Will the film industry please stop predicting its

own demise?

In “Soul,” the latest Pixar masterpiece, a man who has spent years
attempting to achieve a highly specific vision of what his life should be learns
that success, and art, beauty and grace come in many forms. And in the end,
the form is not as important as the ability to accept the success, and the art,
beauty and grace of life itself.

I sincerely hope that is not a spoiler but it may well be, especially for those
working in the industry that created “Soul.”

Here is a multibillion-dollar industry that regularly ignores its own product —

stories of resilience, hope and the indomitable human ability to overcome
horrendous obstacles — to howl predictions of its own death with every
cultural shift or industry innovation.

Even as movie theaters grew from single screens on Main Street to 26-
screen megaplexes circling every city and town, the film industry saw only
threats — television; videocassettes, then DVDs; piracy; the rise of the
superstar, the fall of the superstar; blockbuster franchises; mega-mergers;
the habits of young people; streaming services; and now, of course, the
COVID-19 pandemic.

The last two are the most current, and directly disruptive, reasons for time-
of-death predictions. With their reliance on large groups of people gathering
together, both creative teams and audience, the performing arts have been
hit hard — most theaters of all kinds have been closed indefinitely and the
only “takeout” or “delivery” option is some form of television/streaming. But
where theatrical and live-music events see an obvious emergency stop-gap,
filmmakers consider an irrevocable surrender to forces they have been
battling for years.

When Warner Bros, Disney and other studios chose to release many (or in
Warner Bros’ case, all) of 2020 and 2021’s slated films on streaming
platforms, hands already chafed by too much hand sanitizer were wrung raw
as filmmakers and executives once again lamented the death of film as we
know it. Honestly, it sometimes seems that the only people who do not
believe in the power of movies are the people who make them.

There is no doubt that the entertainment industry is changing, drastically, for

good and ill, just as it has regularly changed, for good and ill, since its earliest
days. (Remember Aromavision? Not a thing, but drive-ins are back.) Piracy
is real and damaging, Disney’s absorption of Fox was deeply upsetting and
the lack of production and box office returns in 2020 is a terrible thing for a
wide range of people, especially those working below the line and behind the
counters. The pandemic has wreaked havoc on many industries, including
film, and there will be irrevocable damage to theater chains, studios and
forsaken projects.

But the death of movies as we know them? That would be outrageous.

First of all, movies released on streaming services are still, you know,
movies, with all the good, bad and ugly that implies. Bereft of the traditional
fanfare — the big premiere, the ancillary events, the box office standings,
the in-theater promotions — conversations about this year’s films have
certainly felt muted but the work remains what the work would always have
been. As Joe Gardner (Jamie Foxx) learns in “Soul,” relying too obsessively
on a preconceived notion of the artistic life does not fan the creative spark; it
often deprives it of oxygen.

Does the inability to see films on the big screen in a theater’s dark embrace
deplete some of their power? Perhaps, but a well-told story doesn’t rely on
Dolby sound. Any movie worth seeing on a big screen is worth seeing on a
small screen as well, and if your film requires the enforced stillness of a
theater to maintain viewer attention, well, maybe the venue is not the
problem.

If filmmakers are, as most claim to be, trying to reach an audience beyond

their peers, streaming services are far more efficient than even California’s
wealth of megaplexes — and the solace, inspiration and resonance of
cinematic stories have never been a more vital cultural conduit. Anecdotal
evidence may be the bad person of history but I don’t know a single person
who is not longing, with something akin to physical pain, to go to the movies
again.

When theaters reopened, briefly, in Ventura and Orange counties, people of

rearranged their days and drove miles to visit them; some even rented the
whole theater.

Were we excited that “Soul” and “Wonder Woman” had streaming debuts on
Christmas Day to offer some semblance of the holiday moviegoing
experience? Absolutely. Was it the same as ending an exhausting shopping
day at the movies, all those just-purchased presents at your feet, or bundling
everyone in the car to eat your smuggled-in stocking candy at the local
cineplex? Absolutely not.

After months of all-you-can-watch TV, my dream day is to shut down all

personal screens, enter some vast megaplex for the first show and work my
way through every film available, feasting on hot dogs, pretzels, popcorn and
cheesy nachos, until the final credits of the last screening.

When the movie theaters are open and safe once again, I will buy every
membership pass to every chain available and happily watch each and every
2020 film I have already seen at least once again on the big screen. Even
the ones I didn’t like all that much.

And I am not alone. Everyone wants to go to the movies again, not just
because it will mark a very real return to those nonpandemic days we so
recently took for granted — never again, you old movie house! — but for the
sheer specific pleasure of it. The hum of the lobby, the buttery breath of the
concession stand, the hand-holding couples in line, the rows of expectant
faces staring up from their seats, the huddle of shucked jacket at your back,
the scramble of last-minute candy distribution, the wondrous welter of
trailers, even that guy who can’t seem to keep track of the characters and
apparently never learned to whisper.

I miss many things from prepandemic life but nothing (beyond the lack of
rising death counts) so painfully as going to the movies. So don’t tell me that
Warner Bros’ decision to release its 2021 slate on HBO Max is the death of
the movie industry — if, in spring or summer, people can safely see any of
those movies in theaters, they will.

Some movie houses and chains may not survive these next surging months,
and streaming services will inevitably impact the long-term future of the
megaplex sprawl. But if the ’20s are going to roar, as so many experts
predict, the loudest sound you will hear will be the rush of exultant vaccinated
masses as they abandon their sofas and toss away their remotes because,
hurry up, put on your shoes, it’s time to go to the movies.