There are no shortage of Hollywood takeover-horror tales… in fact, it seems that many young directors are required the teeth-cutting of studio-mandated reshoots, re-edits, or rewrites, and the subsequent fallout after the film fails to perform. The concept has been present in Hollywood ever since film has existed, and is necessitated by the megalomaniacal ideal that someone can accurately predict what a viewing audience will unanimously accept, reject, or shell out money for.
Obviously, studios are often wrong.
This is well worn territory I’m broaching, and I won’t pretend I’m the only one pointing out that creativity is stifled in an environment where it should be embraced. Hollywood is in the business of making money, and as such, use that primary motivation as the dictating compass of their filmmaking decisions. And, hey, someone has to do that. It’s an unfortunate side-product of the business. Fortunately, many directors have been able to go the independent route and are able to create works of great artistic merit. Some, even have usurped the Hollywood system by lucking out with a studio that gives them carte-blanche in the creation of an unproven property (I’m looking at you, New Line and Peter Jackson.)
But on the whole, studios intervene with creative “direction” when there is a presupposition that something isn’t going to work for an audience. And it’s their way, or the highway.
Most directors don’t have the cache to go toe to toe with financiers, and as such, you have talented former upstarts like Stephen Norrington, Matthew Kassovitz, and Brad Furman basically see their directing careers crumble when their studio films are (surprise surprise) universally loathed. It’s something that has always bothered me, albeit quietly.
Then I recently read about some of the studio’s suggestions for Alfonso Cuaron’s space opera “Gravity”: (via Dark Horizons)
One was an “Apollo 13”-style suggestion of frequent cutting back to Mission Control in Houston – “You need to cut to Houston, and see how the rescue mission goes. And there is a ticking clock with the rescue mission.”
Another was the inclusion of flashbacks to showcase the backstory of Sandra Bullock’s character, and even going so far as to suggest “a romantic relationship with the Mission Control commander, who is in love with her.”
There was also one exec who asked for more action including “having an enemy, like a missile strike” and “finishing with a rescue helicopter”.
Now, many Hollywood ideas strike me as alarmingly stupid. But the hilariously ironic thing about “Gravity” is that the film, at its core, is about surviving and overcoming isolation. (Or, one could argue, that isolation doesn’t mean alone.)
Not only do I find this utterly reprehensible, but it makes me question whether or not I’d survive in said industry. Not because someone would be telling you what to do, necessarily… but because the track record of those telling you what to do is, more often than not, a documented failure of false creativity and financial survival.
Cuaron made the film he wanted to, and Warners, to their own credit, actually had the guts to stick with him. “Gravity” garnered the largest October opening of all time, and will be heavily considered during awards season. The Warners brass will hold trophies high above their heads, congratulating themselves, and thanking their good fortunes.
Except it isn’t fortune… all they’ll do is reap the benefits because they did what studios are supposed to do: give a filmmaker the tools he or she needs to make the picture they want.
Rinse, wash, repeat.