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Once the black sheep of the entertainment world, direct-to-videos are now the industry's fattest cash cow.
BY DALE E. BASYE, dbasye@wweek.com
Direct-to-video used to be the uncouth cousin of the entertainment industry, a boorish party crasher grudgingly endured yet earnestly downplayed as to not embarrass the other guests. Now with major studios leapfrogging many titles over the once-obligatory theatrical release and straight to hungry VCRs, direct-to-video is poised to sit at the head of the industry's table. Inaugurated in 1988 by a perfectly horrid no-budget slasher flick called The Ripper, the direct-to-video industry has an understandable stigma to live down. A straight-to-tape release was an assumption of dubious quality, either a cineturkey unceremoniously dumped into the marketplace by a studio looking to cut its losses or a slapped-together exploitation of a current blockbuster. At a party christening the DTV release of Aladdin: King of Thieves, Buena Vista's sequel to the box-office hit Aladdin, even emcee Robin Williams had to comment on the sudden gentrification of this industry: "Direct-to-videos used to have titles like Twin Cheeks!" When King of Thieves went on to sell 6 million copies in five days--quietly raking in $96 million while Independence Day opened to the tune of $81.5 million--the DTV had truly arrived. This holiday season, many other prominent video sequels are being unveiled. Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas; Honey We Shrunk Ourselves; Toy Story 2; and Hercules and Xena: The Animated Movie are just some of the "first-run videos" premièring at your local video store. With VCRs in 81 percent of households, DTV's rise has less to do with the quality of product than the cash-call of demand. "It's the appetite of the video marketplace," says Ann Daly, president of Buena Vista Video. Niche videos--specifically horror, soft-core porn and children's titles--thrive because of repeated viewings (who wants to watch Shine over and over again?) and "name-brand" product recognition. Instead of spending the $50 million or so it takes to market a theatrical release, rush a movie straight to thousands of local video stores, and you're looking at some considerable profit. For instance, Tremors and Darkman fared much better on video than in theaters, resulting in their high-profile DTV sequels. Last year's From Dusk to Dawn (which earned a paltry $26 million despite stars George Clooney and Quentin Tarantino) is set to be spun-off into a direct-to-video prequel and a sequel. Price-cutting competition has made big-title new releases of feature films big losses for video stores, creating a reliance on DTVs to help bolster a bottom line. Like the television industry, DTV has begun developing its own movies rather than depending on feature-film hand-me-downs. "The studios seem to be doing everything right in producing and marketing these movies," says Tom Adams, president of Adams Media Research. "They are not doing it on the cheap, but instead giving them the same kind of treatment that they give big, theatrical blockbusters." The same blockbuster mentality that's making direct-to-video a smash is the very phenomenon that's strangling the life out of the modern-day film industry. This year proved a disappointment for exhibitors and distributors alike when a glut of "big" movies was met with a slump in attendance. The major complaint is with event movies like The Lost World; all the demand is soaked up after a few weeks, so theaters are deprived of long runs, which generate the bulk of their profits. The problem stems from box-office revenue sharing between theaters and distributors, which guarantees distributors a sticky minimum "floor" of 70 percent of the box office in the opening weeks of a picture, gradually dropping to as little as 30 percent over time. Aggravating this dilemma is the building boom of the past few years, which has produced megaplexes with up to 30 screens a piece. With so many screens, moviegoers no longer have to wait to see the latest "must see" movie. "The release pattern of distributing films to 4,000 to 5,000 screens at once is harmful to both the exhibition and distribution industries," Cineplex Odeon Corp. CEO Allen Korp said in a recent statement. Thus, studios are biting into direct-to-video like never before, exploiting the myriad videosyncracies of the public in a way that is both flashy and economically feasible. "We don't think in terms of products that can command 1,000 screens in a theatrical release, but rather in servicing very specific needs," says Doug Richardson, UAV Corp. director of marketing. Maybe soon we'll be looking for the next blockbuster at Blockbuster, grazing the over-stocked aisles of new, direct-to-video releases muttering: "Nah, I'll wait for it to come out in theaters." That is, if theaters are still around. Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas (1997) ***
