I recently re-watched the movie Tomorrowland on DVD. I was glad to revisit the film as my theater
experience was less than optimal; the film had left theaters so quickly that I
was only able to see it on the big screen at a “$4 anytime” second run theater,
with a somewhat anemic light bulb in the projector and parent-free urchins
running up and down the aisle.
I enjoyed the movie-going experience none the less, and my
impression of the film was only elevated by seeing it under more technologically
conducive circumstances. The film boasts
true imagination in writing and directing, a typically insouciant performance
by George Clooney, and an uplifting message at the end. Something for the whole family.
It bombed. It opened
with a ho-hum
$40.7 million over Memorial Day weekend, and then took a precipitous 58%
nosedive the next weekend. It finished with an impressive sounding but
disappointing $93 million domestic gross, $209 million worldwide. For something with a $190 million budget, that's
called underperforming.
But why? The film was
not an assault on anyone’s intelligence, like John Carter. The film was not a retread of tired sci-fi
ideas, like Jupiter Ascending. The film
did not have amateurish special effects like, oh let’s say 47 Ronin (I actually
thought 47 Ronin was okay, but I have no desire to defend it).
I have faced this question with other films. Mystery Men, a big-budget special effects
laden comedy with Ben Stiller, Janeane Garofalo, and William H. Macy was also,
to my mind, an inexplicable flop.
Sometimes I understand when a film might resonate with me more than the
general audience, or have an approach to humor that may be idiosyncratic, but
Mystery Men had a smart script and a great cast (Hank Azaria, Greg Kinnear, Wes
Studi, Geoffrey Rush, Lena Olin and Claire Forlani).
I don’t have an answer for Mystery Men, but I have one for
Tomorrowland. The film itself explains
why it failed (spoilers ahead!). In the
final denouement, the “bad guy” (played with typical bluster by perpetual Emmy
loser Hugh Laurie) makes a speech about why the world is about to end. In that speech, he points out that, as
another great wordsmith Yogi Berra might have said, the future ain’t what it
used to be. In the 1950’s and early 60’s
people believed the future would be full of gleaming towers, noiseless
monorails, and jetpacks.
So why are we now beset with innumerable films and TV shows
featuring a bleak, dystopian future (an episode of the Simpsons actually catalogged all the recent films, TV
shows and plays set in dystopian futures)?
As the bad guy in Tomorrowland sums up, “[People] dwell on this terrible
future and you resign yourselves to it for one reason, because that future
doesn't ask anything of you today.”
My theory as to why Tomorrowland failed? It hit too close to home. It was an optimistic message about hope and
saving humanity, but all that optimism was based on one thing: people giving a
crap. The analysis is right, people do
find dystopian futures enjoyable because it absolves us from getting off our
couches, putting down our iPhones, and doing something. People reject a film about optimism because
if we accepted it, then we’d have to do something about it, and in an era of “too
much TV” that’s the last thing anyone wants to do.
So, congratulations, Tomorrowland! You turned out to be too prescient for your
own good. Next time Brad Bird directs a
film, it will be about young teenagers in a dystopian future, where they
participate in some kind of bizarre competition for survival.
Hey, that sounds like a script idea. Let me call my agent and see if it’s been
done before.
No comments:
Post a Comment