It’s weird so much time is spent arguing about the theatrical release of movies – or, in other words, any particular movie’s infancy. Movies have a long life, and any given film’s theatrical window is just a fraction of how that film will be consumed for the rest of eternity. Okay, so here’s an example: let’s go back 20 years and pick Notting Hill. People love Notting Hill! Notting Hill was in theaters From May 28th, 1999 until October 7th, 1999 – so just over 130 days. Notting Hill has now existed for public consumption for just over 7350 days. So, this grand argument about a movie’s theatrical release accounts for 1.8 percent of Notting Hill’s entire lifespan. (And in 1999 movies stayed in theaters for a much longer duration than they do now.) For that other 98.2 percent of the time we’ve been watching Notting Hill, we’ve watched it either on many different incarnations of home video, or, most likely, when it just happens to be on cable.
So, I’d argue (in fact, I am arguing as you read this) that a movie’s post-theatrical life is more important than its, in comparison, very short and getting even shorter theatrical run window. Admittedly, a strong theatrical opening helps propel a movie to have a long post-theater life. But, on the other side, think how many movies became popular just because they played on a nonstop everlasting HBO loop. (Innerspace was not a huge hit, but if you watched HBO in 1988, you’ve seen Innerspace roughly 75 times. Or, for a more “important” movie, I’ve never seen The Godfather in a movie theater. Its legacy and constant standing in the zeitgeist was maintained on cable and home video releases.)
Anyway, my point here isn’t about theatrical releases. I’ll let someone else figure out where that’s all going. My main point is that a film’s theatrical release is such a minuscule part of the life of a movie. And, yes, the Netflixs of the world are slowly killing theatrical movies, but another thing it’s doing, that no one is really talking about, is it’s also kind of killing the rest of a movie’s life, too.
For instance, this past weekend I was running late to a social event. As I stepped out the door, a coat rack, with approximately 150 pieces of garments/umbrellas/bags collapsed onto the kitchen floor. By the time I fixed the broken coat rack leg, I was hot, sweaty, annoyed, and now so incredibly late that I just decided to watch TV instead. I wound up watching the 1989 Sylvester Stallone, Kurt Russell vehicle, Tango & Cash.
Now, I bring this all up because there’s no way I’d ever decide to just watch Tango & Cash, but now I, and many other people, have seen Tango & Cash in the last week because it happened to be on cable. Say what you want about Tango & Cash (and, honestly, there’s a lot to say; I could probably write 2000 words about Tango & Cash), but it’s a movie that’s had a pretty long run because of its propensity for popping up on cable. But now, as streaming services are distributing and owning their own movies, this era will be coming to an end because those movies won’t have significant cable runs or get special anniversary Blu-ray releases because they only exist on that specific platform.
(As an aside, people have been predicting the end of cable and satellite for years. But as more and more streaming services are announced, fracturing the content ever more dramatically, the demise of cable looks less and less likely and, crazily, like the less expensive option.)