New Year's Resolutions for Hollywood

No, I don't think any of these will stick. But wouldn't it be nice if they did? Here we go.

1. Put the writers back to work.

And that means cave, you stupid studios, cave cave cave cave cave. Surrender, like the French military at a fireworks show. Fold, like the rusty accordion you'd sell your mothers for if it had the rights to The Hobbit inside. I understand y'all have massive egos, but it seems like you don't have much trouble swallowing your pride long enough to suck Will Smith's toes as you beg him to let you write him a $30 million check, so I sort of think it wouldn't be that big a blow to your collective bravado to make a few small concessions and allow the writers to come back in and type up the full slate of blockbusters and hit shows that will save all your asses from a shareholder revolt later in the year. Good? Good. Now pick up the phone and I won't tell anyone the story I heard from the pharmacist at the Brentwood Rite Aid about the cream you've been using ever since that "acquisitions" trip to Bangkok last fall.

I put this resolution first not because I'm some crazed pro-writer propagandist (well, OK, I kind of am, but that's not the main reason) but rather because everything else is irrelevant unless and until this particular issue gets settled.



2. Release the occasional movie that isn't a sequel, prequel, remake, reboot, franchise-starter, spin-off, knock-off, or... you get the point.













Sometimes I lie awake at night wondering what would happen if every single non-original movie from now on were an utter failure at the box office. If the only successful movies were interesting, unique one-time-only films that didn't end with a "To Be Continued..." and the concept poster for the next installment staring you in the face as you walked back into the lobby.

Yeah, it's a nice thought, but I know it's not realistic. And I'm aware that there are some pretty great sequels and prequels and threequels and so forth; at their best, they're the movies we get the most excited about seeing. I'll freely admit to my unrestrained glee at the fact that this year holds the promise of new James Bond, Batman, and Indiana Jones films. I just wish the well-manicured men and women in charge would take a look at the accounting books once in a while (helpful note: the non-doctored ones are on the lower shelf) and realize that it's possible to make a lot of money on individual movies and even more possible to lose a lot of money on franchises and sequels and all that.

The more the universe gets bloated with films with numbers in the title, or cross-dressing comedians who aren't Eddie Izzard, or an unusually techno-savvy Nicolas Cage, or mysterious killers who target former WB starlets, or beautiful quirky anorexic twentysomethings who can't get dates, or enormous suburban families whose dads are always falling off the roof, or teenage hackers in Ed Hardy shirts who stumble onto government secrets, or magical prophecies involving Dakota Fanning lookalikes, or adorably plucky pets who save the world, or bad-ass white guy ninjas who make Crystal Method songs magically play when they walk into a room, or million dollar Manhattan weddings where everything's going wrong, gosh darn it, or loosely interpreted historical battles with extra carnage and/or nudity helpfully thrown in, or superfast cars much more interesting than the people driving them, or black sports teams who just need a white coach to teach them to win, or any combination or permutation of any of the above -- the more all that becomes the inescapable reality of moviedom, the more people like me will prefer to stay home and watch something better via Netflix or the DVR.

Good, original movies can make money. It's happened before and it'll happen again. Please let it. Thank you.



3. Settle the goddamn high-definition format war.














2006 was not a great year for movies overall, but these two were pretty awesome. Do me a solid, Hollywood, and let me watch them both on the same kind of disc.


4. Help me destroy MTV.













Remember this logo and slogan? The last time it was remotely applicable, Michael Jackson still appeared mostly normal, Madonna was a Catholic, and Tom Cruise was just a movie star. And yet, all three of them have done a much better job of retaining their identities in the years since than MTV has. Once upon a time, MTV propelled artists to stardom while reporting on what was cool and happening in America. Now... well, I'm not sure what they do now because I can't go near the channel. I think they pay teenagers to videotape their parents having sex in Run DMC's pool, or something like that. Oh, and a girl pretending to be bisexual tries to find a date while reading from a bad script (but a script nonetheless, people) about how hard the decision is. That one I knew about. And as for the music, they leave it to MySpace to find the bands and then make them embarrass themselves with horribly uninteresting videos shot by film school freshman. (Not movie film school, mind you; I'm talking about the school you go to to learn how to make the disgusting film that forms on the top of weeks-old coffee.) Bottom line: MTV must be decimated. Quickly, and permanently. I don't even know why this is a topic for debate; if we'd done this ten years ago we could have headed off Carson Daly's rise to power.



And that's all. Now get that gym membership and diet book, Hollywood, and go to work.