Amazon is the new kid on the theatrical motion picture block, having just announced its Hollywood studio-like motion picture ambitions to produce roughly 12 films per year (at very indie-like budgets of $5-$25 million each). Amazon already is a major player in OTT video, of course, with both Amazon Prime (including HBO-like original programming) and its "under the radar" stealth YouTube-like short-form video platform which continues to grow in prominence. Bottom line -- Amazon is now a full-fledged media company. After all, it just won its first highly-coveted traditional media accolade -- a pair of Golden Globes.
But, is it? After all, despite its media trappings (or in spite of them), make no mistake. Amazon still -- and always will be -- an e-commerce company first and foremost. Everything else is just bait, luring you into its infinite store of possibilities that Amazon monetizes in bulk and at low low margins. THAT, my friend, is Amazon's business model. Get you into the store -- keep you there -- and make it easy for you to whip out your credit cards.
That means that video content -- in whatever form it may take (premium shorts, licensed movies, original programming like Transparent, and now theatrical motion pictures) -- is the marketing pre-show for that main feature of shopping. In other words, content is a marketing spend, plain and simple -- and ultimate story-telling success is not measured by traditional Hollywood metrics (box office receipts). The only metrics that matter to Amazon are traditional retail metrics.
That means that Amazon's business model is fundamentally different than that of any pure-play entertainment company. Pure-play motion picture studios like Warner Bros. and pure-play entertainment distributors like Netflix can monetize one thing and one thing only -- the video content itself. Their sole metric of success relates directly to the motion picture content (box office/ancillary revenues and subscription numbers, respectively).
Not the same case for Amazon. Individual motion picture/content rules and metrics simply don't apply. There are no box office receipts to tally. No pure-play subscribers to count. This is retail baby! Amazon Studios succeeds if its motion pictures drive bodies into its virtual super-store and those bodies shop, shop, shop.
That means freedom. Business and creative freedom. Case in point, Amazon's series Transparent. Transparent is content built not for a mass audience, but rather for a passionate niche audience -- and that is good enough. No pressure for it to "succeed" in a traditional studio way. And, Amazon's newly-announced indie-like theatrical film strategy follows that same playbook. Produce "smaller" films for passionate niche audiences (niche audiences that it has already identified precisely via the deep shopping metrics and profiles that it has capture on each of us -- and continues to capture on each of us -- via our ongoing shopping habits). Release those small films theatrically first (both domestically and internationally), thereby marketing Amazon to passionate audiences in a highly visible new way. Collect whatever box office receipts that come (which is seen as being pure gravy). Perhaps also collect some industry accolades for them (after all, underlying economic freedom leads to creative freedom which may lead to more celebrated films) -- more great marketing. Subsequently, exclusively feature them on Amazon Prime (more marketing).
THAT is Amazon-ics.
The studios don't have it. Netflix doesn't have it (although Netflix's pure-play subscription model also allows for more business and creative flexibility as well in its pure-play model, because the only metric that matters is overall subscription growth; hence Netflix's own revolutionary moves that have led to the two phenomena of "binge" viewing and true "day and date" theatrical/digital release (its upcoming plans for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon 2, among others).
Interestingly, other major tech titans have something like it. Apple, Google and Samsung similarly use content as advertising to drive their underlying core business models of hardware sales and advertising -- not primarily to monetize the content itself. Again, that leads to more business and creative freedom. Here is my recent discussion in that regard.
What does this mean for filmmakers and we, the audience?
Right now, indie filmmakers should rejoice because they have a new potential home for their labors of love, the success of which is not measured solely by the box office revenues they generate. That means more indie-like stories will be told.
And, that means more movie variety for all of us.
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Rabu, 21 Januari 2015
Selasa, 04 Desember 2012
The Slow Death of Books, Films & Music (& Potential Catastrophic Impact on Generational Information Exchange)
Over the weekend, TechCrunch's Ryan Lawler wrote an important piece titled "The Death of Paper." In it, Lawler discusses society's accelerating focus and dependence on digitized information and how it is fast replacing society's reliance upon "physical, semi-permanent medi[a]" -- which has been at the core of humankind's information exchange since the beginnings of time. Lawler focuses most on the replacement of paper (e.g., books, etc.) via digitization. But, he also identifies the same for film and music.
