I was out of town for a couple of weeks recently, and I had my subscriptions, too. The permanent smorgasbord of streaming services, whether of movies or music, is a diabolical temptation. Curiosity is easy to satisfy—at least within the wide limits of what’s available. Moreover, a month’s subscription to the Criterion Channel costs less than the purchase of any one Criterion Collection disk, while offering access to hundreds of classics. Even a small basketful of various subscriptions would likely add up to less than one might easily spend on a batch of CDs or DVDs or Blu-rays (not to mention the devices to play them on). Not only is streaming a good deal; given the huge losses recorded by many major streaming services, it may be too good a deal, as suggested by the surprising news this week—even as Netflix is ending its original DVD-by-mail service—that Bob Iger, the C.E.O. of Disney, is contemplating restoring physical media to the company’s offerings.
First, even the most bountiful streaming services give with one hand while taking with the other. For example, the Criterion Channel, the gold standard for cinephilic offerings, both announces a new batch of films arriving on the first day of the following month and thoughtfully warns subscribers of what’s leaving on the last day of the current one. (Among the August 31st farewells is a large batch of Buster Keaton’s features and shorts, Martin Scorsese’s “Mean Streets,” Stanley Kwan’s intricate docu-fictional bio-pic “Center Stage,” and a group of films featuring Marilyn Monroe, including “Monkey Business” and “All About Eve.”) This is not a knock on any particular service, but it is a reason to be wary of exclusive reliance on all streaming services. There is an implicit permanence to owning a disk. (Even obsolete media, such as VHS tapes or 78-r.p.m. records, can still be played.) With streaming, availability is out of one’s control and movie-watching becomes an activity conducted under the aegis of a big brother, however well-meaning.
A collection of physical media is a bulwark against fear—the fear that rights holders may take works out of circulation, whether because of a mere contractual lapse or a calculated market-making and desire-stoking scarcity. For decades, starting long before the age of home video, Howard Hawks’s “Scarface” and Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” were unavailable in the United States for theatrical screenings. In their absence, the cinephilic world didn’t stop spinning, but it was smaller, narrowing the realm of knowledge and the spectrum of pleasure alike. The sense of crisis that always marks the interface of art and power has grown all the sharper in recent years, with the sudden disappearance of Web sites and distributors (such as Filmstruck and New Yorker Films) and the mighty archive of work that they harbor, and the mergers and takeovers of sites, publications, movie and record companies, and book publishers by owners with commercial or ideological agendas that conflict with the preservation and availability of archives. The shutdown or lockdown of a single site may eliminate all access to the only extant source for a major movie. Thus, physical media take on an essentially political role as the basis for samizdat, for the preservation in private of what’s neglected or suppressed or destroyed in the public realm, be it through mercantile vandalism, doctrinaire censorship, or technological apocalypse.
The modern history of movies started in the nineteen-thirties, when Henri Langlois and Georges Franju founded the Cinémathèque Française and Iris Barry established MOMA’s Film Library. Most movie companies at the time treated their film prints as literal throwaways to be recycled for their chemical ingredients—on the assumption that these movies, once released and exhausting their first runs, had no further value. The future of the cinema, its advance into the forefront of modern art, resulted from the preservation and appreciation of its past. In an era when cheap physical media such as DVDs circulate widely, preservation is no longer the exclusive province of institutions housing bulky and expensive film prints. The archive of the future is decentralized, crowdsourced. Far from being nostalgic and conservative, the maintenance of a stock of physical media at home is a progressive act of defiance.
Multiple example of recent cultural views can send earlier classics packing. Just look at how some Disney titles were banned.
I was out of town for a couple of weeks recently, and I had my subscriptions, too. The permanent smorgasbord of streaming services, whether of movies or music, is a diabolical temptation. Curiosity is easy to satisfy—at least within the wide limits of what’s available. Moreover, a month’s subscription to the Criterion Channel costs less than the purchase of any one Criterion Collection disk, while offering access to hundreds of classics. Even a small basketful of various subscriptions would likely add up to less than one might easily spend on a batch of CDs or DVDs or Blu-rays (not to mention the devices to play them on). Not only is streaming a good deal; given the huge losses recorded by many major streaming services, it may be too good a deal, as suggested by the surprising news this week—even as Netflix is ending its original DVD-by-mail service—that Bob Iger, the C.E.O. of Disney, is contemplating restoring physical media to the company’s offerings.
First, even the most bountiful streaming services give with one hand while taking with the other. For example, the Criterion Channel, the gold standard for cinephilic offerings, both announces a new batch of films arriving on the first day of the following month and thoughtfully warns subscribers of what’s leaving on the last day of the current one. (Among the August 31st farewells is a large batch of Buster Keaton’s features and shorts, Martin Scorsese’s “Mean Streets,” Stanley Kwan’s intricate docu-fictional bio-pic “Center Stage,” and a group of films featuring Marilyn Monroe, including “Monkey Business” and “All About Eve.”) This is not a knock on any particular service, but it is a reason to be wary of exclusive reliance on all streaming services. There is an implicit permanence to owning a disk. (Even obsolete media, such as VHS tapes or 78-r.p.m. records, can still be played.) With streaming, availability is out of one’s control and movie-watching becomes an activity conducted under the aegis of a big brother, however well-meaning.
