Television Goes to the Movies

Jonathan Gray, Derek Johnson

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781351105958
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Medien & darstellende Kunst
• Subtopic: Animation

Television and film have always been connected, but recent years have seen them overlapping, collaborating, and moving towards each other in ever more ways. Set amidst this moment of unprecedented synergy, this book examines how television and film culture interact in the 21st century.

Both media appear side by side in many platforms or venues, stories and storytellers cross between them, they regularly have common owners, and they discuss each other constantly. Jonathan Gray and Derek Johnson examine what happens at these points of interaction, studying the imaginary borderlands between each medium, the boundary maintenance that quickly envelops much discussion of interaction, and ultimately what we allow or require television and film to be. Offering separate chapters on television exhibition at movie theaters, cinematic representations of television, television-to-film and film-to-television adaptations, and television producers crossing over to film, the book explores how each zone of interaction invokes fervid debate of the roles that producers, audiences, and critics want and need each medium to play. From Game of Thrones to The TV Set, Bewitched to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, hundreds of TV shows and films are discussed.

Television Goes to the Movies will be of interest to students and scholars of television studies, film studies, media studies, popular culture, adaptation studies, production studies, and media industries.

1
Television Programs Go to the Movies

Crossing Boundaries in Exhibition Spaces

One of the most fundamental distinctions levied between television and cinema centers around the place in which we experience each medium. To many, our sense of what these media are depends significantly upon the technological means of content delivery and the site to which that content is being delivered. The cinema, in particular, has often been defined with a rather singular focus on the site of theatrical exhibition with its projected images and sounds. Even as mechanical projection of film canisters that physically travel the globe has given way to digital projection of films sent from distributors’ servers, the theater persists as the cinematic sin qua non. Of course, the content we recognize as film circulates beyond those spaces, too, moving through a number of release windows across television, home video, and online streaming. And yet theatrical exhibition enjoys a pride of place in this sequence, as the primary and initializing moment of that distribution chain. No example makes this clearer than the Oscars, the awards granted by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in recognition of outstanding achievement in the medium. To win this ultimate validation of cinematic achievement, one’s work must be intended for theatrical exhibition. By contrast to this insistence on public exhibition, television has been significantly understood by reference to the domestic and individualized settings of its private consumption. Television devices have certainly changed—from set-top boxes that receive signals from antenna or cable to laptops and phones that stream content from the internet—but even when taken out of the space of the family room, the “mobile privatization” of television (Williams 2003/1974) creates a sense of viewing while being at home in a comfortable space to which viewers are individually attached (Maly-Bowie 2019). Where we watch seems to matter a great deal to a great many, and our sense of what we watch is often shaped by that sense of where we are.

However, rather than reinforce this perception of fundamental differences, this chapter seeks to interrogate it, denaturalizing the discourses that suggest that cinema and television have essential characters defined by their context of exhibition. To do so, it explores some of the instances in which television has been exhibited as cinema as well as, by contrast, cases in which cinema has been brought into the realm of the television. Through that effort, it will become clear that neither television nor film can be understood in isolation from one another by a distinction based in location: instead, these media frequently overlap in their exhibition and consumption. Just as movies can come home on television, home video, or Netflix, television can literally go to the movies as programs are slated for theatrical exhibition as part of industry experiments in making these media work together. On the one hand, then, the presence of television in the spaces of theatrical exhibition reveals that place-centric definitions of media essence are tenuously constructed and problematic in that construction. On the other hand, the persistence of these definitions as part of the production of value and prestige in each medium demonstrates the continued power of these ideas as well as the need for them to be confronted and better understood in media theory. So when television programs go to the movies, we have an opportunity to reflect on the way in which media industries and media cultures push against the very boundaries often deployed to define and limit them.

