrow’s peculiar disposition halfway through the film. Recalling how the crew of the Black Pearl had mutinied against Sparrow, Mr. Gibbs explains that they “marooned him on an island and left him to die —but not before he’d gone mad with the heat.” Turner responds “Ahhh, so that’s the reason for all the . . .” at which point he begins to pantomime Jack’s leering, off-kilter demeanor. This bit of self-referential humor would be impossible without foreknowledge of Depp’s performance. Regarded in this light, Depp’s “pirating” of the film seems a bit of subversive brilliance, effectively shaping the script and narrative around his character and vision of the film in general. Examining the prerelease trailer for Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, one senses that Disney was feeling no small amount of anxiety concerning Depp’s untraditional performance. Rather than showcasing its star power or Depp’s humor, the trailer focuses on the dark, cursed world of the pirates, filled with special effects, swordfights, and a pounding, chilling score. Even the film’s poster—a sinister-looking skeleton at the helm of a ship—conveys Disney’s marketing angle for the film. In short, play up the scary pirates, play down the crazy actor. However, Pirates was an immense and immediate success, grossing $70 million in its first week of release in July 2003. Perhaps more importantly, Depp’s performance was the talk of the summer, fueled in part by widespread circulation of the anecdote concerning the “inspiration” of Keith Richards. Disney quickly realized that the image on which to capitalize was not that of the cursed Barbossa or the earnest Jack Turner but the leering pansexual pirate. Depp was nominated for an

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Academy Award for his performance, and simultaneous production began on the second and third installments of Pirates of the Caribbean. The film—very much due to Depp’s performance —went beyond Disney’s wildest dreams in its complementation of the Pirates ride. CONCLUSIONS: A CLOSED TRILOGY? By changing the medium of the Pirates narrative, Disney intended to effectively close the available messages to consumers worldwide. What they did not anticipate, however, was how Johnny Depp would pirate the very message they intended to appropriate. Granted, when one thinks of pirates these days, one mostly thinks of Johnny Depp’s visage. The narrative may indeed be closed, yet it had closed in a direction unanticipated by the Disney Corporation and certainly never imagined by Walt himself. However, this was before the release of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. The poster for the then-forthcoming film featured a skeletal head recognizable as that of Jack Sparrow, complete with a beaded headpiece. The trailer jump cuts between shots of the action and humorous shots of Sparrow; even the film’s tagline announces “Captain Jack is Back.” Clearly, Disney had conceded that Depp’s direction—not its own—was where the trilogy would head. Yet, the magic of an original creation too often evades even the finestcrafted of sequels. In other words, proliferating plot lines spread over a trilogy of CGI madness cannot sustain the subversive, surprisingly un-Disney elements of the first installment. Instead, having switched its marketing campaign in and outside of the parks to focus on Captain Jack, it appears that Disney has thoroughly commodified the pansexual pirate, capitalizing on Depp’s performance and emptying it of its original soul. The bloated sequels evidence the corporation’s ability to co-opt and incorporate all subversive elements of the first film into the Disney machine; they verily overflow with fight scenes, incredible barnacle and octopus-headed villains, eerie witch doctors, shots of Captain Jack running like his britches are on fire, the evils of trade monopoly, bumbling characters from the first movie, a massive shipswallowing sea monster, and an ancient goddess composed, apparently, of crabs. Fittingly, the ride itself closed for a short period for renovations intended to better mirror the narrative of the films, reopening in conjunction with the premiere of Dead Man’s Chest. Walt’s vision of Pirates has been synergized, the text has been closed, and Disney will now continue to commodify and capitalize on the image of the pirate as embodied in Johnny Depp and, to a lesser extent, Orlando Bloom. A scene in the ending moments of Dead Man’s Chest does hint at a bit of moral ambiguity to the otherwise unnuanced narrative. Elizabeth passionately kisses Captain Jack whilst chaining him to the ship, leaving him for dead, and allowing the rest of the crew to escape the monstrous Kracken.11

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In the DVD commentary, screenwriters Elliott and Rossio explain that this moment allows Elizabeth to both slake and drown her lust. She acts on her desire for Jack, telling him “I always knew you were a good man,” approaching him with a fixed look of unfeigned desire. Yet, she knowingly sends him to his death—as she chains him to the ship, she whispers, “[the kracken’s] after you, not us—this is the only way, don’t you see?” The kiss is sustained and passionate, and even after she chains him to the ship, her face remains mere inches from Jack’s, their conversation a continuation of the charged kiss. As the film ends, Elizabeth appears haunted by her decision—and as the publicity for the third film promised that Sparrow will return, audiences were left to contemplate whether the heroine would return to her devoted fiancé or fall for the increasingly appealing Sparrow. While the exploration of Elizabeth’s lust presents a somewhat interesting, problematic twist, Turner’s willingness to forgive foreshadowed the unlikeliness of a romance between Sparrow and Elizabeth. In other words, I hesitate to valorize such plot twists when all signs pointed to traditional coupling at trilogy’s culmination. With a domestic gross of $423 million, Dead Man’s Chest has been acknowledged as the financial savior of the 2006 summer movie season. Yet, as un-Disney as its twisting plot lines appear, it’s simply another case of brilliant Disney marketing—while Elliott and Rossio praised Disney and Bruckheimer for his willingness to end the second installment on such a note of uncertainty, Dead Man’s Chest leaves audiences begging for expected narrative closure, easily purchasable (for a 10 dollar ticket price) in May of 2007, the release date for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. With blockbuster audiences fresh off their frustration with the overstuffed Spiderman 3, word of mouth for the equally inflated At World’s End was poor. Anthony Lane neatly sums up critical reception of the film, elaborating on the manner by which the franchise has been reduced from “jollity to wreck.”12 Yet, despite negative press and a dearth of audience buzz, the power of the franchise powered At World’s End to a $960 million international gross, a number slightly less robust than the international numbers for Dead Man’s Chest ($1.066 billion). At World’s End indeed demonstrates that “the theme park is now a ride without a theme,”13 but the ride continues toward its terminus in enormous Disney profits. If anything, its meandering narrative threads allow further commodification—the film resurrects those lost to Davy Jones’ Locker (Captain Barbossa; Captain Jack) and introduces several additional Pirates from “the ends of the world,” all neatly stereotyped racial caricatures that allow for easy reproduction on figurines, Raisin Bran boxes, incense, and dice games. Pirates of the Caribbean is no longer about cinema or subversion—it is about manufacturing a signified for thousands of proliferating products. As the original movie morphed into a franchise, laughs muted to mild amusement, and art became business. Still, audiences arrived in droves.

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The Pirates franchise exemplifies Disney’s recent turn in corporate philosophy. With the 2005 ousting of Michael Eisner, Robert Iger took over as CEO, immediately distinguishing himself from Eisner, his one-time mentor. In the summer of 2006, Iger announced Disney’s revamped entertainment strategy: fewer films, all family-friendly, and each thoroughly vertically integrated with the parks and television holdings. In other words, if it wasn’t merchandisable, it was no longer Disney. This movement speaks to the greater franchise-frenzy that typifies twenty-first-century Hollywood: The summer of 2007 was that of the threequel, packed with third installments of previously profitable narratives: Spider-Man 3 (Raimi, 2007), Shrek the Third (Miller and Hui, 2007), Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, Ocean’s Thirteen (Soderbergh, 2007), Rush Hour 3 (Ratner, 2007), Resident Evil: Extinction (Mulcahy, 2007), and The Bourne Ultimatum (Greengrass, 2007). Interestingly, only The Bourne Ultimatum out-grossed its predecessors, and the dismal business of Rush Hour 3 was, at least in part, attributed to “sequel fatigue.” Yet, the summer of 2008 is nevertheless slated with sequels, most notably to Batman Begins (Nolan, 2005), The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (Adamson, 2005), Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (Spielberg, 1989), The Hulk (Lee, 2003), The Mummy Returns (Sommers, 2001), and The X-Files (Bowman, 1998). Even nonsequels draw on tested, readily recognizable ideas: Iron Man (Favreau, 2008), based on a Marvel comics character, and the Wachowski Brothers’ Speed Racer, from the Japanese anime series. It seems that the only way to play in the high stakes game of blockbuster-producing is to insure your film with static, reliable tie-ins, unrelated to actual ticket sales. In other words, audiences may be unreliable, but their compulsion to buy Happy Meals is not. When it comes to risking hundreds of millions of dollars, it’s not difficult to see why producers opt for the tested, albeit tired, ideas. In essence, we live in a world where mega-corporations have pirated a once-vibrant world of amusement, entertainment, fantasy, and fun, and each narrative —historical, mythical, or otherwise —has already begun to close amidst our capitalist efforts to brand the faces of history. Throughout the twentieth century, Disney stuck to children’s myths and fairy tales, creating the ultimate childrens’ product. In the recent past, having acquired ABC, ESPN, plus innumerable networks, radio stations, news outlets, and print media, Disney has expanded to ’tweens and teens, the sports-hungry, the middle-aged, and the nostalgic.14 The fear, then, is that Disney has set its sights far beyond the world of children’s entertainment. While a child’s ability to imagine, individually conceive, and think beyond the images on a screen are of ultimate importance, Disney’s practice of textual closure has moved past the playground, infiltrating the very grown-up world of politics, global relations, and what it means to be an American. Director Gore Verbinski has repeatedly emphasized that the Pirates ride “is ingrained in our collective

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psyche.”15 The movies will take a similar role for a new generation of Americans, and my hope is that they not only remember Depp’s off-kilter smile or off-color humor but the fact that the combination of these traits—and our willingness to endorse them—indeed pirated the pirate film. NOTES 1. All Walt Disney quotes are taken from an episode of the Disneyland television show titled “From Pirates of the Caribbean to the World of Tomorrow,” which originally aired January 21, 1968. The episode is included in the Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl DVD extras under “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color.” 2. Jean Baudrillard, Selected Writings, 2nd ed., trans. and ed. Mark Poster (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), 173. 3. Pauline Hunt and Ronald Frankenberg, “It’s a Small World: Disneyland, the Family and The Multiple Representations of American Childhood,” in Constructing and Reconstructing Childhood: Contemporary Issues in the Sociological Study of Childhood, ed. Allison James and Alan Prout (London: The Falmer Press, 1990), 107. 4. Jason Sperb, “ ‘Take a Frown, Turn It Upside Down’: Splash Mountain, Disney World and the Cultural De-rac[e]-ination of Disney’s Song of the South.” The Journal of Popular Culture 38, no. 5 (2005), 924–38. 5. Kay F. Stone, “Three Transformations of Snow White,” in The Brothers Grimm and the Folktale, ed. J. McGlatherty (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988), 44, 52–65. 6. Moira McDonald, “Disney’s Low-Tech Country Bears Aims for Tiny Tots,” The Seattle Times, July 26, 2002, http://archives.seattletimes.nwsource.com/cgibin/texis.cgi/ web/vortex/display?slug=bears26&date=20020726 (accessed December 15, 2006). 7. Laura M. Holson, “Blow It Up and Start All Over Again,” The New York Times, November 13, 2006, http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/13/business/media/13bruck heimer.html?_r=1&oref=slogin>1&kw=Queen&LinkType=EverGreen (accessed December 15, 2006). 8. Following Pirates of the Caribbean, Depp was named People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” of 2004. 9. James B. Stewart, Disneywar (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2005), 530. 10. “He came from many directions, old Captain Jack,” says Depp. “The first thing that came to mind was I was trying to figure out what rock stars would have to do with sort of pirates in the sense that it’s like the equivalent of—the pirate of the 18th century seemed to me the rock and roll star of today. And to me the greatest rock n’ roll star of all time, the coolest rock n’ roll star of all time is Keith Richards, hands down. So, yeah, I kind of incorporated the idea of Keith. Not like an imitation of Keith or anything but just that wisdom that he carries, that sort of confidence that he has, that attack that he has. So I got that on one side and on the other side I took a little bit of this cartoon character that I’ve always loved when I was a kid, his name was Pepe Le Pew. Yeah, the skunk, Pepe Le Pew who was the skunk who smelled horrible, but was absolutely convinced that he was the ultimate ladies’ man. You know the guy, he’d fall in love with this cat and the cat quite clearly despised

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him but Pepe Le Pew sort of read it as, ‘Oh she’s just playing hard to get. Oh she’s just shy.’ And then I thought of Jack as this constantly moving organism that would shape himself to whatever situation you were in to see what he would get out of the situation.” Chuck the Movie Guy, “Interview with Johnny Depp,” Comingsoon.net, August 7, 2003, http://www.comingsoon.net/new.php?id=539 (accessed December 17, 2006). 11. I use Tennyson’s spelling of the eponymous sea monster from “The Kracken.” 12. Anthony Lane, “Men at Sea,” review of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. The New Yorker Online, June 4, 2007, http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/ 2007/06/04/070604crci_cinema_lane (accessed December 17, 2006). 13. Ibid. 14. Disney either owns or holds partial interest in ABC Family, Lifetime Network, A & E, and E! Entertainment Network. 15. Kenneth Turan, “Pirates of the Caribbean.” The Los Angeles Times, July 9, 2003, http://www.calendarlive.com/movies/reviews/cl-et-turan9jul09,0,3080268. story?coll=clmreview (accessed December 17, 2006).

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chapter 6

The Business of Race in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Sue J. Kim

The epic fantasy has displaced real contemporary concerns, and audiences are much more interested in Middle Earth than in the world they inhabit. —Robert Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times The Lord of the Rings is racist. —John Yatt, The Guardian Movies of fantasy can be more real than “realistic” movies. For example, it would be a mistake to think of The Lord of the Rings (LOTR) film trilogy as merely an escapist fantasy. On the contrary, the production, content, and distribution of the films exemplify the problems with how many people, particularly in the United States and other “first world” developed nations, think about race today. This skewed but palatable vision of race relations characterizes virtually all Hollywood productions because even slight deviations from such discourses of racial harmony can hurt box office sales. In this chapter, I will discuss how the LOTR films exemplify problems with how we understand race and how the contemporary film industry relies on such distortions.

Adapted from Kim, Sue. “Beyond Black and White: Race and Postmodernism in the Lord of the Rings Films.” Modern Fiction Studies 50, no. 4 (2004), 875–907. © Purdue Research Foundation. Reprinted with permission of the Johns Hopkins University Press.

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Public discourse about race tends to cast it in terms of identity, personal attitudes, and cultural representations rather than economic and political structures. This way of thinking is shared both by people who think racism exists and by those who do not. On the one hand, many of us wish so much that racism was a thing of the past in our enlightened multicultural societies that we believe our own wish, and few places reflect this desire more consistently and obdurately than Hollywood. On the other hand, when issues of race do arise, it is usually in terms of cultural representation or individual attitudes. Neither of these approaches, however, take into account the economic and political histories that constitute the complex realities of race. Liberal multiculturalism, the concept most powerfully informing issues of cultural diversity, gives us a model of discrete racial and cultural groups coexisting harmoniously. Unlike critical multiculturalism, liberal multiculturalism does not account for the difference in power between groups, the differences within groups, and the fluid nature of any human social group. According to the powerful discourse of liberal multiculturalism, which has been accepted by liberals as well as conservatives all over the world, the celebration— or at least “tolerance”— of cultural differences (including dress and appearance, food, speech and other modes of interacting, etc.) has made racism a thing of the past. In other words, the two notions go hand-in-hand: the idea that race is primarily a cultural, discursive, or personal issue and the idea that racism is a thing of the past. But the notion that race is some kind of essential, fixed thing, or that racism is simply the personal failing of a few anachronistic troglodytes, limits our understanding of the complex ways that racialization actually works. In their seminal Racial Formations in the United States, Michael Omi and Howard Winant discuss how race is produced historically, through contending social forces that pervade all aspects of our lives. Like gender and sexuality, the subtle dynamics of racial power suffuse every aspect of our existence, so cultural analyses of race continue to be crucial. But race is also shaped by economic and political forces; Omi and Winant define racism as a process that “creates or reproduces structures of domination based on essentialist categories of race.”1 So, for example, the exploitation and exacerbation of vast differences in wealth within nations and internationally often works in conjunction with race. Our problem is that because we think of race in terms of liberal multiculturalism and its focus on culture and identity rather than political and economic structures, we can fantasize that making images of happy interracial harmony actually produces positive race relations. The dream of liberal multiculturalism characterizes the contemporary film industry (primarily Hollywood, although these discourses also arise in independent films), which sells us this notion of race in places we may least expect it. To fulfill audience’s desires to have racial issues resolved, mainstream films gesture toward challenging issues but ultimately gloss over or even

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suppress the real issues. This suppression is at the heart of the appeal of such films as LOTR, which broke numerous box office records.2 For an industry driven primarily by profit motive, the films offer a wish-fulfillment through their surface of interracial harmony, even as they draw on racist discourses. By examining the semiotics of the films in conjunction with their economic– political contexts, we can better understand why and how limiting ourselves only to the arena of culture or discourse ultimately limits our ability to have meaningful discussions about race. Moreover, we can see how Hollywood uses such watered-down notions of multiculturalism in the content and marketing of its films, while in production and distribution it exploits the same economic and power structures that exacerbate real issues of racial disparity. “MEN OF THE WEST”: COLOR CODING IN LOTR Given that contemporary discourses of race fixate on cultural representation, it is strange that there has been so little discussion about the racial politics of the LOTR films. In terms of racial coding, it is the only contemporary fantasy/sci-fi blockbuster film series as immediately cringe-inducing as the first new Star Wars film, Episode I: The Phantom Menace. The Matrix, as laughably atrocious as Reloaded and Resurrection may have been, at least attempted to be ethnically sensitive and diverse. Each ship’s crew pointedly includes nonwhite members, and Zion is a multiracial city led by a council, one of whom is played by Cornel West, a prominent African American philosopher. The film’s principal heroes include Laurence Fishburne (Morpheus) and Jada Pinkett Smith (Niobe), both African American actors. Harry Potter has a Chinese love interest, and the British public school context of Hogwarts steers clear of anything like the debacle of Jar-Jar or Princess Amidala’s geisha getup. In the LOTR trilogy, however, goodness consistently correlates to whiteness, racially and as color scheme. The good guys are associated with Europe, particularly England and the Scandinavian countries, the West, and the North. Evil is invariably black, savage, Southern (or “Southron”), and Eastern. All racially white actors, whether from New Zealand (where the film was shot), Australia, the United States, Ireland, or England, are assimilable as Middle Earth heroes (although they must adopt British accents), and they display a heterogeneous mix of European (mostly British and Scandinavian) cultural references. The films generally draw their racial and color-coding from the novels, but in the visual medium many aspects appear more striking.3 The “Men of the West” are led by “The White Wizard,” Gandalf, with his white horse, Shadowfax, particularly in defending the racially white people of Rohan and the “White City” of Minas Tirith. Aragorn is a “Ranger from the North” who can speak to horses in not only Elvish but also Old English, and Rohan is of Scandinavian design.4 Eowyn’s lament for Theoden’s son, Theodred,

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is drawn from Old English, and cowriter Philippa Boyens notes that for the Rohirrim they drew on “bits and pieces of Beowulf.”5 The costume designers discuss their intent to make Galadriel the “most white,” “most elegant,” and “most beautiful” of all the characters.6 Hobbit culture and language is drawn from the United Kingdom, and Hobbiton at Mata Mata was designed to convey “homely and familiar” comfort, such as, “Englishness.”7 Conversely, “black” signifies evil, particularly the faceless Black Riders with black hoods and horses. Although Saruman the White, played by Christopher Lee, is one of the chief villains, he proves to be merely “passing”; his castle of black obsidian and black chamber and palantir tip off viewers to his black heart. At the council meeting at Rivendell, Gandalf speaks “the black speech of Mordor”; director Peter Jackson notes that the scene “shows the power of black speech within the elven world of Rivendell . . . the evil force saying those words can conjure up.”8 The various nonhuman minions of Sauron and Saruman exhibit an array of racialized characteristics, although these traits are generally mixed and inconsistent.9 Goblins are blunt-nosed, short, stooping, and slant-eyed. The orcs, who are “elves gone bad,” as explained by Treebeard in the extended version, have brown and red faces.10 The Urukhai are tall, black, and muscular with long, coarse hair that resembles dreadlocks. These Uruks, a racial mongrel of goblins and orcs,11 are shown being “harvested” from mud; thus they are literally “mud people.” Although these monster-villains are generally nameless, animalistic monsters, the one exception is Lurtz, the Uruk captain who is shown emerging from the mud. The filmmakers explain that they invented Lurtz to personify the Uruk-hai and to provide a mobile villain, since both Sauron and Saruman are stationary.12 Lurtz, although entirely covered with prosthetics and make-up, is played by Lawrence Makoare, a Maori of the Ngati Whatua tribe (Makoare), who also plays the Witch King, the Nazgûl captain, in Return of the King.13 Makoare also played “Macenus/Barbarian Leader” in a 1995 episode of Xena: Warrior Princess and “Mr. Kil” in 2002’s Die Another Day.14 Asked why indigenous people always play villains, he replies, “I always play the bad guys . . . it’s a type cast thing. . . . I am not upset about it . . . whether you play the bad guys or good guys, the pay is the same. 5 bucks. heh.” In New Zealand, he continues, “everyone knows me as the bad guy . . . I think I’m the first choice.”15 Makoare also voiced Lurtz, and when Makoare had to leave the production for other engagements, Sala Baker, a New Zealand actor of Samoan descent and a professional stunt-person, took over the Lurtz role. Baker also plays Sauron in the Fellowship prologue and an Uruk at Amon Hen in the Two Towers.16 Disturbingly, with their white face paint (“the White Hand of Saruman”) and coarse black hair, the Uruks strongly resemble Maori warriors. In the New Zealand film Utu, the Maori warrior Te Wheke, played by Anzac Wallace (a former convict, labor organizer, and arbitrator of Maori descent), seeks

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revenge (“utu”) for the betrayals by the British.17 Te Wheke tattoos his face to signify his declaration of war against the Pakeha (white New Zealanders).18 Te Wheke’s trenchant, militant rage is contrasted to his brother Wiremu’s decision to pursue biculturalism. Wiremu is played by Wi Kuki Kaa, who although also ethnically Maori, appears more Westernized and thereby symbolizes a rational, liberal multicultural society. “By the end of the film,” Blythe notes, “Te Wheke . . . has been executed for his transgressions against Maori and Pakeha.”19 In other words, Te Wheke represents the irrational hatred on the part of the savage other. Disturbingly, Makoare as Lurtz shares characteristics of Te Wheke, including brown skin, thick, wiry, black, almost dreadlocked hair, facial tattoos, a hulking physique, and an implacable, primordial desire to destroy (white) people. The Two Towers film, with its extended battle sequences, introduces us to the “Southrons” and “Easterlings.” While the novels inform us that Sauron has struck deals with and/or enslaved these people, in the films they simply appear amassing in Mordor. The Easterlings have kohl-rimmed, almondshaped eyes and dark skin and wear turbans. On the actors’ commentary track, Sean Astin enthuses about the Easterlings’ “South Asian” look.20 Return of the King’s siege of Minas Tirith features the Easterlings as well as the Southrons, who are large, muscular, face-painted, and black, both groups riding atop enormous “oliphaunts” (large elephants). Again, whereas the novels at least hint at the humanity of the Southrons and Easterlings —we get a little insight into their reactions to the “Captains of the West,” and Aragorn has to deal with them as peoples after the war— in the films, they embody abstract evil that disappears when defeated. In a scene cut from the theatrical release (and thought by Sam in the novel), Faramir wonders aloud about the humanity of a fallen Easterling. Jackson argues that this addresses Tolkien’s critics: “People say that he’s racist, people say that he’s pro-war,” but such a scene indicates that Tolkien despised war and questions “why the enemy are supposed to be different from him.”21 But this episode does more to humanize Faramir than the anonymous, dead Easterling, and it is only a brief moment—cut from the theatrical version— in three epic films laden with racialized imagery. Jackson’s comment also reflects the identity-/experiencedbased conception of politics and ideology. Furthermore, Jackson notes that the inspiration for the siege of Helm’s Deep came from the 1964 Michael Caine film Zulu, based on an 1879 event in which 150 British soldiers held a garrison at Rorke’s Drift, South Africa, against 4,000 Zulu warriors. For this, British soldiers received the highest number of Victoria Crosses awarded to a regiment for one action, and Rorke’s Drift has become a tourist attraction to which people still make “pilgrimages.”22 Jackson recalls, “Zulu was always in the back of my mind when I was thinking about Helm’s Deep,” and he discusses drawing on the way Zulu builds tension for the first hour and then “all hell breaks loose.”23

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In Two Towers, tens of thousands of orcs and Uruks amass at Orthanc and then attack the small Rohan band at Helm’s Deep; like beetles or cockroaches they swarm over the landscape, scale the walls, and spill over (and destroy) the battlements. The correlation of orcs, Uruks, and goblins with insects (and Zulus) is not wholly inadvertent; in discussing the design of the prosthetics for the villains, famed Tolkien artist John Howe notes that they should be “insect-like,” like “cockroaches,” with “black, dark, nasty suits of armor.”24 Jackson also refers to other action-adventure films based on fantasies of defeating savage others. In Moria, the cave troll scene in Gloin’s tomb is a homage to Harryhausen, director of such early fantasy films as Sinbad and Jason and the Argonauts, and when the Balrog emerges, Jackson notes that one of his references was Indiana Jones.25 Overall, the racial coding of the films far exceeds the film’s intended message of cross-cultural cooperation, most pointedly conveyed in Legolas and Gimli’s relationship. The filmmakers also invent other episodes to stress this point, such as when a battalion of elves, despite long-standing estrangement, comes to aid the humans at Helm’s Deep. Likewise, although Christine Brooke-Rose argues that Legolas’ and Gimli’s only function in the novels is “to illustrate dwarf and elf characteristics,”26 their friendship is supposed to demonstrate the possibilities for cooperation even between individuals of different cultures and species with long historical animosities, thus moving beyond a deterministic view of those characters and their races. The films also problematize race-consciousness by showing, in Fellowship, Aragorn struggling with his lineage and membership in the human race, preferring the ways (and women) of the elves. In fact, Aragorn himself is a product of a mixture of cultures; as a Dunédain, he lives longer than normal humans, he was raised by the elves, and his children, presumably, will be half elvish. But again, these are just a few notes in an overall symphony of racial coding. The oddest thing about the trilogy is that they invoke contemporary racial discourses without really referring to them, but at the same time the films cannot really escape those racial discourses. The Uruks are big, black, savage, and dreadlocked, their faces tattooed with war paint. The heroes are of “the West” and “the White,” while Mordor is “the Black Land.” These fantastic representations exceed, while never wholly shedding, delineations of current and historical racial discourses. For example, it is curious and bizarre that while most of the Uruks, orcs, and goblins are played by white actors, and while all the actors playing monsters are completely covered by prosthetics and make-up, a Maori actor was cast in the role of Lurtz and the Witch-King and an ethnically Samoan actor in the role of Sauron. Two reasons for this infelicitous casting come to mind. First, as Makoare has noted, he is typecast as “the bad guy,” whether on New Zealand television or Xena: Warrior Princess. Furthermore, Makoare and Baker apparently seem “natural” in these roles because the Uruks, Sauron, and the Witch-King are big, black, savage, and

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evil. These casting and typecasting issues have to do with the issues of the racialized political-economic situation I will discuss later in this chapter; my point here is that the film simply overflows with racial issues that work on two levels. On the surface, the rhetoric of liberal multiculturalism— of many species living together in happy harmony—reassures us; at the same time, the specter of whites besieged by dark hordes speaks to deeper racial anxieties. Both of these levels are key to the films’ appeal. But despite the glaring obviousness of these racial delineations, discussions about race in LOTR and contemporary films in general tend to be confused or avoided altogether. For example, film critics who can intelligently discuss the film’s aesthetics and possible commentaries on war or other topics, find themselves stymied when trying to discuss race (and gender). For example, in the online magazine Slate’s “Year in Movies” discussion by four prominent film critics, the conversation becomes mired down in identities and indeterminacy. The conversation ignites when L.A. Times critic Manohla Dargis, after responding angrily to Village Voice critic J. Hoberman’s suggestion that LOTR was disliked by women because it is “more of a guy thing,” asks, “Do you think that a lot of (American) critics have become reluctant to deal with movies politically for fear of being labeled ‘politically correct’? ”27 New York Times film critic A. O. Scott agrees that while “there is a political dimension to a great many movies,” “trying to establish it too early or evaluate it too dogmatically makes for dull and predictable criticism.” In most cases, he argues, “the political implications of movies are either muddled . . . or opaque, and their connection to the world of actual politics becomes clear only in retrospect.” Politics are indeterminable because each person’s political beliefs are determined not only by “age, taste, gender, sexuality, or anything else,” they are also often marked by “complexity, incoherence, and unpredictability,” as well as “boredom” and “muddle-headedness.” Dargis agrees that her own politics are “a big confusing jumble” and that she does not “look at movies through a specific political lens,” so “I never want to write a review with some sort of (political) checklist in hand.” Wesley Morris, film critic for the Boston Globe, concurs that “a lot of critics do fear dealing with movies’ politics,” either out of the “muddle” of one’s own politics or “some kind of editorial pressure.” And Scott agrees, “politics can be quite slippery and ambiguous—and, as often as not, reflections of the political inclinations and rhetorical skills of the people watching them.” So the answer to the question that Scott poses—“Does Return of the King, with its martial sweep and its clearly demarcated lines of good and evil—racial lines, by the way, albeit drawn between imaginary races—stand as a mirror for our own times?”—remains, ultimately, unanswerable. Similarly, John Yatt in The Guardian identifies both the films and novels as “racist,” then dismisses the issue with a guilty shrug.28 Otherwise, there is little or no conversation about race in the films.

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But we can understand the politics of a film like LOTR in more complex and concrete ways, particularly in the context of the global industry mainstream films have become. The “complexity,” “muddle-headedness,” and “incomprehensibility” of the debate about representation and race may have more to do with its premises than simply each person’s innate confusion. Dargis starts down a productive path at one point, although she shies away from making any definitive statement: Yes, the critic certainly, in part, defines a movie’s politics. But there is a political dimension to even the most ostensibly nonpolitical film, just as there is a political dimension to clothes (Made in China . . . by slave labor!) and food (McDonalds or Slow Food–approved). There is a political dimension to how movie money is raised, what screenwriter and director are chosen, how many and what kind of theaters a film opens in, and it is naive to believe otherwise. Everyone decides what is important to them—how much compromise he or she can stand, and what he or she does with their contradictions.29

While the previous dialogues about fantasy, films, and politics point to the limitations of modern discourses of race, here Dargis suggests possibilities for moving beyond a “checklist” or “litmus test” model of political analyses. What are the structures and processes of power, particularly economically and politically, that shape the experiences and perceptions of different groups of people? As David Golumbia points out in his critique of Star Trek ’s liberal humanist take on race, when race hatred is seen as stemming from primordial, essential “hatred,” there is no consideration of the possible “justifications” of anger, no reflection on the dynamics of one’s own structures, organizations, and processes (e.g., the Federation), nothing but a blissful utopia of a future devoid of racial conflict: Insofar as that rational-logical structure, the Federation, represents the white power structure in place in the U.S. (and the neutralizing and blinding ideology upon which it rests), the show offers us the spectacle of that power structure and of what we might call hegemonic whiteness watching the Watts riots in horror, while relying on its utopian displacements to make those conflicts strange, alien, not part of “us” and significantly not our fault.30

We can see a similar dynamic operating with LOTR. The films function through willful repression. The experience is that our “selves” are okay because the kind of racial strife between the elves and the dwarves is, for us, a relic of the past. We are okay not only because it is “just a movie,” but also because its production, marketing, and distribution is transnational and multicultural; white American actor Viggo Mortensen and New Zealander

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(ethnically Samoan) actor Sala Baker greet one another at The Two Towers premiere with an affectionate head-butt.31 The film was made in New Zealand and intended for a primarily American audience; although global distribution is part and parcel of the industry now, on the DVD commentaries, several times Jackson and the writers address American audiences (e.g., translating Celsius into Fahrenheit). But while the LOTR films were produced by and for multicultural societies putatively dedicated to racial, ethnic, and cultural harmony, the fantasy of cross-cultural cooperation and harmony relies on (while denying) racist discourses and structures that are themselves “real” yet elusive. By obscuring their own premises—the economic, political, social, and psychological processes that rely on, create, and exacerbate racism in our world—the films package and sell liberal multiculturalism to audiences. MAKING THE LORD OF THE RINGS IN A WORLD OF FANTASY Comparing the context of the films’ production to its content and strategies of distribution cast light on the division between the realities and perceptions of race. The films’ production and distribution epitomize the logic of global late capitalism: “transnational” labor forces (both in terms of recruiting skilled workers from anywhere in the world as well as in terms of core nation/First World capital utilizing periphery/non-West labor), global and diversified marketing and merchandising, and an increasing emphasis in developed/First-World countries on information/technology industries and short-term, nonunionized, mobile labor. These processes of financial and political restructuring can be directly related to social changes and issues of cultural diversity. The production process of the LOTR films epitomizes the flexibility and reach of new forms of production in a globalized economy. Although the U.S. companies Miramax and then New Line financed the films, the actual production was relegated to lower-cost New Zealand. Renowned Tolkien artist Alan Lee, whom Jackson recruited along with John Howe to help design the film, speaks of the film as a “huge collaborative process,” involving over 3,000 crew members and over 300 people in the art department who worked for three to four years to create Middle Earth.32 Richard Taylor, the president, supervisor, and spiritual guru of Weta Workshop, discusses how he hired principally young New Zealand artists who did not necessarily have film experience but had a solid background in art.33 Artisans, craftspeople, and artists in New Zealand who could make swords, costumes, sets, masks, and a wide variety of objects—in both traditional and innovative ways — were contracted for this film, working “day and night” for several years.34 Although the films were shot in New Zealand, the cast, crew, and others involved with the production and marketing were international. Specialized

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information- and technology-innovators were brought in from all over the world for this short-term project designed for mass global consumption. In various ways, these workers are information/technology workers, not quite “part-time” but nevertheless temporary, mobile, young, and not unionized. Like most products consumed in the United States, the final product hides the labor that went into producing it. The obscuring of technical wizardry and aesthetic manipulation characterizes not only contemporary fantasy/ sci-fi films but, in various ways, films, texts, and other works of art in the past. But, as claimed repeatedly by Jackson, Taylor, and others, in contrast to the delightfully cheesy Harryhausen movies and even the original Star Wars films, the breakthrough of LOTR is the incredible realism of the fantasy.35 Also hidden is state support and involvement in the production of this high-tech export product. For example, the New Zealand army not only constructed the bridge but also built roads and planted the trees and gardens for Hobbiton at Mata Mata.36 At the same time, the film’s marketing strategy entails recording all this information and selling it as a product. The LOTR franchise broke ground not only in terms of technical filmmaking but also in its innovative, synergistic marketing strategies. “The modern strategies [for marketing] of the big Hollywood companies” entail far more than the film itself; merchandizing and marketing campaigns involve repeat viewings, DVDs (in original formats, extended versions, and extra appendices), free Web publicity, video games, infotainment as advertisements on networks like the Sci Fi channel, magazines, etc.37 As Thompson observes, “A fantasy film, especially as part of a franchise and even more especially as part of a franchise with an existing fan base, can generate enormous income from licensed merchandise and tieins.”38 New Line and AOL, both subsidiaries of mammoth media conglomerate Time Warner, also broke new ground in their savvy manipulation of the internet publicity campaign, “controlling rather than thwarting” piracy for publicity reaching over 65 million people around the world.39 But while the films were made by and for peoples from several countries (primarily New Zealand, the United States, England, and Australia) that constitute an increasingly transnational popular culture in a global economy, New Zealand itself remains marked by the history of colonialism and imperialism in two senses. First, as a former British colony, New Zealanders retain cultural, economic, and political ties to the former Mother Country. Beyond the general influence of British television on Jackson, particularly the work of veterans Bernard Hill (Theoden) and Christopher Lee (Saruman), several other references to former colonial relations appear throughout interviews and the DVD commentaries. One amusing example is Jackson’s proud reference to Australians and New Zealanders as the “crasser members of the Commonwealth.”40 Second, the Maori peoples, Pacific Island immigrants (PI), and the entire country continue to struggle with economic, racial, and

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cultural problems. Examining this history of imperialism, in contrast to and in conjunction with the films, can help us to talk about race and racial issues in more productive terms. New Zealand has traditionally prided itself on its commitment to diversity; as Jane Kelsey puts it, the country “used to claim credit as the first country to give women the vote, as the birthplace of the welfare state, for a harmonious multiracial society and, more recently, for being ‘clean, green and nuclear free.’ ”41 But economic disparities along racial and ethnic lines have in fact increased since New Zealand restructured its economy for the global markets in which LOTR has been so successful. Like many countries that had formerly emphasized industrialization in the decades following WWII, in the 1980s and 1990s, New Zealand shifted from a reliance on manufacturing and state-sponsored services to deregulation, flexible accumulation, and information-, technology-, and service-based industries.42 The “New Zealand experiment,” as it has been dubbed, has been praised by the World Bank and the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) as an “international success story.”43 But these economic changes have disproportionately hurt Maori and Pacific Islanders; moreover, the resulting social marginalization of these groups has been cast in terms of racial and cultural differences. The racialized wealth gap contradicts and complicates New Zealand’s narrative —shared by many in other first-world nations — that racism is on the decline. Economic restructuring has directly impacted race relations in New Zealand, as Maori and Pacific Islanders, who provided much of the labor required during the postwar expansion years, have found themselves increasingly cast aside. Many state industries traditionally held by Maori and Pacific Islanders were privatized, including post office, railway, and forestry service.44 Overall, cuts in manufacturing and state-related jobs led to a two-thirds decline in employment between 1985 and 1989, and 80% of those who lost their jobs were Maori.45 Maori unemployment peaked at 27% in 1992, and PI unemployment peaked at over 30% in 1991; by the mid-1990s, Maori unemployment had fallen to 16% and PI to 17%, but these were still higher than the rates for the overall population.46 While one-third of whites in New Zealand are working class, one-half of Maoris and two-thirds of Pacific Islanders are working class.47 In other words, a disproportionate number of Maori and Pacific Islanders are unemployed or working poor. The media in New Zealand—as in the United States—casts social problems resulting from economic disparities in terms of race and culture. For example, Judy McGregor and Joanne TeAwa point out that the news media focuses on “racialised forms of problems or conflict” instead of “deeper social, political or economic causes and backgrounds of these conflicts.”48 Despite the emerging, increasingly disparate class system, the divide between Maoris/ Pacific Islanders and the rest of New Zealanders is seen in terms of a “racial

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problem.”49 Or, paralleling moves by the Slate film critics, structural and systemic problems are cast in terms of identity, culture, and race. Citing William J. Wilson’s When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor, D. Baker compares the New Zealand underclass to the “dispossessed class of urban blacks and whites” around the world, “individuals or groups with limited skills, education or capital” who are “faced with the possibility of structural unemployment or subsistence-paying jobs.”50 In the Pacific and other places, underdevelopment is the product of advanced capital drawing on precapitalist economies. Uneven economic development has and continues to shape the racial divides and discourses of developing and developed nations. In this context, the typecasting of Makoare and Baker give the lie not only to the dream of multiculturalism and international cosmopolitanism, it also indicates the socioeconomic history that shapes the racialized hierarchy of New Zealand. The films’ “racializations,” drawing on popular racial discourses, mystify race into the abstract (it is there but not), ignoring and denying the actual political realities of racialization and late capitalism while also relying on those very processes. These processes rely on the burial of race — or the privileging of certain conceptions of race and the denial of others. Liberal analyses of race relations are premised on the notion that racial conflict arises from identity/ethnicity/ culture, but “racism and ethnic categorization,” Loomis argues, “are important means of class domination which are given effect through individual behavior, institutional policy and public ideological discourses.”51 Limiting the terms of the debate to identity and discourse does not, ultimately, explain the processes that unevenly distribute resources and divide potential working-class allies by racial animosities, often over a manufactured, unnecessary scarcity of resources. Concomitant to a “culturalist” understanding is the assumption that “racism” either no longer exists or only exists among a few extremist radicals. Purely cultural multiculturalism is easily assimilable into fantasies that draw on a polyglot of cultures, in content and form. For example, in LOTR, the filmmakers note that the funeral of Théodon’s son Theodred (cut from the theatrical version) combines an Old English elegy, sung by Éowyn, with the Maori custom in which the men hand the body to the women.52 Thus, LOTR exemplifies how Hollywood can use liberal multiculturalism as a selling point while also relying on and perpetuating racialized discourses and structural disparities. I want to conclude by discussing how the same limits on considerations of race in Lord of the Rings also apply to a film as stridently “realistic” as Crash. The 2005 film won both accolades (including the Academy Award for Best Picture) and criticism, from film reviews in Slate, the L.A. Times, and the New York Times.53 The film was cowritten and directed by Canadian Paul Haggis, who has discussed the film as a response to his own experience of being carjacked.54 But given the terms with which many Americans think and talk

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about race, a movie like Crash cannot help but fail. Its failure to present a vision of multicultural harmony prevents it from even being a true blockbuster like Lord of the Rings. On another level, those who believe race is an issue but think of it only in terms of culture or identity will have none of those basic assumptions challenged by Crash. In the film, racism is a personal failing that infects everyone and is, for the most part, separate from other issues. That is, although, race is, as one reviewer writes, the “one obsessive issue . . . [that] effects relationships and decisions, shapes and distorts character, and determines social policy,”55 we never really understand why race is an issue. It simply emanates from the primordial racial differences of the various discrete groups. The purpose of the movie for this audience, as the consistently liberal multiculturalist Roger Ebert writes, is that “anyone seeing it is likely to be moved to have a little more sympathy for people not like themselves.”56 All the characters are determined by their race, and redemption—particularly for whites—will come primarily through understanding. As Peter Bradshaw observes, the angry white woman played by Sandra Bullock “is actually in need of a hug. So is everyone else.”57 But despite its earnest intentions, the film exacerbates the belief that race is primarily a personal failing, mostly a product of prejudice and bad feelings rather than larger economic and political structures. The one exception to this treatment of race is the predicament of the policeman played by Matt Dillon. His racism is linked to his anger and frustration that he cannot provide medical care for his ailing father due to the bureaucratic hurdles of his health insurance provider. In the scene, Dillon’s character pleads with the female, African American insurance supervisor, played by Loretta Devine, who can fix his problems with a stroke of her pen. He explains that his father, who had owned a custodial company and paid fair wages to black workers during decades when no one else was, lost everything when the city’s post–civil rights policies began to favor minorityowned businesses. This, the only moment in the film that hints at how political economy actually shapes the terms of race, is actually used to justify racism and criticize affirmative action. Roger Ebert argues that Dillon’s racism toward Devine’s character is “only an excuse for his anger” at the HMO, but, on the contrary, through its obsessive fixation on race as a personal failing, the film casts everything else as a bad by-product of racism. Instead of showing how those structures of power, which often take bureaucratic forms, imprison us all and indeed lead to easy scapegoats, the fi lm reassures us that it is race, and not those structures, that cause our problems. And the film is most problematic when it fantasizes that such a health insurance supervisor would deny coverage on the basis of reverse racism. In the real world, it is more likely that financial and profit pressures would force the hand of an insurance supervisor, regardless of race or gender. So Crash, like LOTR, seeks to assuage fears and liberal guilt, but its terms actually obscure the conditions that create racial inequality and anger.

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In arguing this, my purpose is not to return to the old claim that race (or gender or sexuality) should be subsumed under economics. My point is not that this history of production and economics is the “real story” belying the fantasy; it is just not that simple a bifurcation. But discussion of discourses, semiotics, and attitudes about race without consideration of political, economic, and social structures not only leaves out a large part of the picture, it actually has led to a kind of dead-end in contemporary conversations about race. The Lord of the Rings films, taken on their own terms, are beautiful cultural productions that have brought pleasure to people from all walks of life, and this aspect of the films is real, too. The problem is that our “reality” beyond the films is as fantastical as the films if we believe in the success of liberal multiculturalism, that issues of racial and gendered discrimination, oppression, and exploitation are relics of the past, as mythical as trolls, elves, and wise, good kings. The entirety of the production and distribution of films such as LOTR can actually show a reality more real than the fantasies of happily multicultural societies in which we so want to believe, despite the facts, and which Hollywood is and will continue to be more than happy to sell to us. NOTES 1. Michael Omi and Howard Winant, Racial Formation in the United States, 2nd ed. (New York: Routledge, 1994), 71. 2. According to the Internet Movie Database, The Return of the King ranked second in all-time worldwide box office and ninth in U.S. sales, Two Towers ranked eighth worldwide and thirteenth in the United States, and Fellowship ranked fifteenth worldwide and twenty-first in the United States. Moreover, each installation of the trilogy broke the previous film’s records for December opening. “Lord of the Rings Breaks Record,” CNNMoney.com (December 18, 2003). Available from: http://money.cnn. com/2003/12/18/news/companies/lotr_opening/ (accessed December 24, 2007). 3. Although the novels share many of these characteristics, their ability to explore symbolism, diplomacy and war, culture, and history in greater depth and subtlety renders their black-and-white coding more ambivalent than in the films. 4. “Audio Commentary,” The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Special extended DVD, directed by Peter Jackson (2002, New Line Home Entertainment, 2003). 5. “Audio Commentary,” Two Towers. 6. “Designing and Building Middle-earth,” The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Special extended DVD, directed Peter Jackson (2001, New Line Home Entertainment, 2002). 7. “Designing.” 8. “Audio Commentary,” The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Special extended DVD, directed by Peter Jackson (2001, New Line Home Entertainment, 2002). 9. The various goblins, orcs, and Uruk-hai also often speak with working-class cockney accents, suggesting also making the poor king class another race. Similarly,

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the Wild Men of the hills that Saruman sets against Rohan are “disenfranchised human beings” who are rural “primitive, inbred wild men,” and in “Audio,” Two Towers, Jackson notes one could imagine banjos playing. 10. “Audio Commentary,” Fellowship. 11. “Audio Commentary,” Fellowship. 12. “Audio Commentary,” Fellowship. 13. Lawrence Makoare, “Impromptu Chat with Lawrence Makoare —the Actor Behind Lurtz and the Witch King!” (2002) Available from: http://www.theonering.net/ events/logs/030802.html (accessed February 7, 2007). 14. The Internet Movie Database (2004). Available from: http://www.imdb.com (accessed February 6, 2004). 15. Makoare. 16. Sala Baker, “Impromptu Chat with Sala Baker—the Actor Behind Sauron!” (2002). Available from: http://www.theonering.net/events/logs/040802.html (accessed February 7, 2004). 17. Internet Movie Data Base. 18. Martin Blythe, Naming the Other: Images of the Maori in New Zealand Film and Television (Metuchen: Scarecrow, 1994), 240. 19. Blythe, 247. 20. “Audio Commentary: The Cast,” The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Special extended DVD, directed by Peter Jackson (2002, New Line Home Entertainment, 2003). 21. “Audio Commentary,” Two Towers. 22. “Rorke’s Drift 1879” (2007). Available from: http://www.rorkesdriftvc.com/ index.html (accessed August 29, 2007). 23. “Audio Commentary,” Two Towers; “From Book to Script: Finding the Story,” The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Special extended DVD, directed by Peter Jackson (2002, New Line Home Entertainment, 2003). 24. “Designing.” 25. “Audio Commentary,” Fellowship. 26. Christine Brooke-Rose, A Rhetoric of the Unreal (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981), 249. 27. “The Year in Movies: A Cry in the Dark,” Slate Magazine (January 5–9, 2004). Available from: Slate http://slate.msn.com (accessed January 15, 2004). 28. John Yatt, “Wraiths and Race,” The Guardian (December 2, 2002). Available from: http://books.guardian.co.uk (accessed August 20, 2007). 29. Manohla Dargis, “Witness to the Masturbation,” Slate (January 9, 2004). Available from: http://www.slate.com/id/2093274/entry/2093703/ (accessed August 13, 2008). 30. David Golumbia, “Black and White World: Race, Ideology, and Utopia in Triton and Star Trek,” Cultural Critique 32 (Winter 1995–96): 85. 31. “Filming ‘The Two Towers,’ ” The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Special extended DVD, directed by Peter Jackson (2002, New Line Home Entertainment, 2003). 32. “Designing.” 33. “Designing.” 34. “Designing.”

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35. One of the most fascinating aspects of the films’ design, effects, and production is the commitment, almost completely without irony, to “realism.” Taylor points out that often in fantasy films, actors have to “wink” at the audience to make them accept what is happening, but for them, “It was imperative that Middle Earth was real” (“Designing”). The Weta Workshop literally created the entire universe of the films with an incredible amount of thought, care, labor, and even love in every detail of every prop, costume, and set of the film. Over 45,000 different miniatures, prosthetics, and other items were created by Weta over three to four years. In keeping with the racialization of that world, their philosophy was that every aspect of culture (including dress, dominant colors, architecture, weapons, armor, etc.) of the many “races and cultures” in the books should be identifiable on sight. Each race has a distinctive design of arrow, and over 10,000 arrows were produced for the first film alone. Actual swordsmiths were hired to create real swords for the actors (Viggo Mortensen supposedly kept his by his side constantly). Fifty-eight remarkably detailed, very large miniatures—or “Big-atures,” as Weta dubbed them—were created for the film (including Rivendell, Orthanc, and Lothlorien). For the three films, over 10,000 facial appliances and over 1,800 body suits of foam latex were created; the designers note that they particularly had to create a vast number of facial prosthetics because they would only last one day. Over 1,800 pairs of hobbit feet were created for the four main characters alone. Over 12 kilometers of pipe were sliced into over 12.5 million rings to form hundreds of chain mail garments; in the process, the two people who spent the bulk of over three and half years assembling these garments wore away their fingerprints. At the same time, Jackson notes how interesting it is that while some critics “tore us to pieces” for errors like the “tomato” reference in Fellowship, pointing out that Tolkien revised his novels to cut out New World items like potatoes, few people took issue with the references to tobacco—never mind the elves, talking trees, and balrogs (“Audio Commentary,” Fellowship). 36. “Audio Commentary,” Fellowship; “Designing.” 37. Kristen Thompson, “Fantasy, Franchises, and Frodo Baggins: The Lord of the Rings and Modern Hollywood,” Velvet Light Trap 52 (Fall 2003): 61. 38. Thompson, 58. 39. Thompson, 54 –57. 40. “Audio Commentary,” Fellowship. 41. Jane Kelsey, The New Zealand Experiment: A World Model for Structural Adjustment? 2nd ed. (Auckland: Auckland UP, 1997), 1. See also Kelsey, Rolling Back the State: Privatisation of Power in Aotearoa/New Zealand (Wellington: Bridget Williams, 1993). 42. In New Zealand, as in the United States, employment underwent what has been dubbed “McDonaldization”; work is temporary but faster-paced, with fewer opportunities for development or advancement. Most such jobs have no benefits, security, or union representation, and two-thirds of part-time workers are women. And although these McDonaldized jobs are qualitatively different from those of the artists and technicians who worked on the LOTR films, they are structurally similar: insecure, short-term, and politically unorganized. 43. Kelsey, New Zealand, 1.

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44. Paul Spoonley, “Mahi Awatea? The Racialisation of Work in Aotearoa/New Zealand,” Nga Patai: Racism and Ethnic Relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand, ed. Paul Spoonley et al. (Palmerston North: Dunmore, 1996), 66. 45. Spoonley, 65 – 66. 46. Patrick Ongley, “Immigration, Employment and Ethnic Relations,” Nga Patai: Racism and Ethnic Relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand, ed. Paul Spoonley et al. (Palmerston North: Dunmore, 1996), 23. 47. Terrence Loomis, Pacific Migrant Labour, Class and Racism in New Zealand: Fresh Off the Boat (Aldershot: Avebury, 1990), 67. 48. Judy McGregor and Joanne TeAwa, “Racism and the News Media,” Nga Patai: Racism and Ethnic Relations in Aotearoa/New Zealand, ed. Paul Spoonley et al. Palmerston North: Dunston, 1996), 237–38. Similarly, Loomis notes, “A television journalist speaks authoritatively about tensions between ‘racial communities’ in South Auckland. An Opposition parliamentarian warns of an emerging Polynesian ‘underclass.’ And a Maori activist condemns ‘Pakeha domination’ ” (5). 49. Spoonley, 58–59. 50. Donald G. Baker, Review of Nga Patai: Racism and Ethnic Relations in Aotearoa/ New Zealand, ed. Paul Spoonley et al., Ethnic and Racial Studies 21, no. 4 (July 1998): 795. 51. Loomis, 4. 52. “Audio Commentary,” Two Towers. 53. David Edelstein, “Crash and Fizzle,” Slate (May 5, 2005). Available from: http:// www.slate.com (accessed August 20, 2007); Carina Chocano, “Crash,” L. A. Times (May 6, 2005). Available from: http://www.latimes.com (accessed August 20, 2007); A. O. Scott, “Bigotry as the Outer Side of Inner Angst,” New York Times (May 6, 2005). Available from: http://www.nytimes.com (accessed August 20, 2007). 54. Paul Haggis, “On the Origins of Crash.” Available from: http://www.landmark theatres.com/mn/crash.html (accessed August 25, 2007). 55. Philip French, “Hollywood’s Last Taboo,” The Guardian (August 14, 2005). Available from: http://www.guardian.co.uk (accessed August 20, 2007). 56. Roger Ebert, “Crash,” Chicago Sun-Times (May 5, 2005). Available from: http:// www.rogerebert.suntimes.com (accessed August 20, 2007). 57. Peter Bradshaw, “Crash,” The Guardian (August 12, 2005). Available from: http://www.guardian.co.uk (accessed August 20, 2007).

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chapter 7

Dream Worlds: Film-Game Franchising and Narrative Form Harry Brown

What is the Matrix? Control. The Matrix is a computer-generated dream world built to keep us under control. —The Matrix (1999) FROM ALAMOGORDO TO SAN FRANCISCO On June 11, 1982, Universal Pictures released Steven Spielberg’s E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, a story of friendship between a misfit boy and a benevolent alien stranded on Earth. The film charmed audiences, generating $11 million in its first weekend and more than $350 million in its first year. Ronald Reagan and Princess Diana cried when they saw the film, and the United Nations awarded Spielberg the Peace Medal for his work. Looking back on the film 20 years later, Roger Ebert writes, “This movie made my heart glad. It is filled with innocence, hope, and good cheer. . . . E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial is a movie like The Wizard of Oz, that you can grow up with and grow old with, and it won’t let you down. . . . E.T. is a reminder of what movies are for.”1 In July 1982, Warner Communications, the parent company of Atari, secured the rights to create an E.T. videogame for the Atari 2600 console. The

Parts of this chapter have been reprinted from my article, “Malleable Mythologies: Competing Strategies for Adapting Film Narrative to Video Games in Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings,” in Works and Days 22, nos. 1 and 2 © 2004, edited by Ken McAllister and Ryan Moeller, by permission of David Downing.

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deal promised a happy marriage between Hollywood and the burgeoning videogame industry. At the time, Atari led the games market, and by landing E.T. they acquired the hottest film license since Star Wars. Anticipating massive sales, Atari rushed to complete the game in time for the 1982 holiday season, manufacturing five million game cartridges, about one for every two Atari consoles owned in the United States. The game flopped spectacularly. Warner stock plummeted, and Atari claimed more than $500 million in losses in 1983. In September of that year, Atari buried tons of unsold merchandise in a landfill in Alamogordo, New Mexico, including almost four million E.T. cartridges. Within a year, Warner dismantled and sold Atari. Although employee dissatisfaction, inefficient distribution practices, and increasing competition with home computer games contributed to Atari’s crash, E.T. has come to signify the creative and commercial bankruptcy of the industry in 1983. On June 25, 2005, a long way from Alamogordo, George Lucas welcomed 2,000 guests to the gala opening of the Letterman Digital Arts Center (LDAC) in the Presidio of San Francisco, where Lucasfilm and its special effects and videogame divisions, Industrial Light and Magic (ILM), and LucasArts, had just moved into their new, shared headquarters. Lucas’s guests included California Senators Barbara Boxer and Dianne Feinstein, House Minority leader Nancy Pelosi, and four San Francisco mayors. The city’s most esteemed chefs prepared a buffet of gourmet fried chicken and stuffed vegetables, while Chris Isaak and Bonnie Raitt entertained the crowd. Joan Baez, also in attendance, surveyed the scene and reflected, “There’s something to be said for having a billion bucks.”2 Actually, the Letterman Digital Arts Center only cost $350 million. It covers 23 acres of the Presidio and stands on the site of the former Letterman Army Medical Center, demolished in 2001 to make way for the four main buildings of the LDAC. Located in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, the Lucasfilm campus is open to the public. While the buildings themselves are tightly secured, visitors may stroll, and gawk, and have their picture taken with the bronze statue of Yoda perched on the fountain at the entrance to the LDAC. Lucasfilm boasts that the new facility features “the largest computer network in the entertainment industry, a high-performance system designed to deliver large volumes of data and high-resolution images to artists’ desktops, encouraging interactive collaboration on the creation of synthetic scenes and characters. . . . Distance boundaries have been eliminated, and digital artists can collaborate internally throughout the campus, as well as with creators of entertainment anywhere in the world.”3 While the visual effects designers at ILM and the game designers at LucasArts sometimes collaborated prior to their consolidation, they did so in separate facilities, without the advantages of proximity and a shared database. Now they work in the same virtual

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studio. At an International Game Developers Association (IGDA) meeting in San Francisco in December 2005, Lucasfilm representatives explained, “Developers are now ‘right down the hall’ from each other, developing on the same code base, staffing projects with crew from both divisions, and tackling problems with the best techniques either side has to offer. It’s not just about sharing assets . . . we’re building a unified set of technology to produce both movies and games, and give both companies unique competitive advantages.”4 Lucasfilm’s press release announcing the opening of the LDAC echoes the millennial narrative of the Star Wars films. The triumphant alliance of Lucasfilm filmmakers and game designers heralds a “new vision” for the entertainment industry, in which the “seamless integration of entertainment technologies . . . represents a new way to work . . . [and] recognizes the convergence of movies, videogames, visual effects, animation, and online, and brings Lucasfilm to the forefront of that movement.”5 In more practical terms, the consolidation signals a more deliberate approach to media convergence. In 1982, when Warner bought the E.T. license and commissioned an adaptation for the Atari 2600, the videogame industry followed Hollywood’s lead, waiting for someone to make a blockbuster film and then buying the rights to the film. Lucasfilm now facilitates the simultaneous production films and games. In his keynote address at the 2005 Siggraph digital arts expo in Los Angeles, Lucas explained, “It used to be an assembly-line process: One person would do one thing, then the next person would do the next thing. But now, we’re going to push the envelope and get everybody to work simultaneously on the same thing.” Lucas calls this new production model “the future of entertainment.”6 Beyond Lucasfilm’s corporate proselytizing, what does all this talk about a “new vision” and the “future of entertainment” really mean? How has the relation between the film and videogame industries changed in the two decades between 1982, when the adaptation of E.T. to the Atari 2600 cost Warner a half a billion dollars, and 2005, when George Lucas has reconfigured his $15 billion empire in order to maximize the potential for film–game franchising? This chapter considers the influence of film–game franchising on the way artists create films and videogames, the way audiences consume them, and the way scholars interpret them. HOLLYWOOD AND THE VIDEOGAME INDUSTRY Videogame enthusiasts and media scholars often claim that games will overtake—or have already overtaken—film as the dominant entertainment medium. In a 2003 National Public Radio interview, New York Times Magazine writer Jonathan Dee hailed the ascendance of videogames, predicting, “I can see a future in which when the technology gets a little better . . . I would be hard-pressed to think of a reason why anyone would pay to go see, for

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instance, a new James Bond movie as opposed to playing the new James Bond game.”7 In a 2007 Gamasutra interview, game designer Denis Dyack made the more monumental claim that games are not only more sophisticated and popular than films but also nothing less than “the most advanced form of art thus far in human history,” in their synthesis of text, image, sound, video, and the active participation of the audience into a unified aesthetic experience.8 As film studios and game developers consolidate their interests, however, the traditional rivalry between film and game producers dissolves in corporate synergy, and the fortunes and creative interests of the two industries fall into harmony, as they have at Lucasfilm. Predictions of videogame supremacy like Dee’s and Dyack’s often ignore the fact that games and films share largely in each other’s commercial success. Videogame companies have grown rapidly, but they have not usurped movie studios as much as they have become viable subsidiaries capable of functioning in financial and creative concert not only with film but also with television, publishing, and sports entertainment. Consumers are not conflicted, as Dee imagines, by a choice between the new Bond movie and the new Bond game, but more likely will go see the movie and buy the game, with the sense that their experience of one is enhanced by the other. The future probably will not witness more games and fewer films but rather more games, more films, more games based on films, and more films based on games, with the integrated production and marketing of film–game franchises. In one of the most celebrated ventures in media convergence, Larry and Andy Wachowski, creators of The Matrix trilogy, produced the game Enter the Matrix (2003) simultaneously with the last two films of the trilogy, shooting scenes for the game on the movies’ sets with the movies’ actors, and releasing the game on May 15, 2003, the same day as The Matrix: Reloaded. Likewise, on September 21, 2004, Lucasfilm jointly released of a new DVD box set of the original Star Wars trilogy with Star Wars: Battlefront, a combat game in which players can reenact battles from all six Star Wars films. In 2005, Peter Jackson likewise produced his blockbuster film King Kong (2005) in tandem with a successful King Kong game designed by Michael Ancel and published by Ubisoft. In the last several years, numerous licensed videogame adaptations of major summer and holiday blockbusters were released a few days before or a few days after their respective films, including: all three Star Wars films (1999–2005); all five Harry Potter films (2001–2008); all three Spider-Man films (2002–2007); Hulk (2002); The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002); The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003); The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005); Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (2006); Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End (2007); and Transformers (2007). These multimedia franchises have made it more difficult to distinguish the production of films and videogames as separate enterprises.

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The LDAC is the first factory designed specifically to make film–game franchises. In the same press release announcing a “new vision” for the entertainment industry, Lucasfilm offers more specific “facts and figures” describing its technological infrastructure, which includes 10,000 gigabytes of storage, image and sound editing systems, a “render farm” for processing digital images, a media center for format conversion and duplication, a 300seat movie theater, and, most importantly, the largest data network in the industry with fiber optics connecting to every desktop computer to LDAC resources and to each other. In practical terms, images and visual effects created by ILM for the Star Wars films can be immediately appropriated and repurposed by game designers. Steve Sullivan, head of research and development at ILM, explains, “An example would be, ILM is doing a shot for a film, but LucasArts artists can have that exact same shot sitting on their desk, and they can start building a game environment around it.”9 LucasArts’ Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005), a game based closely on the film, marked the first time a Star Wars film shared specific image data with a Star Wars videogame. LucasArts designers have likewise contributed integrally to ILM. “Previsualization,” a form of animated storyboarding developed through the collaboration of ILM and LucasArts, has adapted game design tools to filmmaking. Sullivan describes previsualization as: a tool that directors would use to quickly mock up the ideas of a story and see what’s going to work. It’s really like building up a preview of a movie in a video game world. Instead of using static story boards, you can really just get in and create 3D content and camera moves directly. It’s the best example of the kind of collaboration we’ve got going on. It came from George [Lucas]—it didn’t come from either division. But it requires things that both divisions have expertise in.10

Lucas said at Siggraph, “Cinema is not the art of the image; it’s the art of the moving image.” Previsualization is not simply a faster or flashier way of planning a shot. Rather, it enables filmmakers, for the first time, to edit the interplay of image and motion in the earliest stages of production, to control more deliberately what eventually appears on screen even before shooting begins. Lucas cites Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones as the “first film to be completely shot digitally.”11 While he waits, somewhat frustrated, for Hollywood to catch up, he believes that digitization represents the future of cinema: We’re hoping that at some point the theaters will switch over to digital projection, and the filmmakers will start using the new digital cameras so that we as an industry can advance technically and make everything much easier. Right now, Sony, Panavision, Fujinon and a lot of other companies

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are investing tens of millions of dollars into this idea, and the industry isn’t backing it. . . . At some point, I know it will all happen.”12

He predicts that digitization will “democratize” the industry, enabling amateur filmmakers to shoot with a handheld camera purchased from a local Wal-Mart, edit on a desktop computer, and distribute and publicize their work on the Internet. On a more fundamental level, however, the reduction of cinema to image data means that films and videogames can be created with the same tools, as we already see in ILM’s use of previsualization. If, as Lucas predicts, “it will all happen,” then the relation between the two industries will move beyond licensed adaptations and franchises; they will, as they have in Lucasworld, merge into a single industry. STAR WARS, THE LORD OF THE RINGS, AND TRANSMEDIA STORYTELLING The development of previsualization technology and the franchising of blockbuster films and videogames suggest that the increasing collaboration between the two industries will influence the creation of films and games at every phase, from preproduction to postrelease publicity. The gradual digitization of filmmaking, moreover, will facilitate film–game franchising by giving filmmakers and game designers a common medium and toolset. But what kind of story will be produced by companies like Lucasfilm, equipped to produce films, games, and television shows simultaneously? In his adaptation of E.T. to the Atari 2600, designer Howard Scott Warshaw sought to capture the suspense and sentimentality of the film by creating an adventure game that simulated E.T.’s quest to “phone home.” Players, however, found the game slow and repetitive, with neither the emotional impact of the film, nor the engaging puzzles of earlier Atari adventure games like Adventure (1980) and Raiders of the Lost Ark (1982). Recent critics routinely cite Atari’s E.T. as the worst game ever made, attributing its aesthetic and commercial failure to Atari’s rush to ship the game before Christmas, but the game reveals a deeper theoretical uncertainty among game designers at the time about strategies for the adaptation of a story from one medium to another. As the first great failed attempt to convert a blockbuster film to a videogame, E.T. proved that a film’s popularity alone could not buoy a bad game. In the two decades following Atari’s bust, highly improved technology has, as we have seen, enabled designers to make their games look more cinematic. More importantly, filmmakers and game designers have learned from earlier failures and developed subtler and more calculated strategies for spinning stories across multiple media. In Convergence Culture (2006), Henry Jenkins describes The Matrix franchise as an “entertainment for the age of media convergence, integrating multiple texts to create a narrative so large that

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it cannot be contained within a single medium.” Jenkins observes that the Wachowskis “plant clues [in the films] that won’t make sense until we play the computer game. They draw on the back story revealed through a series of animated shorts, which need to be downloaded off the Web or watched off a separate DVD.” Jenkins calls this emergent narrative structure “transmedia storytelling”: In the ideal form . . . each medium does what it does best—so that a story might be introduced in a film, expanded through television, novels, and comics; its world might be explored through gameplay or experienced as an amusement park attraction. Each franchise entry needs to be self-contained so you don’t need to have seen the film to enjoy the game, and vice versa. Any given product is a point of entry into the franchise as a whole.

According to Jenkins, collaborative authorship and the process of “worldmaking” define these new narrative franchises. He quotes an experienced screenwriter, who says, “When I first started, you would pitch a story because without a story, you didn’t really have a film. Later, once sequels started to take off, you pitched a character because a good character could support multiple stories. And now, you pitch a world because a world can support multiple characters and multiple stories across multiple media.”13 Two television commercials, one produced by LucasArts to promote the game Star Wars: Bounty Hunter (2002), and the other produced by Electronic Arts (EA) to promote their adaptation of Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, provide sketches of two competing strategies for transmedia storytelling. LucasArts’ advertisement, released during the 2002 holiday shopping season, opens with an animated close-up of a snorkel poking from the surface of a swampy, extraterrestrial pool. As nervous breathing hisses from the tube, a gauntleted fist grips the snorkel and plugs the airway with a thumb. A gasping, bug-eyed alien springs to the surface to find that the obstructing thumb belongs to Jango Fett, the most ruthless bounty hunter in the galaxy. Jango seizes his quivering prey and in his gruff, mercenary’s voice, jokes, “Did you miss me?” The commercial represents another example of the collaboration between Lucasfilm special effects engineers and LucasArts game designers that Lucas hopes to maximize at the LDAC. Although created at ILM, we don’t find this scene in any of the Star Wars films. The game’s appeal, in fact, derives from its clear departure from the 2002 film Episode II: Attack of the Clones, in which Jango, the game’s hero, is a significant but nonetheless supporting character, who in the end is summarily beheaded by a Jedi light saber. The game narrative itself follows this strategy of departure from the film narrative, representing an interactive prequel to Attack of the Clones in its story of a secret bargain between Jango and the Sith Lord Count Dooku to create the clone army already in existence at the outset of the film.