A collection of physical media is a bulwark against fear—the fear that rights holders may take works out of circulation, whether because of a mere contractual lapse or a calculated market-making and desire-stoking scarcity. For decades, starting long before the age of home video, Howard Hawks’s “Scarface” and Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” were unavailable in the United States for theatrical screenings. In their absence, the cinephilic world didn’t stop spinning, but it was smaller, narrowing the realm of knowledge and the spectrum of pleasure alike. The sense of crisis that always marks the interface of art and power has grown all the sharper in recent years, with the sudden disappearance of Web sites and distributors (such as Filmstruck and New Yorker Films) and the mighty archive of work that they harbor, and the mergers and takeovers of sites, publications, movie and record companies, and book publishers by owners with commercial or ideological agendas that conflict with the preservation and availability of archives. The shutdown or lockdown of a single site may eliminate all access to the only extant source for a major movie. Thus, physical media take on an essentially political role as the basis for samizdat, for the preservation in private of what’s neglected or suppressed or destroyed in the public realm, be it through mercantile vandalism, doctrinaire censorship, or technological apocalypse.
The modern history of movies started in the nineteen-thirties, when Henri Langlois and Georges Franju founded the Cinémathèque Française and Iris Barry established MOMA’s Film Library. Most movie companies at the time treated their film prints as literal throwaways to be recycled for their chemical ingredients—on the assumption that these movies, once released and exhausting their first runs, had no further value. The future of the cinema, its advance into the forefront of modern art, resulted from the preservation and appreciation of its past. In an era when cheap physical media such as DVDs circulate widely, preservation is no longer the exclusive province of institutions housing bulky and expensive film prints. The archive of the future is decentralized, crowdsourced. Far from being nostalgic and conservative, the maintenance of a stock of physical media at home is a progressive act of defiance.
Multiple example of recent cultural views can send earlier classics packing. Just look at how some Disney titles were banned.
Streaming is the worst thing to happen to the industry.
Doesn’t help us as film fans. From my viewpoint it’s a bad thing, especially with the woke agenda that wants to cancel anything that is funny, different, violent, anti fruit, anti vegan, anti smile, anti breath, anti good time, anti swearing, anti standing on tiptoes, anti walking, anti standing, anti crouching, anti not getting stressed enough, anti getting too stressed, you get the picture.
I mean, I kind of assume that people know what perspective I speak from.
Doesn’t help us as film fans. From my viewpoint it’s a bad thing, especially with the woke agenda that wants to cancel anything that is funny, different, violent, anti fruit, anti vegan, anti smile, anti breath, anti good time, anti swearing, anti standing on tiptoes, anti walking, anti standing, anti crouching, anti not getting stressed enough, anti getting too stressed, you get the picture.
I mean, I kind of assume that people know what perspective I speak from.
I dislike streaming and what it does to the film industry, filmmakers, film fans, and the general population. I think it is in fact not good for the user because it devalues films in their mind.
That being said, this take is just embarrassing. Using "woke" anywhere is embarrassing, and you've succumbed to the anti-woke mind virus. There is nothing "woke" about censorship and corporations doing it to maximise their profits. There is nothing "woke" about not swearing. There is nothing "woke" about not having a good time. Please stop.
This is a corporation who doesn't care about any of the social issues which is what "wokeism" is about like combating racism, the rights and treatment of LGBT people, bringing people out of poverty, and so on. I mean these are corporations who are hell bent on not paying their employees or doing away with them altogether. Conflating that with social issues is laughable. I can promise you that you'd have to search for the dregs of twitter to find "woke" person who wanted Disney to edit a film showing a realistic portrayal of a racist cop for whom the ends justify the means.
I dislike streaming and what it does to the film industry, filmmakers, film fans, and the general population. I think it is in fact not good for the user because it devalues films in their mind.
That being said, this take is just embarrassing. Using "woke" anywhere is embarrassing, and you've succumbed to the anti-woke mind virus. There is nothing "woke" about censorship and corporations doing it to maximise their profits. There is nothing "woke" about not swearing. There is nothing "woke" about not having a good time. Please stop.
This is a corporation who doesn't care about any of the social issues which is what "wokeism" is about like combating racism, the rights and treatment of LGBT people, bringing people out of poverty, and so on. I mean these are corporations who are hell bent on not paying their employees or doing away with them altogether. Conflating that with social issues is laughable. I can promise you that you'd have to search for the dregs of twitter to find "woke" person who wanted Disney to edit a film showing a realistic portrayal of a racist cop for whom the ends justify the means.
Also, veganism is good actually.
Are you even aware of what content Disney have been putting out over the last couple of years? I mean, the content is literally shaped by Twitter and all the ‘offended’ brigade.
Why do you think comedy is virtually dead?
Streaming is the worst thing to happen to the industry.
It is a self-inflicted wound.
The studios chose the money pit that they are digging with their own hands when they decided to each offer their own competing streaming service. They should have just stuck to licensing their stuff out to cable TV and the likes of Netflix thereby avoiding all of the huge costs associated with offering their own SVOD service.
Still, SVOD to me is just the logical evolution of cable TV. The studios never gave a damn about artistic integrity when their movies aired on cable TV, either, so I don't know why streaming would be any different. The studios want complete control over how we watch their movies. They never liked the idea of consumer's owning their own copies.
The studios chose the money pit that they are digging with their own hands when they decided to each offer their own competing streaming service. They should have just stuck to licensing their stuff out to cable TV and the likes of Netflix thereby avoiding all of the huge costs associated with offering their own SVOD service.
The "bleeding" is being attended to: higher monthly rates, addition of AVOD plans, less content spend, more licensing out of content.
They are not going to quit until they see black and it looks like it will be about 16 months to make that happen. You don't turn your back on a $230 billion a year revenue stream. And what will you do with 1 billion email addresses and demographic stats to go with them.
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Still, SVOD to me is just the logical evolution of cable TV. The studios never gave a damn about artistic integrity when their movies aired on cable TV, either, so I don't know why streaming would be any different. The studios want complete control over how we watch their movies. They never liked the idea of consumer's owning their own copies.
That changed with DVD. Once again the lure of billions of dollars - about 35 to 40 billion world wide a year made the studios welcome consumer ownership of their content with open arms and open wallets.
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