In an age of media convergence (Jenkins 2006) in which the boundaries between media are regularly rendered blurry, there are no shortages of examples in which “film” content is distributed and viewed via television, and in which “television” content manifests in cinematic forms. The history of film distribution in the second half of the 20th century and beyond has turned centrally on its relationship to television industries, as studios and networks weighed their competing and collaborative interests (Hilmes 1990), content came to be valued for its cross-promotional functions (Anderson 1994; Wasko 2001), distribution strategies increasingly accounted for ancillary markets (Balio 1990), and film libraries could be resold across media lines (Hoyt 2015; Kompare 2005). Somewhat less prominent, however, has been attention to the ways in which the history of television has been shaped by its ability to serve as cinema. Perhaps most notably, Michael Newman and Elana Levine (2011) interrogate the way in which the increasing legitimation of television in the 21st century has depended in significant part on its identification as a “cinematic” medium that eschews the look, feel, and taste cultures of so much broadcast history. Newman and Levine reveal television as a medium constructed in significant part by reference to its overlap with the cinema—the partial nature of which prompts important political questions about what cultures, which viewers, and whose tastes are and are not perceived to have value in the hierarchies into which media like film and television can be placed. Building on this interrogation of the politics of television’s convergence with film, this chapter moves beyond the question of how television is described as cinematic to explore how television is exhibited as cinema. In doing so, it reveals productive linkages between film historians’ interest in the contexts of distribution and exhibition with the perspectives of television scholars focused on the meanings, values, and assumptions that undergird the convergence of media.

To these ends, the chapter first unpacks recent industry strategies in which television programming has been reallocated and transformed for exhibition in theatrical venues. By developing a deeper understanding of the industrial strategies behind the theatrical exhibition of cult hits like Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987–1994) or Game of Thrones (2010–2019), we can understand what television is deemed worthy and viable of going to the movies, and by extension, what television remains decidedly more difficult to bring to the cinema. This analysis can reveal how and why television industries look to the cinema as an exhibition partner, as well as why cinema operators would look to television to diversify their offerings to patrons.

Second, this chapter will consider the ways in which television’s capacity to go to the movies is imagined within the frameworks of national film cultures, and how investment in the difference between cinema and television in one local context need not extend to another. Some television series that have not appeared on the cinema screen in the US context, for example, have transformed into cinematic fare far more freely when traded on the international marketplace. By looking at the ways in which US television programs find abroad the theatrical exhibition that is denied them in their domestic market, the chapter reveals that the lines between cinema and television are not essential characteristics of the medium, but instead culturally specific constructions. In fact, when failed US television program Battlestar Galactica (1978–1980) found exhibition as cinema throughout the globe, these industry practices proved quite revealing: first, they showed that definitions of the cinema based in theatrical exhibition may not be universal throughout the globe; second, they demonstrated that hierarchies of value between media are not essential and vary with values, tastes, and assumptions articulated to different populations.

Finally, while the history of film exhibited on television is far too complex to attend to in any real depth, this chapter will look to an extreme example of film’s reliance on television exhibition as a limit case. In the wake of the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic, industrial models that treat the public space of theatrical exhibition as a cornerstone were shaken to the core. While the move to theatrical exhibition used to be a calculus of the value accrued to television programming, during the pandemic content produced for the cinema migrated to Netflix, video-on-demand, and other digital television platforms to mitigate the lost value of theatrical release. Strategies that turned on theatrical release were rethought, or at the very least suspended indefinitely, and in that context television emerged as a platform in which the potential failure of film projects might be recalculated. Moreover, when going to the movies lost its appeal, the crisis the pandemic created for the film industry invites us to reconsider television’s potential to be exhibited theatrically, too. In short, this disruption of the distributional hierarchies and cultures of exhibition in film and television reveals the contingent and fragile nature of any essential boundaries between media—even as media institutions quickly seek to repair those walls. Ultimately, what all these case studies reveal is the way in which media industries construct the boundaries in which they operate through the very strategies and practices with which they operate. Yet that process also undoes these boundaries, both through concerted efforts to welcome television into the spaces of film exhibition, and in crises of disruption that present television as a potential alternative to film exhibition.

