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It is the end of August, and the Labor Day holiday weekend is here. This is considered by the film industry to be the end of the summer movie season. Since Steven Spielberg invented the modern blockbuster when he made Jaws in 1975 (and due to the near-coincidental arrival of air-conditioning in most movie theatres), this has been the most important season for the Hollywood film studios. I am going to be mildly self-indulgent and give the readers of Samizdata a lengthy overview of what I think happened to Hollywood this summer, largely from a business point of view, but also from a creative point of view. This is going to be much longer than a normal Samizdata article, but I am assuming that my editors will indulge me just this once. Or maybe I shall receive what is known in Samizdata speak as an “editorial spanking”. We shall see. However, I think most of the following is quite interesting.
One sad fact is that I am in Britain, and films are usually released in this country anything from the same day as in the US to a couple of months after they are released in the US. Sometimes though it can be longer. What this means is that there are one or two big summer releases I haven’t seen. The most important of these is Finding Nemo, which is being held over until the holiday season here in the UK, despite being the highest grossing film of the summer in the US.
However, in order to explain why certain films are hits and some are not, an overview of recent year Hollywood economics is necessary. So, a little digression first.
→ Continue reading: Thoughts on Hollywood’s lousy summer
Ever since Instapundit pointed out, during all that faking of stories scandal, that the NYT may be politically all over the place on pages one, two, etc., but that on page n as n tends to infinity it has great technology coverage, I’ve been making a point of looking at that, and he’s right.
This, for example, from the New York Times today, sounds really interesting:
Standing on four metal legs, under two banks of fluorescent lights, was what appeared to be a modest-size billboard, measuring about 9 feet wide by 4 feet in height. Across its face, which looks like paper under glass, was a full-color advertisement for a soft drink maker. A few moments later the ad disappeared and was digitally replaced with a different one, and then another, like a screensaver cycling through images on a laptop computer screen.
But the surface of this billboard is not a liquid crystal diode screen – the energy-hungry display common to laptops and increasingly to cellphones, digital cameras, digital organizers and flat-screen computer monitors and television sets. Neither does this billboard share the light-emitting-diode technology that makes million-dollar-plus video screens light up the night in Times Square, Las Vegas and sports arenas around the world.
What makes the electronic billboard in Jersey City possible (and those installed for trials in London, Tokyo, Toronto and Panama City, among other locations) is an innovation by a New York-based display technology company whose name, Magink, is a combination of the words magic and ink. Its approach to imaging departs from the way most text, graphics and images are electronically presented, including the way expensive plasma screens work, as well as cathode-ray tubes, the old workhorses still found in most television sets and desktop computer monitors.
By creating a paste made of tiny helix-shaped particles that can be minutely manipulated with electric charges to reflect light in highly specific ways, Magink can produce surfaces that look like paper but behave like electronic screens, rendering high-resolution, full-color images without ink – or, as Magink executives like to refer to the process, with digital ink.
Ran Poliakine, chief executive of Magink, said the idea was to create visually compelling ads that could be replaced frequently – perhaps hourly, based on consumer response – and could be controlled remotely, all with far less energy and at a far lower cost than a video billboard.
It looks like paper. It’s cheaper than the usual screens, and easier to update. “Digital ink.” Wow.
I’m not any sort of techno-buff, but it sounds as if this technology differs radically from the usual screen technology in that it starts out being pretty big, but is rather hard to make small enough to fit on my desk. But they’ll get there, surely.
I don’t know about you, but when I am faced with a twenty page article on the internet, I do a print-out. Paper is just so much nicer than that screen shining so brightly at you. It’s the difference between reading something on the surface of a torch, and reading something on a surface. This stuff doesn’t shine light at you in an exhausting glare. It just reflects it, the way paper does.
It often happens that advertising cleans out the tubes of a new way of presenting messages, if only because novelty itself is the lifeblood of advertising – it gets your attention even if it does look cranky, because it looks cranky. Ten years later, it isn’t so cranky anymore and the advertisers are losing interest. But the R&D has had a big early contribution and Western Civilisation marches onwards. Just one more reason to love advertising.
Because what this really sounds like to me is the future of … reading!