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EA’s advertisement, released during the 2003 holiday season, represents a different strategy. As the commercial opens with the New Line Cinema and Wingnut Films logos set to the haunting soundtrack of The Lord of the Rings films, we expect to see yet another plug for the last film in Peter Jackson’s trilogy. In fact, as we watch the Nazgûl glide above Minas Tirith, the giant Oliphaunt thunder across the Pelennor Fields, and the stalwart fellowship of Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gandalf in pitched battles with armies of orcs, we see that we are not wrong; these are indeed tantalizing scenes from the upcoming film. But then something strange happens: The filmed scenes transform fluidly and subtly into the photorealistic digital animations for EA’s new game. In contrast to the Bounty Hunter commercial, the spot simultaneously advertises the movie and the game, which derives marketability from its nearly perfect mimicry of Jackson’s film. Like LucasArts’ game, EA’s The Return of the King correlates this advertising strategy with an interactive narrative strategy, which offers players the chance to participate in scenes involving environments, characters, and battle sequences reproduced from those seen in the film. The commercial concludes with the invitation, “Be the hero! Live the movie!” The two advertisements manifest fundamentally different narrative and marketing strategies. Bounty Hunter offers consumers something new, something unavailable in theaters, while The Return of the King offers consumers something familiar, a chance to interact with something they have seen or soon will see in theaters. At the 2004 Game Developers Convention, veteran game designer Warren Spector urged fellow designers to use film narrative as a way to “draw in the casual gamer, who’s used to having a story told to him in other entertainment mediums, particularly movies.”14 This strategy underlies game companies’ exorbitant spending on film licenses, which represents the acquisition of a guaranteed audience and the probable success of the game among the same crowds who pack the cineplexes. While both strategies have proven commercially successful, LucasArts’ creation of game narratives that extrapolate rather than mimic the film narratives more freely explores the possibilities of transmedia storytelling that intrigue Jenkins. EA’s mimetic approach in both The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002) and The Return of the King yields, on the other hand, missions that replicate action sequences from the films. In the first mission of The Two Towers, the player is Isildur in the midst of the ancient battle that first claimed the Ring of Power from a 17-foot, mail-clad Sauron. In the second mission the player becomes Aragorn defending the wounded Frodo from the Nazgûl on Weathertop Hill. Both scenes come from the first film of the trilogy, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. In the succeeding missions, adapted from The Two Towers, the player may choose to continue as Aragorn, Gimli, or Legolas, but, with the exception of a minor variance in the bonus missions, the choice of character has no bearing on the unfolding

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of the game narrative. As in the television commercial, animations and music in both The Two Towers and The Return of the King flow seamlessly into and out of sequences from the films, which are spliced into the game narrative. The game world has been designed directly from film sets, and actors from the film have been employed for animations and voiceovers, creating an overall play experience, as the advertisement indeed claims, in which one seems to “live the movie.” In many adaptations of the Star Wars films since the release of Episode I: The Phantom Menace in 1999, LucasArts has adopted an elaborative approach, in which multiple games, such as Jedi Starfighter (2002), Clone Wars (2002), and Bounty Hunter do not mimic the film narrative but rather follow independent narratives branching from the movie plots. Although familiar movie characters, in some cases, reappear in the LucasArts games, the games’ animations, soundtracks, settings, and narratives are original. In contrast to the mimetic The Lord of the Rings games, the game narratives situate themselves outside the established chronology of the Star Wars films, becoming, in effect, interactive prequels and sequels to the films.15 In a 2006 interview, LucasArts Project Lead Chris Williams said: We’re not in a space right now where we just want to be cranking out movie games. To the extent that we did that with the Episode III game, we’re kind of done with that. We want to be telling new stories, new experiences, and really taking advantage of the interactive medium. And not just rehashing or serving up a film experience in a sort of interactive way. We’re not sitting here right now waiting for ILM to come to us with some big film project so we can just crank out a movie game of it. The goal is use these tools, techniques, and knowledge to make a really exciting, innovative, next-gen product.16

At the same time, Star Wars games reinterpret scenes from the films in ways that are recognizable to the established Star Wars audience but are, nonetheless, new. In Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic (2003), a roleplaying game set four millennia before events depicted in the films, the player character liberates a comrade from slavery by winning a swoop bike race, a sequence that recalls The Phantom Menace, in which the young Anakin Skywalker must win his own emancipation in a pod race. In the same game, the central plot twist reveals that the player character, plagued by amnesia through more than half the game, finally discovers that he is a powerful Sith Lord thought to be dead and now psychologically reprogrammed by the Jedi Council to do good. The revelatory animation echoes Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (1980), in which Luke Skywalker, undergoing Jedi training with Yoda, beheads an apparition of Darth Vader only to discover his own face behind Vader’s mask. Finally, the closing animation of Knights of the Old Republic, in which an evil, celestial-sized superweapon is spectacularly destroyed

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and a battle-weary but joyous crowd celebrates the motley band of heroes, recalls the familiar ending of Episode IV: A New Hope (1977), in which the Death Star is annihilated, and Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and the faithful droids are given medals before a happy assembly of rebels. LucasArts has also adopted this strategy in its “Jedi Knight” series: Dark Forces (1995), Jedi Knight (1997), Jedi Outcast (2002), and Jedi Academy (2003). Each of these games represents a narrative sequel of the original Star Wars trilogy in which central characters from the films, such as Luke Skywalker, Boba Fett, and Lando Calrissian, recede to supporting characters, and new characters, unseen in the films, take center stage. Republic Commando (2005), likewise, is set during the Clone Wars of Episodes II and III, but abandons the perspective of the elite Jedi heroes in favor of that of the faceless grunts, who appear in the films only as laser fodder. In a March 2004 interview,17 Peter Morawiec spoke to Game Developer magazine about adapting genre fiction and film narratives to game design: As the videogame market matures, I believe it’s natural for the story-driven games to be crafted within established narrative genres. With the age of today’s average gamer pegged at something like 29, the audience welcomes greater thematic variety, as well as deeper and more mature storylines. I believe that people will instinctively want to play the same types of genres they like to watch or read. (12)

Morawiec describes his own game designs as interactive narratives that move forward: no matter how badly the player does, allowing even a total newbie to fumble his or her way through an entire storyline, without repeating missions or getting stuck. In a passive medium such as a movie, whenever the hero hits a low point mid-film, the story doesn’t restart; rather, the hero recovers or finds another way to go on. (12)

In terms of the interrelated strategies of designing and marketing film–game franchises, Morawiec’s proposed script-imperative game narratives coax a player-character along a relatively linear narrative path, limiting the “hybrid active-passive experience” in favor of replicating the traditional narrative structures of film. LucasArts has instead increased the potential of the player to participate actively within the mythic film–game universe, while sacrificing, perhaps, a measure of identification among the built-in film audiences. For those who do not come to the games by way of a primary interest in the films, LucasArts’ strategy explores the evolving possibilities of transmedia storytelling by giving the consumer, as Jenkins suggests, multiple points of entry into the franchise. While EA has created a game narrative more tailored to the massive audience of the Lord of the Rings films, a sort

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of interactive advertisement for the films, LucasArts has developed a true experiment in world-making that allows game companies to adapt multiple game titles from a single film and allows the player to participate more actively within an expanding film–game universe. EA has abandoned its mimetic approach in Everything or Nothing, a game that has gained critical favor as the first Bond game to offer a narrative independent of the Bond films. EA’s elaboration of the Bond franchise compared to its replication of The Lord of the Rings suggests that their strategy with The Two Towers and The Return of the King has been determined, at least in part, by the existing mythology first created by Tolkien’s novels. Because The Lord of the Rings games are third-tier adaptations—games based on films based on novels—and the Star Wars games are second-tier adaptations—games based on films—their respective designers have been bound by two different sets of rules. In a sense, Tolkien’s novels have been canonized as a kind of immutable sacred text, and fans of the novels undoubtedly represent an established audience for the films who must, on some level, be acknowledged. As Peter Jackson has often spoken of his faithful intentions toward Tolkien and Tolkien’s devotees, EA has similarly deferred to Jackson’s films in order to avoid the risk of alienating the audiences who purchase the games based on their love for the films or the books. Neil Young, who oversees EA’s Lord of the Rings franchise, explains, “I wanted to adapt Peter’s work for our medium in the same way that he has adapted Tolkien’s work for his.”18 One could not imagine Tolkien’s The Return of the King ending with Frodo and Sam impaled on the ramparts of the Black Gate and Sauron’s forces annihilating Gandalf and Aragorn and spreading eternal darkness over the World of Men. In The Lord of the Rings games, bound to some extent by the fixed narratives of Tolkien’s novels and Jackson’s films, such evil endings mean that the player has failed and must try again. Star Wars, on the other hand, is a more malleable mythology, and fans of Lucas’ films, who sustain a cottage industry of derivative serial novels and fan fiction, seem more receptive to manipulations of their canon. In Knights of the Old Republic, for instance, the player may choose to reject the good counsel of the Jedi, slaughter loyal friends, and claim the galaxy in the name of Dark Side. The player, in a sense, may choose to fail according to the ethical standards established by the films and yet succeed in the game. The Two Towers and The Return of the King offer the player no such choice. LucasArts seems to have evaded criticism by Star Wars purists by disengaging from the film narratives, by letting the movies stand as they are and creating instead alternate stories partially unbound by the expectations of their established audience. Nonetheless, in their varying experiments in bringing interactivity to Middle Earth and that long-ago, far, far away galaxy, EA and LucasArts have begun to create and to test these new modes of storytelling that have become possible in the wake of media convergence.

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MEDIA CONVERGENCE AND MEDIA CRITICISM In April 2008, LucasArts released Star Wars: The Force Unleashed, its first major “next-gen product” available for Xbox 360, Playstation 3, and Nintendo Wii. The game realizes both the technical and the narrative aspirations of Lucasfilm. Like Bounty Hunter and Knights of the Old Republic, the game narrative extends beyond the films and introduces new characters. Set 7 years after the events depicted in Revenge of the Sith and more than 10 years prior to the events depicted in A New Hope, The Force Unleashed casts the player as Darth Vader’s powerful apprentice, a figure who does not appear in the films. The game dramatizes the “dark times” in which the Jedi Knights are hunted to extinction and Darth Vader is fully transformed into a “Dark Lord of the Sith,” events only vaguely represented in the films. With a new game engine jointly developed by LucasArts and ILM, The Force Unleashed represents the latest fruit of the collaboration fostered at the LDAC. In his production diary, Project Lead W. Haden Blackman writes, “The groups within [ LDAC ] are separated by discipline, but nothing happens in isolation. . . . [ T ]he animation group bleeds into the design team, which is a stone’s throw away from the cinematics team, who takes their work and directs the characters and settings to perform the cutscene animation that propels the story.”19 With the considerable financial and technological resources of the film industry brought to bear on interactive entertainment, videogames such as The Force Unleashed will look more cinematic, as Blackman promises. With game design tools brought to bear on moviemaking, films will look faster and more kinetic. But, from a critical standpoint, will these games and films be better? Just as media convergence has transformed they way artists create films and games, both in the tools they use and in the stories they tell, it has also influenced the way critics and scholars evaluate and interpret films and games. Adopting film theory as a means of interpreting games, media scholars propose that what we see in film establishes precedents for what we see in games, in terms of both thematic content and visual perspective. Film critic Graham Leggat writes, “just about everything video games know about visual language and narrative was learned from the movies . . . from camera angles to cuts and dissolves, from the deployment of original music to mise-enscène.”20 Game scholar Mark J. P. Wolf likewise claims, “Theoretically, many of the same issues are present in video games and film: spectator positioning and suture, point of view, sound and image relations, semiotics, and other theories dealing with images of representation. . . . It is perhaps due to the desire to measure up to the standard of visual realism set by film and television that the video game evolved as it has.”21 Videogame evolution parallels cinematic evolution, for instance, in the construction of virtual spaces. Wolf

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compares the single, static frames of early games like Taito’s Space Invaders (1978) and Atari’s Missile Command (1980) to the early films of Lumière and Méliès, which maintain a static point of view and make no use of editing to link different locations. Scrolling games like Activision’s Pitfall! (1982) and Nintendo’s Super Mario Bros. (1985) correspond to the early development of panning and tracking. Early adventure games like Atari’s Adventure and E.T. simulate cutting and continuity editing through the use of distinct but contiguous game spaces. Finally, Wolf argues, the immersive three-dimensional environments of current games replicate the “space represented in classical Hollywood film . . . viewed from multiple angles and viewpoints.”22 At the same time, the potential for the player to act within these virtual environments makes game spaces essentially different from film spaces. Wolf explains, “Whereas the cinema offered a window and positioned the spectator within the world it depicted, the video game goes further, allowing the spectator to explore that world and take an active role in its events.”23 Our success in a game depends largely on our knowledge of the game space, and game narrative often unfolds in spatial terms, as we discover new stories in different areas of the game world. Unlike films, most games offer a map, a symbolic representation of the virtual environment that aids our navigation. In this sense, game space is twofold, containing a diegetic world as well as a metadiegetic schematization of that world. Perhaps most important, game spaces must offer the potential for free exploration and so must appear navigable and continuous. Alexander Galloway explains this essential difference between cinematic vision and “gamic vision”: Gamic vision requires fully rendered, actionable space. Traditional filmmaking almost never requires the construction of full spaces. Set designers and carpenters build only the portion of the set that will appear within the frame. Because a direct has complete control over what does appear within the frame, this task is easy to accomplish. The camera positions are known in advance. Once the film is complete, no new camera positions will ever be included. . . . By contrast, game design explicitly requires the construction of a complete space in advance that is then exhaustively explorable. . . . The camera position in many games is not restricted. The player is the one who controls the camera position, by looking, by moving, by scrolling, and so on.24

Peter Molyneux, creator of Black and White and Fable, calls the player “the best camera man because he knows what he wants to see,” but the challenge, he says, “is to allow people the flexibility to choose their own camera angles,” while maintaining visual and narrative coherence in the game.25 This notion of a “camera” and the ability to control it forms a crucial part of the visual language of videogames and, on a technical level, enables the

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synthesis of films and games envisioned by Lucasfilm. The first-person perspective that has become conventional in current games, following models like id Software’s Wolfenstein 3D (1992) and Cyan’s Myst (1993), has its origin in the “subjective shot” utilized in film. Galloway describes the subjective shot as “a rather extreme first person point-of-view shot, where the camera pans and tracks as if it were mounted on the neck of a character. . . . The viewer sees exactly what the character sees, as if the camera ‘eye’ were the same as the character ‘I.’ ”26 In films as in games, the subjective shot is marked by visual or sound effects that simulate the physical or psychological experience of the character: blurred or tinted vision to indicate injury, a binocular or magnified view to indicate peering through a lens or a scope, or panting and heaving to indicate fatigue. Citing familiar scenes from the films The Terminator (1984), Predator (1987), and The Silence of the Lambs (1991), Galloway notes that films most often use this specialized shot to represent “a sense of alienation, detachment, otherness, or fear . . . the vision of criminals, monsters, or killer machines.” Games, on the other hand, more commonly use the subjective shot not to represent marginalized consciousness but rather to “achieve an intuitive sense of affective motion,” to simulate being and acting within a virtual world. The subjective shot has become a keystone of game design in a variety of genres, including first-person shooters, role-playing games, and driving games. In fact, Galloway concludes, the subjective point of view “is so omnipresent and so central to the grammar [of videogames] . . . that it essentially becomes coterminous with it.”27 While games, according to Leggat, Wolf, and Galloway, are the progeny of cinema, in terms of both content and visual language, the aesthetics of game design have also begun to exert an influence on filmmaking as film becomes more digitized. Ridley Scott, who produced a series of live-action online short films in 2004 promoting the release of Atari’s DRIV3R, finds greater creative potential in games. Scott told the New York Times, “The idea that a world, the characters that inhabit it, and the stories those characters share can evolve with the audience’s participation and, perhaps, exist in a perpetual universe is indeed very exciting to me.”28 Leggat compares the fight choreography in the Matrix and Kill Bill films to the wild moves performed in fighting games, and Galloway calls attention to the “bullet time” sequence in The Matrix, where time slows and Neo impossibly dodges a hail of gunfire, as “a brief moment of gamic cinema, a brief moment where the aesthetic of gaming moves in and takes over the film.”29 The interactive nature of game narrative that intrigues Scott has also prompted more independent filmmakers to reconsider the ways a story can be told on film. Tom Tykwer’s film Run Lola Run (1999), for instance, portrays a young woman trying to aid her desperate boyfriend as he rushes to repay a debt to a crime boss. Even with its chic rapid-fire editing and

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animation sequences, Run Lola Run looks like a standard caper film until Lola, surprisingly, is shot dead about 20 minutes into the action. Rather than accept this outcome, however, she simply opens her eyes and says, “No,” transporting herself back in time as if restarting the game, which she replays twice throughout the film until she achieves the desired ending. Run Lola Run reveals that interactivity has begun to destabilize the way filmmakers view their craft, even at the fundamental level of narrative structure. Tykwer’s film in not nonlinear but multilinear, like a game that a player can complete or fail to complete in any number of ways. For some critics, however, media convergence, particularly this increasingly visible influence of videogames on cinema, signals an aesthetic and intellectual corruption. In a survey of films about the Second World War, film critic David Thomson calls Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor (2001), “not just a colossal bore, but a defamation of popular history that leaves you in despair of the cinema.”30 Thomson believes that videogames have obscured filmmakers’ and audiences’ understanding of the complexity of history and the reality of violence. He writes: It’s what you get when the kids in the audience and the kids in charge have spent two decades playing video combat games. . . . Virtually every set-up [in Pearl Harbor] puts the camera in the best position not just to see the explosion but to be it. The essential Bay shot is the POV from the bomb that falls on the Arizona; it has all the gravitational zest, and the denial of damage or tragedy, that’s built into the trigger-jerking spasms of video games.31

For Thomson, gamic vision in films does not signify the exciting potential of media convergence but rather reduces cinematic art and marks a shallow fascination with the hyperactive images of violent action rather than a critical exploration of the causes or consequences of such action. Although fans of Star Wars and The Matrix might accuse Thomson of being old-fashioned, Thomson rightly observes that films, when they try to copy games, often look silly. Even as The Chronicles of Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay (2004) proves that good games can be made from bad films, and EA’s The Godfather: The Game (2006) proves that good games can be made from good films, Hollywood has not yet discovered a way to make a good film from a good game. Early attempts to do so have been ridiculous or merely forgettable, including Super Mario Bros. (1993), Street Fighter (1994), and Mortal Kombat (1995). Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (2001), rendered entirely in CGI, lost more than $120 million and bankrupted Square Pictures. Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001), Resident Evil (2002), and Silent Hill (2006), have done well at the box office but utterly disappointed film critics with their glossy violence, inane dialogue, and shallow characterization. In other words, they seem too game-like.

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Jenkins compares current videogames, with all their flaws, to the cinema of the early twentieth century, an art form still in a stage of rapid technical development and radical experimentation, still awaiting coherent theories and critical approaches, and still lacking a tradition or a canon. Videogames, Jenkins believes, have almost unbounded commercial and artistic potential, but they need time to grow up.32 Leggat similarly describes the relation between games and film as Oedipal: “cinema’s scrappy stepchild, the game world is . . . constantly competing with an idealized, phantasmic father for the love and attention of the mass market, yet never truly believing that it enjoys or deserves it.”33 The most spectacular failures in film–game franchising, from Atari’s E.T. to Square’s Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, occur when filmmakers attempt to replicate the grammar of videogames in films or game designers attempt to replicate the grammar of films. In a review of Jackson’s The Return of the King, film critic Anthony Lane writes, “As I watched the film, an eager victim of its boundless will to astound, I found my loyal memories to the book beginning to fade. It may be time to halt the endless comparisons between page and screen, and to confess that the two are very different beasts.”34 As the fusion of the film and game industries continues and transmedia franchises emerge, designers of film-based games must similarly acknowledge that games and films, despite their convergence, are also two very different beasts. Though some may try to make games that play like films, or movies that play like games, we find that the narrative forms governing one genre do not quite fit the other. Like the Matrix itself, transmedia narrative is a new sort of beast born in the age of convergence, an expansive and perpetually expanding simulated dream world constructed not so much to control as to entertain. In choosing the blue pill, however, we submit to both. NOTES 1. Roger Ebert, “E.T. the Extraterrestrial,” rogerebert.com, March 22, 2002, http:// rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20020322/REVIEWS/ 203220304/1023. 2. Dan Levy, “Lucas’ Presidio premiere,” San Francisco Chronicle, June 26, 2005, http:// www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2005/06/26/BAGTQDF4RU1.DTL. 3. Lucasfilm, Ltd., “Letterman Digital Arts Center: A New Vision for the Digital Arts,” June 24, 2005, http://www.lucasfilm.com/press/presidiopreview/index.html?page=2. 4. Eric-Jon Rössel Waugh, “Worlds Are Colliding!: The Convergence of Film and Games,” Gamasutra, December 12, 2005, http://www.gamasutra.com/features/2005 1212/waugh_01.shtml. 5. Lucasfilm, Ltd., “Letterman Digital Arts Center.” 6. George Lucas, “Future of Entertainment,” Hollywood Reporter, September 13, 2005, http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/search/article_display.jsp?vnu_con tent_id=1001096310.

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7. WNYC Radio, “Joystick Nation,” On the Media, December 19, 2003, http://www. onthemedia.org/yore/transcripts/transcripts_121903_joystick.html. 8. Bryan Ochalla, “Are Games Art? (Here We Go Again . . . ),” Gamasutra, March 16, 2007, http://gamasutra.com/features/20070316/ochalla_01.shtml. 9. “The New Force at Lucasfilm,” BusinessWeek, March 27, 2006, http://www.busi nessweek.com/innovate/content/mar2006/id20060327_719255.htm. 10. “The New Force at Lucasfilm.” 11. Lucas, “Future of Entertainment.” 12. Lucas, “Future of Entertainment.” 13. Henry Jenkins, Convergence Culture (New York: New York University Press, 2006), 94–96, 114. 14. Tom McNamara, “GDC 2004: Warren Spector Talks Game Narrative,” IGN. com, March 26, 2004, http://pc.ign.com/articles/502/502382p1.html. 15. LucasArts, however, adopted a mimetic strategy in Star Wars: Battlefront (2004), Battlefront II (2005), and Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005). Like The Two Towers, Revenge of the Sith incorporated scenes from the film in the game. 16. “The New Force at Lucasfilm.” 17. Jamil Modelina, “Hard-Boiled Developer: Luxoflux’s Peter Morawiec on Bringing Classic Story Genres to Life,” Game Developer, March 2004. 18. Jenkins, Convergence Culture, 107. 19. W. Haden Blackman, “Collaborative Connections: Teamwork Unleashed,” May 1, 2007, http://www.lucasarts.com/games/theforceunleashed/#/diary/. 20. Graham Leggat, “Chip Off the Old Block,” Film Comment 40 (2004): 29. 21. Mark J. P. Wolf, “Inventing Space: Toward a Taxonomy of On- and Off-Screen Space in Video Games,” Film Quarterly 51, no. 1 (1997): 11–12. 22. Wolf, “Inventing Space,” 20. 23. Wolf, “Inventing Space,” 22. 24. Alexander Galloway, Gaming: Essays on Algorithmic Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006), 63–64. 25. MIT Program in Comparative and Media Studies, Computer and Video Games Come of Age, “The Future of Games,” http://web.mit.edu/cms/games/future.html. 26. Galloway, Gaming, 40. 27. Galloway, Gaming, 56, 59, 63. 28. Laura M. Holson, “Out of Hollywood, Rising Fascination with Video Games,” New York Times, April 10, 2004, http://www.nytimes.com/2004/04/10/technology/ 10GAME/html. 29. Galloway, Gaming, 67. 30. David Thomson, “Zap happy: World War II revisited,” Sight & Sound 11, no. 7 (2001): 35. 31. Thomson, “Zap happy,” 35. 32. Henry Jenkins, “Games, the New Lively Art,” in Handbook of Computer Game Studies, ed. Jeffrey Goldstein and Joost Raessens (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2005), 175–92. 33. Leggat, “Chip Off the Old Block,” 29. 34. Anthony Lane, “Creating Monsters,” The New Yorker, May 24, 2004, 97.

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chapter 8

Co-Opting “Independence”: Hollywood’s Marketing Label Mary P. Erickson

Four of the five films competing for Best Picture at the 2006 Academy Awards were unique in that a good portion of each film’s financing derived from nonstudio investment sources. For example, Minneapolis-based River Road Productions partnered in the production of Brokeback Mountain (Ang Lee, 2005), requesting international distribution rights in exchange for its investment. This $14 million film premiered at film festivals in Venice, Telluride, and Toronto before heading into theaters in the United States and internationally. This investment secured a substantial return for the film’s producers and distributors, which also included Universal Studios’ division, Focus Features; Brokeback Mountain garnered a respectable $83 million at the domestic box office.1 In addition, the film received several awards, including three Oscars, four Golden Globes, and two Independent Spirit awards. Brokeback Mountain was joined in the race for Best Picture by Good Night, and Good Luck (George Clooney, 2005); Capote (Bennett Miller, 2005); Crash (Paul Haggis, 2004); and Munich (Steven Spielberg, 2005). Much of the publicity leading up to the awards ceremony focused on these films’ production financing because most of them were “substantially produced outside the studio system.”2 Each of the films, with the exception of Crash, was also substantially produced inside the studio system: United Artists (a division of MGM at the time of the film’s production) produced Capote, Warner Independent Pictures (a division of Warner Brothers) produced Good Night, and DreamWorks and Universal Pictures produced Munich. Article after article in the press touted these films (with the exception of Munich) as “independent,” their reliance on

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nonstudio financing an anomaly for films leading the Oscar race. But this “independence,” and the corollary primacy of nonstudio financing, is misleading because it does not account for the infrastructure that accompanies the film’s studio-based financing. As Hollywood producer Avi Lerner declares: No one can disagree that when you’ve got Crash having this kind of success, it’s good for independent film. That’s a true independent film. I consider Lionsgate [Crash’s distributor] a real independent company. But Brokeback Mountain? No way. It was released by a studio with all the machinery and money and people of a major studio—the same people who released Munich. The same people who released King Kong. No, Brokeback Mountain was not an independent film. An independent film is a movie that was really made by independent people, independent producers, not by Focus. The producer of Brokeback Mountain was James Schamus, the head of a specialty studio.3

Specialty divisions such as Focus Features increasingly rely on the concept of “independent” to describe and promote their films, as these films tend not to resemble studio blockbusters in style, plot, or character. But Focus Features still, as Lerner asserts, offers the distribution infrastructure of its parent studio, giving its films more support in publicity and promotion. This becomes particularly problematic for independent filmmakers who do not have investment relationships with specialty divisions. These people are thus forced to compete for the same audiences through the same press outlets and the same distribution and exhibition channels without similar resources. The flood of so-called “independent” films that have originated at studio divisions saturates the marketplace, which in turn shapes the public’s expectations of what independent film looks like as well as the perception of diversity of filmmakers and film content available in theaters and on home video. Independent filmmaking occupies a spot in American cinema as the obvious alternative to mainstream Hollywood fare, but audience preferences that seem to shift away from blockbusters lately have troubled studios who rely on hundreds of millions of box office dollars for every film. The development of new distribution windows such as the Internet has allowed independent filmmakers to gain more direct access to audiences. With declining box office revenues and audiences turning toward newer technology to watch films, Hollywood has found itself in a troublesome financial spot.4 While studios continue to focus on producing tried-and-true formulaic films (witness the release of several sequels in 2007, from Spider-Man 3 [Sam Raimi, 2007] to Shrek the Third [Chris Miller and Raman Hui, 2007] to Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End [Gore Verbinski, 2007]), they have also ventured more actively into genres, subject matter or aesthetics not traditionally found in Hollywood films. Because these studios, operating as specialty divisions such as Focus Features, can utilize the production and distribution infrastructure

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of a major studio (in this case, Universal Studios), marketing efforts are much more coordinated, encompassing, and forceful than the marketing efforts of a singular filmmaker or even smaller-scale distribution company that operates outside of the studio system. Hollywood carefully crafts film marketing, spending extravagantly to achieve its marketing goals. Major studios spend approximately $34.5 million on prints and advertising (P&A), or a full third of a film’s budget, while specialty divisions of major studios spend an average of $17.8 million on P&A per film (although this number is more variable based on the wide range of “independent” film budgets).5 Even with smaller budgets, such as Brokeback Mountain’s $14 million, investors expect returns to make their contributions worthwhile, and thus, specialty divisions focus on the most attractive angles to ensure high levels of box office and home video revenue.6 We can witness various instances, particularly lately, of specialty divisions marketing films by using the concept of independence as the primary selling point. Therefore, the question becomes this: How do specialty divisions exploit the concept of independence in film publicity? By examining the marketing campaigns of films such as Little Miss Sunshine (Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, 2006), Sideways (Alexander Payne, 2004), Garden State (Zach Braff, 2004), and Good Night, and Good Luck (George Clooney, 2005), we can find similarities in the usage of “independent” as a marketing label. This has significant implications for independent filmmakers who are not affiliated with major studios, as their primary methods of marketing are co-opted by Hollywood. As we shall see later, these filmmakers must then develop new methods of marketing to reach audiences. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INDEPENDENT AND “INDEPENDENT” A definition of independent film is difficult to pinpoint because it can hinge on aesthetics, subject matter, budget, actors, director, or any number of other factors. The label of independent film typically connotes certain aesthetics or social themes, or what Holmlund calls “a distinctive visual look, an unusual narrative pattern, a self-reflexive style.”7 Many scholarly accounts of independent film reflect on past eras, documenting the industry’s history as eras distinct from the independent film era of today. Greg Merritt writes a thorough biography of independent film, beginning with the early days of cinema, and Peter Biskind formulates his history around the rise of Miramax and the Sundance Film Festival.8 Others try to understand independent film through an examination of what are often considered the “founding fathers” of the contemporary canon, including, among other films, Stranger Than Paradise (Jim Jarmusch, 1984); sex, lies and videotape (Steven Soderbergh, 1989); Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino, 1992); and Clerks (Kevin Smith, 1994).9

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Many accounts speculate on the present-day status of independent film but surprisingly often fail to expand beyond superficial musings on the blurring lines between Hollywood and independent studios. Independent films are typically made outside the Hollywood studio system and are often products of creative devotion, a luxury not afforded within the confines of a tightly managed studio production. The lines quickly start to blur when we try to pin down a definition because high-profile actors may star in nonstudio films, $50,000 and $15 million film budgets are classified together, and art house cinemas may screen Woody Allen’s latest alongside a local filmmaker’s production. Even applying the limitation of making films outside the Hollywood studio system is problematic; is it fair to say that George Lucas’ Star Wars prequels were independent? They were, after all, made outside the standard Hollywood studio system, produced instead by Lucasfilm; however, the trilogy’s budget stood at roughly $350 million, hardly the scale of budget associated with independent films. The central problem lies with ownership. Hollywood is generally divided into six major film studios: Warner Brothers, Disney, Paramount Pictures, Sony Pictures, Universal Pictures, and 20th Century Fox; these studios control an estimated 94 percent of the domestic box office gross.10 Each of these is part of a globally diversified media conglomerate that operates myriad business divisions (Time Warner, for example, owns Warner Brothers, its main film studio, in addition to a cable television system, multiple cable television channels, and Internet service provider America Online; it also publishes approximately 130 magazines and employs roughly 96,000 people worldwide).11 Each of these major studios owns at least one “specialty” studio arm, such as Miramax (Disney), Warner Independent Pictures (Warner Brothers), and the newly formed Paramount Vantage to accompany Paramount Classics (Paramount Pictures); these specialty studios handle both production and distribution of nonmainstream films. Hollywood studios have managed their specialty, “independent” divisions for many years now, most of them having been started or acquired in the mid-1990s. Others have more recently evolved to represent the changing independent film landscape. New Line Cinema, a specialty division acquired by Turner Broadcasting in 1994 (acquired by Time Warner two years later), had its own specialty division, Fine Line. In 2003, Fine Line folded into the streamlined Warner Independent Pictures, in order to “provide an outlet where artists can express their vision, where ideas and controversies can be aired, where new talent can grow, where new styles and techniques can develop, where the conventional wisdom of tomorrow can first take shape.”12 In a sense, one could say that Warner Independent is providing the educational ground through which to develop strategies for thinking about independent film within its own structures; it defines who those artists are, what ideas are aired, and how new styles develop, all within the objective of profit-making. After all, Warner

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Independent is designed to “fill a niche in what is otherwise a fully integrated, broad-based global entertainment company.”13 It is significant that Warner Independent executives see the studio as fitting into a global and undoubtedly mainstream company, rather than as an alternative to it. This is contrary to the very definition of an “independent” company. The fact that many of these specialty divisions are called “independent” proves problematic when we acknowledge their corporate parentage. Alisa Perren argues that My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Joel Zwick, 2002) was misrepresented in its publicity and promotion as an independent film. Actors Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson took the film’s concept (based on a stage version) to HBO, enlisting the Time Warner–owned cable channel’s financial support in exchange for distribution rights (foreign, cable, and video).14 Wellconnected Hollywood individuals, in this case, helped clear obstacles that the film might have otherwise faced in securing distribution, and distribution guarantees a certain level of expenditures to promote the film; after all, the distribution company wants to recoup its investment. With Hanks, Wilson, HBO, and others backing the production of Wedding and guaranteeing its distribution, therefore, Perren does not classify the film as independent. It becomes obvious that major studios use “independent” as a label or brand for, as King writes, “association with ‘quality’, arty, edgy or ‘cool’/ alternative features is good for the image,” particularly for those “individual executives with pretensions to something more than noisy blockbuster productions and [those] branches of large corporations often subject to criticism for their business practices and much of their not-so-creative output.”15 But corporations use the label of “independent” to legitimize themselves by emphasizing their dedication to the art of filmmaking, and often the link between specialty division and parent company is less than obvious. While we know that Warner Brothers own Warner Independent Pictures, it may be less apparent that Universal owns Focus Features. Focus Features can more easily represent itself as a truly independent film company, not a subsidiary of a major corporation, simply because of a difference in name. Tzioumakis has offered one of the most thorough and unflinching examinations of the intersection and interconnection between independent and mainstream film. He observes the push and pull of production and distribution practices that independents use, mainstreams co-opt, and independents then eschew for new practices. Tzioumakis tackles the conundrum of defining independent film by stating that the term is in fact “a discourse that expands and contracts when socially authorized institutions (filmmakers, industry practitioners, trade publications, academics, film critics, and so on) contribute to its definition at different periods in the history of American cinema.”16 Tzioumakis strips away the weight of “independent” as a definitional term by noting how it becomes situated in language and marketing in order to serve power relations.

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This linkage between power and the use of independent as a term is essential for understanding how it is used for marketing purposes in film today. Tzioumakis notes that the film industry trade publication Variety declares “indie” as a descriptor to have “lost much of its rugged appeal.”17 However, it is still used because it does carry weight. As non-Hollywood filmmakers continue to carve out spots for themselves in production, distribution, and exhibition practices, they continue to draw audiences over which Hollywood would rather take hold. Films such as The Blair Witch Project and The Passion of the Christ startled the major studios with their box office earnings of $140 million and $370 million, respectively. The innovative and groundbreaking distribution practices associated with these films, such as Blair Witch’s online presence and The Passion’s outreach to religious communities, signal that audiences are drawn to films that challenge popular notions of filmmaking and film distribution. Film distribution is, according to Wasser, the central location for maintaining power—it is in this stage of the filmmaking process that a film moves from the filmmaker or studio to the audience.18 Distributors retain allocative control, or the allocation of resources. It is here that marketing dollars are spent and decisions are made as to who sees the film and who does not. Drawing a line between independent and nonindependent film is difficult when we conceive of “independent” as a discourse of power, as it does not lend itself to clear distinctions that apply to every single case. We can say, though, that “independent” as a label is being used in the cases being discussed here because media conglomerate subsidiaries aim to secure audiences wherever they exist. Hollywood has relied on blockbuster films to bring in astronomical revenues in ever-increasing numbers of theaters. While some films have been successful (Spider-Man 3, for example, opened on 4,252 screens to garner $151.2 million in the United States alone in May 2007),19 many other blockbuster films have not. King Kong (Peter Jackson, 2005), Universal Studios’ remake of the 1933 film, was expected to tackle Titanic’s (James Cameron, 1997) ranking on the all-time top box office revenue chart; instead, it stalled at a paltry Number 51, just after Mrs. Doubtfire (Chris Columbus, 1993).20 Studio executives have tried to pin blame on any number of factors, including “DVDs, video games, iPods, cellular phones, HBO, crying babies, $10 tickets, Chinese pirates, big screen plasma TVs, an aging demographic, liberal bias, video-on-demand, annoying pre-feature commercials and the Bush administration’s energy policy.”21 No matter the reason, the fact remains that theatrical releases are stagnating.22 One factor that remains constant about the Hollywood movie marketing strategy is that “if you only get one demographic into the theater, you can only achieve a certain level of success.”23 Therefore, there is a continual effort to maximize revenue streams by expanding the types of films produced and distributed by Hollywood studios so that no matter the audience preference, Hollywood supplies it.

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This is not a new phenomenon, as we can witness various periods in cinema’s history when “independent” has been co-opted by major studios and filmmakers. Howard Hughes with Hell’s Angels (1930) and David O. Selznick with Gone With the Wind (1939) both used the concept of independence to differentiate their films from the “sausage factory” films of Hollywood.24 Studios turned to art house fare in the 1960s, not only co-opting “independent” as a label, but also controlling the distribution of foreign films. Often laden with sexual themes generally forbidden by the American industry’s Production Code (the precursor to the modern ratings system), these films were “attracting customers and the majors wanted a part of the business.”25 Then, beginning in the mid-1990s, the mainstream American film industry started to institutionalize “independent” as a marketing label by overtaking those studios that were truly independent of the mainstream system and that posed the greatest threat to Hollywood dominance over alternative film supply. It wasn’t long before “independent” came to signify formulaic elements that could be predictably located and exploited for marketing purposes; the resulting climate of film publicity is likely forcing changes in truly independent film distribution. FILM MARKETING STRATEGIES Despite its centrality in the film distribution process, film marketing is not often covered in film literature. Yet, it is vitally important to understand because it is the most direct and overt method through which major studios try to wield control. As mentioned earlier, distributors plan to add 30 percent or more to the film’s overall budget for P&A expenses, and thus, the marketing campaign is carefully mapped out. In her study of marketing campaigns for films such as Four Weddings and a Funeral (Mike Newell, 1994), GoldenEye (Martin Campbell, 1995), and Welcome to the Dollhouse (Todd Solondz, 1995), Tiiu Lukk writes that a film’s marketing potential impacts the very production of a film.26 Often, major studios use content models to mitigate risk of investment, utilizing previously successful genres, star actors, and sequels, or what Justin Wyatt terms “high concept” factors, to ensure box office success, and those elements that are untested or have been unsuccessful in the past are less likely to appear onscreen.27 Typically associated with blockbusters, high concept factors can now be revised and extended to “independent” films. The marketing strategy for a Hollywood film is carefully constructed because “each film in theatrical release is a new product that needs to be explained, positioned, and promoted to consumers on its way to that short and fragile shelf life.”28 This strategy is a multifaceted operation, with paid advertising in print, television, radio, and other media; publicity by way of critics’ reviews and feature stories; promotional events; merchandising and cross-promotions; and various other tactics. In marketing smaller-budgeted,

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“independent” films, studios emphasize certain tactics over others. Publicity and advertising are likely the most oft-used tactics. A Miramax studio executive claims, “If you say a film is great enough times and can back it up with some footage, the press will begin to believe it,” which can have a significant impact on audience choice.29 Marich notes that studios often use familiar elements like stars or genre for film marketing hooks because each film is its own unique product. Rather than starting from scratch every time, marketers position films in relation to those tried-and-true products that have been released in the past. Independent films represent an interesting case study in film marketing strategy because they often do not contain those familiar elements like major studio releases do. But independent films do contain their own sorts of familiar elements that are used to position a given film in relation to other successful films. These elements work in tandem to foreground the film’s very independence; some of these elements include the film’s Web site, publicity strategies to frame the film as independent (for example, a newcomer in the starring role or a novice director), and festival appearances. MARKETING “INDEPENDENCE” The films examined in this study were selected from a list of all films, excluding foreign films, distributed to U.S. theaters by the six major studios’ top independent divisions from 2004 to 2006.30 These film divisions are those that self-identify as “independent” studios; for example, Fox Searchlight calls itself “Hollywood’s premiere indie movie studio,” while Miramax Films declares itself to be “return[ing] to its roots as a top provider of quality independent and modestly budgeted films from outstanding filmmakers.”31 Various elements of films’ marketing campaigns were examined, including: framing of actors, directors, and storylines in the media; the films’ release strategy, with particular attention to festival and theatrical platform release; and attention to certain coveted awards. Focusing on a few select films, including Little Miss Sunshine, Garden State, Sideways, and Good Night, and Good Luck, highlights how each of these elements is manipulated for marketing purposes; these films are some of the more visible “independent” films of the past few years because they have received more marketing attention. As Globe and Mail film reviewer Johanna Schneller tells us, the logic goes that “nominations [for high-profile awards] make money” because theatrical and ancillary (home video and DVD) sales rise when a film is in the running for top awards.32 When a film can promise a nomination (and preferably multiple nominations), the distributor will pour money into its marketing: “[It costs] tens of millions to send out screeners to the 6,000 academy members, place ‘For Your Consideration’ ads in the trades, and fly the casts around the chat-show circuit.”33 Those films that

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cannot promise much in the way of additional revenue that spurt from nominations do not receive extra marketing efforts. Little Miss Sunshine, Garden State, Sideways, and Good Night, and Good Luck have all presumably received a good dose of marketing dollars and therefore present valuable case studies in analyzing how specialty divisions market films using elements such as specific types of actors and directors, quirky or thoughtful storylines, festival and theatrical platform releases, and certain coveted awards. Storylines Films classified as “independent” tend to feature unconventional stories that operate outside the mainstream fare. Stories become offbeat, quirky, and artsy, positioned to alert the audience that the film might not contain the typical Hollywood cinematic experience. The films are also often labeled as quaint, charming, or endearing, as though they are the sweet but overly eccentric aunts of whom families are somewhat embarrassed. These key phrases are synonymous with independent films because they signal refreshing stories and interesting characters that defy cookie-cutter replication. Garden State follows the story of a young man who returns home to attend his mother’s funeral after a long estrangement from his family. The film is consistently described in terms of its off-kilter storyline: it is a “quirkywith-a-capital-Q romantic comedy” with an “undeniably charming script.”34 Sideways, in which a pair of friends travel the southern Californian wine country in celebration of one of the friend’s impending marriage, is labeled in the press as an “offbeat gem,” its characters’ friendship filled with “quirky complexity.”35 In Little Miss Sunshine, a family takes a road trip to a child beauty pageant, tackling subjects such as homosexuality, suicide, and drug use, along with family dysfunction. A “silly yet endearing story,” Little Miss Sunshine is filled with “studied wackiness” and is classified as a “quirky family road picture.”36 “Independent” films may also explore edgy or alternative subject matter, as was the case with Good Night, and Good Luck, which is a retelling of journalist Edward R. Murrow’s confrontations with Senator Joseph McCarthy in the early days of television. Some critics have observed a shift to more authenticity and honesty in storytelling, although many confess that this storytelling runs contrary to the average moviegoer’s preference.37 New York Times critic A. O. Scott predicts that “most of the discussion of [Good Night, and Good Luck] will turn on its content—on the history it investigates and on its present-day resonance,” as it is a timely critique of modern-day journalism framed within a moment of historical crisis of the McCarthy era.38 “The delivery isn’t as important as the message,” writes Steve Persall of the St. Petersburg Times. “Maybe that’s Clooney’s agenda: to make us consider the meat rather than the sizzle.”39

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Directors An oft-used strategy of marketing “independent” films is to highlight the novice director, an aspiring filmmaker looking to make his or her mark in the world of cinema. According to Tiiu Lukk, “These are people that bring a certain rawness and newness to their storytelling style, because they’re not polished, slick Hollywood film or TV commercial directors.”40 The case of Zach Braff aptly illustrates this tactic. Braff, who has starred in the NBC sitcom Scrubs since 2001, leapt onto the independent film scene in 2004 with Garden State. In interviews, Braff was depicted as the amateur whose success came about from sheer luck and a dash of persistence. “I feel like I’ve won the independent film lottery,” he mused.41 It was a Cinderella story of sorts hammered home through promotional angles that made Braff accessible to audiences as the average Joe who made good. He traveled across the country on a publicity tour, during which he held question-and-answer sessions after film screenings.42 He also wrote a blog on the Garden State Web site, a personal diary of sorts, in which he related random details of his life (e.g., “I had this twisted nightmare once where I was dating a really bitchy Clydesdale who played drums in a wedding band.”) that helped audiences get to know Braff as an average citizen.43 “With this blog,” he said, “I thought ‘I’m just going to talk to my audience like I would with a friend.’ ”44 Readers of his blog were enamored with his down-to-earth style, which served to further legitimize Braff as an independent filmmaker who has not lost sight of his roots. “They say, ‘I don’t believe you’re writing this, it’s crazy you’re writing this, you seem too real, this must be your assistant.’ ” One gets the impression from Braff ’s interviews that he hardly believed it either; he is “endearingly wide-eyed about his current status.”45 The directorship duo, Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, cut their teeth on Little Miss Sunshine. Their previous experience resided with directing music videos for the Red Hot Chili Peppers, REM, Smashing Pumpkins, and others. In much of the publicity around the film, the novice status of these directors contributes to the film’s freshness and integrity. As producer Marc Turtletaub attested, “Thankfully, we had John and Val who are two directors who have no background, hadn’t made a feature-length film, and they said ‘No, this is what we want to make’ and they stuck with that.”46 These “babes in the woods” with “virgin exposure” to Hollywood made for a steep learning curve, but their efforts were rewarded with positive feedback from critics. “What’s even more amazing is that this is the first feature from husband-andwife directors,” exclaims Christie Lemire of MSNBC. “They’ve come up with no stereotypes, no self-consciously quirky indie-movie clichés.”47 Having only directed one other film, George Clooney, director of Good Night, and Good Luck, could have been positioned as a novice director. However, his acting reputation precludes the marketing campaign from focusing

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on his inexperience in a similar way to Zach Braff or Little Miss Sunshine’s directors. Rather, the subject matter of his film compels film reviewers and feature writers to frame him as operating outside the studio system, the mark of an independent filmmaker. “You’ve got to stick with your convictions,” he says in an interview. “Do what you want to do and hope that it strikes a chord.”48 Because he has taken risks, one film critic labeled him as the “indieSpielberg,” his commitment to Good Night, and Good Luck so strong that “he famously accepted only $1 for producing, directing and writing.”49

Actors Actors are probably the most visible and recognizable marketing element of a film. Unknown or unpopular actors are considered to be a handicap to a film’s success, but they are in fact becoming more integral to the legitimacy of independent films. They are logistically essential to most independent films simply because budgets cannot afford expensive stars. But they are essential as well because they are exploited as a shrewd marketing angle. The stars in Little Miss Sunshine and Sideways in particular, while generally known, are not A-list actors able to command high salaries for their participation in projects. Indeed, those most recognized for acting ability are unlikely to be among the most well-paid actors in Hollywood.50 Rather, these stars take risky roles and explore the craft of acting with dignity and style. Because “independent” films are typically character-driven, the actors portraying those characters make or break a film; therefore, publicity around a film’s actors highlight their excellence. Little Miss Sunshine boasts an ensemble cast, and the contribution of each actor relays a stellar performance in understated dysfunction, indicative of their overall acting ability. It is rare,” notes Los Angeles Times critic Mary McNamara about Greg Kinnear, who plays the father in the film, “to read a bad or even lukewarm review of Kinnear’s work.”51 Toni Collette receives similar accolades, both for her role in Sunshine and in her other films. “Her body of work has earned her widespread respect within Hollywood, where she is considered among the most talented of her generation.”52 Alan Arkin garnered the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor in 2007 for his performance of the film’s heroin-addicted grandfather, after quietly promoting the film through “a gentle campaign fashioned around what Mr. Arkin is willing to do: talk-show appearances, a few interviews and a special evening sponsored by the Film Society of Lincoln Center.”53 Sideways similarly boasted an ensemble cast that each contributed to the overall acting performance of the film. Thomas Haden Church was perhaps best known for his television roles in Wings (1990–1997) and Ned and Stacey (1995–1997) before he took the role of Jack in Sideways. Virginia Madsen had

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also been primarily a television actor before joining the cast of Sideways as Maya. These two actors eventually competed for 2005 Academy Awards, which signaled to audiences that their acting, along with that of costar Paul Giamatti were appropriately billed as “great anchoring performances” by critics.54 Good Night, and Good Luck starred a range of actors as well, although David Strathairn’s portrayal of Edward R. Murrow drove the film, eventually securing a Best Actor nomination at the Academy Awards in 2006. But the film’s promotion focused less on the strength of its actors and more on its subject matter. However, because this film was based on actual events, the marketing campaign included individuals who worked alongside the reallife Murrow. For example, Hugh Downs, the retired journalist, attended question-and-answer sessions that accompanied film promotional events.55 Release Strategy The film’s marketing strategy is carefully planned around its release schedule. Because an “independent” film often has low-profile actors, a novice director, and a quirky storyline, it is often perceived as a risky project that must be carefully monitored in its distribution and exhibition. To cushion this risk, distributors first screen these kinds of films at film festivals to test the film with critics then move them into a platform theatrical release to test with audiences. The film festival is an arena of discovery. Ideally, any film, regardless of financial or professional connection (or lack thereof ), might be sold to a distributor here; it is this Cinderella story that turned The Blair Witch Project into an overnight success. Many festivals, however, are more known for their “independent” films, rather than their independent ones, as the film festival circuit has become one component of a major studio’s planned marketing strategy. Sony Pictures Classics decided that “the best way to create a profile for [their independent feature Welcome to the Dollhouse] would be through a series of film festivals leading up to a summer release for the film.”56 This is an inexpensive way to garner publicity and critical acclaim: “One of the benefits of festival exposure is that films get reviewed by the media,” upon which word-of-mouth (or buzz) develops.57 Garden State screened at seven different festivals, including a premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in 2004 before its theatrical release. It continued to screen at festivals, moving to the international festival circuit as Fox Searchlight and Miramax prepared to release the film overseas. Sideways screened at four festivals, including Toronto and New York, before its domestic theatrical release in 2004, and also expanded to a broad range of international festivals to precede its foreign theatrical release. Good Night, and Good Luck opened at the Venice and New York Film Festivals prior to its release in theaters; the film traveled to more festivals after this release.

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Little Miss Sunshine also premiered at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival; Fox Searchlight acquired distribution rights to the film for $10.5 million. While the film did not have a financial relationship with Fox Searchlight prior to distribution, it did rely on other studio financing for its production. Focus Features had initially funded the film’s production before pulling out before the film was finished. Because Little Miss Sunshine did not arrive at Sundance with a major production and distribution company in hand, its adoption by Fox Searchlight has been classified as “the classic Sundance Cinderella story,” wherein a small, “independent” film drew attention and dollars.58 Fox Searchlight then structured an international festival release strategy to preface the film’s international distribution, touring the film at festivals such as Locarno, Helsinki, Tokyo, and Manila. To complement festival exposure and to build upon critical acclaim, distributors then release their films in a platform strategy, which “involves opening a film in one theater or a few theaters in key target cities, with the intention of building word-of-mouth, then widening the run to other cities, usually in phases.”59 Fox Searchlight built similar release schedules for Sideways in 2004 and for Little Miss Sunshine in 2006, allowing “word-ofmouth to build, rather than this big blitzkrieg ad campaign where you feel like you’re being sold on something . . . [Fox Searchlight] allowed people to discover the movie rather than have them feel like they have to be talked into it.”60 The film started on 7 screens in July 2006, peaking at 1,602 screens two months later before finally leaving theaters in March 2007 with a $59.9 million box office gross.61 Garden State started on 9 screens, building to 813 screens in five weeks.62 Sideways opened on 4 screens and peaked at 1,786 screens four months later.63 To put these numbers in perspective, the average Hollywood blockbuster opens on thousands of screens in the United States and worldwide. King Kong opened on 3,576 screens, while Spider-Man 3 opened on 4,252 American screens with simultaneous theatrical openings around the world.64 So while “independent” films still do not compete at the level of blockbuster opening, they are increasingly becoming major players in the exhibition market. Coveted Awards The Independent Spirit Awards are presented by Film Independent, a Los Angeles–based nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting independent film and filmmakers. The event “has made a name for itself as the premier awards event for the independent film community,” celebrating a “uniqueness of vision”; “original, provocative subject matter”; “economy of means (with particular attention paid to total production cost and individual compensation)”; and “percentage of financing from independent sources.”65 Receiving an Independent Spirit award solidifies the label of “independent” for many

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of Hollywood’s so-called independent films. This award is not, after all, the mainstream Academy Awards or Golden Globes. Rather, it is a banner that marketers can attach to the film’s poster, alongside its festival mentions, to validate the film’s supposed independence. Even press coverage of the event itself confirms the status of this award; the awards ceremony is “always offbeat” with a “let-it-all-hang-out tone.”66 With rising budgets seeping into the independent film industry, some films’ eligibility for the award is called into question. But the award judges may overlook certain shortcomings, including having a too-large budget. Sideways, whose budget came in at $17.5 million, exceeded the awards cap of $15 million but was accepted anyway and ended up receiving the most nominations for 2005, eventually winning six awards.67 The awards ceremony compensates for this budget bloat by instituting an award for Best Film Under $500,000; it has also raised the budget cap to $20 million. Now, it seems, there are two types of films that can receive Independent Spirit Awards: Hollywood’s “independents” and true independents. For the truly independents, perhaps this award means something. For Hollywood’s specialty studio divisions, four Independent Spirit Awards in 2007 for Little Miss Sunshine, one award and three nominations in 2006 for Good Night, and Good Luck, and one award and one nomination for Garden State in 2005 mean that these have achieved the spirit of independence, despite the fact that the films are not independent at all. The theatrical and subsequent home video performances of some of these films were further bolstered by Academy Award nominations and wins. In 2005, Sideways won an Oscar for Best Writing, Adapted Screenplay, and was nominated for an additional four Oscars. Good Night, and Good Luck was nominated for six awards in 2006, and Little Miss Sunshine took home two Oscars (Best Supporting Actor and Best Writing, Original Screenplay), having received four total nominations. AN UNRELIABLE FORMULA Hollywood specialty studios try very hard to construct the perfect independent film. They have tried to figure out an equation that labels films as “independent.” Unknown or underappreciated (but nonetheless stellar) actors work with young, fresh directors in quirky, offbeat films that hit all the major film festivals to build word-of-mouth. This all precedes their limited platform releases and the eventual winning of coveted Independent Spirit Awards, which leads to a respectable performance at the box office and on home video. Hollywood has instituted many of these elements to assemble an infrastructure that can be used to dominate film distribution to all audience niches. Film festivals such as Sundance, Toronto, and Cannes have become all but

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unreachable for amateur filmmakers hoping to break into the film industry. Instead, they are used as one of several stops within the release strategy of a major studio’s “independent” film. Even theater chains are becoming part of that Hollywood “independent” infrastructure. AMC Theatres, the country’s second-largest theater chain, has designated a certain number of its theaters to its AMC Select program, going by the tagline, “Special Films for Select Tastes.”68 This program “showcase[s] independent films in theaters in markets where art house viewers are believed to reside.”69 Is the formula so entrenched that every film released by studio specialty divisions can be guaranteed box office success? Certainly Little Miss Sunshine and the other films examined here attest to the reliability of this formula. But we can also locate many instances of films that have failed, despite Hollywood’s best efforts. For example, Sony Pictures Classics distributed The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada from first-time director and seasoned actor Tommy Lee Jones. It started in various festivals such as Cannes and Toronto, garnered four Independent Spirit Award nominations, and opened on 33 screens. It only expanded, however, to 356 screens in four weeks before the studio acknowledged that audiences did not agree with the film’s publicity. The film’s box office gross stalled at $5 million.70 Thumbsucker (Mike Mills, 2005) faced an uphill challenge from the start, as producers and distributors alike refused to sign on to the film because, as director Mike Mills recalls, they felt that “it’s unmarketable, it’s unmarketable, it’s unmarketable.”71 Some “independent” films are rather too independent, as Mills discovered with his film. Despite signing on Tilda Swinton and Keanu Reeves to star in the film, Sony Pictures Classics (its eventual distributor) gave the film limited marketing attention; it tried to follow “independent” film marketing protocol by premiering the film at Sundance in 2005, followed by screenings at the festivals in Berlin and Toronto the same year. Thumbsucker was even nominated for an Independent Spirit Award for Best First Feature. But Thumbsucker’s platform release, starting with nine screens, only expanded to 330 screens before the studio realized that the film was bombing. The film’s dual coming-of-age stories (the story of the main character, Justin, and the story of his parents) “seems to be what scared the marketing people.” Mills protested the tactics used for his film, which eventually spelled its demise of garnering only $1.3 million in a ten-week run. “The marketing thing pissed me off . . . In [the U.S.], it’s just lumped into this quirky independent box.”72 Hollywood studio executives tend to think that they have captive audiences whose preferences are easily mapped. As Miller et al. write, “Marketing executives have already decided that an audience exists for a film with the right combination of high playability, clear positioning and abundant marketability.”73 The prevalence of Hollywood specialty studio divisions signals Hollywood’s confidence that it must simply massage audience tastes to

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match company objectives, with less attention to the integrity and quality of the filmmaker or the film. INDEPENDENT TRAILBLAZERS As we have seen, the film marketplace is clogged with “independent” films that are produced and distributed by the specialty divisions of major studios. These types of films define what should be typically associated with the concept of independence. Film publicity, and the corresponding infrastructure through which to communicate it, is saturated with certain buzzwords, symbols, and themes befitting independent films. It starts to matter less if the film is actually produced and distributed outside the six major studios that dominate 94 percent of the domestic box office. So where does this leave filmmakers who do operate completely outside of the studio system? If the studios effectively decide what films are shown at most theaters in the country, what outlets do independent filmmakers have? How can they differentiate their films from the studio-supported “independent” ones percolating in every corner of the film industry, given that the media generally frames them all to be of the same ilk? Independent film has existed alongside, in opposition to, and because of major studio productions since the very beginning of cinema. Independent filmmakers have long been driven to alter their production, distribution, and exhibition practices in order to stand out, only for Hollywood to co-opt them after the success of these practices has been proven. For example, the economic imperative of filming with consumer-grade digital cameras has translated into digital camerawork in major productions, as seen in films such as Click (Frank Coraci, 2006), distributed by Sony Pictures, and Miami Vice (Michael Mann, 2006), distributed by Universal Pictures. Consequently, this once economic and aesthetic necessity has mainstreamed to the point that it no longer is a mark of an independent film. The use of Web sites and social networking sites to reach film audiences has produced a glut of carefully crafted and highly purposeful online corporate marketing synergies. Because of Hollywood’s constant co-opting of independent techniques, however, independent filmmakers are forced to continue developing new techniques, infrastructures, and tactics, pushing the boundaries, in this case, of traditional film marketing and distribution. The case of Four Eyed Monsters (Susan Buice and Arin Crumley, 2005) exemplifies the willingness of independent filmmakers to pursue innovative modes of marketing and distribution in order to connect with audiences. The film, which follows the relationship of two shy individuals who communicate by never directly speaking to each other, has located its audiences primarily, like most independent films these days, through online word-of-mouth. After an appearance at the 2006 Slamdance Film Festival

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(which happens concurrently in Park City, Utah, with Sundance), Buice and Crumley’s hopes of securing a distributor did not pan out. Therefore, they began to develop their own marketing and distribution plan that was not contingent on studio (or even independent distribution company) support. The duo began broadcasting via their film’s Web site episodic video podcasts that were effectively extensions of the film itself. These mini-films were paired with music by unsigned musicians and offered via MySpace in order to initiate cross-promotion, whereby music fans would discover the film and vice versa; they have been downloaded over 500,000 times via YouTube, MySpace, and iTunes.74 Soon, the directors decided to premiere the 71-minute Four Eyed Monsters on the video-sharing site, YouTube, becoming the first full-length feature to do so. Their next step involved identifying clusters of interested audiences in different geographic locations in order to arrange screenings likely to be attended by at least 150 people. Buice and Crumley screened their film in over 100 cities around the United States after having received requests from over 5,000 people. With their attention now turned toward creating more minifilm podcasts and coordinating a DVD release of Four Eyed Monsters, the pair cannot promise that they themselves will arrange screenings. They do, however, encourage audiences to host screenings. They have relinquished control over possible financial gain from these kinds of screenings, merely suggesting: “We recommend screenings be free,” the film’s Web site proposes, “but if money is charged, we ask that half be sent to us via pay pal. And educational institutions that normally pay films a screening fee can just send us a check for the going rate they normally pay to other films.”75 Some of these screenings are arranged through Brave New Theaters, which bills itself as “the world’s first people-powered movie distributor.”76 This free service facilitates networks between filmmakers and venues (both traditional theaters and nontraditional venues such as churches or universities) in order to arrange screenings that “uh, wreak a little havoc on the corporate media.” “Everybody wins!” exclaims the Web site. “Except the Hollywood studios.”77 Buice and Crumley have now aligned with Spout, a film recommendation community Web site, in another mutually beneficial partnership. For every person who signs up with Spout.com by way of Four Eyed Monsters’ recommendation, Spout will donate one dollar to recoup Buice and Crumley’s $100,000 film production costs (Spout earns most of its revenue from online DVD sales). The filmmakers have earned over $46,000 as of October 2007. Although this return is only a portion of the filmmakers’ financial outlay, it presents an alternative model of financial recouping that is not contingent on a studio distribution deal. Filmmakers are often paid an advance upon signing a distribution deal, which may or may not entirely cover production costs, and they often do not receive any additional money from box office grosses or ancillary sales. Furthermore, film rights are signed over to the

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distributor, therefore rendering filmmakers unable to earn any more money on the film if the film fails from distributor inattention or mishandling.78 Buice and Crumley’s model of self-distribution allows them to retain financial control over the film while affording them the option to try different promotional tactics. Now other filmmakers are following Buice and Crumley’s model of film marketing and distribution. Independent filmmaker Francis Stokes released his film Harold Buttleman, Daredevil Stuntman (2002) on YouTube in August 2007; he, too, attracted the attention of Spout, which “wants to help filmmakers who are pioneering online distribution.”79 The Web site is contributing one dollar to Stokes’ production expenses for each member signed up on Spout.com through Stokes’ recommendation (Stokes had secured nearly $2,500 as of October 2007). These strategies are in sharp contrast to the operations of any corporately owned film distributor, which does not relinquish such control over distribution and exhibition. Films made outside the studio system count on communities of support, often achieved by handing over control to audiences and trusting them with it. Since its inception, independent film has relied on communities of support that gather for the love of cinema, rather than corporately distributed “independent” film that actively seeks and builds communities through the financial heft of marketing dollars. The truly independent film communities might develop as a result of festival buzz or as a collection of supporters finding and responding to a film on YouTube or Spout. Independent filmmakers’ style of promotion relies on self-selected communities who stumble across or purposefully seek out a given film such as Four Eyed Monsters, rather than having a film shoved at them from every conceivable angle. While these films may not garner anywhere near similar levels of box office grosses as Hollywood releases, filmmakers such as Buice and Crumley are more interested in circumventing the strictures of the traditional distribution track, thereby paving the way for filmmakers to self-distribute without going broke. Another independent filmmaker, Lance Weiler, established a sustainable model of theatrical self-distribution for his film Head Trauma that hinged on paid speaking engagements, advertising sponsors, and 50/50 door split with small theaters on his film’s national tour. He notes that the current distribution system is broken, which puts filmmaking “at a very interesting crossroads. When something is damaged it provides new opportunities.”80 Despite Hollywood’s best efforts to control the film industry by coding their own films as “independent” in marketing campaigns, independent filmmakers continue to push the boundaries of what audiences identify as independent. With each new marketing or distribution tactic, they remove gatekeeper control out of Hollywood studios’ hands, at least momentarily, so that audiences have more agency over the kinds of films they would like to see, and filmmakers have more agency over the fates of their films. “Through

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all these media,” comment Buice and Crumley, “we’re having sort of a conversation with our audience. We’re becoming friends with people we’ve never met.”81 These personal relationships are key for independent filmmakers, as the filmmakers typically do not have the financial wherewithal to compete with “independent” film marketing materials flooding out of Hollywood. In fact, some consider their lack of marketing to be the crucial component: If these films are hyped, they may be doomed. One of the joys of stumbling upon a charming or sophisticated or funny low-budget . . . film is just that, stumbling upon it, whether given to you on DVD by a friend or the filmmaker himself or walking into one of them unknowingly at a film festival . . . I’d think they need to come at the average viewer like a pleasant surprise, with as little forethought or anticipation as possible.82

While the preceding quote refers directly to “mumblecore” films (films that have been deemed part of a new independent film movement that revels in low production qualities and casual filmmaking), film journalist Anthony Kaufman’s sentiments can be extended to much of independent cinema today.

CONCLUSION Hollywood studios use specialty film divisions to produce and distribute “independent” films in order to maximize revenue streams by offering films to every audience niche. No matter the preference, Hollywood should supply it. Independent filmmakers have long posed a threat to Hollywood’s methods of conducting business by presenting innovative and often equally effective modes of filmmaking, and as independent filmmakers discover more techniques that facilitate the production, distribution, and exhibition of their films, Hollywood strives to retain its control by coding its films as “independent.” Major studios release films under specialty labels that self-identify as “independent” (witness Warner Independent Pictures) and follow strict marketing campaigns that foreground a given film’s “independent” qualities. These elements are intended to connect a given film with previously released independent films; they include fresh or amateur directors, quality acting, quirky or endearing storylines, a release strategy that includes the festival circuit and platform releasing, and coveted awards. While this chapter uncovers how Hollywood studios use these elements for narrative feature films, it should be noted that another area ripe for further development is how studios market documentaries, which are films traditionally under the helm of independent filmmakers. As documentaries perform increasingly well at the box office, Hollywood studios will surely more explicitly craft marketing campaigns to code these films in certain ways. Are these campaigns similar to those of “independent” films, or do they contain elements unique to the genre?

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We must also consider how Hollywood studios will respond to new marketing and distribution techniques such as those utilized by Susan Buice and Arin Crumley for Four Eyed Monsters. These filmmakers eschew financial gain by offering their film free-of-charge on YouTube and allowing people to screen the film in whatever venue possible —all in return for the knowledge that their film is finding its audience. Hollywood will likely refuse to relinquish control over marketing and distribution and will likely still try to co-opt these techniques somehow, monetizing them for financial gain. Hollywood studios may more actively seek out practitioners of alternative film distribution before these models prove successful or are popularly adopted, offering opportunities to work with studios to develop distribution options that continue to favor a studio’s interests over those of the filmmakers. However, a studio promise of profits may still not overcome the lure of retaining rights to one’s own creative work and the chance to intimately connect with audiences. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This chapter was completed with the assistance of a grant from the University of Oregon Canadian Studies Committee, which enabled me to present a version of this chapter at the 2007 Union for Democratic Communications conference in Vancouver, Canada. NOTES 1. Internet Movie Database, “Box Office/Business for Brokeback Mountain,” IMDb. com, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0388795/business (accessed September 30, 2007). 2. David Carr, “As Independents Lead Oscars, Credits at Issue,” International Herald Tribune, February 2, 2006, 10. 3. Avi Lerner, as told to Nicole Porte, “Reality Check: Lerner: ‘Indie’ Means Risk,” Variety, May 15–21, 2006, 16. 4. The Motion Picture Association of America reports that theatrical admissions declined from $1.64 billion in 2002 to $1.40 billion in 2005, with only a small increase in 2006 to $1.45 billion. Motion Picture Association, U.S. Entertainment Industry: 2006 Market Statistics (Los Angeles: Motion Picture Association Worldwide Market Research and Analysis, 2006), 6. 5. Motion Picture Association of America, U.S. Entertainment Industry, 15–16. 6. A lawsuit filed against Brokeback Mountain’s production company, Focus Features, by one of the film’s actors cited a $30 million P&A price tag for the film, more than double its production budget. Randy Quaid claimed that he accepted a very small fee for his role in the film in order to allow the production to devote its budget toward the film. Quaid’s complaint arose when the film began to achieve box office success, earning $160 million by the time Quaid filed the lawsuit. Sharon Waxman, “Lawsuit over ‘Brokeback Mountain’ Reveals Unease over Pay for ‘Arthouse’ Films,” New York Times, March 29, 2006, http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/29/movies/ 29quaid.html (accessed January 9, 2008).

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7. Chris Holmlund, “Introduction: From the Margins to the Mainstream,” in Contemporary American Independent Film: From the Margins to the Mainstream, ed. Chris Holmlund and Justin Wyatt (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 2. 8. Greg Merritt, Celluloid Mavericks: A History of American Independent Film, (New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 2000); Peter Biskind, Down and Dirty Pictures: Miramax, Sundance, and the Rise of Independent Film (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2004). 9. Geoff King, American Independent Cinema (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2005); Emmanuel Levy, Cinema of Outsiders: The Rise of American Independent Film (New York: New York University Press, 1999); John Pierson, Spike, Mike, Slackers & Dykes: A Guided Tour Across a Decade of Independent American Cinema (London: Faber, 1996). 10. “SIC 78—Motion Pictures,” Market Share Reporter, 2005 (Detroit, MI: Gale Research, 2005). 11. Time Warner, “Fact Sheet,” Time Warner: About Us, http://www.timewarner. com/corp/aboutus/fact_sheet.html (accessed October 8, 2007). 12. Warner Independent Pictures, “About Warner Independent Pictures,” Warner Independent Pictures Web site, http://wip.warnerbros.com (accessed June 11, 2006). 13. Warner Independent Pictures, “About Warner.” 14. Alisa Perren, “A Big Fat Indie Success Story? Press Discourses Surrounding the Making and Marketing of a ‘Hollywood’ Movie,” Journal of Film and Video 56, no. 2 (2004), 18–31. 15. King, American Independent Cinema, 46. 16. Yannis Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema: An Introduction (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2006), 11. 17. Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema, 282. 18. Frederick Wasser, Veni, Vidi, Video: The Hollywood Empire and the VCR (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2001). 19. “ ‘Spider-Man 3’ Smashes Box Office Records,” MSNBC.com, May 7, 2007, http:// www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18522923/ (accessed October 3, 2007). 20. Internet Movie Database, “All-Time USA Box Office,” IMDb.com, http://www. imdb.com/boxoffice/alltimegross (accessed June 10, 2006). 21. William Booth, “Box Office Blahs: Blame It on (Fill in the Blank); Reasons for Slump Are Cinematic in Scope,” The Washington Post, December 30, 2005. 22. Box office revenue spiked in 2002, hitting $9.52 billion. It has since fluctuated slightly, resting at $9.49 billion for 2006. Motion Picture Association, U.S. Entertainment Industry, 4. 23. Tiiu Lukk, Movie Marketing: Opening a Picture and Giving it Legs (Los Angeles: Silman-James Press, 1997), 47. 24. Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema, 12. 25. Tino Balio, “Brigitte Bardot and Hollywood’s Takeover of the US Art Film Market in the 1960s,” in Trading Culture: Global Traffic and Local Cultures in Film and Television (Eastleigh, UK: John Libbey), 192. 26. Lukk, Movie Marketing. 27. D. F. Prindle, Risky Business: The Political Economy of Hollywood (Boulder: Westview, 1993); Justin Wyatt, High Concept: Movies and Marketing in Hollywood (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1994). 28. Robert Marich, Marketing to Moviegoers: A Handbook of Strategies Used by Major Studios and Independents (Burlington, MA: Focal Press, 2005), xii.

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29. Marich, Marketing to Moviegoers, 249. 30. Lists of distributed films were obtained from each studio’s entry on Internet Movie Database (imdb.com). 31. Fox Searchlight Pictures, “The Studio: About Fox Searchlight Pictures,” Fox Searchlight Pictures Web site, http://content.foxsearchlight.com/studio/node/218 (accessed October 4, 2007); “2006 Annual Report,” The Walt Disney Company, http:// corporate.disney.go.com/investors/annual_reports/WDC-AR-2006.pdf (accessed October 4, 2007), 21. 32. Johanna Schneller, “Smart Money was on Indies,” The Globe and Mail, February 3, 2006, R4. 33. Schneller, “Smart Money was on Indies,” R4. 34. Stephen Garrett, “Critic’s Diary, Part 1: Zach Braff ’s Impressive Trip to the ‘Garden State’; Mixed Reactions to ‘Chrystal,’ ‘Primer,’ and More,” Indiewire.com, January 18, 2004, http://www.indiewire.com/onthescene/onthescene_040118crit. html (accessed June 10, 2006). 35. Lloyd Sachs, “Madsen uncorks vintage performance with new kind of full-bodied role,” The Chicago Sun-Times, January 9, 2005; Eleanor Ringel Gillespie, “Wine-Country Trip Uncorks Friendship’s Quirky Complexity,” The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, November 5, 2004. 36. Ty Burr, “ ‘Sunshine’ Warms with Dark Laughs,” The Boston Globe, August 4, 2006, D1; Mary McNamara, “Sneaks/The List; Little Miss Sunshine; Putting Dysfunction to the Road Test,” The Los Angeles Times, May 7, 2006, E35. 37. Daniel B. Wood and Gloria Goodale, “Moviegoers to Hollywood: ‘Make it Real,’ ” Christian Science Monitor, February 1, 2006, 1. 38. A. O. Scott, “News in Black, White and Shades of Gray,” The New York Times, September 23, 2005, E1. 39. Steve Persall, “A Good Day for the Good Guys,” St. Petersburg Times, November 3, 2005, 11W. 40. Lukk, Movie Marketing, 114. 41. Patrick Barkham, “ ‘I’ve Won the Indie Film Lottery’: Zach Braff has Graduated from Star of Scrubs to Writer and Director of His Own Hit Film,” The Guardian, November 12, 2004. 42. Brian Brooks, “ ‘Garden State’ Sows a Bountiful Box Office Debut,” Indiewire.com, August 4, 2004, http://www.indiewire.com/biz/biz_040804boxoffice.html (accessed June 10, 2006). 43. Zach Braff, “Stir Crazy in French Canada,” Zach Braff ’s Garden State Blog, May 24, 2005, http://www2.foxsearchlight.com/gardenstate/blog/index.html (accessed June 11,2006). 44. Barkham, “I’ve Won the Indie Film Lottery.” 45. Barkham, “I’ve Won the Indie Film Lottery.” 46. Sharon Waxman, “A Small Film Nearly Left for Dead Has Its Day in the Sundance Rays,” The New York Times, January 23, 2006, E1; Jim Schembri, “The Little Film That Could,” The Age (Melbourne), October 13, 2006, 2. 47. Christie Lemire, “ ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ is an Indie Treat,” MSNBC.com, http:// www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14013775/ (accessed October 5, 2007).

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48. Ann Thompson, “Clooney’s Good Luck; Actor Picks Up Six Golden Globe Noms,” The Toronto Sun, December 31, 2005, 56. 49. Schneller, “Smart Money was on Indies,” R4. 50. Forbes reports that of the top 20 best-paid actors and actresses in 2005, only four have ever received Academy Awards. Lacey Rose, “The World’s Best-Paid Actors and Actresses,” Forbes.com, February 23, 2006, http://www.forbes.com/2006/02/23/ best-paid-actors_cx_lr_0223actors.html (accessed January 10, 2008). 51. Mary McNamara, “The Life of Hollywood; Behind the Smile; The Good Looks Aren’t Why Greg Kinnear Gets a Wide Variety of Roles,” The Los Angeles Times, July 17, 2006, E1. 52. Sharon Waxman, “Lovely When Necessary, But Vulnerable Always,” The New York Times, May 7, 2006, Section 2A, 3. 53. Margy Rochlin, “Dry as Ever, Shrugging at Hollywood,” The New York Times, January 7, 2007, Section 2A, 7. 54. M. E. Russell, “Slipping ‘Sideways’ Toward an Oscar,” The Oregonian, January 29, 2005. 55. John Clark, “To Promote Unusual Films, Try Uncommon Marketing,” The New York Times, January 16, 2006, C5. 56. Lukk, Movie Marketing, 118. 57. Lukk, Movie Marketing, 120. 58. Waxman, “A Small Film,” E1. 59. Lukk, Movie Marketing, 2. 60. Schembri, “The Little Film That Could,” 2. 61. Internet Movie Database, “Box Office/Business for Little Miss Sunshine,” IMDb. com, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0449059/business (accessed October 5, 2007). 62. Internet Movie Database, “Business Data for Garden State,” IMDb.com, http:// www.imdb.com/title/tt0333766/business (accessed June 11, 2006). 63. Internet Movie Database, “Business Data for Sideways,” IMDb.com, http://www. imdb.com/title/tt0375063/business (accessed June 11, 2006). 64. Internet Movie Database, “Business Data for King Kong,” IMDb.com, http:// www.imdb.com/title/tt0360717/business (accessed June 11, 2006). 65. Film Independent, “Independent Spirit Awards,” Film Independent Web site, http://www.filmindependent.org/index.php/independent_spirit_awards (accessed June 12, 2006); Film Independent, “FAQs,” Film Independent Web site, http://www. filmindependent.org/index.php/independent_spirit_awards/submit_your_film (accessed October 5, 2007). 66. Will Keck and Donna Freydkin, “Oh, What an Expletive Deleted Night; That’s the Spirit Awards,” USA Today, March 6, 2006; Richard Rushfield, “It All Depends What You Mean By ‘Independent,’ ” The New York Times, January 23, 2005. 67. Richard Rushfield, “It All Depends What You Mean By ‘Independent,’ ” The New York Times, January 23, 2005. 68. AMC Theatres, “AMC Select,” 2007, http://www.amctheatres.com/amctheatres/ user-controller/select (accessed October 5, 2007). 69. Lorenza Munoz, “AMC to Exhibit Specialty Films,” The Los Angeles Times, May 2, 2006.

