When movies feel like TV

  • Pin It

Chicago Tribune film critic Michael Phillips sits down with features reporter Chris Borrelli about the competition today between cinema and TV, and some movies that carry TV potential.

An epic this wordy and demanding of an audience's patience and ability to process a lot of complex, unfamiliar information would not have appeared out of place on HBO as, say, a more rigorous, detail-minded cousin to "John Adams."

Even a film as seemingly removed from the television experience as "The Hobbit": Knowing that it's actually three films that will eventually extend to a probable 10-or-so-hour tale (or roughly the length of a single season of "Game of Thrones"), "you can kind of feel the rhythm of serialization working throughout," Safinia said. "What happened to single, defining movies that do one thing in two hours? That's not really a criticism. I sat through 'The Hobbit,' it didn't finish, and that's OK. People expect that. I made a movie with Mel Gibson named 'Apocalypto,' and people actually asked if there would be a sequel!"

If blockbuster movie franchises have helped establish an internal episodic clock in audiences, a decade or so of intricate, risky HBO and Showtime series have installed expectations of open-endedness, ambiguity.

As I watched "The Hobbit," I made a mental note to return soon to "Game of Thrones." Just as while watching "Zero Dark Thirty," I couldn't help but picture an HBO series of identical material looking very much like this, a mashup of "The Wire" and "Homeland," with multiple storylines spilling over multiple seasons, a parallel plot line following the Navy SEALs from their training right up to their raid on Bin Laden's compound.

Even the film's somewhat ambiguous final image would probably work, albeit after, oh, seven seasons.

It's important to note that this cross-pollination of aesthetics and expectations is not necessarily an issue of quality — in particular, to see "Zero Dark Thirty" after "Homeland" is to be reminded of what great movies often do well (compression) and what even the best long-form television series struggles with (editing). Television, Mylod said, tends to attract writers who "want to do a Ph.D. on a character, not a 1,000-word nugget."

Safinia said there have been discussions of a "Boss" movie, but he would prefer more than two hours to conclude what he started. Intentions are fluid, however. Last fall, I asked David Chase, creator of "The Sopranos," why his follow-up to his landmark show was a movie ("Not Fade Away," now playing), not a series. He said the material — the life of a small-town rock band in the 1960s — was too thin for the weight of a TV series.

I doubted this.

He replied, "For a series to stay on the air, a show needs sex and death, basically, and that's too much to put on these kids." Then, in almost the same breath, he added that, on the other hand, he had considered a TV series of similar material tied to the Rolling Stones catalog, with each new episode named for a Stones song. Later, in Sepinwall's book, I learned that the pilot of "The Sopranos" turned out so well that Chase harbored hopes of HBO rejecting it, thereby freeing him to shoot a second hour and release it as a feature.

No matter how a "Sopranos" movie might have turned out, to have not had that series would have been a cultural tragedy: What "The Sopranos" and its cable children provided in the past decade were substitutes for the kind of thoughtful, modestly budgeted ($25 million-$50 million) movies that studios mostly have stopped making. Mylod said that "Shameless" was never produced with any intention "of filling a hole in the film market," but its slightly grubby, class-conscious milieu, not unlike HBO's "Girls," also returning Sunday night, carries the definite marks of Sundance indies, albeit made with the professionalism of studio veterans.

This kind of thing has been happening at least since the early '80s, John Caldwell, a longtime media scholar and professor in the film program at the University of California at Los Angeles (he coined the term "televisuality," a kind of TV-world answer to film's "cinematic"), told me. At the time, he noticed more TV producers calling themselves filmmakers. But, as generations grow up absorbing both TV and film images on widescreens, he added, old distinctions between what is a film and what is television are less relevant.

"I think (Hollywood) is in denial," he said. "They use 'film,' though they often don't shoot on it, and there are few things made anymore (that are) exclusively filmlike. But 'film' is on life support because it's worth something."

At Chicago's Tribeca Flashpoint Media Arts Academy, the majority of film students still generally want to make films, said Peter Hawley, chair of the film and broadcast department. "They still coming in wanting to making a movie," he said, "not long-form TV, not 'Breaking Bad,' as much as they love it."

On the other hand, what they think of as "cinematic" is complex. Even film students imagine making Web series, Hawley said. "And as for TV, they don't watch it the way older people might watch it, so they don't necessarily think of, say, 'Breaking Bad' as television, or movies as just movies. They don't really see any separation anymore."


Twitter @borrelli

  • Pin It

Local & National Video

Local & National Video