Star Trek: Into Darkness, movies these days, and Richard Armitage [almost a conclusion]

Continued from here, discussing my reaction to Hobbit hype, drawing on this earlier post.

As I write this, my eyes keep straying to my browser tab, to see if Peter Jackson has updated his facebook. Honestly, I’ve never had it this bad for a real person, let alone for an actor.

III. me + the entertainment news + Richard Armitage

So, yeah, what was I thinking about Richard Armitage and “me + richard armitage” as I was driving home?

Even if Ian McKellen doesn’t want to call the Hobbit films a franchise, that’s what they are. McKellen was trying to say something, I think, about the quality and artistic and cultural meaning of the Tolkien project, the creation of which was not touched by the desire to sell a product, as opposed to what McKellen seems to think about most comic and superhero narratives. Laying aside, of course, the fact that Tolkien also sought to profit from his work, this distinction doesn’t hold up well given either the historical origins of significant pieces of what we call classical theater or that of comic and superhero stories (The Hobbit and the first superhero comic books come from roughly the same era), and while standing up for a difference between Tolkien and X-Men is an understandable decision for a classically-trained actor to make, doing so makes McKellen look a bit hypocritical and condescending to his audience(s). I am on record as not believing in that distinction, anyway.

The Hobbit project as soon as Jackson (or for that matter, anyone else who might have done so) put his hands on it definitely meets the definition of a media franchise, and that’s part of why marketers provide the hype — because the cost of of all of this has to be made up. The media machine has to be fed so that we are formed into emotional shareholders who will come across with the money to pay for the production and provide return on the investments of the paper shareholders once the product(s) hit the shelves and the screen. The main difference between The Hobbit and X-Men, I assume, lies mainly in the way that the rightsholders are likely to exploit the rights situations going forward. X-Men‘s been in publication since 1963 and written / drawn by a variety of different people who have contracted to Marvel; it has never been thought to represent or been legally limited to the artistic vision of one person. It can go on infinitely with new writers, new stories, new films, as long as it’s profitable and the corporation agrees, which one imagines that it is likely to do as long that lies in its financial interest. The Hobbit, in comparison, ends when the rights held by the current licensees of the rightsholders are exhausted. The rightsholders themselves have expressed regularly their belief that the Hobbit story belonged solely to J.R.R. Tolkien and begins and ends with Tolkien’s writings about Middle Earth, which ought not to be continued or expanded into further stories. Due to cost, there is little likelihood of a remake of these stories in our lifetimes, let alone a Hobbit 4 with new ones. This problem makes the substantial energy put into generating viewer investment in this franchise even more important. There’s no generating good buzz for the (foreseeable) future; these films are all there is. It’s only one reason that Richard Armitage was right when he said that he might be the only person ever to play this role on film.

[Right: John Porter with the terrorists, or: Richard Armitage gets himself written out of Strike Back 2.1. Source: RichardArmitageNet.com]

Laying aside my growing concerns over how much time and energy the Thorin Oakenshield role is taking Armitage, it still seems to me that (given what we know) a starring role in The Hobbit films was a better trajectory choice for him than Strike Back, which likely would have led to more television work. I honestly might prefer seeing Armitage more or more of Armitage (I really do miss being able to look forward to the regular installments of Spooks and Strike Back), but I had two reasons for that conclusion: first, his rare but regular statements that he wished to do more film work, and his stated apparent frustration with television scripts. Others, too, have speculated that the hassle of less than optimum scripts was a problem for him and that given his stage background, with its emphasis on writing character biographies and finished arcs, films would be better (or at least less frustrating jobs) simply because they were not open-ended.

As I continue to think about the quo vadis Armitage? question, however, what my reaction to ST:ID suggested to me comparatively about my reaction to the Hobbit films actually has me thinking more about the great art problem as it relates to Armitage. I want to clarify this just a little simply because I’ve been misunderstood before to be saying that all art is equal. That’s not my claim. It might be more accurate to say that art is good on its own terms. To convince, art needs to be both well executed in as many ways as possible, and to speak meaningfully to its audiences. To me, ST:ID failed on both these criteria — it lacked a script with heart — with a believably-motivated villain and the perspective of real moral or ethical issues that created consequences for its characters as Star Trek had had before. And, at a crucial point, that became even more crucial to me as, because of my associations with the material it cited, it failed miserably to speak to me. ST:ID was not a bad film per se, perhaps, I leave that to more knowledgeable minds than mine to decide — but it was inadequate as Star Trek. And I can’t really accept the argument that my students made to me last Friday that this film was “not for me,” that I was not in its audience. I was in its audience, by virtue of all the watching years ago. Just as I am now in the Hobbit audience — for better or for worse, by casting Richard Armitage the hype-makers were saying they were targeting my entertainment investment — and just as I now have a right to my opinion about it.

I felt like The Hobbit was a better example of its genre than Strike Back was of its — so while I didn’t think that Strike Back hurt Armitage’s career, necessarily, I didn’t think that the production added to it either; I do think that in many ways (not just increased exposure) The Hobbit has improved not just Armitage’s chances, but also his art. Similarly, in comparison to ST:ID, The Hobbit is really attractive to me. This is, in part, because the book is considered so (relatively) strong as an execution of genre and narrative. (This is a variation, but not exactly, what McKellen thinks he’s saying about Tolkien vs. X-Men, — that the Hobbit is inherently better art than X-Men — although it is not the necessary conclusion that McKellen implies, and in that case, without a sustained criticism of X-Men as an execution of its genre, his point remains unsubstantiated.) That combination of book with script meant that Armitage potentially had a lot of stuff he could do with the character, and, in turn, has plenty to say to us about what he’s doing with that character. Interesting comments about Thorin continue to flow from his lips, even as the same questions get asked repeatedly. However, the problem that ST:ID has that The Hobbit has not is precisely the result of the rightsholders’ actions. The Hobbit has an easier chance at being a successful franchise over time precisely because it’s not going to extend over time. It’s not television. Precisely because the rightsholders have created a situation in which there will (likely) be never be any more. Precisely because new writers can’t be recruited to impact what has happened before; precisely because no one can cheapen Thorin’s death by making it un-happen.

