I’m three seconds in and Justice League is already one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen https://t.co/1DtE7JoNYo— Alex Shephard (@Alex Shephard) 1616067938.0
Update 5/22/2020: It's been announced that the Snyder Cut of Justice League will be released on HBO Max sometime next year, prompting star Jason Momoa to post a promotional image to Instagram with the accompanying text "finally it's happening" and "justice served." While this is the outcome fans were hoping for, a long term solution to alternate cut controversies is still called for.
There's a proud and storied tradition of studio interference in Hollywood.
Studio money pays for every aspect of a movie's production, and sometimes the directors those studios hire can't be trusted to cater their films directly to the lowest common denominator. After all, how can their investment be guaranteed to net a big return if there are members of the audience who will be confused or disturbed by challenging elements of the movie?
The best solution is obviously not to come to a clear understanding of what the project will achieve in advance... No, the best solution is to wait until the director has finished pursuing their vision, then to chop that vision to bits and stitch it back together into something more marketable.
The #releasethejjcut stuff is such a mess. A Star Wars subreddit has a huge post this morning up outlining instan… https://t.co/x24gw8wX78— Ryan Broderick (@Ryan Broderick) 1577981002.0
Since at least 1942, when RKO recut and destroyed Orson Welles' original version of The Magnificent Ambersons— which Welles blamed for the decline of his career in Hollywood — there have been legends of lost directors' cuts that could restore the glory of what might have been. The latest entrants into that category are the so-called Snyder Cut of 2017's Justice League and the JJ Cut of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.
Though without his decline, we might have missed out on drunk, surly Orson Welles
Of course Zach Snyder and J.J. Abrams — both known for delivering fast-paced action movies — are not the kind of directors traditionally thought of in these scenarios. Legends of studio interference always involve directors sacrificing broad entertainment value for some more lofty artistry, but Abrams and Snyder are both such blockbuster workhorses that this devoted passion to restoring their work might seem surprising at first.
Are people truly so invested in movies that were only ever trying to be adrenaline-pumping, flashy fun? Obviously yes, that's the dumbest question you've ever asked.
snydercut.com
The #ReleaseTheSnyderCut movement is now more than two years old, but it has only picked up steam since the original petition kicked things off. Advocates have even channeled some of their energy into charitable efforts supporting the Association for Suicide Prevention, as the tragic death of Zach Snyder's daughter led to Warner Bros. bringing in Joss Whedon to complete (and supposedly ruin) the film.
According to the movement's official website, it has taken on such a life of its own that many of its proponents have taken to using the term Snyder Cut "as short-hand for a superior version of anything they find disappointing." Clearly the recent emergence of #ReleaseTheJJCut has picked up that spirit and run with it.
Is this the new norm for major film franchises? Any time fan expectations are set higher than what the studio delivers, fans will channel their angst into an imagined perfect version — and a corresponding movement? And if so, is that better or worse than the Game of Thrones fans petitioning to get the entire eighth season remade?
The more you dig into the details of fans' wild speculation, the more apparent it becomes that people have invested their entire identities into these franchises. No amount of arguing that these alternate cuts may not exist or will never be released is enough to dissuade them. It's a level of emotional attachment that leads them to mistake the studios' transparent profit seeking — tinkering with their products to broaden their appeal — for some sort of malicious betrayal of the fans, the creators, and the franchises.
Disney, in particular, has taken on a villainous aura in recent days among proponents of the J.J. Cut. Spurred on by the anonymous Reddit post that claims to be drawing from inside info, fans have dug into every detail that surrounds the movie that disappointed them on such a deep, personal level, and have uncovered a conspiracy that is unbelievable in the truest sense of that word.
The same kind of Reddit detectives that previously brought us gems such as blaming an innocent, dead Indian man for the Boston Bombing, have now convinced themselves of the existence of a plethora of competing edits—a George Lucas cut?—that Disney has suppressed in a deliberate effort to undermine the integrity of the film they spent hundreds of millions of dollars producing and promoting.
The crux of the argument points to the exclusive deal that J.J. Abrams production studio, Bad Robot, recently signed with WarnerMedia — the studio responsible for the DC Extended Universe movies, which have failed to compete with Disney/Marvel's domination of the superhero genre.
According to this anonymous friend of an anonymous insider close to J.J. Abrams (these degrees of removal and layers of secrecy are necessary when leaking state secrets), Disney was threatened by the idea that Abrams would be brought on board the DCEU in an attempt to revitalize that franchise. So threatened, in fact, that they immediately set out to sabotage his career, and their own multi-billion-dollar franchise in the process...
"They want to keep DC in the limbo that they're in right now. Abrams jumpstarting that franchise with something like a successful, audience-pleasing Superman movie makes them nervous. Their goal is to make JJ look bad to potential investors/shareholders."