Ah, the free market. Don’t you love it? When offered a Two Towers DVD at Victoria station by WH Smiths, on Friday, for £18.99, three days ahead of the supposed release date, I had to turn it down for three reasons:
- My mother-in-law, whom I was visiting in Worthing, has no DVD player.
- I didn’t want to have to go back to Victoria to change it, if it was scratched.
- I knew those nice people at Tescos would have a better deal, and I would be driving right past the Tescos in Henley on Monday, on the way back from Worthing.
And lo, the Two Towers two-disk set was mine, as I’d predicted, for a mere £11-99, provided I spent fifty quid on other Tesco items. Oh please, I never get out of there for less than a full ton (£100) these days, what with nappies, slim-line tonics, and Atkins’ diet steaks. So laughing all the way to the till, with a trolley load including two small steaks valued at my saving of seven pounds, I inwardly praised Adam Smith and the mysterious workings of the free market, before I bore the precious item home. → Continue reading: Lord of the DVDs: Thank God for Tescos
If you like your music with a positive, pro-technology and pro-future outlook, ZIA is the band for you.
ZIA has gigged successfully in the competitive New York City scene for nearly a decade. They have had their Rite of Passage: a review by The Village Voice. They developed a following and produced a number of excellent recordings. You can download a bunch of tracks from their web site and order any of the discography.
ZIA is 1990’s music, full of sythesizers and strange instruments. If you aren’t a cultural “old fart”, you’ll love it. Even if you are, you may still love the subject matter. They talk about settling Mars, going back to the Moon, winning the X-Prize and about the simple yearning of all us spacers… to get off this frigging planet. True, ‘filkers’ cover some of the same ground, but they and their material are not suitable for a Lower East music venue. Kids who haven’t even looked up at the seven or so stars in the nightime sky of Manhattan can drink and party to ZIA.
Full disclosure: I’m not exactly unbiased since I know the writer, Elaine Walker, and work with her in the National Space Society. Remember her name. Someday she’ll be running an industrial conglomerate in space.
ZIA performance at 1999 International Space Development Conference
Photo: D. Amon, all rights reserved
PS: I understand Elaine is moving out of NYC, so I don’t know what is happening with the band. Watch their web site. I’m sure the information will show up there.
Are you ready, DVD Sports fans? Are you ready for Lord of the Rings, Part II?
It’s no good, I should’ve been a film star. Ok, so when I was seventeen I was spotty, overweight, and without any acting talent whatsoever, but I should’ve still been a film star. Under a socialist society I would’ve been spotted by now, for being an immense actor of charisma, talent, and conviction, but unfortunately, with society being still unprepared for my raw presence, under the evil rule of Mr Tony Blair, a hammish actor with only a scintilla of my ability to project compassion, emotion, and downright plain falsity, I was doomed to have to work for a living, to pay his bleedin’ wages. Damn!
Should’ve been a politician. → Continue reading: Lord of the DVDs
The most absurd intellectual property rights claim ever?
With their earthy tones and lizard motifs, Prince Harry’s paintings won admiration at home and last week earned him a grade B at A-level. But his work has stirred anger in Western Australia, where he is accused of stealing Aboriginal themes.
The moral pygmies claiming ‘ownership’ of the images drawn by artists who died hundreds of years ago must be the world’s biggest losers. Inacapable of artistic expression themselves, they demand the unearned greatness of their remote ancestors.
How sad that genuine aboriginal achievements are drowned out by the moochers!
The first foreign cricket team to visit England (in 1868) was comprised entirely of aboriginal players. Subsequently, Australian cricket authorities tried to forget about this as more than a century passed without a non-white player. Are they excluded from clubs, does the welfare system turn an entire race into a dependent underclass?
I don’t suppose that the professional racial-awareness poverty pimps are demanding that aborigines stop getting welfare and solve their problems by economic means.
For the record, one of my French ancestors wore the Crusaders’ red cross on white background in Palestine. Does this mean I should sue England soccer supporters for ‘violating’ my heritage, after all their king only went on the Third Crusade?