Theatrical Event Television

In the contemporary television industries, it is rare but not at all unheard of for television programming to be exhibited in the theatrical spaces of cinematic exhibition. Many exhibitors, for example, have made their theater screens available for viewing live television sporting events. Film festivals, too, have served as sites of exhibition for television programming. Many television mini-series and specials from around the world often end up showing at international exhibitions, as has, for instance, Lars Von Trier’s mini-series Kingdom (1994–1997). The theatrical exhibition of television programming inevitably raises a question of timing: only in rare cases like sports and other live programming do theatrical screenings unfold simultaneously with television presentation. On some occasions, theatrical exhibition has preceded the debut of programming in broadcast, cable, or online channels of distribution as part of promotional events meant to create publicity and prestige for forthcoming television series. At other times, these exhibition practices have sought to create new opportunities for unique viewing experiences that only come after release in these more traditional television venues. The HBO series Game of Thrones offers instructive examples of both cases, having been exhibited theatrically at times both before and after its television debut.

On the one hand, HBO used a very limited form of theatrical exhibition to build up hype for the premiere of new seasons, including the eighth and final season in 2019. These “red carpet” events served as celebrations for professionals working in the television industry, rather than public screenings for general audiences. Held at Radio City Music Hall in New York City, the April 3 premiere event served as a gala under which to gather the cast of the series and parade them before onlookers in the entertainment, celebrity, and fashion presses. Publications like Bazaar and Elle could then feature photo albums of images from the event, providing a glimpse into how stars like Emilia Clarke, Sophie Turner, and Maisie Williams were attired (Bowenbank 2019; Dibdin 2019). Such stories focused exclusively on the on-screen talent behind the series, featuring 30-some images each of cast members from across all eight seasons who had been invited to the event. From this perspective, this one-night showing of the Season Eight premiere existed as an excuse to hold step-and-repeat photo shoots on the red carpet in order to maximize the visibility of the series in the world of celebrity fashion.

A parallel report in Insider, however, suggests that the function of this theatrical premiere went beyond capturing the fashion choices of on-screen stars: the red carpet was only the first stage in this carefully curated event. Insider’s Kim Renfro (2019) documents an hours-long event that continued into the screening room in which HBO programming president Casey Bloys, showrunners David Benioff and DB Weiss, and author George RR Martin addressed their colleagues and collaborators, “paying tribute to the hard work and faith of the entire HBO and ‘Game of Thrones’ family.” Renfro further relays that following the speech, the curtain on stage parted to reveal the fully assembled cast of former and present actors that had attended the event that night—implicitly revealing that despite the fashion press’ focus on on-screen talent, the audience for this screening consisted of a much wider population of industry professionals and their guests. Insider’s photo captions estimate an audience of 6,000 in attendance, and while Renfro refuses to offer spoilers, she nevertheless reports on the screening as one that elicited both cheers and moments that were “deadly silent, focused on the unfolding spectacle.” In this account, the experience of having seen the episode, even for an audience largely of television professionals, was no mere formality, but a visceral, powerful, and potentially unruly form of engagement with television content. Having debuted the Season Eight premiere in this theatrical setting almost two weeks ahead of its forthcoming premiere on April 14, HBO now sought to manage the power of the audience to share their response. HBO distributed to this audience buttons with a photo of Game of Thrones spymaster Lord Varys that read “keep the secrets,” while Sophie Turner and Maisie Williams announced that if spoilers did spill from this event, master assassin Arya Stark would step from the screen to “f------ kill” the assembled crowd (Renfro 2019). Of course, the event did not end here, and the audience (or at least some part of it) gathered at the Ziegfeld Ballroom for an after-party featuring a replica Iron Throne, “Cold Fashioned” cocktails, and more opportunities for celebrity watching.

