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March 2, 2006 (Thursday):

Fearless Oscar Predictions

Making these predictions has become as annual a ritual as watching the Oscars. I do both with limited enthusiasm. Some people can't understand how I, a film critic, can dislike the Academy Awards. The reason is simple: they bore me. It's not an original complaint, I know, but I'm sure I would be less resentful of the Oscars if they were trimmed down and tightened up.

For the record, my predictions have been good the last two years: 86% in 2004 (missing three) and 81% in 2005 (missing four). Typically, I'm in the 60-70% range. My goal is to hit 67%. So here are some thoughts on the major awards, then a listing of what I think will win the rest. Keep in mind that these are guesses of what I think will win, not necessarily what I think should win.

Picture: I still believe that Brokeback Mountain is a lock. I know there has been a growing chorus touting an upset by Crash, but I don't see it. Every year, as the awards draw nigh, an attempt is made to inject a little excitement by talking about a "dark horse." The only recent occasion when an underdog has pulled off an upset is when Shakespeare in Love sunk Saving Private Ryan. So it could happen, but I don't think it will. I made a bet with Ian Kessinger to mention his theater, Park Plaza Cinemas in Hilton Head, if Crash wins. (If Brokeback Mountain wins, maybe I'll go back and delete the previous sentence.)

Director: Even the people who think Crash will win Best Picture concede that Ang Lee is the odds-on favorite for Best Director. Members of the Academy might like George Clooney, but that sentiment will not be enough to stem the tide in favor of Lee.

Actor: Phillip Seymour Hoffman. It's a strong field, comprised mainly of actors playing real (dead) people. My preference might have been David Strathairn, but I have no problem with Hoffman taking home the statue for playing Harper Lee's best pal. No one seems to be predicting any differently, so consider this another slam-dunk.

Actress: Reese Witherspoon. Some people think Felicity Huffman, because she's playing the kind of oddball that the Academy loves and because her TV show is hot. But my money's on Witherspoon. I think Witherspoon's likabilty and the good feeling for June Carter Cash will carry the day.

Supporting Actor: George Clooney. With apologies to Paul Giamatti, Clooney is just too popular not to win something. And this is his most likely category.

Supporting Actress: Michelle Williams or Rachel Weisz? I'm torn. How strong are Brokeback's coattails? Still, the closer my ear gets to the ground, the louder the whispers of Weisz's name sound. So I'll go with her, with the proviso that I won't be surprised if Williams usurps her spotlight. I will be surprised if Roger Ebert's favorite, Amy Adams, has a larger role than to sit, smile the "I'm happy for her" smile, and clap politely.

And the Rest… (As usual, I do not pick the short subjects)

Animated Feature: Wallace and Gromit
Art Direction: Good Night, and Good Luck
Cinematography: Good Night, and Good Luck
Costume Design: Pride & Prejudice
Documentary: March of the Penguins
Editing: Crash
Foreign Language Film: Tsotsi
Makeup: Cinderella Man
Musical Score: Brokeback Mountain
Music (Song): "In the Deep," Crash
Sound Editing: War of the Worlds
Sound Mixing: Walk the Line
Visual Effects: King Kong
Writing (Adapted): Brokeback Mountain
Writing (Original): Crash

So that's 21 predictions. I have to admit a few of them are shots in the dark, and a few others are based on intuition. So use these guesses in your Oscar pool at your own risk...

March 6, 2006 (Monday):

Eating Crow as a Midnight Snack

Okay, I'll start by admitting that I blew the call about Best Picture. So the rumors of Crash's ascension were not overstated. (I saw Carrie Rickey of The Philadelphia Inquirer on Friday morning, and she voiced a suspicion that Crash might win. Roger Ebert said the same thing.) Ultimately, since I don't believe either Crash or Brokeback Mountain was close to the best film of 2005, I wasn't disappointed. But I was nonplussed.

My final tally: 13 out of 21, or 62%. That puts me about where I expected to be. I was done in primarily by Memoirs of a Geisha, which inexplicably stole three awards. Of the majors, Best Picture was my only slip-up, but that's not as impressive as it might seem, since most of the other winners were heavy favorites. Outside of the minor categories, the Academy Awards had only one surprise, and that was unveiled at the end.