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70. Internet Movie Database, “Business Data for The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada.” IMDb.com, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0419294/business (accessed June 11, 2006). 71. Pascale Wyse, “G2: Culture: ‘This Film is Unmarketable’: Mike Mills Signed Up Keanu Reeves, Tilda Swinton and Vince Vaughn for his First Feature. And Still No One Wanted to Fund It,” The Guardian, October 25, 2005, 21. 72. Wyse, “G2: Culture,” 21. 73. Toby Miller et al., Global Hollywood (London: BFI Publishing, 2001), 157. 74. Eugene Hernandez, “DIY Distribution: Coming Soon Via the Filmmakers . . . ‘Four Eyed Monsters’ and ‘Head Trauma,’ ” indieWIRE Insider, August 16, 2006, http://www.indiewire.com/biz/2006/08/diy_distributio_1.html (accessed October 8, 2007). 75. Susan Buice and Arin Crumley, “Four Eyed Monsters—Request the Film and Join Our Mailing List,” Four Eyed Monsters Web site, http://foureyedmonsters.com/ request_film/ (accessed October 6, 2007). 76. Brave New Theaters Web site, http://bravenewtheaters.com/ (accessed October 6, 2007). 77. “What Filmmakers Can Do with Brave New Theaters,” Brave New Theaters Web site, http://bravenewtheaters.com/filmmakers (accessed October 6, 2007). 78. John W. Cones notes that independent film producers are often highly disadvantaged in the structuring of distribution deals due to misleading or unclear contractual terms and creative accounting procedures. John W. Cones, The Feature Film Distribution Deal: A Critical Analysis of the Single Most Important Film Industry Agreement (Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1997), 3–5. 79. “Francis Stokes,” Spout Web site, 2007, http://www.spout.com/francisstokes (accessed October 6, 2007). 80. Lance Weiler, “DIY Workbook Project and a Best Buy Promotion,” Indie Features (ex Indie Features 06), November 9, 2006, http://indiefeatures06.blogspot.com/2006/ 11/diy-workbook-project-best-buy.html (accessed January 10, 2008). 81. Barbara Gibson, “ ‘Four Eyed Monsters’: From Podcasts to Theaters,” Apple Hot News, 2007, http://www.apple.com/hotnews/articles/2006/09/foureyedmonsters/ (accessed October 6, 2007). 82. Anthony Kaufman, “Why Mumblecore Shouldn’t Be Hyped,” Anthony Kaufman’s blog, August 22, 2007, http://blogs.indiewire.com/anthony/archives/014434.html (accessed January 9, 2008).

chapter 9

Entertainment in the Margins of the American Film Industry: “Orion Pictures Presents a Filmhaus Production of a David Mamet Film” Yannis Tzioumakis

This chapter examines the business of entertainment in the vibrant independent sector of the American film industry. Since the early 1980s, this formerly marginal sector of American cinema has been responsible for the production of a large number of aesthetically and politically challenging films that have found considerable commercial exposure, to the extent that several critics have talked of an “independent movement” within Hollywood cinema.1 By the end of the 1980s, this movement had become a sizeable force in American cinema as the incredible commercial success of sex, lies, and videotape (Soderbergh, 1989), the popularization of Sundance Film Festival, and the rise of Miramax as the quintessential distribution company of independent fare brought low-budget films by (mostly) young filmmakers and made away from the majors much closer to a mainstream audience. Since then, the label “independent” has been claimed by a large number of films, filmmakers, producers, production companies, and distribution companies as it was seen to connote “a particular brand of quality that was perceived as absent from the considerably more refined (and expensive) but impersonal mainstream Hollywood productions.”2 As a result, it became increasingly difficult to define what an independent film is, while even major productions have been keen to play up the “independent card,” such as The Aviator (Scorsese, 2005) which, according to its producer, was “the biggest

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independent movie ever made, unless you count Lord of the Rings.”3 Not surprisingly then, the business of entertainment in the independent sector became a blurry subject, especially when the majors created subsidiaries (“the Classics divisions”) firstly to make profit from non-American art house films but later with the explicit purpose of claiming a piece of the American independent film market. With companies such as United Artists Classics, Sony Pictures Classics, and Fox Searchlight distributing and (later) financing famous independent films such as Lianna (Sayles, 1983), Safe (Haynes, 1995), and Boys Don’t Cry (Peirce, 1999), respectively, it became incredibly difficult to argue that these companies are not part of the institutional apparatus of American independent cinema, despite the fact that their corporate parents are conglomerates with massive financial power and the companies against which independent cinema often defines itself.4 Even though these developments have been shaping the independent sector in recent years, especially post-1989, they were nevertheless anticipated to a great extent by the practices and conduct of business of Orion Pictures, a motion picture company that went into business in the late 1970s. As I’ve argued elsewhere, Orion is an exceptional case in the American film industry.5 Originally an independent production company attached to a major studio (Warner), Orion quickly left the major and entered the film distribution business, becoming an independent production and distribution company that financed productions in-house while also purchasing distribution rights of films from other independent production companies. This means that Orion plied its trade across the independent spectrum (financing, commissioning, purchasing distribution rights, and distributing) as this had been emerging in the 1980s, while it was also one of the first companies to form a classics division, Orion Classics, in 1983. For that reason it makes an excellent case study to understand the direction(s) the business of filmmaking took within the context of contemporary American independent cinema. The main focal point will be the production history of House of Games (Mamet, 1987), one of the low-budget films Orion financed and distributed but that was produced by Filmhaus Productions, the production company of respected independent producer Michael Hausman (with producing credits in Silkwood [Nichols, 1983] and The People vs Larry Flint [Forman, 1996]). What makes House of Games an interesting example is that the film was made by a first-time director and was also characterized by a distinctive aesthetic, in line with what audiences have come to anticipate from an “indie” film. As our discussion will demonstrate, the distinct aesthetic effects the film conveyed, which were the product of an unusual narrative construction and use of visual style, must be firstly attributed to the fact that the film was conceived, developed, produced, and distributed away from the majors, which would never allow a film such as House of Game to become the film it became. On the other hand, Orion could. Specifically, the company’s practice

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of preselling the rights for its films to raise production finance so that Orion would not put its own money in line and the company’s legendary reputation for being “always open to the offbeat or ‘serious’ idea” and “sensitive to filmmakers” created an institutional arrangement that allowed a first-time film director, such as Mamet, unprecedented freedom to make his film according to his own very specific aesthetic vision.6 Following this arrangement, Mamet and Filmhaus organized the production of the film in a way that differs substantially from the dominant mode of production that has characterized mainstream American cinema from its early days and has remained generally unaltered post-1960, despite several changes in the industry.7 As a sort of preface, I cite Mamet’s statement on his experience as the director of House of Games: “what a joy to be on a project that was not a collaboration,” a comment that can be read as a direct criticism of the hierarchy entailed in the detailed division of labor that characterizes the mode of production of mainstream “classical” films. Instead, Mamet and Filmhaus utilized a somewhat less hierarchical model, one that has a long standing tradition in independent filmmaking since John Cassavetes revolutionized the sector in the late 1950s and that continues to our times. Before examining the institutional configuration that the phrase “Orion Pictures Presents a Filmhaus Production of a David Mamet Film” signifies, a brief discussion of what independent filmmaking actually is and how it evolved alongside mainstream cinema is in need. INDEPENDENT FILMMAKING AND AMERICAN CINEMA Independent film production has always coexisted alongside studio production in American cinema and has taken many forms and functions. For instance, during the studio years (mid-1920s to late 1940s) the label independent could be attached to prestige-level pictures made by producers such as Samuel Goldwyn, Walt Disney, and David O. Selznick who used United Artists (and later other companies) to release films they made through their respective production companies. Among these independent films one could find films such as Wuthering Heights (Wyler, 1939) and The Best Years of Our Lives (Wyler, 1946), films widely considered mainstream Hollywood productions under the studio system, which nevertheless were produced by Samuel Goldwyn through his independent company and distributed by United Artists and RKO, respectively. The same label, however, could also be attached to low-budget pictures (such as the singing cowboy western Rainbow Over Texas [F. McDonald, 1946]) produced and distributed by Poverty Row studios such as Republic Pictures or Edgar G. Ulmer’s famed B noir Detour (1945) produced and released by Producers Releasing Corporation and destined for the low part of

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double bills in the 1930s and 1940s. The label independent could also be attached to ultra-low-budget films that targeted the various ethnic populations in America, which were produced, distributed, and exhibited mainly outside the California-based film industry. Oscar Micheux’s films such as Within Our Gates (1920) and Body and Soul (1925), which were made completely outside Hollywood and targeted black audiences, are characteristic examples of this type of independent cinema.8 During the 1940s and 1950s, however, a cluster of sociocultural factors including demographic shifts (especially the wave of suburbanization), the rise of consumer culture, and the consolidation of television as the primary entertainment medium had been gradually shaping an American society with an increasing number of leisure options. With theater attendance declining constantly since 1947 (despite the studios’ attempts to emphasize the cinema experience through the introduction of widescreen technologies in the early 1950s), it was clear that cinema-going became a secondary activity in postwar America.9 All these factors led to an industrial and economic restructuring in the American film industry, the main manifestation of which can be seen in the dissolution of the studio system, the concentration of the majors on the production of fewer but more expensive films, and on the strict control of the distribution sector. These changes in the industry changed the format of independent filmmaking. Since the 1950s, prestige-level, top--rank independent production became increasingly “dependent” to the majors as they adopted this type of production after the dissolution of the studio system and were happy to concentrate on financing and distributing while letting other, smaller corporate entities deal with the production process. Films such as The Defiant Ones (Kramer, 1958) and Spartacus (Kubrick, 1960) were financed and distributed by majors (United Artists and Universal, respectively) but were produced by companies owned by Stanley Kramer and Kirk Douglas, respectively. Equally, low-end independent filmmaking continued to exist in the somewhat different form of exploitation filmmaking that companies such as AIP, Dimension, New World Pictures, and filmmakers such as William Castle and Roger Corman practiced from the 1950s onwards. Furthermore, hubs of independent filmmaking activity continued to exist outside California, such as the New American Cinema Group that was based in New York and emphasized an anti-Hollywood approach to film production and distribution. John Cassavetes, an extremely influential independent filmmaker, started his career as part of the group but quickly distanced himself from filmmakers such as John Mekas, Edward Bland, and Lionel Rogosin who were pulled toward the noncommercial avant-garde cinema. Some of these trends continued largely unaltered to our times. For instance, one could argue that Titanic (1997), a film that epitomizes mainstream Hollywood production at its most excessive, is an independent film

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because it was produced by James Cameron’s Lightstorm Entertainment and financed and distributed by Fox and Paramount, much like Spartacus in the 1960s.10 And the same can be suggested for low-budget exploitation filmmaking, which found new avenues of financing with the advent of new distribution and exhibition technologies (video, cable, Pay TV, satellite and, recently, DVD and the Internet), which have made certain film genres (horror, pornographic, martial arts films) very cheap to make and with guaranteed distribution in the video and cable market. The advent of new distribution outlets, however, became beneficial for another format of independent filmmaking, which lay a much stronger claim to the label independent than the other formats. The introduction of all those distribution technologies signaled the creation of new exhibition outlets, all of which needed sufficient product to operate cost-effectively. At a time when the majors were distributing just over 100 films a year on average, it was clear that demand for films would be staggering. Exploiting their existing film libraries (licensing their old films for exhibition in the cable and video markets) was one of the main measures the majors took, but the demand was mainly for new product. This became particularly evident in the mid-1980s when the home video market showed a tremendous growth (from 1,850,000 VCR sets in 78,000,000 households [2.4% penetration] in 1980, the number reached 32,000,000 in 87,400,000 households [37.2% penetration] in 1986, on the way to 67.6% penetration three years later). With pay cable subscriptions exceeding slightly the numbers of VCRs in 1986 (32,500,000 subscriptions), it was clear that any film producer stood a good chance to have their film released in one or more of the nontheatrical markets, often regardless of the film’s quality and regardless of whether the film received theatrical distribution.11 With the majors increasingly focusing on the production of a handful of blockbusters per year, it was left to independent production to come up with the rest of the product required to sustain the majors’ immense distribution pipelines, cater for the various tastes of different audiences, and generally support the film market in this time of expansion. The mid-1980s, in particular, witnessed a substantial rise in independent film production that provided the necessary diversity of product that the majors were in no position to supply. With ample production finance available primarily via the preselling of home video (and in most cases, cable) rights to numerous new distributors, which were established to exploit specifically these highly unusual circumstances (Vestron, Vidmark, Full Moon, etc. in the video area; HBO, Showtime in cable), independent film production became responsible for a huge variety of films.12 This diverse production fed the majors’ distribution apparatus but also catered for distinct niche markets such as the art-house market or different minority markets. The good market conditions for independent filmmaking reached a major threshold in 1989. That year and largely due to the hype surrounding Steven

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Soderbergh’s sex, lies, and videotape, as well as other participating films such as True Love (Savoka) and Heathers (Lehmann), the until-then little-known U.S. Film Festival became headlining news. With the Sundance Film Institute also achieving public visibility and with companies such as New Line Cinema and Miramax scoring incredible box office figures with small, idiosyncratic films such as House Party (Hudlin, 1990) and sex, lies, and videotape, independent cinema stopped being associated entirely with low-budget, esoteric films for the art-house market. It suddenly became commercial and therefore an attractive proposition for all kinds of industry practitioners and, of course, for the majors. The company that exploited these new conditions better than anyone was Miramax. Although Miramax existed since the late 1970s as a distribution company of mostly foreign art films, the success of sex, lies, and videotape, which Miramax distributed theatrically, put the company firmly on the map. For a short period of time the company operated primarily through purchases of distribution rights of films from the increasing number of festivals that showcased the new American independent films. Since the mid-1990s, though, Miramax adopted the “Orion model” and proceeded in the finance of films that other independent companies would produce. In this manner Miramax was able to cultivate relationships with successful filmmakers such as Anthony Minghella, Quentin Tarantino, and Kevin Smith. However, unlike Orion, which maintained its corporate autonomy throughout its history, Miramax accepted a conglomerate takeover by Disney in 1993, becoming then one of the “major independents . . . hybrid production and distribution companies that were allowed a large degree of creative autonomy after they were taken over by a conglomerate parent.”13 With Disney’s backing Miramax dominated the market while independent production flourished under two more “systems.” The first was under the auspices of independent distributors, the number of which—not surprisingly— multiplied after 1989. The vast majority of these distributors (such as Cinecom and October) were not in the business of finance and production and therefore operated strictly through purchasing distribution rights of completed films (much like the way Miramax operated before the takeover by Disney). The second system was under the aegis of the classics divisions. Originally, the classics were subsidiaries established by the majors to distribute nonAmerican films in the United States as certain European art films such as Truffaut’s La Dernier Metro ( The Last Metro) and Beineix’s Diva made rentals of $1.9 million and $2 million in 1980 and 1981, respectively, demonstrating clearly the potential for profit in that market.14 Soon, however, the classics started buying the distribution rights of American independent films and, in effect, competing against Miramax and the independent distributors for product. By the mid-1990s, the competition had reached such levels that soon the classics divisions (with the backup of

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their parent companies) followed Miramax’s example and started financing films that were “independent in spirit,” something that independent distributors were in no position of doing because no independent, with the possible exception of Lions Gate, had a financial base wide enough to finance productions that cost up to $15 million like Fox Searchlight could without even having to ask for permission from 20th Century-Fox, its parent company.15 By the end of the 1990s and early 2000s there was so much “indie” product in the market that the label started losing its appeal. As Variety reported, “after a decade of inflated expectations met with erratic B.O. returns ‘indie’ has lost much of its rugged appeal. It’s become shorthand for movies that are small in concept, weren’t produced with the bottom line in mind and were released by companies that are going out of business.”16 But even if the label started losing its cache, and other appellations such as “niche” or “specialty” started being used instead, the existence of an exceptionally large number of exhibition platforms (including television channels that exclusively screen independent films such as the IFC Channel and the Sundance Channel) that are in constant need of product ensured that independent films were still business as usual. Despite being made in the late 1980s and before the watershed year of 1989, the production background of House of Games demonstrates a number of characteristics that anticipated the direction independent cinema took. Specifically, the film was produced by an independent company, Filmhaus, after the company secured financing (approximately $5–6 million) by an independent distributor, Orion Pictures.17 Orion raised the financing through the preselling of the distribution rights of the film (domestic cable and Pay TV, foreign theatrical, foreign video), in effect securing exhibition for a film with a first-time director, no stars, and no other selling point. To explain why this was not a fluke but part of the business practices of the most successful independent company of the 1980s, we need now to turn our attention to Orion Pictures. THE ORION PICTURES FACTOR Orion Pictures belongs to a particular group of distribution companies that competed with the established powers for much of the 1980s.18 Along with Cannon, the De Laurentis Entertainment Group, and Miramax, Orion Pictures entered the film business as a production company at a time when demand for feature films had been increasing due to the proliferation of distribution outlets, especially cable and video. The company was formed in 1978 by a group of ex–United Artists executives headed by Arthur Krim and Robert Benjamin who disagreed with the policies imposed by Transamerica, United Artists’ parent company. Almost immediately, Orion established a distribution deal with Warner who set up a $90 million financing arrangement

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for the newly formed company.19 The deal saw Orion becoming Warner’s (and Hollywood’s) first “satellite” film production company in the same way that Warner’s music division had a number of satellite labels (Warner/ Reprise, Atlantic, Elektra, and Asylum) under its orbit; labels that were autonomous in terms of management and creative decisions but that had to use Warner’s distribution apparatus to put their product in the market. Although the arrangement between Warner and Orion, with its substantial financing and its seemingly favorable terms, gave the five executives an excellent opportunity to re-enter the film business at a time when the average negative cost for a film was still relatively low, it nevertheless proved to be problematic for both partners. Questions of authority and control over Orion’s projects were raised even within the first six months of the partnership.20 Marketing and distribution, in particular, became a moot point in the two companies’ conduct of business as Warner had the ultimate say in such matters. Thus Orion-produced films with some box office potential did not manage to find an audience partly because of the way they were handled upon their release by the major, such as A Little Romance (G. R. Hill, 1979), a love story that featured Laurence Olivier and, especially, The Great Santini (L. J Carlino, 1979), a gritty drama with Robert Duvall that was released on three different occasions with modified marketing campaigns. Furthermore, Warner’s foreign distribution offices were empowered to veto the release of Orion’s films if they thought that they would not perform well in specific markets, which could deprive Orion of potential profits.21 Finally, and perhaps more importantly, Orion was not in a position to deliver Warner the stratospheric profits that the expensive, effects-laden, action/ adventure-oriented films were bringing to the other majors. With Orion’s line of credit set at $90 million, it was obvious that the company could not afford to make such films. As a matter of fact, Orion had to pass on Raiders of the Lost Ark (Spielberg, 1981) due to its high cost and the principal players’ demands from the film’s gross.22 As a result, the deal between the two companies lasted only four years (1978–1981). During the period, Orion produced 23 films for the major with only 2 box office hits, 10 (Edwards, 1979) and Arthur (Gordon, 1981).23 After the termination of the contract in 1981, Orion made the decision to venture into the distribution business by taking over Filmways, an independent distributor that had emerged through a merger between American International Pictures and Filmways in 1978. With a distribution apparatus in place and a library of more than 800 titles from Filmways that could be exploited in the video and cable markets, Orion proceeded to make a number of deals to raise production and marketing funds. Strictly adhering to a philosophy of minimum economic risks,24 the company started preselling the ancillary distribution rights of its upcoming films to a number of parties. These deals included an agreement with RCA/Columbia for foreign theatrical and

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video rights; with HBO for cable and pay-TV rights; with Vestron for home video rights; and agreements with foreign distributors, some of which were willing to buy the whole Orion roster of films (in the area of 8 to 12 films per year). With the receipts from theatrical distribution in the U.S. market and the funds from preselling the rights of its films in all other ancillary markets, Orion accumulated substantial capital to self-finance films for theater and television exhibition and therefore start competing directly with the majors. By early 1985 the company was in a position to finance and distribute at least one picture per month and, in the words of Eric Pleskow, the company’s president and CEO, “to be as voluminous a supplier of motion pictures to the world as any other company.”25 Arguably, the most important deal Orion made during the first half of the 1980s was with HBO. The spectacularly successful pay cable channel had already become one of Orion’s main stockholders when the latter went public, acquiring 8.5 percent of the company and providing the main financial pillar of Orion throughout the period from 1982 to 1985, which saw a series of deals between the two companies, bringing substantial capital to Orion.26 The partnership was further extended in February 1985 when HBO and Orion signed new deals according to which the former acquired the nonexclusive pay cable rights for the next 14 Orion films as well as the domestic home video rights to 40 films from Orion’s (ex-AIP, ex-Filmways) library. According to Variety, only the 1985 deals with HBO brought Orion funds within the region of $50–$75 million, bringing up the level of total revenue that the company generated from its partnership with HBO (since 1982) in excess of $150 million.27 As a result Orion was able to self-finance a record 17 pictures scheduled for release in 1986, including Mamet’s debut feature.28 Very early, Orion Pictures established a reputation for making “quality films,”29 for being “a sanctuary for creative filmmakers,”30 and for “nourishing chancy, low-budget properties.”31 If one takes a look at the Orion library of titles, one will find critically acclaimed films by Woody Allen (all his films from Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy [1982] to Shadows and Fogs [1992]), as well as Milos Forman’s Amadeus (1983), Francis Ford Coppola’s Cotton Club (1984), Alan Parker’s Mississippi Burning (1988), and Jonathan Demme’s Something Wild (1986) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991). One would also find Paul Verhoeven’s first American feature, Robocop (1987), Oliver Stone’s Platoon (1986) and Kevin Costner’s Oscar-ridden Dances with Wolves (1990). In 1987, Orion Pictures demonstrated a remarkable achievement for an independent company by capturing the largest share in the American film market.32 Three of its 1986 films, Platoon, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Hoosiers, received 18 Academy Award nominations collectively and shared 6 Oscars. Platoon’s domestic gross surpassed the $100 million benchmark, and the company invested bigger sums in its 1987–1988 releases. Furthermore, it established a new distribution arm for the American home video

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market (Orion Home Entertainment) and ventured in the television market with the very successful series Cagney and Lacey. Additionally, Orion Classics, a semiautonomous division Orion had set up in 1984 to distribute mostly nonU.S. films, had two big hits in Claude Berri’s Jean de Florette (1986) and Manon des Sources (1986), which together grossed $10 million in the U.S. box office. Orion, however, did not manage to repeat the success of 1987. Excessive spending (by the company’s standards) and a series of flops culminating in the extremely poor $459,000 gross of The House on Carroll Street (Yates, 1988) brought Orion back to a normal 4.2 percent in 1989 and 5.6 percent of the American film market share in 1990. The financial success of the 1990 western Dances with Wolves raised Orion’s stake to 8.5 percent in 1991.33 However, even though Orion Pictures managed to repeat the success of Costner’s film in 1991 with The Silence of the Lambs, a film that also scooped all five major Oscars in March 1992, it finally went bankrupt in November 1991. Its library of titles was subsequently bought by Kirk Kerkorian, already owner of the M-G-M and United Artists film libraries. This brief account of the history of Orion Pictures reveals certain interesting issues regarding the industrial/economic background of House of Games. The first important parameter is that the film was financed by a company that was considered to be friendly toward creative filmmakers and consequently thought to exercise minimum control over the creation process or, at least, less control compared to the traditional majors. As Mike Medavoy, Orion’s head of worldwide production, stated, Mamet’s “body of work as a playwright—Sexual Perversity in Chicago, American Buffalo and Glengarry Glen Ross —was reason enough for us to give him a shot at directing.”34 Secondly, it is clear that the film was produced during the most successful period of Orion’s history (1986–1987), a fact that potentially reinforced the degree of freedom Mamet enjoyed during the production of the film. Finally, through the distribution deals with HBO, RCA/Columbia, and various foreign distributors, Orion not only managed to provide the full budget for the film with zero financial risk for themselves but also to secure exhibition both in the United States and abroad for a feature with no established director or marketable stars. With global distribution and exhibition secure and with a financer–distributor not in the business of “interfering with the [production] process” the filmmaker was in a position to make the film according to his—very specific—vision and hence avoid potential compromises in creative decisions.35 Unlike filmmakers such as Jim Jarmusch, Joel and Ethan Coen, or Gus Van Sant, who retained creative control of their first movies through independent financing and sometimes self-distribution,36 Mamet managed to achieve this rare feat (for a $5 million production) within the independent structure of “Orion Pictures presents a Filmhaus production of a David Mamet film.”

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FIRST-TIME FILM DIRECTOR Prior to House of Games, Mamet had already achieved fame in Hollywood with two star vehicle scripts for big studios. The first was an adaptation of the James M. Cain novel The Postman Always Rings Twice (1934) for the Lorimar/M-G-M production of Bob Rafelson’s same-titled film (1981) with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange. The second script was also an adaptation, this time of Barry Reed’s novel The Verdict, for the Fox production of Sidney Lumet’s The Verdict (1982) with Paul Newman. Mamet was nominated for an Oscar for his work on the second script in the 1982–1983 Academy Awards. The critical and commercial success of these films and of a string of “off-Broadway” and foreign productions of some of his plays,37 which culminated in the presentation of the Pulitzer Prize for Best American Play to Glengarry Glen Ross in 1984, provided Mamet with substantial clout, which he subsequently used for achieving his objective, to make the transition from playwright and screenwriter to film director. In 1985, Mamet began to work on two scripts. One was an assignment for Paramount, The Untouchables (De Palma, 1987), loosely based on the successful television series of the same title. The second was a screenplay based on a short story written by himself and Jonathan Katz under the working title The Tell, which later became House of Games. His decision to direct the latter himself stemmed in many ways from a wish to retain the copyright of his written work in the medium of cinema. Accustomed to authorship rights in the terrain of theater, where he enjoyed a much greater fame, and as his screenwriting reputation was growing stronger, Mamet became more sensitive to the issue of defense of his intellectual property in his cinema career. In particular, the fate of Sexual Perversity in Chicago (1974), the first adaptation of one of his early plays, which hit the screens as About Last Night . . . (Zwick, 1986) and had very little to do with the themes and the spirit of his original play, provided the spark in Mamet’s desire to make the leap behind the camera.38 As Mamet put it in one of his essays: I have never been much good as a team player or employee, and it was difficult for me to adjust to a situation where “because I say so” was insufficient explanation. When you write for the stage, you retain the copyright. The work is yours and no one can change a word without your permission. When you write for the screen you are a laborer hired to turn out a product, and that product can be altered at the whim of those who employ you. (original italics)39

As his work on the script for The Untouchables continued and in the wake of creative differences with Art Linson and Brian De Palma (the screenwriter had submitted four drafts of the screenplay, but the producer and director of

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the film wanted further changes),40 Mamet’s interest in directing House of Games led him to reject packages that gave him the screenwriter’s credit but stipulated the appointment of an already established filmmaker to direct the film. These proposals mainly originated from big studios and included the complementary terms of a big-budget production and the signing of stars for the two central roles of Margaret and Mike.41 The studios’ reluctance to finance an expensive production headed by an individual who was driven by his wish to maintain control of his work as a writer can be mainly understood as a refusal to grant a first-time writer–director the final cut of the film, a condition that was nonnegotiable for Mamet. Mamet’s persistence in this issue, which, apart from his views about copyright, can be explained by the major role language plays in his plays and screenplays, essentially left him with one option, to finance and produce the film independently. This option generally entails certain fundamental characteristics that shape the production of a film in very specific ways, especially during the mid-1980s when independent production had started flourishing but had yet to reach the frenzy of the late 1980s and early 1990s. These characteristics include: low budget, unknown actors, financial insecurity, and often, no guaranteed distribution. Those features, however, are counterbalanced by the considerably higher degree of freedom a filmmaker enjoys as opposed to studio-controlled film production. It is not surprising then that Mamet chose to go independent because in his opinion “good moviemaking require[d] not conspicuous expenditure but disciplined imagination.”42 Mamet’s decision to reject studio packages and embrace independent filmmaking to maintain control of his written material paved the way for other playwright–screenwriters who also made the leap to directing. A year after Mamet, Sam Shepard’s first feature as a writer–director, the rural drama Far North (1988), was also produced independently (a collaboration between Circle JS Productions and Nelson Entertainment—the latter an independent production company specializing in horror films that had decided to branch out to prestige drama) and distributed by Alive Films, a short-lived distributor of the 1980s. Shepard chose a similar arrangement for his second (and for the time being last) directorial effort, the western Silent Tongue (1994), which was produced as a collaborative project by three independent companies (Mire, Belbo Films, and the French Canal+) and distributed by Trimark Pictures, a company in the mold of Orion that went out of business in 2000 and whose library of titles is now controlled by the largest contemporary independent production and distribution company in U.S. cinema, Lions Gate Entertainment. Equally, Neil La Bute, the only American playwright besides Mamet with a significant filmmaking career, had his first film, the controversial drama In the Company of Men (1997), produced independently (by Canadian-based Alliance Atlantis) and distributed by Sony Pictures Classics, the classics division

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that has traditionally enjoyed the largest degree of autonomy from its parent company, Sony Pictures.43 More generally, for writer–directors who wanted to retain creative control over their films, independent filmmaking was the only option, and Mamet’s deal with Orion and Filmhaus became a formula that was copied in the future. A FILMHAUS PRODUCTION OF A DAVID MAMET FILM The independent producer whom Mamet approached with the script for House of Games was Michael Hausman. Until 1986, and via his company Filmhaus, Hausman had been associated with a variety of films spanning from key independently financed and released features such as Alambrista! (Young, 1977) and Heartland (Pearce, 1980) to independently produced but studio-financed and distributed films such as Mikey and Nicky (May, 1976) and Places in the Heart (Benton, 1984). Hausman’s credits, furthermore, extended to other areas of film production such as production manager in The Heartbreak Kid (May, 1972) and as second unit or assistant director in films such as Rich Kids (Young, 1979), Hair (Forman, 1979), Silkwood (Nichols, 1984), and Desert Bloom (Corr, 1986). Hausman’s experience in the film production business and his knowledge of the craft of filmmaking were instrumental in Mamet’s attempt as a firsttime director. As Mamet himself has documented in one of his essays, Hausman was the driving force behind the organization of the film’s production. Strictly adhering to the axiom “all mistakes are made in preproduction,”44 the producer ensured the smooth operation of the film’s production by planning carefully the stage of principal cinematography and by developing a close working relationship with the director.45 Hausman also received another credit in the film as a second assistant director, helping Mamet with the technical aspect of the film, an aspect to which Mamet admitted complete ignorance prior to shooting House of Games.46 Furthermore, Hausman secured financing and distribution by making a deal with Orion Pictures who advanced the money by preselling the film’s rights to a cable distributor (Home BoxOffice) and to foreign theatrical distributors on an individual basis.47 Although the role of Michael Hausman was fundamental in these areas of the production of House of Games, further evidence suggests that the film’s mode of production was not a clear instance of the package-unit system that typified Hollywood cinema since the 1950s. According to this system of film production: A producer organised a film project: he or she secured financing and combined the necessary laborers (whose roles had been previously defined by

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the standardised production structure and subdivision of work categories) and the means of production (the narrative property, the equipment and the physical sites of production).48

Even though Hausman’s work in securing financing and arranging the means of production generally conforms to this definition of the package, there are certain elements—specific to the production—that indicate transgressions from this definition. This is especially at the level of the division of labor and the role of the director in the overall organization of the production. Before discussing the exact nature of those transgressions and the ways they have shaped the production of the film, we need to examine the properties of the House of Games package. The main ingredients of the package, gathered by Hausman, included the director, his script, the organization of production by Filmhaus (which also supplied the lower echelon workers for the film), and the complete financing of the project by Orion. However, within this structure, there was a second “mini-package” put together by Mamet that included the more creative aspects of the production such as the actors, the music composer, the set designer, and the costume designer, all previous collaborators on his work in the theater.49 This type of arrangement has not been a rare phenomenon in low-budget productions, as the director is normally bestowed with the power to select the principal players provided that he or she remains within the allocated budget. Furthermore, there has been a long-standing tradition in independent (and often studio) filmmaking where a director has worked with the same players in film after film. From John Cassavetes who employed actors Gena Rowland, Peter Falk, Seymour Cassel, and Ben Gazzara; editor Tom Cornwell; cinematographer Al Ruban; and composer Bo Harwood in a series of films he wrote and directed to more recent independent filmmakers such as Kevin Smith who used actors Ben Affleck, Jason Lee, and Jason Mewes; composer David Pirner; production designer Robert Holtzman; and editor–producer Scott Mosier in the majority of his films, the independent sector is full of examples of filmmakers who work consistently with a small and trusted circle of friends and collaborators. What makes House of Games interesting in this respect, however, was that the majority of Mamet’s key collaborators had very little or, in many cases, no experience whatsoever in filmmaking prior to House of Games, despite years of experience in theater production, particularly in producing Mamet’s plays since the 1970s. Specifically, the music composer, the production designer, and the costume designer of the film had never worked in cinema before Mamet’s first film. Also, actors such as W. H. Macy, Mike Nussbaum, and J. T. Walsh had previously appeared only in a handful of film productions, whilst other actors in key parts such as Ricky Jay (the man from Vegas) and Steve Goldstein (Billy Hahn) made their cinema debut in House of Games.

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Additionally, and following traditions in American theater (and in independent cinema), some of the players took on more than one role in the production of the film, such as Scott Zigler and Patricia Wolff who are credited as actors and production assistants, Ricky Jay who is credited as actor and consultant in confidence games, and, of course, Michael Hausman, who is credited as producer and second assistant director. This second mini-package functioned as an ensemble, an intricately linked group of creative units whose contribution to the production and aesthetics of the film is far greater than the sum of individual contributions. This suggests that the division of labor during the production of the film did not follow the strict hierarchy that has traditionally characterized the mode of production of mainstream Hollywood films. The transgression in the division of labor from the dominant model does not imply that there was no pecking order in the production process or that Mamet, as the film’s director, did not have the final say in such questions as frame composition or editing. Rather, it demonstrates that the creative aspect of the film’s production was, more forcefully than is usual, shaped by the dynamics of a group of players whose long-time collaboration on stage under Mamet’s tutelage influenced both the nature of the division of labor in the upper ranks of the film’s production and eventually the aesthetics of the film. In transferring distinct practices from stage to film production and assimilating these to traditions of independent filmmaking, Mamet demonstrated that, unlike Hollywood mainstream cinema, which is considerably more resistant to “foreign” influences, independent cinema is a mode of filmmaking that is open to influences from other media and modes of productions (such as theater and the working methods of theater companies). In this respect, Mamet’s success in assimilating his theater-originating methods of work to independent cinema’s tradition of filmmakers working with a small circle of friends and collaborators in film after film paved the way for the introduction of further outside influences that made American independent cinema even richer in terms of the directions it could follow. A characteristic example here is Kevin Smith, who burst into the independent scene only a few years after Mamet and introduced an equally distinct mode of filmmaking. As noted earlier, Smith also worked with a small circle of friends and collaborators who have participated in most of his films. In this case, such a system of production has provided the filmmaker with the freedom to create a distinct filmic universe that exists across all his films and that is realized through relentless cross-referencing of characters, narrative events, and “in-jokes” from all his films. This practice reached a remarkable extent in 2004 with his film Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back, which contained so many references to his previous films that lack of prior knowledge of Clerks (1994), Mallrats (1996), Chasing Amy (1997), and Dogma (1999) can render Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back incomprehensible. With other independent

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filmmakers importing new ideas and practices (Smith’s inspiration for such a universe was the medium of comic books), one can only expect that American independent cinema will continue to be a locus of innovative trends that expand the language of cinema. THE “MAMET AESTHETIC” House of Games tells the story of Dr. Margaret Ford (Lindsay Crouse), a clinical psychologist who, in her attempt to help one of her patients, becomes involved in a series of adventures with a gang of con artists led by Mike (Joe Mantegna). Although Margaret believes that she has been allowed access to the planning and execution of one of the gang’s elaborate tricks to fleece an unsuspected businessman, she finally comes to understand that it was she who had been the “mark” of the con all along. The film ends with Margaret’s violent reaction to the realization that she had been “played” by the con artists and her recognition of a surprising truth about herself. This narrative premise functioned as a vehicle for the articulation of a number of distinct themes, which characterized Mamet’s previous work as a playwright and which include: the destiny of the lumpen proletariat in corporate America, the education of the innocent, the dynamics of the teacher–student relationship, the meaning of everyday transactions, and the truth behind deceptive appearances.50 More importantly, however, this narrative premise was mainly realized through the use of a specific set of stylistic choices whose particular combinations signaled the beginning of a distinct aesthetic view that came to permeate all future Mamet films. This view can be seen as a product of an amalgamation of theoretical concepts and ideas that stem from Mamet’s readings of the Aristotelian concept of narrative unity, the Eisensteinian theory of montage, the Stanislavskian notion of physical acting, and the assimilation of the last to particular patterns of speech delivery by Mamet’s actors. These were developed by Mamet and a group of theater actors and practitioners, many of whom are present in the credits of House of Games. More specifically, Mamet’s distinct aesthetic view relies upon a use of film style that sits uneasily with the notion of classicism in American cinema. This is because, although narrative construction in Mamet’s films follows for the most part the basic principles of classical narrative (causal coherence, continuity, and character motivation), it often departs from those principles and follows a logic of its own. These departures are mainly manifest in several clear breaks from the rules of social and/or cultural verisimilitude, which immediately provide the story with a high degree of implausibility compared to a classical narrative. Equally, the film style employed to support such a narrative generally adheres to the rules of continuity and transparency, though, on several occasions, it also breaks those rules and consequently evokes a

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strong sense of constructedness and/or artificiality. These effects are mainly conveyed through the frequent absence of realist conventions in parts of the film’s mise-en-scène, including frame composition, camera movement, and editing. For this reason, although the film style is at the service of the narrative, it also comments on the narrative and breaks the spectator’s engagement with the story in ways that a classical style would never do. This paradoxical (for an American film) relation between narrative and style has its roots in Mamet’s view of realism as a discourse that should seek to “express” rather than to “convince.”51 For Mamet, style should be used to serve the aesthetic integrity of the film, which is not necessarily constructed according to externally imposed standards of realism and verisimilitude.52 What Mamet seems to object to here is the use of a film style that does not “respect” the central idea of the film as it is put forward by the written text, which, of course, explains the filmmaker’s stern opposition to any changes made to his scripts. As Joe Mantegna stated in an interview: “He [Mamet] has painstakingly, specifically created his dialogue to get whatever impact he expects to get out of it. . . . 99 times out of 100 I’ve done everything he’s written as written.”53 More importantly, however, Mamet’s objection stands as a powerful critique of a stylistically determined mode of film practice such as the mainstream classical Hollywood cinema. Given the fact that the classical Hollywood cinema favors a specific use of film style that serves a particularly constructed narrative and a mode of production that has traditionally treated the screenplay as work-in-progress and excluded the screenwriter from the stages of film production and postproduction, it is obvious that Mamet’s approach to filmmaking stands firmly outside such a mode of film practice. This is the reason why Mamet’s style strikes critics as artificial and unnatural, despite the fact that it is organically connected to narratives that are often contrived and implausible. Mamet’s distinct approach to filmmaking and his refusal to comply with pillars of classical filmmaking in House of Games (but also in his later films such as Homicide [1991], Oleanna [1994], The Spanish Prisoner [1997], The Winslow Boy [1998], and State and Main [2000]) locate him firmly at the core of the independent sector of American cinema, at a time when independent cinema was gathering momentum before the “watershed” year of 1989. It is important then to acknowledge his contribution during the “lean” years of American independent cinema and to place the distinct formal and aesthetic propositions his films made alongside ones made by other important parental figures of “indie” filmmaking, such as John Sayles, Jim Jarmusch, Wayne Wang, Spike Lee, Victor Nunez, and Gus Van Sant. Furthermore Mamet’s focus on narratives about grifters and confidence tricks reinvigorated a type of film that had been popularized in the 1970s and early 1980s with The Sting (G. R. Hill, 1973) and The Sting II (Kagan,

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1983). Following Mamet’s House of Games, a number of similar films were made, almost all paying homage to Mamet and almost all by independent companies.54 These include: Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988) distributed by Orion; The Grifters (Frears, 1990) distributed by Cineplex ODEON; Traveller (J. N. Green, 1997) distributed by October Films; Mamet’s second con artist film The Spanish Prisoner (Sony Pictures Classics); Where the Money Is (Kanievska, 2000) distributed by USA Films; Confidence (Foley, 2003) distributed by Lions Gate Films; and Criminal (Jacobs, 2004) distributed by Warner Independent Pictures. A brief discussion of a scene from House of Games will demonstrate Mamet’s distinct aesthetic vision, highlight the film’s almost anticlassical aesthetics, and illustrate its status as a con artist film. A HOUSE FULL OF GAMES OR “THAT’S WHAT YOU THOUGHT YOU SAW” After a patient of hers threatens to commit suicide because he can’t pay a large gambling debt and therefore the gangster (Mike) whom he owns the money to would sooner or later kill him, Dr. Margaret Ford breaks the codes of her profession and goes herself to the debt holder to convince him to leave her patient alone. As it turns out, Mike (the gangster) is not as tough as Billy had implied and is willing to forget Billy’s debt, provided that Margaret would help him beat one of his opponents in a card game in-progress. What Margaret has to do is pretend that she is Mike’s girlfriend and look for a specific signifier in his opponent’s behavior during the game, a “tell,” as Mike puts it, that would signal whether his opponent is bluffing or not. Margaret accepts Mike’s offer and joins him in the back room where some serious money is at stake in a game of poker.55 During the previous scene, however, the spectator finds out that Billy’s debt to Mike is a mere $800, a piece of information that Margaret, rather implausibly, misses. This consequently implies that there are other latent reasons for Margaret’s direct involvement with Mike and his company, reasons that have to do with her compulsive, and therefore not clearly motivated, character. While the spectator has formed the expectation that Margaret, the proficient psychologist, will catch the tell and be instrumental to Mike’s objective to beat his opponent from Vegas and consequently achieve her own goal (protect her client), editing and narration play a number of tricks to the spectator. In the early parts of the scene the man from Vegas is strictly framed either between Mike and Margaret who occupy the two sides of the frame or in the corner of individual frames, “surrounded” by the other card players. Such stylistic choices and the way the compositions are edited suggest that the man from Vegas is “trapped,” and there is no way that he can come out as the winner of the game.

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In latter parts of the scene, however, editing and narration seem to suggest a different outcome for the game. This time the man from Vegas takes a central position in the frame, and it is Mike and Margaret who are isolated from the group and play “against” them. The compositional isolation of Mike and Margaret from the other players juxtaposed with the central position of the man from Vegas (who is now the character spatially “supported” by the other present characters) shifts the balance to his favor and prepares the spectator, who is still expecting that Margaret will help Mike win the hand, for a narrative surprise. When the man from Vegas wins the hand, the first subsequent shot is of Mike and Margaret shocked from the defeat. Slowly, Mike leans backwards and ends up off screen leaving Margaret alone in the frame, totally isolated from the rest of the card players. The relation of this shot to the previous group of shots seems to suggest that Margaret is responsible for their defeat, a piece of narrative information that stands at odds with what the spectator has previously witnessed, namely, Margaret following Mike’s instructions and catching his opponent’s tell. Finally, two subsequent shots of two card players who are peripheral to the story seem to create an idea that ends up informing the rest of the film. Even though the narrative value of both these minor characters is too insignificant to suggest that those two shots connote a particular idea,56 the equal duration of the shots (2.5 seconds each) and, especially, the highly stylized nature of the compositions (both shots were filmed with wideangle lenses that distort the distance between camera and object; both shots were photographed from unusual camera angles while also there is a lack of background diegetic sound at that point), along with the break they introduce to the pattern of the scene, provide them with an added value for the spectator’s understanding of the real meaning of the scene. The two shots come to reinforce the idea of a set up, of a constructed reality that Margaret is shortly to discover and the spectator is invited to discover at that exact moment. In light of discovering the true meaning of this scene as a set up to con Margaret out of her money and not as a trap to trick the man from Vegas (as both the main character and the spectator originally thought), one can begin to understand Mamet’s use of style in House of Games as a means to visually support an idea, namely, that the development of the narrative does not occur through the actions of a psychologically motivated protagonist who wishes to achieve a goal. In other words, film style is used to negate the unfolding of a “classical” narrative and to imply the existence of a second, more powerful, and up to that point, latent narrative agent whose goals, at the last instance, frame the actions of the main protagonist. This narrative agent is eventually concretely personified in the characters of the con men (and in particular the character of Mike) but only in the final scenes of the film.

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Furthermore, throughout the poker game sequence the rules of cultural verisimilitude are broken repeatedly demonstrating further the very specific logic Mamet’s story follows. Even if the spectator does not have any knowledge or experience of card-playing, he/she should be in a position to question the plausibility of several events that take place in the scene. Thus, the fact that Mike nods to Margaret that he is holding three aces (after spending considerable time explaining to her what a tell is) is the first clue that this is not a “real” game. Later on, Mike reveals his cards without covering the bet (if accepted, the check should have been written in advance and placed in the pot). After threatening Mike and Margaret with a pistol, the man from Vegas puts the weapon down on the table (running of course the danger of having the pistol taken by any one of the other players). In the midst of all this, Joey watches calmly the whole incident from a distance and is not ordered to move to a place where he can be visible to the man from Vegas. All the above actions clearly deny any sense of verisimilitude in the scene. Mamet also makes a number of other stylistic choices that succeed in discarding the armor of an externally imposed realism from the film. The most obvious one is the staging of confidential information “within earshot of characters who don’t hear them.”57 For instance, Mike tells Margaret to keep looking for his opponents tell while sitting opposite him at the poker table; Margaret tells Mike that she caught the tell while standing only a few feet away from the man from Vegas; and so forth. Rosenbaum has rightly argued that Mamet uses conventions of theater space, which, unlike the usual conventions of filmic space, allow such staging of conversations. The poker game sequence is a blueprint for understanding the rest of the film as the events depicted in this scene are replicated in a much more elaborate way throughout the rest of the film. Thus, in this scene, Margaret agrees to play Mike’s girlfriend to help him fleece the man from Vegas and discovers that she was the actual mark of the con. In the rest of the fi lm, Margaret agrees to play Mike’s wife to help him con a businessman only to discover that she was the mark of the con once again, only this time Margaret does not realize it until after handing them over $250,000 of her savings. House of Games did not prove the commercial success Orion, Filmhaus, and David Mamet might have hoped. The film grossed $2,585,639 at the U.S. box office, which means that it did not manage to recoup its negative costs. The failure of the film could partly be explained by the distributor’s decision to center the advertising campaign for the film on Mamet’s transition from a writer to a filmmaker, while also highlighting the film’s generic status as a tense noir thriller. Opting for such an approach the distributor directly targeted audiences familiar with Mamet’s theatre and literary background rather than dedicated cine-philes who patronize art cinemas and watch lowbudget indie films. For instance, in the film’s trailer there is no reference to Mamet’s Oscar nomination for The Verdict or his association with The Postman Always Rings Twice, both commercially successful films.58

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Despite its commercial failure, however, House of Games did its job in introducing Mamet the filmmaker in American cinema, and in the following years, the once full-time playwright and screenwriter made the transition to a full-time filmmaker with nine feature films in 20 years, the vast majority of them low-budget independent productions (Mamet still writes plays but at a much slower pace than in the 1970s and 1980s). Furthermore, the film’s independent status, primarily exemplified by the financer/distributor’s “hands-off ” approach to creative decisions during the production process and its ability to guarantee complete financing and global distribution and exhibition for the film allowed Mamet to transport his distinct dramatic approach from theater to the medium of cinema and therefore maintain his idiosyncratic “voice,” which had made him one of the most important contemporary American playwrights, in a different medium. In terms of production practices, this creative freedom manifested mainly in the way the division of labor was arranged at the top echelon of the production crew. This is where a number of creative players were allowed a much more significant input in the production process, to the extent that the term collaborative business (a term that normally—and ironically—designates a strictly hierarchical and detailed division of labor in Hollywood cinema) was put into question. For that reason, the film’s mode of production can be seen as different from the production mode that, according to Bordwell, Staiger, and Thompson, has exemplified historically mainstream classical American cinema. CONCLUSION In many ways, the production history of House of Games points toward the name of the game in the post-1989 years when major independent distributors such as Miramax and New Line Cinema, the classics divisions, and larger independent distributors such as Lions Gate have followed Orion’s steps and have institutionalized American independent cinema. From the independent “movement” in the early 1980s, which consisted of a small group of films per year, American independent cinema has now become a relatively distinct category of filmmaking both in the global entertainment industry and in public discourse.59 With the existing distribution companies branching out into financing independent productions alongside the more traditional buying of distribution rights of completed films, Orion’s impact is evident. This is even more so when companies such as Miramax and New Line recently invested in multimillion dollar productions such as Shakespeare in Love (Madden, 1998—$24 million budget), Confessions of A Dangerous Mind (Clooney, 2000—$35 million budget); and The Four Feathers ($80 million budget) all three for Miramax, and The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Jackson, 2002–2004) for New Line Cinema, in the same way that Orion gambled with the expensive revisionist western Dances with Wolves in 1990.60

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The institutionalization of American independent cinema has succeeded in making a particular brand of filmmaking marketable at a global level and in effect helped a very large number of personal, idiosyncratic, and offbeat films receive theatrical distribution and often find an audience. And as Orion allowed a filmmaker such as David Mamet to make films with a very particular anticlassical aesthetic that goes against fundamental Hollywood rules, other independent distributors took chances with films that pushed the envelope in terms of aesthetics and representations often getting into uncharted territory. Thus, Miramax allowed filmmakers such as Kevin Smith to make films such as Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (2001), which has so many references to other Smith films that it might prove incomprehensible to audiences with no prior knowledge of Smith’s previous films. After seeing it at Sundance, independent distributor Artisan (now part of Lions Gate) purchased the rights to The Blair Witch Project (Myrick and Sánchez 1999), a horror-home moviein-the-woods shot with a digital camera that had little chances of a commercial theatrical release; the film, a spectacular success, proved well worth the risk. And Focus Features, Universal’s classics division, financed and distributed Ang Lee’s controversial Brokeback Mountain (2005), a modern-day western featuring gay cowboys, a taboo subject in the genre as defined by the films of the majors. Whether major independents, independents, or classics divisions, in the financing, production, and/or distribution business, these companies have managed to create an institutional apparatus that differs from the one that characterizes mainstream Hollywood cinema. Despite the differences, though, this apparatus has existed in a symbiotic relationship with the majors, making for a well-oiled entertainment machine that covers all audience tastes and preferences. NOTES 1. Geoff King, American Independent Cinema (London: I. B. Tauris, 2005), 71; Emanuel Levy, Cinema of Outsiders: The Rise of American Independent Film (New York: New York University Press, 1999), 46; Peter Biskind, Down and Dirty Pictures: Miramax, Sundance and the Rise of Independent Film (London: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2005), 17. 2. Yannis Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006), 13. 3. Gabriel Synder, “ ‘Aviator’ Ready For Take-Off: Scorsese, DiCaprio Reteam for Pricey Hughes Biopic,” Variety, June 9, 2005, 9. 4. Levy, Cinema of Outsiders, 3. 5. Yannis Tzioumakis, “Major Status—Independent Spirit: The History of Orion Pictures (1978–1992),” The New Review of Film and Television Studies 2, no. 1 (2004): 88.

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6. Patrick McGilligan, “Breaking Away Mogul Style,” American Film 5, no. 8 (1980): 29. 7. David Bordwell, Janet Staiger, and Kristin Thompson, The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960 (London: McGraw-Hill, 1985), 360. 8. Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema, 10. 9. Tino Balio, “Introduction to Part I: Responding to Network Television,” in Hollywood in the Age of Television, ed. Tino Balio (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990), 7. 10. Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema, 5. 11. Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema, 223. 12. Jim Hillier, The New Hollywood (New York: Continuum, 1994), 22; Tino Balio, “Introduction to Part II: Responding to New Television Technologies,” in Hollywood in the Age of Television, ed. Tino Balio (London: Unwin Hyman, 1990), 281. 13. Justin Wyatt, “The Formation of the ‘major independent’: Miramax, New Line and the New Hollywood,” in Contemporary Hollywood Cinema, ed. Steve Neale and Murray Smith (London: Routledge, 1998), 86–87. 14. Stephen, Klain, “Prods over-value US art mart: Classics eye upfront stakes as terms stiffen,” Variety, May 4, 1983, 532. 15. Claude Brodesser, “Fox: A Brighter Searchlight,” Variety, April 7, 2003, 55. 16. Dana Harris, “H’wood Renews Niche Pitch: Studios Add Fresh Spin as They Rev Up ‘Art’ Divisions,” Variety, April 7, 2003, 1, 54. 17. The only source that estimates the size of the film’s budget is Cinebooks Motion Picture Guide Review (a database of reviews available in Microsoft’s Cinemania CDROM, 1996 and 1997). 18. The brief account of Orion is based on a more extended piece I wrote on the history of the company, titled “Major Status—Independent Spirit: The History of Orion Pictures (1978–1992).” See Tzioumakis, “Major Status,” 87–135. 19. Anne Thompson, “Rise and Shine: Mike Medavoy Interviewed by Anne Thompson,” Film Comment 23, no. 3 (1987): 56. 20. Mike Medavoy with Josh Young, You’re Only As good As Your Next One: 100 Great Films, 100 Good Films, and 100 for Which I Should Be Shot (New York: Pocket Books, 2002), 103. 21. Erik Pleskow (President and Chief Executive Officer of Orion Pictures [1978– 1990] and chairman of Orion Pictures [1990–1992]), interview with the author, June 24, 2005, Weston, Connecticut. 22. Mike Medavoy (Head of Worldwide Production, Orion Pictures [1978–1990]), interview with the author, June 15, 2004, Los Angeles, California. 23. Besides the two Dudley Moore vehicles, which recorded $37 and $42 million in terms of film rentals, respectively, Orion delivered 6 moderate hits (including Excalibur [Boorman, 1981]), while the company saw 15 films that lost money at the American box office. See S. Hanson, “Orion: Looking to the Stars,” Stills, February 1985, 25. 24. Balio, “Introduction to Part II,” 278. 25. “HBO & Orion Still Going Steady As Paycabler Picks Up 14 Films; Homevideo in $50–75 mil Deal,” Variety, February 27, 1985, 44. 26. “HBO & Orion Still Going Steady,” 44.

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27. “HBO & Orion Still Going Steady,” 44. 28. Thompson, “Rise and Shine,” 60. 29. Hillier, The New Hollywood, 14. 30. Clarence Brown, “Down the Drain with the Ninja Turtles: Hollywood’s Last Creative Sanctuary Has Fallen to the Vultures,” The Guardian, February 6, 1992, 29. 31. McGilligan, “Breaking Away,” 31. 32. Richard Maltby with Ian Craven, Hollywood Cinema: An Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995), 481. 33. Hillier, The New Hollywood, 21. 34. Medavoy, You’re Only As good As Your Next One, 169. 35. McGilligan, “Breaking Away,” 29. 36. John Pierson, Spike Mike Slackers and Dykes: A Guided Tour Across a Decade of American Independent Cinema (New York: Hyperion/Miramax Books, 1995), 339 – 40. 37. Those hits included Glengarry Glen Ross (1983) at the National Theatre in London and at the Golden Theater in New York (1984), The Frog Prince (1985) at the Ensemble Studio in New York, and Edmond (1984) at the Royal Court Theatre in London. See Leslie Kane, “Chronology,” in David Mamet: A Casebook, ed. Leslie Kane (Garland Publishing: New York, 1992), xxxiii–xxxv. 38. As one critic poignantly noted, “the film, a loose adaptation of Mamet’s circular, fragmentary and acerbic play of the 1970s sexuality, smooths the rough edges into a linear 1980s narrative of capitalist redemption, in which a disaffected young Chicagoan finds affluence and romance through suffering repentence [sic] and entrepreneurial hard work. Indeed, the transfiguration of Mamet’s play is so drastic as to call into question the notion of adaptation itself.” Varun Begley, “On Adaptation: David Mamet and Hollywood,” Essays in Theatre 16, no. 2 (1998): 166–67. 39. David Mamet, A Whore’s Profession: Notes and Essays (London: Faber and Faber, 1994), 162. 40. David Mamet, Some Freaks (London: Faber and Faber, 1990), 136. 41. Roger Ebert, “House of Games,” Chicago Suntimes, October 16, 1987, http://rogere bert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19871016/REVIEWS/7101 60301/1023 (accessed February 13, 2008). 42. David Mamet, Jafsie and John Henry: Essays on Hollywood, Bad Boys and Six Hours of Perfect Poker (London: Faber and Faber, 2000), 98. 43. According to Variety, Sony Pictures Classics is one classics division the heads of which have employment contracts with their parent company that “give them autonomy over business decisions.” Christopher Grove, “Crouching Indie,” Variety, May 14, 2001, 35. 44. Mamet, Some Freaks, 125. 45. Mamet, Some Freaks, 127–28. 46. Mamet, Some Freaks, 119. 47. Since there is no available public documentation of the deal in question, this conclusion has been inferred by cross-referencing three main sources: Hillier, The New Hollywood, 21; Balio, “Introduction to Part II,” 278; and Thompson, “Rise and Shine,” 58–59. 48. Bordwell et al., The Classical Hollywood Cinema, 331. 49. Mamet, Some Freaks, 140.

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50. Besides his plays, these themes can be found in the five volumes of collected essays Mamet has published: Writing in Restaurants (London: Penguin Books, 1987); Some Freaks (1990); The Cabin: Reminiscence and Diversions (New York: Vintage Books, 1993); Make-Believe Town: Essays and Remembrances (London: Faber and Faber, 1996); Jafsie and John Henry (2000). These themes can be also seen in a number of interviews Mamet has given, some of which could be found in Leslie Kane, ed., David Mamet in Conversation (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2001). 51. Mamet, Some Freaks, 64. 52. Mamet, A Whore’s Profession, 202. 53. Leslie Kane, “Mantegna Acting Mamet,” American Theatre 8, no. 6 (1991): 23. 54. The one exception is Matchstick Men (2004), which was directed by Ridley Scott and was financed and distributed by Warner. 55. The phrase “That’s what you thought you saw” is uttered in the diegesis by Joey when he explains to Margaret that the fact that she saw him slipping $20 in an envelope does not mean that he actually did it. 56. Throughout the sequence these two characters are heard only when clichéd phrases are uttered (such as “I’m going south” and “cards of the players, three good players”) a fact that further decreases their importance in the scene. As I mentioned previously, however, they are important in terms of their placement within the frames. 57. Jonathan Rosenbaum, “House of Games Capsule,” The Chicago Reader, http:// onfilm.chicagoreader.com/movies/capsules/10149_HOUSE_OF_GAMES (accessed February 13, 2008). 58. Yannis Tzioumakis, “Marketing David Mamet: Institutionally Assigned Authorship and Contemporary American Cinema,” The Velvet Light Trap 57 (2006): 62– 63. 59. Tzioumakis, American Independent Cinema, 270. 60. Biskind, Down and Dirty Pictures, 330, 450, 464.

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chapter 10

Piercing Steven Soderbergh’s Bubble R. Colin Tait

In 2004, a major controversy erupted in Hollywood after filmmaker Steven Soderbergh signed a six-picture deal with billionaire entrepreneur Mark Cuban’s HDNet films. The project involved Soderbergh making low-budget movies exclusively with high-definition (HD) technology that would enjoy simultaneous release in theaters on DVD and were available to download via the Internet, thus entirely eliminating the exhibition window for a film’s theatrical release. This gesture not only leveled a flurry of criticism at the filmmaker as well as Cuban, but their enterprise ultimately met with mixed results, barely making a dent at the box office and hardly registering in Soderbergh’s canon. The controversy surrounding Bubble (2006) raises several questions. The first of these relates to why studios and exhibitors were so violently opposed to a shift in exhibition paradigms and went as far as to rally Hollywood executives and prominent filmmakers (such as M. Night Shyamalan) to denounce Cuban and Soderbergh’s enterprise. Furthermore, is it possible that the film’s slow roll-out over several film festivals, in addition to the negative publicity it garnered along the way, largely influenced the way that the experiment was received and largely factored into its commercial reception? Finally, despite the film’s status as a “failed experiment,” it is nevertheless crucial that we situate Bubble as a properly historical document and examine the film’s resonance not only to contemporary film culture but to the future industrial trends it anticipates and likely embodies. At the 2004 Toronto International Film Festival, the unlikely trio of billionaire Mark Cuban, his business partner Todd Wagner, and filmmaker Seven Soderbergh held a press conference to announce their new enterprise

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together. That there was another announcement at North America’s leading business festival—where more films are bought and sold than any other— was not surprising, but the content of the announcement was. It sent reverberations of fear and uncertainty through the industry for the next several years. Cuban and Wagner had signed Steven Soderbergh to a long-term deal in order to secure his services for the launch of several related enterprises: the Landmark theater chain, recently acquired by Cuban; the HDNet television channel; and Magnolia pictures. Soderbergh’s Bubble would effectively brand the venture, bringing his high-profile status to the mixture of independently financed HD filmmaking (as opposed to studio projects such as Michael Mann’s Miami Vice or Brian Singer’s Superman Returns, both shot in HD and both costing $135 million and $270 million, respectively) along with an appropriately smaller scale of artistic ambition and distribution model.1 The three figures shared the belief that the contemporary industry structure was broken beyond repair by excessive overhead costs, piracy, and consumer demand for instantaneous content, particularly on the lower-end and independent side of the distribution equation. Day-and-date release, then, offering the consumer the ultimate choice of venue, was their unique solution to this problem. What they could not have predicted was the overwhelming and virulent resistance to their scheme —the uniformity of objection related to the absolute collapse of the exhibition window—as Bubble would be released simultaneously in Cuban’s theaters, be made available on DVD through his nascent video exhibition arm Magnolia Pictures, and also available for download in the coming days by way of the Internet. The idea created a firestorm of industry resistance before the project was even underway and mostly from the exhibition side of the equation. M. Night Shyamalan helped inspire a negative buzz for Bubble, first denouncing the film at the 2005 Director’s Guild of America Feature Director’s night dinner and raising the stakes even higher when he followed up these comments as the invited speaker for the 2006 ShowWest convention for exhibitors. Here, Shyamalan defended the studios and exhibitors’ position, stating: We have these business guys coming in, many of whom haven’t been part of the industry, saying, “This is how it’s gonna be.” And then you had a few (directors’) voices in support of the experiment. And I went “whoa, whoa, whoa—this is sacred to me. I’m not gonna let the theatrical experience just go away like this.” I made it clear that night that we’re all losing faith and that we don’t have to stand by and let this art form be rolled over.2

Shyamalan’s stance was obviously echoed by the American exhibitors, who presumably had the most to lose with any shift in distribution patterns. As exhibition revenue relies almost solely on filling seats for high-profile blockbusters and selling consumers popcorn, this was obviously the most resistant

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faction that day-and-date release offended.3 In response, the larger exhibition chains such as Regal Entertainment Group, AMC Theatres, Loews Cineplex, and Cinemark USA boycotted 2929 and Magnolia products (also owned by Cuban and Wagner) adopting a “zero-tolerance” stance on Cuban and Wagner’s releases.4 On the studio side, other executives lined up to denounce the idea, including those who had worked with Soderbergh at Warner Brothers. Throughout the movie industry, CEOs and filmmakers criticized Soderbergh and his backers by wholly objecting to their new scheme. At the heart of the issue was the fact that the movie, along with the industrial formulation that it represented, had the potential to disrupt the business model that had been operating for years, in effect undermining the entrenched system. The studios, slow to accept any deviation from the industry norms—as exemplified from their slow acceptance of sound technology in the days of early cinema through to today’s new technological rollouts, which include video game consoles such as Microsoft’s X-Box 360 and Sony’s Playstation 3, not to mention the effect of viewership lost to iPod technologies and bittorrent software—retrenched themselves and brought the full force of their media and industry control to bear on the trio. In other words, it may be that the industry resistance played itself out through its ancillary industries, particularly in the media outlets owned by the larger studios, which essentially created the consensus view of Soderbergh’s, Cuban’s, and Wagner’s enterprise before anyone had even seen the film. Though the connections between Cuban, the rogue billionaire and flamboyant owner of the Dallas Mavericks who established his fortunes during the high-tech boom of the 1990s, and Steven Soderbergh, the man who became independent cinema’s de facto poster boy, were not initially clear; the two figures shared similar outsider statuses, affording them to be innovators, while at the same time becoming fixtures on the contemporary business and film scenes, respectively. Cuban and Wagner surely fit the criteria of Shyamalan’s description of “business guys.” Though Cuban’s entrepreneurship extended to many different avenues—sports teams among other enterprises—it wasn’t until he created the TV station HDNet and bought the boutique Landmark theater chain that he entertained the idea of making movies through his production house, 2929 Pictures then HDNet films. At that point Cuban and Wagner had secured a vertically integrated exhibition and distribution wing for themselves, whose ability to broadcast in the HD format required a great deal of area bandwidth but, more importantly, demanded that a certain amount of guaranteed content was available for broadcast at a given time. With the advent of extremely high-quality home entertainment equipment, including 5.1 Surround Sound and widescreen home theater technology, the industry was slow to answer the demand for high-resolution products—best exemplified by the all-out format war between HD-DVD and Blu-Ray technologies—and there

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was a huge opportunity to be seized by someone who could recognize the new shifts in the system, particularly when it came to content provision via the Internet. At the time, however, their problem was that aside from sports programming, there was not a great deal of original material that was available for broadcast in the HD format. They would simply have to create it in order to be successful. This is precisely what Cuban and Wagner were attempting, while at the same time seeking to associate themselves with like-minded artistic figures such as Soderbergh, Hal Hartley, and, eventually, Brian De Palma instead of strictly “independent” artists. The venture, therefore, would attempt to bring industry-wide acceptance of low-key filmmaking by leading directors, while at the same time bringing high exposure to the creative possibilities of the HD medium. One of the great advantages that HD affords a potential filmmaker and ultimately the exhibitor is the ability to reduce the costs of manufacturing 35 mm prints in addition to streamlining the filmmaking process. According to independent producer James Schamus, the profitability of any independent film is entirely dependent on how well a producer is able to sidestep the ancillary costs of a film’s release. The brunt of these costs come from the elusively titled print and advertising (P&A), which Schamus describes as “cover[ing] anything from the design and printing of posters . . . the striking and shipment of release prints, the cost of print, radio and TV advertising, the care and feeding of stars and other talent as they travel promoting the film, and the various other costs.”5 In our present environment, a film’s P&A is known to effectively double the budget of most mainstream releases, making even a typical Hollywood product extremely difficult to recoup its costs. For a film such as Spider Man 3, whose final production budget was $258 million, the film must ultimately make approximately $600 million if the film is to even come close to breaking even.6 Wagner has cited figures that negative costs and P&A have jumped up to 85 percent and 110 percent, respectively, making the prospect of moviemaking an extremely risky venture even in the optimal of circumstances.7 For the purposes of independent or digital filmmakers then, reduction of the initial investment costs provides a decided advantage in the marketplace, affording the production team to effectively sidestep most of the obstacles to a film’s profitability and allowing a direct conduit to immediately recoup their costs with day-and-date release. In the case of Bubble, the film’s initial roll-out over festivals cost next to nothing to advertise, save for Soderbergh’s various appearances with the work, and avoided the cost of having to manufacture a master print, as most festival theaters are now equipped to show digital works. The film’s instantaneous release and exhibition not only allowed the film to travel but reduced the expense of having to spend unnecessary funds on advertising. Using Cuban, Wagner, and Soderbergh’s model, a film is able to effectively avoid one-half of the overall cost of filmmaking and exhibiting, making it an extremely

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streamlined and cost-efficient means of production, particularly for independent and digital filmmaking. Cuban and Wagner’s solution to the earlier problems—lack of content and printing costs—was simply to set themselves up as producers and become directly responsible for creating their own products, while at the same time affording artists absolute freedom to express themselves with the costefficient, high-quality recording and distribution technologies. Soderbergh was a natural choice, if only because he was known as the premier filmmaker for doing things on the cheap and consistently under budget—something that obviously appealed to two businessmen in their first foray into the emerging business of HD digital filmmaking. At the same time, Soderbergh was extremely interested in altering the industry model, particularly as it related to smaller, more esoteric films such as his recent digital projects Full Frontal (2002), K-Street (2004), and his other collaboration with George Clooney on the HBO series Unscripted (2005). What the television, pay-per-view, DVD, and Internet content provision afforded was the opportunity for smaller audiences to find his films outside of the theaters, as the larger chains rarely carried these more “artistic” works to begin with. What was at stake, therefore, was the opportunity for digital and predominantly HD works to find audiences through emerging new venues, echoing the new emphasis on content and programming rather than films in and of themselves. The key factor missing from the arguments against the enterprise was that the films that Soderbergh, Cuban, and Wagner championed were precisely the films that were generally left out of the distribution part of the equation, so the exhibitors and studios’ resistance was largely disproportionate when considering Bubble’s scale. The intense animosity toward Soderbergh and his backers was grossly overstated, particularly when considering the fact that the scale of his film—a $1.4 million on-location set with no stars—was a far cry from the Hollywood blockbuster. In today’s figures, $1.4 million is a paltry sum for a feature film of any standard but even more so when considering Soderbergh’s pedigree, which includes a 2001 Academy Award win for Best Director. For Soderbergh, it was important that the work emerge from two particular factors: It needed to be both site and medium specific. Soderbergh had found his experiences working with nonactors James Carville and Mary Matalin in K-Street invigorating and was looking to find an excuse to combine these elements.8 Bubble’s setting, a doll-factory in Ohio, served as the synthesis of all of these artistic choices, and the filmmaker cast his leads from the town in order to reinforce the verisimilitude of the film. Finally, Soderbergh knew that the HD format was the perfect medium for this kind of industrial and artistic experiment, stating, “I was interested in this because I knew that creatively [. . .] this was the only way to get a film like ‘Bubble’ made, period.”9 At the same time, the film represented a continuation of the run-and-gun

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style that had characterized the filmmaker’s evolution since his debut film Sex, Lies, and Videotape. After initially becoming the poster boy for the independent film moment with his explosive debut, Soderbergh’s career went through several phases that were a direct result of the way his films were initially received and also the way in which Soderbergh wanted to make his films. This created the reputation of the filmmaker being a cold technician rather than an engaged “auteur” personality, which eventually factored into the critical reception of most of his films from his debut onward. Sex, Lies, and Videotape seemed to capture the zeitgeist of post-Reagan America, along with the new tone of Generation-X brand angst; after the film’s high prominence at both the Sundance and Cannes Film Festivals, it seemed that the filmmaker would be able to write his own ticket. However, when he won the Palme D’ Or at Cannes he stated that it “was all downhill” from there and ended up forgetting the award under his seat. Beginning with Kafka in 1991 and leading to the universally panned Schizopolis in 1996, Soderbergh made a series of films that diverged widely from the model that critics and industry would likely have set out for him. After the critical and commercial failures of his post–Sex, Lies, and Videotape period—beginning with the box-office failure of Kafka (1991) through to the release of Schizopolis (1996)—Soderbergh re-entered the mainstream and displayed remarkable business acumen from that point forward, beginning with Out of Sight in 1997. Central to his success was not only his profitable partnership with A-List star George Clooney and their production company Section Eight Pictures but also his incredible ability to deliver high-quality product at a budget that was far below the cost of other filmmakers. At a time when most films as banal as Brett Ratner’s Rush Hour 3 (2007) cost in excess of $140 million, Soderbergh was still capable of making movies for less than $50 million. Full Frontal (2002), for instance, only cost Harvey Weinstein’s Miramax $1 million, despite the fact that it featured A-list actors such as Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt. To put this figure in context, this is often what a script or even a development deal would cost in contemporary Hollywood figures. Soderbergh’s technical savvy made him a rarity in Hollywood and had made him a virtual vertically integrated industry in and of himself, producing, writing, directing, editing, and manning his own cameras as cinematographer. When he beat himself for the Best Director Academy Award— for Traffic rather than Erin Brockovich—he further solidified his reputation within the Hollywood community by also becoming an actor’s director, a fact that both Julia Roberts’ Best Actress win as well as Benecio del Toro’s Best Supporting Actor win attested to. With Traffic, despite the fact that the film was easily the most visually stunning of the year, Soderbergh invalidated himself from competition in the best cinematographer award, due to his desire to add the credit “Directed and Photographed by Steven Soderbergh,” as the writer’s union would not allow this title to supersede writer Steven Gaghan’s own. Eventually he went with the pseudonym Peter Andrews to

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display his displeasure with the union, a practice that he continues to this day.10 With 2002’s release of Ocean’s 11, the filmmaker afforded himself the possibility to become a self-financing entity, as exhibited by the fact that he (as well as the actors on the film) made more money from the film’s phenomenal success than with anything that they had made previous to Ocean’s. This is also true of partner George Clooney, who bought his mansion in Italy’s exclusive and expensive Lake Como with his portion of Ocean’s’ profits. The success of Ocean’s set the course of Soderbergh’s career for the next several years as it not only afforded him the ability to take risks in his filmmaking practices (as exhibited by his collaboration with James Cameron in Solaris, 2002) but also allowed him to help out friends he admired within the industry, including Christopher Nolan, Todd Haynes, and Richard Linklater, in addition to financing George Clooney’s directorial efforts in Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (2002) and Good Night, and Good Luck (2005) as their executive producer. Thus, Soderbergh provided himself with the rare opportunity to exist as both an insider and an outsider—outside the critical and academic community while at the same time standing at the center of the industry as the Vice President of the Director’s Guild of America. Though many of Soderbergh’s films were often perceived by critics as “interesting failures” as well as being “cold” and “impenetrable” to audiences, the director was a rarity in Hollywood, a figure who allowed himself to work in every possible genre in stylistically innovative ways, while at the same time providing himself with a stable financial model to fund these pet projects through his efforts with Clooney. Interestingly, this nonmainstream fare has most often served as prime fodder for critics who have seemingly relegated Soderbergh’s experimental (and independent) work as too intellectual. The best example of this negative critical reception includes the response to Soderbergh’s Schizopolis, Full Frontal, Solaris, and, most recently, The Good German. Because he never behaved in the manner that critics would have him make films, Soderbergh has often been accused of being out of step with his audiences, despite the fact that his films stand up and certainly reward extra viewings. In all cases, the filmmaker has been accused of attempting to talk down to his audience with these experiments or, in the case of the lighter Full Frontal, telling a joke that only he and his friends enjoyed. On the other hand, the more artistic films that Soderbergh executive produced during this period, ranging from Pleasant ville (Gary Ross, 1998); Far From Heaven (Todd Haynes, 2002); Good Night, and Good Luck; and Syriana (Steven Gaghan, 2005) to Michael Clayton (Tony Gilroy, 2007), have all been extremely well-regarded by critics even though they paradoxically exhibit stylistic traits that can all be traced back to the director’s influence. Soderbergh has always implemented new technologies into the Hollywood filmmaking process, as demonstrated by his Dogme-inspired film Full Frontal, his hybridized docu-drama K-Street for HBO, and his important cinematographic innovations with tinting film stocks beginning with The

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Underneath (1995), in addition to his inclusion of different mediums (including full-frame video on screen) into the mainstream. Indeed, many of today’s aesthetic and technical hallmarks—including the handheld cinema verité cinematography, and bleached films stocks found in Spike Lee’s Clockers (1995) and even Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan (1998)—can be at least in part attributed to the influence of Soderbergh’s revolutionary technical, cinematographic, and stylistic contributions. Finally, as an executive producer with as many producing credits to his name as he does for direction, Soderbergh was acutely aware that the industry model was in need of repair, if not a complete overhaul. Ultimately what Cuban and Wagner received in collaboration was a third interested partner who was immersed in the culture and who was also seen as enough of a Hollywood outsider to be able to pull it off, and who was a director whose efforts always came in under schedule and under budget. Soderbergh was respected enough within the industry to act as a lightning rod for other interested directors to participate, as evidenced by Brian De Palma’s eventual signing with HDNet for 2007s Redacted, shot in Iraq, in addition to filmmakers such as David Lynch and Francis Ford Coppola adopting HD and digital formats with Inland Empire (2006) and Youth Without Youth (2007), respectively, though not for HDNet films. Though the studios were loath to admit it at the time, from the vantage point of 2004, the industry was facing a huge crisis, not only of leadership but due to the old studio model losing billions of dollars to piracy, bootlegging, and illegal downloading of its films. According to Steven Daly, Internet piracy, including peer-to-peer file sharing via platforms such as bittorrent software, cost the studios at least $7 billion in 2005.11 From 2003 to 2005, studios were presented with three consecutive years of declining box-office totals, descending by 3.4 percent for 2003, 0.4 percent for 2004, and 8.9 percent for 2005 for a total of 12.7 percent for the three-year period.12 These figures are particularly vivid when put in relation to the huge takes of the previous years, particularly those ushered in by Spider Man (Sam Raimi, 2002), which grossed $821,708,551 worldwide.13 Though the movie industry was hemorrhaging dollars in excess of those of the music conglomerates (in the billions), nevertheless, there was ample cause to find, or at least to propose, alternatives to the Hollywood model of production and distribution. What seems to be at the heart of the piracy issue, as proven by the success of iTunes amongst other new music distribution and technological shifts in the industry, is ultimately the question of instant access and availability—an issue that Cuban, Wagner, and Soderbergh’s proposal sought to remedy. Their rationale was that if people wanted to watch the film at home, in theaters or vice versa, it didn’t matter to them, provided that people ended up watching the film, period. Soderbergh commented, “I wanted them to sell the DVD in the lobby of the theatres,” which they actually did in Cuban’s Landmark Theater chain.14

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The main problem was that the current industry model relies heavily on the sale of DVDs and the films acting as advertisements to draw people in. Adam Liepzig reports that the major studios derive most of their profits not from the theatrical release of a film but ultimately from consumers’ adding it to their DVD collections. Since few movies earn that much [200 million at the box-office], the studios have increasingly relied on the home-video market, where the equation is much more in their favour, to help recover losses and to make a profit. For example, a DVD costs about $2 to manufacture and $2 to market. It is then sold wholesale to retailers at $16 a unit, amounting to a $12 profit. Since manufacturers’ suggested retail prices are usually $20 to $30 a DVD (typically discounted by 20 percent), a DVD can return tens of millions of dollars in profit to the studio.15

Unlike the production of the film, which currently runs in the hundreds of millions of dollars range, DVDs are relatively inexpensive to manufacture ($2) and can be sold for $20 plus upon their release. Exhibitors and theater owners are also in need of products, which in Hollywood are ultimately interchangeable but at the same time are still extremely necessary for putting people in seats. Producer James Schamus describes this phenomenon quite succinctly when he explains exhibitors, ironically, don’t make their make their money from exhibition but by selling moviegoers heavily marked-up popcorn and pop before the shows.16 With this in mind, we can see why the exhibitors had some pronounced reservations to the idea. On the other hand, we can also see the prevalent attitude on the consumer end against what can be seen as double-, triple-, and quadruple-dipping on the part of the movie industry. Resistance to this industry-wide practice can be seen as motivating the more illegal end of Internet piracy, perhaps justified by pirates as a rebellious gesture against the industry’s constant reselling of its catalog to the same consumers, particularly with the release and re-release of special editions on DVD. A prime example of this phenomenon can be found in the constant opening and closing of the prestigious “Disney Vault,” whose scarcity spurs consumers into buying and rebuying movies that they have bought several times over in order to own the latest digitally remastered version.17 We might, therefore, possibly see a move by consumers toward ownership, or at least possession, but we should also measure the fact that that they may not necessarily be willing to pay repeatedly for the same experience, especially if they have seen the film in the theaters first then paid several times over to own the DVD. Day-and-date release partially solves this consumer quandary, nipping the idea of instantaneous access in the bud, while at the same time providing a series of formats for the consumer to “own” the experience— something that appeals to the collector as well as the casual viewer.

