Remember life before DVDs? It wasn't long ago that they were the "next big thing." Critics lauded DVDs as a revolutionary format that gave the viewer things that VHS never could _ deleted scenes, commentary tracks, storyboard materials, cast interviews, and the best picture and sound quality around.
And the critics were wrong. In the scope of movie history, the "revolutionary" features of DVDs mean next to nothing.
People used to only see movies in actual theaters. Even when televisions brought a new form of entertainment into the home, theaters still held a monopoly on actual films, be they serious dramas, low-budget horror flicks, or serial adventures. Movie theaters were like actual theaters _ they offered you the chance to see something once that you might never get to see again.
There was no magic behind the technology, of course. The advent of home movies demystified the process of recording and projecting films, but movies still remained locked in the theaters. Watching clips from your Florida vacation of your fat, shirtless uncle didn't compare to going to the movies.
But everything changed in 1975 when Sony's Betamax video recorder hit the market. For something that we take for granted every day, the introduction of the VCR was an entertainment revolution akin to recorded music. What was once a public form of entertainment that would change from month to month became something tangible that people could keep and love and watch again and again... and no amount of chapter-selection menus and foreign subtitles can have the impact on the medium that home recording did.
The two uses of the VCR _ the potential for both recording programs off television and watching feature films at home _ have equal power and importance. Putting the tapes themselves into consumer hands gave people control over what they watched and when they would watch it; letting them make their own tapes blurred the line between cinema and television, a blurring that continues today with the notable success of "cinematic" television features. After all, what is The Sopranos if not a refined, home-viewed version of the serials that used to run in movie theaters everywhere?
Aside from the conveniences, however, consider the elemental changes that home video has made to the experience of movies. Even as home theater systems now surpass the sound and picture quality of public screens, the change in setting and etiquette has made movies a far different commodity. There's no air of reverence surrounding films anymore. The performance mystique is all but gone.
Think about it. When you see a movie in a theater, you can't adjust the volume to your liking. You can't pause it to go to the bathroom. You can't stop the movie, go to bed, and watch the rest in the morning. You can't answer the phone, knit, balance your checkbook, drink a beer, or take off your shoes. Putting movies in your living room instead of a theater makes them an on-demand commodity rather than something more unique.
Yes, these things seem ridiculously simple and minor to us now; we've been watching movies on cable, network TV, and VCRs all our lives. But try to imagine how differently you might feel about your favorite movies if you could only see them in theaters. Love The Shawshank Redemption? Hope you got your fill of it in 1994, because you're not likely to get to see it again. No more rediscovering the classics, no more snuggling on the couch to a romantic comedy, no more watching Star Wars for the 35th time. Unless the only movie you want to see is The Rocky Horror Picture Show, you're not going to find any films that stay in theaters indefinitely.
Or would you? If we couldn't watch movies at home, maybe there'd be more film festivals, letting friends finally catch each other up on their favorites, letting adults relive childhood classics, letting the obsessed get their Indiana Jones fix.
Or maybe movies wouldn't have the cultural importance that they do today. Without the luxury of repeat viewing, few people would develop the cult fervor that many films generate today. Rather than being a permanent piece of art, people would see movies and television as transitory performances, just like theater. Sure, you could reminisce about how great Kenneth Branagh was in Dead Again, but you couldn't go back and watch it again. Movie actors would have the status of stage actors again. No more banking on your old performances to keep you afloat _ movie stars would have to put out or get out, so to speak.
Video rental chains are so ubiquitous that we think nothing of ignoring a film's theatrical release and waiting for the home version. Income from video sales can mean as much as a movie's box office grosses. Moviemakers have reconciled themselves to the fact that marketing a film doesn't just mean getting people into the theaters; it means giving people a reason to buy the tape or disc six months later, too. And both good and bad, these changes are here to stay.
So while DVDs are marginally more convenient than VHS tapes and give higher-quality performances, don't buy into the idea that they represent a revolution of any kind. They're a great evolutionary step in home theater, but the changes wrought by DVDs mean nothing next to those brought by the pause button.
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