Kevin Connors talks about a certain British civil servant with a licence to kill, er, drive
Bond purists know that there are only two ‘proper’ cars for 007 to drive, an Aston or a Bentley. But for many years, while the British auto industry decayed, neither Aston or Bentley produced anything James would be caught dead in (book readers might recall Gardner gave him a Mulsanne Turbo in 1984). But over the last decade, the British Car business has been undergoing a renaissance, riding a wave of American and German capital and technology. The fruits of this are really starting to come now. Two years ago, Aston Martin (now owned by Ford) introduced their beautiful V12 Vanquish, seen in last year’s Die Another Day. But still, relative to the breathtaking Ferrari 575M Maranello, it’s only real competition, most automotive commentators declared it an also-ran. (While the comparison is far closer than that of the classic DB5, introduced in Goldfinger, and the 1964 Ferrari 500 Superfast, to say nothing of the incomparable 250GTO. Even the Lamborghini 350GT and Maserati 3500 GT, would likely have cleaned the DB5’s clock.)
Now, all that is behind us. After many teases, Bentley Motor Cars, (now owned by Volkswagen) is finally releasing their latest masterpiece, the Bentley Continental GT:
It has no competition.
This 4 passenger, 5000lb, W-12, AWD monster does 0-60 in 4.7 seconds, the same as a Porsche Carrera. It tops out at 198 mph, faster than all but a handful of 2 seat super-exotics. All this while coddling the passengers in the lap of luxury.
With plenty of room for Q to hide toys, this is a car Commander Bond would love. Of course, the next car 007 actually drives will be determined by the real world consideration of how much the manufacturers are willing to pony up in product placement money. And, although the producers know the fans want to see Bond in a British car (and not a plastic toy Lotus, even if it does go underwater), If Toyota forked over enough, James might be driving the new Supra.
BUT WAIT!
There’s a new player on the scene
I didn’t consider this at first, because of the leading name on the moniker. However, on further consideration, there’s likely more actual British engineering and manufacturing content in this than the Bentley. Ladies and gentleman, coming in about six months, I give you the revolutionary Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren:
As opposed to the Bentley’s porcine two and a half ton mass, carbon composite construction helps keep the SLR to a svelte one and three-quarters. This, along with slightly greater horsepower (580, not 605 as stated on spec. sheet), shave a full second off the Bentley’s 0-60 time. Top speed is 211 mph. A handful of currently available automobiles are in the performance league with the SLR: the Lamborghini Murcielago (also VW, btw), the Pagani Zonda C12-S 7.2, the Ferrari Enzo, and the Saleen S7. But all these are, to one degree or another, racing cars for the street. The SLR promises to be the first super-exotic that’s also a viable daily driver.
Of course, the SLR costs (before Q-izing) two or three times the price of the Bentley. But, to Her Majesty’s Government, it’s just chump change seeing as they have all those taxpayers to call on.
With Mr Schwarzenegger throwing his hat into the ring of the California Governorship, I thought it was my aspiring libertarian duty to the spirit of freedom, to take in the Austrian candidate’s latest mega-movie, Terminator 3, Rise of the Machines. So I beat a warm and humid trail from a jet-engine air-conditioned hotel in the salubrious Euston area of London, to the fragrant Leicester Square, home to a million and one interesting smells emanating from the great hoi polloi of old London Town.
I managed to scramble about the last ticket sold, for the early evening performance at the Odeon cinema, and only managed to sit down and switch off my mobile phone ten seconds before the opening credits began.
So, first impressions? If there’s a Terminator 4, I’ll be back. (Come on, we’ve got to get these things out of the way when reviewing Arnie films. I’ll try to get all the others in as soon as I can, to ease the pain.)
Second impressions? To hell with what the literati London critics said about this film. I’m a lowbrow and I need regular jolts of science-fiction-style entertainment to get me through this rollercoaster we know as life. And Arnie films almost always do the trick (except for Twins, of course.)
In Terminator 3, Arnold once again delivers the goods. Can he really be 56 years old? I hope I have pectorals like that when I’m 56. Hell, I wish I’d had pectorals like that when I was 23. → Continue reading: Terminator 3, Rise of the Machines
And so, as Jack Bauer ends his ordeal without any sleep, any trips to the bathroom, or any visible form of food other than sporadic liquid snacks sucked at the wheel of the latest stolen car (Sorry Sir, we have to take your vehicle), I wonder to myself…
What the heck am I going to do on Sunday nights, for the next six months?
