Digital Nation by Gary Dretzka

Yes, I'm as shocked as you are by the presumed break-up of Ben and Jen. But, if, as journalists, we succumb to the temptation to writhe on the floor in despair … well, then, the terrorists have won.

To take my mind off the pain, I went out and rented Tadpole and Sling Blade, just to recall how wonderful John Ritter was when he played against type. If I was a little bit more ambitious, I'd do something else I've always wanted to do, which is to scour the library of the Museum of Television and Radio to see if I could find episodes of ABC's The Johnny Cash Show. Between 1969-71, this smart music and variety show featured one of the most diverse guest lists in the history of the medium.

As near as I can tell, a compilation of episodes from that show is, as yet, unavailable. DVDs of other Cash and Highwaymen concerts, videos and movies are being rushed into stores this week, but the single greatest reminder of the singer-songwriter-actor's contribution to contemporary American culture - and his personal generosity -- might exist in those ABC shows themselves.

Not only was Cash country before country was cool, but he also courageously promoted the talents of dozens of important under-heard folk, country and rock artists whose chances of getting a break in Vietnam-era Nashville - or country-phobic L.A. and New York, for that matter - were slim and none. Those episodes need to be released on video, or re-broadcast on TV, as soon as possible. They're that essential.

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This morning in his column on salon.com, Charles Taylor bemoaned the fact that many worthwhile indie films are now finding their only venue for public viewing on premium-cable television. He was specifically discussing the film, Lift, which debuted on Showtime last year and was subsequently released on DVD in July.

He might just as well have been discussing Ripley's Game, an excellent movie whose fate I've been tracking for the past couple of years. Liliana Cavana's adaptation of the Patricia Highsmith novel recently had its American premiere on the IFC channel, but it isn't expected to arrive on DVD here until 2004. (In case anyone from the MPAA is reading, this means that your dreaded pirates have a better chance of profiting from its digitally enhanced television broadcast than the studio that bought it and decided not to release it here. Dumb da dumb dumb. In this instance, it can be argued, the scoundrels are providing a public service.)

In his column, which I had to sit through an eco-commercial to read (in lieu of paying for access), Taylor offered a couple of damning observations:

The first: "If you need any further evidence that independent film is failing its mission of giving a chance to movies that might otherwise get overlooked, consider the fate of Lift. This sharp, brainy, unclassifiable first film by the directing team of Demane Davis and Khari Streeter was praised when it premiered at the 2001 Sundance Film Festival, and was later featured in the New Directors, New Films program at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. But even with that buzz, Lift couldn't get a distributor. It ran on Showtime -- which deserves credit for providing a home to a slew of indie movies left high and dry -- and came out just on DVD, which is how I saw it.

The column concluded: "We're lucky to be in an era when a neglected picture like Lift can find an audience on home video. Not too long ago, most of us had no hope of seeing a movie that wasn't picked up for distribution. But we shouldn't feel too lucky. It's great that Lift is accessible to viewers, but it's crummy that a movie that doesn't hide its intelligence or diminish the complexity of its story -- and one that doesn't turn its black characters into cultural caricatures -- can't find a distributor. The fate of Lift should stick in our minds next time we hear someone talking about the wonderful things the 'indie revolution' has done for American movies. If a terrific movie that doesn't easily fit into preconceived categories can't get picked up, why the hell does indie cinema exist?"

And why, he further argues, could he only find it in the "segregated" Black Cinema section of his local Virgin Megastore?

When I started investigating the disappearance of Ripley's Game - a terrific thriller I was introduced to at a long-lead screening in Beverly Hills - the silence I heard in response to my questions was deafening. Here's how I described my efforts this weekend, in the broadcast-oriented column I write for www.tvbarn.com:

Nearly two years ago, I was invited by Fine Line Features to attend a long-lead-media screening of Ripley's Game, which had just debuted to some acclaim at the Venice Film Festival. I found the highly stylish thriller to be right up my alley, and couldn't wait to interview the filmmakers and stars involved in its production.

I'm still waiting.

Adapted from the same series of Patricia Highsmith novels that already had produced The Talented Mr. Ripley, The American Friend and Purple Noon, the noir-ish drama is set 20 years after Tom Ripley first tasted blood and decided to embark on a life of murderous crime. This time around, however, John Malkovich was enlisted to play the supremely erudite psycho-killer, who was now married and living on a beautiful Italian estate with his sexy young wife. It was the kind of role Malkovich was born to play.

Not long after the screening, I was told that the movie's release date was moved from fall to spring, and what I thought would be a slam-dunk Best Actor nomination for Malkovich would have to wait a year. Spring turned into summer, and 2002 gave way to 2003, but still no Ripley's Game.

A couple of weeks ago, I was stunned to learn - via a promo on IFC - that the film would receive its American premiere on the premium cable channel, absent any gala red-carpet launch or reviews from the nation's top critics.

As much as I enjoy watching IFC, it was difficult for me to understand what led to this straight-to-cable nightmare. Ripley's Game seemed to me to be exactly the kind of stimulating and intelligent motion picture that's now become an endangered species in Hollywood. True, not all of the European and Australian critics who had seen the film in its theatrical release overseas had come away from the experience as excited as I had been. But, they all seemed to agree on its stellar production values and Malkovich's performance.