Taken as a whole, then, such theatrical premieres for television content represent a form of entertainment industry event that both creates publicity valued by the hype machine of promotional departments and enables a form of community building and celebration within the television business itself. Theatrical exhibition serves in these multiple ways to create new value for television programs. In some ways, these opportunities are entirely unremarkable if we compare the hoopla around Game of Thrones’ eighth season to the red-carpet events held regularly for every major Hollywood film release. Part of the mythology of the US film industry centers on the glamour of movie premieres held at venues like Grauman’s Chinese Theater on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. From the theatrical screening itself to the after parties, these television-focused events are hardly any different from their cinema counterparts—with the exception, of course, that no theatrical run is scheduled to follow such a premiere, and the wider public release of the content will be via broadcast, cable, or streaming services. Thus, not only exceptional programs like Game of Thrones have enjoyed theatrical premieres; in 2019–2020 alone, similar events surrounded the world premiere screenings for the first season of Star Trek: Picard (2020–), the third season of Westworld (2016–), the second season of Big Little Lies (2017–), the second season of Killing Eve (2018–), the first season of The Mandalorian (2019–), the limited HBO series Watchmen (2019), and many more.

This is not to suggest, however, that all television content has access to this kind of value creation via theatrical performance. It is no coincidence that HBO series like Game of Thrones, Big Little Lies, Watchmen, and more all debut through this promotional and celebratory detour to the film theater. HBO has long traded in the value of television that is perceived to be more “cinematic” than its competitors in the broadcast and cable arenas (McCabe and Akass 2008; Newman and Levine 2011; Santo 2008). Streaming services like Netflix challenged HBO by laying their own claims to the quality distinctions of the cinema (Tryon 2015), and that pattern has continued as services like Amazon Prime Video, Hulu, and more join the fray. These claims to quality all rely on distinguishing select services and programs from the larger pool offered by the television industries. Thus, while association with film brings added value to television, this articulation works only if it is a limited set of television programs that enjoy that cinematic status. It is not surprising, then, that it is the high production value, scripted television projects produced for premium services, where budgets rival those in the film industry and claims to cinematic quality pervade, that more often make their world debuts in theatrical settings replete with red-carpet treatment and celebrity news coverage. In fact, that attention helps to render television actors more clearly as “stars,” which—as discussed in the next chapter—can announce and establish cinematic status contra television. By contrast, few, if any, reality series screen content theatrically; even juggernauts like The Bachelor (2002–) franchise that center on premiere events do so in ways that embrace the liveness of television in contrast to the idea of a film screening. While celebrities gather in a theater to screen the final, “in the can” cut of Game of Thrones, The Bachelor gathers audiences in a studio setting to participate in season-ending live reveals. Even Survivor (2000–), which stages its finales in large theatrical spaces, stops short of presenting the reality TV experience as a cinematic one. Instead of emphasizing its potential as an exhibition space for filmed footage, the theatrical space is used to assemble the cast, their family members, and a cheering crowd to watch the live drama that unfolds on a set onstage. The reality TV auditorium is more a stage for theater than watching filmed entertainment. So while the theatrical debut is increasingly a significant promotional event and professional ritual in the television industries, it has been unevenly applied within the medium, focused on spaces in which overtures to cinematic style, stardom, and prestige are already in play.

Beyond these invite-only, staged red-carpet events, the television industries have also looked to theatrical exhibition as a way of directly engaging audiences in new forms of public participation and new kinds of media transactions. Here, too, Game of Thrones provides a useful example. In 2015, select movie theaters throughout the United States, including some operating under the AMC chain, offered cinemagoers a “Game of Thrones IMAX Experience”—a very limited engagement screening that made two fourth season episodes available for theatrical exhibition. Selected were the last two episodes of the season, starting with episode nine, “The Watchers on the Wall,” a spectacle-driven episode that depicts one uninterrupted battle as Jon Snow and the Night’s Watch protect Castle Black from invading Wildlings. Following this was “The Children,” a season finale that changes focus to characters like Bran, Tyrion, and Daenerys in other locations in the fictional world. These episodes had already aired on HBO seven months prior in June 2014; yet for one night only on January 30, IMAX patrons could see them on the big screen. The selection of these episodes is not surprising; the series had developed a reputation for memorable and spectacular penultimate episodes each season, and “Watchers on The Wall” represented a significan...