Is 24 the only program currently on television, which is in any way worth coming home to watch, of an evening? And now it’s not on again, until Season 3, what’s the point of that glassy tube in the corner of the room? Perhaps I should replace it with a neverending loop of The Simpsons?
I won’t spoil 24’s ending, for those with wills of iron who’ve videoed the last episode, and who’re watching it later, except to say the script writers could’ve spent a little more time working on some of the slushier last-reel dialogue. However, except for this single forgivable rewriting lapse, I’ll be there for Season 3, propped up with a glass of Californian red, a cheese board, and a syringe full of adrenaline for heart-stopping emergencies.
OK, so it’s Federal US agents, paid for with coerced taxes, and the US government cabinet is populated with dimwits, fascists, and believers in Medicaid, but what a series! And what a body count! Is Kiefer Sutherland going to be the first James Bond born on the wrong side of the Atlantic? I don’t know, but whatever the weather, and if he can’t do a proper British accent, he’d certainly make a great Felix Leiter, or an excellent villain. (And with a Scottish surname, like Sutherland, surely he can cut the Connery-esque mustard?)
So, as I wander into the night, to prepare for another week teaching 26 people the joys of learning Perl (oh, those lucky people!), I also wonder how close to the knuckle the next series can go? It got really razor-blade sharp this time, with calls for leaders not to go to war against Middle East countries without really conclusive evidence (were you watching there, in Barbados, Mr ’45 minutes, Niger Yellowcake’ Blair?), but Season 2 is going to be a hard monkey to slap. However, I have faith.
Go, Kiefer baby, go!
Aaron Barschak, the loon who thought it was amusing to dress up as bin Laden and gatecrash a fancy dress party hosted by the Royals, has not been able to draw in the crowds at the Edinburgh arts festival this year, according to this report.
The gag is definitely on him. Here’s hoping he crawls under a rock where he came from. Sorry to be killjoy, but dressing up as terrorist is not my idea of a joke.
It certainly is. Says Michael Blowhard:
The time has finally come for traditional artists to give up the fight. To just lay down those clunky old analog tools. What’s the point in carrying on a battle that’s already lost?
Go here and do what Michael says.
This one is my favourite. Mouse click on one of the row of dots at the bottom, and enjoy.
Michael again:
Whew: interactivity, beauty, wit, play, moods. And more art ‘n’ talent ‘n’ creativity on display here than in —
OK, I am raving. Still: pretty darn cool.
Indeed.
Anyone here know of other stuff like this?
The BBC’s flagship radio station, Radio1, has dropped below the 10 million listeners barrier for the first time in its history, as reported in today’s Grauniad.
In a related piece, in today’s Torygraph, Neil McCormick questions the way records are selected for Radio1’s main play-list. Apparently, it’s done in exactly the same way that commercial radio stations do it.
Which begs the immediate questions; what then is the purpose of Radio1? And why are we tax-plebs forced to contribute so much towards it, via the BBC licence fee? In the commercial arena its listeners could easily pay for it via the advertising market they would generate.
I hope the funding, which goes into Radio1, isn’t being used to support an otherwise large and unnecessary layer of grateful lefties, in palatial BBC comfort, to stop them having to work for a living.
And in return for such largesse, I hope these lefties aren’t then broadcasting the continuous message, to all of Radio1’s impressionable younger listeners, that the state is wonderful, in all of its great and holy facets.
I should coco.
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Who Are We? The Samizdata people are a bunch of sinister and heavily armed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the values of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many crimes is a sense of humour and the intermittent use of British spelling.
We are also a varied group made up of social individualists, classical liberals, whigs, libertarians, extropians, futurists, ‘Porcupines’, Karl Popper fetishists, recovering neo-conservatives, crazed Ayn Rand worshipers, over-caffeinated Virginia Postrel devotees, witty Frédéric Bastiat wannabes, cypherpunks, minarchists, kritarchists and wild-eyed anarcho-capitalists from Britain, North America, Australia and Europe.
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