After watching ST:ID, I started to think that the two problems — artistic value and franchises — were potentially related in a way that makes me less than eager to see Armitage do another one. That is to say — franchises are more like television than they are like theater in that their stories are ongoing and don’t end so abruptly with the end of a film. If Armitage finishes a character arc in a single-story film, he can’t be compelled to bring it back in the same way that he was compelled by contract to go on playing Lucas North. If you contract to play a franchise role, can you get out of it if the scripts turn out to be terrible? Is a franchise just another version of the trap of series television, albeit in a much larger, more exposed setting?

IV. richard armitage + conclusions

So, first, for Richard Armitage. The blog is on record as not making career prescriptions or setting conditions for my fan love in advance. I’m open to seeing whatever Richard Armitage wants to do — and he should do what he likes with my full support, not that he needs it. Nothing he does next is going to put me off seeing his work.

I’m aware my judgments may seem controversial, but keep in mind, they’re only my judgments. They have no real bearing anything to do with him or even to do with you, even if they might be important to me.

That said: Richard III in some form is something he’s said he wants to do, the reason I’ve been supporting that project, and will continue to do so until it’s clear that he’s not interested any longer. My bitter spoofs about scriptwriting in the spring, here and here, notwithstanding, that story can’t be changed much and still be recognizable. It has a fixed arc that is quite likely unfranchiseable. And Armitage has researched the role enough that he would be capable of filling in the many, many huge holes in our knowledge of the historical figure with interesting psychological insights, while remaining resistant to huge plot-level changes. Admittedly, I wonder increasingly about the possibility that a project will materialize that he can do. My suspicion is that if a film isn’t underway in the next year, the moment will be lost. I hold open hopes for a stage project, however, that is not Shakespeare. At the same time, I would be unlikely to see anything he does on the London stage. I frequently have terrible allergic reactions to historical fictions, for which my standards are fairly severe — and given the likely basis of big chunks of the initial audience among Ricardians, this project potentially runs the risk of running aground on too faithful historicity. This is also the project with the least likely international exposure value to him.

I’ve been quiet about my potential reaction to the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society project beyond saying I’m not thrilled, because I read the book and formed an opinion before it was published. While that opinion is decided, it’s not really germane to whether Armitage should or shouldn’t do the project; at the same time, it’s not something I’m going to be able to forget. (If he does it, maybe I’ll write about my opinion then, because it is germane to how the script might be written or the project executed.) I agree that of the lobbies for particular projects fronted by fans and by which fans are most likely to be pleased, that is the one he is mostly likely speaking of when referring to a “charming” book. Adams is a taciturn figure, and Armitage is fantastic at signaling his emotions with his face and without words; at the same time in some ways he would be at risk of reprising John Standring, which would be fine, but repetitive. And perhaps the scriptwriters could skirt my objections to the book, although for various reasons I find that unlikely. Still, I wouldn’t be sad if he didn’t do this one, while I acknowledge that the project could be high exposure and finally lead him to less, shall we call them prosthetic, dramatic leads and perhaps projects of greater creative depth.

I’m already on record as thinking that the material in A Discovery of Witches is quite thin, even for what it is — although theoretically, again, scriptwriters could improve it substantially. (In comparison to the Strike Back novel by Chris Ryan, the television series is practically Shakespeare.) Armitage as the actor who plays the character of desire could do a lot with the visual and emotional level of this role — I wouldn’t contest that, as much as I remain uninterested in vampires generally, and this narrative as I know it so far in particular. I realized while watching ST:ID, however, that my real issue is that he’d be tied to it as a franchise, as the books are supposed to be a trilogy. If he gets this, I’ll have to read the other two books, and perhaps they will involve plot developments that would be of interest to him.

Finally, and amusingly: as I write this, the news flashed across my email that the Poldark Appreciation Society has voted Richard Armitage their favorite to play Ross Poldark. I confess that I have no idea what this means. But congratulations, Mr. Armitage! More fans are clamoring to see your work. I hope you can take this information to the negotiating table with you — whichever table you’re at.

To summarize my conclusion: watching and thinking about ST:ID, The Hobbit, the hype around The Hobbit and its potential effects on me, and my reaction to the possibility of an imprisoning franchise, I think what I personally, I and not Armitage, I and not you, want for Armitage in terms of a professional framework is a single discreet role that’s not likely to stretch over multiple years, and which is likely to be extremely well executed. Of the roles above, the most likely to be that role is Richard III or Dawsey Adams; the least likely, Matthew Clairmont; and I can’t say anything about Poldark.

I have something else to say about these roles as they affect “me + richard armitage” but since this post is likely to end up with some discussion of Armitage’s career options, I’ll stop on that and leave it for another time soon.

[And I hit publish only to go to bed once again vlog-less. Where are you, Peter Jackson??!???? Was the FB crash tonight due to people endlessly refreshing your page, like I was? Heavens, I am SO ON THE HOOK.]

~ by Servetus on June 19, 2013.