Category: Film

New Study: Impact of Pre-Release Piracy

People like to quibble about the harm done to the motion picture industry by online piracy. They split hairs over things like whether or not each pirated view represents a lost sale or chime in with arguments that piracy is a form of promotion or a natural market reaction to outdated practices.  If a lot of the arguments for piracy sound like rationalizations, it’s because they are.  And when you hear rationalizations you’re hearing the voices of people who know that what they’re doing is wrong.  But even if we were to take any of the pro-piracy rationalizations as serious analysis, they fall completely apart the moment we’re talking about one of the more obnoxious practices in the whole paradigm — pre-release piracy.

It’s happened a lot, but most recently, The Expendables 3 was leaked online three weeks before it was scheduled for theatrical release.  There’s no other way to put it:  pre-release piracy is a dick move.  It says to everyone who worked on the film, most of them regular folks with regular jobs, that you’re actually eager to see the film but that your own narcissistic desire to be ahead of some imaginary curve is more important than all the investment of money and labor that made the film in the first place.  More than any other form of piracy, pre-release piracy is a huge middle-finger to the grips, electrics, camera department, wardrobe, props, etc. that their jobs mean nothing compared to your need to see a mediocre-quality version of the film on a small screen before anyone else sees it in the theater where it was designed to be released.  Okay that’s my opinion, but what about the impact?

A new study by researchers at The Technology Policy Institute at Carnegie Mellon University is the first to examine the effect of pre-release piracy on revenue. Their conclusions state that, on average, predicted box-office revenues can be reduced by 19% by pre-release piracy compared to post-release piracy.  Theatrical release is the one window when there are no other legal means of viewing a film, and market changes caused by digital technology advances have closed that window considerably.  DVDs go on sale much sooner than they used to after a theatrical release, and some films are released in theaters and through VOD channels simultaneously.  Audiences for big, action films like the Expendables franchise tend to want to see these movies with friends, in theaters, and on big screens.  Profitable opening weekends are a critical slice in the pie-chart of returns investors are seeking when they fund these rather expensive films.

People reading this will, no doubt, have various reactions, including at least a few sentiments directed against big, Hollywood action movies; but that is a flawed lens through which to view the problem.  The Expendables 3 isn’t necessarily my kind of fare per se, but that is entirely beside the point.  What matters in the macro view is whether or not the effect of piracy poisons the ground where legitimate business should otherwise thrive.  When that happens, it’s detrimental to the entire, economic ecosystem in the industry.  Anyone who thinks they can cherry-pick-pirate what they consider the “corporate” fare out of existence and protect whatever their idea of a “better” film might be, is sorely mistaken.

In the big-movie market, if investors are scared off major motion picture investment because pre-release piracy threatens the most critical phase of first sales, that means fewer films get made overall and that the only big films that do get made employ financial models to offset expected losses.  In other words, if it can’t be in a Happy Meal, it won’t be on the screen.  But the smaller movie market has similar challenges with regard to windows of opportunity to recoup investments, and that translates into the probability of making the next film.  If those windows are artificially closed by piracy that preempts the real market from voting with its pocketbook, this will not result in a healthier industry by whatever measure, economic or cultural, you prefer to use.

With easy access comes easy hypocrisy.

I can’t help but be aware of a disturbing harmonic buzz in my head when I read two stories on the same day that point to a particular digital age dichotomy. Remember Sarah Jones? You might have helped her story go viral. Sarah was a camera assistant, who was killed when she was struck by a train during filming of the Gregg Allman biopic Midnight Rider. I read today that the producers of that now-cancelled project have surrendered themselves to Georgia State authorities to face charges of involuntary manslaughter stemming from the February 20 disaster. But also today, I read that the app Popcorn Time, which makes movie piracy easy for everyone with its Netflix-like interface, is being “improved” for the Android platform. The hypocrisy underlying the concurrence of these stories is typical of our times. The same technology that enables people to know about Sarah, to share her story, even to join the campaign pledging better on-set safety, also allows some of the very same individuals to flick a thumb and start pirating motion pictures that are made by tens of thousands of people just like Sarah.