It's probably not a revelation for me to say I was bored. With speaker after speaker coming to the microphone to recite a shopping list of thank-you's, how could I not be? George Clooney was the only one to have a legitimate acceptance speech. It wasn't a great one but, when compared to everyone else's, it was masterful. Philip Seymour Hoffman stumbled and bumbled around for about two minutes (and didn't bark once) and Reese Witherspoon prattled on forever. (Why didn't Bill Conti strike up the band and put her out of her misery?) Only a few recipients seemed truly thrilled: the director of Tsotsi (Gavin Hood) and the Best Song recipients, who appeared stunned by their victory.

The time has come for the Academy to institute a "no thank you" rule. Winners get 60 seconds to speak but the moment they start thanking anyone, their mike is killed. If all a winner is going to do is thank people, he/she might as well say nothing.

The montages were a waste of time, apparently designed to pad out the running length so it could reach the 3 1/2 hour mark. After all, a longer telecast means more commercials and more money. ABC didn't want to risk the golden calf crossing the finish line before 11:30 EST. To add insult to injury, one of the montages was essentially an advertisment for movie theaters. Then there was the Lauren Bacall embarrassment. Not only couldn't she read the teleprompter, but she appeared fragile and unsteady on her feet. Robert Altman wasn't in much better shape, but at least he had a legitimate reason to be there. Bacall's appearance was ill advised and sad. Much better to remember her as the sultry siren of the screen than the struggling woman who stumbled over her lines last night.

What the hell was that on Charlize Theron's left shoulder?

The Ben Stiller comedy bit was cringe-worthy, but no more so than the Tom Hanks "warning" to those who would overstay their on-stage welcome. Everyone was depressingly well behaved. Was I the only one who was disappointed that Jennifer Garner stayed on her feet? Not that I would want her to be injured, but if she had taken a tumble, it would have injected a little life into the proceedings. Nothing like a pratfall to break the monotony.

About Jon Stewart... His fans are out in force today, praising his work. In my view, he was adequate but not memorable. His best stuff was the pre-recorded material: the opening skit and the poltical commercials for the Best Actress nominees. During the course of the evening, he had his share of sharp one-liners, but they were no more remarkable than off-the-cuff observations offered by Chris Rock or Steve Martin or Billy Crystal. His opening monologue was amusing but lacked an edge. It reminded me of the kind of thing Jay Leno and David Lettermen use to start out their late night TV shows.

I'm not sure the Oscars needs a host. How much did Stewart really contribute? The presenters do all the real work, even if they look like zombies reading their material off the teleprompter. Next year, if the host is going to remain, why not do a little out-of-the-box thinking in the selection process? My choice would still be John Cleese. If Cleese can rip Graham Chapman at his funeral, what would he do with this holiest of Hollywood love-ins? (My gut feeling is that it will be Crystal or Martin.)

I did not fall asleep during the Oscars because I was multi-tasking. That was the only way to stave off total boredom and to feel like I wasn't wasting 210 minutes of my life. Next year, I'm going to DVR the ceremony and start watching around 10:30. I guarantee I'll be caught up before it all ends and I'll be able to skip 21 choruses of "Thank you."

Perhaps the most depressing thing of all is that last night, I missed Michael Moore. As inappropriate as his speech may have been, at least it was unique and spontaneous. It generated some heat. Last night was like going to a high society banquet. Everything was pristine and in its place. No one behaved badly. It's what every bride and groom hopes for on their wedding day, and what every guest secretly dreads. Mistakes and mishaps give events character. (Nothing went wrong at my wedding. At my sister's wedding, a photographer tumbled down a flight of stairs and bled a lot. Guess which ceremony is more vividly etched in the memories of those who attended both?) But the only character evidenced by the 2006 Oscars was one of blandness. A year from now, I'll be hard-pressed to remember any of the winners.

March 8, 2006 (Wednesday):

Totaled!