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The idea of digital projection, as found in Cuban’s Landmark Cinema chain, has only recently met with some malleability from the exhibitor community as well. A case in point occurred in 2002, when George Lucas attempted to retrofit theaters with digital projectors in order that his Star Wars (particularly Attack of the Clones, 2002) films could be shown in their proper HD format rather than be transferred to film and projected via a 35 mm print. As he had done earlier, with the advent of THX sound, Lucas actually offered to pay for the theaters’ purchasing digital projectors in order to ensure that his films could be seen in what he viewed as the most appropriate manner. Then as now, any suggestion of change to the contemporary industrial models was met with a great deal of resistance, despite the fact that in the long run, HD digital projection eventually became a reality for many theater chains, though, admittedly, this is still the exception and not the rule.18 At the same time, the movie industry of the past 30 years has been refashioned to the point where a film is only one stop in Hollywood’s recovery of profits. The movie, as viewed in theaters, more often than not only serves as a larger advertisement for the ancillary products the home conglomerate can shill. Star Wars is the ultimate example of the shifts within the industry, as the films spawned hundreds of micro-industries in their wake, ranging from lunch boxes to action figures to books to a lucrative video game industry, all inspired by the series.19 The average cost of today’s Hollywood blockbuster exceeds $150 million and poses huge problems for studios, who now rely almost solely on the ancillary industries (such as soundtracks and spin-offs) and foreign box-office figures to recover their investment in a film. In this vein, we should recall that according to Laura M. Holson, foreign advertising figures have become staggering, to the point where Sony Pictures reportedly spent upwards of $70 million (roughly 70 times Bubble’s entire budget) to promote The Da Vinci Code (Ron Howard, 2006) in Europe alone.20 When taken in relation to a film’s total cost we can see that the P&A effectively doubles a studio’s initial outlay of capital to the point where a film must make approximately twice its weight in rentals if a film is to turn a profit. At this point in history, this often means that a Hollywood Blockbuster must make at least half a billion dollars before it starts to make money. This is where DVD sales enter the equation, as the system has shifted inevitably to the foreign box office and to DVD to recover their investments. The relative success or failure of a DVD, like the film itself, can be easily measured by sophisticated computer tracking systems, such as the one employed by Wal-Mart, the world’s largest DVD merchant, which accounts for 50 percent of the entire DVD market. DVD sales can be tracked and further copies manufactured by individual title, making the profit margins even more effective by way of the instantaneous systematic assessment of supply and demand. It seems necessary to iterate that the window of a DVDs success or failure already operates on such razor-thin margins of profit.21

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The issue of release windows from exhibition to DVD sales, then, is an extremely volatile one, ultimately complicating the issue even further when adding the overall effect of piracy to the equation. This is just as true for filmmakers and may help to explain M. Night Shyamalan’s resistance to the idea, as he has stated that The Sixth Sense DVD paid for the whole cost of his house.22 Since the initial run of a film will likely anticipate the manufacture and sale of its DVD equivalent, any shrinking window will not only diminish the effectiveness of this strategy but likely ease the ultimate demand for the DVD sale. The additional market of the HD TV industry further problematizes the issue as consumers are now capable of watching similar quality fare in their homes through video-on-demand technologies, which potentially bypass the theater and the video store and go directly to the consumer’s home. Finally, the rise in illegal movie downloading via the Internet, where the same peer-to-peer file sharing technologies that devastated the music business could potentially divert further profits from Hollywood, causes another problem because newly bootlegged Hollywood films are often available by a film’s first weekend release in high quality forms on the Internet, which can be easily viewed on domestic home theater systems. In the minds of Soderbergh, Cuban, and Wagner, then, the system was already broken. Their partial solution to this problem was the day-and-date release strategy that Bubble would be the first to exploit. By releasing Bubble in theaters and on DVD and making it available (and cost-effective) over the Internet, they effectively solved the problem by giving the consumer instant access to the product that they wanted to watch. In their mind, the question of choice and format—in other words, the idea that consumers want to watch films the way that they want to, whether on home video, via their computers, or in the theaters—lies at the heart of the illegal activity of movie downloading. In the music industry, iTunes has at least provided a stopgap measure (and industry alternative) to illegal file sharing, as it provides a venue for the instantaneous access to newly released content and has diverted some illegal traffic to ensure the recovery of profits. The day-and-date release strategy, at the very least, can be seen as a viable alternative to the ultimate loss that a newly released blockbuster film will likely face in the longer term. Thus, Cuban and Wagner’s plan ultimately helps to stem the diversionary tide of profits by allowing the consumer their respective choice of format and by providing the immediate access that consumers crave. Predictably, the idea met with a great deal of resistance throughout the industry. We can look at the reception of Bubble in two waves because it was largely received in the popular press in two corresponding phases. These phases roughly responded to the manner in which the idea of the film was received in the year anticipating its release, followed by generally warm reviews of the film upon its theatrical run. In articles that responded to the idea of the film, these sources were further split, on the one hand representing industry

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retrenchment against the idea and generally denouncing the idea in the popular press. On the other hand, articles in favor of the idea also provided a great deal of ancillary information about how the current industry model operated, using Soderbergh’s film as a launching pad to discuss what the day-and-date release meant or could mean to the industry. The New York Times’ Manohla Dargis was among the first mainstream critic to comment on the film’s potential in a feature piece in 2005. The timing of this article coincided with the Bubble’s release throughout the festival season and features the director speaking on the behalf of the new enterprise.23 In a contemporary article written from the film’s debut at the earlier Toronto International Film Festival, Christopher Borrelli wonders if the film’s mandate, to show ordinary people in their environments, is relayed with any sense of condescension; he eventually comes to the opposite conclusion.24 Both pieces concentrate on the filmmaking process—the 18-day shoot, the use of nonactors, and the implementation of HD technologies to the industry model—and additionally to Bubble’s low-key aesthetic. While the film received admiration and intrigue on the one side of the equation, on the other hand, industry sources began denouncing the project before it even began. This includes the reportage of industry-wide resistance to the HD format, as reflected in Scott Kirsner’s piece on the infiltration of digital cinematography in mainstream Hollywood fare, in addition to his initial interview with M. Night Shymalan, which brought the industrial debate into the mainstream.25 Adam Liepzig uses Bubble and the industry model that it could potentially disrupt to discuss the larger issue of the DVD market. When the film was finally released on 32 screens on January 27, 2006, it was generally quite well-regarded by critics, who found it an extremely engaging return to form for the filmmaker, with Entertainment Weekly’s Owen Glieberman calling it “devious and fascinating,” Roger Ebert calling it “hypnotic,” and Lou Lemenick characterizing it as a “deadpan commentary on the emptiness of middle-American life,” which Soderbergh managed “to pull off . . . without condescending to the characters.”26 Ironically enough, and despite the industry’s resistance, Bubble was one of Soderbergh’s best-reviewed films in years and did not face the same tone of negative criticism that accompanied some of his other, more esoteric works. Most critics agreed that the film was a return to form for the director, with Ebert calling it “brilliant.” Many reviewers seemed swayed by the film’s potential to change the industry model, with many centering on the “experimental” nature of its low-key aesthetic. In this regard, The Boston Globe’s reviewer Ty Burr calls the film an “experiment worth seeing,” while Dargis’ review calls the film a “wilfully perverse excursion into experimentation.”27 Critics on the negative side seem to have really hated the film, with comments such as “staggeringly clueless” and “[b]oring as [s]h*t.”28 The most intelligent negativity came from Marjorie Baumgarten, who remarked that the film would more likely

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be remembered for “its method of manufacture and release than for any inherent qualities of its own.”29 Despite the overall critical consensus that the film was a good one, the film’s release was tempered by its lack of access to screens overall, and it played for under a month in Cuban’s Landmark chain until February. Regardless of the profit-sharing incentives that Cuban and Wagner offered to theaters willing to carry the film, the overall resistance on the exhibition side doomed the film to a poor box-office total and virtual invisibility in the video stores. Its lackluster box-office performance seemingly buoyed National Theatre Owner’s President John Fithian’s victory over Cuban, and he was able to conclude that the exhibition window should not shrink accordingly. Here, he was able to restate his earlier opinion, calling the film a “radical” and misguided “experiment.”30 At the same time, even Fithian agreed that the film eventually “caused studios and exhibitors to sit down and talk with the creative community about this issue,” and that it “got us all together.”31 Cuban, on the other hand, reported that Bubble exceeded even his modest expectations, and the higher profile that the film garnered as a result of the related controversy resulted in it grossing “approximately $5 million in total returns, including box office, DVD pre-orders and ‘other revenues’ (presumably meaning pay-per-view receipts), which approximated a viewership of 500,000 people.”32 This would seem to indicate that the “radical” and “misguided” experiment served its purpose by overperforming in its new venues (DVD, theater, and pay-per-view) by expanding the exhibition venues horizontally, by way of Internet and cable delivery systems. HDNet films released other films between 2005 and 2007, including Hal Hartley’s Fay Grim (2006), Broken English (Zoe Cassavettes, 2007), and Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room (Alex Gibney, 2005). Ironically, among these works it was the documentary that was the most profitable, and the exhibitors that showed the film were offered back-end revenue in order to show it, as Cuban “kept writing them cheques.”33 With the release of Brian De Palma’s high-profile Iraq drama, Redacted, it seemed as though the enterprise— including the overall controversy that the trio courted—was on the cusp of success. However, despite the overall positive reviews of the film, the HDNet experiment may have reached the end of its course. Though Cuban and Wagner are experimenting further with the industry model, possibly making Redacted available in what they call “Ultra HD Video-on-Demand,” they moved the filmmaking end of their business from HDNet to 2929 Productions ultimately ending their role as producers.34 Their rationale was that “three years on to the project, they no longer saw the need to convince people to produce in HD.” Furthermore, “[n]ow that people have accepted that digital technology can create wonderful artistic works, it is now but one more choice available to the independent artist choosing to work in film.”35 It is unclear whether this will mean a contractual renegotiation between Cuban, Wagner,

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and Soderbergh, though it is rumored that his upcoming film on Spalding Gray, Life, Interrupted, will still be produced through HDNet films. Regardless, since Bubble’s release and the industry’s resistance to it, the structure is already in the process of changing, particularly when it comes to online and video-on-demand delivery. The overall effect can already be seen in WalMart and Amazon.com’s competition to provide high-speed delivery of movies online, in addition to the recent announcement that iTunes will now make Disney films available for download on its Quicktime player. In this sense, aside from the controversy that surrounded it, we should see Bubble as a properly historical document, perhaps going as far as to distinguish the film as the zero-moment of the coming digital era and the moment that the industry realized it had to change in order to ensure its long-term survival. NOTES 1. Miami Vice, http://www.boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=miamivice.htm; Superman Returns, http://www.boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=superman06.htm. 2. Shyamalan, qtd. in Gregg Goldstein, “Shyamalan: Day and Date Life or Death to Me,” The Hollywood Reporter, October 28, 2005, http://www.hollywoodreporter. com/hr/search/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1001391595. 3. Schamus, James, “To the Rear of the Back End: The Economics of Independent Cinema,” in Contemporary Hollywood Cinema, ed. Steve Neale and Murray Smith. New York: Routledge, 1998: 91–105. 4. Goldstein 2005. 5. Schamus 1998: 93. 6. Spider Man 3, http://www.boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=spiderman3.htm. 7. Hernandez, Eugene, “TRIBECA ’06: In a Time of Change for the Movie Business, Talking About Emerging Distribution Platforms,” Indiewire, April 27, 2006, http://www.indiewire.com/ots/2006/05/tribeca_06_in_a.htmlHernandez 2006. 8. Soderbergh, Steven, “Director’s Commentary,” Bubble. Magnolia Pictures, 2006. 9. Soderbergh, qtd. in Hernandez 2006. 10. This was not Soderbergh’s first run-in with the writer’s union, as he changed his writer’s credit to “Sam Lowry”—a name inspired by the bureaucracy of the system in Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (1985)—to reflect his dissatisfaction with the union for his writing credit for The Underneath (1995). Since then, Soderbergh has begun to use the name Mary Ann Bernard for his own work as an editor from Solaris (2002) onward. 11. Daly, Steven, “Pirates of the Multiplex,” Vanity Fair, March 2007. 12. “Yearly Box-Office,” http://www.boxofficemojo.com/yearly. 13. Spider Man, http://www.boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=spiderman.htm. 14. Soderbergh, “Director’s Commentary.” 15. Liepzig, Adam, “How to Sell a Movie (or Fail) in Four Hours,” The New York Times, November 13, 2005. 16. Schamus 1998.

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17. The present author has bought at least four separate versions of the original Star Wars trilogy: two versions on VHS and two on DVD. 18. Burr, Ty, “Celluloid Zero,” Entertainment Weekly, April 15, 2002. 19. For the historical overview of this issue, see Jon Lewis, “Following the Money in America’s Sunniest Company Town: Some Notes on the Political Economy of the Hollywood Blockbuster,” and Thomas Schatz, “The New Hollywood,” in Movie Blockbusters, ed. Julian Stringer. London: Routledge, 2003. 20. Holson, Laura M., “More Than Ever, Hollywood Studios are Relying on the Foreign Box Office,” The New York Times, August 7, 2006. 21. See Liepzig’s description of a weekend total for the DVD market of a film; Liepzig 2005. 22. Goldstein 2005. 23. Dargis, Manohla, “Director Zigs From Stars to Nonactors,” The New York Times, September 22, 2005. 24. Borrelli, Christopher, “Main Street U.S.A.: Filmmakers see the Midwest through many lenses,” The Toledo Blade, October 16, 2005. 25. Kirsner, Scott, “Digital Cinematography,” The Hollywood Reporter, July 13, 2006, http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/search/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_ id=1002688109; Kirsner, Scott, “Director M. Night Shyamalan on New Technologies, Filmmaking, and the Theatrical Window,” http://cinematech.blogspot.com/2006/07/ director-m-night-shyamalan-on-new.html. 26. Glieberman, Owen, “Review: Bubble,” Entertainment Weekly, January 25, 2006; Ebert, Roger, “Review: Bubble,” The Chicago Sun-Times, January 27, 2006; Lumenick, Lou, The New York Post, 2006. http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/10005849bubble/?beg=19&int=20&page=2. 27. Burr, Ty, “Review: Bubble,” The Boston Globe, January 27, 2007; Dargis, Manohla, “Review: Bubble,” The New York Times, January 27, 2006. 28. Atani, Jay, “Bubble Movie Review,” Filmcritic.com, January 2006. http://www. filmcritic.com/misc/emporium.nsf/reviews/Bubble; Douglas, Edward, “Review: Bubble,” http://www.comingsoon.net/news/reviewsnews.php?id=12875. 29. Baumgarten, Marjorie, “Review: Bubble,” The Austin Chronicle, January 27, 2006. 30. Hollywood Reporter.com, “Studio Briefing,” January 31, 2006, http://imdb.com/ title/tt0454792/news. 31. Hollywood Reporter.com, “Studio Briefing,” January 30, 2006, http://imdb.com/ title/tt0454792/news. 32. Hollywood Reporter.com, “Studio Briefing,” January 31, 2006, http://imdb.com/ title/tt0454792/news. 33. Thompson, Anne, “Soderbergh, Outsiders Challenge Studio Model,” The HollywoodReporter.com, http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/thr/columns/risky_busi ness_display.jsp?vnu_content_id_htm. 34. “Brian de Palma’s Redacted to Hit TV via Ultra HD Video on Demand,” Variety, August 10, 2007. 35. Hernandez, Eugene, “Cuban and Wagner Change Course at HDNet Films as ‘Redacted’ Stirs Venice, Telluride and Now, Toronto,” IndieWire, September 6, 2007.

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chapter 11

Celebrity Juice, Not From Concentrate: Perez Hilton, Gossip Blogs, and the New Star Production Anne H. Petersen

In early May of 2006, Tom Cruise grinned wildly at the reader from the cover of Entertainment Weekly. Only instead of promoting Mission Impossible 3, Cruise’s million-dollar smile was paired with a questioning caption: “Is Tom Cruise Really Worth $100,000,000?” For a star whose box office track record has established him as one of the few remaining sure-fires in an industry with increasing resemblance to a Las Vegas craps table, the gravity of such a headline is immense. Arguably the most iconic actor of the last 20 years, considerable damage must have been inflicted in order for anyone, let alone a national magazine, to question the drawing power of the cinematic colossus that is Cruise. Many will argue that Cruise shot himself squarely in the foot with a year of Scientology speechifying, couch-jumping, his public condemnation of psychiatry, and the micromanagement of fiancée Katie Holmes, and they are correct: Cruise’s actions were a clear departure from his once immenselyprivate personal life. But what truly brought Cruise’s actions into the limelight, what scrutinized them, parodied them, and facilitated their massive proliferation, is an institution even older than Hollywood: celebrity gossip. Us Weekly, People, and Entertainment Tonight, of course. Even more significant to the deterioration of Cruise’s image, however, is the advent of the Internet Adapted from Petersen, Anne Helen. “Celebrity Juice, Not From Concentrate”: Perez Hilton, Gossip Blogs, and The New Star Production. Jump Cut 49 (2007). http:// www.ejumpcut.org/currentissue/PerezHilton/index.html. Used with permission.

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gossip blog. With easy accessibility and immediacy, gossip blogs have set up shop in the massive mechanism that is the Hollywood star system. By combining snarky commentary with links to the actual video, clips, and recollections of Cruise’s recent television appearances, gossip bloggers have been credited with causing Cruise’s star to begin its fall, M:I:III to perform below expectations, and Entertainment Weekly to question his worth on the marquee. The greatest evidence of Cruise’s descent came in an August 22, 2006, article in the Wall Street Journal, where Paramount CEO Sumner Redstone publicly severed the studio’s ties with Cruise, explaining “his recent conduct has not been acceptable to Paramount.”1 As evidenced by the case of Cruise, a blogger may use posts to significantly influence box office pulls and simultaneously dent, inflate, and damage a star image. The most notorious of these bloggers is Perez Hilton (real name Mario Lavandeira) whose blog currently boasts more than a million hits a day. Along with fellow gossip bloggers at The Defamer, Lainey Gossip, The Superficial, Jossip, and Pink Is the New Blog, Perez and his blog function as the newest component in the business of entertainment, integrating the established mechanism of gossip with the new, immediate accessibility of the Internet. Hilton and his blog may be situated within Richard Dyer’s landmark meditation on stars, with particular focus on the blogger’s novel role in the “production” of stars. As Paul McDonald notes in The Star System, much of the work on stars in the last two decades has focused on stars as a “phenomenon of consumption,” rather than one of production, effectively “los[ing] sight of where stars come from.”2 While McDonald primarily concerns himself with star production on the part of the studio, the blogger occupies a unique position in the entertainment industry, functioning as both producer and consumer of the star image, providing a rich site for analysis. I focus specifically on Hilton, in part because his blog is the most read, most publicized, and most thoroughly pervaded by the blogger’s own personality. As such, it exemplifies the union of traditional gossip columnists and new media technologies. But even more interestingly, Hilton, as an openly gay “queen” with an unabashed affection for all things camp, complicates these phenomena of production and consumption. Whether by comparing an unflattering photo of a celebrity to a celebrated drag queen or launching incessant campaigns to “out” a star, Hilton’s position in the queer community cannot be discounted. The gossip blogger may be traced in relation to five key aspects of star production—economics, manipulation, fashion, magic/ talent, and the nature of the medium, with attention to the extent to which each element of production is (or is not) influenced by Hilton’s queer identity. Ultimately, the gossip blogger’s use of new media may be situated as a stripping of the mediated mechanisms of the entertainment business. New media technology makes such mechanisms visible, and gossip bloggers utilize this visibility to influence consumption. Bloggers illuminate the star system, and

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in so doing, alter our expectations and understanding of stars and their importance in contemporary society. One of Dyer’s major assertions focuses on the fact that society, as opposed to the success or failure of a film, truly makes or breaks a star. How we “feel” about stars—whether they are likable, admirable, down-to-earth, worthy of devotion, glamorous, and so forth—determines whether or not we attend their movies. With this in mind, as Internet gossip continues to proliferate, how does it influence, much more than printed media, our perception and subsequent consumption of stars? How are Internet gossip sites any different than the gossip columns of Classic Hollywood? The answer is in front of my eyes as I type this sentence on my laptop: Blogs represent a recent yet significant component of new media, a term loosely defined as the current cultural shift resulting from the ubiquity of and reliance on computers, digitalization, and the Internet. Blogs first garnered attention as a means of rapid-fire discourse surrounding the 2004 presidential campaign. At the time, their ability to swiftly post material, engender debate, and garner a readership that was at once loyal and diverse served as a remarkable point of interest. Blogs emerged as a new way to stimulate discourse, disseminate opinion, and reach out to the technologydependent audience. The gossip blog serves the same function, focusing on the “new” business of entertainment: smut and glamour. As tickets sales and television viewership continue to drop, the industry has amped up promotion of its most reliable commodity, namely, celebrities. Whether it’s shots of Britney’s crotch or Angelina’s babies, the buying and selling of celebrity information—pictures, video, gossip, interviews, exclusives—serves as a solid foundation for the market. Stars are a near inexhaustible resource: While one may fall, another will certainly rise in her place. Indeed, the dynamicism of celebrity culture is what keeps us hooked—someone’s always falling in or out of society’s graces. We want the dirty details and the sparkling gowns, the mugshots, the sex tapes, and the latest proof of Jennifer Aniston’s nose job. The gossip blog trades on this very desire: Even though Perez’s catchphrase announces his blog as “Hollywood’s most hated website,” he’s actually providing the exact sort of sustained feed necessary to generate and maintain societal interest. Hollywood may dislike his speculative and snarky ways, but Perez keeps attention focused exactly where the industry wants it most: on the product. Gossip blogs, PerezHilton.com in particular, follow the same general format. A picture is posted; the picture is accompanied by a comment, story, or a link to a more detailed article. The picture itself is the focal point of the post, but the text influences the manner in which the picture is received. The text and photo, received in tandem, thus become part of the star’s “image.” I use the word not in its traditional sense—as a visual representation of a thing— but in Dyer’s conception of the image, which he summarizes as “a complex

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configuration of visual, verbal, and aural signs. . . . it is manifest not only in films but in all kinds of media texts.”3 Bloggers concentrate not on only the image itself but also on the means of its production. While the public has long been knowledgeable of the strings of production—Joan Crawford’s persona and name were chosen through a Photoplay contest; Rita Hayworth’s cosmetic transformation was highly publicized, to name just a few—the difference is that those strings were meant to be seen. Like any other part of a star’s public image, they were constructed and willfully disseminated by the studio. Yet, bloggers, even more than the gossip columnists who came before them, have broken through those walls, effectively exposing the “phenomena” of production. Here, for the purpose of better understanding its contemporary importance, star production is explored through four of Dyer’s categories: economics, fashion, magic/talent, and the nature of the medium. ECONOMICS Stars are essential to the business of Hollywood: More than any other cinematic variable, they may be used to predict or ensure the success of a film. And yet, as Dyer explains, “even in Hollywood’s heyday, stars did not absolutely guarantee the success of a film. Stars move in and out of favour, and even at the height of their popularity may make a film that nobody much goes to see. . . . for this reason stars were a very problematic necessity from an economic point of view.”4 In other words, stars represent the ultimate in Hollywood paradoxes: A studio needs them, but they cannot “insure” them with good roles or promising parts. The studio must rely on their specific appeal in a specific societal moment. As society is historically as moody as a 13-year-old girl, this makes for mercurial rises and falls. For most of the twentieth century, the task of recording (and influencing) a particular star’s fortunes (and appraised economic value) fell to print media, specifically the form of the gossip column. Celebrity gossip is as old as Hollywood itself—for decades Louella Parsons, Hedda Hopper, and dozens of others served to arbitrate and disseminate all the star “news” that was fit to print. But with newspapers and magazines, the reader had to wait for a weekly update on the dynamic star lifestyle. The wait was cut with the introduction of celebrity “news,” especially Entertainment Tonight and E!, a network devoted exclusively to celebrity culture and entertainment. The majority of E!’s programming schedule is filled with repeat broadcasts of True Hollywood Story, 50 Biggest Fashion Mistakes, and similar productions, and while these shows undoubtedly contribute to a star’s image and subsequent economic value, once produced, they remain static—unable to match their content with that of the ever-fluctuating star. E!’s daily gossip show Talk Soup does provide dynamic, up-to-date accounts of a star society. But the show is more of a forum for other gossip guests, not a gossip-getter

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itself. “Talking gossip heads,” including Perez and other gossip bloggers, now regularly appear to dish on specific stars or subjects. What’s more, a onetime broadcast requires the viewer to be present at a certain time, in a fixed location. But the Internet, with the mobilization enabled by wireless technology and PDA devices, is accessible at all times, in nearly all places. Because Hilton posts continuously throughout the day, the consumer can check in several times, charting the progress of a celebrity event; the sheer volume of posts allows for a more minute examination of rises and falls. In this way, Hilton’s blog proves reflexive: it serves not only as a detector of public disfavor but a catalyst for it as well. Farming gossip from a variety of sources, Hilton disseminates this “news” to an audience of millions, thus amplifying public awareness. Even if a star was not previously in public disfavor, the fact that Perez reports that she is effectively morphs rumor into reality, working to bolster or break the economic value of a star. Hilton’s treatment of “TomKat” (gossip’s moniker for Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes) exemplifies this relationship between blogging and the star’s economic value. In a post from June 1, 2005, just weeks after the first public appearance of the couple in Rome, Hilton highlights a suggestive gossip bit. Quoting the National Enquirer’s story of Cruise gifting Holmes with a “hightech GPS phone” that could “track her whereabouts, minute by minute,” Hilton follows with his own commentary: “That story is just so ridiculously sublime, who cares if it’s true!” Here, Hilton’s afterthought is significant— while he acknowledges that the gossip may be far-fetched, his perpetuation of such a story subtly influences the reader to believe that regardless of its veracity, such behavior may be believably attributed to the stars in question. Put differently, even a story acknowledged as fake may influence a star’s image, simply by associating that star with a certain type of behavior. Such stories also set a precedent: From June 1st on, Hilton posted dozens of quips concerning Cruise’s purported micromanagement and “control-freak” antics with fiancée Holmes. Each story made the next more believable, leading to Hilton’s speculation that Holmes was paid by Cruise to bear his child in synchronization with the premiere of Mission: Impossible III. Once again, it matters little whether or not Cruise actually paid Holmes. What matters is that the item was so heavily circulated by Hilton and other bloggers that it has appreciably deteriorated Cruise’s star.5 Granted, print gossip was publishing the same bits of gossip, but pressure from advertisers and libel laws generally hold them more responsible for the factualness of their gossip. What’s more, the frequency with which Hilton blogged these bits substantially intensified their effect and influence —as discussed later, the categorization function of the blog allows the reader to click on a link labeled “TomKat” and read Hilton’s critical posts in succession, further intensifying the negative sentiment and suspicion of Cruise.

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Mission: Impossible 3 opened with a disappointing $48 million in domestic box office —a stellar number for most films but well below the opening weekends of both Mission Impossible 2 (Woo, 2000) and War of the Worlds (Spielberg 2005), a statistic that lead CBS “blogophile” Melissa McNamara to title her May 10 article “Did Bloggers Doom M:i:III?” McNamara cites Hilton’s call for a boycott of the film as a potential explanation for its underwhelming performance, quoting his May 5th post proclaiming, “If you believe that good should triumph over evil . . . if you believe in the power of the people, democracy, free speech, and popping pills. . . . Then join the campaign!”6 Clearly a blogger with Hilton’s readership may potentially alter public perception of a star. With the release of M:i:III, the evidence leads us to believe that he may likewise possess the power, even more than print gossip, to influence the economic value of a star. Perez’s ability to economically affect a star thus established, the question remains: Why would he choose to do so? Perez effectively launched a campaign against Cruise and his movie, but to suggest he did so arbitrarily is to neglect one of the juiciest rumors in Hollywood: namely, that Cruise is an intensely closeted homosexual. Perez promotes/demotes a star based on their skill of production: For him, one practice particularly denotes an inattention to the current attitude of star consumers and that is a refusal to come out of the closet. For Perez, denying one’s homosexuality reinforces what he views as the “myth” of gayness as box office poison—stars who view homosexuality as a potentially negative component to their star images are woefully ignorant of burgeoning societal acceptance on all fronts.7 Furthermore, and perhaps even more economically importantly, such thinking neglects the homosexual community as star consumers. Many homosexuals, especially self-identifying queens such as Perez, have embraced the “fabulousness” of Hollywood glamour as part of their external culture. As homosexuals statistically enjoy relatively large sums of expendable income, they should be acknowledged and appreciated as a significant segment of star consumers.8 In other words, for Perez, neglecting or insulting such a key segment of the consuming public constitutes poor image production values and merits exposure and ridicule through his blog. FAGALICIOUS: PEREZ AND OUTING Perez self-identifies as an “outing” homosexual. While the first waves of massive outing resulted from deaths by AIDS in the 1990s, many homosexuals, following the lead of Michael Musto and Michaelangelo Signorile, came to regard outing as a moral obligation to the gay community. As Richard Mohr explains in Gay Ideas, “to accept the closet is to have absorbed society’s view of gays, to accept insult so that one avoids harm.”9 Perez wholeheartedly espouses this ideology, inspiring both criticism and praise.10 As Mohr

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elaborates, “to break such a community-defining convention is to appear to be a traitor to the community. But what appears as treason to some can actually be social reform, as exemplified by civil disobedience, in which, when one breaks a current convention, one hopes thereby to establish a morally improved community.”11 While Perez does not use the exact rhetoric, he, like many others, believes that there is no “right” to any closet, especially the celebrity closet.12 Perez hints at the homosexuality of a number of celebrities—Cruise, John Travolta, Clay Aiken, Jodie Foster, Queen Latifah, among others. His disdain for these celebrities hinges on what he perceives as their refusal to emerge from their very obvious closets. He disseminates this criticism through a number of channels, from the boycott of M:i:III to calling his readers to send flowers (and providing a link to do so through ftd.com) to both closeted and open homosexuals on National Coming Out Day. Starting in September 2005, Perez embarked on a full-fledged campaign to out former N’Sync’er Lance Bass. He focused on slips in Bass’s production of a straight image—for example, Hilton coined the term “man-sharing” to explain the fact that Bass and friend Reichen Lehmkuhl, an openly gay reality star, were consistently photographed wearing each other’s clothing. Perez was not only criticizing Bass’ refusal to come out but his faulty image production. Hilton’s efforts culminated in the July 26th, 2006, cover of People Magazine, with a picture of Bass and the announcement “I’M GAY.” Members of Bass’s family had read bits on his purported homosexuality in blogs such as Perez’s, leading the actor to at last publicly proclaim his sexuality. Perez defended his actions, explaining, “I know there is some controversy about outing people, but I also believe the only way we’re gonna have change is with visibility. . . . if I have to drag some people screaming out of the closet, then I will. I think that lots of celebrities have an archaic fear that being gay will hurt their career but look at Rosie. Look at Ellen.”13 Indeed, coming out has served as an immense boost to Bass’s formerly stagnant career—supporting Hilton’s underlying assertion that coming out isn’t just a moral obligation, it’s an aspect of economic production.14 In 2001, Cruise filed suit against Chad Taylor, aka Kyle Bradford, over an interview with international magazine Acustar in which the former porn star claimed to have engaged in a homosexual affair with Cruise. The Complaint of Defamation, available in full at The Smoking Gun, claims: Bradford’s defamatory remarks are of the kind calculated to cause Cruise harm in his profession and his ability to earn [. . .] Losing the respect and enthusiasm of a substantial segment of the movie-going public would cause Cruise very substantial sums. While the plaintiff believes in the right of others to follow their own sexual preference, vast numbers of public throughout the world do not share that view and believing that he had a

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homosexual affair and did so during his marriage, they will be less inclined to patronize Cruise’s films.15

In other words, Cruise believes that public insinuation of homosexual activities will damage his star image and, in the process, his economic value. Perez’s criticism of Cruise is thus double-sided: If Cruise is indeed gay, he is not only shirking his personal responsibility to the homosexual community but perpetuating what Hilton views as an antiquated equation of homosexuality with economic depreciation. Cruise has produced and profited from an unambiguously heterosexual star image. As an actively outing gay man, Perez subverts Cruise’s meticulous production, calling attention to the manner in which Cruise has constructed himself, focusing on his overly public relationship with Holmes. Through posts and gossip proliferation, Perez supplants Cruise’s star image with one of his own: as a closeted homosexual whose efforts at production are so poor, so out of touch with society, that bloggers could pull them apart and expose them to the consuming public. In essence, Cruise misjudged his consumers—his conspicuous heterosexual displays only bolstered Hilton’s claims. Perez claims, “being gay is not a death sentence in show business. We need to get out of that mind frame. It’s 2006, people!”16 And in 2006, while being gay may no longer economically kill a star, being the target of Perez’s production-exposing blog very well may. MANIPULATION Dyer positions manipulation as the second component of the phenomenon of star production. In his conception, “out of this emphasis on manufacture, there develops an account of the star system as ‘pure’ manipulation. That is, both stardom and particular star are seen as owing their existence solely to the machinery of their production.”17 Hilton and the gossip blogger function as star manipulators themselves but likewise put pressure on the idea that Hollywood can manipulate an image to please the public. Gossip bloggers are simultaneously engaged in and critical of the system—pointing to its holes as they stitch themselves into the fabric. Perez’s choice of “cousin”/namesake, Paris Hilton, exemplifies this paradoxical practice.18 Interestingly, the underpinning of “Perez” and his blog is the empty promise of a star—and not just any star, but Paris Hilton, who has built her celebrity on being nothing but herself and doing nothing but existing. Paris Hilton is what Daniel Boorstin defines as a “pseudo event”; or, as Dyer summarizes, a star who “appear[s] to be meaningful but [is] in fact empty of meaning. Thus a star is well-known for her/his well-knownness, and not for any specific quality.” Perez, like Paris, is a signifier of celebrity. People talk to him, give him clothes, and feature him in articles not because of any talent

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of his own but for becoming well-known through his association with stars. In similar fashion, Perez has manipulated his image through his blog to be that of the quintessential “schwag-seeking” star-lover. These are their public “personalities,” but as Boorstin points out, “stars do not have a strong character, but a definable, publicizable personality: a figure which can become a nationally-advertised trademark.”19 Both Paris and Perez perform as “nationally-advertised” trademarks: They trade public appearances for cash, make outlandish statements to generate press, and sell their image, whether on t-shirts or lunchboxes, to the highest bidder. The persona, Web site, graphics, catchphrases, and content of Perez Hilton and perezhilton.com are all legally trademarked. Such immaculate control over a rather outlandish image speaks to an additional facet of Perez’s public persona: his “camp” sensibility. As Susan Sontag notes in her seminal essay, “indeed the essence of Camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration.”20 Reading through Perez’s posts, his love of and revelry in “the spirit of extravagance,” “corny flamboyant femaleness/exaggerated he-man-ness,” and “things-being-what-they’renot”— all hallmarks of camp—is overwhelming.21 Perez commits the bulk of the blog to the lives of high-profile celebrities, but he also consistently celebrates campy idols: “Chyna,” an androgynous professional female wrestler; British glamour model “Jordan,” known for her flamboyant personal life and multiple breast enhancements; plus others as various as singer Ricky Martin and fashion maven Karl Lagerfield. But these pseudo-stars represent only the most exaggerated of Perez’s camp tastes; indeed, these men and women are so fantastically camp that it’s difficult for those unacquainted with camp to appreciate such posts. In contrast, Perez’s attention to Paris Hilton exemplifies a subtler form of camp taste that permeates the blog, based more on a love of surfaces and “instant character” that constructs what Sontag refers to as “a mode of enjoyment, of appreciation—not judgment.”22 Paris may very well be “empty of meaning”—she has manipulated her image to be that of a jet-setting, spoiled, ditzy fashionista, nothing but surface and image, as one-dimensional as the photos that appear on the screen in front of us. Producing such a tightly controlled image, devoid of nuance or complication, is a feat worthy of celebration. Perez lauds Paris’s immaculate self-construction, but the manner in which he does so—with an underlying sense of camp —effectively undercuts the seriousness with which Paris takes herself. For camping, at its heart, is innately duplicitous: There is a “straight,” public sense of a thing, contrasted with a “private, zany experience.”23 Put differently, there is the way that the star means her image to be perceived and the very different way that camp receives it. Reveling in this disparity between intended and received meaning, camp makes the means of manipulation obvious to the point of enjoyment. With his blog, Perez has free license

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to camp writ large —blogging to an audience of millions; he lets others in on what has long been a members-only form of humor. Perez characterized his early career by lambasting Paris on a regular basis—in a post from November 5, 2005, Perez proclaims “Paris’ new book allows YOU the opportunity to confess your deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets to the bitch that’s . . . outskanked you and whom we all aspire to be!” But in the last year and a half, Paris and Perez have become “friends”: Perez has posted dozens of photos documenting his attendance at various events hosted or attended by Paris. Here, the celebrity blogger is interpolated into the world of the pseudo-event. While the photos undoubtedly assist in manipulating Perez’s own star image as gossip authority, the fact that the photos are sweaty, somewhat unattractive, ordinary, and even boring affects the star of both Hiltons in a different way. By posing for and posting these photos, Perez reifies the pseudo-event of both Paris and himself; at the same time, he calls attention to the fact that Paris has normal, boring house parties like anyone else —exposing the cracks in her image as impeccably styled socialite. Such exposure was made possible by new media. The fact that Perez could attend a party by himself, shoot dozens of pictures on his digital camera, and post those photos the next morning attests to the immediacy of the blogger. Usually, gossip mongers are forced to wait for paparazzi photos to accompany their columns, which are published weekly or daily. Perez transcends the traditional model by going to the celebrity herself, documenting the night, posting it on his blog, and making it an event. Lev Manovich emphasizes, “with new media, a new area has emerged. As ‘professional technology’ becomes accessible to amateurs, new media professionals create new standards, formats, and design expectations to maintain their status.”24 Amateur photographer and Web designer Perez takes blurry photos on his digital camera. He posts them to his blog using a preset template. Yet, these, and other photos posted to the “Personally Perez” section of the site, have worked to close the gap between “professional” blog sites—Gawker is a good example of a slick, professional site—and “amateur” sites such as Hilton’s. If Perez is getting the first-hand scoop, he maintains his status, regardless of amateur standards. Or, better yet, Perez’s style —first-hand star-loving, low production standards, camp humor—becomes the new standard. FASHION Celebrity fashion has always generated gossip, and Internet gossip takes no less of an interest. While fashion may appear the purest, most superficial form of manipulation, as I. C. Jarvie points out, “one function a star serves is to fix a type of beauty, to help a physical type identify itself.”25 In this way, “types of beauty” are made to “define attractiveness.”26 Dyer likewise asserts

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that a change in fashion is a change in social meaning—when a star dyes her hair from blonde to red, for example, it constitutes a change in the social meaning of her star. If, as previously asserted, stars rise and fall because of the ability of their individual social meanings to resonate within society, then a change in fashion can prove disastrous or fortuitous. The gossip blog does more than display the fashion of the star—through the innate functions of the blog, it subtly calls attention to fashion as a means of production. Perez Hilton is by no means the blogging authority on fashion. For sites devoted to celebrity fashion, see The Sartorialist or Manolo’s Shoe Blog. With that said, Perez, like all those interested in celebrity gossip, cannot escape commentary, criticism, and promotion of fashion. The dependence of Internet gossip on visual imagery makes it a constant topic: With each picture, one is immediately drawn to comment on appearance—clothes, face, hair, shoes, skin tone, hands—and use it as a starting point for interpreting the meaning or significance of the photo. Perez’s camp sensibilities naturally translate to an attention to fashion and surface. As Dyer explains in his essay “It’s Being So Camp As Gets Us Going,” camp “is a way of prising the form of something away from its content, of reveling in the style while dismissing the content as trivial.”27 Focusing on these elements of style, Perez has his clear favorites and, of course, his subjects of consistent ridicule. What distinguishes Hilton’s treatment of fashion from print media lies in two key components to the blog: categorization and reader response. Blogs often build sorting and categorizing options into their design. Perez’s categorizing method is rather straight-forward: Each photo receives several tags, one for each star pictured, plus additional tags if it falls into a Perez–pre-established category, including “Gay Gay Gay,” “Fashion Smashion,” “Fun ’n’ Fluff,” and “SIGHtings.” As evidenced by the titles, in sorting a picture into an established category, Perez establishes the meaning of the photo—for example, a photo of Jake Gyllenhaal and a male friend working out, once filed under “Gay Gay Gay,” takes on new significance. The same holds true for Perez’s labeling of fashion: Placing a photo in “Fashion Smashion,” as opposed to “Fashion & Beauty,” automatically tips off the reader as to the intended meaning. Print media uses a similar technique to distinguish between the front pages (filled with celebs wearing beautiful dresses) and the back pages (“What Were They Thinking,” fashion designer critique of fashion mistakes, etc.). The blog one-ups the fashion mag with its ability to catalog all “Fashion Smashion” posts, from one week to one year ago, in one easily clickable location. Manovich calls attention to the manner in which New Media creates “predefined menus” (Perez’s database of photos, sorted into categories) prepped for user-selection, a process that allows “end users [to] feel that they are not just consumers but ‘authors’ creating a new media object or experience.”28 When a reader uses the “StarSeeker” pull-down menu to select a category, he is creating his own experience of the blog, viewing

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it in a completely different form, order, and context than it was originally displayed. This power of authorship over one’s own gossip experience takes on particular meaning when applied to fashion. Scrolling through the “Fashion Smashion” section, posts that initially appeared in no relation to each other coexist on the same page. Jennifer Lopez appears smartly dressed and styled in a post titled “THIS is why Jennifer Lopez is a style icon” followed by a picture of Kirsten Dunst, hair and dress haphazard, stumbling down the street. The contrast changes the meaning of the original post—Lopez’s fashion sense and classiness are heightened, while Dunst’s are lessened. In this way, Perez assists in establishing stars as superlatives—an idea key to Dyer’s conception of the star. Perez’s sorting allows the reader to insinuate Lopez as the “most stylish,” while Dunst becomes the “most bag-ladyish.” The star thus “dissolves into the superlative, [is] indistinguishable from it, they become superlative.”29 Hilton pressures notions of fashion by inviting readers to comment on or decide whether an outfit, dye job, or new look is attractive. On May 8, Hilton posted a picture of Jessica Simpson presenting at the 2006 ALMA Awards, which honor Hispanics in Hollywood. Hilton challenged his readers to examine Simpson’s curly auburn bob, tightly fitted orange dress, and deeply bronzed skin, and debate “Jessica Simpson’s New Look: Love it or Leave it? YOU Decide!” Over 300 reader comments follow, including “She looks like an oompa loompa,” and “Does anyone else ever notice that in some pictures she looks like an old ass Texan grandma?” As the comments proceed, they transcend mere fashion commentary, declaring, “She is trying way too hard these days to be something she not,” “She and her sister symbolize everything that is wrong with our culture,” and “kinda racist to go in black face (or in this case ‘brown face’) to the ALMA awards, no?” Here, we see a change in fashion denote a change in social meaning: As opposed to her former All-American, blonde-haired, innocent image, this picture encapsulates the change in Simpson’s star and social meaning following her divorce from Nick Lachay. From reader responses, we gather that she appears as an absurd and fake chameleon, racially insensitive, and an embodiment of “all that’s wrong with our country.” While many visitors to Hilton’s site do not participate in or read comments, such commentary nevertheless documents greater societal reactions.30 Unlike letter sections in print gossip, these responses are immediate, uncensored, and interactive—they feed on one another, constructing an overarching sentiment toward the star and his/her fashion choice. In this way, they constitute a veritable goldmine of public opinion, a way to monitor how society feels about a particular star at a particular moment. As celebrities are dependent on visual imagery to maintain their presence in society, fashion will most likely always be a determining factor in their popularity. Gossip bloggers represent a heightened awareness of fashion—not

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only through their ability to post large numbers of images but also through the particular characteristics of the blog that pronounce and reify the social meaning of each fashion choice and, by direct association, the star who wears it. MAGIC AND TALENT Public sense of a star’s “magic and talent” likewise influences production and consumption. Dyer explains that “a very common view . . . though not intellectually very respectable, is that stars are stars because they are exceptional, gifted, wonderful.”31 If we accept this idea, then we must determine at what an actor is exceptional or gifted—according to Dyer, the skill is “not ‘acting’ in the classic sense, as numerable examples show. Skill then at being a certain sort of person or image.”32 Hilton and his blog showcase magic and talent in becoming “a certain sort of image” in two ways, functioning as pure fan and as critical observer. There is no doubt that Hilton is a fan. It seems a requisite for blogging with such frequency and passion. When dealing with his favorite stars (Paris, Madonna, Janet Jackson, Britney Spears, and Angelina Jolie), Hilton is not shy in expressing adoration. The words “brazilliant,” “hot,” and “this is why we love” convey affection and admiration. For Perez, such admiration is often explicitly linked to a smart self-marketing move on the part of the star. On April 16th, following the birth of Gwyneth Paltrow’s son Moses, Perez posted the following: Do the laws of supply and demand apply to the paparazzi? Gwyneth Paltrow hopes so! The new mom to Moses was glowing as she carefully unveiled her new baby boy to the world, in front of A LOT of paparazzi, which means that no one particular shot will be worth more than the other. In fact, all of them will be worth probably the same and the market will be saturated with that shot. Knowing Paltrow, she will probably not keep new baby Moses in hiding, hoping that by doing the same repetitive tasks with the baby each day—maybe even wearing the same clothes—the paparazzi will see no monetary incentive to follow her around every day. Yay for economics! Enjoy your mommy time Gwyneth.

With this post, Perez lays bare the economics of the paparazzi and Paltrow’s savvy manipulation of them. With her baby’s photo so readily available, the market will close for new pictures, allowing Paltrow and her family privacy from the paparazzi. In a similar vein, following the much-anticipated birth of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s daughter Shiloh Nouvel, Perez posted, “She’s such a smart cookie! On the same day The Baby was born, Santa Angelina had her lawyers snatch up the domain name ShilohNouvelJolie-Pitt.com. Crafty!” (May 31st). His praise for Jolie is not based on any acting skill but

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on her knowledge and control of the media. Control over media extends to control over one’s own image; the tighter hold a celebrity possesses of his/ her own image, the more authentically magic and talented he/she appears. One may readily discern who does or does not have “magic and talent” in Perez’s eyes through observation of his posting styles. In his opinion, there are two categories of stars: those who deserve to be famous and those who do not. His posts concerning “real” stars focus on lifestyles: their ability to present themselves as a particular “type” through commodity consumption. In these posts, the woman is presented as “spectacle”—her clothes, her children, her dining habits are deconstructed and analyzed, all because she is interesting enough (talented enough) to garner such attention. Put differently, she deserves the attention of the media, Perez, and his readership, for she has produced her image so skillfully as to appear seamless, believable, real. Conversely, celebrities who do not deserve attention are ridiculed for their attempts at spectacle. Their displays of conspicuous consumption—as defined by Dyer, “the way by which the wealthy display that they are wealthy;” the very backbone of the star lifestyle—are criticized instead of celebrated.33 Perez calls attention to stars that continue to posture as famous long after the capital of their talent has been exhausted—favorite examples include Jennifer Love Hewitt, Tori Spelling, and former boy band members. Unlike the caricatures of celebrity in which Perez revels, these stars land somewhere between the truly magical and the truly camp; they are neither a pure construction nor pure talent but a sad mess in between. In the language of camp, they’re simply not “bad” enough to be good. THE NATURE OF THE MEDIUM Dyer stresses the manner in which “the close-up reveals the unmediated personality of the individual, and this belief in the ‘capturing’ and the ‘unique’ ‘person’ of a performer is probably central to the star phenomena.”34 The close-up, a key element to narrative cinema, should create what Bela Balazs terms a “silent monologue,” forming a connection between the star and the viewer. The “medium” of Dyer and Balazs’s discussion is film, but the same principle may be readily applied to the Internet blog. The medium in question is both the celebrity photo and the blog; their collective nature performs a specific function in connecting or alienating the viewer from the star. In his essay “The Face of Garbo,” Roland Barthes draws attention to the power of the close-up. Barthes asserts that, “Garbo still belongs to that moment in cinema when capturing the human face still plunged audiences into the deepest ecstasy, when one literally lost oneself in a human image as one would in a philter, when the face represented a kind of absolute state of the flesh, which could be neither reached nor renounced.”35 He concludes that, “the face of Garbo reconciles two iconographic ages, it assures the passage

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from awe to charm,” situating Audrey Hepburn and her “unique specification of the face, which has nothing of the essence left in it” as the face of charm. As such, “Garbo’s singularity was of the order of the concept, that of Audrey Hepburn is of the order of the substance. The face of Garbo is an Idea, that of Hepburn an Event.”36 Barthes was writing in the late ’50s, but this idea of cultural significance connected to the close-up still applies. With New Media, we have moved to yet another iconographic age: from awe to charm to disbelief. If the face of Garbo is an Idea, and Hepburn’s face is an Event, then the face of Jessica Simpson, of Angelina Jolie, of Paris Hilton is a Question. Is the photo real? Have wrinkles been airbrushed; have the lips had collagen injections? Has the picture been manipulated to represent an idea or event that does not, in fact, exist? Whose image has been recycled to form that of the new celebrity? In short, Photoshop and digital technology have forever altered the meaning of the close-up and the celebrity photograph in general, working to endlessly question the signs of star production. As a thoroughly postmodern facet of new media, Photoshop allows for perpetual reselection: If a celebrity doesn’t like her lips, they may be airbrushed to resemble another set, one more compatible with her desired image. In this way, “rather than assembling more media recordings of reality, culture is now busy reworking, recombining, and analyzing already accumulated media material.”37 To put it in Manovich’s terms, a star is thus the “author” of the “object” of her image; as she composites her image from pieces that she did not create, “the creative energy of the author goes into the selection and sequencing of elements rather than into original design.”38 Production of star image in postmodern times dictates a process of selection, attempting to reproduce the awe and charm of earlier un(digitally)mediated stars. The resulting image is an attempted semblance to the ideas of awe and charisma made iconic in the faces of both Garbo and Hepburn. Hilton and his fellow gossip bloggers call attention to the mediation that occurs in the postmodern, Photoshop-dependent era. In other words, gossip bloggers attempt to answer the question posed by the images of contemporary stars, repeatedly addressing issues of manipulation. Wielding his own rudimentary knowledge of Photoshop, Perez uses the “paint” function to point to specific questions of production. In this way, Perez denies stars the chance to author themselves by drawing attention to their attempts. With a picture of Victoria Beckham posted March 7, 2006, Hilton declares, “Victoria Beckham would be so pretty . . . if she hadn’t had so many damn procedures.” In the accompanying photo, four hand “painted” arrows point to Beckham’s nose, cheeks, brow, and breasts. This photo, along with dozens of others posted under the category “Knifestyles,” make visible the question of the mediated image, simultaneously providing an answer. Perez, like many other gossip bloggers, follows Beckham very closely, and with good reason: Like Paris, she is composed only wholly of surfaces, a

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true pseudo-event. She first came to fame as a member of The Spice Girls, a group composed of five women, each of whom took on a singular personality characteristic to be emphasized through their dress, attitude, and general image. The group was extravagant, enormously successful, and wholly dependent on surface-level stereotype: pure camp. Beckham, formerly Victoria Adams, was labeled “Posh Spice,” a look she manifested in the form of short black dresses, heavy eyeliner, and disinterested stares in public appearances, a somewhat blunt evocation of classic Hollywood sophistication. Beckham’s current look is a selection of past “posh” looks, revamped in order to disassociate herself from the connotations of her old image, that is, fake, cheap glamour. Beckham is attempting to “author” herself. After several failed albums, Beckham’s former avenue to stardom is essentially blocked. The only way for her to still be a star is to continue appearing in public as a star. In other words, she “shows up” places where one is certain to be photographed, such as Ivy in London, Koi in Los Angeles, or at Fashion Week in Paris, in outfi ts that solidify her selected posh image. The contents of Beckham’s category on Hilton’s Web site are variations on this self-same theme: Posh dines out with fashionable husband; Posh goes skiing in all leather; Posh tries on shoes with Katie Holmes at Barney’s. Regarded collectively, they illuminate Beckham’s attempt at image production. Beckham, along with stylish, soccer-star husband, David Beckham, has successfully acquired the visual accouterments and commodities of a posh lifestyle. To sustain her star, Victoria Beckham need only sustain her established image, even if this process necessitates plastic surgery and a suspected eating disorder. If the reader selects the Victoria Beckham category, Perez’s photoshopped post of Beckham’s surgeries appears between numerous others, exclamations of “Feed me!” scrawled beside bony arms and Beckham’s somewhat emaciated face. When regarded as such, Hilton’s posts serve as an amplification and critique of Beckham’s process of image selection. Dyer and Balazs believe that the close-up possesses the ability to connect star to viewer by portraying the uniqueness of the individual. In a world dominated by new media, uniqueness is impossible, even irrelevant—stars succeed in connecting to the individual through their ability to best select pre-established traits, poses, ideas, and images to form a composite of a likable star. The manner in which they do so is heavily reliant on new technology— plastic surgery and Botox, of course, but also new media technologies such as Photoshop, official Web sites, and the proliferation of their image on sites such as Hilton’s. While Hilton and others undeniably take part in the perpetuation of this cycle, republishing photos and reifying images, they likewise draw immediate attention to the cracks in their carefully crafted image. This process represents the new nature of the medium, with skill of construction (and resultant believability) functioning as the key determining factors of a star’s popularity.

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CONCLUSIONS Through his blog, Perez has initiated a new way to perceive stars, using a sort of absolute value scale to evaluate the signs of production. To obtain Perez’s attention and endorsement, a star must be completely surface level—glaring signs of production, pure camp, bad enough to be good—or so skilled at production as to erase such signs entirely. The million-plus readers of his blog have, perhaps obliviously, begun to co-opt this method of judgment. What does this tell us about the state of the star system, the gossip it inspires, and the society that consumes it? To address this question, one must only return to the example of Cruise, a major star for the last 20 years. In 1983, there was something distinctive in the way that Tom Cruise appeared in All the Right Moves (Chapman)—the film opens with shots of his dreary mill town home, shifting to a sleeping Cruise, who awakes with an endearing bleariness, his eyes still sparkling from dreams. Throughout the film, Cruise is earnest, impassioned, and cocky—his set, square jaw; his self-assured flirtation with girlfriend, Lea Redmond; the affected swagger of the 5′6″ man. This film, juxtaposed with Risky Business (Brickman, 1983), released just months apart, is what first made Cruise a star: He appears equally authentic as a home-alone son, taking over the mansion and the scrappy cornerback, desperate for a way to escape the steel legacy of his family. His image, meticulously constructed by top publicist Pat Kingsley, served as the common denominator of the films that solidified Cruise’s star—Top Gun (Scott, 1986), The Color of Money (Scorsese, 1986), Born on the Fourth of July (Stone, 1989). In short, his image was so unified, so believable, that the signs of this construction were invisible.39 In 2002, David Thomson wrote that for Cruise to maintain his star, he would have to “remake himself at every turn—and there may not be enough good people to trust. He is very professional—but is there now a profession?”40 Thomson returns us to an essential realization: While I would not go so far to assert that the profession is completely dead, it’s clear that the star system will never be the same, and the emergence of New Media, gossip blogs included, is the reason. Cruise was often likened to another broad shouldered lady’s man by the name of Clark Gable, and for a time, he seemed ready to join the colossal stars of the past—Gable, Grant, Garbo, Hepburn—as one who could play both the everyday and the extraordinary. He was simultaneously likable—you could be pals, if he moved into the rambler next door—but, at the same time, on a completely different level, untouchable, godlike, a Top Gun, worthy of devotion and admiration. A large part of that which established the above stars was a conflation of star image and star role—the fact that Cary Grant married his fifth wife at age 76 only reinforced his image as the ultimate likable cad; you looked at a picture of

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him, watched a film of his, heard gossip about him, and it all fed back to a single united image, so immensely attractive in its harmonized message. What has changed, then, and where Cruise has run into trouble, is that in the age of New Media, there are no colossal stars, nor will there ever be. No one is larger than life—rather, they are manipulated simulacrums of life. With New Media, there are simply too many aspects of the image, too many roads leading to a permanently decentralized Rome. I am in no way asserting that the images of Gable, Garbo, or Grant were not, at their heart, constructions—the public was more accepting then; there were fewer discourses surrounding the star, which allowed the viewer to forgo skepticism, finding herself willing to believe. The problem, then, is that we are no longer willing to believe anything—we have been disillusioned and made skeptical by so much technology, so much manipulation, that perhaps the only film that we are willing to believe is that of a plane flying into the World Trade Center. And even then, there’s a cult of doubting conspiracy theorists. Tom Cruise has fallen from the limelight because he attempted to make the shift from twentieth- and twenty-first-century star, trading his rare appearances and relative secrecy for overexposure and outspokenness.41 Before our current age of digitalization, Cruise’s infamous couch-jumping would have been documented and disseminated but, after a few months, perhaps forgotten, fading from public consciousness. New Media, however, allows that tape to be circulated and viewed again and again, its audio track morphed into a dance remix. The legends of the early stars of cinema were in large part attributed to the novelty of the medium, and we have become wearied, disaffected, and unimpressed by mere film projection. We clamor for the next level, demanding immediate access to photos, film, music, and gossip. We are addicted to the likes of Perez Hilton because he feeds us exactly what we want: He makes visible the signs of production, telling us where to direct our consumption. Our inability to be awed, our reluctance to believe—this is what has changed the star system. As a film scholar, I suppose I thrive on my own ability to make visible the signs of production, to draw attention to why we like stars. In this way, I am not so different from Perez—I write scholarly papers, he posts snarky posts—but we both concentrate on and call attention to the machinery of Hollywood. At the same time, I’m saddened by my own assertion that we will never again believe enough in anything to hold it up for true adoration. But Perez and I grew up in the ’80s, when Cruise, Madonna, and Michael Jackson were indeed larger than life—they were still something to believe in, especially as children. So long as our generation is a part of Hollywood—both as scholars and gossips, viewers and fans—then a modicum of fascination and adoration will remain. I do wonder, however, what will occur when my own children, the babies of New Media, are born into a world that is rapidly

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becoming digitalized and, as such, turning into an immense image of itself, an overwhelming Question—what will remain for them to believe in, and who will think it important, as both Perez and I so obviously do, to tell them the answers? NOTES 1. “Paramount: Cruise is Risky Business.” CNNMoney.com. 23 August 2006. http:// money.cnn.com/2006/08/22/news/newsmakers/cruise_paramount/index.htm?cnnyes (accessed 10 October 2006). 2. Paul McDonald, The Star System (London: Wallflower, 2000), 2. 3. Richard Dyer, Stars (London: BFI, 1998), 35. 4. Dyer, Stars, 11. 5. At the time of writing, Mission: Impossible 3, with a domestic gross of $133 million (compared with a budget of $150 million+) clearly performed far below expectations. 6. Melissa McNamara, “Did Bloggers Doom M-I-iii?” CBS News Online. 10 May 2006. http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2006/05/09/blogophile/main1600758.shtml (accessed 16 May 2006). 7. Bear in mind, this is more of a suggestive hopeful vision than reality: While Perez asserts that star consumers have become accepting of homosexuality, in reality, coming out would in all probability significantly decrease Cruise’s earning power. 8. According to a survey conducted by the Simmons Market Research Bureau, gays represent the ultimate “DINK” market—Double Income, No Kids. The annual value of the gay and lesbian market exceeds $514 billion; the average household income for gay men was $52,624, 41 percent above the national average. 9. Richard Mohr, Gay Ideas: Outing and Other Controversies (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992), 31. 10. In a post from July 14th, 2006, in response to criticism from the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation for speculating about sexuality, Perez writes, “We don’t have the support of our people, and we love it! If we’re hated, that means we’re doing something right. . . . We don’t need your support, bitches. Michael Musto has been outing people for years, and he is our hero!” 11. Mohr, Gay Ideas, 28. 12. As he proclaims in a broadcast of Ring My Bell, posted on perezhilton.com on October 18th, 2006, “if you’re a celebrity or a politician, you’re fair game.” 13. “Did Gossip Blogger Out Lance Bass?” MSNBC.com. 27 July 2006. http://www. msnbc.msn.com/id/14065223/from/ET/ (accessed 15 October 2006). 14. Bass is currently developing a reality show for UPN; in October of 2006, Bass and Reichen were presented with the Human Rights Campaign Visibility Award. 15. “Tom Cruise v. Chad Slater aka Kyle Bradford.” Thesmokingun.com. 2 May 2001. http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/chadslater1.html (accessed 15 October 2006). 16. “Did Gossip Blogger Out Lance Bass?”; While Perez remains firm in his stance that coming out as a homosexual will not damage one’s career, I must agree with Cruise: His star image is predicated on such an intense sense of masculinity that

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coming out as a homosexual would undoubtedly deharmonize his constructed image. Granted, Perez seems to be arguing that his attempts at hiding his homosexuality— his relationship with Cruise in particular—have already enacted such a deharmoniza tion. . . . so why not come out? 17. Dyer, Stars, 13. 18. In a recently televised Queer Edge interview, Perez explains the genesis of his name as such: While club-hopping on New Year’s Eve in Miami, as they left each club, the promoter would exclaim “Oh don’t leave—Paris Hilton is coming later.” According to Hilton, after the third or fourth club, he realized that Paris Hilton definitely wasn’t coming—they were simply using the promise of her name to convince people to stay and buy more drinks. He turned to his friends and announced, “Puhlease, Paris Hilton is not showing up, but Perez Hilton might!” Watch the interview in its entirety at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOOcM6lEu7c&search=perez %20hilton; Dyer, Stars, 13. 19. Daniel Boorstin, The Image (London: Widenfeld and Nicolson, 1962), 162. 20. Susan Sontag, Against Interpretation, (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1968), 275. 21. Sontag, Against Interpretation, 279–83. 22. Sontag, Against Interpretation, 286, 290. 23. Sontag, Against Interpretation, 281. 24. Lev Manovich, The Language of New Media (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2001), 120. 25. I. C. Jarvie, Towards a Sociology of the Cinema (London: Routledge, 1970), 14. 26. Ibid. 27. Richard Dyer, The Culture of Queers (New York: Routledge, 2002), 43. 28. Manovich, The Language, 125. 29. Dyer, Stars, 43. 30. Reader-response also provides a forum for the debate over Perez’s outing. Following an August 6th post in which Perez asserts the homosexuality of Clay Aiken, “Nancy” responds: “Once again, Perez. . . . It is not your right nor is it your responsibility to out someone—and to even ask people to do the dirty work for you. What is up with that? It is nothing short of vicious.” “Katie” expands this thought further, writing, “Just because you are a flamboyantly and openly gay person and that works for you, doesn’t mean that it will work for everyone. Your work and much of your image, or ‘gimmick’ per say, is based on being gay. This is not true for Clay Aiken. He found fame through American Idol. A majority of American Idol’s viewers are religious middle Americans. Furthermore, America is not yet a country where most of it’s general population can look at an entertainer purley for talent and not judge them based on their personal lives.” 31. Dyer, Stars, 16. 32. Dyer, Stars, 17. 33. Dyer, Stars, 38. 34. Dyer, Stars, 15. 35. Roland Barthes, Mythologies (Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1970), 56. 36. Barthes, Mythologies, 57. 37. Manovich, The Language, 131.

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38. Manovich, The Language, 130. 39. For more on Kingsley and her skill at managing Cruise’s image, see Anne Thompson, “Pitt vs. Cruise: A Tale of Two Publicists,” The Hollywood Reporter, 5 June 2005. 40. David Thomson, The New Biographical Dictionary of Film (New York: Alfred A Knopf, 2002), 193. 41. As Anne Thompson makes clear, this overexposure and outspokenness can be traced to Cruise’s choice of publicist. After firing Pat Kingsley in March of 2004, he hired his sister, Lee Anne DeVette, also a Scientologist. DeVette served as Cruise’s publicist until November 2005, at which point Cruise replaced her with veteran publicist Paul Bloch. Although DeVette’s official reason for leaving was to spend more time with various philanthropies, the move is widely regarded as part of Cruise’s strategy to rehabilitate his image.

