III.

Distribution

Although far less glamorous than film production, and rarely discussed outside the industry, distribution is in many ways the key element in the whole process. No matter how brilliant a film, if it fails to get distribution it might as well have not been made; if its distribution is restricted, or ineptly handled, it is likely to be branded—initially at least—a flop. The debut film of Orson Welles, Citizen Kane (1941), which was widely viewed as a thinly veiled, unflattering depiction of the newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst, was denied the distribution it deserved thanks to the machinations of the Hearst press, and despite enthusiastic reviews failed to recoup its costs; this commercial failure lastingly blighted Welles’s career. By contrast, a film released with the full weight of a major distribution campaign behind it will almost inevitably do well, no matter what its quality—witness The Da Vinci Code (2006). Whether or not a British film performs well at the US box-office, as did Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) and Bend It Like Beckham (2002), often depends less on its inherent quality than on a shrewdly negotiated distribution deal.

In the earliest days of cinema, distributors were simply middlemen who marketed films to individual cinema owners, arranged for their delivery, and took a percentage of the box office. As the industry became organized, the major producing studios took control of the distribution of their films, often exerting pressure over the exhibitors to accept “block bookings” of a number of films at once as an indivisible package. In the United States, independent producers, such as David O. Selznick, signed distribution deals with one or other of the major studios. Less powerful figures than Selznick often opted for United Artists, reputed to be more sympathetic to struggling independents.

The decline of the studios led to the rise of independent distributors such as Orion, Miramax, and Castle Rock, many of them exerting comparable power and creative control to the erstwhile Hollywood majors. Frequently, independent productions are financed through “distribution deals”, whereby the distributor puts up a sizeable portion of the budget in return for distribution rights in some or all markets. As a result, the distribution company may feel entitled to dictate changes in casting, script, creative personnel, and final cut. This can be a positive influence: Frank Darabont has spoken of the “generous and wise” support given by Castle Rock to his debut film, The Shawshank Redemption (1994). By contrast, Miramax became notorious for putting pressure on film-makers to conform to its demands and for its sometimes merciless editing in post-production.

Lavish distribution may not always be in a film’s best interests. A minority-interest film can be harmed by opening “too wide”—in a large number of cinemas where each theatre’s box-office returns are too low to defray the cost of striking and distributing multiple prints. Such a film may be better served by giving it a limited release in a small number of cinemas, then gradually broadening out into more outlets as its word-of-mouth reputation grows. However, if the initial release is too narrow, the film may fail to attract its destined audience in the first place. Such calculations require experience and very fine judgement.

Definitions of “wide” and “narrow” openings of course vary: but a “wide” opening may mean simultaneous release on upwards of 3,000 screens in the United States, or 1,200 in the United Kingdom. (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (2007) was given a worldwide opening on 9,000 screens—probably an all-time record.) A “narrow” opening could be anything from a single screen—as happened to Christopher Nolan’s feature debut Following (1998) in the UK—to 100 in the US, or 40 in the UK. Timing of a release is no less crucial. The classic pattern is for the majors to release their “summer blockbusters” during the summer holidays and “family pictures” in the run-up to Christmas. Oscar-hopefuls are often sneaked in during the final days of the year in order to qualify for the next year’s voting. The so-called “graveyard-slot” of January and February, traditionally shunned by the major producing companies, may be ideal for niche arthouse films likely to appeal to audiences starved of intellectual sustenance during the “kiddie-pic” season.

Distribution patterns have become increasingly complex as new technologies have entered the field. In the early years of cinema it was widely assumed that films had a viable life of a year or two at best—which is why so many silent films are no longer extant, all negatives and prints having being junked for their silver nitrate content. Gradually it was realized that a film could have an afterlife—all the more so once the studios began leasing their back catalogues to television. Since the advent of VHS video, and then DVD, the return on a film’s cinematic release may be only a small percentage of its earning potential. The situation is further complicated by Internet download, a technology with which the industry is still grappling.