The Name on the Marquee.
It's that time of the year again - people are packing up their bags and heading out to Park City, Utah for the most important festival in the United States - Sundance. I'm not headed out this year, so I get to sit on the sidelines and be jealous of my friends who are (although all of them have reported extremely high stress levels in conjuncture with the fest).
The Sundance Film Festival is seen as the forefront of American Independent Film, mainly for the headline-grabbing reports of huge sales, discovered talents, glitzy star-power and big scene that's put on. The image has mutated from being a small, but important film festival tucked away in the middle of a snowy ski retreat. The exponential growth and commercialization has attracted a number of attackers to the fest - often railing against the implied image of the festival - claiming that it's lost it's "Independent" nature.
I hear this attack often for a number of festivals - Cannes, SXSW, etc. A lot of my colleagues have subscribed to the false paradigm of film festivals being solely intended for the independent film and see any sort of studio or corporate involvement as a breach of some sort of implied social contract. Recently, I was talking with the director of a film that I was working on, discussing his festival strategy. Naturally, as anybody in film does, his inclination was to imagine the biggest, brightest, best-case scenario he could and then work his way down the ladder, working his way to more reasonable and more achievable goals (but, of course, still tossing the money towards the largest festivals - which, if you ask me, the submission fees to those are worth it just to dream about getting in). This director, who I consider a smart guy, completely shocked me when he said, "While I'm sure it'd be fun, I don't really know what the value of a Sundance premiere is anymore - didn't they play Be Kind Rewind this year?"
While Be Kind Rewind certainly gets no love from me, the assertion that a film festival is of a lesser status because of its marquee screening is downright unfair. I've heard the same accusation lobbied at Cannes for their marquee screening of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith - which, for the detractor, the association of the fest and that film must be particularly satisfying.
But it's not so out of place.
With Episode 3, yes, you do open yourself up for criticism, but the bemoaning from my fellow independent filmmakers is unwarranted. As cool as it is to accuse others of selling out, it's simply not the case - it's always been this way.
A quick look at the history of Cannes tells us the original intent of the festival. Born from the severe political climate that was Europe in the 30s, Cannes emerged to showcase films without bias or political censorship. In, other words - film nerds of the 30s just wanted to watch films from all over the world that they wouldn't have been able to otherwise. It's easy to take the anti-regulatory, anti-censorship nature of the statement and claim that it was in support of "alternative" cinema, but the argument doesn't really hold water. In 1945 there weren't too many filmmakers making films "outside the system". Plus, the first Cannes lineup included The Lost Weekend (Paramount), Notorious (RKO), Make Mine Music (Disney) among others.
As the film industry has evolved so has the festival, but the intent of showcasing and honoring films that might not be seen otherwise hasn't changed. However, instead of the fear of fascistic censorship, the fears are of lack of distribution and the fear of not "finding an audience" even if you do have a distributor - a fear that nobody is immune from.
Today's marquee films are a vital part of the film festival. Whether the marquee is Star Wars or from an indie darling such as Michel Gondry, it's primarily
The other popular jab regarding the marquee is the idea that the film takes up a slot, so by virtue of the large film being at the festival somebody's small film isn't. Simply put, it doesn't work that way. Like with other categories, say a category for regional filmmakers, if you don't fit the criteria, you can't get in. No matter how good your movie is, you can't be programmed into a "Shorts from North Carolina" package if you're from and shot your movie in Oregon. Likewise, your film made for under $3,500 isn't going to premiere opening night in the largest theatre even if it is the best film that the festival has ever received. The marquee position is reserved for a movie that's friendly to the festival's audience from a distro that will put up a decent amount of money (Of course, the mental image of George Lucas burning off a DVD of Episode 3, eagerly filling out the submission forms and writing the check, sending it all off and praying to get in is amusing).
Now, while that may upset some that there are positions up for sale (at some, not all festivals), it's important to remember that the slots are very limited (mostly to prevent that amount of anger, and to focus on the other films) and it's pretty much always been this way (which, admittedly, in and of itself is not a justification, but a reminder that the pristine image of a completely free-of-outside-influence festival is an image of a festival that pretty much never existed). The money paid in isn't lining some rich programmers' pockets, either. Festivals are increasingly more expensive to put on and badges and submission fees often do not cover the cost of operations. Without marquee films, many film festival simply wouldn't exist, at least not in their modern form.
For the die-hard rebellious "fuck that man" types, here's how to look at it. When you make your film, the one that's going to take down the system, and you manage to get it into festivals - it'll be the big boys' money that's paying for the theatre rental and your free badge.
Now that's cool.