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chapter 12

Big Bucks and Fake Tears: Celebrity Journalism’s Hyperreality Zachary Snider

How else to represent this new world than through post-modernist flatness? The post-modernist motto is: You can’t beat trash culture, so join it. —Todd Gitlin CAREER FORMATION IN THE HYPERREALITY MATRIX At the impressionable age of 20, I was hired by the Manhattan branch of what, for purposes of this chapter, I’ll call Stars Today, which, for decades, has been America’s beloved daily syndicated entertainment news show. For the past nine years I have served as an associate producer for Stars Today in New York City, Los Angeles, and London, where I worked the press lines for awards shows, film premieres, benefits, and other events and where I animatedly asked stock (but apparently necessary) questions to countless celebrities, including “Who are you wearing?!” and “What are you doing next!?” With boom mics and NTSC tapes flying at my head, the rest of my workdays were spent at film press junkets in private luxury hotel rooms; jam-packed press conferences; in-studio confessional interviews; behind-thescenes of various film shoots; exclusive album recordings; Broadway play rehearsals and backstages; personal viewings of celebrity homes; among innumerable other celeb-infested events. As a nonthreatening (and uncommonly innocent-looking, which always opens more doors in this industry) young blond male (still) under 30, I became a very trusted entertainment

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television Boy Wonder, at the demanding side of the executive and coordinating producers and high-profile PR agents with whom I had established professional relationships, on both sides of the Atlantic. The purpose of this chapter is a proposal, or a pleading, perhaps, for viewers to heighten their sense of awareness, of perception and interpretation, of what news—both (supposed) hard and soft news—presents to them. With visual media serving as humanity’s best and allegedly most-trusted friend in the twenty-first century, particularly for the Millennial generation, many regular television viewers do not initially realize that nearly every news segment transmitted via satellite is editorialized for competitive and capitalistic gain and that actual “reality,” or “hyper-reality,” as Baudrillard refers to the mass media’s format of “projected reality,” can never be actual reality at all. Even as someone who has been a manipulator of media for his entire professional life thus far, I, too, like any other television viewer, inevitably fall prey to the hyperrealistic ideas unconsciously absorbed by my oft-media-dictated and -affected psyche. Prior to being hired by Stars Today, I had conducted celebrity interviews and written feature stories for my university newspaper, as well as having spent a year on the editorial staff of a renowned Manhattan theater magazine, for whom I interviewed and wrote articles about “stars” of the stage, screen, and television. As a ravenous young adult, barely into college I knew I wanted to hang out with celebrities for a living because I had spent my childhood and adolescence seeing all of their films, buying their CDs and cassette tapes, and video-recording their TV shows. This American popular culture obsession is certainly not uncommon. I can only imagine how affected my celebinfected mind would have fared as a teenager in the twenty-first century, since, from Facebook to Flavor of Love, the Millennial generation’s philosophical intuitions of every aspect of their lives seem to be shaped solely by celebrity culture. In college, when my peers were happily doing keg stands and shot-gunning Keystone, I was in a tuxedo at the Tonys, a Ferragamo jacket at the MTV Video Awards, or illegally sipping Veuve Clicquot at a Julia Roberts tribute gala. My entire adult life thus far has consisted of conditioning my formerly sheltered suburban mind to understand the plights and puppeteered dichotomies of the “celebrity brain,” per se, as well as to explore precisely why audiences want what they want. Later, while pursuing my Ph.D. in London, I developed career multiple personality disorder: Mornings I lectured to creative writing, media theory, and literature classes about Foucault’s, Baudrillard’s, Lyotard’s, and Derrida’s concepts on reality (or the lack thereof ), and nightly I would interview current celebrities such as Sienna Miller, all the while pretending to care with whom Jude Law was committing infidelities. Thus, I can completely relate to

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Baudrillard’s characterization of himself: “What I am, I don’t know. I am the simulacrum of myself.”1 I knew I needed to collapse and sprawl across Roland Barthes’s postmodernist couch and hear about the lack of reason in reality, after having to tell my classes, “Sorry, I’ve not finished marking your term papers about ‘Death of the Author’. Um. At the last minute I had to go interview Queen Latifah in Prague.” THE TELEVISION PRODUCER AND HIS OTHER Now, I’ve got at least three different versions of a career Other, one a postmodernist–psychoanalytic theory scholar, another a Hollywood television producer, the third a guilty, a naughty mix of the two. In regards to this formulation of an Other, Toffoletti states: Baudrillard’s displacement of a psychoanalytic model of subject constitution proves immensely significant for forging alternative understandings of subjectivity in contemporary life. In a context where the real gives way to the hyperreal, Baudrillard seeks to put an end to dialectics, to a value system by which identity is forged through differentiation from the Other.2

With this in mind, I myself, after having been submersed in the entertainment industry but having also been inducted into academia, am also an example of Baudrillard’s forged identity of his Other explanation. My version of reality became an entirely skewed version of actual reality, where celebrities seemed to be genuine peers and colleagues in my life, both for work and play. It is our show’s job to pretend for the rest of America that our visual, editorially edited images of celebrities are realistic representations of these televised public figures so that our viewers can forge personal, upfront “relationships” with the celebrities they follow faithfully. Hollywood, and the small celebrity-oriented world within Manhattan, is a sort of plastic Disneyland for those of us who work in television. For comparison’s sake of this ultimate hyperreality, which is not far-off from Hollywood: “It was the controversial French philosopher Jean Baudrillard who pointed out that the true role of Disneyland was not to provide a childlike escape from the reality of life, but to persuade us that the utter fantasy of modern American life is in fact real.”3 As television producers, we are the pushers—the persuaders—of what Baudrillard refers to as this “utter fantasy of American life,” bringing viewers a sort of fantastical Hollywood-as-the-adult-Disneyland slide show of images. We create a fantasy world for our viewers but ironically, if not hypocritically, do our best to make you believe that your fantasy is reality.

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WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT . . . Soon after the turn of the millennium, I worked on a piece for the Michael Jackson Radio City Music Hall tribute, where we produced footage of Jackson and Elizabeth Taylor emerging from a towncar in the middle of midtown with thousands of fans nearby cheering them on. When, in actual reality, a rather mortified midtown crowd had gone disturbingly quiet (which never happens), as though two extra-terrestrials had landed in the center of New York City. Our joyous, cheer-crazy footage hid the actual, realistic moment, which would have appeared like a misplaced scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind. When a mega–pop star released a CD, while producing/fantasizing our warped television reality, we got soundbites from her about how she protected her virginity and stayed away from drinking or drug use. Later, in actual reality, I watched the pop princess, with hands rubbing all over a boyfriend’s clothed private parts, accept drugs and alcohol and partake in her party favors, with her dancers. Our moralistic, promotional segment was the antithesis of the orgy that went on downstairs at a now-defunct club. During another segment, we aired soundbites of a teen heartthrob walking the red carpet into an awards ceremony, proclaiming he was looking for a special lady, while earlier that day I had watched his notoriously overprotective manager grab the star’s rear and kiss him backstage. This was followed by some other homoerotic canoodling backstage during rehearsals, but of course none of this footage was aired, which I’m sure was appreciated by the celebrity and his drooling female fan following. For an entire week in London, we followed around another major star as she promoted her new book. Our footage showed her reading the entire story to a group of inner-city British schoolchildren, all of them captivated by her prose. When, in “actual reality,” more than half of the children had sprawled out on the carpet, napping, whispering loudly to each other, and bored to tears. Later, our crew captured her walking the red carpet into an awards show; we did not air the footage of her skipping the entire show, opting to instead slip out the backstage door into her towncar, after having thanked her fans and announcing how excited she was for the show. But I am not writing a gossip column here. Rather, this is our job. We get paid for this. It is our duty to ignore and erase “actual reality” for the expectation of our fans and the reputation of our celebrity clients. Stated again: We create your fantasy as your desired reality. Every day is comprised of a series of meticulous, manipulative steps to create what Baudrillard refers to as hyperreality, in order to seduce the American public to feature prominently into our Nielson ratings—especially during Sweeps Week, when the most ultradramatic, overhyped stories conveniently emerge, which is also the time of the year when celebrities are most

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promotional of themselves because they know their audiences want to know all their dirty little secrets. Entertainment television producers must have a hybrid, paradoxical version of reality and lead this hybrid life in order to play the middleman between celebrity life and our audience’s actual real lives. ENTERTAINMENT VS. INFORMATION: AMERICAN CULTURE IS POP CULTURE While, for example, I can understand why Daniel Radcliffe and his young Harry Potter costars will never feel like “regular” people due to never getting the chance to develop or even know their true selves; and, for example, I can empathize with Tom Cruise for crazily jumping on Oprah’s couch and subsequently being conveniently “let go” from his Paramount contract; and, for example, I can even relate to Bjork’s desire to wear an entire feathered swan to the 2001 Oscar ceremony . . . I still question relentlessly why the American public wants what it wants in terms of celebrity culture. Similar to anything else that is captured on camera, entertainment news is (obviously) not real. As soon as a correspondent, celebrities, or any montage of footage is filmed with expensive camera equipment and distributed via mass satellite feed to the American public, a representation of “real” Hollywood is catered buffet-style for tabloid-obsessed America. Defensor analyzes Baudrillard’s oft-studied and taught “Procession of Simulacra” in regards to this idea: All reality, he claims, can be concerted into signs which are empty. If you have worked in a public relations office, an advertisement company, or a political campaign stable, you can have some idea of what he is saying. The image is all. That’s how the sale is made. That’s how the votes come in. And the alienation of signs from reality becomes even greater as the draft text goes to the editors who do not worry about the reality, but are concerned about “what will the audience say?”4

Regardless of your abhorrence or appreciation for popular culture, it is obvious by reading any online service’s “Most Viewed News Stories” (i.e., Yahoo! News, Google News, MSN) that celebrity-oriented headlines top America’s information priorities, even that over politics and election coverage, Iraq war updates, or health and safety issues. Even today’s hard news programs and footage are criticized for placing importance on providing entertainment rather than information. Much of the in-depth hard news coverage is now filmed and produced like Jerry Bruckheimer Hollywood blockbusters, no matter if it’s about international wartime affairs or a local children’s spelling bee. This suggests that, today, perhaps all news is entertainment news. Lerner states of the millennial generation’s

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relationship with hard news: “21% of Americans younger than 30 consider comedy shows—comedy shows!—a primary source of political news.”5 This borderline sensationalistic style of news reporting in the twenty-first century has now placed entertainment values over the provision of information; network competition has become so fierce that it seems every aspect of news reporting has become for capitalistic gain. For the American public, the desire for subjective entertainment has now superseded that of the desire for objective information. Lerner also comments about this parasitic relationship between visual consumer expectation and network financial gain: We live in an age when cameras are ubiquitous and access to what had once been off-limits is virtually universal—operating rooms, police cars, the boudoirs of the rich and famous. Increasingly, events unfold in real time, and thanks to reality TV and the proliferation of media, the public sphere is larger than it ever has been before. At the same time, television docudramas and movies that are “based on a true story” encourage us to believe that we can view the world from on high, like omniscient narrators. But nothing’s really changed. The idea that we “know” the “real” people behind the celebrity remains an illusion no matter how often our overexposed movie stars visit Jay Leno’s couch or how many embarrassing admissions they make on “Larry King Live.”6

Every local pre-primetime five o’clock news often covers and presents epiclike news stories with Oscar-worthy cinematography about anything and everything, borderlining sensationalism and yellow journalism—but this method of combo-entertainment-information presentation has become expected by American audiences. Thus, since most news in the twenty-first century is often overdramatized, it would make sense that Hollywood-oriented program content is the most popular. Lawson proposes that today’s news production style and content is executed more like fictional works than concise, nonbiased, ethical reporting: The obvious temptation is to blame journalism, and it’s certainly true that these blockbuster news stories are partly shaped by the fact that today’s journalists (in print and television) have much more space and much less fear of legal censure than did their predecessors. But I think the news increasingly feels like a novel or screenplay because so many people now live like figures in fiction, defining themselves as “characters” within what artistic criticism calls a “structured narrative.”7

There must be some truth to Lawson’s fiction styled interpretation of today’s news production; otherwise, television “stars” (who are actually supposed to be nonbiased or nonpartisan reporters) such as Katie Couric or Anderson Cooper wouldn’t have such a prolific fan base. Couric, formerly

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with well-adored Matt Lauer on The Today Show —another form of “entertainment news”—became America’s Sweetheart, whose life was trailed by her audience of faithful followers who wanted to know every soap operatic detail about her husband, children, network reputation, and so forth. Likewise, if Cooper didn’t have his gray-haired, Indiana Jones-like stud character personae, bravely trudging through jungles and Middle Eastern battle fields, his reputation of a journalistic yet heroic, modern-day Gulliver or Gilgamesh wouldn’t have been cemented by his adoring viewership.

PARASITES AND THE LOSS OF MEANING The majority of the audience for a television news program such as Stars Today immediately interprets information, camera footage, and headlines as authentic, forgetting that all meaning of celebrity culture has been manipulated by us as television producers, writers, and directors, thus putting our own often ethically questionable editorial spin on whatever allegedly newsworthy information we are reporting to you. As far as meaning is concerned for audience consumption, shows such as Stars Today disguise soap-operatic tabloid information, complete with characters who have newsy lingo and language, prompting viewers to consider that they need to know the celebritysupported and endorsed facts we provide. The meaning of this editorialized information is plastically altered for its famished, avaricious audience of persons who long to be closer to real celebrities, the majority of whom are never presented in a real or unbiased manner. When any celebrity is filmed, photographed, or scribed about, it is impossible for these representations to be real, yet their faithful fan followings often fail to realize this. Toffolletti analyzes this concept as per Baudrillard’s take on television itself: For Baudrillard all the media of information and communication neutralize meaning, and involve the audience in a flat, one-dimensional media experience, which he defines in terms of a passive absorption of images or resistance to meaning, rather than an active processing or production of meaning.8

This suggests that, according to Baudrillard, the audience is to blame for their hungry consumption of these editorial images and their inability to decipher the real from the unreal, the meaningful and the meaningless, the true and the false. In opposition, it is easy to simply blame “the media”—particularly entertainment news shows such as Stars Today and gossip magazines such as Us Weekly —for spoon-feeding the American public this coveted footage and the reporting of their beloved celebrities. And admittedly, we, as entertainment informants, are at fault, at least partially.

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We’re to blame, perhaps even more so than our audiences’ willingness to believe our footage, all of which is, of course, advertised as honest reporting with journalistic integrity. Thus, if the relationship between entertainment television production and its audience is equally at fault for satisfying each other’s desires (the audience’s entertainment and informative wants; television’s monetary needs), wouldn’t celebrities, who are the coveted program content of these shows, be at fault, as well? Without newsworthy celebrities (i.e., popular or controversial or trendy), shows such as Stars Today would have no relationship with their audience to begin with. In regards to where blame should be placed, Defensor states, without withholding his opinion, “The tragedy is that these do not only happen in advertising or PR agencies, but also in the editorial and news offices of some print and electronic media who have lost their identities in this image and money jungle.”9 This parasitic tri-prong relationship between American consumerist culture feeding off of whatever celebrities give them, in terms of products (both handheld and artistic), body image, moral and ethical ideal systems, and all areas of trends (domesticity, fashion, travel and leisure, etc.), has partially alluded my psychology, because, since I have been of American voting age, all of celebrity culture, for me, has been work. EVERYONE LIKES TO BLAME “THE MEDIA” Of all the contentious social issue topics my writing seminar classes dissect, whenever we get to the week on Body Image, every last student explains that his/her own psychologically constructed body image is compounded from unrealistic media simulacra. When teaching theory and critical thinking to undergrads, popular culture examples always seem to be the most digestible. Whenever I ask my students how they choose whom to compare themselves in terms of media-dictated body image, the room falls silent. They palpably do not understand where their often unattainable self-perceptions and aspirations of media-dictated body image derive from. Coulter recalls Baudrillard’s object vs. subject separation of this rather quixotic self-perception: For Baudrillard, consumer society is object-focused and, as such, always disappoints. The object, however, does play a dramatic role. It designates the real world and its absence. Objects are uncanny: “There is always something in the object which the subject cannot comprehend,” says Baudrillard. The more objects we accumulate, the more obstacles we place between ourselves and relating. The object is a source of extreme paradox for consumer culture. By focusing on the object, rather than the subject, Baudrillard posits the object as a fully fledged actor in consumer society.10

For television, and perhaps all of visual media, the collection or accumulation of rapid-fire images is substituted for the accumulation of materialistic

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or physical objects. Visual, quite often editorially altered images, are far easier two-dimensional “objects” for viewers to consume than materialistic goods, so the media is able to force syndicated point-of-sale transactions via this parade of images at a much faster and more affective rate and at a larger volume. While my students (and most Americans who have embraced or accepted any overruling facets of popular culture) all blame “the media,” as is now overly common to do in the academic classroom, no one wants to admit that his or her own perception of him/herself has consciously or unconsciously evolved from images of various celebrities and models, all of which are represented in the form of unattainable but popular entertainment conglomerate-decided effigies. The media always seems to be at fault, but many of my students do not entirely know who and why they are blaming. Seaton states of this innate insecurity and general unknowingness of today’s university crowd: But there is also another, less obvious, source of attraction to the notion that “there is nothing outside the text.” Today Americans—and, perhaps, young people in particular—are concerned about identity and seem often to be searching for some sort of definite and secure identity . . . Advertising tells us that everything we eat or wear, any game we play and, naturally, anything we buy, is a sign that tells other people something about ourselves.11

The media sells ideas and lifestyles more than it does physical products, most of which are executed by celebrity culture, both directly and indirectly. These images and lifestyles are implemented into mainstream popular culture directly by conglomerate-dictated trends, while viewers’ psyches are affected indirectly by the posh lifestyle trends they view, and often attempt to emulate, compliments of filmed celebrity culture. The media is both a delight and a demon to the Millennial generation, but they’re understandably and forgivably unaware of who precisely is delighting and demonizing them. In response to my question about how they derive their own personal body image construction, my students unfalteringly ask, “What do you mean?” To which my immediate, easy answer is this: One evening during the Mission: Impossible 3 premiere, I stood on the red carpet outside of the Odeon Cinema in the middle of London’s Leicester Square. My cameramen and sound guys towered over my 5'7, 140-pound frame as I faced off with Tom Cruise, who, like a plastic Ken doll alien, had just landed from outer space to answer questions about his wardrobe tonight and his stunts in the film. I erected my shoulders as high as they’d go, realizing that I was speaking to a world-famous human being who, most likely, no longer actually knows the difference between the real and the unreal. And then, mortifyingly, I found myself neurotically having the following internal monologue: Tom Cruise is my height! He’s a shorty! Although he’s a bit bulkier and muscley, our body frames are essentially the same type. I bet we even have the same

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waist size! We’ve both got big glittery smiles, sparkly eyes and full heads of hair. Tom Cruise is an international sex symbol! Ergo —if Tom Cruise is wanted, desired and lusted after by the majority of the planet, then—WOW!—I MUST be okay, too!

At which point, while staring Tom Cruise in the face, I wanted to instead slap myself across the face, having realized that even though my entire professional life had consisted of serving the American public celebrity fantasy information—plasticized compilations of forged simulacra in the form of 20-second television promos—I too had fallen prey to my own company’s salesmanship of entertainment-driven self-degradation and questioning of self-worth. My microphone went limp at my side. After confessing this neurotic self-comparison to my students, they understand my question, and their responses are typically delivered in comprehensibly narcissistic categories, narcissistic in the realm of mirrored self-acceptance. The thin, peroxided girls want to emulate Charlize Theron and Cameron Diaz; the black and Latina females find acceptance from footage of J-Lo and Rihanna; the naturally curvier young women say they appreciate publicly proud celebs such as Kate Winslet and Scarlett Johansson. Most of my male students compare themselves to David Beckham or other popular athletes; hip-hop stars, the skin color of whom seems blessedly irrelevant to these Millennial students nowadays; indie and/or Emo bands such as Panic at the Disco! or The Killers; or, for the beer-guzzling frat dudes, any of today’s Frat Pack film stars, including Vince Vaughn and Luke and Owen Wilson. There is an image archetype for everyone as we near the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century. For example, most recently, the fall television season of 2007 introduced a geek club of characters for nerd viewers to relate to and women to find cute, such as the protagonists of Reaper, The IT Crowd, and Chuck, among others. These trends are conglomerately decided for competitive purposes, not simply by chance, which is unfortunately what the majority of the boob tube–consuming public assumes. CONFORMING TO YOUR OWN PERSONAL HOLLYWOOD ARCHETYPE Nowadays, this omnipresent, unidentifiable but blamed force called “the media” presents trends for its public to consume, thereby identifying and cementing its public’s self-worth. Ten, maybe even five years ago, celebrities such as potato-shaped Jack Black; schlubby, shaggy-headed Will Ferrell; or blatantly average Taylor Hicks would absolutely not be featured in prominent publications’ lists such as “America’s Best Bachelors” alongside chiseled Brad Pitt, Hollywood classical George Clooney, or athlete-stud

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Matthew McConaughey. Note: the aforedescribed qualities of these wellknown celebrities are not my personal, editorial physical descriptions, per se, but rather, the socially connotated reputations of their appearances. The public’s consumption of these images of overweight, out-of-shape celebrities who are now apparently considered “sexy” in the twenty-first century is perhaps acceptable nowadays because much of America is overweight and out-of-shape. The majority of this country does not synonymously resemble Brad Pitt and Charlize Theron, so the American public is much more comfortable being told that celebrities such as Jack Black and Mo’Nique are desirable. This means that if a man resembles Jack Black, then he is sexy and desirable enough to be a celebrity . . . ! I am not attempting to define beauty here but, rather, suggesting that television viewers narcissistically (but understandably) want confirmation or self-acceptance that they too are desirable and celebrity-worthy, like these superstar Hollywood images they watch daily. The parasitic relationship of these images—what “the media” force-feeds us and what we will consciously or unconsciously accept—is now more about deflated self-worth than about the power or presence of being a celebrity. In regards to this force-feeding of ideas and images, Baudrillard cites four steps in the progression of an image into simulacra: 1. 2. 3. 4.

The image reflects a basic reality. It masks and perverts a basic reality. It masks the absence of a basic reality. It bears no relation to any reality whatsoever.

Furthermore, Baudrillard notes the existence of simulation as something of a step toward simulacra. Simulation is an imitation of the real that often becomes confused for it. He also posits that we exist in a state of hyperreality, where little distinguishes the real and the imaginary. This is perhaps most readily apparent in television.12 This concept is impossible, as simulation, or an imitation of the real, can never actually happen in “the media” because there is no reality. The fantasy life, personalities, and images constructed around celebrity culture in entertainment television is this very state of Baudrillard’s hyperreality. Thus, no accurate simulation, not even an imitation of the real, can be successfully molded by television. In the twenty-first century, many (but not all) famous people who are considered “celebrities” are more Everymen or Everywomen—or Everylosers or Everynerds or Everygirl-next-doors—rather than the glittery, glamorous 1950s-esque celebrity personas. Much of the American public nowadays wants their celebrities to reflect an imitation of “reality” that is identifiable and relatable to them. In many cases, viewers prefer mirror image–type

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celebrity archetypes and images of themselves, so that, in our age of obsessive reality television fandom, the viewers themselves feel like celebrities, thanks to the casting of celebrity types.

WHITE POWER The majority of the stories we ran were increasingly considered edgy for our mega media conglomerate parent company, predominantly because before the emergence of these “big and beautiful” women, many of them non-Caucasian ladies, the majority of its channels and subsidiaries featured absolutely no facet of nonwhite culture. It wasn’t until just a couple of years ago when our executive producers decided it may be beneficial to our viewership if we had “persons of color” as correspondents, in order to hook in new millennial audiences. In years previous, even when doing man-on-the-street interviews (i.e., when a segment producer socially/casually assaults passersby with a microphone and questions, as his camera crew films each assault), we were blatantly informed to not ask “ugly,” overweight, or “alternative-looking” people, and especially, persons of color. The audience of Stars Today, along with most other mainstream American entertainment news programs, is not in New York or Los Angeles. We cater to the Neilson rating demographics of middle-aged, middle-class, Middle American–suburban, mostly female, mostly archetypal “housewife” viewers, the vast majority of whom are Caucasian. Seaton humorously paraphrases Sontag’s take on the dominance of “white culture”: The late Susan Sontag was once willing, like many other advanced thinkers, to think of cancer as a text revealing that one was guilt-ridden, uptight, repressed—in a word, bourgeois. It was with this notion in mind that she once declared that “the white race is the cancer of human history.”13

With specialty cable channels including BET, LOGO, Oxygen, and Spike now catering to very microscopic audiences, our twenty-first century production strategy has had to adopt a more multicultural marketing strategy and representation. Although this seems like a logical and welcome change in the television industry, many top executives believe that steering away from the aforementioned demographic is a ghettoization, or even a dumbingdown, of our program content. In a sense, well-watched and -rated entertainment news television programs serve as the mediators between celebrities and their worshipping audiences. We’re the dysfunctional middle child of Hollywood, stuck in the center, trying to make everyone happy. And if we can profit from both celebrities and their audiences, all the better.

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DEATH OF THE TELEVISED TEXT/ IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU Roland Barthes’s 1977 “The Death of the Author” critical commentary of the literary and publishing communities is, strangely, as applicable for Hollywood and the television community. Although the high-brow, elitist, and respected literary community is, by reputation, in opposition with the lowbrow, commercialist, and amoral television world, the audiences of these two sparring communities are often one-in-the-same and share a great deal of common characteristics. Because both the literary elite and Hollywood mass culture must cater to their audiences with very similar methods of pleasured satisfaction, Barthes’s proclamation that the audience has been given importance over the text itself seems wholly appropriate for entertainment news. Now that technology and media rule popular culture over the printed word, even entertainment news programs such as Stars Today are considered texts, suggesting that the sole purpose of such programs is to please their viewers but to also not simultaneously anger their celebrity clients. It’s tough making everyone happy. In “The Death of the Author,” Barthes wrote: Once the Author is removed, the claim to decipher a text becomes quite futile. To give a text an Author is to impose a limit on that text, to furnish it with a final signified, to close the writing. Such a conception suits criticism very well, the latter then allotting itself the important task of discovering the Author (or its hypostases: society, history, psyche, liberty) beneath the work: when the Author has been found, the text is “explained”—victory to the critic. Hence there is no surprise in the fact that, historically, the reign of the Author has also been that of Critic . . . In the multiplicity of writing, everything is to be disentangled, nothing deciphered.14

When audiences watch and interpret entertainment news shows, everyone is a critic. The very program content of a 30-minute entertainment news episode is a collection of often overdramatically represented promotional segments in which very little happens. This segment collection of celebrity gossip and soft news/feature stories is produced strictly to entice viewers to stay on the same channel for 30 minutes preprimetime so that said entertainment news show may secure these viewers for ratings. Entertainment news television does not capitalize on its viewership by providing its target viewer with a fantasy. Rather, we create fantasy—or hyperreality, as Baudrillard calls the “realistic” fantastical—presented to you, our faithful viewer, as the projected reality we’re convinced that you have special ordered. With market research, competitive Neilson ratings proof, and mega-media conglomerate-decided trends, we’re actually manipulating each of our television-viewing audience members as a marionette, simultaneously telling you what you want to watch yet hypocritically convincing

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you that we’re catering to your entertainment consumption needs and requests. Coinciding with Barthes’s “The Death of the Author,” this similar “Death of the Viewer” concept for American television audiences prompts viewers to not only embrace the clichéd idea of “don’t believe everything you see on television” but, more so, to realize that, in the twenty-first century, it is viewers who should embrace the power of free and original thought rather than accepting everything that we television producers passiveaggressively force-feed them. Without much of American television viewership making and pioneering this realization, the validity and reliability of the influence of “The Media” will continue to morph into a distrusted, inauthentic, hyperreality rather than a necessary, trusted source of information and entertainment. NOTES 1. Steven Poole, “Obituary: Jean Baudrillard: French philosopher and sociologist who explored the changing nature of reality in the media age,” The Guardian (Guardian Obituary Pages), March 8, 2007, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan.edu:2062/ pqdweb?did1229149761&Fmt3&clientId10762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 2. Kim Toffoletti, “Media Implosion: Posthuman Bodies at the Interface: [1],” Hecate, 29, 2003, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb?did 592467571&Fmt3&clientId10762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 3. New Media Age, “Hollywood writers’ strike is a symptom of a wider change,” December 13, 2007, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb? did1399578861&Fmt3&clientId10762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 4. Benjamin G. Defensor, “One Man’s Meat,” BusinessWorld, January 15, 2007, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb?did1194655301&Fmt3& clientId10762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 5. Preston Lerner, “ ‘Based on a True Story’; An absolutely 100 percent factual account of Hollywood’s gradual devaluation of reality—depending, of course, on how you define the words ‘true,’ ‘factual,’ and ‘reality’,” Los Angeles Times (Los Angeles Times Magazine), September 11, 2005, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan. edu:2062/pqdweb?did894472081&Fmt3&clientId10762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 6. Lerner, “Based on a True Story.” 7. Mark Lawson, “Comment and Debate: Front-page thrillers: The Hyper-reality of fiction techniques has transformed the way we consume the news,” The Guardian ( The Guardian Comment and Debate Pages), December 7, 2007, ProQuest, http://www. library.manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb?did1394631951&Fmt3&clientId10762&RQT3 09&VNamePQD. 8. Toffoletti, “Media Implosion.” 9. Defensor, “One Man’s Meat.” 10. B. Gerry Coulter, “Passwords,” The Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology (Book reviews/Comptes rendus), February 2005, 42, ProQuest, http://www.library. manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb?did815510401&Fmt3&clientId10762&RQT309&VN amePQD.

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11. James Seaton, “The Word is Out,” The Weekly Standard, February 25, 2008, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb?did1435702601&Fmt3&cli entId10762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 12. Christopher Wright, “Welcome to the Jungle of the Real: Simulation, Commoditization, and Survival,” The Journal of American Culture, June 2006, 29, ProQuest, http://www.library.manhattan.edu:2062/pqdweb?did1047821271&Fmt4&clientId1 0762&RQT309&VNamePQD. 13. Seaton, “The Word is Out.” 14. Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” Image, Music, Text, 1977, North Carolina State University, http://social.chass.ncsu.edu/wyrick/debclass/whatis.htm.

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About the Editor and Contributors

EDITOR

Robert C. Sickels is Associate Professor of American Film and Popular Culture at Whitman College. He has made several short films that have played nationally at festivals around the country. In addition to publishing numerous journal articles and book chapters, he is also the author of American Popular Culture Through History: The 1940s (Greenwood, 2004) and American Film in the Digital Age (Praeger, 2009).

CONTRIBUTORS

Harry Brown is an Assistant Professor of English at DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana. His essays on American literature and digital games have appeared in the Journal of American and Comparative Cultures, Works and Days, Paradoxa, as well as several collections. His book, Injun Joe’s Ghost, was published in 2004. Mary P. Erickson is a Ph.D. candidate in the School of Journalism and Communication at the University of Oregon. She worked as a publicist for a Seattle film arts organization and with several independent filmmakers. She coedited a book with Janet Wasko titled Cross-Border Cultural Production: Economic Runaway or Globalization?

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About the Editor and Contributors

Jeffrey Hirschberg is an Assistant Professor and Coordinator of the Television Arts program at Buffalo State College. He is a member of the WGA, a professional screenwriter, and is currently writing a book on Heroes & Villains in American Film for Michael Wiese Productions (ThreeAct.com). Sue J. Kim is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, where she teaches cultural studies and literary theory. Her essays have appeared in Modern Fiction Studies, the Journal of Asian American Studies, and Narrative. Ramon Lobato is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Melbourne and a sessional lecturer at RMIT University. His current research examines the relationship between film distribution and globalization, and his work has appeared in Camera Obscura, Media International Australia, Limina, Continuum, and Studies in Australasian Cinema. Kimberly A. Owczarski is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Texas at Austin in the Department of Radio -Television-Film. She is currently finishing her dissertation on the relationship between the Batman film franchise and Time Warner. She has published articles in Cine Action, Journal of Film and Video, and Spectator. Anne H. Petersen is a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Radio-TelevisionFilm at the University of Texas–Austin, where she focuses on the intersections of celebrity culture and New Media. She currently serves as coeditor of the online journal FlowTV, available at www.flowtv.org. Zachary Snider, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor at New York University and other Manhattan universities, specializing in courses in creative writing, journalism, and postmodernism. He also works professionally as a television and print journalist and writes fiction novels and nonfiction publications. R. Colin Tait teaches Asian Cinema and Contemporary Film Authorship at The University of British Columbia. His current research interests include contemporary Hollywood, politics, film genre, and Fredric Jameson. He is currently coauthoring a monograph on The Cinema of Steven Soderbergh with Andrew deWaard. Yannis Tzioumakis is a Lecturer in Media and Communication Studies at the University of Liverpool. He has published widely on American cinema. His book American Independent Cinema: An Introduction was published in 2006. He is currently coediting “American Indies,” a book series dedicated to independent cinema, and contributing to a volume on Mamet’s The Spanish Prisoner.

Index

About Last Night . . . , 163 Access, piracy as, 29 –32 Actors, 139 – 40 Adee, Peter, 8, 9 –10 Adult industry, and piracy, 23– 24 Aint It Cool News, 67 Aladdin, 83–84 All the Right Moves, 211 AMC Theatres, 143, 181 America On Line (AOL), 70, 101 Amoco, 66 Amusement rides, 61, 77–78, 80, 82, 89 –90. See also Theme parks AOL (America On Line), 70, 101 Arkin, Alan, 139 Armageddon, 81–82 Artisan, 174 Asia, piracy in, 16, 22– 23, 29, 30 –31 Asphalt Jungle, The, 18 Assimilation, in movies, 6 Atari, 111–12, 113, 116, 123 Audience, 10 –11, 220 – 21 Authorship, piracy as, 25– 28 Aviator, The, 153–54 Awards, 141– 42

Bad Company, 82 Bagdikian, Ben H., 57, 72 Baker, D., 104 Baker, Sala, 96, 98–99, 100 –101, 104 Balazs, Bela, 208, 210 Barthes, Roland, 26, 27, 208–9, 229, 230 Bass, Lance, 201 “Batdance” (Prince), 58–59 Batman: The Animated Series, 61, 63 Batman: The Escape, 61 Batman, The (television program), 68 Batman and Robin, 65– 67 Batman Begins, 55, 68– 69, 72 Batman Beyond, 68 Batman Forever, 64 – 66 Batman franchise, 55–72; amazing functions of, 56– 64; high-tech synergy and, 66–71; Six Flags parks and, 60 – 61; synergy and media integration, 55–56; “toyetic” Batman, 64 – 66. See also Time Warner Batman Gotham Knights, 67– 68 Batman (movie), 57–59, 63, 71 Batman Returns: The Official Movie Book (Burton), 62 Batman Returns (movie), 61, 62– 64, 66

236 Batman the Ride, 61 Batmobile, 68– 69 Baudrillard, Jean, 218–19, 220, 221, 223, 224, 227 Baumgarten, Marjorie, 190 –91 Bay, Michael, 81, 82, 125 Beckham, Victoria, 209 –10 Berri, Claude, 162 Bettig, Ronald, 28, 29 Birds of Prey, 68 Black, Jack, 226, 227 Blackman, W. Haden, 122 Blair Witch Project, The: box office earnings and distribution, 134; film festival release and distribution, 140, 174; as Web phenomenon, 37, 38, 47, 50 Blogs, gossip. See Gossip blogs Bloom, Orlando, 82, 84, 87 Boorstin, Daniel, 202, 203 Borrelli, Christopher, 190 Boyens, Philippa, 96 Boynton Beach Club, 49 Bradford, Kyle, 201– 2 Bradshaw, Peter, 105 Braff, Zach, 138 Brave New Theaters, 145 Brokeback Mountain, 129 –30, 131, 174 Brooke-Rose, Christine, 98 Bruce Almighty, 2–3 Bruckheimer, Jerry, 81–82, 83, 88 Bubble, 179, 180 –81, 182, 183–84, 189 –91, 192 Buena Vista Pictures, 43– 44. See also Walt Disney Pictures Buice, Susan, 51, 144 – 46, 147, 148 Burr, Ty, 190 Burton, Tim, 58, 61, 62– 63 Cable and Satellite Broadcasting Association of Asia, 16 Cable market, 157 Camp, 203– 4, 205 Capote, 129 –30 Carell, Steve, 2–3 Cassavetes, John, 156, 166 Cassidy Kids, The, 48 CBS Corporation, 6–7 Celebrities, homosexuality of, 200 – 202

Index Celebrity gossip, 198–99. See also Gossip blogs Celebrity journalism, 217–30; audience expectations, 220 – 21; blaming the media, 224 – 26; career formation in, 217–19; conforming to personal Hollywood archetype, 226– 28; death of televised text, 229 –30; diversity and, 228; entertainment versus information, 221– 23; parasites and the loss of meaning, 223– 24; television producer and his Other, 219 China, piracy in, 22– 23 Chronicles of Narnia, The, 46 Chronicles of Riddick, The, 125 Church, Thomas Haden, 139 Cinemark USA, 181 Classics divisions, 158–59 Click, 144 Clockers, 186 Clooney, George, 137, 138–39, 183, 184, 185 Cockroach capitalism, 23 Collette, Toni, 139 Consent Decree (1940), 4 –5 Convergence Culture (Jenkins), 116–17 Cooper, Anderson, 222, 223 Copyright, 17– 20, 22, 24, 26– 27, 61. See also Piracy Copyrighting Culture (Bettig), 28 Copyrights and Copywrongs (Vaidhyanathan), 24 Copyright Term Extension Act (1998), 18 Costs: marketing, 8; piracy, 186; prints and advertising, 182, 188; production, 1, 182 Country Bear Jamboree ride, 80 –81 Country Bears, The (movie), 80 –81, 82 Couric, Katie, 222– 23 Crash, 104 –5, 129 –30 Creative Commons, 25 Cruise, Tom, 195–96, 199 – 200, 201– 2, 211–12, 221, 225– 26 Crumley, Arin, 51, 144 – 46, 147, 148 Cuban, Mark, 179 –80, 181–83, 186, 188, 189, 191–92 Cultural Control and Globalization in Asia (Pang), 29 Cyan Pictures, 49

Index Daly, Steven, 186 Dances with Wolves, 162, 173 Dargis, Manohla, 99, 100, 190 Dark Forces, 120 Dark Knight, The, 70, 71 Da Vinci Code, The, 188 Day-and-date release strategy, 179, 180, 189 Dayton, Jonathan, 138 Deadroom, 48, 49 “Death of the Author, The” (Barthes), 229, 230 Dee, Jonathan, 113–14 Defensor, Benjamin G., 221, 224 Dell, 69 De Palma, Brian, 182, 186, 191 Depp, Johnny, 82, 83, 84, 85–87, 90 Digitization, 115–16, 188 Directors, 138–39 Disney, Walt, 77–78. See also Walt Disney Company; Walt Disney Pictures “Disney Vault,” 187 Diversity, and celebrity journalism, 228 Downs, Hugh, 140 Dunst, Kirsten, 206 DVD market, 187, 188–89, 190 DVD technology, and piracy, 23 Dyack, Denis, 114 Dyer, Richard, 197–98, 202, 204 –5, 207, 208, 210 EA (Electronic Arts), 117, 118, 120 – 21 Ebert, Roger, 93, 105, 111, 190 E! cable channel, 198–99 Economics, and star production, 198– 202 Eisner, Michael, 85, 89 Electronic Arts (EA), 117, 118, 120 – 21 Elliott, Ted, 83–84, 88 Empire of Mind, The (Strangelove), 24 – 25 Empire of Their Own, An (Gabler), 4 England, copyright history, 17, 19 Enron, 191 Entertainment news television. See Celebrity journalism Entertainment versus information, 221– 23 Entertainment Weekly, 55 Enter the Matrix, 111 E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (movie), 111

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E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (videogame), 111–12, 113, 116, 123 Evan Almighty, 2–3 Everything or Nothing, 121 “Face of Garbo, The” (Barthes), 208–9 Fair use provisions, 18 Family Business, 3– 4 Faris, Valerie, 138 Far North, 164 Fashion, and star production, 204 –7 Fast and Furious, The, 10 Film festivals, 140 – 41, 142– 43 Filmhaus Productions, 154, 159, 165– 66 Filmways, 160 Fine Line, 132 Finn, Adam, 38, 40, 42, 44, 47 Fithian, John, 191 Florsheim, Bobby, 2 Focus Features, 130, 133, 141, 174. See also Universal Pictures Foucault, Michel, 26, 30 Four Eyed Monsters, 51, 144 – 46, 147, 148 Four Quadrants, 7–8 Fox Searchlight, 39, 136, 140, 141, 159. See also Twentieth Century Fox Fox (television network), 18, 61, 63 Franchise films, 56, 89. See also Batman franchise; Star Wars franchise Free Culture (Lessig), 25 Free enterprise, piracy as, 22– 24 Free speech, piracy as, 24 – 25 Frito Lay, 66 Full Frontal, 183, 184, 185 Fun With Dick and Jane, 43, 44 Gabler, Neal, 4, 5, 6 Galloway, Alexander, 123, 124 Garbo, Greta, 208–9 Garden State: awards, 142; director, 138; marketing, 136–37; release strategy, 140, 141; storyline, 137 Gay Ideas (Mohr), 200 – 201 Giamatti, Paul, 140 Glengarry Glen Ross, 162, 163 Global Hollywood (Miller et al.), 28– 29 Godfather: The Game, 125 Golumbia, David, 100 Gone with the Wind, 135

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Index

Good Night, and Good Luck: actors, 140; awards, 142; director, 138–39; executive producer, 185; financing and production, 129–30; marketing, 136–37; release strategy, 140; storyline, 137 Gossip blogs: Cruise, Tom, and, 195–96; fashion and, 206–7; format, 197–98, 205; function, 197; immediacy of, 204; manipulation and, 209; star production and, 196–97. See also Hilton, Perez Grant, Cary, 211–12 Great Santini, The, 160 Greenlighting process, 1–12; audience, built-in, 10 –11; history, early studio, 4 – 6; horizontal integration, 6–7; marketing, 7–10; production costs, average, 1; screenplays, 1–3 Guardian, The, 43– 44 Guber, Peter, 57–58, 59 Haggis, Paul, 104 Harold Buttleman, Daredevil Stuntman, 146 Hausman, Michael, 154, 165– 66, 167 HBO, 161, 165. See also Time Warner HDNet Films, 179 –80, 181–82, 186, 191–92 Head Trauma, 146 Hedge fund partners, 3 Hell’s Angels, 135 Hepburn, Audrey, 208–9 High-definition technology, 179, 181–84, 188, 189, 190 Hilton, Paris, 202, 203, 204, 209 Hilton, Perez: Beckham, Victoria, and, 209 –10; camp and, 203– 4, 205; Cruise, Tom, and, 199 – 200, 202; fashion and, 205– 6; function of blog, 197, 211, 212, 213; Hilton, Paris, and, 202, 203, 204; influence, 196; magic/talent and, 207–8; nature of the medium and, 209 –10; outing of celebrities, 200 – 201, 202; queer identity of, 196, 200, 202; as star manipulator, 202– 4; on Talk Soup, 199 Holland, Del, 69 Hollywood archetypes, 226– 28 Hollywood Pictures, 81. See also Walt Disney Company Holmes, Katie, 195, 199, 202 Holson, Laura M., 188

Homosexuality, of celebrities, 200 – 202 Horizontal integration, 6–7, 55–56 House of Games, 154 –55, 162, 163– 64, 165– 67, 168, 170 –73 House on Carroll Street, The, 162 Howe, John, 98, 101 Hughes, Howard, 135 Huston, John, 18 Iger, Robert, 89 ILM (Industrial Light and Magic), 112–13, 115, 116, 117, 122 “Independence” as marketing label, 129 – 48; actors, 139 – 40; awards, 141– 42; challenges, 142– 44; directors, 138–39; independent trailblazers, 144 – 47; marketing strategies, 135–36; overview, 129 –31; ownership issues, 131–35; release strategy, 140 – 41; storylines, 137. See also Marketing Independent films: history, 155–59; as label, 153–54, 155–56; major studio films versus, 38–39. See also “Independence” as marketing label; specific films Independent Spirit Awards, 141– 42 India, piracy in, 30 –31 Industrial Light and Magic (ILM), 112–13, 115, 116, 117, 122 Information versus entertainment, 221– 23 Intellectual property. See Copyright; Piracy Interactivity, controlled, 44 – 47 Internet. See Web sites, movie Internet downloads, 179, 180, 189 In the Company of Men, 164 – 65 “It’s Being So Camp As Gets Us Going” (Dyer), 205 iTunes, 189, 192 Jackson, Michael, 220 Jackson, Peter: King Kong, 50 –51, 114; Lord of the Rings trilogy, 96, 97, 98, 101, 102, 121 Jarvie, I. C., 204 Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, 167, 174 Jean de Florette, 162 Jedi Academy, 120 Jedi Knight, 120

Index Jedi Outcast, 120 Jenkins, Henry, 116–17, 118, 120, 126 Jolie, Angelina, 207–8, 209 Jones, Tommy Lee, 143 Kafka, 184 Katz, Jonathan, 163 Kaufman, Anthony, 147 Kellogg’s, 66 Kelsey, Jane, 103 King Kong, 42– 43, 44, 50 –51, 114, 134, 141 Kinnear, Greg, 139 Kirsner, Scott, 190 Knowles, Harry, 67 K-Street, 183, 185 La Bute, Neil, 164 – 65 Ladyman, George, 61 Landmark theater chain, 180, 186, 188, 191 Lane, Anthony, 126 Last Romantic, The, 49 Lawson, Mark, 222 LDAC (Letterman Digital Arts Center), 112–13, 115, 117, 122 Lee, Alan, 101 Lee, Ang, 174 Leggat, Graham, 122, 123, 126 Lemire, Christie, 138 Lerner, Avi, 130 Lerner, Preston, 221– 22 Lessig, Lawrence, 24, 25, 28, 30 Letterman Digital Arts Center (LDAC), 112–13, 115, 117, 122 Levin, Gerald, 60 – 61, 70 Liang, Lawrence, 30 –31 Licensing Corp. of America, 59. See also Warner Communications, Inc. Liepzig, Adam, 187, 190 Lion King, The, 78–79, 82 Lionsgate, 8, 39, 46– 47 Little Miss Sunshine: actors, 139; awards, 142; directors, 138; marketing, 136–37; release strategy, 141; storyline, 137 Little Romance, A, 160 Loews Cineplex, 181 LOL, 48– 49 Lopez, Jennifer, 206

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Lord of the Rings: merchandise, 50; race in, 93, 95–96, 97–104, 105– 6; videogame adaptations, 120 – 21 Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (movie), 96, 98 Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (videogame), 118 Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (movie), 97, 99, 118–19, 121, 126 Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (videogame), 117, 118 Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (movie), 96, 97, 98, 100 –101 Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (videogame), 118–19, 121 Lucas, George, 112, 113, 115–16, 117, 188 LucasArts, 112–13, 115, 117, 118, 119–22 Lucasfilm: “independence” of, 132; Letterman Digital Arts Center and, 112–13, 115, 117; revenues, 39; Star Wars franchise, 45– 46, 47, 114 Lukk, Tiiu, 135, 138 Lurtz (Lord of the Rings character), 96, 97 Madsen, Virginia, 139 – 40 Magic/talent, and star production, 207–8 Magnolia Pictures, 180, 181 Makoare, Lawrence, 96, 97, 98–99, 104 Mamet, David: aesthetic vision, 168–72; early work, 162, 163; House of Games, 155, 162, 163– 65, 166– 67, 168, 170 –73 Manipulation, and star production, 202– 4 Manon des Sources, 162 Manovich, Lev, 204, 205, 209 Mantegna, Joe, 168, 169 Maori, 96–97, 102– 4 Marketing: costs, 8; greenlighting process and, 7–10; strategies, 135–36; viral, 47–50. See also “Independence” as marketing label Mass entertainment, movies as, 5 Matrix: Reloaded, 111 Matrix, The, 95, 111 Matrix trilogy, 111, 117, 124 McDonald, Paul, 196 McDonald’s, 63, 64 McGregor, Judy, 103 McNamara, Mary, 139

240

Index

McNamara, Melissa, 200 Medavoy, Mike, 162 Media, blaming the, 224 – 26 Merchandising, saturated, 42– 44 Meyer, Barry, 70 MGM, 18 Miami Vice, 144 Micheux, Oscar, 156 Michigan International Speedway, 68– 69 Miller, Toby, 28– 29 Mills, Mike, 143 Miramax Films: as independent film producer, 39, 136, 140, 158–59, 174; investment in multimillion dollar productions, 173; Lord of the Rings trilogy, 101; publicity and advertising, 136; as specialty studio, 132; takeover by Disney, 158. See also Walt Disney Pictures Mission: Impossible III, 196, 199 – 200 Moguls, 4 – 6 Mohr, Richard, 200 – 201 Molyneux, Peter, 123 Morawiec, Peter, 120 Morris, Wesley, 99 Mortensen, Viggo, 100 –101 Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA), 16, 20 – 21, 23, 29, 30 Movie attendance in theaters, 50 MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America), 16, 20 – 21, 23, 29, 30 Mrs. Doubtfire, 134 Multiculturalism, liberal, 94 –95, 99, 104, 106 Multiplier theory, 9 –10 Munich, 129 My Big Fat Greek Wedding, 10, 133 MySpace, 48– 49, 51 NASCAR, 68– 69 New Line Cinema, 50, 101, 102, 132, 173. See also Time Warner New Zealand, 101, 102– 4 Nigerian video-film industry (Nollywood), 32 Nolan, Christopher, 68 Ocean’s 11, 185 Oh in Ohio, The, 49

Omi, Michael, 94 Orion Classics, 162 Orion Home Entertainment, 161– 62 Orion Pictures: distribution deal with Warner Bros., 159 – 61; HBO, partnership with, 161; history, 159 – 62; House of Games, 154 –55, 162, 165; independent film, impact on, 173 Ownership issues, 131–35 Pacific Islanders, 102– 4 Package-unit system of production, 165–67 Paltrow, Gwyneth, 207 Pang, Laikwan, 29 Paramount Classics, 132 Paramount Pictures, 38–39, 132, 196 Paramount Vantage, 132 Passion of the Ark, The (Florsheim and Stolberg), 2 Passion of the Christ, The, 134 Pearl Harbor, 82, 125 Perren, Alisa, 133 Persall, Steve, 137 Peters, Jon, 57–58, 59 Philip, Kativa, 25, 30 Photoshop, 209, 210 Picturehouse, 44. See also HBO; New Line Cinema; Time Warner Piracy, 15–33; as access, 29 –32; as authorship, 25– 28; copyright law history, 17– 20; costs, 186; defined, 16; as free enterprise, 22– 24; as free speech, 24 – 25; future of war on, 32–33; history, 16–17; as resistance, 28– 29; statistics, 16; as theft, 20 – 22 Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, 88 Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, 82–87 Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, 87–88 Pirates of the Caribbean ride, 77–78, 80, 82, 89 –90 Pittman, Robert, 60 Pixar Entertainment, 7–8 Platoon, 161– 62 Pleskow, Eric, 161 Porn, and piracy, 23– 24 “Porous Legalities and Avenues of Participation” (Liang), 30 –31

Index Postman Always Rings Twice, The, 163, 172 Previsualization, 115, 116 Prince, 58–59, 61 Prints and advertising (P&A) costs, 182, 188 Private film financier/hedge fund partners, 3 “Procession of Simulacra” (Baudrillard), 221 Producers, television, 219 Production costs, 1, 182 Public domain, 17, 18 Pula, Chris, 67 Purple Rain, 58 Race: in Crash, 104 –5; film industry and, 93–95; in Lord of the Rings trilogy, 93, 95–96, 97–104, 105–6; in Matrix, The, 95 Racial Formations in the United States (Omi and Winant), 94 Raiders of the Lost Ark, 160 “Recycling Modernity” (Sundaram), 31 Redacted, 186, 191 Redstone, Sumner M., 6–7, 196 Regal Entertainment Group, 181 Relativity Media, 3 Release strategy, 140 – 41 Republic Commando, 120 Resistance, piracy as, 28– 29 Risky Business, 211 Roadside Attractions, 49 Roberts, Julia, 184 Rock, The, 81 Romanelli, Dan, 63, 64, 68 Rossio, Terry, 83–84, 88 Run Lola Run, 124 – 25 Rush Hour 3, 184 Samuel Goldwyn Films, 49 Saving Private Ryan, 186 Saw franchise, 8, 46– 47 Schamus, James, 187 Schizopolis, 184, 185 Schneider, Bob, 66 Schneller, Johanna, 136 Schumacher, Joel, 64, 66, 67 Scooby-Doo, 11 Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed, 11 Scott, A. O., 99, 137

241

Scott, Ridley, 124 Screen adaptations, 79 –80 Screenplays, 1–3 Seaton, James, 225, 228 Selznick, David O., 135 sex, lies, and videotape, 157–58, 184 Sexual Perversity in Chicago, 162, 163 Shadows of Empire, 45 Shepard, Sam, 164 Shrek, 83–84 Shyamalan, M. Night, 179, 180, 189, 190 Sideways: actors, 139 – 40; awards, 142; marketing, 136–37; release strategy, 140, 141; storyline, 137 Silence of the Lambs, The, 162 Silent Tongue, 164 Simpson, Don, 81 Simpson, Jessica, 206, 209 Simpsons, The, 18 Six Flags theme parks, 60 – 61, 69 Sixth Sense, The, 189 Smallville, 55 Smith, Kevin, 166, 167– 68, 174 Soderbergh, Steven: Bubble, 181, 182–84, 190; career, 184 –86; partnership with Cuban and Wagner, 179 –80, 189, 191–92 Solaris, 185 Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act (1998), 18 Sontag, Susan, 203, 228 Sony, 23 Sony Pictures, 38–39, 43, 44, 132 Sony Pictures Classics, 140, 143, 164 – 65 South by Southwest Film Festival, 48, 51 Sparrow, Jack (Pirates of the Caribbean character), 84 –88 Spartacus, 156, 157 Spector, Warren, 118 Spider-Man, 186 Spider-Man 3, 134, 141, 182 Spielberg, Steven, 111 Spout.com, 145, 146 Star production: economics and, 198– 202; fashion and, 204 –7; magic/talent and, 207–8; manipulation and, 202– 4; nature of the medium and, 208–10 Starrett, Peter, 60 Star System, The (McDonald), 196

242

Index

Star Trek, 100 Star Wars: Battlefront, 111 Star Wars: Bounty Hunter, 117, 118, 119, 122 Star Wars: Clone Wars, 119 Star Wars: Jedi Starfighter, 119 Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, 119 – 20, 121, 122 Star Wars: The Force Unleashed, 122 Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, 46, 95, 119 Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, 115, 117, 188 Star Wars Episode III—Revenge of the Sith, 45 Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, 119 – 20 Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, 119 Star Wars franchise: ancillary industries, 188; digitization, 188; prequels, 132; videogames, 111, 117, 118, 119 – 22; Web sites, 45– 46, 47 Stokes, Francis, 146 Stolberg, Josh, 2 Storylines, 137 Strangelove, Michael, 24 – 25 Strathairn, David, 140 Studios, major, 4 – 6, 38–39, 132–33 Sullivan, Steve, 115 Sundance Film Festival, 141 Sundaram, Ravi, 31 Swanberg, Joe, 48, 50, 51 Synergy, 55–56. See also Batman franchise; Time Warner Taco Bell, 66 Talent, and star production, 207–8 Talk Soup, 198– 200 Taylor, Chad, 201– 2 Taylor, Elizabeth, 220 Taylor, Richard, 101, 102 TeAwa, Joanne, 103 Television producers, 219 Theaters, movie attendance in, 50 Theft, piracy as, 20 – 22 Theme parks, 60 – 61, 69, 79. See also Amusement rides Thing About My Folks, The, 44 Thomson, David, 125, 211

Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, The, 143 Thumbsucker, 143 Time Inc., 55, 57 Time Warner: America On Line merger, 70; copyright and, 61; creation by merger, 57; franchises, 71, 72; losses, 59; media ownership, 132; retail stores, 59 – 60; theme parks, 60 – 61, 69; Turner Broadcasting System acquisition, 65. See also Batman franchise; New Line Cinema; Warner Bros. Titanic, 134, 156–57 Toffoletti, Kim, 219, 223 Tolkien, J. R. R., 97, 121. See also Lord of the Rings Touchstone Pictures, 81. See also Walt Disney Company Traffic, 184 –85 Transmedia storytelling, 116– 21 TriStar Pictures, 3– 4 Turner, Will (Pirates of the Caribbean character), 84 –85, 88 Turner Broadcasting System, 65, 132 Turtletaub, Marc, 138 Twentieth Century Fox, 38–39, 132 2929 Pictures. See HDNet Films Tykwer, Tom, 124 – 25 Tzioumakis, Yannis, 133–34 Underneath, The, 185–86 Universal Pictures: Evan Almighty, 2–3; Fast and Furious, The, 10; King Kong, 42– 43, 44, 50 –51; as major studio, 38–39, 132. See also Focus Features Untouchables, The, 163– 64 Uruks, in Lord of the Rings, 96, 98–99 Utu, 96–97 Vaidhyanathan, Siva, 24 Valenti, Jack, 15, 20 – 21, 24 Verbinski, Gore, 82, 83, 84, 89 –90 Verdict, The, 163, 172 Vertical integration, 4 –5 Viacom, 6–7 Videogames, 111– 26; early, 111–12; Hollywood and, 113–16; media convergence and media criticism, 122– 26; production facilities, 112–13,

Index 115, 117, 122; transmedia storytelling and, 116– 21. See also specific videogames Video market, 157 Viral marketing, organic, 47–50. See also Web sites, movie Wachowski, Andy, 114, 117 Wachowski, Larry, 114, 117 Wagner, Todd, 179 –80, 181–83, 186, 189, 191–92 Walt Disney Company: amusement rides, 77–78, 80, 82, 89 –90; Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, 77–90; profits, 59; retail stores, 59 – 60; screen adaptations, 79 –80; takeover of Miramax, 158; theme parks, 79 Walt Disney Pictures, 38–39, 46, 78–79, 82, 132 Warner Bros., 38–39, 132–33, 159 – 60 Warner Bros. Studio Stores, 59 – 60, 64, 66 Warner Bros. Worldwide Consumer Products, 63 Warner Communications, Inc. (WCI), 57, 58–59, 111–12, 113 Warner Independent Pictures, 39, 132–33. See also Warner Bros. Warshaw, Howard Scott, 116 Wasko, Janet, 38, 42

243

WB Television Network, 55, 67– 68 WCI (Warner Communications, Inc.), 57, 58–59, 111–12, 113 Web sites, movie, 37–52; Batman and Robin, 66– 67; Batman Begins, 69; Batman Forever, 65; controlled interactivity, 44 – 47; Dark Knight, The, 70; major studio versus independent films, 38–39; organic viral marketing, 47–50; promotional approaches, 40 – 41; saturated merchandising, 42– 44 Weiler, Lance, 146 Welcome to the Dollhouse, 140 When Work Disappears (Wilson), 104 Williams, Chris, 119 Wilson, William J., 104 Winant, Howard, 94 Wolf, Mark J. P., 122– 23 World Trade Organization (WTO), 18, 22– 23, 28 Wyatt, Justin, 135 Yar, Majid, 17, 21 Yatt, John, 93, 99 Young, Neil, 121 YouTube, 51, 145, 146, 148 Zulu, 97

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The Business of Entertainment

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The Business of Entertainment VOLUME 2

Popular Music

Edited by Robert C. Sickels

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The business of entertainment / edited by Robert C. Sickels. p. cm. — (Praeger perspectives) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978– 0 –275–99838–7 (set: alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–275–99840–0 (vol. 1 : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–275–99842–4 (vol. 2 : alk. paper) — ISBN 978–0–275–99844–8 (vol. 3 : alk. paper) 1. Performing arts. 2. Performing arts—Economic aspects. I. Sickels, Robert. PN1584.B87 2009 790.2—dc22 2008030435 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 2009 by Robert C. Sickels All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2008030435 ISBN: 978–0–275–99838–7 (set) 978–0–275–99840–0 (vol. 1) 978–0–275–99842–4 (vol. 2) 978–0–275–99844–8 (vol. 3) First published in 2009 Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.greenwood.com Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

I stop somewhere waiting for you. —Walt Whitman

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Contents

Preface by Robert C. Sickels Acknowledgments

xiii

 1

Songwriting, Creativity, and the Music Industry Phillip McIntyre

 2

The Devaluation of Recorded Music: A New Business Model for the Music Industry Richard Strasser

 3

ix

The Macro/International Music Business: Australian Trajectories and Perspectives in a Global Context Guy Morrow

1

21

43

 4

Music Copyright in the Twenty-First Century Robert McParland

59

 5

Rock Brands Mike Emery

75

 6

Mapping the Territory: Cultural Authenticity in World Music Amy M. Corey

93

viii

 7

 8  9

Contents

“I Gave My Rights Away for a Song”: How Billy Bragg Persuaded MySpace to Change Its Tune on Ownership Stephanie Vie 15MB of Fame: Independent Musicians’ Use of MySpace Marjorie D. Kibby “It’s Up To You . . . No Really, It’s Up To You”: Radiohead, Big Music, and the Future of the “Record” Industry Andrew deWaard

 10 The Future of Radio in the Digital Age

107

121

133 155

John Allen Hendricks

 11 The Business of Radio in the Daily Soundscape: Reshaping and Defining the Music Box in Consumer Culture Phylis Johnson

173

 12 The Great Globalization Swindle? The Relationship Between the Global Economy and Music Reconsidered Franz Kasper Kroenig

193

 13 The Independent Record Store as a Site of Cultural Resistance and Anti-McDonaldization—A Case Study of The House of Records David Gracon

205

About the Editor and Contributors

223

Index

227

Preface

The business of entertainment has always been in constant flux, but at the present moment the speed at which change is occurring is singularly unprecedented. As the entertainment industry seeks to evolve and adapt in light of the ascendance of all things digital, 100 years worth of structures and systems appear to be falling away like so much dross. The concomitantly nascent era of “new media,” so the assumption goes, must also by definition mean the death of old media. And in some ways this is true, at least as it concerns the various physical forms of older media such as records and cassettes, VHS tapes, analog television broadcasts, and newspapers actually made of paper. These sorts of things are either already long dead or at best replicating the experience of Homo habilis laying eyes on Homo erectus for the first time; the new era most certainly will not go well for them. In place of the old totems come the new ones—iTunes, HDTV, TiVo, Digital Cinema, and so on—seemingly disparate but unified by their digital make-ups. And this digital nature and the accompanying ease with which music, films, and TV shows can be accessed and made portable allows the new media to be “free.” But free in what sense of the word? Certainly free as concerns the unfettering of the former corporeal state of media. While we need something tangible on which to view it—made unbelievably simple by the proliferation of iPods and like devices—media can be converted into digital ones and zeroes and delivered via the ether almost anywhere in the world at any time. New media is portable and near infinitely accessible, and only becoming more so as technology improves, just as the devices upon which we store our information

x

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grow increasingly infinitesimal (e.g., the iPod Nano). But of greater concern, at least to the giant international media conglomerates that own the rights to so much of what the entertainment industry produces, is the perception that media is actually free—that payment is neither required nor necessary, that the natural state of entertainment is that it should be wholly accessible entirely without cost. This way of thinking is increasingly prevalent in younger consumers, who bristle at paying 99¢ on iTunes for a song or $4 to their cable provider for a movie. Why bother paying for things when you can download them for nothing online with any number of free, very user-friendly, and increasingly hard to trace technologies? And this line of thinking rightfully scares the bejeezus out of the media congloms whose financial lifeblood emanates from their stranglehold on the distribution of their subsidiaries’ products. If, as Michael Wolff claims, “[t]he age of media-distribution monopolies is over,”1 then what comes next? And so the rush is on to answer this and other questions, although I would argue that the desire to bury the old business methods as being somehow inapplicable to new media is, as yet, premature. Yes, it does seem as though the old models aren’t efficient in the present moment and that companies are struggling to hit upon new ones that will be equally profitable. This is especially true as concerns just how the internet will earn income for content providers. And, in fact, perhaps with the exponentially burgeoning number of opportunities for consumers to acquire and view their media, even the attempt to replicate what worked before is questionable. And yet it persists. The ubiquitously adopted concept of media convergence—when a company spreads the promotion and sales of a product across multiple subsidiaries— has yet to prove as profitable as had been hoped, but it’s not like money hasn’t been made. When Sony can make all the Spider-Man movies, which feature music by Sony BMG recording artists, and then sell soundtrack CDs or digital downloads, which can be played on Sony CD players, or ripped for play on a Sony mp3 Walkman, or converted into ring tones for use on a Sony Ericsson cell phone, and sell DVDs to be played on Sony DVD players, and sell video games to be played on Sony PlayStations, and license the images of Spiderman and accompanying characters to be featured on toys, fast food, and any number of other objects—all of which equals billions for the parent company’s bottom line—something is working out as planned. So, it’s no surprise that new media is quickly being bought up not just by other new companies but by the old ones as well—for example, Google owns YouTube while Fox News Corp. now counts MySpace among its subsidiaries. And while they’ve yet to capitalize on just how to maximize profits from these kinds of things or to corner the market on the distribution avenues for new media, it’s impossible to dismiss out of hand the idea that they will. After all, previous innovations and revolutions in the entertainment industry that were supposed to make the companies of old uncompetitive dinosaurs in the

Preface

xi

end only resulted in their becoming bigger and more omnivorous than ever. Who’s to say it won’t happen again? And while it’s fascinating to prognosticate what kinds of industrial changes the latest moment of revolution will result in for the companies involved, what often goes unmentioned in so many breathless glossy magazine features on industry tycoons is what this means for the many artistic folks working in the industry. The same tensions that have always been present between creators and companies remain, none more vivid than the question of whether or not the eternal conflict between art and commerce can ever be peaceably resolved, especially in light of the awesome international dominance of the so-called big six contemporary media conglomerates—Fox, Disney, General Electric, Viacom, Time Warner, and Sony—which control upwards of 90 percent of the U.S. entertainment industry. The creation of entertainment media is the provenance of the artistically minded, whereas the widespread dissemination of their work is the bailiwick of so many Ivy League–trained MBAs. But the digital renaissance has allowed creators more control over their work, especially as concerns making and distributing their art outside of traditional systems. As artists gain more control over their work, how will the media conglomerates, which are always looking to increase the size of their piece of the pie, seek to consolidate their power, and how will this effect what gets made and seen and heard and what doesn’t? How will art and commerce intersect differently in the digital age? And what will the results of their collision ultimately mean for consumers, whose lives are increasingly ensconced in an omnipresent and immediate entertainment industry? While it’s clear that the entertainment industry is once again going through one of its periodic upheavals, what that means is only now beginning to be debated. Are we really going into a new era in which all the old models cease to apply, or will the old behemoths weather yet another storm only to once again emerge intact and even larger than they were in previous incarnations? And how will artists trying to maintain their integrity and beliefs reconcile their visions with those of the corporate entities for which they must almost certainly work should they want their creations ever to be seen by a larger audience? It’s the answers to these questions with which the various authors contributing to The Business of Entertainment: Popular Music grapple. In the opening chapter, Phillip McIntyre’s “Songwriting, Creativity, and the Music Industry,” McIntyre discusses the uninterrupted primacy of the song as the dominant form of the music industry. Next is Richard Strasser’s “The Devaluation of Recorded Music: A New Business Model for the Music Industry,” in which he details the implications of musicians’ newfound ability to release their work outside the traditional system. This is followed by Guy Morrow’s “The Macro/International Music Business: Australian Trajectories and Perspectives in a Global Context,” which elucidates possible

xii

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methods that companies outside of the mainstream U.S. market can use to get the musicians they’ve signed heard in the wider world. Setting the context for intellectual property issues associated with music is Robert McParland’s “Music Copyright in the Twenty-First Century.” “Rock Brands,” by Mike Emery, looks at how bands who have “made it” continue to thrive by establishing themselves as brands, while Amy M. Corey’s “Mapping the Territory: Cultural Authenticity in World Music” shows the role power, economy, and ideology play in understanding the term world music. In “ ‘I Gave My Rights Away for a Song’: How Billy Bragg Persuaded MySpace to Change Its Tune on Ownership,” Stephanie Vie dissects just what the rise of musicians’ self-distribution of their work via Web sites owned by media conglomerates might mean for the ownership of their songs. Conversely, Marjorie D. Kibby’s “15MB of Fame: Independent Musicians’ Use of MySpace” highlights the ways in which musicians can exploit sites such as MySpace to promote themselves and what this could hold for the future of independent music. Central to the idea of new media is who owns it and how much it should cost, which Andrew deWaard deftly discusses in “ ‘It’s Up to You . . . No Really, It’s Up to You’: Radiohead, Big Music, and the Future of the ‘Record’ Industry.” John Allen Hendricks’ “The Future of Radio in the Digital Age” talks about how a perceived old media will likely live on in the new era, even as its traditional form changes. Likewise, Phylis Johnson’s “The Business of Radio in the Daily Soundscape: Reshaping and Defining the Music Box in Consumer Culture” argues that radio is proliferating in the digital era and likely only going to continue to do so. This is followed by Franz Kroenig’s “The Great Globalization Swindle? The Relationship Between the Global Economy and Music Reconsidered,” in which he posits that popular music is art and that as such it is resistant to attempts to render it a commodity. Last is David Gracon’s “The Independent Record Store as a Site of Cultural Resistance and Anti-McDonaldization—A Case Study of The House of Records,” which charmingly discusses the role The House of Records plays in the community of Eugene, Oregon, and what that implies about America at large. Ultimately, it is our hope that these chapters will serve to introduce their readers to the rich and myriad array of issues facing the contemporary music industry and how they might play out on a worldwide cultural stage. And perhaps they will also contribute to new ways of thinking about and researching the business of entertainment as it applies to popular music and what it continues to mean in a rapidly changing industry and world. Robert C. Sickels NOTE 1. Michael Wolff, “The Best of Enemies,” Vanity Fair, April 2008, 134.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks are due to my editor at Praeger Publishers, Jeff Olson, for his patience, invaluable input, and quality baseball talk, even if he is a Red Sox fan. Thanks are also due to Praeger’s Nick Philipson and Lindsay Claire, who helped immensely in getting this project off the ground and seeing it through to completion. Special thanks are also due to all the authors who contributed their pieces to these collections; I am very grateful and appreciative. I’d also like to thank professor Michael Branch of the University of Nevada, Reno, for his tireless guidance, inspiration, and friendship over the years; he showed me a sterling path that I’ve tried my best to follow. Thanks to Whitman College and the support of my colleagues and friends here, especially Robert Withycombe and Jana Byars. And thanks to my dad, who taught me to always do your work and don’t make excuses, and to my mom, who always had time to take me to a movie or buy me a book. Lastly, thanks to my kids, Dutch and Tallulah, who put up with me throughout what was a long and arduous process.