Thoughts on the ramifications of Crash winning Best Picture... (Since everyone else is weighing in on this, I figured, "Why not?" One more fly buzzing around two days-old roadkill won't make a difference.)

It amazes me the way fans of Brokeback Mountain have reacted to "their" movie not emerging victorious. In an astonishing display of bad sportsmanship, they have played the homophobe card without considering the fact that Phillip Seymour Hoffman won Best Actor for playing a gay man. And Truman Capote was an effete gay man, not the studly sort populating Brokeback Mountain.

In my opinion, Crash and Brokeback were on about equal footing - the two least deserving of the nominees. I'm tempted to say it's a travesty that either one ended up in the Final Five, but that language would be too strong, and it denies the fact that the Academy Awards are more about perception and politics than reality. Nowhere was that more apparent than in the inexplicable denial of a Best Visual Effects nomination to Revenge of the Sith. It's incomprehensible to me that the film was left out in the cold in this category, but it speaks volumes about the nomination process.

So the Brokeback fans are pissed that Crash won. And the Crash fans are pissed that the Brokeback fans are saying nasty things about them. Words like "racism" and "homophobia" are being tossed around. Critics are taking sides. Maybe ABC should have skipped televising the awards and opted instead to show the aftermath. It's turning into a regular WWF smackdown.

For me, the most interesting aspect of the Crash victory is the decision to re-open it in 150 theaters. It's already out on DVD, so this represents a case study of whether audiences will show up for theatrical screenings of a movie they could easily see at home. It would surprise me if the movie does well. My suspicion is that everyone who wants to see Crash has already seen it, and the Best Picture win isn't going to mean that much in terms of box office revenue. It's another matter on DVD, where people are more willing to try "new things." After all, they can turn it off half-way through if they don't like it, and send it back to Netflix the next day. And some DVD collectors will want to add it to their collection because it is a Best Picture. (For the record, it has been in mine since the week it was released on DVD. A screener copy of Brokeback Mountain is also there.)

Earlier today, just for fun, I randomly asked ten people at my day job workplace if they knew what won the Best Picture this year and last year. The results were interesting (although not statistically relevant, since the sample size was so small). Six out of ten knew Sunday's winner was Crash. Three thought it was Brokeback Mountain. And one didn't know (or care, apparently). Five out of ten couldn't remember last year's winner. Four thought it was The Lord of the Rings (which won the year before). Only one remembered it was Million Dollar Baby. So much for the staying power of an Oscar victory.

Next year at this time, it will be interesting to see if even 10% remember Crash. I bet they won't, and maybe that's what's really wrong with the Oscars. Their impact has been diluted by dozens of other awards shows, and one has to wonder whether they're slipping toward irrelevance, following slowly in the path blazed by the Miss America Pageant. (Imagine: 20 years from now, the Academy Awards airing on an obscure cable channel...) To quote from a movie that once was nominated for Best Picture (but didn't win): "It's the pictures that got small." After this year's Oscars, can anyone argue the truth in that line?

Feel free to disagree. I know many of you do.

March 16, 2006 (Thursday):

One Year Later

With those three words, placed on screen 70 minutes into the 90-minute season finale of TV's Battlestar Galactica, everything changed. A schism developed amidst the series' fan base: those who loved what the show's producers did and those who hated it. It was either a daring act or a case of another TV program jumping the shark. Fence-sitters were few and far between. To make my position clear, I'm one of those who applaud what Ron Moore and his crew did. It's another gutsy move for a show that has never shied from controversy or doing things that might alienate potential viewers. What a mind frak!

Effectively, the second season curtain call concluded the series we have been following for one mini-series and 33 episodes, and started something new - a "sequel series" featuring many of the same characters and ideas, but time-shifted from where we're used to them being. The disadvantages of the approach are obvious: a sudden, disorienting disconnect; confusion about unresolved issues; and a sense of being cheated out of seeing the characters develop over the missing year.