At the end of his piece, he asks the critical question: "In 20 years, if there are no physical books, what will future cultures know about us in 220 years, when digital memories are likely wiped away?"
Lawler identifies the right question here, but he does not elaborate on this potentially cataclysmic ramifications of this issue -- which are real, very real.
How can that be, you ask? Digitized information is even more secure and lasting than physical media, you say.
But, that is not the case at all -- and society holds a fundamental misconception of this fundamental problem that has potentially massive adverse consequences to information exchange from our generations to future generations. I know this sounds like "the boy who cried wolf," but it really isn't.
I recently identified the same "digital dilemma" in a guest post for The Huffington Post, titled "Indie Filmmakers and the Digital Dilemma." In my piece, I focus on the potential for whole generations of motion pictures -- some of our greatest art -- to be wiped out simply by the inexorable march of time. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences defined the problem and unappreciated reality in the following way:
"Compared to traditional filmmaking using motion picture film stock, digital technologies make it easier to create motion pictures, but the resulting digital data is much harder to preserve."
Here's why. As I identified in my piece, which applies equally to all forms of digital data), digital data is subject to invisible failure mechanisms at many levels, including:
(1) the actual recording media,
(2) the data reading and writing system in the digital storage device,
(3) the data interface that connects the storage device to a computer,
(4) the computer network that connects individual machines, and
(5) the many levels of software that control the overall system.
For all these reasons, long-term preservation of digital data requires both costly professionally managed digital storage systems and processes, and perpetual operational support (which includes continuous migration to newer storage technologies).
But, how much of that is really being done?
In the case of independent film, the Utah Film & Media Arts Coalition -- which is based in Salt Lake City (the home of independent film's Sundance Film Festival) -- hopes to build a massive digital film archive to preserve that fundamental art-form for future generations. However, it needs significant private financial support to make this a reality -- and we are not there yet (I am a member of this Coalition which is now in the RFP process).
How about all other media? Society's books? Movies? Music? Your books? Your movies? Your music?
Right now, much of this digitized data is in the grips of a slow death march. I can hear the funeral dirge as we speak.
But, that music is slowly ... ever so slowly ... almost unnoticeably -- fading away ....
At the end of his piece, he asks the critical question: "In 20 years, if there are no physical books, what will future cultures know about us in 220 years, when digital memories are likely wiped away?"
Lawler identifies the right question here, but he does not elaborate on this potentially cataclysmic ramifications of this issue -- which are real, very real.
How can that be, you ask? Digitized information is even more secure and lasting than physical media, you say.
But, that is not the case at all -- and society holds a fundamental misconception of this fundamental problem that has potentially massive adverse consequences to information exchange from our generations to future generations. I know this sounds like "the boy who cried wolf," but it really isn't.
I recently identified the same "digital dilemma" in a guest post for The Huffington Post, titled "Indie Filmmakers and the Digital Dilemma." In my piece, I focus on the potential for whole generations of motion pictures -- some of our greatest art -- to be wiped out simply by the inexorable march of time. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences defined the problem and unappreciated reality in the following way:
"Compared to traditional filmmaking using motion picture film stock, digital technologies make it easier to create motion pictures, but the resulting digital data is much harder to preserve."
Here's why. As I identified in my piece, which applies equally to all forms of digital data), digital data is subject to invisible failure mechanisms at many levels, including:
(1) the actual recording media,
(2) the data reading and writing system in the digital storage device,
(3) the data interface that connects the storage device to a computer,
(4) the computer network that connects individual machines, and
(5) the many levels of software that control the overall system.
For all these reasons, long-term preservation of digital data requires both costly professionally managed digital storage systems and processes, and perpetual operational support (which includes continuous migration to newer storage technologies).
But, how much of that is really being done?
In the case of independent film, the Utah Film & Media Arts Coalition -- which is based in Salt Lake City (the home of independent film's Sundance Film Festival) -- hopes to build a massive digital film archive to preserve that fundamental art-form for future generations. However, it needs significant private financial support to make this a reality -- and we are not there yet (I am a member of this Coalition which is now in the RFP process).
How about all other media? Society's books? Movies? Music? Your books? Your movies? Your music?
Right now, much of this digitized data is in the grips of a slow death march. I can hear the funeral dirge as we speak.
But, that music is slowly ... ever so slowly ... almost unnoticeably -- fading away ....
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