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chapter 1

Songwriting, Creativity, and the Music Industry Phillip McIntyre

Songwriting is at the very heart of the contemporary music industry. Songs are written, performed, recorded, listened to, bought, downloaded, and litigated over. They can make and break artists’ careers. For example, the Gerry Goffin and Carole King classic “The Locomotion” was the song that not only launched Little Eva in the fifties but also Kylie Minogue in the eighties. It demonstrates “the power of a strong commercial song to shoot a newcomer to stardom,” and that power extends to maintaining artists at the peak of their game.1 That power is the essential element that greases the wheels of the music industry’s fortunes. As Jimmy Webb asserts, “songs are the raw material that power the reactor of a large part of the entertainment business.”2 In fact, without these potent symbol systems, there would be no music industry at all. From the early days of the industry when the focus was centered on the publishing houses right through to the later establishment of the recording industry as the dominant industry player, the rights of ownership attached to songs have remained paramount.3 It is the buying and selling of these rights that has ensured that songs remain central to the industry’s processes. This centrality continues to be crucial even as the music industry now appears to be going through another of its periodic upheavals as the digital age works its magic. As Debbie Kruger writes, For many the digital age has transformed the writing process, and especially for those songwriters who create songs for other artists to perform, that process involves the ability to create a fully produced studio demo. Steve Kipner calls himself a “record writer” rather than a songwriter. Even

2

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those who began in their earliest days simply singing out ideas to their bandmates and bringing a song to life in rehearsal are now engrossed by the possibilities of Pro Tools. Fortunately, whatever the method, the songs continue to come.4

While there have been other musical forms used by the music industry, as Tim Wall argues, it is the song that remains the dominant one. It was established “as the dominant compositional structure as early as the late eighteenth century. Most major styles of twentieth-century popular music—including ballads, ragtime, jazz, big band, rock & roll, rock, soul, reggae, punk, metal, indie—have either reproduced this structure or been based upon some modification of it.”5 This continues on into the twenty-first century with hip-hop, gabba, jungle, and a proliferation of other genres and styles. When Lou Barlow, former songwriter with Dinosaur Jr., now with Sebadoh and the Folk Implosion, was learning a song recorded by Shania Twain, he came to the realization, as many other successful writers had done before him, that there was a common element to the songs he was involved with. The way [this] song is written really isn’t that different from the songs I write. There really is a formula to writing songs, and it’s still really satisfying even in its cheesiest forms, like insanely slick modern country. But if I were to strip that song down and play it at an acoustic show, I’m sure someone would come up to me and say “Hey man, what song is that? That’s really good!” You could put that song over on anybody . . . I spent a lot of time in those days creating stuff on 4-track that I thought was subverting the basic song form, not going for the standard verse-chorus-verse-chorusbridge form. But despite all that sort of ambitious thinking, in the end the song wins out. And everyone always loves a great song, even the people with the most experimental tastes . . . I didn’t even know what a middle-eight was until a couple months ago. “That’s the middle eight? You mean the third part of a song?” I just always thought the song should go where the lyrics go: If you’re being righteous through the verse and the chorus and you want to back off a little, that’s what the third part is for. Or if you want to take it totally over the top and start screaming your head off, that’s where the third part comes in.6

Barlow was also impressed with the “inner logic” of the Brill Building writers (legendary New York City songwriters such as Carole King and Neil Sedaka who worked in the Brill Building) and is happy that writers from widely divergent genres work with essentially the same form. “I just realised how many songs you can play with G, C and D. It’s really endless. From Tom Petty to Hank Williams to the Stooges, it’s all there.”7 This idea, that there are primary forms in Western popular music, is reinforced by the writers from the KLF, a collective of British House musicians. They argue that “the

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complete history of the blues is based on one chord structure, hundreds of thousands of songs using the same three basic chords in the same pattern.”8 John Braheny, in his book The Craft and Business of Song Writing, outlines the various forms currently in use by popular songwriters. These not only include, amongst others, the ternary form derived from the European popular music tradition and favored by prewar composers such as Jerome Kern, Irving Berlin, and Cole Porter but also the verse/chorus forms and its variants typical of many African-derived musics. Contrary to what critical theorist Theodor Adorno argued, Braheny asserts that, [T]here are no absolute rules or formulas for songwriting. For every “rule,” you’ll find a song that broke that rule and succeeded . . . instead of learning “rules” you need to be aware of principles, the freedoms and restrictions of the medium for which you want to write, and have at your command a wide range of options with which to solve each creative problem.9

The domain of songwriting thus appears to be governed more by formalized convention rather than the precise rules that characterize other domains such as, for example, math. The use of convention rather than precise rules as a central aspect of popular music writing highlights the fact that a songwriter, in terms of the argument being presented here, must draw on the specific domain of songwriting, the forms and conventions of the popular song, itself a subset of the domain of music, in order for that songwriter to write songs. For the Western contemporary popular music songwriter working predominantly in the Anglo-American popular music tradition, the assumption is that the Western harmonic system, the language of music, song structure and lyric construction, and all the associated conventions are significant parts of the symbol system they manipulate.10 Without access to this knowledge, this domain of songwriting, it would be difficult for a songwriter to contribute their ideas to the complex system that throws up popular hit after popular hit. Songwriters therefore must develop what Pierre Bourdeu calls a habitus, in this case a songwriter’s habitus. Acquiring a habitus can be seen as the development of: a “feel for the game,” a “practical sense” (sens practique) that inclines agents to act and react in specific situations in a manner that is not always calculated and that is not simply a question of conscious obedience to rules. Rather it is a set of dispositions which generates practices and perceptions.11

This description has some close similarities to the ideas suggested by Donald Schon on the acquisition of a practitioner’s skill base. He suggests practitioner’s skills become “internalized in our tacit knowing” and argues that “we are often unaware of having learned to do these things; we simply find

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ourselves doing them.”12 In this process, the ability to write, as John Braheny argues, almost becomes automatic. Paul McCartney’s perhaps apocryphal story of the writing of Yesterday is a case in point.13 “Yesterday” came out of the blue, I’ve no idea where from. I dreamed the melody. I woke up and I had the melody in my head. It depends how far you want to go with this; if you’re very spiritual then God sent me a melody, I’m a mere vehicle. If you wanna be a bit more cynical, then I was loading my computer for millions of years listening to all the stuff I listened to through my dad and through my musical tastes, including people like Fred Astaire, Gershwin, and finally my computer printed out one morning what it thought was a good tune.14

So how do songwriters, the central operatives upon which the music industry relies, go about acquiring this tacit knowledge? For Bourdieu the acquisition of a songwriter’s habitus is “the result of a long process of inculcation . . . which becomes a ‘second sense’ or a second nature.”15 More prosaically, research indicates songwriters learn about the domain of songwriting through a number of fairly common methods. These include both formal and informal education processes such as, in no order of priority: having access to poetic skills seen as akin to lyric writing skills in the formal education process; having access to elementary music lessons as part of the compulsory schooling system; receiving semiformal instruction from musicians engaged in private tuition; learning songs as part of learning an instrument; learning songs for performance; engaging in a degree of autodidacticism through access to peer information and ad-hoc mentoring within a form of oral transmission of domain knowledge; absorbing their familial musical influences; and absorbing the information stored in multiple numbers of songs through their access to popular culture transmissions as fans of popular music themselves.16 As an example of how one songwriter acquired his domain knowledge, George Gershwin: began his professional career in “Tin Pan Alley,” a location in New York City where aspiring composers and songwriters would bring their scores to a publisher in hopes of selling the tunes for a modest amount of cash. As a “song plugger” for the Jerome Remick Company, George was exposed to thousands of songs, which gave him a better idea for what songs had a successful quality.17

Once a songwriter has access to this stored information, that is, the accumulated field of works (a concept developed by Pierre Bourdieu in his book Rules of Art ) of songwriting, they move on to manipulating this symbol system to add to and contribute to the wealth of the extensive popular song tradition. As Paul Zollo asserts, “this is precisely the way songwriters learn to write songs, imitating and emulating that which inspires us until our own styles gradually emerge.”18

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In the course of the varied styles developing out of the manipulation of this conventional symbol system known as the song there have been some corresponding changes in the conditions and positions held by songwriters. For example, what songwriters such as Harold Arlen and Hoagy Carmichael did in the earlier part of the twentieth century is different than what songwriters do now. As Bob Barratt explains, “in those days music publishers printed music regularly, few singers wrote their own material and hits were somehow easier to pick. The successful songwriters of today, however, frequently wear more than one hat, doubling as singers, musicians, record producers or even managers.”19 Apart from Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, the songwriting and producing team who were instrumental in many of Elvis Presley’s early hits, who claimed “we didn’t write songs, we wrote records,”20 one of the prime examples of this type includes John Fogerty, formerly of Creedence Clearwater Revival. Fogerty, who wrote, arranged, and produced all of their hits, also managed the band, and after his band’s accountants involved him in an offshore banking scheme, and after losing the ownership of his songs, he lost the veritable fortune that he’d worked long and hard for. He was then sued by his old record company for writing songs that sounded like, of all things, himself. Fogerty now advises songwriters to “pick their friends very wisely.”21 The things that may go wrong don’t come from far over the horizon, from some unseen force over there. It’s usually the people right close to you that are going to be able to do you harm. That’s what happened to me. I don’t mean that you should be cynical. I mean you have to put your face somewhere. But I guess the best advice is to choose your friends wisely. Otherwise you spend a lifetime paying for the wrong decisions. But I don’t want you to come away from our meeting here thinking I’m a cynical person. I’ve learnt a lot. It’s a lot harder to trick me now. One of the saddest things that happened to me, let’s say, was that I wrote all these songs and somebody else owns them because they . . . it’s what’s called the publishing. They own the copyrights. They choose how those songs are used. You may have seen one or more bad movies that my songs are in. That’s another specific thing you could tell young songwriters. Don’t give away your publishing. Keep the ownership for yourself. Still I would say don’t go around poking everybody in the eye either, because if you’re confident and you know your own worth people will come to you. You don’t have to beg. And I think that’s very important for all artists really. Don’t get talked into doing things that you don’t really want to do.22

Prince was another songwriting polymath who produced, arranged, composed, and performed on his own albums and released a string of international hit singles in the eighties. The following decades saw a significant number of producers, especially those working in the variety of genres that typify electronica, carrying on this tradition.

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For an outsider, the industry could thus appear to have become more complex, though no less predatory, for songwriters than it seemed to be in the halcyon days of publishing. But despite this apparent complexity, there are certainly ways to understand its current structures. While the music industry can be seen to revolve around recording and live performance the publishing arm of this industry still remains central to songwriters’ incomes. So how does this system actually work? In the early days of the industry, the emergence of “scoring meant the emergence of a new music-making figure, the composer (who no longer had to take the stage; composition could now be separated from performance), and a new money-making figure, the publisher; composers needed someone to get their work to market.”23 With the advent of recording, this neat arrangement between songwriters and publishers persisted, but while publishers were concerned with the rights of the composer or songwriter, the record companies concerned themselves with the newer rights that subsisted in the material or mechanical object that carried fixed versions of the song. Publishers thus work to promote the song and collect royalties for the songwriter, while the record company works to sell a material object, that is, the recording of the song. In creating that record, the record company has to be granted a license to use the song in this way and must pay a royalty to the publishers in order to do so. Noting that for legal purposes songwriters and performers are generally treated as separate entities, matters become more complex when the songwriter is also the performer on the recording. This situation became the norm after the massive success of Lennon and McCartney in the sixties, a success that was aided by their publisher Dick James.24 Dick James, a songwriter himself, was a struggling publisher when Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, approached him after a recommendation by George Martin about publishing Lennon and McCartney’s songs. James set up a company called Northern Songs to house the songs, and Dick James Music then went into partnership with Lennon and McCartney. James signed Lennon and McCartney to a publishing deal and set about negotiating a good royalty rate with EMI, the Beatles’ record company. But while the Beatles did well, the deal proved to be advantageous to Dick James in the long term. He virtually had a controlling interest in Northern Songs, and when he decided to sell the company, there was little either Lennon or McCartney could do about it, and one of the greatest songwriting catalogues of the twentieth century slipped from the original songwriter’s hands. James went on to sign Elton John to his publishing company. At the time Elton originally signed with him it was normal for the publisher to take the writer’s songs for the life of copyright. Elton’s contract to supply Dick James Music with songs would eventually come to an end. But all the songs he’d given the company during the period of his contract

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would remain the company’s property until seventy years after Elton John had died. Elton didn’t want to wait that long and in 1986 he went to court to get them back. Elton based his case on the fact that Dick James had operated the standard sixties scam of dividing the royalties in half twice, sub-publishing songs to his own subsidiary companies in other countries on a 50 –50 basis. But Elton didn’t sue for the money skimmed from him in this fashion, he sued for the return of his songs which had been assigned to Dick James for “life of copyright.”25

In order to gain some understanding of how situations like this might occur, as Alan Siegel, Tim Whitsett, Lee Wilson, Donald Passman, and Shane Simpson variously explain, it can be seen that as a songwriter you could own 100 percent of a written song. However, if you engage a publisher, a separate business entity, to publish, promote, and administer the song, the royalties earned from the song will be split in two. There is a writer’s share, usually 50 percent, and a publisher’s share, also usually 50 percent. If there is more than one writer, the writer’s share is split between the writers according to whatever agreement they have in place. The publisher’s share goes to the publisher to administer and promote the song. The publisher will usually have the rights in the song assigned to them, that is, the ownership of the song, for a certain period or term. This means the publisher can control the use of the song for this period and may be entitled to maintain ownership in the song for the life of the copyright. However, if a publisher does not do the best thing by the song and does not actively promote it, a reversion clause will allow the song’s rights to be returned to the songwriter. With these conditions in place, the publisher is then able to issue licenses for others to use the song. The publisher is, in essence, obligated to try to get other people to do cover versions and place the songs in movies, in TV shows, and any other places where income can be derived. The publisher should thus actively sell the song for the songwriter. This is their job. They do not, and should not, just collect and administer royalty income. Sometimes a record company will also want to act as a publisher. This is fine if a copublishing deal is undertaken. This means that the publisher’s share, and only the publishers share, can be split fifty-fifty with the writer. In practice, this arrangement means that the writer earns 75 percent of the total royalties on the song, and the record label, as copublisher, collects 25 percent of the total royalties. For their share they must act as a normal publisher would, administering and promoting the song. Conversely, a songwriter might wish to self-publish. In this case, the writer also acts as publisher and receives 100 percent of all income. However, they must administer and promote the song themselves as well as registering their own publishing company with the relevant collection agencies.

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In either case, performance royalties are paid to the owner of the rights in a song whenever the song is played in a public place. Organizations such as BMI and ASCAP in the United States collect all of the income in the form of fees from radio, TV, plays in restaurants, juke boxes, retail outlets, hold messages, mobile phone ring tones, bands playing the song in their live set, and so on. The performing rights organization then, “splits the income fifty-fifty between publisher and songwriter, and pays each of them separately.”26 Synchronization royalties are also paid when a song is used in movies or videos, but most often a negotiated flat fee is paid here. The Harry Fox Agency in the United States, “provides licensing services to thousands of publishers, issuing mechanical licenses to record companies and collecting mechanical royalties on the publisher’s behalf.”27 A good publisher will thus actively promote the song so as to maximize the income from these various sources. In summary, a publishing deal is like taking on a business partner. One partner, the publisher, finances and administers the business, while the other partner, the songwriter, manufactures the basic product for sale, that is, the song. Often the publisher will also loan a songwriter money in order for the writer to keep writing and keep the wolf from the door. This loan is known as an advance, and this money is repaid by the songwriter using the money they collect from royalties. An advance, like any other loan, must eventually be paid back from profits. But like any other business loan, it can help finance an operation. Another way to look at this relationship is to see it as a form of patronage. As Edward Samuels argues, copyright, which underpins this system of patronage, will continue to be important “for as long as we want to encourage the making of creative works.”28 With songwriters having to wear multiple hats, this patronage can certainly be advantageous because, even with the best will in the world, “even if you have the right attitude it’s difficult to be both a songwriter and a publisher because of the time required for each.”29 It not only takes time, but it also costs money to tour, it costs money to record, and it costs money to manufacture, promote, and distribute songs. The field of popular music, the social organization that understands and works with the symbol systems of popular music, wants and deserves to be paid for the activities they undertake and the services they perform. Howard Becker, for one, argues that there are myriad activities to be undertaken for an art work, in this case a song, to come into existence. From inspiration to idea, then on to the execution of that idea, and finally to its manufacture and distribution, the song is subject to a reliance upon a complex network of many players or workers. Becker suggests that in order “to analyse an art world we look for its characteristic kinds of workers and the bundle of tasks each one does.”30 Bourdieu also claimed that this collection of workers, along with the objective social relations they engage with, could be analyzed by looking at various “arenas of production, circulation, and appropriation

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of goods, services, knowledge, or status, and the competitive positions held by actors in their struggle to accumulate and monopolise” various forms of capital.31 From Bourdieu’s perspective, this capital is not just financial but can be symbolic or cultural capital that allows songwriters to not only sell or lease rights but trade on their reputations within this contested space or field. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi also argues that a field is seen as being necessary as it is the function of the field “to determine whether the innovation is worth making a fuss about.”32 With these propositions as guides, evidence can be found that a song’s existence depends on the field for contemporary Western popular music.33 This field can be seen to consist of not only the publishing industry but also the other branches of the music industry to which it is intimately connected, that is, the recording industry, the live performance arena, and the various functions of management, promotion, and distribution. Who is financed to write songs and how and why certain songs receive promotion, publicity, and remuneration are dependent on a set of critical factors songwriters must learn in order to write songs. As Braheny argues, “unsung thousands possess the talent and craft to write great songs, but without understanding the business and the knowledge of how to protect your creations and get them heard by those who can make them successful, those songs are like orphans.”34 A knowledge of the music industry, as it applies to songwriters, is thus essential. For example, Al Kasha and Joel Hirschhorn, who’ve sold over 52 million records, strongly suggest from their own early experiences that knowing what to look for is “the essential factor in achieving artistic and commercial success. These publishers [who looked at their initial efforts] were not able to articulate technically what was lacking in our song—but long experience gave them an intuitive feeling of public taste, an instinct that something was wrong.”35 It wasn’t until they took on board the ideas of the field, a process of being socialized into its norms and enculturated into its practices, and developed a songwriter’s habitus themselves that Kasha and Hirschhorn began to receive their share of success as songwriters within the industry. In this sense, each person that constitutes the actors who are operative in this field, and this includes producers, engineers, managers, other songwriters, artists and performers, agents, promoters, film music agents, film directors and producers looking for songs, road crews, tour managers, A&R execs, sales reps, retailers, radio programs and music directors, music journalists, and so on, can also be seen to operate as cultural intermediaries. The notion of cultural intermediary was introduced by Bourdieu to make a necessary distinction between this idea and that of the related notion of gatekeeping, a term “widely used to describe the process by which selections are made in media work.”36 Gatekeeping, as Keith Negus argues, is too simplistic a notion. He is of the opinion that “most creative ideas and products will not only be filtered but also mediated by the field.”37 Rather than simply letting or not letting

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songs pass intact through the system, the very act of making those decisions has a direct effect on the way songs are produced and created. As cultural intermediaries, recording industry personnel are constantly contributing to the production of and then reorganising, circulating and mediating the words, sounds and images of popular music to audiences across a range of entertainment media and cultural texts (recordings, videos, advertisements, broadcasts, books, magazines, computer games and various merchandise).38

In the case of Bruce Springsteen, this mediation could be taken a step further. Jon Landau, who had an exclusive management arrangement with Springsteen, also had a hand in the creative process that led to the writing of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark single. Sensing that the Born in the USA album was not complete, Landua wanted a particular sort of song written, and after much argument, he sent Springsteen away to write a song based on the themes and ideas Landau was suggesting. As Springsteen’s manager, Landau’s reasoning was that the album being recorded “needed it, that it would be artistically incomplete until such a song existed.”39 While this is an acute example, cultural intermediaries are usually less overt in their manipulation of the process. For example, it could be claimed that without the decisions being made about what gets played on radio, in particular, and the increasingly necessary relationship with television, the ability of songwriters to continue to operate in this creative field would be significantly curtailed. There is also some evidence to suggest that certain radio music directors will have a direct effect on songwriting.40 Furthermore, the press, as an ancillary to the music industry, are also vital, and with the proliferation of Web-based media—Web sites, e-mail, blogs, commercial entities such as MySpace, and so on—songwriters are also finding alternative methods of engaging with the field and, ultimately, the audiences for contemporary Western popular music. MySpace, in particular, has recently been touted as a successful alternative way for new songwriters and artists to expose their work to an audience and reach a wide and numerically viable number of them without incurring the costs of touring a significant number of territories or engaging directly with a record company. This Web site is, however, demonstrably only one link in an increasingly complex promotional and distribution chain that uses both traditional and nontraditional means. Two of the more prominent beneficiaries of this process in operation recently can be seen in the case of Sandi Thom and also the Arctic Monkeys. Thom undertook a virtual tour from her basement flat in the United Kingdom when she Webcast her performances on a hosting company, Streaming Tank’s, Web site. She promoted the gigs on MySpace. She was signed to

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Windswept Pacific Music publishers and a small Scottish record company called Viking Legacy and, at the time of the song being released, employed a PR company to promote it. After the mainstream media in the United Kingdom, including The Times, BBC 2, Virgin, and Capital Radio, got involved and pushed the story and thus sales even further, Thom was signed to Sony, who re-released the song and single. It went on to top both the Australian and U.K. charts. The Arctic Monkeys had a similar although more rock-oriented experience. This young band from Sheffield in the United Kingdom had had many of their song demos circulated by fans, which were freely available to them on the band’s Web site. This audience interest was capitalized upon by the band, and they become a popular live act in the north of England. When the British press and BBC radio began pushing the band, along with a Webcast being placed on the Internet, the Arctic Monkeys had secured a large enough audience to enable them to tour successfully across the United Kingdom. The songs, also embedded on a limited number of EP CDs and vinyl singles, were available for download from the iTunes music store and promotion on their MySpace site ensured they sold well. Their first album release became a highly anticipated event. This strategy had worked remarkably well for the band. However, rather than this being a radical replacement model for the operation of the industry, it can be seen as yet another example of an inventive and adaptable way to become a crucial part of that industry. Once the band had attracted the attention of industry players, the cultural intermediaries who could further their success, they played the game well enough to be able to choose who would finance their operations. The band had signed to Domino records and then licensed their songs for certain other territories across the world to EMI Music publishing. They took on a tour of the United States in the same way bands had done for years before them. They even accepted three NME Music Awards in 2006, placing them alongside the then-current mainstays of the industry, such as Oasis and The Strokes. The difficulty all of these rock bands faced was how to stay part of an industry and maintain a romantic artistic ethos and distance themselves from that industry at the same time. The rock world, in particular, has taken on board the romantic view of creativity, which, despite it having little evidence to prove its veracity, continues to be a central belief in a heavily contradictory music world. This problem has occasionally plagued Paul McCartney. One of the more central figures for change in the songwriting world of the twentieth century, McCartney has survived inside the same industry, negotiating many songs through this field of cultural intermediaries despite these apparent paradoxes being in play. He also has now eschewed the traditional form of record company–dominated sales approaches and engages with his audience through his own extensive Web site, e-mail fan lists, Webcasts, DVDs, and

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CDs. His shows are performed as one-off events and then made available as mp3 downloads from companies such as iTunes with hard copies being available from Amazon.com.41 The latest was an iTunes exclusive release titled “Live At The ICA Festival,” which was recorded at his 2007 show at the iTunes Festival in London. Although he still has affiliations with the EMI subsidiary Parlophone, McCartney’s latest financial partner is Starbucks, a company just starting to be known for its affiliation with the music industry. What is significant about these recent examples is that despite the route to success being most often circuitous, and now often virtual, the fundamental need to engage with the field of popular music for these songwriters is still important because, despite the recent emphasis on a new way of doing business, promotion and distribution as primary business strategies remain an essential part of the process of bringing a song to an audience. Others have also realized this. Operating out of the United States, Jodi Krangle, for example, has dedicated herself to producing an e-zine called The Muse’s News.42 This e-zine is for and about songwriters and deals with music reviews, spotlights new artists, and contains songwriting book reviews, promotions of songwriting contests, and market information. It promotes new online songwriting and music business courses and Web sites that inspire, has articles on cowriting for example, and contains classifieds and useful services as well as a list of handy contact information delivered straight to the songwriter’s desktop. Not only has this online dissemination of information been crucial for some songwriters, but many now exist in a virtual online world that has replaced the more traditional one. Mark Wells, one of the songwriters for independent Newcastle, N.S.W., band Supersonic, finds the band’s Web site invaluable: Absolutely. It’s a quick easy reference. You can make one quick phone call to a member of the music industry anywhere and refer them to your website. And they can find out exactly what you’re all about very quickly and very easily. The postage bills have gone down! I mean it’s basically the equivalent of sending out a package that you’d take two days to send down, all the hard copies of the bio, CD and everything. You can have it all locked down on the web. Email tends to be the thing to do now. Everyone wants to correspond by email. It’s a way of confirming and solidifying performance arrangements and communicating with people all throughout the music industry at all levels. I think it seems to be a universal kind of communicator.43

In addition to these uses, this technology has also been useful for Supersonic in terms of engaging with an audience: As an independent band, without the backing of some kind of promotion and distribution company, it’s very difficult to get your music out there

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but when you combine the internet with regular live performance across the country as well as radio airplay on some of the community and noncommercial radio stations that’s when it becomes most effective for us because it enables everyone to be able to easily access our material.44

It can also be contended that the audience for popular music may also be recognized as a significant constituent and active set of cultural intermediaries of this field as it has the ability to regulate the life of a recorded song and partially govern the longevity of a songwriter’s enterprise. What an audience buys and thinks can have a direct effect on the decisions songwriters make, the chords they choose, the structures they’ll tend to use, and the lyric content that attracts that audience. With the reconceptualization of audiences from that of passive receivers of information to that of active participants in the process, in not only using songs for purposes that the writers or manufacturers may not have intended but also in participating in the act of making meaning, it can be seen that the audience itself can be considered a vital part of the creative process.45 These contentions seem to run counter to the commonsense understandings of creativity, which are predominantly focused on single individuals. But, despite its widespread adherence, the essentially romantic beliefs held by actors within the music industry (and this belief system is adhered to by audiences as well) is nonetheless a rather difficult position to invest with a rational explanation.46 The creation of songs and who is entitled to exploit them has been a binding force in the operation of the music industry for some time, and yet, as Roy Shuker asserts, knowledge about this area of creativity, how it happens, is quite sparse.47 There is precious little written in an academic sense about the way choices are made when songs are created and the relationship between those choices and the music industry itself.48 Despite this lack of work Keith Negus and Michael Pickering suggest that: creativity is one of the most important yet unexplored issues in the study of popular music. Its significance is routinely noted, usually in passing, and its value often taken for granted. Its conceptual status in music studies is that of an unquestioned commonplace. Most of all, it is raised in reference to what is taken to be in opposition to it, to what is held as restricting or obstructing its realization and potential . . . What it involves in its own right or what meanings it is made to carry are seldom subject to any critical attention.49

The dearth of rationally focused research into the way songs are created from those researching popular music may have more to do with the music industry’s underpinning and self-sustaining belief in a predominantly romantic artistic ethos than anything else, but the fact of the matter is that “popular music depends on the collaboration of creators and bureaucrats [and] the

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tensions between them, a tension usually read ideologically as art v commerce, is built into the system.”50 The major problem, as Coombes argues, is that: perhaps no area of human creativity relies more heavily upon appropriation and allusion, borrowing and imitation, sampling and intertextual commentary than music, nor any area where the mythic figure of the creative genius composing in the absence of all external influence is more absurd.51

The research world tends to agree. Most often creativity is thought of in a common-sense way with the ideas underpinning it persisting despite problems with the basic assumptions.52 These widespread views could be labeled either the inspirational view or the romantic view.53 Either way, there is such a deeply held belief in these views that a scientific investigation of creativity appears to be not only wrong-headed but almost sacrilegious.54 However, Margaret Boden for one contends that: these views are believed by many to be literally true. But they are rarely critically examined. They are not theories, so much as myths: imaginative constructions, whose function is to express the values, assuage the fears, and endorse the practices of the community that celebrates them.55

Both positions, the inspirational and the romantic, have lead eventually to the stereotypical view of the quasineurotic artist existing in their garret waiting for the muse to arrive or inspiration to strike.56 These views have held sway in the music industry for some time and underpin many of its concerns, including the present issues surrounding copyright.57 But these conceptions of creative persons and their creative activity are difficult to sustain when one examines in any empirical way how artistic work, or any innovative work for that matter, actually does occur.58 Embedded in the research are significant counter propositions to the inspirationist and romantic positions. This research has come from a variety of disciplines. It includes work from sociology,59 including those concerned primarily with art and cultural production,60 the field of literary criticism,61 postructuralism,62 and the media studies arm of communication and cultural studies.63 Psychology, whether in its neuro, cognitive, psychoanalytic, behavioral, or social variants, has produced a significant body of work in this area.64 On their own, each of these schools of thought provides an apparently feasible set of explanations for creativity, but each may be seen as narrowly focused on specific aspects of the phenomenon. What becomes apparent in looking at this research over time, however, is a fundamental move away from viewing creativity as an individual level phenomenon. As Peter Wicke argues, “the shift from a hierarchical model of music—with the composer at the top and all the other participants merely following the instructions

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he has set down in the score—to a collective organised form is the crucial conceptual change.”65 The more recent advent of what has been labeled the confluence approach to creativity, owing a partial debt to Morris Stein, sees creativity arising out of a multiple set of factors, including personal, societal, and cultural ones being in play within a complex, recursive, iterative, and active process. Following Bourdieu, it can be argued that popular music songwriters, while having the ability to make creative choices, are not absolutely free in making those choices because they must engage with a pre-existing set of structures. A songwriter draws on, via their habitus and cultural capital, the specific sets of knowledge pertinent to the cultural practice of songwriting that exists within the traditions of the field of contemporary Western popular music, that is, its field of works. They must also enter an arena of social contestation, what Bourdieu calls a field, competing with each other to have their songs heard and become successful. As exemplified previously, it is the interplay between the spheres of an individual’s habitus, the field they operate in, and the accumulated knowledge that exists in the field of works that actually makes songwriting practice possible. This conclusion, to me, seems to be remarkably similar to that proposed by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s systems model of creativity.66 This model accepts that songwriters work within a system that shapes and governs their creativity while they contribute to and alter that system. Csikszentmihalyi doesn’t ascribe sole responsibility for creativity to the productive individual, but neither does he assert that creativity is beyond the locus of individual producers and located solely within the determinations presented by the societies and cultures they inhabit. Instead he argues that: for creativity to occur, a set of rules and practices must be transmitted from the domain to the individual. The individual must then produce a novel variation in the content of the domain. The variation then must be selected by the field for inclusion in the domain.67

To put it simply, “each of the three main systems—person, field and domain— affects the others and is affected by them in turn . . . The starting point on this map is purely arbitrary.”68 According to this set of hypotheses, when a songwriter engages in a creative act they operate within the tensions of agency, the ability to make choice and structure, determining factors set up by their biological imperatives, their cultural inheritance, and the operation of the creative system, which includes themselves, the domain, and the field of popular music. In this act the creative agent of the songwriter, as seen in the descriptions set out previously, then must necessarily draw on the specific domain of songwriting, which is a subset of the domain of music and at the same time a subset of the

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domain of language and speech. That is, the specific domain of songwriting for a contemporary Western popular music songwriter includes such things as the language of music, the Western harmonic system, song structure, and lyric construction, with all their conventions. Musicians, producers, engineers, publishers, tour managers, audiences, and so on are the individuals who make up the network of interlocking roles that constitute the field of songwriting. It is the social organization of the field that decides whether what the person has produced is admissible as part of the domain. It is the social organization, or field, that decides whether the song is acceptable as a song in the first place and, secondly, how creative that song is in relation to all other songs. From this perspective, creativity is socially and historically specific, for what one period decides is creative another may see as simply bizarre. Each new song that is accepted as being creative via its social validation by the field must then become part of the domain. It is in this way that a culture changes and moves on over a period of time. Furthermore, if Bourdieu is correct in asserting that agency and structure are interdependent, by suggesting that the interplay between these two spheres makes practice possible, Negus may also be correct in assuming that “the industry needs to be understood as both a commercial business driven by the pursuit of profit and a site of creative human activity from which some very great popular music has come and continues to emerge.”69 If it is the case that creativity is indeed systemic, some reappraisal from within the industry by those who both deal with and promote songs may be necessary, especially given the emphasis on songwriters as romantic artists in the latter part of the twentieth century. While this change in focus may present problems in terms of marketing, as the audience also believes in the romantic nature of songwriting and creativity, a systemic approach to creativity may in fact be more accurate and ultimately reveal many more pragmatic opportunities for success than the romantic and inspirationist understanding of songwriting currently allows. The corollary is that this change may also take away the basis of the ideas, centered as they are in romanticist aesthetics, that underpin the questions of artistic authenticity, which are themselves so central to many songwriter’s understandings of themselves and their creative process. NOTES 1. Al Kasha and Joel Hirschborn, If They Ask You, You Can Write A Song (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1979), 23. 2. Jimmy Webb, Tunesmith: Inside the Art of Songwriting (New York: Hyperion, 1998), 308. 3. For a more detailed account of this history see Russel Sanjek, American Popular Music and Its Business: The First Four Hundred Years (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988).

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4. Debbie Kruger, Songwriters Speak: Conversations about Creating Music (Sydney: Limelight Press, 2005), 12. 5. Tim Wall, Studying Popular Music Culture (London: Arnold, 2003), 123. 6. Lou Barlow quoted in James Rotondi, “Alex Chilton: Big Star’s Reluctant Legend,” in Guitar Player, ed. Dominic Milano (New York: Miller Freeman Group, 1994), 81–82. 7. Ibid., 82. 8. KLF, The Manual: How to Have a Number One the Easy Way ( London: KLF Publications, London, 1988), 29. 9. John Braheny, The Craft and Business of Song Writing ( London: Omnibus Press, 1990), vi. 10. For a detailed account of how this process occurs see Phillip McIntyre, “The Domain of Songwriters—Towards Defining the Term ‘Song,’ ” Perfect Beat: The Pacific Journal of Research into Contemporary Music and Popular Culture 5/3, (2001): 100 –111. 11. Randall Johnson, “Editors Introduction,” in Pierre Bourdieu, Field of Cultural Production, ed. Randall Johnson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993), 5. 12. Donald Schon, The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action (New York: Basic Books, 1983), 52. 13. A detailed account of the way this song was written can be read in Phillip McIntyre, “Paul McCartney and the Creation of ‘Yesterday’: The Systems Model in Operation,” Popular Music 25/2 (2006): 201–19. 14. Paul McCartney quoted in Matt Snow, “God In Heaven What Was I On,” MOJO. London: EMAP Metro, November, 1995, 57. 15. Randall Johnson, op. cit. (1993), 5. 16. These details can found in Phillip McIntyre, “Creativity and Cultural Production: A Study of Contemporary Western Popular Music Songwriting,” Creativity Research Journal 20/1, (2008): 40–52. 17. J. Clark Jolley, “GershwinFan.com: Georges Biography,” GershwinFan.com, 2000, http://www.gershwinfan.com/biogeorge.html. 18. Paul Zollo, Songwriters on Songwriting (New York: Da Capo Press, 1997), xi. 19. Bob Barratt, “Songwriting,” in Making Music: The Essential Guide to Writing, Performing and Recording, ed. George Martin (London: Pan, 1983), 59. 20. Quoted in Peter Wicke, Rock Music: Culture, Aesthetics and Sociology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 13. 21. John Fogerty quoted in Johnnie Clott, “ ‘Moon Still Risin’: JohnFogerty/Creedence Clearwater Revival,” Concrete Press, Newcastle NSW, December 22, 1998, 20. 22. Ibid. 23. Simon Frith, “The Popular Music Industry,” in The Cambridge Companion to Pop and Rock, ed. Simon Frith, Will Straw, and John Street (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 29–30. 24. Greil Marcus, “The Beatles,” in The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock, ed. Jim Miller (New York: Random House, 1980), 185. 25. Simon Napier-Bell, Black Vinyl: White Powder (London: Ebury Press, 2002), 327. 26. Michael Fink, Inside the Music Industry: Creativity, Process and Business (New York: Schirmer Books, 1996), 28. 27. Randy Poe, Music Publishing: A Songwriter’s Guide (Cincinnati: Writer’s Digest Books, 1997), 48.

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28. Edward Samuels, The Illustrated Story of Copyright (New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2000), 248. 29. Fred Koller, How to Pitch and Promote Your Songs (New York: Allworth Press, 2001), 42. 30. Howard Becker, Art Worlds (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982), 9. 31. David Swartz, Culture and Power: The Sociology of Pierre Bourdieu (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 117. 32. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention (New York: Harper Collins, 1997), 41. 33. For a lengthy account of the music industry as field see Phillip McIntyre, “The Contemporary Popular Music Industry as Field,” in Musical In-Between-ness: Proceedings of 8th Conference of the Australia-NZ Branch of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music, ed. Denis Crowdy, Shane Homan, and Tony Mitchell (Sydney: University of Technology, 2001), 140 –54. 34. John Baheny, op. cit. (1990), vi. 35. Al Kasha and Joel Hirschborn, If They Ask You, You Can Write A Song (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1979), 18. 36. Denis McQuail, Mass Communication Theory: An Introduction (London: Sage, 1994), 213. 37. Phillip McIntyre, “The Contemporary Popular Music Industry as Field,” in Musical In-Between-ness: Proceedings of 8th Conference of the Australia-NZ Branch of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music, ed. Denis Crowdy, Shane Homan, and Tony Mitchell (Sydney: University of Technology, 2001), 150. 38. Keith Negus, Popular Music in Theory: An Introduction (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996), 62. 39. Dave Marsh, Glory Days: A Biography of Bruce Springsteen (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1987), 178–79. 40. Phillip Mcintyre, “Radio Program Directors, Music Directors and the Creation of Popular Music,” in Radio in the World: Radio Conference 2005, ed. Sianan Healy, Bruce Berryman, and David Goodman (Melbourne: RMIT Publishing, 2006), 449 – 60. 41. See http://www.paulmccartney.com. 42. Jodi Krangle, ed., The Muse’s News: An E-zine For And About Songwriters, Issue 10, September 6, 2007, http://www.musesmuse.com/musenews.html. 43. Mark Wells quoted in Phillip McIntyre, Creativity and Cultural Production: A Study of Contemporary Western Popular Music Songwriting, unpublished PhD Thesis, Sydney, Macquarie University, 2003, 220. 44. Ibid. 45. For an overview of the way audiences have been conceptualized within popular music studies see Keith Negus, Popular Music in Theory: An Introduction (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996), 7–35. 46. For a broader argument detailing the problems of seeing creativity with romantic eyes see Duncan Petrie, Creativity and Constraint in the British Film Industry (London: MacMillan, 2004) and Keith Sawyer, Explaining Creativity: The Science of Human Innovation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 47. Roy Shuker, Understanding Popular Music (London: Routledge, 1994), 99. 48. Notable exceptions are Jason Toynbee, Making Popular Music: Musicians, Creativity and Institutions (London: Arnold, 2000) and Phillip McIntyre, “Creativity and

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Cultural Production: A Study of Contemporary Western Popular Music Songwriting,” Creativity Research Journal (in press). 49. Keith Negus and Michael Pickering, Creativity, Communication and Cultural Value (London: Sage, 2004), 179. 50. Simon Frith, “The Popular Music Industry,” in The Cambridge Companion to Pop and Rock, ed. Simon Frith, Will Straw, and John Street (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 34. 51. Quoted in Joanna Demers, Steal this Music: How Intellectual Property Law Affects Musical Creativity (Athens Georgia: The University of Georgia Press, 2006), ix. 52. For an account of this argument see Keith Negus and Michael Pickering, Creativity, Communication and Cultural Value (London: Sage, 2004). 53. Margaret Boden, The Creative Mind: Myths and Mechanisms (London: Routledge, 2004), 14. 54. Robert Sternberg, ed., Handbook of Creativity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 5. 55. Margaret Boden, op. cit. (2004), 14. 56. Sigmund Freud, “The Relation of the Poet to Daydreaming,” in The Creativity Question, ed. Albert Rothenberg and Carl Hausman (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1976). 57. Phillip McIntyre, “Copyright and Creativity: Changing Paradigms and the Implications for Intellectual Property and the Music Industry,” Media International Australia incorporating Cultural Policy 123 (2007): 82–94. 58. Phillip McIntyre, “Creativity and Cultural Production: A Study of Contemporary Western Popular Music Songwriting,” Creativity Research Journal 20/1, (2008): 40 –52. 59. For example, see Vera Zolberg, Constructing a Sociology of the Arts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Jack Stillinger, Multiple Authorship and the Myth of Solitary Genius (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991); Janet Wolff, The Social Production of Art (London: MacMillan, 1993); and Michael Howe, Genius Explained (London: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 60. Howard Becker, Art Worlds (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982); Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977); Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1990); Pierre Bourdieu, Field of Cultural Production (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993); and Pierre Bourdieu, The Rules of Art: Genesis and Structure of the Literary Field (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1996). 61. Rob Pope, Creativity: Theory, History, Practice (New York: Routledge, 2005). 62. See Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” in Image, Music, Text (New York: Noonday Press, 1977) and Michel Foucault, “What is an Author” in Textual Strategies: Perspectives in Post-Structural Criticism, ed. J. V. Harare (New York: Cornell University Press, 1979). 63. Duncan Petrie, op. cit. (1991) and Keith Negus and Michael Pickering, op. cit. (2004). 64. This research has been variously reviewed by Vera Zolberg. See Vera Zolberg, Constructing a Sociology of the Arts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Carlisle Bergquist, “A Comparative View of Creativity Theories: Psychoanalytic, Behaviouristic and Humanistic,” Vantage Quest, http://www.vantagequest.org/trees/

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comparative.htm; Robert Sternberg, Handbook of Creativity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); Mark Runco and Stephen Pritzker, Encyclopedia of Creativity (San Diego: Academic Press, 1999); and Keith Sawyer, Explaining Creativity: The Science of Human Innovation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 65. Peter Wicke, Rock Music: Culture, Aesthetics and Sociology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 15–16. 66. For elaborations of the systems model see Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, “Society, Culture and Person: A Systems View of Creativity,” in The Nature of Creativity: Contemporary Psychological Perspectives, ed. by Robert Sternberg (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 325–39; Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention (New York: Harper Collins, 1997); and Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, “Implications of a Systems Perspective for the Study of Creativity,” in Handbook of Creativity, ed. by Robert Sternberg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 313–35. 67. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, op. cit. (1999), 315. 68. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, op. cit. (1988), 329. 69. Keith Negus, op. cit. (1996), 37.

chapter 2

The Devaluation of Recorded Music: A New Business Model for the Music Industry Richard Strasser

The release of a new album is usually heralded with much fanfare and enjoyment for those involved in the creation, manufacturing, and sale of the compact disc (CD). However, when the iconic artist Prince released his album Planet Earth, the music industry was not in a celebratory mood. Instead of releasing the album through traditional retail channels, Prince, on July 15, 2007, in a deal believed to have earned him $2 million, released the album through The Mail on Sunday newspaper.1 By bypassing retailers and delivering a CD through the newspaper, Prince’s spokesperson stated that the artist’s “only aim is to get music (directly) to those that want to hear it.”2 This audacious move by Prince infuriated retailers who say that such “giveaways” reinforce that recorded music has no intrinsic value.3 In a keynote speech at the New Music Conference in London, Entertainment Retailers Association of UK Vice-Chairman Paul Quirk stated that, “The Artist formerly known as Prince should know that with behaviour like this he will soon be the Artist Formerly Available in Record Stores.”4 He went on to state that the British Music industry should “not believe the hype about downloads . . . music retailing is currently more than 90% physical and less than 10% digital, the way people talk you would conclude the percentages were reversed.”5 However, according to Nielsen SoundScan data, CD sales recently fell 19 percent compared with the same period from the previous year.6 Data from 2006 sales indicate that physical sales are down by 35.26 percent to 13,880,000, while digital sales have more than doubled to 53,018,000, an increase of 100.49

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percent from the previous year.7 A report by the research group Berg Insight suggests that digital “music sales will overtake physical sales in Western Europe by 2011.”8 These figures seem to suggest that the traditional recording industry is slowly giving way to the digitization of music content. However, what is not clear is what business model will succeed the current system, as multiple actors have entered the music industry and are trying to carve out a niche in this lucrative field. Furthermore, the very concept of music as a business is being tested as Michael Bracy, policy director of the Future Music Coalition, questions, “How do you ‘monetize’ the digital music industry?”9 In fact, the same Nielsen SoundScan data indicates that “while more people are legitimately buying music online, 10 times as many songs are still downloaded for free.”10 To answer these questions and examine the new directions digital music is taking, it’s important to first understand the traditional business model and then explore how the digitization of music is opening new avenues in the music industry. THE TRADITIONAL RECORDING BUSINESS MODEL The traditional business model for the recording industry has been in effect for well over 50 years. Each actor within this value chain is part of a sequential system that adds value to process as product passes from creators to the consumer. At the apex of this system are content creators who straddle both the recording and publishing industries. This includes artists, composers, performers, and to a lesser extent artist and repertoire (A&R) departments of record labels. Apart from acquiring new and promising artists to long-term exclusive contracts, A&R entails the development of repertoire as well as the overseeing of production and creation of an artist’s image. The goal of content creators is the recording and production of CDs. To achieve this, content creators enter into exclusive contracts with record companies who translate artistic productions into consumer products. To encourage content creators, labels finance them through advance payments while retaining control of the manufacturing and sale of the recording. To capitalize on economies of scale, most companies have their own production plants. The big-four record labels—EMI, Warner Music, Universal Music, and Sony BMG—leverage global CD pressing facilities to accomplish worldwide economies of scale. Because consumers generally do not purchase unfamiliar music, airtime on the radio and other means of exposure for a particular artist or band is essential. Labels have well-established relationships with traditional media channels such as press, radio, and TV stations. As with distribution, major record labels (majors) have a global network of branch offices that can handle sales, distribution, and marketing in any desired market. Distribution companies usually work toward large retailers, such as Best Buy and Wal-Mart, who

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purchase a high volume of albums from wholesalers. This distribution channel favors artists with a well-established audience (i.e., stars) while disadvantaging marginal artists (niche performers) who find it hard to be distributed in the market.11 Various economic factors influence the traditional physical-only distribution scheme. Demand factors such as available leisure time, the demand for leisure, related increases in disposable household income, and demographic profiles have shaped the entertainment industry from the consumer perspective.12 Supply-side factors have ensured a stable system that guarantees profits for the recording industry for several decades. These factors have favored large entertainment conglomerates by providing barriers to entry; allowing for control, development, and marketing of new content; and stabilizing industry structures and segments, especially distribution systems. Driving both of these economic factors is the creation of technology and new formats. New music formats and playback technologies have been important in the development of new musical genres (e.g., the synthesizer and art rock) and have led the music industry out of temporary setbacks (such as in the late ’70s and early ’80s) and into new growth phases.13 However, to many in the recording industry, recent technologies have been highly disruptive to existing music markets and well-established distribution mechanisms.14 At the heart of this disruption has been the creation of peer-to-peer (P2P) file sharing. P2P REVOLUTION The origins of P2P file sharing began well before the advent of Napster and other P2P sites. In 1986, Sony introduced the Digital Audio Tape (DAT), a revolutionary system that allowed for digital recording and “perfect” reproduction of the master recording. Due to copyright problems, electronic firms delayed development of consumer products, and DAT remained a highpriced professional medium. In 1990, Sony and Phillips, the creators of the CD player, produced the standard for the Recordable CD-ROM (CD-R). Although copying of recorded music or recording of radio broadcasts has been possible since the availability of cassettes and associated players/recorders, the digital format enabled the creation of perfect, identical copies on a large scale, either for private use or for organized music piracy. The International Federation of the Phonographic Industry (IFPI) reported that total sales of pirated media was worth U.S. $4.6 billion in 2003 (i.e., pirate sales accounted for 15% of the legitimate music market) and that in developing country markets such as Brazil, China, and Mexico, physical media piracy levels are over 50 percent.15 Although the physical manufacturing of pirated CDs and DVDs has created significant problems to the recording industry, both from an economic and intellectual property rights perspective, the introduction of online piracy has presented even greater challenges to the recording industry.

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In the past, systems for sharing files and information between computers was extremely limited by computer processing speed and the long time frame associated with downloading music files. The scenario changed dramatically in 1999 with the development of the file-sharing company Napster. Napster operated on a centralized server that monitored which files were available at any given time. Proprietors of Napster could determine which files were being made available by their consumers. Although the company posted a disclaimer on its Web site, stating that illegal use of the network was not permitted, it did not enforce this ruling. By 2001, Napster had a daily average of 1.57 million simultaneous users and 60 million daily users worldwide.16 Ultimately, a group of record labels whose works were being pirated on the Napster network shut down the company. The case against Napster was based primarily on the fact that the company had not only the ability to monitor which files where shared but had the power to prevent copyrighted works from being pirated. This void was soon filled by imitators such as Audiogalaxy, Morpheus, Gnutella, KaZaA, and more recently, BitTorrent, eDonkey, and Warez. These file-sharing networks developed a decentralized system where the network proprietor did not maintain a centralized database but rather distributed an index of information among user computers. Grokster consisted of a series of user networks, known as supernodes, that held and maintained an index of works. As with Napster, many of these filesharing companies were successfully sued and terminated by entertainment companies and their representatives. Yet, early attempts by the major record labels to establish an online presence to counter the success of the file-sharing networks failed due to the lack of user friendliness and a commercially viable business model to compete with free downloading. Complicated user interfaces, comparatively high up-front costs imposed by monthly subscription fees, and the limited size of song catalogs, especially across the label divide, did not convince consumers to embrace label-owned companies such as MusicNet and PressPlay. Furthermore, underdeveloped digital rights management (DRM) schemes only fed the online music community with content to be transmitted on file-sharing sites.17 Yet, it is these illegal file-sharing companies that have become the backbone for the distribution of legitimate music content. In principle, file sharing is an innovative technology that has increasingly useful application in the music industry and several nontraditional music sectors, such as communication (voice over the Internet services such as Skype, on-demand streaming audio/video or other media push services such as Redswoosh), service industries (Linux’s Lindows, which offers software via P2P networks),18 and organizations that share information, such as academia and different government agencies.19 While the first download offers were available from 2001 (MusicNet and Pressplay were launched in December 2001), the breakthrough for online

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music retailing occurred in 2003. In this year, music labels gave permission to online companies to distribute substantial amounts of products online according to license terms in return for royalty payments.20 With the general commercial acceptance of P2P systems and the growing ability for users to have access to music over broadband, companies began developing a variety of e-business models for the music industry. Currently, there are four different configurations for the delivery of music content over the Internet. Two models are structured on the way music is accessed: either via streaming or downloading. The other structures are based on business models that provide the consumer with the ability to purchase or “lease” individual songs, the socalled subscription or “a la carte” models. It is the “a la carte” model used by companies such as iTunes that is currently driving online sales and the comeback of the single format. With the “a la carte” method, music is copied to the user’s hard drive against a payment, allowing the user to subsequently listen to the content without being connected to the Internet. In this model the consumer acquires the music permanently (full sale), but downloaded tracks usually come with some restrictions on usage. DRM technology is designed to control use of digital media by preventing access, copying, or conversion of files to other devices. The iTunes store makes use of FairPlay DRM technology. FairPlay is built into Apple’s QuickTime, a multimedia framework for which the current range of devices includes the iPod, iPhone, and the iTunes Store.21 The success of the “a la Carte” model can be attributed to consumers’ desire to “own” purchased music and the relative ease of application. This purchasing method is linked to an older demographic who have been conditioned to the traditional physical music retail format and are now reconfiguring their music collections. However, when downloading, consumers chose to overwhelmingly (85% of the time) download only one track from an album rather than purchasing the full album.22 Frequently cited figures indicate the continued growth of online purchasing. According to Natalie Kerris, a spokeswoman for Apple, iTunes had sold more than 1.5 billion songs three years after its inception, making it the fourth largest music retailer in the United States.23 A report by SoundScan stated there were 140.9 million legal downloads in the first half of 2004, compared to only 19 million for the last half of 2003.24 In 2006, a report by ResearchandMarketing indicated that annual U.S. online digital music sales were estimated to be $1.1 billion.25 By 2008, iTunes accounted for 30 percent of all U.S. music sales, making it the largest U.S. music retailer.26 Although “a la Carte” downloading is still the preferred method of purchasing digital music, streaming music is becoming a viable alternative. Streaming services allow visitors to hear music in real time without downloading the file to the consumer’s local hard drive. Consumers do not take ownership of the streamed songs but have the ability to scan and explore vast collections. This has led to the development of streaming subscription models that give

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subscribers access to catalogs of music content for a monthly fee. Companies such as RealNetworks’ Rhapsody and Napster provide the consumer with a large volume of music for a monthly fee. On November 2003, 3.2 million Americans visited Napster.com, which was relaunched as a paid online music service in late October 2003. In comparison, Apple’s iTunes, drew 2.7 million visitors in November 2003.27 By March 2007, Napster expected revenues to be more than $28 million with more than 830,000 subscribers making it the number one download store.28 The subscription model is increasingly reliant on advertisement revenue, rather than recording label funding. This requires companies to be able to obtain a high number of subscribers to be financially viable. While subscription models provide the online consumer with large catalogs, portable music systems allow for the portable access of subscriptions. Using Microsoft’s Janus DRM, companies such as Napster offer consumers the ability to enjoy large collections of music not only on their PCs but on their portable devices as well. If the consumer does not pay his/her monthly subscription, the music is cancelled. Usually the number of copies that can be made is limited through DRM technologies. When this limit is reached (sometimes three but often more copies) the song can no longer be downloaded to further devices or copied. The ability to transfer content between portable devices is limited by format and DRM technology employed by the online music service. (i.e., with Open MG/Magic Gate in the case of Sony Connect). A variation on the music subscription format is streaming radio. This system gives consumers access to a variety of genre-specific radio streams for a specified monthly fee. Streaming radio is often bundled with other subscription packages offered by a music company. Finally, a relatively new form of paid serves is subscription file sharing. Unlike previous P2P networks, these systems only allow file sharing to take place between paying subscribers or between purchased songs. Because the music is transmitted through DRM systems, the sampled works can be controlled, and ownership is limited.29 In 2004, the online music market accounted for a small share of total music sales revenues (global sales equaled approximately 1–2%).30 By 2007, global digital music sales were estimated at approximately U.S. $2.9 billion, a roughly 40 percent increase over 2006. This accounted for an estimated 15 percent of the global music market, up from 11 percent in 2006 and zero in 2003. U.S. online sales now account for 30 percent of all revenues.31 The digital music industry is characterized by an insatiable demand for new material supplied by a plethora of new players. In the medium term, overall demand for music may increase through digital distribution and other new forms of music consumption. With the general increase in the number of people who are accessing music via the Internet, there are several players—notably from the nonmusic sector—who are becoming involved

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in online music distribution. Companies such as Microsoft, Cola-Cola, Wal-Mart, and different Internet Service Providers (ISPs) are entering the arena. This rapid surge in players has led many industry commentators to predict increased competition, larger marketing budgets, and consolidation.32 A key requisite for the development of efficient online music delivery is competitive and widespread access to broadband infrastructure. The delivery of online content also necessitates new technologies and an environment that facilitates the creation, acquisition, management, and delivery of content. Secure payment systems are essential for the functioning of a viable business environment. Moreover, a diversity of interoperable standards and hardware are likely to prove most beneficial to competition and efficient online content markets. These demands have opened the way for a plethora of alternative business models and a vast array of companies interested in accessing the lucrative music business. ALTERNATIVE BUSINESS MODELS AND ACTORS Many in the music industry have viewed the proliferation of broadband connectivity to the average PC user as a disruptive technology. However, the development of greater connectivity has opened the way for improved revenue streams and opportunities for music consumption. High-speed connections have allowed consumers to download music rapidly, thus bypassing traditional methods for enjoying music (including unauthorized file sharing). Many of these new entities include players that have long had sustainable links to the music industry, such as consumer electronic manufacturers, software and hardware companies, and DRM firms. Service providers who manage, host, and secure content are going to have to become a new phenomenon in the music industry, especially with the potential growth expected in new broadband technology. Most of these alternative companies make use of a hybrid file-sharing system similar to the Napster model, which relies on users connecting to other nodes within the immediate vicinity to request files. These systems are very popular for various reasons, most notably the ease of use, strong search capabilities, and the ability to download large amounts of data in a convenient fashion. Depending on the nature of the players, very different motives drive their online music activity. This has lead to new co-operations within the music industry as players try to integrate upwards or downwards along the recording industry value chain. Yet, the range of new retail interfaces available to the consumer is considerable, including: online music stores of the major recording labels, third-party online music stores (e.g., Apple, Napster), ISPs and content portals, mobile content suppliers, software and hardware companies (Apple, Dell, etc.), online retailers (Wal-Mart, Amazon, etc), and DRM providers (Microsoft, Real Networks). Most notably companies that traditionally

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have had no relationship to the entertainment industry have began to be actively involved in the music business. Cell phone and communications companies (Sprint, AT&T, etc.), consumer brands (Coca-Cola), physical retailers (systems set up in places such as Starbucks that permit music downloading by customers), and even credit card companies (American Express) are looking to the music industry as an ancillary income generator. M-COMMERCE Technologies often develop in tandem with new markets. This has certainly been the case with the music industry and mobile communications sector. The growth of the global system for mobile communication (GSM) has been important for the development of mobile commerce (m-commerce).33 M-commerce systems involve the direct transfer of music to mobile devices such as cell phones, PDAs, and other handheld devices. The m-commerce market is built on certain value propositions such as mobility, availability, and ubiquity (interconnectivity and roaming). In most cases, music is accessible to the user via a specific player (music jukebox) tied to a particular software program or a type of hardware to play the music (PC, portable device, mobile handset). Added to the development of devices has been the bundling of music content to various devices. For Sony’s new Walkman phone, the company had preinstalled new unreleased tracks by Robbie Williams.34 Wireless operators are also selling full-song downloads. Sprint recently began selling full tracks that subscribers can download to their phones, with Verizon (V Cast) and AT&T expected to open similar services in mid 2008. Sprint’s service has a dual-delivery feature that sends one version of the purchased song to the mobile phone and another version to the PC.35 The need for converged products in digital audio players independently from other electronic devices has meant the demise of the Walkman and portable radio. An essential reason for the creation of independent devices is the need for portability (carry-on functionality while jogging, etc.) not provided by devices such as the laptop. The mobile phone has been the most technically feasible and acceptable single carry-on device to consumers. Other devices that offer audio codec as a secondary feature are smart handheld devices and handheld gaming consoles. Whether consumers will replace dedicated media players with converged devices such as mobile phones, personal digital assistants (PDAs), or combined camera/media players is still to be seen. Currently, connection speeds, processing power, battery limitations, and screen size make it very difficult for the portable phone to replace digital audio players or other content devices.36 Originally phones used as tools for downloading content, apart from small files such as ringtones, were restricted to countries such as Japan and Korea.37 Yet, with the development of the iPhone in 2007, customers are able to download content via Bluetooth and telecommunication

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networks. With improving audio compression technology, the iPhone is positioning itself as an important player in the music industry. Within the first 30 hours of the iPhone’s release, Apple sold over 30,000 units.38 Apple expected to sell its 1 millionth iPhone by the quarter ending in September 2007. However, due to overwhelming demand, Apple achieved this goal by the beginning of September of that year.39 In contrast, it took the company seven quarters to sell its 1 millionth iPod. Apple says that it’s still on track to meet the goal spelled out by CEO Steve Jobs to sell 10 million iPhones by 2008.40 Development in m-commerce will expand rapidly with cheaper and faster wireless connectivity via DSL Internet access and improvements in 3G networks. While the benefits of technology convergence are experienced in the home, in the workplace, and on the move, their rapid adoption raises problems with the compliance of such products, both in terms of regulation and cost, especially in comparison with single-purpose products. One of the most important consequences of the blurring of technology borders is the increasing globalization of services. This move calls for standardization and interoperability between networks and services across the globe. Currently, there are no international agencies to allow for the seamless transition of such technology. Apple must negotiate with individual service providers in each country to sell the iPhone, thereby limiting the range of such units and their overall adoption in the market. SOFTWARE COMPANIES A recent entrant into the music industry has been software companies, who have used digital music offerings to power different revenue streams. Entering the music industry is an attractive proposition for software companies because selling low-margin digital downloads and subscription services helps to encourage widespread software usage and increases the importance of specific audio and video formats. Two of the largest software companies, Microsoft and Real Networks, integrated to produce the MSN Music Store. The launch of the MSN Music Store serves several business goals for Microsoft. First, the store helped to increase the importance of the Windows Media Player 10 jukebox, which includes Windows Media DRM. Secondly, all tracks within the store are encoded using the Microsoft proprietary WMA codec, helping to further expand the format’s usage. Thirdly, music helps leverage and increase the Internet audience on their MSN Network service, Microsoft Internet portal. Finally, the move was an important component of Microsoft’s plans to create the digital living room, expected by the company to be a major growth area. The MSN Music Store is available both as a Web-based experience and as part of the Windows Media Player 10. Furthermore, it is an integral component of the Windows XP Media Center Edition 2005. Attracting users to the jukebox is a critical factor in the digital delivery of

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music, but it also allows Microsoft opportunities to control new media revenue streams (Video-on-Demand or Pay-Per-View Movies, live DRM to host concerts, sports events). To increase the perceived value of the Windows Media Player 10 jukebox, Microsoft has created a “Digital Media Mall,” with a host of other digital music services, including Napster, Puretracks, WalMart, Virgin, and CinemaNow (for movies), aggregated into one application. As with Apple’s integration of music service and hardware via iTunes and the iPod, Microsoft has developed synergies between Windows Media Player 10 and Zune. The new Microsoft DRM system called Janus will allow music-service subscribers to listen to rented music on portable devices. Regulatory agencies in both the United States and the European Union have recently urged Microsoft to debundle the Windows Media Player 10 from its overall operating system.41 On February 28, 2008, the European Commission fined Microsoft $ 899 million (U.S. $1.3 billion) for failure to honor the 2004 antitrust ruling against it.42 Furthermore, in the wake of a landmark $761 million legal settlement of its lawsuit against Microsoft, RealNetwork’s Rhapsody will be integrated into Microsoft’s MSN search, instant messaging, and music store services.43 In effect, Rhapsody will become MSN’s default subscription music service, thereby killing Microsoft’s ambitions of developing its own service. INTERNET SERVICE PROVIDERS Another nontraditional entertainment sector to enter the music industry has been Internet Service Providers (ISPs) and Web portals. In many cases there currently exists a “blurring of boundaries” between content providers, broadcasters, and telecommunication service providers. In the ever-changing music environment, network operators are looking at business models that generate revenue, especially with the loss of traditional outlets such as fixedline telephone systems. Furthermore, ISPs have begun delivering bundled services in order to combat competition and sustain customer bases. This has taken the form of video delivery, greater broadband capability, and better document storage and backup abilities. It is expected that licensed material will drive subscriber numbers, especially with premium broadband packages that offer the end-customer an “all you can eat” content service. The ISPs are also looking at the current range of online music purchasing processes, such as pay-per-track services, digital radio (e.g., Radio@AOL), and music TV. For many years, ISPs have been entering into a series of commercial relationships with content aggregators and content owners to offer authorized material. The ISPs and Web portals have one significant advantage over many other players in the online music business: a large Internet audience. According to an OECD report, computer and Internet-related sites such as Yahoo! and MSN Networks have captured around 40 percent of all Internet visits

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with entertainment products.44 The ability of ISPs to position themselves as distributors of music depends on partnerships formed with content generators and their ability to share in the revenue streams generated. Currently, Verizon Online DSL, in conjunction with MSN premium, gives customers preferred access to Rhapsody, allowing them the opportunity to listen to music and radio services.45 Recently, hostilities between content generators and ISPs have heated up with the introduction of the Communications, Promotion, and Enhancement Act (COPE) of 2006. As part of a major overhaul of the Communications Act of 1996, the COPE Act includes network neutrality provisions and an amendment that prohibits service tiering. The bill, which passed the House but is currently stalled in the Senate, would spell out broadband Internet consumer rights but without nondiscrimination language urged by net neutrality advocates such as Google, Yahoo!, and eBay, who want unfettered access to the net.46 The Justice Department has sent comments to the FCC warning that “regulators should be careful not to impose regulations that could limit consumer choice and investment in broadband facilities.”47 Network operators such as AT&T and Verizon, as well as cable companies such as Comcast, warn that a restrictive bill will limit the development of high-bandwidth services and reduce income streams for future developments by the network operators.48 To capture music content, ISPs are reliant on numerous music intermediaries that provide rights clearance, hosting and delivery of content, and billing infrastructure. White label music services have filled this void by handling aspects related to a digital music store such as capturing, storing, and retrieving music content. The ISPs are able to obtain clearance rights for music content without the need to negotiate with content providers. Companies such as Loudeye/OD2 and MusicNet also provide DRM technology, usage reporting, digital music royalty settlements, and other services. Both Loudeye/OD2 and MusicNet serve a diverse range of clients including, Amazon, AT&T Wireless, Barnes & Noble, Gibson Audio, House of Blues, and MyCokeMusic.com. Up until it closed operations on January 19, 2007, BitPass offered solutions that included payment processing, customer service transactions, and promotions management for the delivery of content. Although ISPs are slowly entering the music industry, many in the music industry have not welcomed their presence, especially in regards to copyright infringement. The music industry and its representatives have attempted to hold ISPs liable not only for tolerating illegal P2P traffic but for actually facilitating it. Furthermore, the music industry contends that ISPs have no intrinsic interest in limiting infringer use, as greater broadband use increases ISP subscriber numbers and generates greater advertising income. The music industry has sued ISPs to reveal the names and addresses of suspected music copyright infringers, but ISPs have refuted these allegations and pointed to the technological neutrality of their broadband technology. Furthermore,

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ISPs contend that monitoring and enforcing compliance of copyright imposes significant costs. This was the argument of the ISP Charter Communications in response to RIAA subpoena to reveal the names and addresses of its subscribers.49 The subpoena process adopted by the music industry against ISPs has been examined by courts, especially in a series of legal actions involving the RIAA and Verizon Communications. The U.S. Court of Appeals ruled that subpoenas could not be issued against an ISP that does not store copyrighted material on its computer servers. If the RIAA wished to obtain the identities of users suspected of illegal file sharing, the RIAA would need to file civil law suits against such individuals.50 In a final effort to obtain this information from the ISPs, the RIAA appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court. Yet, in October 2004, the U.S. Supreme Court rejected to hear an appeal by the RIAA, thereby ending its litigation of the ISP industry.51 Furthermore, the U.S. Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) of 1998 established a scheme that is designed to limit ISP’s liability for copyright infringement, provided they meet certain requirements. SEARCH ENGINES Search engines, such as Google, Yahoo!, Ask.com, and Live Search, have traditionally functioned as information retrieval companies designed to search for data on the World Wide Web. As with other technology companies, search engines have began to offer their customers a range of music products and services. Yahoo! has several tools available to its clients, including the ability to create mashups via Application Programming Interfaces (APIs) at their Web sites. Mashups are Web applications that combine data from several sources into a new integrated system. YouTunes is a mashup that finds YouTube videos for the top 10 songs at iTunes. The mashup will take the iTunes data and run a search at YouTube for all video titles that match the song titles listed sending it to a consumer’s computer as a clean list.52 Yahoo!’s Pipes works in a similar fashion to YouTunes but collects data from RSS feeds. The site is currently in beta and due for full commercial release within the next year. Apart from offering Web applications, search engines are beginning to act as online retailers. The recent acquisition of MusicMatch by Yahoo!—an online retailer and software firm—for U.S. $160 million sheds light on the dynamic state of the music industry on this market.53 Yahoo!’s free music portal is already completely ad supported and offers Internet radio, music videos, and music news. In 2005, Yahoo! developed the Music Unlimited subscription fee music site as an attempt to undercut competitors such as Rhapsody and Napster and integrate the service with other Yahoo! products.54 The site boasted over 1 million songs encoded as WMA files protected by a DRM scheme similar to Napster and Rhapsody (music will only play on the PC they reside on).55 On February 4, 2008, Yahoo! announced that

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Rhapsody would be the exclusive on-demand service for Yahoo!, replacing Music Unlimited.56 This action would leave three online music subscription companies: Rhapsody, Napster, and Microsoft’s Zune Marketplace, which, in 2008, attempted a hostile takeover of Yahoo!. However, at the time of writing, Microsoft’s $44.6 billion offer for Yahoo! had still not been accepted. A combination of the two companies’ Internet efforts would create a very strong competitor against Google, which currently accounts for 54 percent of all online searches in the United States compared to Yahoo!’s 22 percent and Microsoft’s 10 percent. Although Yahoo! and Microsoft have a long history of partnerships, the synthesis of the array of services, ranging from entertainment to instant messaging, will be difficult to combine, even with the projected revenues from online advertising. HARDWARE MANUFACTURERS The digital music industry has had a profound influence on the PC and electronics industry. Currently, the entertainment market is considered a high-growth market, and the electronics industry is seeing a growing global market for digital consumer appliances both for consumer electronics manufacturers and PC vendors (including chip vendors). Recently, several hardware manufacturers have shown an interest in developing ties to music content providers. Hardware manufacturers such as Samsung, Dell, Sony, and Apple are generating online music offerings (i.e., hardware-Integrated Services) to sell more of their music players. Digital music and the rise of portable audio players is also redefining the boundaries between the somewhat traditionally separate PC, software, mobile handset, content, and consumer electronics sector, which are now competing head-on for the sales of portable audio devices. As the digital music value chain becomes more integrated, interdependency between the individual players and device manufacturers is occurring. (e.g., cooperation between device manufacturers, music services, and software providers) The backbone of the digital music industry has been the portable audio player. Great consumer acceptance, falling prices (in particular for flash memory), rising capacities, and more diverse offerings with multiple storage capacities has increased the number of digital devices available.57 Analysts forecast that this category will continue to grow while the audio consumer electronic market, especially the CD market, will decline. The portable mp3 player category has in terms of unit sales more than doubled in 2004 to over 6.9 million units, and dollar sales have nearly tripled in revenue to U.S. $1.2 billion, compared to figures from 2003 and more than $80 million in 2000.58 According to the Consumer Electronics Association (CEA) factory-level mp3 player sales rose 31 percent with 2006 revenue calculated at U.S. $5.56 billion. The mp3 market has enjoyed a double percentage gain since 1998.59 Furthermore, a 2006 study by Ipsos research found

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that one in five Americans aged 12 and older owned an mp3 player. The study indicated that over half of teens (54%) own an mp3 player, averaging 16 hours of use per week.60 CONSUMERS AS CREATORS OF MUSIC CONTENT In “The Futurists,” Alvin Toffler notes that “the emergence of the service society has coincided with extended consumer self-service.”61 For Toffler, the notion of a passive consumer will be exchanged in the future with consumers that are part of the value-chain as coproducers or “prosumers” (producerconsumers). For many analysts, customers today “are concerned about control over available service features and content displayed to them.”62 The change precipitated by digital technologies and an evolution of consumer consumption habits has had a persistent and profound effect on the online music industry. “Innovation and change lead to an unfreezing of established relationships, expectation and roles.”63 The challenge for suppliers is to manage the transformation process, that is, to (gradually) explore new forms of interaction and models of collaboration that involve customers in the process and to shape the relationship with them.64 Therefore, future customer relations in the online community will be built on a triangulation between value propositions and product characteristics, business transaction attributes, and attributes within a computer-mediated environment. Increasingly, companies are looking to incorporate social and business systems that are enmeshed with business output, while adding value and control for customers.65 For current consumers, especially younger demographics, this translates in online entities that not only supply music content but value-added services, such as chat groups, streamed events, and the ability to burn CDs or personalized playlists of digital singles. This means greater choice and flexibility, with consumers able to enjoy music on their terms (i.e., no need to pay for full albums when only a few songs are desired). Seemingly, many various forms of P2P services and online music stores are able to sustain a greater breadth of music types, thus potentially better satisfying consumer demand and niche markets. Moreover, the way consumers find and buy music is slowly gravitating away from traditional online methods to new systems, maybe leading to more music genres and a lesser focus on a few music stars. SOCIAL NETWORKS AS CONTENT CREATORS The impact of the online medium on network users (i.e., interactivity and participation) and diversity of material made omnipresent by the availability of online technologies opens up possibilities for new content created by network users. Apart from having ubiquitous access to music, users have

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become important participants in the chain of content creation, marketing, and distribution. In the context of file-sharing networks that allow the transfer of owned or authorized files, users (e.g., amateur artists) can create their own music and share it with others. This kind of exchange is unique to file sharing in comparison to other online music distribution or traditional music business models. To date, the take-up of this has been limited, and opinions vary as to the scale of its long-term impact. Online social networks occur in many different venues, from those that offer very little interaction, such as e-mail lists and Usenet newsgroups, to realtime online-chat systems and multiuser domains (MUDs). Users can share information, make files available, contribute to projects, or transfer files.66 Consumer-to-consumer music recommendation tools allow consumers to share musical tastes in a collaborative forum. These forums take many forms, from the “collaborative filtering” technique adopted by Amazon for recommending products to service-tied systems, such as iMix on iTunes Music Store or Rhapsody’s Playlist Central tool, which allow consumers to purchase or access the songs in the playlists directly.67 However, there is a growing number of music consumers, especially a younger generation, who aren’t accessing music from subscription or “a la carte” services. Blogging and podcasting allows users to link or post content on the Internet for other people to download or post comments. Similarly, private group sharing sites, such as iMeem and Grouper, enable users to exchange music files. According to a report issued by the Pew Internet & American Life Project, 55 percent of American children aged 12–17 claim to visit social networking sites such as MySpace.68 In each of these venues, individuals identify with the values, conventions, and practices of the online group. Researchers show that social interactions shape participants’ opinions, decisions, and relationships and take up considerably high amounts of their time.69 This online interaction has direct consequences on individuals’ interaction with family, friends, and established media outlets.70 Social network sites have been an important addition to the online environment. Most are based on social communities of people who share interests and activities. Users interact through a series of tools, including messaging, e-mail, blogs, file sharing, and discussion groups. On July 19, 2005, Fox News Corporation bought MySpace for $580 million.71 As a fully functional social network site, individuals are able to download music content and share it with their social community. Bands such as Babyshambles and the Arctic Monkeys built fan bases rapidly by posting their music on their Web sites and allowing people to swap mp3s, record performances, and share content through MySpace and other social networks. Since MySpace’s launch in 2003, an estimated 3 million artists have used the site to share information, post tour dates, and exchange music with fans.72 With 12 million unique visitors per month, the site has attracted prominent bands, such as the Black Eyed Peas,

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R.E.M., and Nine Inch Nails.73 In September 2006, MySpace began selling music tracks using an open source standard. The company said they were bypassing DRM content so that MySpace content would be compatible with the iPod.74 The sale of music content encouraged MySpace to develop other music outlets. In an effort to accommodate artists, the company developed a specific MySpace profile for musicians. Unlike traditional MySpace profiles, artists can upload up to four mp3 songs that users can listen to for free. Some bands allow fans to download some sample tracks as mp3s or direct them to third-party sites for purchase. A recent development has been the collaboration between Snocap, a Web-based music distributor, and MySpace to create a digital downloading store called Mypurchase.75 The new service will allow bands to sell music through their MySpace profile directly to fans. Consumers will be able to buy, download, and play files on multiple devices, such as iPods and Microsoft’s Zune. What makes this service different from current MySpace offerings is that artists can set the price of the downloads. What is not yet known about Mypurchase is the distribution fee MySpace intends to charge artists. Chief executive Rusty Rueff told Reuters that the “small” distribution fee was not yet “fixed.”76 Finally, MySpace has leveraged the success of social networking to develop ancillary products and services within the music industry. On October 16, 2007, MySpace launched its first branded music tour. Beginning at the Show-Box in Seattle, the All-Ages MySpace Music Tour stopped off in more than 30 venues through Thanksgiving weekend in Las Vegas.77 Another popular social network system is the blog. Blogs are online journals where individuals and groups provide commentary or news on a particular subject. Musicblogs or mp3blogs are blogs on which the creator or fans make music available for downloading. Often, blogs are used to promote new bands or releases of established artists and have found support from the major record labels. However, in this interaction labels want to control how and to whom the material is posted.78 Music companies are concerned that this new online forum may provide listeners with an alternative source of illegally obtained and streamed music content. However, some labels have begun to realize the potential of blogs as an important promotional vehicle. In August 2004, Warner Music Group began to ask mp3 blogs to post music on their sites.79 Many blogs decided against posting the Warner files because it would be seen by their audience as a paid endorsement of a major label. In response to the music industry concerns about music piracy on mp3 blogs and to tap a vast audience and possible revenues, many blogs have redesigned themselves to be legitimate digital music labels. The mp3 Music Blog Earvolution established Earvolution Records to sell music directly from its blog and other digital retail outlets. Earvolution collaborated with Tunecore, a leading flat-fee independent distributor, to deliver music to iTunes, Rhapsody, Napster, and other digital retail outlets.80 The flexibility of this arrangement is perfect

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for a growing label such as Earvolution and a natural extension of a nascent music venture that has a dedicated clientele. The viral nature of blogs has influenced other blogs to develop sustainable revenue streams. GBox provides users a bit of software code, known as a widget, that are embedded on their blogs. This code allows users to broadcast wishlists of songs to friends and family members within their blog, in hopes of getting them as gifts. With the support of two major labels (Universal and Sony/BMG) the company hopes to turn bloggers from passive commentators to salespeople.81 CONCLUSION Online music has proven to be a major force for the expansion of the music industry for the near future. The development of a multitude of transmission models, from a la carte downloading to streaming to social networks, continues as the market for music expands. Ensuring artistic creation in this environment is dependent on the maintenance of effective copyright protection, payment systems, and the reduction of illegal online piracy. The online music market has begun to diverge with small and innovative players competing with well-established music companies. However, for all parties to succeed in this market there are several key requisites for the creation of an efficient and competitive online music industry. Key to the delivery of music content is access to a competitive and widespread broadband infrastructure; acquisition management and secure payment systems that protect the consumer and provide revenue to both the content creator and intermediaries; and, government agencies that address Internet piracy on a global basis. From a business perspective, many companies have managed to occupy large parts of the online value chain. In the case of Sony and Apple, close to perfect vertical integration has been reached. Apple does not own a catalog but encodes in proprietary AAC format, uses proprietary FairPlay DRM technology, and has its own music store (iTunes) and its own hardware devices (iPod and iPhone). Sony owns its own content and has the ATRAC3 music codec, the SonicStage jukebox software, the Sony Open Magic Gate DRM system, and its range of Sony Network Walkmen and other portable devices. For other online music providers, the music e-commerce environment is often a result of a large number of alliances, especially during a company’s startup stage. For example, Wal-Mart acts as a standard retailer while sourcing in everything from music content, online music store technology, and codec and DRM standards from other companies. Yet, friction between the content industry and technology providers is impeding the development of new technologies. Disagreements between the music industry (labels, collecting societies, and authors associations), technology providers (PC and consumer electronics industry), and network operators may jeopardize the deployment of successful broadband music services in the future. Traditionally, the music

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industry has reacted to these problems by litigation. Yet, according to researchers, decreasing piracy does not necessarily imply increasing profits.82 Rather, maximum profit outcomes occur in the presence of piracy. Seeking regulatory means to stop piracy is likely to be a self-harming strategy. Although the music and movie industries have fallen prey to the plague of digital piracy, similar entertainment industries have been able to prosper in a similar environment. The online gaming industry is thriving, not because it has been able to stop the act of piracy, but because the interactive experience of online gaming cannot be duplicated and pirated. Music by its very nature is a hedonic product whose valuation is based on the experience it provides the consumer. Prince has been the role model for the development of new methods of reaching his audience. Even in the days of dial-up he sought to make his music available online, first as a way of ordering albums and then through digital distribution. The Internet truism is that information wants to be free; Prince’s corollary is that music wants to be heard. Yet, on September 13, 2007, he announced that he was considering legal action against YouTube, eBay, and the Swedish piracy search engine The Pirate Bay for posting material without his consent.83 It seems that Prince’s aim is to control his music content for those who want to hear it, not for his fans to make that decision. Ultimately, Prince’s experiments with redefining the music industry only go as far as getting music to his audience. Although for many artists their relationship with the major labels, especially Prince’s relationship with Sony BMG, both in terms of content and distribution, has been clearly established, the tenuous relationship between creator and audience is still evolving. The ability of consumers to control, manipulate, and transmit music in this digital age has given a once passive receiver a role in the creative process. Prince may be able to bypass music retailers, but the advent of social networking has given his fans an equal say in how they consume his music in this digital age. NOTES 1. John Pareles, “The Once and Future Prince,” New York Times, July 22, 2007, http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/22/arts/music/22pare.html. 2. Ibid. 3. Deborah Amos, “Compact Disc Giveaway Sparks Fury in Britain,” Day to Day, July 13, 2007, http://www.npr.org. 4. Entertainment Retailers Association, “Prince Covermount Plan ‘Beggars Belief,’ ” ERA Newsletter, June 28, 2007. 5. Ibid. 6. Nelda Ulaby, “Music Business Still Groping for Digital Age Plan,” All Things Considered, July 12, 2007, http://www.npr.org. 7. Alan Jones, “2006: The Year the Download Came of Age,” Music Week, January 13, 2007, 16.