The advantages are compelling. By skipping over the dull material that would comprise the etablishment of the New Caprica colony, we are allowed to dive into the deep end and immediately immerse ourselves in new dramatic possibilities. Relationships may have changed, but the characters are all still there - it will just take an episode or two to re-connect with them and figure out what changes have occurred over the passage of time. Most imporatantly, it shakes things up. Too many TV series die an uninspired death because they fail to embrace change or embrace it unwillingly. If Ron Moore had listened to his nay-sayers, this version of Battlestar Galactica would never have been born. (Even Richard Hatch, the most outspoken of Moore's early critics, has been brought into the fold with a recurring role that's more interesting than his original Apollo. If only Dirk Benedict would follow suit... But I digress.)

We accept movie sequels; why is it so difficult to accept the same concept when it comes to a TV series? An unspecified, but significant, period of time passed between the end of Star Wars and the begining of The Empire Strikes Back. During that period, situations and character relationships changed. But no one complained about the leap forward. Yet when Battlestar Galactica does this, it sets off a firestorm of controversy. Would it have been better for Moore and company to make the "one year later" break between seasons? I don't think so. This way, we have been offered a glimpse of where things are going and can speculate about a variety of tantalzing possibilities. Consider the final 20 minutes of the season finale an extended "Next on Battlestar Galactica preview.

My hope is that the temporal discontinuity will re-invigorate a show that had begun to lose energy. Over the last five or six episodes, Battlestar Galactica had shown signs of storyline lethargy. Now, with a human colony under Cylon occupation, the possibilities multiply. My guess is that before the third season is over, we'll be back to the basic premise of a ragtag fleet searching for Earth. "One year later" doesn't mean that the path has been lost, just that a detour has been taken.

One thing I hope they don't do, though: flashbacks. I would hate to see the first few episodes of season three turn into an outer space version of Lost. Keep things moving forward; don't look back. A flashback or two highlighting key events (such as what drove the rift between Apollo and Starbuck) is okay, but don't belabor the point. If there's a lot of stuff in the missing year that needs to be accounted for, then it shouldn't have been skipped in the first place. And, no, I don't think it's a dream. Moore would never insult his audience like that.

The only problem with this is that we now must wait seven months instead of four to see the next episode. Some have speculated this means that Galactica is headed for NBC, but I think it's an experiment on the part of the Sci-Fi channel to see if their flagship series can compete with the big boys. Until then, there's Doctor Who, and that's not a bad consolation prize.

March 17, 2006 (Friday):

Welcoming Who

For those in the United States who (a) don't live near the Canadian border, (b) don't have a region-free DVD player, or (c) don't play around in the land of bittorrents, tonight may represent a first exposure to a unique television show. At 9:00 EST, the Sci-Fi Channel is rolling out the 2-hour premiere of Doctor Who (referred to as "New Who" by longtime fans). Doctor Who is British science fiction, which means it's not as dour or serious as that with an American flavor, and it may takE a little getting used to. It's also family friendly, which means there's not a lot of "objectionable" content.

For those who have been exposed to, and didn't like, "Old Who," there are reasons to give the new series a chance. First of all, while there was not a complete re-boot of the Doctor's mythology, this is a fresh start. The stories are told at a faster pace, with almost no fat. The special effects are greatly improved. And there's a different dynamic in the Doctor/companion relationship (more on that in a moment). The "feel" of the program is a lot different than that of its earlier counterpart.

As with all TV programs, the writing is not consistent. There are good episodes, mediocre epsiodes, and bad episodes. Sadly, the introductory story, "Rose" (which comprises the first half of tonight's two-hour slot), is probably the worst (or the second worst) of the season's 13 installments. It is hampered by the need to introduce the characters, establish the relationships, and convince us we're looking at something made in 2005, not 1985. The second hour, "The End of the World," is an improvement. Visually, it's impressive, and the pace isn't as frantic. And if these two episodes don't do anything for you, at least give next Friday's installment, "The Unquiet Dead," a chance. It's the best of the series' first six episodes. If you're not hooked by then, Doctor Who may not be for you.

