A handful of films go beyond just entertainment. Given enough time, they become part our our culture – something for the world to treasure, works everyone should see at least once in their lifetime. They usually possess one or more exceptional qualities, which allows them to rise above the rest in such spectacular fashion. And of course, it’s not just films, this extends to music, novels, biographies, and more.
Naturally, the umpteenth installment of the Fast and Furious franchise would not fit into this discussion. Just the other day, I stumbled upon a rapper’s response on Twitter to the film’s critics. “Why do we keep making those movies?” he said. “If you invest two hundred million and make a billion, who’s going to tell you to stop? When each one earns you eight hundred million?”
Hey, you don’t have to teach verbal jiu-jitsu to a rapper… and he has a point for sure. Yet, doesn’t this all ring a bit hollow? Consider this: essentially, he’s saying, “We’re making money with our franchise, and that’s all that matters.”
However, it seems to me he didn’t quite get the underlying question his critics were asking, one which remained unspoken because of politeness. Allow me to state the question more clearly. It would sound like this: “Given all of your money, why not make something better? Why keep making mediocre stuff? Why not produce a film you can genuinely be proud of? Something with lasting impact?
Now, we may already know the answer to that hypothetical question. “Because we don’t have to. We’re making all the money we need. Why exert ourselves more than necessary?”
I can think of at least eight hundred million reasons why. Here’s one: this type of shortsighted thinking practically always ends up biting you in the rear end sooner or later. Remember the fiasco surrounding Star Wars Episode 8? A well-crafted script remained an afterthought, just as long as production moved quickly. And they got their film to the public, making plenty of money, but the damage inflicted on the brand was considerable. The problem is, that damage is invisible at first. But it does show itself, in moviegoers not recommending the film to friends and family, future installments not quite earning the profits it should’ve and fans disengaging from the franchise altogether.
Now, it appears that the tenth Fast and Furious film will indeed be the final one. Nevertheless, one cannot help but wonder what this series could have been worth, if only it had gone for excellence, instead of mediocrity. Look at what happens when you take care of a franchise, maintaining the type of devoted fan base that lasts for decades and decades, as is the case with Bond or Mission Impossible. You can’t even explain the rewards in monetary terms alone, because you can’t buy what the Bond franchise has built up over the years.
And there’s even a more important reason to go for excellence, instead of mediocrity. Like it or not, we only have a limited time on this planet, so it’s worth pondering what we’d wish to to leave behind after our journey has come to an end. Because as far as I know, we can’t carry our money onto our next destination.
By the by, I am currently reading The Odyssey by Homer, the Penguin Classics edition. It’s been written over two millennia ago, with the stories themselves having been passed on verbally even longer ago, possibly by several hundred years. As I’m reading, I find I haven’t been bored for a single moment. The story still works, even after all of these years. Can you imagine, how a story can survive through the rise and fall of entire civilizations? Discussing this work in terms of financial gain would be devoid of all meaning, as its original creator has long since passed. Isn’t this the complete opposite, of what we see around us today? Both products and films have become disposable objects, we’re surrounded by self-help dross and even our architecture is comprised of the same modernistic, concrete cubes.
So, as a creative soul, you face a choice. Do you leave behind a pile of junk? Or do you want to give a piece of beauty to this world?
Sincerely yours,
Vincent J. Dancet