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8. Matthew Kapko, “Mobile’s Music to Their Ears,” RCR Wireless News, May 14, 2007, 9. 9. Ulaby, “Music Business Still Groping.” 10. Ibid. 11. Michael X. Zhang, “A Review of Economic Properties of Music Distribution,” Music Industry: Emerging Paradigms (Hyderabad, India: ICFAI Press, 2007). 12. Harold Vogel, Entertainment Industry Economics –A Guide for Financial Analysis, 6th ed. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 254. 13. Ibid. 14. U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, 2004. 15. “IFPI Online Music Report 2004,” International Federation of the Phonograms Industry, http://www.ifpi.org/site-content/library/online-music-report-2004.pdf.; “The Recording Industry in Numbers 2004,” International Federation of the Phonograms Industry, http://www.ifpi.org/sitecontent/publications/rin_order.html. 16. Eliot Van Buskirk, “Which Online Store Works With Your MP3 Player?” CNET, June 29, 2004, http://www.reviews.cnet.com/4520 – 6490_7–5140299.htm. 17. Urs Gasser, “ITunes: How Copyright, Contract, and Technology Shape the Business of Digital Media—A Case Study,” Berkman Center, Harvard University, June 2004, http://cyber.law.harvard.edu/media/uploads/81/iTunesWhitePaper0604.pdf. 18. “Lindows Routes OS Over File-Sharing Networks,” CNET, March 4, 2004, http://www.news.com/Lindows-routes-OS-over-file-sharing-networks/2100 –7344_ 3–5169894.html. 19. “Impact and Perspectives of Electronic Commerce (IPEC): The Music Industry in the Netherlands,” Organization for Economic Co-Operation and Development, http:// www.oecd.org/dataoecd/49/2/2072953.pdf. 20. Price Waterhouse Coopers, “Global Entertainment and Media Outlook: 2004 – 2008,” July 14, 2004. 21. Ina Fried, “Virgin: Apple’s Not Playing Fair With IPod,” CNET, August 5, 2004, http://www.news.com.com/2100 –1027–5298642.html. 22. NPD Group, “Digital Music Consumers Choose Fewer Songs; Deeper Catalog,” December 8, 2003, http://www.npd.com/press/releases/press_031208.htm. 23. Eric Benderoff, “Can ITunes Help Music Sales Sprout Higher?: Analyst’s Report Shows Business at iTunes Taking a Dive, as Consumers are Opting to Download Single Tunes Instead of Entire Albums, Adding Pressure to Declining Sales in the Music Industry,” Chicago Tribune, December 13, 2006, n.p. 24. Timothy Burt, “Digital Demand Drives Up Sales,” Financial Times, January 6, 2005, 21. 25. “The Online Digital Music Market Reached an Estimated $1.1 Billion in the US,” M2PressWIRE, May 30, 2007, http://www.m2.com. 26. Bob Lefsetz, “The Lefsetz Letter: First in Music Analysis,” a Yahoo Music Blog. “All Summer Long,” August 12, 2008, http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/thelefset zletter/6194/all-summer-long. 27. Consumer Electronics Association, “CEA Corporate Report,” April 16, 2004, http:// www.ce.org/publications/corporate_report/default.asp and updated press release in January 2005, http://www.ce.org/press_room/press_release_detail.asp?id=10650. 28. “Bottom Line,” Music Week, April 14, 2007, 2. 29. Music Week, “New File-Sharing Set-Up to Reward legit Users,” June 14, 2004, 1.

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30. Price Waterhouse Coopers, “Global Entertainment.” 31. “IFPI Digital Music Report 2008,” International Federation of the Phonographic Industry, January 2008, 32. Price Waterhouse Coopers, “Global Entertainment.” 33. David Passmore, “(Un)Acceptable Use,” Business Communications Review 36, no. 8 (2006): 12. 34. “T-Mobile Unveils a Robbie Williams Branded Handset,” Marketing Week 29, no. 16 (2006): 1. 35. Edward C. Baig, “Phone Home on Gee-Whiz Capabilities,” USA Today, March 28, 2007, 3B. 36. OECD (2004a), Information Technology Outlook 2004, OECD Paris. 37. Ibid. 38. Jim Dalrymple, Philip Michaels, and Jason Snell, “Apple’s Record Sales,” MacWorld 24, no. 10 (2007): 18–19. 39. New York Times, “Today in Business,” September 15, 2007, n.p. 40. Dalrymple et al., “Apple’s Record Sales,” 18. 41. Laurie Flynn, “Progress Is Made in Solving Antitrust Issues,” New York Times, December 6, 2004, http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/06/business/businessspecial2/ 06regtech.html. 42. Stephen Castle, “Microsoft Gets Record Fine and a Rebuke from Europe,” New York Times, February 28, 2008, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/28/technology/ 28soft.html. 43. Jonathan Krim, “RealNetworks, Microsoft Settle Suit,” Washington Post, January 12, 2005, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/10/11/ AR2005101100661.html. 44. OECD (2004a), Information Technology Outlook 2004, OECD Paris. 45. Frank Aherns, “Music-Selling Rivals Take Aim at ITunes,” Washington Post, August 22, 2007, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/08/21/ AR2007082100996.html. 46. Known as the Communications, Consumer’s Choice, and Broadband Deployment Act of 2006 [S.2686]), it was introduced in the Senate on May 1, 2006, and has been referred to the Senate Commerce, Science and Transportation Committee. 47. U.S. Department of Justice, Department of Justice Comments on “Network Neutrality” in Federal Communications Commission Proceeding, USDOJ Press Release, September 6, 2007, http://www.usdoj.gov/opa/pr/2007/September/07_at_682.html. 48. Burt Helm, “Tech Giants’ Internet Battles; Web Titans Like Google and Yahoo! Are Battling Some of the Smartest Lobbyists in the Business. And They’ve Just Lost a Big One on Capitol Hill,” Business Week Online, April 27, 2006, http://www.busi nessweek.com/technology/content/apr2006/tc20060426_553893.htm. 49. Charter Communications, Inc.’s Motion to Quash Subpoena Served by the Recording Industry Association of Ameff.org E.D.Mo., Case No. 4:03 MC00273CEJ, October 3, 2003, paragraph 6. 50. Emily Umbright, “8th U.S. Circuit Court Rules Against Music Industry’s Appeal to Access ISP’s Customer’s Records,” The Daily Record, January 7, 2005, 1. 51. Mark H. Anderson, “Supreme Court Rejects Music Industry’s Appeal,” Dow Jones Newswire, December 11, 2004.

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52. Jon Jacobi and Mark Sullivan, “Make Your Own Web Mashup,” PC World 25, no. 10 (2007): 89. 53. “Alive and Kicking,” The Economist, September 25, 2004. 54. Anthony Bruno, “The Future of Music: Industry Transformation Is Just Getting Started,” Billboard, December 3, 2005, 49. 55. Ibid. 56. “Yahoo Dumps Music Service, Sends Customers to Rhapsody,” Gawker:Gizmodo, 2008, http://feeds.gawker.com/~r/gizmodo/full/~3/228905224/yahoo-dumps-musicservice-sends-customers-to-rhapsody. 57. IDC—Press Release (2004), “Booming Market for MP3 Players According to IDC’s Latest Forecast,” http://www.cdrinfo.com/Sections/News/Details. aspx? News Id=10625. 58. Consumer Electronics Association, “U.S. Consumer Electronics Sales & Forecasts 2000 –2005,” June 2004, http://www.cea.org. 59. Joseph Palenchar, “MP3 Player Sales Push Record ’06 Audio Sales,” TWICE: This Week in Consumer Electronics 22, no. 6 (2007): 8. 60. “Portable MP3 Player Ownership Reaches New High,” Ipsos Research, March 10, 2008, http://www.ipsos-na.com/news. 61. Alvin Toffler, The Futurists (New York: Random House, 1972). 62. Nicholas Negroponte, Being Digital (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1995). 63. Ibid., 53. 64. Martijn Poel, Paul Rutten, Pascal Verhoest, and Graham Vickery, “Impact and Perspectives of Electronic Commerce (IPEC): The Music Industry in the Netherlands,” OECD Electronic Business Impact Project, 2007, prepared by http://www. oecd.org/dataoecd/49/2/2072953.pdf. 65. Richard Normann and Rafael Ramirez, “From Value Chain to V Constellation: Designing Interactive Strategy,” Harvard Business Review (1993): 65–77. 66. OECD, “Information Technology Outlook 2002,” OECD Paris, 2002. 67. Michael McGuire, “Media Research Report: U.S. Online Music Industry Sustains Solid Growth in 2004,” Garner/G2, May 20, 2004, 1–11. 68. Michael Shields, “Teens on Social Networks Favor MySpace,” Media Week 17, no. 2 (2007): 4. 69. Katelyn McKenna, Arnie S. Green, and Marci Gleason, “Relationship Formation on the Internet: What is the Big Attraction?,” Journal of Social Issues 58, no. 1 (2002): 19. 70. Robert Kraut et al., “Social Impact of the Internet: What Does It Mean?,” Communications of the ACM 41, no. 12 (1998): 21–22. 71. Richard Siklos, “News Corp Buys and Internet Company,” New York Times Online, July 19, 2005, http://www.nytimes.com. 72. Matthew Wastradowski, “Bands Find Groove on MySpace,” The Columbian (Vancouver, WA), March 16, 2007, n.p. 73. Ibid. 74. Brian Garrity, Brian Butler, and Ed Christman, “The MP3 Question,” Billboard 118, no. 37 (2006): n.p. 75. Ethan Smith, Nick Wingfield, and Julia Angwin, “MySpace to Partner with Snocap in a Possible Online-Music Push,” Wall Street Journal, September 2, 2006, A3.

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76. Robert Levine, “MySpace Music Store Is a New Challenge for Big Labels,” New York Times, September 4, 2006, http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/04/technology/ 04myspace.html. 77. Leila Cobo et al., “The Latest News from.Biz,” Billboard, September 8, 2007, 36. 78. Joel Rose, “Uneasy Ties Bind Music Companies, Music Blogs,” Weekend Edition, July 28, 2007, http://www.npr.org. 79. David Gallagher, “Warner’s Tryst with Bloggers Hits Sour Note,” New York Times, August 16, 2004, Business and Finance Section. 80. Jeffrey Price, “You Can Go Your Own Way,” Remix, 14 August 2007, 60. 81. Elise Ackerman, “GBox Aims to Blend Digital Music Sales with Social Networking,” San Jose Mercury News, August 21, 2007, n.p. 82. Sudip Bhattacharjee et al., “Consumer Search and Retailer Strategies in the Presence of Online Music Sharing,” Journal of Management Information Systems 23, no. 1 (Summer 2006): 129–59. 83. Robert Johnson, “Prince Takes on YouTube,” The Guardian, September 14, 2007, http://business.guardian.co.uk/technology/2007/spe/14/1.

chapter 3

The Macro/International Music Business: Australian Trajectories and Perspectives in a Global Context Guy Morrow

In both its local and international forms, music industry success (measured in terms of profitability) is dependent on successful access to and exploitation of markets of sufficient scale to generate the income necessary to cover production and various artist development and facilitation costs. So few artists and managers achieve viable long-term careers that it is often said of the music industry that “failure is the norm.” Given that is the case in mainstream Western markets (such as the United Kingdom and the United States), with their massive markets, concentrated populations, and economies of scale, the issues facing performers from smaller, geographically isolated contexts such as Australia are considerable. If an artist manager and artist stay and operate in Australia alone, they will only ever be able to access two percent of the global market for popular music.1 However, there are multiple ways in which an Australian artist can break into foreign territories, and therefore, this chapter will put forth the Australian experience as a microcosm that will resonate with most artists who hail from countries that are outside of the larger mainstream Western territories such as the United States and who wish to have an international career. This chapter will specifically focus on two Australian companies: Eleven and Engine Room. These organizations exemplify the notion that artist managers and their companies are rising up the value chain that exists in the music industry and that major labels are looking to buy artist management companies so that they can participate in the income from all

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five key revenue stream groups: records, song publishing, merchandise, live performance, and sponsorship. The argument here is that there is now more pressure on the artist and artist manager to build the artist’s career in the new online industrial climate, and therefore, some management companies are effectively shadowing record companies through the way in which they are beginning to fulfill many of the responsibilities that used to belong to independent or major record labels. These companies are analogous to production companies that exist within the film industry. Furthermore, this trend within the music industry needs to be located within a larger trend that is occurring in the global economy. In this wider context, successful corporations are increasingly producing images of their brands rather than products, and this has, therefore, shifted the emphasis from manufacturing to marketing. What these trends and changes mean for new artist management and production companies such as Eleven and Engine Room will be explored. Of the myriad ways in which Australian managers can see their artists’ recordings released in foreign territories, the following three methods have been identified for comparison here: 1. Signing directly to a foreign independent or major label. 2. Licensing or assigning the right to exploit the copyright in a pre-existing record to a label in a foreign territory. 3. Sourcing a deal with a multinational out of Australia and having it released in a foreign territory through an intercompany license agreement.

The Eleven and Engine Room case studies will be considered in relation to the methods outlined here. These entities were established so that the practitioners involved could more efficiently sign their artists directly to foreign independent or major labels and/or license the right to exploit the copyright in pre-existing recordings to foreign labels. Symbiotic relationships have been formed between Australian music management and production companies and major record labels in foreign territories. These relationships have developed as a result of the problems facing major labels in the new digital environment and the challenges Australian artist managers face when trying to break into foreign markets from Australia. As many record companies downsize by employing fewer marketing and promotion staff, and through outsourcing artist and repertoire (A&R) to freelance producers, an interesting trend is emerging.2 Some management companies are effectively shadowing record companies through the way in which they are beginning to fulfill many of the responsibilities that used to belong to independent or major record labels. This is enabling these companies, and the artist managers who run them, to play a much greater role within the music industry. These companies are analogous to production companies that exist within the film industry.3

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In relation to the new Web-based version of the business that has emerged and that has replaced previous business models, influential Australian music manager and song publisher Keith Welsh notes that: It’s so good that managers and bands can now actually manage so much more of it themselves . . . there are so many different websites and so many places you can do it . . . It’s exactly the same problem though because the artists and managers then think “oh my God there are so many more outlets, there are no mainstream outlets now and this means that time becomes a premium and knowing which websites are effective and which ones aren’t becomes a premium as well . . . The research and education that managers have to give themselves now is far greater than at any other time.4

The argument here is that there is now more pressure on the artist and artist manager to build the artist’s career in the new online industrial climate. This suggests that artist managers and their companies are rising up the value chain that exists in the music industry and that major labels are looking to buy artist management companies so that they can participate in the income from all five key revenue stream groups: records, song publishing, merchandise, live performance, and sponsorship. In some situations, major record labels are streamlining their operations by becoming funding operations that foster relationships with artist management companies, relationships that are similar to those between large film studios and film production companies. This process means that outside artist management and production entities have the responsibility for developing and manufacturing the actual product; therefore, the business models they are employing are extensions of the way in which independent record labels have licensed recordings to major labels in the past. This model suggests that major labels will become funding, marketing, and distribution operations that will focus on producing brands rather than products. This trend can be located in an historical context. David Throsby notes that there have been important structural changes in the global music industry since the 1970s.5 He asserts that the independent distribution system that had existed for many years began to break down in the 1980s, and this led to an increasing number of the directors of independent labels agreeing to have their products distributed by one of the major distributors. He notes that: This trend has continued to the point now where many otherwise independent labels are distributed by one of the major transnationals. In fact it has been suggested that the independent record companies act in a way that serves the potential interests of the majors. They are generally involved in developing music outside the mainstream; if their music is successful they may begin to pose a threat to the majors’ market dominance. If so they may be absorbed by the majors . . . the relationship between the two types of companies may be thought of as symbiotic rather than oppositional.6

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The two artist management and production companies that are the focus of this study, Eleven and Engine Room, have taken this already symbiotic relationship between “indies” and “majors” even further. These two companies have been chosen for analysis here because they are emblematic of the central claim that artist management and production companies are rising up the value chain that exists in the music business through the way in which they are operating more like production companies that exist in the film industry. These case studies are also useful for an understanding of how the broader products to brands paradigm shift is affecting the music business. The majors did not absorb these two companies after their beginning as independent record labels in the aforementioned way; rather, the artist managers who began these companies worked closely with major labels from the beginning. Although the way these two companies operate is similar to the way in which independent record labels have operated for many years, these companies are not miniature models of majors that are either symbiotic or oppositional to the larger labels. These companies are in direct partnership with majors; they take only some of the responsibilities that used to belong to the major labels. At its most extreme, this production company model would give musicians the freedom to make records on a project-by-project basis by working with the most appropriate practitioners in a production team, rather than them being signed to one independent or major record label for all of their projects. The product produced by the team would then be signed to whichever record label was willing to work with this company in order to market and distribute a ready-made product. The musicians would then be free to team up with whomever they pleased in order to produce their next project. The Australian music production company Engine Room is the company that has gone the furthest down this path, while the operation of music production company Eleven represents a slighter departure from the norm. The process of signing record deals with multinational companies has frustrated some Australian artist managers so much that they have found other pathways and arrangements. This is because such deals often involve artists “signing for the world,” and when an artist is signed for the world, one multinational company controls their copyrights/intellectual property in all countries/territories. It depends on the individual deal and the company (recording or publishing or combination) as to whether this includes administering performance royalties or mechanical royalties (or both). As will be explained, there is a perception that such deals limit the possibilities for release overseas. Australian artist manager Todd Waggstaff and music producer/songwriter and Engine Room cofounder Andrew Klippel have worked with a number of different Australian artists who were signed for the world from Australia.7 Waggstaff notes that because these artists had to go through the label to

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which they were signed, the artists’ products were neither prioritized nor released in foreign territories. Waggstaff claims that if an artist is signed to a branch of a multinational record company in Australia, the fact that their recordings have to enter foreign territories via the channels this company provides means that there is no bidding war and no discovery process for the A&R staff in this territory. The foreign record company’s employees are simply given a finished record with finished artwork and a finished video clip. Waggstaff and Klippel started Engine Room in partnership with Australian media tycoon James Packer in order to satisfy their desire to work on recording projects that would definitely be released and prioritized in foreign territories. They became frustrated while working with Australian artists who were signed to multinational companies from Australia; these artists would be blocked by the conventional intercompany arrangement. According to Waggstaff, it is not just a question of the discovery process; intercompany license agreements work against Australian artists who are trying to access foreign markets. He specifically states that: The reason why you don’t get prioritised is that when the US company releases an artist signed to the Australian company they have to pay a fixed inter-company license rate, 30% is about the royalty they have to pay, so if Warner Australia sign an artist and Warner America release it, they have to pay 30% as the royalty whereas they pay 15% or 17% for local American product.

Australian artist manager John Watson also desires to work around the limitations that worldwide deals with major labels out of Australia cause.8 However, Watson’s label Eleven is quite different to Engine Room because everything his label does is done in partnership with major label EMI. Discussing the reason for setting up his new label, Watson notes: What we found is that when we approached major labels with artists and said that we wanted to sign for just this part of the world we were told that it couldn’t be done. When we walked in and said that we’re a label and we want a label deal for just this part of the world they said “yeah that’s fine,” and so in that case we said “fine, we’re a label.”

Therefore, the impetus for the creation of these unorthodox arrangements was the fact that such intercompany license agreements hamper Australian managers’ attempts to break into foreign territories. Furthermore, the Australian experience here is a microcosm that exemplifies a truism that is relevant to artists working in most countries outside of the United States. Artists who want to be heard internationally but who do not hail from or live in this larger territory may find this model a prudent one to follow because at times such intercompany deals render their attempts completely ineffectual.

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Although the managers featured in this case study still wished to work with major labels, to meet their goals they needed to change the nature of their agreements with the majors. The particular approaches that these two managers have employed effectively enabled them and their artists to maintain artistic control through the way in which they now, to differing degrees, carry the financial and creative burden of actually producing the product. This product is then licensed to various major record labels that primarily focus on marketing, distributing, and ultimately branding this ready-made product. This trend within the music industry needs to be located within a larger trend that is occurring within the global economy. In this wider context, successful corporations are increasingly producing images of their brands rather than products or things, and this has therefore shifted the emphasis from manufacturing to marketing.9 Naomi Klein claims that the formula of buying products and branding them, rather than producing products and advertising them, has proven to be so profitable that companies are competing in a race toward weightlessness.10 This trend within the larger capitalistic economy, of which the music industry is a part, is enabling Australian artist managers such as Waggstaff and Watson to navigate around the pitfalls of signing and developing Australian artists intended for the international marketplace. On the other hand, this trend is allowing various major record labels to become “weightless” due to the fact that they are no longer burdened with the liabilities associated with record production. In this case, the process of marketing or branding has become their focus. This paradigm shift can be beneficial for the artists it affects. Watson’s label Eleven offers the artists signed to it the advantages of having more creative control over their products and also of receiving more points.11 When setting up Eleven, Watson was faced with a potential conflict of interest. When a manager also becomes the owner of the record label or production company to which their artists are signed there is the potential for this manager to receive a label share of the artist’s royalties (and other income) as well as a manager’s share. Rather than paying himself twice, Watson got around this inherent conflict of interest through passing any potential benefits the new structure generated onto the actual artists: From our point of view the “up-side” we feel that we offer to our clients is as follows. Firstly, because they’re not paying a label share, they’re actually receiving a label royalty which is usually higher than an artist’s royalty. So they’re actually making more per record because the benefit we get from being a label is passed onto them and the benefit that comes to us is generated because our commissions are greater because we’re getting the same size slice of a slightly bigger pie. The second benefit is that we have the control that we want over the marketing and promotion of the records

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and certainly over the A&R of the records as well . . . And finally, probably most importantly from our standpoint, it’s our profound belief that having a person behind the desk in New York or LA or London with a direct stake in your career is more likely to lead to your success internationally.

Watson’s artists had a better deal, and he was in an advantageous position because he was commissioning the standard 20 percent of the artist’s income (under the new arrangement this also included the label share of the royalties). However, Eleven still had the advantage of being able to work through a major label’s marketing and distribution networks. Eleven’s artists are also free to sign with whichever label they please in foreign territories. Watson and his artists are therefore receiving the best of both worlds; Eleven has access to the all-important marketing and distribution networks of a major label—it is still closely associated with EMI Australia—while the artists receive more money and retain a huge degree of creative control. Although Watson set up Eleven as an independent music company, EMI invested in the label. As manager of the successful Australian band Silverchair (a band whose original recording contract with Sony music had expired), Watson was able to bring the band in on the deal and utilize them as “the carrot” to the record company. He negotiated a deal with EMI stating that if they wanted to sign the band they would have to distribute and market the band’s products, accept their terms with regard to creative control, and invest in the label. In this way, unlike Engine Room, Watson has aligned Eleven with one particular major label. This is how Watson was able to get around another conflict of interest that necessarily manifests itself when managers also run their artists’ record company. Australian artist manager Kim Thomas explains the tension and conflict that arises when one person fulfils both roles:12 I actually find it difficult being the manager of the artist and running the record label. The only way that I deal with that is I keep my manager’s hat on and I stay over there as a manager and I treat my other partners in the label as a record label. This is because for me it doesn’t actually work because from a record label point of view there are issues involved with marketing expenditure. For example, the record company will not want to spend the money whereas on behalf of the artist you want the money.

Watson gets around this problem because Eleven is run in partnership with a major label, EMI. This major label is responsible for the marketing expenditure, not Eleven. He states: It’s completely in our interest as Eleven to get EMI to spend as much as possible on marketing our artists and we’re never backwards in coming forward and asking them to spend more because it’s their money not ours and it therefore doesn’t effect our income one bit.

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Watson’s position as director of Eleven also had the potential to change the relationship he had with his artists. The relationships between an artist and their manager and an artist and their record company are fundamentally different. Fred Goodman states that, “a manager is employed and paid by the artist, while a record company essentially hires—and as a rule owns the work of—the artist.”13 By becoming the record company, Watson in a way reversed his relationship with his artists; instead of working for them, they work for him. However, although a superficial assessment of Eleven would suggest that this is the case, Watson is a manager who claims that he has always understood the leverage that he has had at his fingertips through being an artist manager. Watson asserts that although he is now the manager and the record company, the artists are still in charge because they are the only ones who have a trump card to play. He points out that: I think that the artist could say that they don’t want to make music anymore and then just go home. I think that the artist doesn’t always act like they’re in charge and it’s probably in the manager’s interest that that’s the case often, but I think that when the biggest call comes, the artist is the one who ultimately has to make it. They can decide not to make a video; they can decide not to go on tour.

Watson believes that Eleven’s business model gives the artists the power to be in charge of their own creativity and ultimately their own career trajectory. The paradigm shift from products to brands has led to the generation of a management and production company that enables the people who love making music to get more involved with making music, rather than only the people who love making money getting involved with making music. Gregg Donavan states that:14 Sure, the production companies in the movie world want to make money too but I’d dare say they got there because they wanted to make movies, where as this is not always the case with record company guys because they’ve come in from other industries that their parent company owned and they restructure and relocate. They really do just want to make money; they’re really not interested in the art 99% of the time. They always employ someone to act like they care—that’s what A&R guys are.

When artists are signed to a management and production company rather than directly to a record company they belong to more of a supportive artistic community; this suggests that the negative gang-warfare attitude that exists between many artists and bands may become diluted: You’re opening it up to a lot of collaborations and you’re creating a community, which is the idea of what it used to be. I mean that’s where the

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term “stable” came from. You never hear anyone using that terminology anymore. I mean those words came from the Motown guys who really believed in the records they made. They were music people. Most of the MDs back then were musicians with business skills. You find a record executive these days who can strum one note or play a beat—I’d be very surprised. But they’ve all got accounting and law degrees.

Watson’s strategy is in line with the argument that major labels will change how they operate simply through becoming distribution facilities much like the larger entities in the film industry. In this particular case, rather than create content in-house through using their own A&R department, EMI and Watson have fostered a relationship together. EMI is willing to let Watson and Eleven discover acts and develop them while understanding that their role will be to brand these products and get them to people—whether through digital means or through the distribution of physical products. However, unlike Engine Room, Eleven has not fully endorsed a film industry model in which major film stars do not do long-term deals with a particular film studio. It is clear that the musicians signed to Eleven are not entirely free to make records on a project-by-project basis in this way as Eleven is still attached to EMI. Engine Room is more like a production company in the film industry than a record label in the music industry. Engine Room manufactures records completely independently of a major label and then assigns most of the rights to these products to various major labels in foreign territories. The fundamental difference between Engine Room and Eleven is that Engine Room is not aligned with one particular major label and is more like an independent record label. Engine Room signs their artists’ publishing and recording rights for the world from Australia and then arranges partnership deals that involve them assigning most of those rights to whichever label suits the artist or to whichever label gives them the best deal. Like Eleven, Engine Room maintains creative control. However, creative control is maintained through investing the capital needed to make the records and videos themselves. This strategy simultaneously puts Engine Room in a high-risk situation while also generating their main competitive advantage. Because they themselves carry the financial burden of originating their artists’ careers, major labels in foreign territories are more willing to sign their artists. Once Engine Room produces the records and video clips, they are taken directly to labels in the United Kingdom and the United States, territories that lead the worldwide popular music market. Waggstaff notes that: We don’t take out artists and develop them here and then sign them into an inter-company license agreement in this country, we take them overseas and we end up being the middle ground. It’s more expensive to sign

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an artist from us than it is to sign them directly, but then we’ve taken the financial punt and have put up the first maybe half a million dollars, so it takes the risk out of their equation . . . It decreases the royalty you’d have to pay an Australian artist coming through an inter-company license agreement and it decreases the risk that they would have to take if they were signing a local band.

Engine Room is a 50 -50 joint venture between music producer and songwriter Andrew Klippel and James Packer.15 Packer’s ownership of Channel 9 and other online and print media outlets in Australia is advantageous for the artists signed to Engine Room. There is a perception that in terms of the publicity these outlets can provide, Engine Room’s artists are implicitly (or otherwise) prioritized due to Packer’s involvement. Todd Waggstaff is the company’s manager. Waggstaff and Klippel have spent more time over the last decade working overseas than they have in Australia, and this has given them a deeper understanding of what is applicable to specific foreign territories. In a conventional record company, A&R staff and other employees do not go straight to the public to sell new performers; the overall marketing process involves these employees selling artists to their own company first, then to the trade, and then to the record buyers.16 Engine Room has effectively assumed the responsibility of selling artists to record companies. Waggstaff claims that the time he and Klippel have spent working in foreign territories has given them an insight into how to best cater for the subtle nuances of each major territory. He says that they: choose artists who are great and who will hopefully transcend current fashion. We’re not trying to guess what the current trend is, but we do know what certain label’s preferences are, we know what individual A&R people have signed in the past and what they have been successful with. We know where there are holes in the repertoire of certain labels that we could plug something into. So it makes our pitch a little bit more precise in that we understand the market, we understand why our artist is relevant to that market and we understand why our artist is relevant to media in that market.

Within 12 months of Waggstaff and Klippel returning from Los Angeles and securing the funding with Packer in a 50 -50 joint venture, Engine Room, after developing and manufacturing their records and videos, signed Holly Valance to London Warner, The Vines to Capital/EMI in the United States and the United Kingdom, and Carla Werner to Columbia/Sony in New York. Engine Room’s strategic plan involves establishing a track record via the initial success of their artists. Once a few of their artists become financially successful and they demonstrate their ability as a development and production

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company, the slightly one-sided assignment of copyright deals they have to agree to in order to work in partnership with major labels will eventually be replaced with deals that are weighted in their favor. This theory is based on the premise that the balance of power shifts with success. Fortunately, The Vines and Holly Valance have become financially successful artists, and their success should lure other major labels into signing contracts that are increasingly weighted in Engine Room’s favor. Waggstaff notes: We’ll maintain more rights as we move forward . . . so that our economic model is that we start out giving away a whole lot to establish a track record and then as it moves over time we give away less and less and in a few years time, rather than do a license deal, it becomes a license of copyright, then it becomes a short term license of copyright, then it becomes not a license of copyright, but a license to distribute certain records and so it moves from a deal where all the services of a record label outside A&R are performed by our partners, then it moves over time to one where we become a full service label and we perform all functions other than the warehousing and distribution to retail.

Therefore, Engine Room is building toward becoming a full-service label. While it appears they have endorsed a film industry model through becoming a management and production company that shadows various record companies, they are in fact only using this strategy in order to lay the foundation for Engine Room to become a conventional record company in its own right. Although Engine Room’s strategic plan suggests that over time the company’s evolution will enable this entity to become a full-service label, the company faces a number of threats. This strategy may well lead to Engine Room becoming caught in a paradigm shift that involves international record companies beginning to focus more on the marketing of brands rather than the manufacture of product. At first it appears that Engine Room has successfully been able to work Australian acts in foreign territories, and it seems that the model they employ has enabled them to come to the forefront of this sector of the industry; however, on closer inspection it is increasingly clear that Engine Room may have simply been burdened with the liabilities associated with record production. Klein claims that the sports company Nike has become the prototype for the product-free brand. Nike outsources the production of its products to contractors who are located all over the world.17 Freed from the “chains of production” through employing such an outsourced structure, Nike has an abundance of time and money to constantly create and recreate the Nike brand image.18 Klein argues that, in Nike’s case, branding has replaced production entirely and that the staggering success of this business model has led to a wider acceptance of the business philosophy of no-limits spending on branding. This

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means that increasingly there is limited value in simply making things anymore, as value is added by careful research, innovation, and marketing.19 Engine Room’s audacity to take the first financial risk through manufacturing their artist’s products themselves forms their present competitive advantage. However, this means that the advantage the record company involved has is that the capital they would normally spend producing records can instead be allocated to the marketing department. This would give the company a distinct advantage over their competitors because in popular music “image is everything.”20 If this outsourced production structure and marketing focus proves to be successful then the majority of major labels will have to follow this trend in order to remain competitive. The timing of this trend within other industries, and potentially within the music industry, not only reflects branding’s status as the perceived economic cure-all, it also reflects a corresponding devaluation of the production process and of producers in general. If Engine Room’s current business model became the main model endorsed in the music industry because a series of management and production companies successfully employed it, the competition between these companies would potentially lead to them offering major labels the best deals possible at their (Engine Room’s) expense. Not only would these music management and production companies be burdened with the liabilities associated with record production, the competition would mean that they would have to provide these records at rock-bottom prices. Through outsourcing manufacturing and focusing on brand management, the record company would have a distinct advantage over the music production company. The products to brands paradigm shift can be detrimental to artists. There is never a guarantee that any particular musical product will see a release because any deal or relationship can fall over. However, if other companies were to follow Engine Room’s lead and emerge as entities that are analogous to production companies in the film industry, the artists who signed to them would have even less certainty that their work would be released. This is because it is unlikely that other music production companies would have the connections required to form a partnership with someone who is as powerful as James Packer. According to Donavan, because Engine Room is making the records and then looking for the marketing and distribution deals, their business model presents their artists with a large degree of risk. As they are not directly connected to one major label like Watson’s company Eleven is, there is the potential that they will not be able to get a marketing and distribution deal for some of the records they produce. Donavan states, “I would not want to sign a band to Engine Room who’s going to make a record for us that might not see a release. I’d want to know that if I was going to sign my rights over to a record company that I was definitely going to get a record out in the marketplace.”

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According to Donavan, word would start spreading that this particular artist could not even get their first record released, and the artist would then be many steps back from where they started. The artist would not be approaching other industry practitioners with a positive story. From an artist’s perspective, Engine Room’s business model represents a risky situation. Engine Room’s business model is also potentially problematic for their artists because the growth this model generates is not organic. Engine Room’s methodology may only generate short-term interest from the record labels they form partnerships with; Holly Valance’s relatively short career is an illustration of this. Engine Room’s business model is analogous to a production company in the film industry, a company that would be free to be associated with any of the major film studios. From the perspective of the record label Engine Room forms a partnership with, the arrangement may become problematic because this business model could breed disloyalty. A brand (music or otherwise) is built over a long period of time. If a music production company and their artists are free to work with major labels on a project-by-project basis, any label that invests in these artists in order to further brand them through their marketing and distribution campaigns is not necessarily going to be there when the overall long-term branding campaign pays dividends. A production company model that is analogous to certain production companies in the film industry may not work in the music industry. This is because music-marketing campaigns often focus more on the artist as a brand whereas, in the film industry, a film’s title is often the focus, and this lends itself to companies that work on a project-by-project basis.21 Compared to Engine Room, Watson’s company Eleven represents less of a departure from the norm, and therefore, this venture does not present the participants with as much risk. From an artist’s perspective, Eleven’s business model is advantageous. Because Eleven is in partnership with a specific major label, the artists signed to this company receive a guarantee that their work will be released, they have more creative control, and they receive more points while still having access to this major label’s marketing capital and distribution systems. These artists are also still free to sign with whomever they please in foreign territories. From Watson’s perspective as an artist manager, this arrangement takes care of the inherent conflicts of interest that arise when one person fulfills the roles of both band manager and record company executive. Without artist management the music industry could not function; however, it could function without record companies due to the substantial number of alternative revenue streams. Influential international artist managers such as Michael McMartin and Jazz Summers believe that the future will depend more on creative managers’ and artists’ abilities than record companies’ abilities.22 This suggests that artist management and production companies are set to rise up the value chain that exists in the music industry and that

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these companies are going to form closer relationships with (or be bought by) major record labels. While Eleven and Engine Room were initially set up to address the issue that Australian artists and artist managers operating solely in Australia can only ever access 2 percent of the global market for popular music, broadly speaking, the impact of new technologies on the international music business is leading to the emergence of unorthodox companies such as these, companies that have nontraditional access to the five key income stream groups that stem from contemporary music.23 The emergence of such companies has implications for the artist managers involved with them. This is because, traditionally, artist managers have been service providers; they have not been in partnership with their artists. When a manager and artist form a company that enables the manager to not only commission the different revenue streams but to actually have equity in the assets that are generating some of the income, a number of conflicts of interest emerge. In the new industrial climate that is emerging, these conflicts, such as the manager being able to “double dip” by both commissioning the artist’s income from record sales and receiving income because they own the recordings because they are also the record label, need to be negotiated. When artist managers move up the music business value chain there are positive and negative implications for their cash flow. While they may have equity in the company that owns the musical assets, because they are no longer a service provider who is simply investing both expertise and time in the project, they may no longer be able to receive immediate income throughout the development of the artist’s career. Most of the revenue new companies generate is put back into the running of the company rather than being paid out in commissions to a manager who is a service provider. While traditionally the role of the artist manager has involved them persuading other entities into investing money to develop the artist’s career, the new artist management and production companies that are emerging may require managers to invest their own money. As service providers, managers can still earn commissions from artists who do not have financially successful careers, however, if the artist does have longevity and is financially successful, managers who are service providers are in a vulnerable position in the long term. Furthermore, when artist managers set up partnerships or companies with their artists, this tends to bind the artist and manager together and it is harder to terminate the agreement/relationship. It is not as clear as to how the assets that have been generated by the company are to be split upon termination. Due to the declining sales of recorded music in the CD format, the representative arrangements discussed in this chapter ultimately mean that record companies are fulfilling changing roles in the music business, while the influence of artist managers and their firms is increasing. This is because artist managers deal with all five income stream groups that stem from their clients’ work: records, live performance, merchandise, song publishing, and

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sponsorship. While a positive aspect of this trend is that it is leading to the establishment of smaller, more maneuverable companies that can help non-U.S. artists be heard internationally by navigating various pitfalls associated with more traditional business structures, these trends will also potentially have a negative impact on the industry because conflicts of interest will become more common as artist managers rise up the value chain that exists in the music business. The following propositions can be gleaned from this chapter: 1. Artist managers will increasingly assume the role of the record company while also controlling their client’s live performance income, income from merchandise, income from song publishing, and income from sponsorship agreements. 2. While artist managers will increasingly find themselves within a web of potential conflicts of interest, because record companies are moving to participate in income from all five income stream groups because of the decline in record sales, they, too, may face numerous conflicts of interest. 3. The role of artist management will increasingly move from service provision to a situation where the role necessitates owning and controlling the equity in the artistic products/assets.

In the current industrial climate a code of conduct is needed in order to help practitioners navigate their way through this industrial paradigm shift. NOTES 1. All comments attributed to Keith Welsh, Todd Waggstaff, John Watson, Kim Thomas, Gregg Donavan, Michael McMartin, and Jazz Summers in this chapter are, unless otherwise indicated, taken from personal correspondence with the author conducted in November 2003, June 2005, and May 2007. 2. According to IFPI data, world sales of recorded music fell 7.6 percent in value in 2003, and this fourth consecutive year of falling record sales is attributed to the combined effects of digital and physical piracy and competition from other entertainment products (2004). It is in this industrial context that, in 2004, Sony Music merged with BMG in order to generate $400 million in cost savings. BMG chief executive Rolf Schmidt-Holtz said of the deal that: “If (Sony and BMG) stood alone, we would have to cut artist rosters and even closing activities in smaller countries. . . . This merger is the best guarantee that we can maintain a broad roster of artists in the current environment.” IFPI. 2004. “Global music sales fall by 7.6% in 2003—some positive signs in 2004.” London: International Federation of Phonographic Industries Secretariat. 3. Biskind, P. 1999. Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex ‘n’ Drugs ‘n’ Rock ‘n’ Roll Generation Saved Hollywood. London: Bloomsbury, 90. 4. Welsh, in discussion with author, May 2007. 5. Throsby, D. 2002. “The Music Industry in the New Millennium: Global and Local Perspectives,” unpublished paper prepared for the Division of Arts and Cultural Enterprise, UNESCO, Paris.

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6. Ibid., 15. 7. Todd Waggstaff (formerly of Festival/Mushroom records, Roo Art records, manager of successful Australian band You Am I in Australia and in the United States and Managing Director of Engine Room), in discussion with the author, June 2005. 8. John Watson (Eleven and John Watson management), in discussion with author, June 2005. 9. The marketing or branding phenomenon has seen a 700 percent increase in U.S. corporate sponsorship spending between 1985 and 1998 (IEG Sponsorship Report, December 22, 1997, and December 21, 1998 in Klein, N. 2000. No Logo. London: Flamingo/Harper Collins, 37). 10. Klein, N. 2000. No Logo. London: Flamingo/Harper Collins. 11. Industry practitioners use the term points to refer to what percentage of the royalties each individual involved receives because 1 percent often represents, or has the potential to represent, a viable amount of money. 12. Kim Thomas (Black Yak Records and Black Yak Management), in discussion with the author, September 2006. 13. Goodman, F. 1998. The Mansion on the Hill. New York: Vintage Books/Random House, 240. 14. Gregg Donavan (Step2 Management; Grinspoon and Airbourne), in discussion with the author, November 2003. 15. James Packer is the son of the deceased Australian media tycoon Kerry Packer and is now the head of the family businesses. 16. Goodman, 1998, 281. 17. Klein argues that Nike lent itself to this business model because the company actually began as an American import/export scheme for made-in-Japan running shoes. 18. Klein, 2000, 219. 19. Ibid., 217. 20. Ibid. 21. Biskind, 1999, 110. 22. Michael McMartin (Melody Management), in discussion with author, June 2005; Jazz Summer (Jazz Summers Management), in discussion with author, June 2005. 23. Welsh, in discussion with author, August 2005.

chapter 4

Music Copyright in the Twenty-First Century Robert McParland

Copyright is literally the right to copy a work of art. It is an intangible property right that provides exclusive rights to authors for the protection of their writings. It grants exclusivity to authors to reproduce and publish their work and prevents others from doing so. Copyright protects how ideas are expressed. The unique expression of ideas is what is copyrighted. Currently, music copyright, once a subject of specialized concern for entertainment attorneys, law professors, music publishers, and songwriters, has emerged as a hot topic for music listeners and consumers. With digital downloading and relatively easy access and distribution by electronic means, the use of copyrighted material has entered a new and often controversial phase. With the new emphasis to protect intellectual property from piracy has come new restrictions that affect the public. The future of the music industry, in part, hinges upon developing legal ways for consumers to buy product electronically while protecting intellectual property. It is increasingly necessary that we come up with creative solutions to the challenges of digital media and public policy. It has become imperative that constitutional concerns regarding copyright and not exclusively business and trade interests be weighed and considered. Those concerned with copyright must balance the public interest with authors’ interests and companies’ economic interests. Legislators must practice Constitutional discourse, as well as business discourse, in this matter. Congress has to consider creators and users, as well as copyright’s impact upon trade and upon America’s future. With the emergence of digital technologies, copyright has entered a period of dispute. Digital technology has advanced rapidly, and copyright has

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been playing catch-up. In a peer-to-peer music sharing environment much is at stake. The discussion is usually framed by corporate interest because accessibility to music product through these digital technologies threatens their traditional revenue streams. However, to find effective solutions, the discussion must move beyond narrowly defined issues of piracy toward innovative reform of copyright and effective uses of digital download technology. One may argue the case that copyright revision will benefit the public, creative artists, and companies holding copyrights. Even so, it is likely that copyright discussions, on the legislative level, will be dominated in the immediate future by corporate music business interests. Much has been written about the problems that are facing us. Peter Jaszi outlined the issues of authorship, contemporary copyright, and collective creativity in the Duke Law Journal more than a decade ago. More recently, he has suggested that his testimony before Congress was not really heard because, in his view, Congress listens thinking of trade rather than of Constitutional issues. Lawrence Lessig, an attorney who continues to lead a battle for the revision of copyright law, is strongly opposed to copyright extensions and believes that they negatively affect the public commons. Rosemary Coombe, in The Cultural Life of Intellectual Properties: Authorship, Appropriation and the Law (1998), urges a cultural studies approach to legal discourse about copyright, one that is social, political, and ethical. Mark Rose, in Authors and Owners: The Invention of Copyright (1992), has looked carefully at eighteenthcentury copyright law cases and concluded his book by arguing that copyright is “an archaic and cumbersome system of cultural regulation.”1 Martha Woodmansee, in “The Genius and the Copyright: Economic and legal Conditions of the Emergence of the Author” (1984), connected copyright law economics and the romantic notion of genius and originality. Paul K. SaintAmour, in The Copyrights (2003), points to the impact of copyright upon cultural memory. He makes no mention of how the European extension of copyright terms to life plus 70 years via the Berne Convention influenced the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act in the United States. The Sonny Bono Term Extension was, in part, a reaction to the participation of the United States in the Berne Convention. Pat Choate, in Hot Property: The Stealing of Ideas in an Age of Globalization (2005), makes a strong case for the need to adapt copyright to the digital age in a way that will safeguard commercial practices and support the public commons. The digital revolution has prompted legislation to guard intellectual property rights. Some have argued that digital exchange facilitates the flow of knowledge and allows for the empowerment of people. They argue that this contributes to the sharing of information and culture. However, digital exchange of music affects the profits and traditional rights systems of the music and media industries.

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At issue is a clear economic reality: Music copyrights are big business. Publishing companies, record companies, and artists assert their copyrights because they have created, purchased, or marketed copyrighted songs. In the 1990s, several domestic and foreign initiatives were taken that attempted to broaden intellectual property protection. These included the 1998 Digital Millennium Act (Public Law 105–304, 112 Statute 2860) and the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act (Public Law 105–298 Statute 3287). The legislative intent of the Digital Millennium Act was to correlate world intellectual property law. It would provide for greater protection for digital and electronic works that are under copyright. The Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act, likewise, was intended to make U.S. copyright more consistent with the Berne Convention in Europe. These acts were preceded by the Audio Home Recording Act (AHRA) of 1992, which permitted the taping of a television program for home viewing later (Public Law 102–307, 106 Statute 264). However, copyright law was intended not only to promise protection and incentive for the creators and owners of musical works. It was also drafted with an eye to the public good that would come from such creation. Copyright was originally viewed as providing incentive to creators to contribute their works to the public. Recognizing that ideas and creativity are what advance society in its thinking and feeling, intellectual property law sought a temporary right for artists and inventors to their creations. In its initial intent, copyright law emphasized the “temporary” nature of this exclusive right. It was believed that after a writer, musician, or artist held this copyright to a song for a time, it would then enter the public domain. Access to use of the work would then provide a broader benefit to the society.2 Those who criticize copyright extensions as contrary to the public good sometimes point to the origins of U.S. copyright. The U.S. Constitution, in Article 1, Section 8, gives Congress the charge “to promote the progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries.” Thomas Jefferson was instrumental in the article’s creation through James Madison. Jefferson wrote to Madison in September 1789 that the copyright term should be focused on: “This principle, that the earth belongs to the living and not to the dead.” Jefferson, himself a writer and an inventor, wrote to Isaac McPherson on August 13, 1813: “He who receives an idea from me receives instruction himself without lessening mine; as he who lights his taper at mine, receives light without darkening me.”3 The drafters of the U.S. Constitution stated that their intended purpose for copyright was to “promote progress of Science and Useful Arts.” They gave little guidance on how this was to be done. However, it is clear that the U.S. approach to copyright focuses upon public benefit more than European

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copyright law does. As Christina N. Gifford has pointed out, France’s approach to copyright is more author-oriented.4 However, copyright extensions signed into U.S. law have placed increasing emphasis upon copyright holders, whether writers or companies. Opponents of the present system of copyrights have been bothered by these copyright extensions. For some, this has created darkness for our cultural heritage by limiting our ability to pass the light of creativity along. It has been argued that the public commons has been shortchanged by copyright extensions in recent years. Today, debate persists concerning the appropriate term of copyright. When the U.S. House of Representatives wrote the Copyright Act of 1976, they noted: “The debate over how long a copyright should last is as old as the oldest copyright statute and will doubtless continue as long as there is a copyright law” (HRR, EP No. 94 –1476 [1976]). With copyright extensions, songs do not fall into the public domain. Thus, they are not readily available to other artists and writers to use without authorization, which usually includes a fee. This, some argue, inhibits creativity. Consequently, we now have to confront the issue of how copyright and digital media will impact the creative artist, the consumer, researchers, and educators at the present time and in the future.5 The Copyright Act of 1909 provided for a term of 56 years. There would be an original copyright term of 28 years and a renewal of 28 more years. The 1976 act increased this. The term of copyright protection would be the author’s life plus 70 years. In the case of song collaboration, the term of protection would be 70 years from the death of the last surviving author. In 1998, Congress passed the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act, adding protection of 20 years to all copyrighted works. The 1909 Copyright Act had conferred common law protection, and the 1976 Copyright Act brought statutory protection. Under the Copyright Extension Act, copyright holders retain their copyright for life plus 70 years. Copyrights are often held by the widow/widower, children, or executors of the author. Support for copyright extensions has come from large corporations, such as the Disney Corporation, which sought to protect and perpetuate their rights to their cartoon characters, such as Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck. Companies that hold lucrative copyrights from works produced in the 1920s did not want to see these songs, scripts, characters, or images fall into the public domain. So they argued for copyright extensions. Music publishing companies most often hold song copyrights. Usually, the music publisher contracts with a songwriter for the song he or she has written. The songwriter will receive a writer’s share in such agreements. The music publisher is responsible for exploiting the song. That is, the publisher seeks to get as many “cuts,” or recordings, of the song as possible. When an artist holds ownership to a song this is called a “controlled composition.” Sometimes a producer will control the music publishing rights for recorded

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songs. Performance fees result from the song being played. Mechanical rights emerge when recordings are sold. Copyright holders hope for continued profits from these copyrights. Proponents of copyright extensions have cited four major reasons for lengthening the term of copyrights: 1. The United States needs to maintain global competitiveness in the intellectual property market. 2. U.S. copyright law should be harmonized with the copyright law of the European Community, under the Berne Convention and other agreements. 3. Authors now live longer than in the past and need this protection. 4. In their view, this is a stimulus to new works.

While copyright holders contend that control over uses of a work is necessary, opponents of copyright claim that copyright extensions hinder the common intellectual heritage and cultural progress. At issue is a clear economic reality: Music copyrights are big business. Publishers and artists assert their copyright because they have created and marketed songs. On the one side, the theft of intellectual property has been cited as “a contributing cause to America’s technological decline.”6 On the other, copyright opponents such as attorney Lawrence Lessig argue that the lack of availability of cultural materials under present copyright law extensions may be diminishing our creative progress as a culture.7 Opponents to the Copyright Extension Act argue that U.S. exports of copyrighted material far exceed that of any other country. They claim that it is not possible to fully harmonize U.S. and European law and point out that Europe tends to follow natural law theory while the United States does not. They ask why any copyright should support two generations of an author’s descendants. Finally, they argue, like law professor Dennis S. Karjala, that “a longer term does not automatically drive creative authors to work harder or longer to produce new works.” Rather, this impedes progress. Songwriters and librettists have to get permissions and licenses before they can adapt scripts into musicals. Some works will never be recorded by new artists because of the cost of licenses that are required for them to sing certain songs. Opponents argue further that the Copyright Term Extension Act is contrary to “the public interest in maintaining a rich public domain.”8 Those who think that copyright term protection should be less than the life of the author plus 70 years have not persuaded Congress. Others, like the late Sonny Bono and country songwriter Pat Alger, have insisted that copyright is a form of ownership and should be held in perpetuity. Mark Twain once wrote: “You might just as well, after you had discovered a coal-mine and worked it for twenty-eight years, have the Government step in and take

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it away.”9 Jack Valenti, Motion Pictures Association of America president at the time of the Sonny Bono Extension Act, supported long-term copyright provisions and suggested the phrase “forever less one day.”10 The Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act went into effect in 1998, not long after the songwriter–performer turned Palm Springs Congressman died in an unfortunate skiing accident. This act of Congress became Public Law 105–298 and extended the term of copyright for 20 years. It effectively stopped all 1920s copyrights from 1923 and afterward from falling into the public domain until at least 2019. Thus, it kept the Gershwin Trust from having to give up some of George and Ira Gershwin’s copyrights, and it saved rights to Mickey Mouse for the Disney Corporation. As a result, as Michael Choate points out, “Happy Birthday to You,” copyrighted in 1935, will likely continue to garner an estimated $2 million or more in royalties until 2030. It will do so even if the BMI representative or the ASCAP man fails to raid your backyard party and ask for a payment. AOL-Time Warner can count on getting at least half of that amount. Some present debates continue to revolve around the 1998 Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act, which added 20 years to the term of copyrights retroactively. This lengthened the term from 50 to 70 years after an author’s death. COPYRIGHT AND DIGITAL MUSIC Copyright has had to adjust to the “digital revolution” in recording that began in the late 1980s. At that time, computers entered recording studios, and the studios began to put away their reel to reels and tape-splicers. They began to set up digital editing programs. Musicians also turned toward sampling. Sampling is the process of “quoting” earlier music by dubbing portions of previously recorded music into newer recordings. Sampling uses the song from that previous recording. With the appearance of digital technology sampling became prevalent. However, sampling may infringe upon the copyright license of the music publisher and upon the mechanical license of the record company. Suddenly, digital technologies began to pose some dilemmas, especially in the area of “mechanical” rights: the rights that are connected with dissemination of sound recordings. With the appearance of the Internet and digital media, companies and individuals with copyright interests sought means for intellectual property rights to be further defined. Individuals who are concerned with issues of fair use and the public domain also point to the genesis of the Digital Millennium Act. On July 7, 1994, a working group for the Clinton administration led by Bruce A. Lehman issued their “green paper”: a green-covered document that stipulated that movie makers and other content providers could charge for uses of their products. It limited the fair-use standards that allowed writers, librarians, scholars, and

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artists to copy a small portion of a work for education, illustration, or documentation purposes. It further recommended that Internet providers be held responsible for what was transmitted over their wires to their customers. The proposal prohibited the making of backup copies of purchased CDs and DVDs. The opposition mounted by Internet providers prompted revisions. Meanwhile, it appears that the movie companies had overlooked the now multimillion dollar business potential of DVD rentals. In September 1995, the final version of the Lehman group’s document appeared under a white cover: the “White Paper.” The reaction to it was immediate. Internet providers rejected the idea of being held liable. Law professors argued that the proposal worked against the public good. The Home Recording Rights Coalition went to work. Library associations cringed at the prospect of having to obtain permissions before making digital copies of works in libraries. In 1996, the proposed legislation stalled. In Congress, Representative Rick Boucher (D-Virginia), an experienced intellectual property attorney representing a rural western district in Virginia, fervently opposed the legislation, to no avail. The World Intellectual Property Treaty enacted legislation that made it so that the Internet providers would not be held liable for what was transmitted over the Internet. The librarians were not so fortunate. The Digital Millennium Copyright Act became law on October 31, 1998.11 It remained a technical violation to make a cassette or CD copy of a CD recording that one already owned. Further, it was illegal to download any song from the Internet, although this was often being done. Such electronic distribution, called “file sharing,” was illegal. The reason for this prohibition was that each of the songs was “owned” by a copyright holder; writers had invested time, thought, musical training, and qualities of talent and creativity into the creation of these songs. Publishers and record companies had invested money to exploit, record, and distribute these songs. However, now recordings were being duplicated by consumers without mechanical licenses from the record companies who owned the masters for these recordings. No performance royalties were being collected and distributed from downloads to the publishers and writers who were the copyright holders of these songs. On December 7, 1999, the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) sued Napster, which claimed some 38 million users worldwide. Napster was charged with damages of $100,000 for each song it had copied and made available. After all, the RIAA argued, no royalties were going to the artists and writers of these songs. In July 2000, a Federal judge issued an injunction to shut Napster down. The idea was put forth to transform Napster into a subscription-based company that would pay artists and companies royalties. The idea did not easily catch on, and Napster folded, selling its assets and its name at auction. In April 2003, Steven Jobs of Apple Computer

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put forth iTunes, a business model that would allow song downloading for 99 cents per song, or $9.99 for an album. This model has since been replicated many times over by other companies. The lawsuits against users of music on the Internet increased in 2003, as music companies sought to protect their profits. Their objective clearly was to educate music listeners that copyrights existed to these songs. A royalty system, handled by the music licensing agencies ASCAP, BMI, or SESAC, was attached to the playing of them. The goal was to make song swapping risky business carrying serious penalties and to encourage consumers to go through legal vendors on the Internet when downloading songs. Sadly, the lawsuits of September 2003 included some people who had likely been ignorant of matters such as performance rights societies, song publishing contracts, and U.S. copyright law. For example, a Duluth, Minnesota, Federal jury fined Jammie Thomas, a mother of four, $222,000 for 24 songs she took from the Kazaa file-sharing program. Some 20,000 people have been sued by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). Most have settled for about $3,000 per song. The RIAA asserts that the lawsuits are intended “to defend the constitutionality of the statutory damages provision of the copyright act.”12 Universal Music Group sued MySpace, the social networking site, in November 2006. YouTube was also named for infringement of Universal Music copyrights. Universal took a stake in it before it was sold to Google for $1.65 billion. In 2006, Warner Music Group entered a court battle with Anywhere CD. Warner Music Group dropped its suit against the Imecon music-sharing site in exchange for a revenue-sharing agreement. Music corporations turn to copyright law to protect their investments. Copyright extension works favorably for music publishers who have commercially successful songs of lasting value. It is the goal of a music publisher to “exploit” copyrights: that is, put them into use in the market. A century ago, this meant distribution of sheet music and piano rolls. Today, it primarily means getting a “cut” on a recording. The copyright owner generally agrees to a standard license to record. This tends to allow for openness as to how the song will be treated in a recording session. However, this is a mechanical license, not a copyright. The copyright itself remains with the music publisher or with the original songwriter. Songwriters and music publishers hold copyrights. Frequently, a music publisher will copyright a song following a contract with its writer or writers. Copyrights may also be purchased by music publishers. Songs that have been popular may be among these acquisitions. When one publisher’s catalog is sold to another publisher, often the copyrights, rather than the company’s stock, are transferred. The buyer usually pays for copyrights at about five to eight times the annual performance rate assigned to those songs, as determined by ASCAP and BMI payments. There are statutory copyrights and common

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law copyrights. Writings that are not fixed in print form or in phonograph recordings are protected by common law copyright. As digital sources, cable television, satellite radio, and other media have emerged, new means of generating revenue from copyrights have appeared. These trends are likely to continue in the future. Amid the vicissitudes of the music business, copyrights remain a valuable investment. COPYRIGHT AS PROTECTION FROM INFRINGEMENT Copyright acts as a form of protection for songwriters and publishers. It guarantees that they have exclusive rights to the use and distribution of these songs. Infringement occurs when someone who is not the copyright holder makes public use of the song without permission. Allegations of copyright infringement have produced several famous legal cases. In November 2007, country singer Toby Keith won an infringement suit that had been filed against Keith by songwriter Michael McCloud, claiming that “I Love This Bar” was like his own song. Keith argued that the individual who filed the suit was trying to make money off of him. Beyoncé’s song “Baby Boy” won a lawsuit by songwriter Jannifer Armour of Minnesota, who said that she had submitted music to Matthew Knowles, president of Music World Entertainment, a company connected with Columbia Records. She alleged that “Baby Boy” was her song “Got a Little Bit of Love for You” and pointed out that the phrase “Every time I close my eyes” appears in both songs. However, on September 21, 2006 a Houston judge, Nancy Atlas, found the songs to be in different keys, tempos, and melodies and “substantially dissimilar.” In one of the most well-known cases, George Harrison’s song “My Sweet Lord” (1970) was found to have “subconsciously” drawn upon Ronald Mack’s “He’s So Fine,” performed by the Chiffons. The court said: “His subconscious knew it already had worked in a song his conscious did not remember.”13 This was a handy piece of psychoanalysis. Of course, one might ask if the case would have been brought if Harrison were not a former Beatle and his song had not been #1 on the charts for four weeks in 1970. In 1994, Michael Bolton and Andy Goldmark’s “Love Is A Wonderful Thing” was found by the Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in California to have shared elements with an Isley Brothers song from their Let’s Go album. Lyric, pitch, musical phrasing, rhythm, and hook were all found to be similar. Thus, $5.4 million was awarded. Bolton and Goldmark sought to overturn the ruling in 1999. The Supreme Court refused to hear the case. Ronald and Marvin Isley have been receiving 66 percent of the song proceeds from royalties and 29 percent of all proceeds from the Bolton album Time, Love, and Tenderness on which the song appeared.14

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In 1994, attorneys for country vocalist Emmylou Harris argued against infringement of her recorded work in Harris v. Emus Records (1984). The 1976 Copyright Act had provided a limitation on the exclusive right to record musical compositions. Mechanical licenses, the law asserted, are in effect when an artist who holds a copyright distributes a recording to the public. In the Harris case, a California court found that the owner of an unlicensed master, who had already issued this, could no longer sell it. Rather, he could only “listen to the master in his own living room” and could make no other use of it.15 Andrew Lloyd Webber spent $2.3 million in legal fees after 1990 to defend against religious folksong writer Ray Repp’s claim that the theme of Webber’s “Phantom of the Opera” was drawn from his song 1978 “Till You.” The U.S. Federal District Court in Manhattan found in favor of Webber.16 These issues of copyright infringement are fairly common in the music business. While in George Harrison’s case infringement was considered “unconscious,” some acts of infringement are clearly willful. When a work is used without obtaining necessary permissions this use is illegal. Further, there are times when someone claims that a work is his or her own original work, and it can be proven to be a copy of another writer’s work. Usually anyone who is charged with such infringement will deny having had access to this copyrighted song. However, if the song has been made available through performance, recordings, Internet distribution, or radio broadcast it is possible to demonstrate access. Some publishers are hesitant to listen to unsolicited new material because of a concern that a songwriter might claim that a published song sounds similar to their own and that the publisher had access to the material. ROYALTIES: MONEY FROM COPYRIGHTS Copyrighted and published music is connected with a performance rights agency. In the United States, there are three of these: ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC. ASCAP collects about $510 million annually for its members, which are publishers and songwriters. About a quarter of this amount derives from foreign sources. BMI collects from $450–500 million annually. SESAC, the smaller performing rights agency, collects about $5 million. Song copyrights that are used in recordings that receive media airplay are eligible for royalties. The performance rights organizations that administer this are a primary source of income for music publishers and songwriters. These organizations track a wide range of music providers from radio stations and television stations to the Internet, hotels, casinos, and concert venues. ASCAP emerged early in the twentieth century as a membership organization that was encouraged by composers such as Victor Herbert. Today,

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Victor Herbert’s piano sits one floor below a winding staircase that leads to the attorneys’ rooms atop the ASCAP building across from Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York. The organization has about 60,000 members, including more than 30,000 music publishers. ASCAP issues a blanket license for its catalog to all radio and television stations. The station’s gross receipts are calculated, and a rate of under 2 percent of the station’s adjusted gross receipts is charged. ASCAP also distributes royalties to songwriters and publishers for online uses of copyrighted and licensed songs. ASCAP has “RateCalc” to help Internet users to figure out their ASCAP licensing fees when online. A basic license and a rate schedule are issued after the inquirer responds to a series of questions. BMI (Broadcast Music, Incorporated) was established in 1940, prompted by the widespread increase in radio. Today, BMI represents more than 3 million copyrighted and published works. Some 140,000 songwriters and 60,000 music publishers have affiliated with this performance rights organization. BMI is a nonprofit organization that works primarily with blanket licenses and has a formula for charges to broadcasters. The BMI Web site has a Hyper Repertoire database for searches for its songs, songwriters, and publishers. It uses “On Ramp” technology services, a Web site that allows direct downloading of songs for fees. SESAC is a good deal smaller. It began as a private licensing company in 1930. The SESAC catalog comprises about 200,000 to 250,000 songs and has about 1,000 affiliated publishers and 1,000 writers connected with the organization. To determine music use charges, SESAC gauges the market population of a radio station and its advertising rates. SESAC also tracks cable television, the Internet, college concerts, hotels, and other places where music is played.17 The largest users of music copyrights are the record corporations that also have affiliated movie companies: Warner/Chappell, SONY/ATV, and Universal Music Group. The interweaving of songs with film and television has become pronounced partly because of the profits that can be generated from performance fees, synchronization fees, and mechanical fees. FAIR USE AND THE PUBLIC DOMAIN Songs written and published before 1922 have entered the public domain. Most songs written after this date remain under copyright, unless their copyright has not been renewed. The public domain consists of compositions that are considered part of the world’s cultural heritage. Educational uses of copyrighted works are governed by a doctrine of “fair use” that some experts say has become attenuated in recent years. Fair use concerns the public’s right to make a reasonable use of a part of a copyrighted

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composition. Fair use only gained force in 1976. Prior to this it was generally recognized that one could include brief passages from published works within criticism, or for educational purposes. A “four-point test” was established in the 1976 U.S. Copyright Law in which nonprofit educational uses were favored. The law stated that one could use such material for criticism and commentary, or for educational purposes, scholarship, and research. A four-point rule held that fair use concerned: (1) the purpose of the use, (2) the nature of the copyrighted material, (3) the portion or amount used in relation to the whole of the work, and (4) the effect on the market for that copyrighted work. Fair use affects musicians, music educators, and those who write about music. There are times when musicians may wish to quote a previous composition within a new song, so he or she may play a riff or hook from it. However, as music business attorney William Krasilovsky notes, the four bar or less rule is a myth. One cannot take four distinctive bars from “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” or “Smoke on the Water” to pay tribute to the Stones or Deep Purple. One must pay for this.18 Musicians who like to play cover tunes are also affected. The larger venues they play in have to be licensed by BMI or ASCAP, and these musicians cannot record their covers without a license through the Harry Fox Agency, usually costing money. For songwriters, there is no “four bar rule” for fair use in including another song within one’s own composition. Rather, what matters is the intended use of the song and this reference. The use of short extracts of melody or harmonic and rhythmic patterns are often viewed by courts as not “fair use.” Educators are likewise affected by fair-use laws. There are guidelines that allow for making a single copy of copyrighted music for music education. Music instructors are permitted to make use of partial excerpts. They can distribute a copy to each student. However, these copies must not exceed 10 percent of the work. So, too, are music arrangers affected by fair use. Arrangements of music from the public domain may be copyrighted. If made with a copyright owner’s consent, arrangements that meet a standard of originality may also be copyrighted. However, usually the musical arrangements made on recordings cannot be copyrighted. Rather, only the underlying song is. Record producers are sometimes involved as arrangers and exert creative influence in recording sessions. Unless a music arranger is connected with the originating writer or publisher or with an affiliated record company he or she will probably not obtain a share in the copyright for a song. These arrangers, instead, receive a payment or salary for their work on a project. Music education is also affected. A musician who copies records for the purpose of learning to play the songs on the record has to be able to show this purpose. This may be possible if the musician is enrolled as a full-time music student. However, many of the best pop and jazz artists are self-taught. Likewise, there are few schools for the study of hip-hop and rap. Musicians

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who copy recordings for study may be hard-pressed by our legal system of copyright to provide evidence of intent if called upon to do so in a court of law. Similarly, musical theater writers are affected by copyright. Rights must be secured before any play or film can be adapted to the stage for a musical. This may discourage some writers and composers from attempting such an adaptation. One cannot insert any copyrighted song into a film or a stage musical without paying mechanical, performance, and synchronization rights. Also, writers who write about music cannot easily quote song lyrics. These uses require permissions. Writing for and obtaining such permissions is a time-consuming process. Often such uses require payment. Our cultural heritage is affected when songs that are still copyrighted fall out of public use. These songs become harder to find. The general public, some argue, tends to lose a bit of its sense of the culture of the 1930s, for example, when most of the songs of that time are out of print and securely hidden away in special collections. HOW TO COPYRIGHT A SONG With the Copyright Act of 1976, all common law works were brought under Federal statutory provisions that became effective on January 1, 1978. The law says that whenever a work has been “fixed” in a tangible form it may be copyrighted. That means if it is on paper, on record, on a disk, or in some other format, it can then be deposited with the Library of Congress and the U.S. Copyright Office. The work does not have to be published. The 1976 Copyright Act provided that there be no requirement for copyright registration. However, such registration is useful to songwriters and music publishers. One may copyright individual songs or collections of several songs, albums, audiovisual material, recordings, remixes of derivative works authorized by copyright holders, and album liner notes. Liner notes that are lengthy may be copyrighted using Form TX (for text). Usually songs are copyrighted using Form PA (performing arts), and recordings are copyrighted using Form SR (sound recording). Copyright claims are registered with the Copyright Office by including a deposit of the work, usually two copies. This may be a recording of a compact disc or a cassette tape, or a printed manuscript copy. This work does not have to be published. However, the deposit should represent “the best edition of the work.” Some 50,000 performing arts works are registered annually. Any recording that is offered for sale and distribution is considered a publication. However, a live performance of a song is not a publication. The work has to be in a tangible, physical form for copyright to be in force. According to the 1976 Copyright Act, musical compositions must be “fixed” in recorded form, or in manuscript form.