Of all the elements in "New Who," the one I like the best is the relationship between the Doctor and Rose. Over the years, the Doctor has had his share of young, attractive, female companions, but the relationship has been platonic and/or paternal. On only one previous occasion has there been a hint of romantic interest, and that's because the two actors were involved off-screen. (Tom Baker's Fourth Doctor and Lalla Ward's Romana.) But with the (new) Doctor and Rose, it's a different story.

It doesn't require much imagination to see the relationship between the Doctor and Rose as a romance. In the end, there's no sex, but there are heartfelt admissions of affection, lots of hand-holding, a little dancing, and a mouth-to-mouth kiss. Even in the worst written epiodes, the interaction between these two never falters. For the 900-year old Doctor, it's a new experience (falling in love), and it shows in how he relates to Rose. He wants to please her in a way he has never before wanted to please a companion. In the past, he has grudgingly accepted the admission of a new assistant into his TARDIS. Here, he invites her in and asks her where/when she wants to go. Consider this interpretation for the end of "Rose:" this is a guy asking a girl out on a date. He's persistent, and when she initially turns him down, he dangles an enticement she can't refuse.

A great deal of the credit must go to the actors. It's no surprise that Christopher Eccleston does a good job as the Doctor. He is, after all, a talented and experienced thespian. The real eye-opener, however, is Billie Piper. A former pop star, she displays both ability and likeability, and makes Rose almost instantly one of the best companions the Doctor has been paired with. (On my list, she's at #2, behind the irrepressible Sarah Jane Smith.)

My recommendation is to give Doctor Who a chance. If not for the gothic TARDIS interior, the creepy walking mannequins, the man-eating trash cans, and the otherwordly aliens, then for the simple appreciation of how two very different people can meet and become more to each other than either could have anticipated.

March 20, 2006 (Monday):

Anatomy of a Review

I frequently receive what I call "procedural questions." These are from readers who are interested in the nuts-and-bolts aspects of review writing. How long does it take to write a review? Do I write immediately after seeing a movie or do I wait a while to allow the impressions to congeal? Do I follow a template? So today's column is an attempt to answer as many process-related questions as possible.

I see about 75% of my annual quota of films during mid-week press screenings. The lure of these isn't so much that they're free (factoring in gasoline and parking fees, they can end up costing more than the price of admission to my neighborhood theater), but they allow me to have the review written before opening day. The highest concentration of interest centered around a new movie is during its first weekend of availability, so that's when the review should be accessible. In fact, when I see a film after opening weekend, I frequently don't write a review. The exception is if it looks like a potential end of the year Top 10 contender.

There are two common times for screenings: 10 am and 7:30 pm. The former are typically press-only, but I can attend only a select number of these due to possible conflicts with my day job. The latter are press/publicity screenings (often overflowing with radio station contest winnners), and are easier to get to but often less pleasant to endure. (The guy in front of me snores. The guy next to me hasn't bathed in two weeks. And the guy behind me keeps mumbling to himself or kicking the back of my seat. Sounds like a publicity screening at the theater where I no longer attend these gala events.)

My car ride home after the movie is a little more than an hour, so that gives me plenty of time to think about what I have seen and what I'm going to write. For morning screenings, I usually end up writing the review at night. For night screenings, unless I'm unusually wide awake when I get home (due to a high dose of caffeine), I wait until the next day. I rarely allow a review to sit unwritten for more than a few days because the impressions fade and, anal person that I am, I hate to develop a backlog.

An average 700-word review takes between 30 and 50 minutes to write, depending on how focused I am. My preference is to write the whole thing in one sitting. If I'm interrupted, I'm almost never able to get back into the flow, and the second half of the review ends up less inspired than the first half. I only have two rules about content: my opinion of the film has to be clear and there needs to be at least a minimal synopsis of sorts. Other than that, I let the thoughts spill out however they come to mind. The review is over when I no longer have anything worthwhile to say. (Some would argue that's after the first sentence.) And I never agonize over the number of stars. I pretty much know what they are and on those occasions when I have to lean one way or another, I don't spend too much time thinking about it.

