Han Solo and the Difference Between a Good Movie and a Good Experience
My Twitter timeline has been inundated with news that the new Han Solo film has lost its directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller (of ‘The Lego Movie’ and ‘21 Jump Street’ fame) and gained a new, safe replacement: Ron Howard.
Anyone who understands how Hollywood works — and even more to the point, how a massive corporation like Disney works — should not be shocked by this. A ‘Star Wars’ film is the perfect example of a film that cannot be a failure, and as such will never be the exclusive work of a single artist. As film critic Peter Chattaway tweeted earlier today, “It really is amazing how Star Wars went from self-financed independence (and all the freedom that came with that) to corporate turmoil.”
I do not have a strong opinion of that directorial change, but I do think that there’s a lesson to be learned in this sort of management. I am drawn to consider the wise words of Roger Ebert, from (of all things) his review of the late ’90s film ‘Gamera: Guardian of the Universe’.
That’s right, the movie about Godzilla’s flying turtle rival. Just follow me, for a second.
As Ebert says:
There’s a learning process that moviegoers go through. They begin in childhood without sophistication or much taste, and for example, like “Gamera’’ more than “Air Force One” because flying turtles are obviously more entertaining than United States presidents. Then they grow older and develop “taste,’’ and prefer “Air Force One,” which is better made and has big stars and a more plausible plot. (Isn’t it more believable, after all, that a president could single-handedly wipe out a planeload of terrorists than that a giant turtle could spit gobs of flame?) Then, if they continue to grow older and wiser, they complete the circle and return to “Gamera’’ again, realizing that while both movies are preposterous, the turtle movie has the charm of utter goofiness — and, in an age of flawless special effects, it is somehow more fun to watch flawed ones.
I mention this quote because there is a good chance that a Han Solo film directed by Lord and Miller would have been flawed. Their film ‘22 Jump Street’ is one of my favorite examples of a goofy, flawed movie: Where the first film winked at the audience about its buddy-cop origins, this movie became an outright pastiche of the genre, referencing everything including its now-stale formula, its sequel status, and even its own budget. My favorite scene takes place late in the third act, where during a car chase Jenko constantly points out how much damage they’re doing and how excessive and ineffective their ‘police work’ has become.
In comparison to the Jump Street franchise, Ron Howard’s work on ‘The Da Vinci Code’ (the first film of which grossed over $750 million at the box office) played it just a bit more by the book.
Playing it by the book seems to be the current strategy for the big Hollywood tent poles. We can call this ‘the Marvel Cinematic Universe’ official playbook; produce something that has the highest mass appeal and the most polish. The only problem is that this type of direction often produces movies (like ‘Air Force One’) that are arguably better made, while at the same time being definitely less interesting.
The world could always use more creative spectacle, and that seems to be the meat of Ebert’s argument for films like ‘Gamera’ and my argument for a Han Solo flick directed by Lord and Miller. Studios think too little of the audience (or the audience has thought too little of themselves) if this is the new management style that we must grow accustomed to.
Continuing his review of ‘Gamera’, Ebert says that it “is not a good movie, but it is a good moviegoing experience.” This is a perfect distinction, and I think I will give the final word of this piece back to him:
I am reminded of Pauline Kael’s wise observation: The movies are so seldom great art that we should not go unless we can appreciate great trash. I am satiated, for the time being, by terrorists and fireballs and bomb threats and special effects, and my eyes yearn for new sights such as a giant radioactive bat trapped inside a baseball dome and emitting green rays. (There is even a voluptuous pleasure to be derived from simply typing the words “emitting green rays.’’)
Please, Mister, show me something new.