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To demonstrate creation and ownership of an unpublished song, songwriters sometimes mail a copy of their song to themselves by registered mail, or in an envelope that they expect will be postmarked by the post office. A formal copyright through the Copyright Office generally provides better protection for the songwriter than this self-mailing method. Copyright registration provides formal recognition and a copyright notice. The U.S. Copyright Office makes available several forms for free. These forms can be obtained on the Copyright Office Web site: (htp://www.loc.gove/ copyright/forms). Form PA is for registering performing arts works. This may include musical works, plays, movies, choreography, and audiovisual materials. The SR form is used for sound recordings. If someone has created a musical, he or she needs to fill out only this form. The TX form is for a nondramatic literary work, like a novel, or a book of lyrics. The VA form is used for visual arts, including record covers, graphics, fine art, photographs, prints, posters, and advertisements. A copyright notice (©) was required for all public copies of a song following the 1976 Copyright Act. In 1988, the United States joined with the international Berne Convention by enacting the Berne Convention Implementation Act. This made the required notice of copyright (©) largely unnecessary. However, music business attorneys continue to advise that copyrighted songs carry the copyright symbol on them. The songs of American composers and lyricists are now protected in all of the countries that have signed the Berne Convention. Interestingly, titles cannot be copyrighted. However, the lyric may embody the title in an important part of the song. The title may also be the title of the album on which the song appears. Any title of this nature must be sufficiently unique for any rights to be asserted. CONCLUSION The future of copyright, many say, will be best promoted through a dialogue between music companies, music artists, and those in sectors of the public who are concerned with fair use and the public domain. In balancing the rights of copyright holders with the needs of artists, educators, and other music users, it appears necessary to reform our present copyright system. In a digital media environment, it is necessary to effectively preserve intellectual property protections and the commercial viability of copyrights. However, it is also important that we broaden the discussion beyond issues of piracy to include reflection upon our common inheritance. We need to remain true to the original purposes of copyright, so that: (1) Creative work will be remunerated and preserved; (2) Creative work can be made increasingly available for creative uses and cultural purposes; and (3) We can build further creative work upon it. In this way, the products of human genius and workmanship can continue to contribute to our cultural memory and to the public good for many generations to come.

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NOTES 1. Mark Rose, Authors, Owners and the Invention of Copyright (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard UP, 1993), p. 142. 2. The purpose for which copyright was designed is to advance the public good. Copyright was originally seen as providing an incentive to creators to contribute their work to the public. Recognizing that ideas and creativity are what advance society in its thinking and feeling, intellectual property law sought a temporary right for artists and inventors to their creations. The law classifies works and works to temporarily exclude uses of the copyright. However, the initial intent of U.S. Copyright law emphasized the “temporary” nature of this exclusive right. It was believed that this would provide an incentive to the writer or artist to create and that the general state of knowledge would be thereby advanced. 3. Thomas Jefferson, Letter to Isaac McPherson, August 13, 1813, cited by Pat Choate in Hot Property: The Stealing of Ideas in the Age of Globalization (New York: Knopf, 2005). 4. Christina N. Gifford, “Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act,” University of Memphis Law Review (Winter 2000). See Web site maintained by Amicus, a group of lawyers opposed, and by Dennis Karjala, Challenge to Constitutionality CTEA at http://homepages.law.asu.edu/dkarjala/OpposingCopyrightExtension/constitution ality.html. 5. For the reasoning of two clear opponents of copyright law as it is currently constructed see Dennis Karjala, “The Term of Copyright,” in Growing Pains: Adapting Copyright for Libraries, Education and Society, ed. Laura Gasaway (Littleton, Colorado: Fred B. Rothman, 1997) and Lawrence Lessig, The Future of Ideas: The Fate of the Commons in a Connected World (New York: Vintage, 2003). 6. Pat Choate, Hot Property, p. 286. 7. Lawrence Lessig, The Future of Ideas (New York: Vintage, 2003), pp. 252–53. 8. Dennis Karjala, “The Term of Copyright,” p. 232. 9. Mark Twain, Arguments Before the Committees on Patents on S. 6330 and H.R. 19853, 59th Congress 116 (1906). 10. Jack Valenti’s comment is cited in Pat Choate, Hot Property. 11. Choate’s discussion in Hot Property of the papers of the Lehman book is particularly informative. 12. Recording Industry Association of America statements about their position can be found on their Web site, http://www.RIAA.com. 13. The case against Beyoncé was dismissed by U.S. Judge Nancy Atlas in Houston District Court on September 21, 2006. The case against Toby Keith by Michael McCloud (aka Michael Snyder) was also dismissed. See Billboard (November 29, 2007). George Harrison’s case was Bright Tunes Music Corp. v. Harrison Music, Ltd. 420 F. Supp. 177 (1976). 14. Michael Bolton’s case was Three Boys Music v. Bolton 97–55150. The Isley Brothers and Pullman Group claimed that Bolton had infringed upon their copyright with his song “Love Is A Wonderful Thing.” 15. M. William Krasilovsky and Sidney Shemel, This Business of Music: The Definitive Guide to the Music Industry, 9th ed. (New York: Billboard Books, 2003), p. 220. 16. Jesse McKinley, “Jury Vindicates Andrew Lloyd Webber,” The New York Times, December 16, 1998. Accessed online August 12, 2008 at http://query.nytimes.com/gst/

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fullpage.html?res=9D0CEEDA123DF935A25751C1A96E958260&scp=1&sq=jury %20vindicates%20andrew%20llyod%20webber&st=cse. 17. Information on the performing rights societies can be obtained from their Web sites, http://www.ASCAP.com, http://www.BMI.com, and http://www.SESAC.com. 18. Krasilovsky and Shemel, This Business of Music, pp. 108–9.

chapter 5

Rock Brands Mike Emery

The Rolling Stones’ “Bigger Bang” tour was the top-grossing tour of 2006 despite the fact that this group has not had a hit single in more than 15 years. That year, another venerable rock act, AC/DC, was ranked number two on Australia’s list of highest grossing entertainers of 2006—second to children’s act The Wiggles and above Oscar-winner Nicole Kidman—even though the group has not released an album or embarked on a full tour since 2000. Even semiactive and defunct rock acts such as KISS, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin are continuing to reach audiences through T-shirts and other merchandise sold at mainstream retail outlets. These veteran rock artists are enjoying continued visibility and commercial success and reaching mass audiences regardless of whether they are actively producing recorded music or performing on stage. Ironically, they may even be enjoying more visibility than many younger, contemporary popular artists. More than anything, these classic rock acts are thriving because they have built successful brands. A brand is defined as any product or service that fosters audience and consumer beliefs by maintaining a consistent identity and offering repeated experiences that are emotionally rewarding.1 Veteran rock artists such as the Stones, KISS, and others have sustained durable brands that are going strong long after their creative and commercial peaks. In this ever-competitive music industry where trends come and go, new artists—particularly groups—can take note of how classic rock brands have survived and continue to attract new audiences. Now more than ever, good branding is vital for new artists and groups. Once upon a time, the earliest records by the Rolling Stones and KISS were not commercially successful. The dynamics of yesteryear’s music industry

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allowed both groups to evolve into top-selling performers and ultimately multimillion dollar brands. Today, however, the music arena is more competitive, and labels (not to mention audiences) are less patient when it comes to second chances. In an age of online digital music purchases and satellite radio, new artists are challenged with making an instant connection with audiences. Even more difficult is maintaining that connection. By understanding effective branding, artists can forge stronger identities that can resonate with publics for years to come. BRAND ANATOMY Daniel M. Jackson contends that a good brand needs more than simply a name. A catchy name paired with a superior product creates the blueprint for a successful brand. He defines a brand as, “Any idea, stemming from a belief that through its consistent identity, experience and the positive emotional investment of stakeholder creates sustainable benefits.”2 While names are strong brand identifiers, logos can also serve as tools for helping connect a brand with its publics, writes Marc Gobe. Gobe cites the IBM logo, a personification of a corporate, business-driven organization, and Apple, Inc.’s logo, which is more human and reflective of the baby boomer generation’s values.3 For a logo to be ultimately effective, it must communicate valid customer experiences. Customer beliefs must be attributed to the actual brand before a logo can convey meaning.4 As Jackson observes, Daryl Travis acknowledges that belief in a brand is conducive to its identity. Brand identity, he writes, exists purely within an audience’s mind and carries specific expectations and promises. Such expectations build audience loyalty, which helps the audience save time during purchase decisions. A familiar name, combined with the expectation of a positive experience, allows an audience or consumer to make an instant purchase decision without comparative research.5 Brands generate belief, Jackson suggests, by asking stakeholders to make a positive emotional investment.6 He cites McDonald’s as an example of a brand that is built on its audience’s beliefs and expectations. The founders of the fast-food franchise promised quality food at low prices and have delivered on this promise. Enhancing this pledge to McDonald’s customers was the fact that all of its locations provided the same services in a similar—if not identical—physical environment. Belief in brands can be defined as an investment of consumers’ emotions, Jackson states. By recognizing belief as an investment, stakeholders are able to identify with the importance of brand belief.7 Matthew W. Ragas and Bolivar Bueno maintain that belief is only one aspect of cultivating a brand. A brand must not only generate belief, but it must inspire individuals to tell others about why it is great.8

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A brand cultivates identities by developing reputations and generating narratives, acknowledges Douglas B. Holt.9 These stories speak to an audience’s desires. Customers value symbolic brands, and they value the stories that are conducive to developing unique brand identities, asserts Holt. Likewise, customers support the brands that personify admirable ideals and help them express their personalities or beliefs. Brands that do this successfully emerge as “iconic brands.” An iconic brand consists of identity myths or simple fictions that address cultural anxieties from worlds other than those in which an audience resides. Such myths involve imaginative aspirations that speak to audiences’ desired identities.10 Any concept or idea that is believable has brand potential, states Jackson.11 Others can embrace a belief held by one person, no matter how innovative or deviant it is. Consistency is the key in sustaining brand belief. Jackson argues that positive beliefs are more often embraced by wide audiences and have had longer survival rates than negative ones. An example is Death cigarettes, which were sold in the United Kingdom in the 1980s. The product acknowledged the health risks associated with smoking. Death ultimately met its demise due to the fact that it perpetuated a negative belief.12 Timelessness also contributes to brand longevity, and when audiences begin to associate certain qualities or characteristics to a brand, it has developed “brand essence.”13 Some brand architects apply unique traits as a means of developing brand identity and as a tool to create “fans” or loyal followers of a brand, stress Ragas and Bueno.14 In addition to being consistent, a brand must be memorable if it is to maintain a long life. While memorable advertising assists in generating brand belief, the brand itself must remain embedded in the public’s memories. Disney has succeeded, through its films and characters, in creating positive memories for children, who then retain these experiences through adulthood.15 When people believe that a particular brand is superior, that belief actually becomes a fact in their minds. A brand can achieve this perception of superiority by effectively proclaiming its authenticity. Claiming legitimacy (such as Cola-Cola’s “the real thing” slogan) often makes a brand credible in the eyes of its audiences. If audiences believe that a brand is credible, they also believe in anything that is said about it.16 BRAND–AUDIENCE INTERACTIONS To sustain veteran rock brands, attention must be placed on reaching ever-changing (and ever-aging) audiences. Once, brands such as The Rolling Stones or KISS focused branding efforts toward teenage markets. Now, brands like these must appeal to fans of all ages. The successful rock brand must cater to the evolving lifestyles of its original audience and acknowledge the fact that its members are no longer youngsters but rather parents or

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grandparents. It also recognizes that this longtime audience now demands a much different concert experience than it did 20 or 30 years ago. With that, artists consistently find new ways of reaching their core fan base while winning over new, younger audiences. Veteran rock brands such as The Rolling Stones have maintained credibility with audiences through their catalog of popular songs. Although The Stones have not charted a hit song in decades (the last was “Mixed Emotions” in 1989), their music is heard daily on rock radio stations. Regardless of their current musical output or chart standings, The Rolling Stones were the highest grossing touring act of 2006. Not surprisingly, the group’s October 22, 2006, performance in Austin, Texas, only featured two new songs in the setlist. While die-hard devotees often appreciate new material from a popular brand, general audiences are more interested in its past hits, says popular culture researcher Joe Kotarba. A well-established rock brand does not depend on new material to keep it viable in the marketplace. Classic material meets audience expectations, he adds. The older songs appeal to younger audiences because they have heard this material on the radio, in film soundtracks, or on television. For audiences who grew up with these songs, however, yesteryear’s classics can symbolize both the artist’s longevity in the world as well as their own. Kotarba cites his recent experiences seeing Paul McCartney perform in Houston, Texas, to illustrate his point: Someone like Paul McCartney can reach way back into his catalog and play the old Beatles’ songs. This music can speak to the people who listened to this music in the 1960s. Basically, it tells them “we’ve been through a lot, and it’s still great.” Hearing a 30 or 40 year old song doesn’t make people feel so old. Instead, it actually rejuvenates them.17

Of course, there comes a time when artists tire of performing the same material night after night, year after year. They then decide to offer a newer product, which often results in mixed emotions from its audiences. In recent years, Bruce Springsteen embarked on two tours that featured all new material and few of the songs that propelled him into the public’s consciousness. His 2005 “Devils and Dust” tour was a largely acoustic affair that featured music from the album of the same title. Meanwhile, the 2006 “Seeger Sessions” tour featured the prolific performer embracing his folk and Americana roots. In both cases, ticket sales were sluggish for a performer who could easily sell out arenas playing his classic hits. David Bowie decided to publicly retire his catalog of classics on his “Sound and Vision” tour in 1993. Two years later, the singer would embark on the “Outside” tour featuring a new sound and only including a handful of past hits. Attendance suffered, and the U.S. leg of the tour never was completed.

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During Bowie’s 2004 tour, the artist quietly “un-retired” his hits from live performance to the approval of his fan base. Once a brand is established, it can be difficult if not impossible to escape from performing the hits of yesteryear. Some artists may not want to play the same old songs night after night, but they realize it’s what the fans have paid to hear. Just ask Motorhead vocalist and bassist Lemmy Kilmister. In his autobiography, White Line Fever, he acknowledges audiences wanting to hear classic material including his band’s signature tune, “Ace of Spades,” a track that grates on his patience. The kids want to hear the old stuff. I mean, if I go to see Little Richard, I want to hear “Long Tall Sally,” and if I don’t I’m going to be thoroughly pissed off. Even though I’m sick to death of it, Motorhead should do “Ace of Spades,” and you can’t fight that. To refuse to play it—or those other tunes—is very bad news.18

Performing popular material during concerts is one way artists connect with audiences to maintain brand belief, but the actual concert experience also strengthens brand–audience bonds, Kotarba says. Concerts are often more than a performance. They foster an environment where fans often dress and behave in ways they would not ordinarily do at home or in the office. They can offer time away from responsibilities, an escape from one’s day-to-day routine. Likewise, concerts provide audiences with a celebratory atmosphere, one where music enthusiasts come together for the purpose of sheer revelry and the enjoyment of particular artists. Of course, the level of revelry and enjoyment varies from brand to brand. An audience at a Paul McCartney concert will behave far different than one attending a Rolling Stones show. While a McCartney concert might be perfect for a relaxing date with one’s spouse, a Stones’ concert is the kind of experience that is shared with a group of friends for the party, says Kotarba. “It is all dependent on the brand. When you think of McCartney, you think of this guy who is one of the greatest living pop music composers. He is a revered figure, so the concert experience will be fun but not wild. The Stones, however, have built a brand around being ‘bad boys.’ Never mind that these guys are grandparents now, audiences still look at them as the rebels, so the concert experience will be decidedly more energetic.”19 Just as most people know what to expect when opening a can of Coca-Cola, many will know what to expect from a Paul McCartney or Stones show. The Stones, in particular, have taken great strides in preserving the spectacular and wild nature of their concerts. For much of their career, the group’s concerts have been large productions often featuring fireworks and special effects. This has been the case since The Rolling Stones’ 1975 tour, which featured a lotus-shaped stage and had outrageous effects such as a

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giant inflatable penis. During its October 22, 2006, performance in Zilker Park in Austin, Texas, the penis was gone, and in its place was a giant pair of inflatable lips—The Stones’ logo—and instead of the lotus, a mammoth stage with towers and large video monitors provided the 42,000 fans in attendance a view of the band’s every movement. The concert was as much a spectacle as it was a musical performance. Neither McCartney nor the Stones initially set out to deliver the kinds of concerts they currently do. Music was at the heart of their creative agendas at the start of their careers. After decades of cultivating brand images, they have effectively crafted live shows that consistently appeal to audiences each time they tour. Other artists, however, have always focused their brands around the live concert experience. Take KISS for example. The group’s bombastic, loud rock was essential in developing its brand but even more so was creating a rock show unlike fans had ever seen. During the 1970s, the group’s concerts became a staple of its brand thanks to intricate costumes, theatrical make-up, and special effects. The audience itself became almost as entertaining as the stage show as fans attended performances in make-up and costume making each affair similar to a masquerade party. This environment was a defining element of the KISS brand and made each concert appearance a must-see experience. During the group’s 2004 “Rock the Nation” tour, the elements that define KISS concerts were still in place (although some of the band members were different), and fans young and old showed up in KISS make-up and regalia. To make the concert experience even more memorable, however, KISS offered fans an opportunity to purchase VIP packages. On the 2005 KISS concert DVD Rock the Nation Live, a segment focuses on fans that purchased these VIP packages during the group’s 2004 tour. Fans are shown meeting the members of KISS during these backstage meet-and-greet sessions. On the DVD, these fans discuss their gratitude to KISS for the years of entertainment it has provided. During these scenes, singer/guitarist Paul Stanley acknowledges that these interactions are particularly important for understanding the brand’s current audience. Those fans pay hard-earned money to come see us, and it’s up to us to make sure that we live up to those expectations. It’s important to know where they’re from, their history, what they like about the band, what they’re feeling about the show. This is a way to stay in tune with the people who keep you in the position you’re in.20

In an article titled “Branding on the Internet,” Helena Rubenstein writes that a brand-audience relationship depends on a dialogue.21 Once, brands spoke to audiences with no feedback. As with KISS, live dialogue can be facilitated for a price, but lesser-known brands will communicate with their constituencies at no charge.

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This was the case when L.A. Guns took time to meet fans following its August 21, 2005, performance at the Sunken Gardens Amphitheatre in San Antonio, Texas. Another former radio staple Faster Pussycat did the same following its August 16, 2006, appearance in the Meridian nightclub in Houston, Texas. Rock vocalist Eddie Money makes himself available to fans for autographs and photos following performances as he did at ArrowFest— an annual outdoor festival in Woodlands, Texas, featuring veteran rock brands—on October 14, 2006. Rubenstein indicates, however, the Internet is becoming more important than ever for brand–audience interactions. Once, brands spoke to audiences with no feedback. Now, the Internet allows audiences to respond to brands. Many rock brands’ Web sites contain message boards or forums that allow fans a chance to pose questions directly to the artist or to engage in dialogues with other fans. In the case of L.A. Guns, its members often respond to fans’ questions themselves, or they post messages regarding tours, products, or other topics. The official KISS Web site (www.KISSonline.com) has a section titled “Ask KISS,” where members of the band answer fans’ questions. Others, such as The Rolling Stones official Web site (www.rollingstones.com), have online forums devoted to tour performances in which fans can post reviews of recent performances. The Internet also serves as a marketing device that brands can use to proactively connect with audiences. Song downloads available on brands’ sites help motivate purchasing decisions of audiences by allowing them to preview sections of songs from upcoming recorded material. In addition to offering product previews, the Internet helps brands communicate new product offerings to audiences. The Rolling Stones, for example, reach audiences through extensive electronic mailing lists. Fans that register with The Stones’ Web site receive regular e-mail notices regarding upcoming performance dates, ticket sales, and available merchandise. Online communication has been integral to twenty-first-century branding.22 Brands now have the opportunity to build and maintain relationships with their most crucial stakeholders through dialogue and instant communication 24 hours a day. LOGOS AS BRANDING TOOLS Effective logos can bolster a brand’s visibility, as well as its longevity. Just as rock brands use artist–fan interactions to reach audiences, they also reach desired audiences through the consistent use of logos. As indicated in the following case studies of Motorhead, The Rolling Stones, AC/DC, and KISS, consistent logos define brand essence, build brand loyalty, create new markets, and are employed as key identifiers. In the article “Grow Your Logo into a Brand,” Jerome D. Smith writes that a logo can become the sum of a brand’s vision, values, characteristics,

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and attributes.23 One particular rock logo that has captured these elements of its brand is Motorhead’s “Snaggletooth.” In its original rendition or in its variations, its vicious visage indicates to neophytes that the rock trio’s sound is traditionally hard, raw, and abrasive. For longtime fans, it’s a reminder of the group’s penchant for lyrical subject matter focused on war, sex, and outlaw activities. The image also matches the band members’ nonglamorous, no frills image, particularly that of lead vocalist and bassist Lemmy Kilmister. With his trademark moustache, rough voice, and rugged exterior (large warts protrude from his left cheek), Kilmister is an unlikely rock idol. Since forming the band in 1975, Kilmister has fostered a tough image to match Motorhead’s coarse, hard rock sound. Kilmister was formerly associated with the psychedelic hippie music of the late 1960s and early 1970s, having played with the free-spirited group Hawkwind. Soon after forming Motorhead, Kilmister painted his multicolored amplifiers a flat black and adorned them with silver skulls. Musically, the Motorhead sound was a harsh counterpoint to the peace and love generation. Kilmister summed up this sonic attitude by telling the press, “If we moved in next door, your lawn would die.”24 Fans agreed. A readers’ poll in Britain’s Sounds magazine named the band as “the best worst band in the world.”25 Joe Petagno designed “Snaggletooth,” which made its first appearance on the band’s self-titled album in 1977. He also continues to illustrate album covers for Motorhead. The “Snaggletooth” image is an integral part of the Motorhead brand, he says: You can’t imagine Motorhead without the logo. The logo is Motorhead, and it will probably outlast the music by decades. Everything before “Snaggletooth” was wishy–washy nonsense left over from the 1960s. When “Snaggletooth” popped up on the scene, the world was astonished at the in-your-face brutal truth that the logo as well as the music and lyrics depicted. Gone forever was the illusion that “all you need is love.” “Snaggletooth” signaled the end of peace, love and happiness and the beginning of war, hate, and greed. It was genuinely a scary picture of the era’s state of affairs and was years ahead of it’s time.26

The ferocious-looking symbol (a metallic, horned, fanged animal skull with chains dangling from its face accompanied by the Motorhead name in gothic typeface) has been featured prominently and in different forms on 18 of the band’s 24 albums (the typeface, however, appears on all 24 albums). The “Snaggletooth” image also adorns a stage backdrop used during performances and on drummer Mikkey Dee’s drum kit. It is also the primary image on the band’s Web site, www.imotorhead.com, and is featured on the band’s merchandise. “Snaggletooth” items include shirts, jackets, caps, and other accessories. In fact, 19 of the 22 T-shirts sold on www.imotorhead.com feature “Snaggletooth.”

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The band’s Web site also features a section titled “Motorhead for Life” that features several photographs of many fans who have had “Snaggletooth” tattooed on their bodies. Some are modest works adorning their arms or legs (sometimes both), but many are intricate illustrations covering fans’ backs, chests, and stomachs. Such measures undoubtedly reflect a lasting loyalty to the Motorhead brand, particularly its logo. Such loyalty to a brand’s logo is not uncommon, says sociologist and rock music researcher Sonia Vasan. She has examined the subcultural aspects of rock music, particularly the hard rock or heavy metal genres. Through ethnographic studies, she found that the art and logos connected to these genres resonate more with this fan base. Logos, she says, contribute to identity formation for both audiences and artists. For audiences, in particular, logos allow them to vicariously experience the imagery and music of artists. Likewise, logos contribute to the subculture associated with heavy metal by offering audiences labels they can use to distance themselves from the mainstream culture.27 Not all audiences accept a brand’s logo as a means for identity formation. In many instances, however, audiences are drawn to rock brands’ logos because they are viewed as fashionable. The Rolling Stones classic “Lips/Tongue” logo has become familiar to audiences of all ages through its increased presence on T-shirts and other merchandise that are available at mainstream outlets such as Kohls, JCPenney, and Target. In addition to this output, merchandise is available through the band’s official Web site, www.rollingstones. com. Jerome D. Smith and Lauren McMullen write that logos can create new business and capture new market shares.28 For The Rolling Stones, its “Lips/Tongue” logo has generated new business in the form of fashion wear, and it is reaching new markets through the availability of such clothing at mainstream shopping outlets. For many years, the only place to obtain Rolling Stones merchandise was by purchasing it at concerts or ordering it from specialty outlets. Now, anyone can wear a Rolling Stones tour shirt without attending a performance. During The Rolling Stones October 2006 appearance in Austin, Texas, a majority of the 42,000 fans in attendance were clad in T-shirts and baseball caps boasting different variations of the “Lips/Tongue” logo. Fans wearing attire with this logo ranged from adolescents to senior citizens. James Garden, rock author and logo designer, says that contemporary audiences are often drawn to rock brands as a result of their logos and that music is by no means the sole motivator in these audiences’ purchase decisions: Everybody recognizes The Rolling Stones logo, regardless of whether they are a fan of the band or not. T-shirts with the logo advertise the band while serving as a fashion accessory. Many artists that are currently not on the charts or on tour will still sell merchandise, because they have a

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logo that looks good on a shirt and it becomes cool. A classic example is AC/DC. They are never in the charts, and haven’t released a new album for several years, but they still sell T-shirts. A friend of mine bought one because he loved the design. He listens to rap and hip-hop and had no idea they were a band.29

There is no exact science when designing a logo that is destined to become a brand’s calling card. Gerard Huerta designed the AC/DC logo for the cover of its 1978 album Let There Be Rock. Using a gothic typeface similar to that found in Gutenberg’s Bible, Huerta created a font to match the album’s semi-Biblical title. Since its introduction, Huerta’s AC/DC logo has been used on 17 album covers in addition to merchandise and marketing materials. The artist had no idea that it would be used over and over again. He attributes its success to the popularity of the brand and its consistent presence: It is difficult to know why one logo over another has such lasting impact. In this case, there are two reasons: its long-term usage and the popularity of the band. I really am perplexed about this, as it was really just some lettering designed for one album cover. It must have struck a chord with AC/DC as it was picked up for future albums.30

Huerta’s experience with logos extends far beyond the realm of designing those used on album covers. A veteran designer, he has designed mastheads for magazines such as People, Time, Architectural Digest, AdWeek, and several others. He’s designed covers for publications such as Newsweek, posters for films such as Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, and logos for sporting events such as Super Bowl XXXV. Sharp design and consistent visibility are conducive to a logo’s effectiveness, he says: It is a combination of design and usage that gives a logo the value for identity. One without the other doesn’t work. Hopefully, uniqueness in the design will help people remember it. I think that long-term usage of any logo can assist in the identity and brand of a group.31

Design and consistent usage has paid off for another logo that has become synonymous with a rock brand. The KISS logo, designed by the band’s original guitarist, Ace Frehley, resembles a comic book masthead. In place of the letter “S,” he created a zigzagging character that resembled lightning bolts. The super heroic logo was a perfect match for the KISS image, which consisted of musicians wearing theatrical make-up and outlandish costumes. The logo has been present on every single KISS album since its self-titled release in 1973. Additionally, it has factored into the group’s live performances, which became an anchor of the KISS brand. KISS concerts have

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always been filled with special effects including smoke, fireworks, and explosions. An enlarged, illuminated logo has always served as a flashy backdrop to fuel the already frenzied atmosphere of their shows. Additionally, the logo has also adorned the drum kits of the band’s different drummers: Peter Criss, Eric Carr, and Eric Singer. Garden cites the KISS logo as one that is crucial to defining its brand’s identity: A recurring logo is extremely important for a band’s identity. A logo needs to be recognizable enough for a person to see it and immediately picture the band. One of the best examples is KISS’ logo. It alone on a T-shirt immediately catches the eye, looks good, and gets KISS into people’s minds. When they toured in the 1970s, they played in front of a huge version of the logo, and that immediately became as important to the brand as its make-up.32

During the 1980s, the KISS brand endured personnel and image changes (most notably, the removal of the make-up, which would be brought back in 1996). Maintaining its traditional sound and dynamic concert performances would keep the KISS brand alive and thriving. The logo also would continue to factor into KISS branding efforts and remain on all merchandise and as part of the stage effects during performances. Despite all of the personnel and image changes in the 1980s, the consistent use of the logo helped reinforce the fact that two of the KISS brand’s strongest assets still were in place: music and live concerts. According to Smith and McMullen, logos grow from representing a brand to defining expectations. The consistent use of marketing vehicles such as logos is key in bolstering the expectations of a brand’s goods and services.33 The recurring use of this logo indicated that the KISS brand remained a reliable source of hard rock and concerts filled with elaborate stages and effects. SUSTAINING A BRAND WITH NEW ARTISTIC PERSONNEL As with corporate entities, employees come and go. This also happens in the world of rock groups. So, what happens when a popular guitarist or bassist departs an established brand? For some brands, replacing members is only a minor obstacle in maintaining a brand. Take KISS for example. The group has had five different lead guitarists and three different drummers in its 35-year history; yet, its brand continues to thrive. With its members in face make-up and costumes, KISS originally built its brand on four distinct fantasy-based personalities: the rock star, the demon, the spaceman, and the catman. The original spaceman, Ace Frehley, and the original catman, Peter Criss, left the band separately in the early 1980s and again in 2002 following a reunion of original KISS members. Currently, replacements

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Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer now respectively portray the spaceman and catman alongside KISS founders Paul Stanley (rock star) and Gene Simmons (demon). Some fans have resisted the notion of having replacements in KISS. On the Web site, KISSin’ UK (www.KISSinuk.com), a message board contains fan dialogue regarding Thayer’s role in the band. One fan admitted that he did not accept Thayer as a member of KISS, indicating that his presence made the current incarnation seem like a tribute act. Another fan’s response argued that having KISS with replacement musicians is better than not having the brand around at all. “KISS is KISS, and, I’ll not be complaining when they tour,” says the fan.34 KISS is only one of many veteran rock brands that faced changes in its artistic personnel. Journey and Styx, among others, are sustaining brand belief with new faces on stage. Both brands remain popular touring attractions. Journey’s recent tour, in fact, was ranked in the top 20 of 2006 tours by the concert trade publication Pollstar. The Journey brand continues although its members’ names and faces have changed, including the temporary addition of new vocalist Jeff Scott Soto, who was recruited shortly after the 2006 tour began. Former Journey drummer Steve Smith says that when a rock brand is well-established, the music is what matters most. As long as the Journey brand delivers the music that made it successful, audiences will be satisfied: The new group carries on the sound that was created during the years of the original Journey’s creative peak. At this point, it is keeping the music alive by touring and is continuing to develop new fans. This is good for the catalogue and the longevity of the music. The fans don’t seem to be interested in new material. They want to hear the hits.35

Kotarba agrees. He says that brands consisting of ensembles rather than individuals, such as Van Morrison or Paul McCartney, are often remembered for their music rather than for their artistic personnel. “People know the songs but they don’t know the players,” he says. “Fans want more of a jukebox experience. They want the hits.”36 KISS’s fourth guitarist Bruce Kulick acknowledges that his status as a nonoriginal member of the group was overshadowed by the music he performed on stage. Kulick joined KISS following the dismissal of two previous guitarists within two years. “I’m not sure fans even knew who I was,” he says. “They may not even know who’s in the band now.”37 Still, while a rock brand must deliver its classic material during performances to appease audiences, key dominant artistic personnel must be present, says Jeb Wright, rock historian and editor of online magazine Classic Rock Revisited. Without a few of a brand’s principal artists on stage, credibility will be lost:

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Now, one must ask if Tommy Shaw left Styx or Gene Simmons left KISS or Neal Schon left Journey would they be able to sell live shows at the capacity they are currently selling them at? The answer is no. While Journey’s original vocalist Steve Perry is absent and Styx does not have its original vocalist Dennis DeYoung a large majority of the fans will stick around as half a team is better than none, but if all key members are gone then you will not see anyone flocking to the show.38

Personnel transitions are commonplace among veteran rock brands, but for younger brands, such changes can present more extreme challenges. In 1981, the Motorhead brand had just begun to enjoy commercial success when its guitarist Eddie Clarke departed. Although the brand was focused on its founder, bassist, and vocalist Lemmy Kilmister, Clarke’s replacement, Brian Robertson, became a disruption in Motorhead, and audiences’ expectations were not met. In his autobiography White Line Fever, Kilmister discusses the challenges of maintaining the Motorhead brand with Robertson as the group’s guitarist. Kilmister recollects Motorhead’s album Another Perfect Day, the first recording with Robertson. The album was a departure from the signature Motorhead sound and offered a more refined, somewhat commercialized sound. Kilmister himself speaks highly of Robertson’s abilities and Another Perfect Day but admits that both seemed to be detrimental to the brand, as fans disliked the record, criticizing its commercial leanings.39 In addition to presenting fans with a Motorhead album that diverted from the group’s traditional formula, the brand wasn’t delivering its previous hits (including its signature hit “Ace of Spades”) while on tour. This, writes Kilmister, was a result of Robertson’s influence. Compounding the problems of new musical direction and not playing the band’s older material was Robertson’s stage presence, which deviated from Motorhead’s black leather and denim image. In his book, Kilmister discusses Robertson’s increasingly distracting stage attire: Brian’s fashion sense continued to shock and horrify fans throughout our tour of Europe at the end of the year. Let’s face it, ballet shoes and Motorhead do not mix! He stood out like a sore thumb, and I guess that’s what he wanted. On our last tour with him, he was wearing what looked like sweat pants, only they were made out of gabardine, and he had them tied up at the bottom with two strips of old, white towel. He was just being awkward for the sake of it.40

Robertson would eventually be fired from Motorhead. Although other eccentric musicians would enter and exit the ranks of Motorhead, there would be no further deviation from the brand’s musical formula, image, or stage presence. The current line-up includes Kilmister, guitarist Phil Campbell,

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and drummer Mikkey Dee. It is the longest lasting version of the 35-year old Motorhead brand to date. Still, Motorhead ultimately revolves around Kilmister. Janiss Garza, rock critic and Kilmister’s co-author on White Line Fever, explains why, without Kilmister, there is no Motorhead. She also points out that multiple changes in personnel have factored into the brand: Lemmy is the one who has sparked the loyalty. A lot of people from the very old days still do miss Eddie Clarke, but the bottom line is that Lemmy is the one who does most of the press and spouts off all the opinions. Because the line-up changes have involved getting new members who are quirky characters in the Motorhead mold, it’s stayed consistent with what Motorhead is about. But Lemmy is the main songwriter in the band. It’s clearly one voice that has carried on from album to album. Yes, the other guys have contributed musically, and I know Phil Campbell is a strong writer in his own right, but it all boils down to the Motorhead vibe, which boils down to Lemmy.41

CONSISTENCY IS KEY Meeting audience expectations is key in maintaining a successful and visible rock brand. This has indeed been the case for the classic rock brands discussed in this chapter and will very well be the case for newer, younger artists as well. Audiences do not want to be surprised by a brand. The Rolling Stones could very well conduct a tour in which they played stripped-down blues standards and none of their hits. Still, one must ask if ticket sales would be as strong as they are during a standard, hit-filled Stones tour? The examples posed by Springsteen and Bowie indicate that established brands must invest time and energy in performing the music that made them household names if they are to sell concert tickets. The true artist will no doubt be horrified by this fact. Being held hostage to one’s past glory is frustrating for artists as evidenced by Kilmister’s disdain for his band’s signature hit “Ace of Spades.” Still, a brand must put its audience well above artistic integrity if it is to survive. Because brands such as the Stones, Motorhead, Bowie, and Springsteen have become institutions (at varying levels of commercial success) in the rock world, many audiences do not see their catalogs growing beyond the hits of yesteryear. In fact, most general audiences are likely to purchase a greatest hits package rather than a new product. Again, this is no doubt frustrating for artists who seek to create new works and not rest on the laurels of past glories. Still, the goal is to make the fans happy. The hits define the brand. New material appeases the loyalists while the general audience might head to the concession stand when it’s performed live. Rock brands must maintain a certain visual appeal as well as maintain its audio integrity. Not every successful rock brand has a logo, but many do.

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From the most popular examples (Stones, KISS) to lesser-known but consistently used designs (Motorhead), logos are key identifiers for rock brands. Additionally, they form associations between the brand and its persona. KISS’s logo complements its garish, cartoon-like stage presence, and its jagged “S” design helps define its brand of heavy metal. Likewise, the Stones’ Lips/ Tongue design reflects the brand’s raunchy, sexy appeal. The power of logos extends beyond its definition of the artists and their music. Timeless rock logos can become fashionable whether they are on apparel or other merchandise. Stones and AC/DC T-shirts are worn by audiences of all ages. Often times, the person wearing the logo has no idea that it’s even connected with a brand. Through strategic placement of their logos, many brands, particularly KISS, have extended the use of these identifiers into live performances. The logo—as used on stage, in special effects, or on drum kits—contributes not only to an audience’s expectations, but to its experience when seeing the brand perform live. Sometimes, a logo’s design is strategic, as the case with Motorhead. The artist created an image to complement the caustic sound and image that the band favored. In other instances, such as the AC/DC logo, the design may be rendered as a one-time marketing piece then adopted for future use. Artists designing these logos are both professional designers—such as Gerard Huerta, designer of AC/DC’s logo—or simply an artistic band member such as KISS guitarist Ace Frehley. In both cases, there was no marketing science employed in the design of these successful logos. Repetition bred familiarity among the fans, which led to widespread recognition by general audiences. Ironically, logos are more permanent aspects of brands than some artists are. In many rock groups, members come and go, which can impact a brand. When a popular member leaves, his/her replacement might not be received as warmly by audiences. As shown in the Motorhead case study from the early 1980s, a new personality in a relatively young brand can impact audiences’ beliefs and expectations. Additionally, the new face in the group also might have an impact on the group’s creative output as Robertson did on Motorhead’s. As Kilmister explained, the group’s previously stripped-down sound became polished, which alienated devotees. Likewise, his stage presence did not jive with the Motorhead image. After one album and one tour, he was sacked. As recently seen in contemporary veteran brands such as KISS and Journey, however, audiences can accept replacement personnel for the sake of keeping the brand intact. Of course, it helps when the brand’s primary creative team or charismatic members still remain. KISS can still be KISS as long as vocalists Stanley and Simmons are present. Accordingly, the Stones continue to tour (for now), and KISS continues to release new merchandise (predominately archival DVD footage, clothing). What can new artists learn

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from these veterans that continue to thrive when so many others have retired from the music industry? In a word, consistency. These brands and many others have remained fairly unswerving in terms of music, performances, logo usage, and in retaining key personnel. The saying “change is good” does not always apply to successful brands. Simply, revisit the NEW Coke fiasco of the 1980s as a perfect example. Consistency is certainly key for contemporary rock brands because they must now contend with audiences who have little patience for disappointment and more options for instant entertainment. Now more than ever, it’s crucial that new rock brands meet audiences’ expectations. Thanks to digital technology, buying music is a little like purchasing fast food. In fact, it’s almost priced like fast food at 99 cents a song. Regardless of the cost, music is often purchased for use on mobile devices (iPods, phones, mp3 players) and used on-the-go. Think about what happens when you cruise through your preferred hamburger chain’s drive-thru line, place an order, then discover when you’re home that an unfavorable recipe change has been made on your favorite sandwich. Your expectations of this chain are dampened. The same scenario holds true for the fan of a contemporary rock brand, who buys several new tracks, then discovers during an hour-long commute that the group sounds nothing like it did on its previous record. Of course, he could have previewed them, but because he’s a fan, why should he? He knows what his favorite artist sounds like. Or, at least he thought he did. Just as there are other fast-food chains to choose from, there are plenty of rock brands (both new and classic) to explore as well. Locking in with audience’s needs will keep them coming back for more. As evidenced by The Rolling Stones’ 2006 ticket sales, people stick with a proven commodity. New rock brands, however, are challenged with proving themselves again and again before truly connecting with a long-term audience. NOTES 1. Jackson, Daniel M. 2003. Sonic Branding. New York: Palgrave, 86. 2. Jackson, 51. 3. Gobe, Marc. 2001. Emotional Branding. New York: Allworth, 131. 4. Holt, Douglas. 2004. How Brands Become Icons. Boston: Harvard Business Press, 211. 5. Jackson, 80. 6. Jackson, 63. 7. Jackson, 68. 8. Ragas, Matthew W., and Bolivar Bueno. 2002. The Power of Cult Branding. California: Prima Venture, xxix. 9. Holt, 211. 10. Holt, 211.

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11. Jackson, 80. 12. Jackson, 80. 13. Holt, 211. 14. Ragas and Bueno, 2. 15. Jackson, 90. 16. Kotarba, Joseph, interview with author, Houston, Texas, September 2006. 17. Kotarba, interview. 18. Kilmister, Lemmy, and Janiss Garza. 2004. White Line Fever. New York: Citadel, 168. 19. Kotarba, interview. 20. KISS: Rock the Nation Live, dir. Jonathan Beswick, 136 min., Image Entertainment, 2005, DVD. 21. Rubenstein, Helena. 2002. “Branding on the Internet.” All About Branding (March). http://www.allaboutbranding.com/index.lasso?article=175 (accessed January 2007). 22. Ibid. 23. Smith, Jerome D., and Lauren McMullen. 2002. “Grow Your Logo Into A Brand,” From BrandEvolve Web site. January 1, 2002, n.p. http://www.brandevolve.com/news/ wp_growyourlogo.php (accessed August 10, 2008). 24. Kilmister and Garza, 98. 25. Kilmister and Garza, 101. 26. Petagno, Joe, interview with author, e-mail, August 2006. 27. Vasan, Sonia, interview with author, e-mail, August 2006. 28. Smith and McMullen, n.p. 29. Garden, James, interview with author, e-mail, Houston, Texas, January 2007. 30. Huerta, Gerard, interview with author, e-mail, Houston, Texas, September 2007. 31. Huerta, interview. 32. Garden, interview. 33. Smith and McMullen, n.p. 34. KISSinUk.com, http://www.KISSinuk.com/bb/? (accessed December 22, 2006). 35. Smith, Steve, interview with author, e-mail, Houston, Texas, September 2007. 36. Kotarba, interview. 37. Kulick, Bruce, interview with author, e-mail, Houston, Texas, October 2006. 38. Wright, Jeb, interview with author, e-mail, Houston, Texas, February 2007. 39. Kilmister and Garza, 167. 40. Kilmister and Garza, 167. 41. Garza, Janiss, interview with author, e-mail, Houston, Texas, January 2007.

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chapter 6

Mapping the Territory: Cultural Authenticity in World Music Amy M. Corey

Music has the ability to both transport and inspire. In world music specifically, listeners can explore the lands and cultures of the globe through sound. We can climb the Andes Mountains, sail the South Pacific Sea, or trek through the Arabian Desert. As world music invokes remote locations, it also calls forth ideas of exotic instruments and foreign cultures. World music can provide listeners with a sense of cultures and lifestyles far removed from their own experiences. This picture of world music is but one snapshot and, most notably, is taken from a Western point of view. Instead of invoking a form of imperialist nostalgia, exploring world music from an American perspective must immediately acknowledge not only context but also privilege. Because I take both context and privilege as both given and accountable, my journey through world music is a challenging one. Rather than simply mapping the cultural territory of distant lands, the journey through world music is one that must traverse power, economy, and ideology. Itself, world music is a problematic category. It accommodates various forms of music from different geographical regions. The category specifically refers to forms of ethnic and folk music with strong ties to local, regional, or even national sounds. As a form of folk culture, it can be defined as the musical and artistic expression of a given group of people and is thought to convey something about a unique way of life within a local community. Furthermore, folk music is regarded as “music of the common people that has been passed on by memorization or repetition rather than by writing, and has deep roots in its own culture.”1 Because the whole of folk culture was originally rooted in oral traditions, rather than in mediated or technological contexts, it is perceived

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as an “authentic” cultural expression. Authenticity refers to the qualities of genuineness and legitimacy in original forms of culture. In this way, folk music is regarded as pure culture as it remains essential and untouched. Most notably, it remains untainted by the interventions of the mass production technologies of the culture industry. The culture industry, as conceptualized by Theodor Adorno, refers to the ways in which the processes of mass production and mass consumption forever alter the artistic value and inherent integrity of cultural forms.2 Through production technologies, music itself becomes formulaic and standardized. Consequently, “culture has become openly, and defiantly, an industry obeying the same rules of production as any other producer of commodities.”3 In this way, the production of a musical product, such as a song or album, is indistinct from the manufacture of an automobile or a bar of soap because “culture now impresses the same stamp on everything” that is mass-produced.4 In this view, standardized production also results in standardized consumption, bringing with it the dangers of “regressive listening” in which listeners are distracted from fulfilling their “true needs” such as autonomy and creativity through their consumption of popular music. The danger lies not only in commodifying musical forms, but also in its numbing effects on listeners. In other words, through standardization and mass production, the culture industry threatens to debase and trivialize music itself as well as those who listen to it. However, because world music is tied to local and ethnic cultures, it seems to retain a certain degree of distance from the mainstream popular music of the culture industry. In fact, it is often defined in opposition to popular music. Specifically, world music is regarded “as an authentic, self-driven collective expression . . . [ positioned] against music as commodity or industry product.”5 Through a perceived distance, world music retains a sense of purity, and its genuine cultural expressions are positioned outside of the mainstream. This distinction, however, is highly problematic within the current phase of capitalist production, distribution, and consumption of world music. For instance, On the one hand, music is a primary form of artistic expression; since the dawn of civilisation, music has been one of the most significant means by which cultures have defined themselves. On the other hand, in the contemporary world, music is a relentlessly commercial industry generating billions of dollars in revenues for composers, performers, publishers, record companies, and many other players. This paradox is sometimes represented as a contradiction—creativity versus commercialism, the muse versus the market, culture versus economics—whereby the two forces must inevitably pull in opposite directions.6

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In a music sector that generates $130 billion annually, artists, consumers, media conglomerates, and independent labels alike are caught up in these contradictions.7 As an industry itself, world music is thoroughly enmeshed within the very systems of reproduction and commerce that original definitions of folk music disavow. In a context of global culture and global economy, these definitions are immediately called into question. For instance, what happens to “authentic” forms of world music as they are removed from local, ethnic contexts and transformed for global markets? In identifying the form and content of these musical commodities in a context of cultural and economic globalization, how is authenticity created or exploited? What connections can be made between authenticity and ethnicity? Finally, how do these distinctions organize world music through the production of market positions? GLOBALIZATION: MONEY, MUSIC, AND MIGRATION The popular consumption of world music in the United States highlights both the process and the politics of globalization. First, popular consumption is marked by world music’s increase in both availability and reception. Once available only in the geographical site of its production, forms of world music are now available in numerous locations. For instance, various styles of the world’s music can be found on online sites such as Worldmusic.net and itunes.com. Making cyberspace a significant point of access, digital downloads increased 54 percent in 2007.8 Furthermore, world music is available for listeners’ pleasure—and for purchase—everywhere from the Virgin Megastore and Wal-Mart to Starbucks Coffee Shops. Actually, Starbucks Entertainment Company has produced a multivolume series titled Hear Music that showcases world music artists such as Cesaria Evora, who sings traditional morna from Cape Verde; Bebel Gilberto, who sings bossa nova and other Brazilian styles; The Gotan Project, who compose techno tango; and The Spanish Harlem Orchestra, who perform salsa and Latin beats. Also indicating the popularity of world music, The Recording Academy awards 15 Grammys in world and folk music categories such as Best Traditional World and Best Contemporary World.9 Not only mainstream venues but also small, independent recording labels such as Putumayo World Music are significant factors in this trend. In fact, since Putumayo’s founding in 1993, the label has sold over 20 million CDs and, in 2006, generated over $24 million in sales.10 Second, globalization names the practice of crossing, and even condensing, geographical as well as economic borders. Two of globalization’s defining factors include: (1) a perceived shrinking of the world and (2) the consolidation of capitalist market forces across the globe. First, “globalization

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refers to the process by which planetary distance is being overcome. As the theory has it: a new ‘borderless’ world is appearing, freed from the tyranny of distance.”11 Globalization invokes advances in technology through which it is now possible to not simply travel but also to communicate across great distances in relatively short periods of time. This aspect of globalization has positive or progressive potentials because it provides a means to explore the world’s geographical regions, peoples, and heritages. World music is the vehicle for the journey through which listeners can experience a variety of world cultures. In this way, globalization and popular consumption are linked as “the world keeps getting smaller . . . you can go to Borders now and find the latest Algerian rai CD or a great African artist nobody knew before.”12 In short, globalization makes smaller, or “shrinks,” the world by making culture accessible. In this way, world music is also embedded in the technology through which it becomes available. Within this viewpoint, experiencing cultures as global can foster diversity and intensify a sense of human interconnectedness. Here, world music holds great potential for the development of diversity, intercultural dialogues, and understanding. Motivating this musical journey is a more fluid definition of not only music but also of culture itself. Under globalization, “cultural formations . . . are becoming increasingly mobile.”13 In fact, “culture is not a thing or a even a system: it’s a set of transactions, processes, mutations, practices, technologies, institutions out of which things and events [e.g., world music] . . . are produced, to be experienced, lived out and given meaning and value to in different ways within the unsystematic network of differences and mutations from which they emerged to start with.”14 Defining culture under globalization complicates the aforementioned definition of folk culture that was clearly embedded in particular traditions and locations. Instead, regarding cultures as sets of transactions and mutations, rather than as simple artifacts of ways of life, immediately uproots them from their local or “folk” origins. An apparent contradiction, the world music movement not only foregrounds but also embraces the mobility of cultural formations. Only through globalization has world music become accessible. Once embedded in local folk traditions, world music is now uprooted through processes of musical migration. However, the process of musical migration exceeds culture because world music is also big business. Take, for example, the New York–based Warner Music Group who reported earning $869 million in only the fourth quarter of 2007.15 In this vision, music is at once culture and commodity. As a crucial function of globalization, when culture crosses borders, so does capital. For instance, Warner Music International, a division of Warner Music Group, promotes “local repertoire around the world, which it distributes and markets across a network of affiliates in more than fifty countries.”16 It is clear that Warner Music International not only distributes and markets, but it also

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profits from the production of “local repertoire.” Rather than growing in heterogeneous or even democratic ways, multinational recording corporations tend to condense economic power. Identifying a tension between local and global present in world music, global economies tend to absorb local economies. Not simply Warner Music Group but each major recording company houses a division for world music because “the big multinational corporations that dominate the music industry themselves organize their music divisions into units each concentrating on a different genre and audience.”17 For instance, Sony BMG is not only organized through divisions such as Sony BMG Latin, but it also serves as an umbrella for a collection of smaller music labels worldwide. For instance, Sony BMG houses several labels that produce local music including Swedisc in Scandinavia, AKTH in Greece, and Warnada in Malaysia. This form of organization is typical in multinational media conglomerates that account for over 85 percent of music sales.18 Specifically, Warner Music Group accounts for a 20.3 percent market share; Sony BMG accounts for a 25.0 percent market share; Universal Music Group accounts for a 31.9 percent market share; and EMI accounts for a 9.4 percent market share.19 These four corporations are responsible for the majority of production, distribution, and of course, profit from music sales around the world. In this way, large multinational corporations are integral to processes of musical migration. Such corporations mobilize great amounts of capital to produce and distribute world music. However, directional flows of music and money are not equal. In fact, capital from media conglomeration (and the corresponding amounts of economic power) tends to flow from north to south and from west to east.20 In contrast, world music culture tends to flow from south to north and from east to west. Such inequitable flows result in “the increasing control of local and national economies by big capitalism” and is a primary function of economic globalization.21 In sum, processes of globalization are formed at the convergence of geographical, cultural, and economic developments. In this way, forms of music can “travel across geographical borders; they merge and separate; they cross and disrupt [economic] political and social divisions, and also, sometimes, they strengthen them.”22 While globalization may create greater diversity and accessibility in cultural flows, it also creates more power and centralized control in economic terms. COMMERCIAL CATEGORIES AND THE PROCESS OF SELECTION The problems concerning cultural and economic flows are compounded by the very category of world music itself. Most significantly, the category has been commercially, rather than musically, determined. Because world

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music is inherently diverse—it is made up of dissimilar sounds from distinct regions—it is difficult to define as a discreet musical genre. For instance, how can we compare the quick clave of a Cuban guaguanco with the deep doumbek of an Egyptian beledi? How are these more traditional forms related to hybrids or global electronica? All are categorized as world music but do not share the same rhythms, melodies, or even the same instruments. World music is made of diverse and essentially incomparable forms of music that are placed in the same marketing, rather than generic, category. In other words, “world music is not a musical genre but constitutes, at best, a marketing category for a collection of diverse genres from much of the developing world.”23 Focusing on the developing world also highlights the process of grouping music within the category as a process of discrimination. This is a strategic practice that confirms music’s classification as complex and, above all, highly selective. In specific terms, selective categorization occurs across two dimensions that identify world music as: (1) foremost a commercial category and (2) an overwhelmingly non-Western cultural form. First, “world music can be conceived as a selective commercial category of music, rather than a genre that has inherent links to particular world regions.”24 While world music includes such disparate sounds as koto drums from Japan and panpipe from Peru, these cultural forms retain a common link only through their “foreign” market value. The world music category itself was created in 1987 when vendors added a new section to music stores.25 This section was created to provide a central location, and thus a central point of access, for a variety of musical forms. This category effectively grouped together all forms of foreign and folk music that couldn’t neatly fit into any of the other existing genres. Creating world music as a category also established its market position as separate from, even an alternative to, previously established (i.e., popular) musical categories. In other words, the category/grouping also created a location/position. Unlike other musical categories brought together based on musical similarities, forms of world music were brought together for the purpose of marketing. This also effectively unified disparate forms of music in a way that connoted a sameness across a variety of distinct musics. Secondly, world music is an overwhelmingly non-Western musical form. Although some world music originates in the West, such as Celtic melodies or Gregorian chants, the vast majority of world music comes from more “exotic” African, Asian, Latin, Middle Eastern, and Pacific locations. For instance, of the distinct world music subgenres featured by National Geographic, less than 10 percent are of Western origins.26 In addition, of The Rough Guide to World Music’s eight featured picks, none are of Western origins, though three feature hybrid music.27 Because these are musical categories and featured picks, not simply top-selling artists, it is clear that the process of selecting and classifying music is consequential.

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Although Western folk music is clearly a part of the genre, the marketing focus of world music remains concentrated on the more exotic aspects of ethnic music. Rather than constituting a market category based on musical similarities, the emphasis of the category is based on a standard of ethnicity. Most significantly, the standard of ethnicity functions as a brand identity. In this way, world music is essentially branded along ethnic lines. The focus on ethnicity is also significant because it marks a distinction between Western and Other cultures. As “a marketing category for a collection of diverse genres from much of the developing world,”28 ethnic brand identity is thereby associated with third world cultural identity. Another way of looking at this as problematic is to identify that “world music” actually refers to third world music. Remember that all music is theoretically world music (i.e., originating on one world or globe), but only certain music is categorized (i.e., branded) that way. In other words, world “music is a perennial feature of all societies across the globe, but only some are labeled as such.”29 The process of selection and categorization is not accidental. World music is selected and categorized as a way of branding ethnicity and capitalizing on the third world locations and identities. In this way, world music should be regarded not simply as a market category but also an ideological category. The ideological association is problematic for the world music category because: (1) it backgrounds the presence of Western folk music, and (2) it marks and commodifies third world cultures. IDEOLOGICAL CATEGORIES AND ESSENTIALIZING ETHNICITY As an ideological category, third/world music is based upon a basic binary distinction between “The West and The Rest.”30 Here, there is a clear division between the West/first world and the Rest/third world. In marking this division, terms such as civilized/primitive, culture/nature, and even commercial/ authentic are employed in order to distinguish the first world from the third world. At base, binaries define through difference. A binary consists of two mutually exclusive terms that are defined in opposition. Viewed hierarchically, one term is valued, and the other term is devalued. As well, the definitions link with one another to essentially form a chain of meaning. In this way, primitive, natural, and authentic become linked terms in defining the third world. Additional binaries that are invoked through world music include pure/debased, exotic/ordinary, spicy/bland, and even inside/outside. As a basic meaning-making function, definition through difference may seem necessary to making sense of the world around us, but binaries remain, at best, ideological. Specifically, a binary system of representation reflects “a sense of fixity [that] is usually implied whenever music is discussed for pre-capitalist

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societies, both in relation to the cultural and geographical origins of the music, but also through the link to nostalgia—related to yearnings for past glories, lost youth and claims for styles of music that evade the ‘corrupting’ influences of contemporary society and economy.”31 These meanings are not natural but created and held in place by ideology. Moreover, binary definitions also work to essentialize identities and fix locations because within the binary system of representation “continuity is valued over change, stability is preferred to cycles of fashion, and . . . links [from] music to particular places establishes those links as traditions and genuine aspects of local cultures.”32 Effectively essentializing third world identities, a link is created between ethnic tradition and cultural authenticity. Capitalizing on the ideological functions of binary definitions, the First World also establishes unequal structures for cultural circulation through economic power in the global marketplace. Specifically, the distinctions between The West and The Rest are exploited in order to stabilize a particular market segment by stabilizing a definition of ethnic music as authentic music. Recall that the global marketplace does not consist of egalitarian exchanges across cultures or economies of equality. Under globalization, flows of capital are unequal and function to secure the dominance of the Western marketplace. Displacing the utopian vision of globalization, world music is traded in a space of commerce and competition. This space is not a democratic global marketplace but instead truly refers to Western capitalist marketplace. In other words, when ethnic music enters a global market, we are really talking about third world music entering a first world capitalist market. At this point, a contradiction surrounding world music in a global context is unearthed. As a form of global culture, it is fluid, but as defined through binaries, it is fixed. Recall that global culture is extremely mobile and contingent. It exists as sets of transactions and processes rather than locations or artifacts. As a form of global culture, world music is uprooted and becomes de-essentialized. In this way, the creation of music, identity, and even location are contingent processes. However, the binary system of representation seems to work against these notions of cultural mobility. This mode works to fix, rather than uproot, cultural formations. Under a concept of globalization, ethnicities and identities can’t be essential, yet, they are regarded as such under a binary style of thought. In this way, branding world music along ethnic lines works to embed meaning in exotic locations and ethnic identities. Take, for example, Cesaria Evora, the “barefoot diva” from Cape Verde. Called the barefoot diva because she typically removes her shoes before singing, she performs morna, the traditional folk music of her birthplace. Her sound is smooth, soulful, and melodic, and as culturally embedded, can be seen as an expression of the people in this geographical location. Here, Evora provides listeners with access to an authentic, ethnic experience as rooted in the music of Cape Verde. However, even as morna is a sound implanted in a

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particular geographical region, it is also listened to all over the world. Recall that Evora is featured in Starbucks Entertainment’s Hear Music series. As well, she has produced 18 albums, many of which are distributed by BMG Classics, a division of Sony BMG. Situated within the opposing forces of up/rooting, morna is transported from the cafés of Cape Verde to the Virgin Megastores of London or San Francisco. In this way, world music simultaneously relies on both the mobility of global culture and the fixity of ideologically based binaries. This inconsistency should not be read as a simple contradiction but as the way in which the very concepts of fixity and fluidity are ideologically produced. Divorcing world music from the concept of essential ethnicity also complicates the notion of cultural authenticity. Recall that world music is commonly regarded as a pure or authentic form of culture due to its origins in the oral traditions of folk culture. As a global cultural formation, however, world music can no longer be seen as truly pure or authentic. Nevertheless, world music retains what Walter Benjamin calls an “aura” of authenticity.33 By tying art to its origins in ritual practice, Benjamin claims that a work of art—or for that matter, any cultural form—retains the “aura” of the practice from which it is derived. For instance, “we know that the earliest art works originated in the service of ritual—first magical, then the religious kind. It is significant that the work of art with reference to its aura is never entirely separated from its ritual function.”34 As world music originated in local folk cultures, a strong bond is formed surrounding its tie to authenticity in which ritual is the location of its original value. Moreover, “small scale societies in every world region, emphasiz[e] the role of music in both everyday life and ritual life.”35 In this way, the link between authenticity and world music is strengthened because of its proximity to folk culture. A cultural form can never be completely separated from its original ritual function, and world music is perceived as even “closer” to these rituals. Binary definitions coupled with the proximity to folk culture work to stabilize and essentialize the primitive functions of local cultures. While “true” authenticity is, of course, an impossibility within global culture, world music continues to be perceived as authentic music. Ironically, world music’s tenuous claim to authenticity is also central to its commercial success. MAKING MUSIC AND MARKETING AUTHENTICITY World music retains a sense of authenticity through an “aura” that is enhanced through its proximity to folk culture. The sense of authenticity is also enhanced through a perceived distance from popular music. Recall that folk music is often defined in opposition to popular music in which “music as an authentic, self-driven collective expression . . . [is positioned] against

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music as commodity or industry product.”36 The sense of distance is created through: (1) the presence of divisions for world music within major record labels and (2) the positions created by independent record labels. Both sets of divisions imply that world music is somehow different from popular music, and the divisions effectively set it apart. While a sense of distance is present for the world music divisions of major record labels, such as Sony BMG, it is not as strong as the sense of distance produced by smaller independent labels. Independent labels such as Putumayo World Music, New Earth Records, Real World Records, and Rough Guide Releases focus production exclusively on world music rather than on diversified musical forms. One way of looking at this phenomenon is to define independent labels simply in relationship to a niche market. This, however, would be an oversimplification because the major labels also have a relationship to the same niche market. Instead, the presence of independent labels is central in creating a sense of authenticity for the world music category as a whole. In specific terms, the perception of authenticity is enhanced through the independent label’s position. Most significantly, independent labels are positioned outside of the majors. In this way, “outside” effectively names an alternative market position. The association is made because as world music remains separate, it also seems to remain pure. In other words, through independent labels, world music appears to be “untainted” by the culture industry. Of course, this is far from true because: (1) independent labels use the very same production technologies as major labels, (2) they rely on the very same networks for distribution as the major labels, and (3) they are also complicit in the creation and exploitation of ethnic/authentic definitions. Independent and major labels alike use the same production, reproduction, and distribution technologies. Even WOMEX, the world’s largest music networking conference, is implicated in these systems. WOMEX is designed as a forum for independent artists and labels to gain exposure and distribution.37 According to UNESCO, WOMEX is the most important international professional market of world music of every kind. This international fair brings together professionals from the worlds of folk, roots, ethnic and traditional music and also includes concerts, conferences and documentary films. It contributes to networking as an effective means of promoting music and culture of all kinds across frontiers.38

Using “networking as an effective means of promoting music” appears to stand in opposition to the mass distribution techniques of the culture industry. As “outside,” the artists and labels participating in WOMEX effectively produce world music independently. However, they ultimately will have to

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work within the confines of major labels to achieve mainstream distribution. In specific terms, world music “is more usually produced by independent labels than by majors, although majors often distribute and market music produced independently.”39 As the smaller, independent labels achieve distribution through the systems of major labels, such as Warner Music International or even the International Online Distribution Alliance, they clearly take part in the culture industry. In this role, the distinction between commercial and authentic becomes less distinct. Rather than constituting a pure contradiction, however, this functions as an organizing principle in which “the commercial/authentic distinction also organizes so much music making and marketing” for major and independent labels alike.40 As an organizing principle, it solidifies world music’s alternative market position thereby confirming its perceived authenticity. However, the perception of this distance cannot be legitimized in light of recording, mass production, and especially mass distribution techniques that make it available. Specifically, This trend has continued to the point now where many otherwise independent labels are distributed by one of the major transnationals. In fact it has been suggested that the independent record companies act in a way that serves the potential interests of the majors. They are generally involved in developing music outside the mainstream; if their music is successful and generates new audiences, they may begin to pose a threat to the majors’ market dominance. If so, they may simply be absorbed by the majors (and in the process the sharp edge of whatever new sounds they have championed may become blunted by being re-packaged for mass taste). Thus, insofar as independents may act as a source of new talent and new sounds to feed the demands of the majors for novelty and innovation, the relationship between the two types of companies may be thought of as symbiotic rather than oppositional.41

This organizing principle is further problematic because the “criteria to differentiate ‘classical,’ ‘folk,’ and ‘popular’ music are artificial and at best localized.”42 Under a concept of global culture, the distinction between categories of music may no longer by applicable at all. For instance, “all music that is heard and enjoyed can be interpreted as ‘popular’ in some sense. Whether talking about ‘traditional’ musical styles that remain important in the social practices of individual communities or migrant groups, the mass produced output of record labels, or the categorization of music in record shops.”43 The categories that previously defined, differentiated, and fixed cultural forms have been uprooted under globalization. As a foundational definition for world music, the very distinction between folk music and popular music is cast into doubt.

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CONCLUSION As a form of global culture, world music is part of a mobile formation that traverses distance in a “borderless” world. However, world music is caught in the tension between the drive to embed and the desire to uproot. This process is also realized through unequal flows of culture and economy. As a commercial category, rather than a distinct musical genre, world music is an overwhelmingly non-Western cultural form. Disparate sounds are grouped together based solely on their foreign market value. Additionally, because the world music category remains focused on ethnicity, “world music” needs to be reconfigured as third world music. As a problematic ideological category, the distinction for third world music is firmly held in place through a binary system of representation and especially through a distinction between The West and The Rest. Tying third world music to nostalgic notions of rituals in primitive cultures also works to strengthen its “aura” of authenticity. As a market category, world music labels work to create a sense of distance from the mainstream culture industry. World music is, of course, deeply enmeshed within the production and distribution systems of the culture industry, but it retains the appearance of purity through its alleged distance. Each factor contributes to the production of perceived authenticity in world music. Here, world music is not simply a form of culture or musical genre but a carefully constructed brand. The brand capitalizes, both literally and metaphorically, on ethnic forms of music as authentic forms of music. However, the question of authenticity is no longer a question of truth or falsity; instead, it is a question of production. As heterogeneous forms of world music enter a global marketplace, authenticity is strategically produced through commercial categories, ideological categories, and market positions. Most significantly, it is not the sounds or rhythms, not the melodies or music itself, but “authenticity” that is the product being sold. As enabled by the continuing processes of globalization, world music will most certainly continue to grow commercially. New venues and technologies, especially digital downloads, make it easier than ever for global consumers to discover the “new” sounds of “primitive” cultures. In fact, “early indicators are that the new digital revolution will be a huge plus for folk music, helping it to be heard by millions of people that the old filters of the pop industry prevented it from reaching.”44 Implicated here is the possibility for technology to diversify distribution, thus creating a more democratic system and potentially mitigating corporate conglomeration. However, because independent music creates alternative market positions that actually serve the interests of major labels, this “filter” increases their potential to control local music and local economies. In other words, this is a filter that does not exclude but instead absorbs more and more of the world’s music and the world’s audiences. These trends ultimately point toward the continued

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concentration of global economy. Also implicated in this trend is a greater need to be critical of the investments and consequences as economies of entertainment traverse the globe. NOTES 1. Virginia Technical Institute Department of Music, “Music Dictionary,” Virginia Technical Institute, http://www.music.vt.edu/musicdictionary. 2. Theodor Adorno, The Culture Industry (London: Routledge, 1991). 3. J. M. Bernstein, “Introduction” to The Culture Industry, by Theodor Adorno (London: Routledge, 1991), 9. 4. Theodor Adorno, Aesthetic Theory, trans. C. Lenhardt (London: Routledge, 1984), 120. 5. Simon During, Cultural Studies: A Critical Introduction (London: Routledge, 2005), 127. 6. David Throsby, “The Music Industry in the New Millennium: Global and Local Perspectives,” paper presented at the meeting for Global Alliance for Cultural Diversity, UNESCO, Paris, France, October 2002. 7. International Federation of the Phonographic Industry Market Research, “Music Market Data 2007,” International Federation of the Phonographic Industry, http://www.ifpi.org/content/section_statistics/index.html. 8. Ibid. 9. The Grammy Awards, “50th Grammy Awards Nominations,” The Recording Academy, http://www.grammy.com/GRAMMY_Awards/50th_show/list.aspx. 10. Patricia Meschino, “Island Hopping,” Billboard, December 8, 2007, 49. 11. Simon During, Cultural Studies: A Critical Introduction (London: Routledge, 2005), 81. 12. Jim Bessman, “The Year in World Music,” Billboard, December 29, 2001, 113. 13. Simon During, Cultural Studies: A Critical Introduction (London: Routledge, 2005), 6. 14. Ibid. 15. Warner Music Group, “Warner Music Group Annual Report 2007,” Warner Music Group, http://investors.wmg.com/phoenix.zhtml?c=182480&p=irol-reports annual. 16. Warner Music Group International, “About WMG,” Warner Music Group, http://www.wmg.com/recordedmusic/?id=8a0af8120da8434e010dadfc69890538. 17. Simon During, Cultural Studies: A Critical Introduction (London: Routledge, 2005), 124. 18. International Federation of the Phonographic Industry Market Research, “Music Market Data 2007,” International Federation of the Phonographic Industry, http://www.ifpi.org/content/section_statistics/index.html. 19. Ibid. 20. Jonathan Bignell, An Introduction to Television Studies (London: Routledge, 2004). 21. Ibid., 87. 22. Simon During, Cultural Studies: A Critical Introduction (London: Routledge, 2005), 7. 23. John Connell and Chris Gibson, Sound Tracks: Popular Music, Identity, and Place (London: Routledge, 2003), 153.

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24. John Connell and Chris Gibson, “World Music: Deterritorializing Place and Identity,” Progress in Human Geography 28, 3 (2004): 343. 25. T. Brennan, “World Music Does Not Exist,” Discourse 23 (2001): 44 –62. 26. National Geographic Music, “Music Genres A–Z,” National Geographic, http:// worldmusic.nationalgeographic.com/worldmusic/view/page.basic/home (accessed October 5, 2007). 27. The Rough Guide to World Music, “Features and Interviews,” World Music Network, http://www.worldmusic.net/wmn/news/features (accessed October 5, 2007). 28. John Connell and Chris Gibson, Sound Tracks: Popular Music, Identity, and Place (London: Routledge, 2003), 153, italics added. 29. John Connell and Chris Gibson, “World Music: Deterritorializing Place and Identity,” Progress in Human Geography 28, 3 (2004): 343. 30. Stuart Hall, “The West and The Rest: Discourse and Power,” in