I edit each review once, and once only, about 24 hours after I write it. (Except when I'm bumping against a deadline and need to get it up fast.) Some reviews require only minor changes. Others need major re-writes. I can recall a time when I wrote a review while under the influence of NyQuil. I read it the next day and couldn't understand what I was trying to say. Fortunately, that degree of rambling incoherence is unusual.

In an ideal world, the review would be posted as soon as it is completed. But the real world requires striking a balance between making the review available in a timely fashion and not angering the publicists, who want to control pre-release "leaks." So, like almost every other Internet critic, I walk a tightrope. (Positive reviews can go up a day or two earlier than negative ones, since publicists are forgiving of anything that helps build the hype.) The "coming soon" dates I provide on the new review page are estimates of when the review will be posted, not promises. Life can interfere in the most aggravating ways.

Hopefully, this discourse hasn't put too many readers to sleep. Thankfully, it's not the kind of subject that will generate a lot of e-mail. This is a busy week for movies. I'm seeing a lot of them, even though I'm only posting one new review. The impending opening of the Philadelphia Film Festival means an upswing in screenings, so I'll be kept busy for the next few weeks. But I'll try to sneak in a ReelThought here and there, as time allows.

March 27, 2006 (Monday):

The First Sin

A month or so ago, I wrote a column about one of journalism's deadly sins: lying in a piece that is supposed to be non-fiction. In recent years, a number of high-profile writers have been called on the carpet for reporting stories that were either (1) improperly fact-checked, (2) partially made-up, or (3) complete fabrications. The movie Shattered Glass provided an account of one of these cases. (In an instance of irony, Mr. Glass, the film's subject, accused the screenwriters of misrepresenting portions of the story. This may be the case, but Shattered Glass never presented itself as non-fiction. Narrative movies are allowed to play fast and loose with the facts.)

But there's a bigger sin out there that often goes unnoticed: plagiarism. I learned early in life that it was wrong to copy someone else's words without proper attribution. I can't say at what age this lesson was drummed into my head, but it was during grade school. Even in the pre-Internet era, there were plenty of opportunites. Libraries contain numerous obscure reference materials that no teacher would be able to check. But I never did it. In fact, it never occured to me that it was an option.

Years later, when I began to write reviews, I was so paranoid about the possibility of unintentionally plagiarizing someone (having a phrase get stuck in my subconscious then be regurgiated in a review) that I avoided reading anything about a movie until after my view was in writing. Most writers are like me - hard-working men and women who find ways to reconstruct their thoughts on paper without seeking outside "help." On those occasions when someone has said something better than we could, we cite the source and use quotation marks. (I'm obsessive about this. In a recent review of Basic Instict, I used quotation marks for an unpublished 1992 review that I wrote. I didn't have to do that - I don't think one can plagiarize oneself - but it felt like the appropriate approach.)

I have been plagiarized. Numerous times. I stopped keeping count years ago. It happens so regularly that I have ceased being shocked, and maybe that's a bad thing. And those are only the times when someone has recognized the pilfering and alerted me to it. I'm guessing that represents less than 10% of the total number of incidents. The reality of the Internet is that it has made plagiarism an easy option. No longer is it necessary to pore over dusty volumes in the back room of some library. Now it can be done at home with a visit to Google and a Ctrl-C/Ctrl-V combination.

Most of my plagiarists are students writing papers. Their teachers catch them. I can recount one interesting recent instance. A high school teacher found "suspicious language" in one of his student's papers. He did a Google word search and found my review. He compared what his student had written to what I had on-line and found that there were too many similarities for it to be a coincidence. He gave the student an F. Then the student's parents got involved, claiming that their son had not done anything wrong. They argued that I had somehow gotten a copy of their son's paper and plagiarised him. It wasn't hard to defend myself against the charge. It was an old review - one that had originally been posted in rec.arts.movies.reviews, so all I had to do was point the parents and teacher to an archive of Usenet postings (which contain verifiable dates). This confirmed that I had written the review when the student in question was in first grade. The matter ended there, but I was irritated that I had been forced into the position of expending time and effort arguing this case.

