Summer's Killing Us

Today we finish the first week of July, and like many I find myself reflective on what the summer has brought so far.

Back around Christmas, I read an article in GQ bemoaning the death of the original blockbuster. It pointed out - quite rightly as it would seem - that experiences like we got last year with INCEPTION would be a rarity. We have entered an age where studios are afraid to launch event films unless they are propped up by a known quantity. The known quantity can be a toy (TRANSFORMERS 3), a previous hit (THE HANGOVER 2), or a popular piece of written material...like a comic book (GREEN LANTERN). These films are expensive to make, and even more expensive to market. Perhaps the down economy is to blame, but all of a sudden, Hollywood has become gunshy of sinking all that cash into something that could be the next LAST ACTION HERO-like turkey.

As such, I sit here this morning underwhelmed. On the one hand, sure this summer has brought a few glorious bits of sunshine to my movie-lovin' life. If enduring CARS 2 means i get to delight in MIDNIGHT IN PARIS, I'll happily make that trade. Hell, I'll even throw in a player to be named later. But as much delight as I've taken in ATTACK THE BLOCK or SUPER 8, I feel like I've been let down. Between the end credits of SUPER 8, and the opening chimes of HARRY POTTER (a blockbuster I'm certain to love), an entire month will pass.

That's four whole weeks where mainstream Hollywood gave moviegoers with my sort of taste the bird. "Sorry Hatter" the suits said "But we're not interested in giving your kind any big budget entertainment with brains...we're too busy going after those suckers ready to pony up for TRANSFORMERS again". (Sidebar: To everyone who paid for a Transformers ticket, thank you so much for encouraging such behaviour).

As it stands, the big-budget summer is all but over for me. After POTTER and CAP, there's nothing huge that has me anxiously waiting. This saddens me, that another summer has to go by with no one in Hollywood finding the huevos to try and make the next JAWS, the next DIE HARD, the next INDEPENDENCE DAY.

And while the lack of a blockbuster for yet another summer is reason to be a tad bummed, it is not reason to stay in and start tearing through one's Netflix queue. Instead, if you have the means, seek out some of the indie offerings. Some cities are already playing CONAN O'BRIEN CAN'T STOP. Others are playing THE TRIP. Both of those movies were film festival experiences for me, and thus were not given a full review, but if pressed I'd say they were both easily 3.5 Star movies.

As the weeks go on, you'll also find more awesome nonfiction in the way of SENNA and PROJECT NIM. Again - fantastic stories that are far superior to anything Kevin james will get into in his latest bit of dumbassery. Strange, isn't it? I'm soaking up sunshine as I walk around the city, playing the pop music more than the sad bastard tunes. When I go to the theatre, I find myself in the mood for hamburgers. But Hollywood's hamburgers look like they've been sitting under the heat lamp for two hours. They're actually forcing me to go look for a steakhouse.

No worries. A quick scan of the local listings tells me that CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS, WIN WIN, ARMADILLO, and IN A BETTER WORLD are all out there for the watching.

Sorry Hollywood - I was primed and ready to give you my money, but you just don't seem to want to take it from my hand.