This well-made sequel to Disney's 1991 "girl-meets-monster who's really a prince" hit has Belle, the Beast and assorted pieces of talking cutlery reliving the time when the Beast refused to let them celebrate Christmas (since no mention is made of the hairy Romeo's religious convictions, we'll assume his objections aren't based on strict Judaic beliefs). The animation is first-rate and the great original cast (especially Paige O'Hara as Belle and Robby Benson as the Beast) are joined by some mildly engaging new characters, such as Tim Curry's Forte. Remarkably good for a straight-to-video cartoon sequel involving a Christ-sanctioned holiday. Casper: A Spirited Beginning (1997) *
Unfortunately, this isn't a peek at the early days of the Weinberger legacy but a lifeless attempt to scare up more money from the faded memory of a film that lacked a pulse to begin with. Exhibiting a marked case of soap-opera syndrome (i.e., a decent original cast replaced by sub-standard hacks with no explanation provided), this film not only lacks the screen appeal of Christina Ricci and Bill Pullman, but has the audacity to feature Steve Guttenberg and the voice of Pauly Shore. The writing is 100 percent Grade Z sitcom and--like every kids' movie released within the last 10 years--involves a lonely child and a workaholic dad. Alas, no insight is granted into that perennial Casper query: Who the hell was he when he was alive? Honey, We Shrunk Ourselves (1997) **
This third installment of the popular people-reduction/-enlargement series hints that its novelty is suffering from shrinkage. Luckily, Rick Moranis is still on board as the quintessentially nerdy inventor father. Scenes of an attacking cockroach and a helpful daddy longlegs play well, but the film is so pasteurized of anything remotely resembling an "edge"--or, for that matter, believability--that its inoffensive nature is, in itself, offensive. Not to be confused with the porn hit Honey, Look What I Enlarged! Little Witches (1997) ***
An unabashed knock-off of The Craft, this slick-looking soft-core peek at teen witches sans wardrobe is a supernatural thriller that isn't very thrilling or supernatural, but it's surprisingly enjoyable nonetheless. A naughty parochial schoolgirl plays travel agent for Satan (who wants to make Earth his new time-share condo) while a good girl tries to save her virgin boyfriend from being slain at the altar. Poltergeist's creepy Zelda Rubinstein (one of the few Poltergeist cast members who didn't suffer a weird death) plays a pint-sized nun, and DTV mainstay Jennifer Rubin is a sexy, habit-forming sister with a cryptic tattoo. The Second Jungle Book (1997) **
In this sequel to Disney's 1994 live-action theater release, a talent scout for P.T. Barnum (Bill Campbell) wants to capture Mowgli the jungle boy and bring him back to New York. Meanwhile, Mowgli's uncle wants to prevent the itinerant tyke from inheriting the family estate. A reasonable amount of the film is energetic and occasionally fun; Roddy McDowall makes an appearance as a mad old soldier and lifts the film out of its doldrums. But after awhile, the insipid narration and umpteenth slow-motion animal sequence make you want to stuff and mount the entire cast, especially Mowgli. Sgt. Kabukiman (1996) ***
From the makers of The Toxic Avenger comes this strange premise: A New York cop turns into a super-heroic Japanese ghost, decked out in Kabuki makeup and robes, when either aroused or angered. Really. A bizarre blend of gore, mirth, sex and violence that never takes itself too seriously, but then again, how could it? Specimen (1997) *1?2
Twenty years ago, aliens visited the Earth to experiment with humans. Now, they're back to check on the results, in particular a young stud endowed with powers he doesn't understand (and neither do we). He can do cool things like catch bullets and psychically start fires, but the ability to make this film remotely interesting seems to be beyond his grasp. The makers of this gender-reversed Species rip-off have overlooked the fact that the only thing its second-rate source material had going for it was Natasha Hestridge's ample "talents." Watch Me (1996) **
A photographer gets off watching his mysterious new neighbor get off while watching the photographer's girlfriend get off with the apartment manager. Vapid, voyeuristic and just silly enough to be fun, the movie shows how ridiculous peeping Toms are, wasting time watching exhibitionists engage in prurient acts...hey, wait a second... |