Most of the time, I can dismiss high school students with a shrug. They're lazy or late, and do what's most expedient. Although I won't condone it, I'm not going to adopt a holier-than-thou attitude. But when the offender is doing this professionally, I take action (especially if they're collecting a paycheck). In most cases, removal of the article containing the plagiarism (if it's on-line) or publishing a retraction (if it's in print) is acceptable. Thus far, I have been fortunate in that I haven't run into an author who denies the plagiarism (although I have heard a number of excuses), and all the editors I have communicated with have been helpful.

It amazes me how many readers have identified instances in which my reviews have been plagiarized. Frankly, I'm not sure I would recognize my own stuff in someone else's article. To those who are providing this policing, many thanks. Despite being the journalist's #1 sin, it can be difficult to spot because familiarity is needed with the original text. As consumers of words, we have a right to believe that what we are reading is the work of the person whose name appears on the byline. Anything less is an act of fraud.

Let me conclude by stating that this rumination was inspired by the recent case of Ben Domenech, a blogger who resigned from the Washington Post's website after being accused of plagiarism. For more information, check out the Salon.com article.

March 31, 2006 (Friday):

Why the Ship Won't Sink

Originally, I was going to post this tomorrow. Upon remembering that April 1 is not the best day to post anything, I decided to get it up today. So don't expect any postings tomorrow. I'll take April Fool's Day off - that way no one will have to wonder whether there's a practical joke to be uncovered on this site.

Not long ago, I was reluctant to discuss a film's box office receipts, reasoning that the weekend grosses didn't represent a sporting event where there were "winners" and "losers." Over the months and years, however, I have modified my approach, giving way to the inevitable. Box office dollars have become a big deal. People bet on them. People talk about them. They're a legitimate news story. I still wonder why sometimes, though.

One question I occasionally get (and sometimes ignore) is how long I think it will be before a movie knocks Titanic off the perch of all-time domestic box office champion ($600 million). My answer: perhaps never. Titanic was, in box office terms, a "perfect storm." It had the nostalgia element, so it appealed to older viewers. It was a serious drama, so it appealed to adults. It featured cool special effects and a sinking ship, so it appealed to teenage boys. And it had Leonardo DiCaprio, so it appealed to teenage girls (who saw it time after time after time). I can't think of another movie that reached so many different demographics. Romance, adventure, nudity, death, disaster, cutting edge special effects - Cameron's film had something for everyone.

When it opened, five months late (it was originally slated for the July 4 weekend, then pulled when Cameron pronounced that the effects needed more work), it didn't look like a box-office juggernaut. During its first week out, it fought the James Bond movie Tomorrow Never Dies tooth-and-nail for first place (Titanic won, $28.6 million to $25.1 million). The week after that - Christmas week - it exploded, raking in $60 million between December 24 and December 30. Most experts credit girls for keeping the film afloat. Females in the 13-17 year old range didn't only see the movie once or twice - many returned week after week. The film's total gross is all the more astounding when you consider that it's more than three hours long, meaning fewer showings per theater per day.

Since Titanic, nothing has come close to the $500 million mark. That includes the highly anticipated Star Wars prequels, a trilogy of ground-breaking Lord of the Rings epics, and a couple of Spider-Man movies. If none of those could do it, it raises the question of: What can? Especially now, with more people than ever waiting for the DVD release, it would be tough for anything to assail Mount $600 Million. One could make an argument that, 25 years from now, when ticket prices are $25 per admission, some blockbuster might slip past Titanic, but that assumes that the movie industry won't change much in the next quarter century. In fact, it's likely that cinematic entertainment will be very different in 2030 than it is today.

Of course, I could be misreading audiences, but I don't think so. In fact, if Titanic arrived in theaters today, it wouldn't come close to making what it did in 1997. In nine years, multiplexes have undergone fundamental changes. They are teen-dominated in a way they weren't last decade. The home video market, which was only a fraction of the theatrical market in 1997, has exploded, turning the cinematic release into a preview for the DVD. Titanic's perfect storm has passed, and it doesn't look like conditions will be right for another one any time in the near future.

©2006 James Berardinelli