Here’s a clue:  if you enjoy motion pictures and actually care at all about the well being of the individuals who do the heavy lifting to make those films happen, don’t pirate. It’s a no-brainer. In an effort to justify this behavior, you can quibble all you like about where you think (because you actually don’t know) the money goes; but in general, the money (a.k.a. the project investment) pays for worker wages, union support, insurances, location fees, and, yes, safety procedures and personnel. Unfortunately, accidents and negligence still happens; and it is always the responsibility of managers and fellow crew members to keep checks on our ingrained culture that wants to get the shot at almost any cost. Surely, firsthand accounts of the Midnight Rider production sound like the kind of amateurish crap that goes on all the time and thankfully only rarely results in serious injury or death. So, while I’d certainly stop short of saying piracy kills filmmakers, I will not hesitate to say that, in general, economic stability is better for maintaining worker safety in every industry. And we have yet to fully see the effects of piracy on this industry.

We have a bad habit of talking about piracy with regard to finished and popular filmed entertainment. Partly, this is because it suits piracy’s supporters to say things like “XYZ tentpole made a gazillion dollars, so piracy does no harm and probably even helps.” But for every Avengers and Game of Thrones out there, there are hundreds or thousands of small and medium budget pictures being made, many of which are the films most treasured by serious fans. 

Digital-age utopians love to extoll the virtues of independent, guerrilla filmmaking; and when they do, it’s a little like listening to middle-class white kids gripe about the struggle of some oppressed minority. It’s both true and utter bullshit at the same time, especially if the self-appointed proponent of indie filmmaking is also pro-piracy. The reality is none of these people has a clue about the very specific set of skills Sarah Jones had developed and was developing in her role as an AC. Those skills don’t come cheap, and neither should they. But among the indisputable ill effects of piracy is that it exerts economic pressure on the industry as a whole, and it will always be the small to midsize, indie producers who will present the earliest symptoms of the diseases caused by this pressure. These symptoms may include lower standard wages for skilled workers and/or shortcuts around various production practices that affect general working conditions, including safety. 

Yes, Sarah’s untimely and entirely avoidable death should be a wake-up call to production teams everywhere to remind themselves that no film is worth unreasonable risks to a crew member’s safety. But as this tragic story also draws attention to the many otherwise invisible hands behind the scenes, perhaps consumers ought to consider their responsibility to support a sustainable industry rather than casually line the pockets of poachers who do absolutely nothing.

Tarantino Sues Gawker. Hellz Yeah!

I am dying to hear the rationale for this one.  According to several stories this morning, Quentin Tarantino is suing Gawker for leaking and promoting access to the full screenplay for a feature in late-stage development called The Hateful Eight.  According to the LA Times, the director says he’s depressed over the leak and is shelving the production, but meanwhile, he’s suing Gawker for copyright infringement.  The first report I read stated that a rumor was circulating that the whole kerfuffle is a publicity stunt by Tarantino, but I doubt it; and I certainly hope not.  Tarantino doesn’t need a publicity stunt.  His films, like them or not, are provocative enough to be their own publicity stunts.

There are times when copyright cases contain shades of gray, but this isn’t one of them.   What possible social justification can anyone offer for leaking the screenplay of a motion picture in development? If you think you have an answer to that, find someone to administer a dope slap because your ego is eating the rest of your psyche.  Assuming there’s nothing more to this story, what Gawker is doing is an outright hijacking of a process that represents many hours and many dollars worth of stranded investment. What journalist does that absent any actual news that serves the public?  Have we become so debauched that we think we have a right to read an author’s work mid-process, let alone a component of a multi-million-dollar product in development? Tarantino should not only sue Gawker, but the responsible parties should have to clean his house without pay for six months.

It is apt that this story breaks this morning, when the House Judiciary Committee readies to hold another round of hearings on copyright review.  Today will be focused on the subject of fair use, and we will undoubtedly hear testimony from parties arguing to expand fair use, despite the fact that the U.S. already has the most liberal application of the principle among countries who uphold copyright.  Regardless, while there may be nuance to consider in this regard, this Tarantino case serves as a timely example of the fact that certain website owners would strain the legal foundation of fair use until the only part left is the use. This is what happens when people grow accustomed to making money for doing nothing: they become self-righteous about exploiting people who actually work for a living.

I don’t love every film Quentin Tarantino produces, but his voice certainly makes its presence known in the chorus of American cinema; and the world would be duller without him.  Gawker?  Really?  It could disappear tomorrow, and what?  Where would we ever find another team of lazy-ass gossip-mongers?  Check under the nearest rock.