The Sundance Film Festival is seen as the forefront of American Independent Film, mainly for the headline-grabbing reports of huge sales, discovered talents, glitzy star-power and big scene that's put on. The image has mutated from being a small, but important film festival tucked away in the middle of a snowy ski retreat. The exponential growth and commercialization has attracted a number of attackers to the fest - often railing against the implied image of the festival - claiming that it's lost it's "Independent" nature.
I hear this attack often for a number of festivals - Cannes, SXSW, etc. A lot of my colleagues have subscribed to the false paradigm of film festivals being solely intended for the independent film and see any sort of studio or corporate involvement as a breach of some sort of implied social contract. Recently, I was talking with the director of a film that I was working on, discussing his festival strategy. Naturally, as anybody in film does, his inclination was to imagine the biggest, brightest, best-case scenario he could and then work his way down the ladder, working his way to more reasonable and more achievable goals (but, of course, still tossing the money towards the largest festivals - which, if you ask me, the submission fees to those are worth it just to dream about getting in). This director, who I consider a smart guy, completely shocked me when he said, "While I'm sure it'd be fun, I don't really know what the value of a Sundance premiere is anymore - didn't they play Be Kind Rewind this year?"
While Be Kind Rewind certainly gets no love from me, the assertion that a film festival is of a lesser status because of its marquee screening is downright unfair. I've heard the same accusation lobbied at Cannes for their marquee screening of Star Wars Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith - which, for the detractor, the association of the fest and that film must be particularly satisfying.
But it's not so out of place.
With Episode 3, yes, you do open yourself up for criticism, but the bemoaning from my fellow independent filmmakers is unwarranted. As cool as it is to accuse others of selling out, it's simply not the case - it's always been this way.
A quick look at the history of Cannes tells us the original intent of the festival. Born from the severe political climate that was Europe in the 30s, Cannes emerged to showcase films without bias or political censorship. In, other words - film nerds of the 30s just wanted to watch films from all over the world that they wouldn't have been able to otherwise. It's easy to take the anti-regulatory, anti-censorship nature of the statement and claim that it was in support of "alternative" cinema, but the argument doesn't really hold water. In 1945 there weren't too many filmmakers making films "outside the system". Plus, the first Cannes lineup included The Lost Weekend (Paramount), Notorious (RKO), Make Mine Music (Disney) among others.
As the film industry has evolved so has the festival, but the intent of showcasing and honoring films that might not be seen otherwise hasn't changed. However, instead of the fear of fascistic censorship, the fears are of lack of distribution and the fear of not "finding an audience" even if you do have a distributor - a fear that nobody is immune from.
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here as a promotional tool, both for the film and for the distributor. When New Line brought Be Kind Rewind (which I just noticed is a title lacking in much-needed punctuation) to Sundance, it symbiotically attracted a lot of attention to the film and to the film festival. New Line brings in the director, stars, producers, execs, etc. and makes a presence at the festival, saying that New Line cares about smaller film and independent film and might even buy your film someday. The media writes up about Jack Black or whomever being there, who he's with, how much he weighs, etc., mentioning the film and Sundance in every write-up. While it's far from the only reason that Sundance is a part of America's film-related consciousness, the annual mentions in US Weekly do help a lot to establish a sense of importance for the festival in the minds of the people - even people who would never ever be interested in going. The other popular jab regarding the marquee is the idea that the film takes up a slot, so by virtue of the large film being at the festival somebody's small film isn't. Simply put, it doesn't work that way. Like with other categories, say a category for regional filmmakers, if you don't fit the criteria, you can't get in. No matter how good your movie is, you can't be programmed into a "Shorts from North Carolina" package if you're from and shot your movie in Oregon. Likewise, your film made for under $3,500 isn't going to premiere opening night in the largest theatre even if it is the best film that the festival has ever received. The marquee position is reserved for a movie that's friendly to the festival's audience from a distro that will put up a decent amount of money (Of course, the mental image of George Lucas burning off a DVD of Episode 3, eagerly filling out the submission forms and writing the check, sending it all off and praying to get in is amusing).
Now, while that may upset some that there are positions up for sale (at some, not all festivals), it's important to remember that the slots are very limited (mostly to prevent that amount of anger, and to focus on the other films) and it's pretty much always been this way (which, admittedly, in and of itself is not a justification, but a reminder that the pristine image of a completely free-of-outside-influence festival is an image of a festival that pretty much never existed). The money paid in isn't lining some rich programmers' pockets, either. Festivals are increasingly more expensive to put on and badges and submission fees often do not cover the cost of operations. Without marquee films, many film festival simply wouldn't exist, at least not in their modern form.
For the die-hard rebellious "fuck that man" types, here's how to look at it. When you make your film, the one that's going to take down the system, and you manage to get it into festivals - it'll be the big boys' money that's paying for the theatre rental and your free badge.
Now that's cool.