That a movie as sumptuous as Ripley's Game - which was set in northern Italy and Berlin - could be produced for under $20 million made it only that much more noteworthy. Sadly, much of the care and planning that went into the set design, costumes and location scouting would be lost on the small screen.

That's not a knock on IFC. Channel executives there deserve beaucoup kudos, if only for agreeing to pick it up and promoting it as much as they did.

Even so, the arrival of Ripley's Game flew under the radar of most critics and viewers. Typically, a movie with its pedigree would already have enjoyed at least a perfunctory theatrical and video release, and it would have gotten reviewed. By debuting on cable/satellite, the movie even escaped the attention of TV critics, who probably assumed it was yet another example of straight-to-video dross, and, thus, beneath their contempt.

But, remarkably, the distributors of Ripley's Game had yet to exploit the straight-to-video and other ancillary markets. And, unlike Adrian Lyne's Lolita, this movie wasn't going to be given its sneak preview on premium cable, then quickly be introduced into the theatrical and video marketplace. Moreover, because the movie was released overseas before airing on cable here, Malkovich wouldn't be eligible for an Emmy nomination, either.

Purely out of curiosity, I decided to call the publicity departments of Fine Line and IFC to determine how the fate of Ripley's Game was decided. I explained that I was a columnist for two niche websites (the other being www.moviecitynews.com) and would like to clue readers in to the happy news of the movie's unexpected availability on the tube.

In most cases when good news is involved, entertainment-industry executives tend to stumble over themselves taking credit for it. After making contact with nearly a half-dozen publicists, though - all of whom promised to get back to me, but didn't -- I decided to ask and answer this rhetorical question myself.

"Based on Fine Line/New Line/AOL/Warners' apparent abandonment of this well-above-average, adult-oriented, moderately budgeted drama, how can Hollywood defend itself against charges it has cynically abdicated its responsibility to address the entertainment demands of all audiences, not merely teenagers and young adults?"

The best and only explanation I could find involved some educated speculation in Jeffrey Wells' Hollywood Elsewhere column at www.moviepoopshoot.com, which basically boiled the situation down to Hollywood politics-as-unusual.

I suppose it didn't help the film's chances any when giant AOL Time Warner decided last year to shed some extra baggage, in the form of fat at the boutique companies it accumulated in its many mergers. As near as I can figure, Fine Line remains the specialized-distribution arm of New Line Cinema, itself a precocious shirttail relative of Warner Bros. (Two years ago, the tail began wagging the dog when NL's Lord of the Rings out-performed WB's Harry Potter.). In fact, Fine Line recently announced a theatrical distribution agreement with yet another distant cousin, HBO Films.

Confused? I was. In fact, I thought that the reason Ripley's Game had yet to see the light of day was because New York-based Fine Line had completely disbanded, and the film still was being shopped around. Fine Line, though, recently put out the excellent American Splendor, and is about to release Gus Van Sant's Elephant.

After waiting three days for someone from IFC, Fine Line or the producers of Ripley's Game to return my calls, I gave up and settled on the conclusion that no one wanted to discuss the issue because it defined the acronym, SNAFU (situation normal: all f***** up), as it applies to the American entertainment industry. Apparently, no one cared to explain how a very good movie -- with a highly recognizable actor's name above the title - could be banished to the netherworld of cable TV, when utter trash, like Gigli' and Pluto Nash - as well as two mediocre Project Green Light winners -- not only was approved and made, but also distributed, publicized and given a video incarnation.

The logic of Hollywood is so twisted and Byzantine -- even in the best of times - that efforts to explain its intricacies conspire to make Ivy League MBAs sound like blithering idiots and pathological liars. So, in some absurd way, it makes sense that no one would care to comment for publication.

The thing you, the public, ought to know is that no one in a leadership position of authority inside the studios, networks and major newspaper chains thinks you or any reporter have a right to stick your nose into their business. Even if you own shares in a conglomerate, you're not entitled to know how decisions are made on what consumers see and hear.

Full disclosure is for suckers. The only things journalists and audiences can expect in large doses from the studios and networks are spin and hype. After all, if Entertainment Tonight, Extra, Access Hollywood, E! Entertainment don't bother to question the validity of the press releases and stage-managed interviews they "report" each day as news, why should anyone else raise a stink? Well, because those shows and networks serve at the whim of the studio, networks' and record labels' marketing departments, they're part of the problem.

But, I digress.

I'm sure that if someone had gotten back to me last week for comment, that person would have wanted me to convey to you his or her sincere conviction that Ripley's Game is a wonderful movie, and Fine Line had intended to release it on IFC all along. It just got lost in the shuffle. So, in lieu of "no comment," there you have it.

Enjoy the movie while it's still in rotation on IFC (or, set your TiVos for 5 and 10:30 p.m. PDT, on Sept. 20), or wait until it arrives on DVD sometime in 2004. In the meantime, you might consider renting the DVD of Wim Wenders The American Friend, with Dennis Hopper as Tom Ripley, or reading Highsmith's novel of the same title, or any of her terrific thrillers.

- September 16, 2003