This article was first published in Cherwell on 11 November 2017.
The eﬀacement of the history of ﬁlm is played out on multiplex screens. At my local cinema, each ﬁlm is prefaced with a ten second countdown showing ﬁlm prints scrolling across the screen in an old-fashion manner before the ﬁlmic effect and grain literally melts away for a cold digital blue—a celebration of the erasure of our old ways for modern eﬃciency.
Knock oﬀ of IMAX’s vaunted introduction to ﬁlms though it is, there is actually something far more insidious churning under the surface. Aside from this shift being nothing at all to cheer—the death of ﬁlm is a subject debated to exhaustion—to even have the temerity to use ﬁlm to hype audiences up for a primarily digital spectacle is dishonest and rather frustrating.
This speaks to a wider issue with 21st Century ﬁlm, however: nostalgia, while useful to make audiences warm and fuzzy, is employed with breath-taking cynicism in order to sell cinema. We look back to a golden-age of spaghetti westerns and simple ﬁlm-reel ﬁlms not because they were better, but because they represent an ideal which we are striving to reproduce, only better, and with bigger special eﬀects.
It is not a ground-breaking argument to propose that the continuing proliferation of remakes have a harmful impact on cinema which will last far beyond the immediate swell of box oﬃce proﬁts. Rather, creativity is being hampered in favour of catering to long-gone tastes and calculated attempts to draw people who remember the originals into a darkened room to watch a VFX-laden rehash. Take for example The Magniﬁcent Seven. It was a great movie and a product of its time, so did it really need a remake with the current age’s most famous stars? It seems to be a formula right now.
These remakes—about which far too much has already been written, so it suﬃces here to be brief on the subject—fail to elicit positive audience or critical reaction precisely because of their very nature. They might be new, but they feel old. Indeed, it is only a matter of time before the public revolt—with their feet—against the fodder they are forced to see.