Apparently Abram's pristine, three hour version of The Rise of Skywalker would have included a mind-blowing ending full of familiar force ghosts, more scenes of Rose Tico, more development for the same-sex couple who kiss at the end, and some supposedly amazing scenes of Adam Driver's Kylo Ren that would have "provided much more context and added deeper meaning to both his battle with Rey and the final redemption arc." The anonymous source remains unclear on the question of whether this lost version would also have freed Tibet and ended global warming, but it certainly sounds likely.
Polygon
If the source is telling the truth (and that is a bellowed, deafening if, echoing into eternity) then Disney chopped and screwed J.J. Abrams' vision for The Rise of Skywalker with the express intent of undermining the general impression of his competence as a filmmaker, so that Warner — the villains who suppressed the Snyder Cut — would not trust him with their Marvel competitor, and thus lose out on a franchise-saving work of genius.
Honestly, as crazy and convoluted as it sounds, it does present a compelling narrative. And, however unlikely it seems that Disney would do anything to intentionally damage the Star Wars Franchise that they have just spent billions turning into a permanent fixture in their theme parks, massive corporations have done much worse and crazier things in the past.
Regardless of the truth behind these theories — whether Finn was meant to be a force-user who is also in a romantic relationship with Poe Dameron, or the Green Lantern was truly cut from Justice League— there is a solution to the tension between studios, directors, and fans when it comes to these mythical lost cuts. As with so many of the problems that arise from the blind pursuit of profit, the solution lies with collective action. Namely, action on the part of the Directors Guild of America.
If the guild put its heft behind a new contractual requirement — giving directors the option to preserve and release their own edit of their films — all this speculation could be erased. Executed properly, the studios would have nothing to lose, and directors would receive an added insurance against studio meddling — protecting their creative work.
Simply put, if the studios wanted to retain the right to make final edits for the theatrical release of blockbusters, they would have to allow the directors to preserve and control their own cut—if only for digital release at a later date.
The guild already has Director's Cut protections — ensuring that directors are able to prepare their versions in the first place — as part of their "Creative Bill of Rights," and it would only require a slight expansion of those rights to create an option for separate release. While neither party would be likely to find this entirely satisfying — which is to say that it's a true compromise — creators, actors, and Jason Momoa would no longer be forced to fight for their preferred version.
Formalizing a standard agreement for a director's cut release would quell unrest among ravenous fans, and give them an outlet to spend even more of their money and resolve the rampant speculation.
If the current passion for alternate cuts could be captured and channeled into a more general #DirectorsCut movement, the Directors Guild could get it done. The controversy could then shift to its natural home — disputes among fans about which version is best. The old Star Wars model of re-re-re-releases of various iterations could spread like a virus through the rest of the film industry and swallow up the entire scope of fandom, while studios and directors got rich together off the whole mess.
So… make it happen. #DirectorsCut
- Only Issue with "The Rise of Skywalker" Is the Lesbian Kiss - Popdust ›
- Can Zack Snyder's "Rebel Moon" Compete with Star Wars? - Popdust ›
The Upside of the Coronavirus: We're Finally Past Celebrity Drama
Celebrities' normal antics are not as entertaining (or as important) as they once seemed.
Kim Kardashian has lashed out at Taylor Swift, or Taylor Swift has lashed out at Kim Kardashian, but most of all, both lashed out at all of us for constantly devouring their drama.
Kardashian volleyed a bunch of tweets last night, admonishing Swift for apparently re-invigorating their briefly dead feud and then disavowing the feud on the whole. She finished, "This will be the last time I speak on this because honestly, nobody cares. Sorry to bore you all with this. I know you are all dealing with more serious and important matters."
Swift also responded negatively to the feud's resurfacing. "Instead of answering those who are asking how I feel about the video footage that leaked, proving that I was telling the truth the whole time about *that call* (you know, the one that was illegally recorded, that somebody edited and manipulated in order to frame me and put me, my family, and fans through hell for 4 years)… SWIPE up to see what really matters," she posted on Instagram. When fans swiped, they were taken to a donation page for the nonprofit Feeding America and the World Health Organization's Solidarity Response Fund.
The mind-numbing stupidity of the Taylor Swift-Kim Kardashian-Kanye West feud feels even more obvious in the light of the fact that we're living in a pandemic. Are we entering the age of the post-celebrity feud?
Everywhere, celebrities and ordinary people are expressing rage and anger at those who attempt to continue with business at usual. People who cluster on the street and hang out in parks are the recipient of angry yells from the balcony-bound self-quarantined. Those with any inclination towards the mystic are writing about how the world must change after coronavirus passes—how we cannot return to the way things were, to the way we mindlessly destroyed the planet and hurt each other, thus somehow cursing ourselves into isolation. Humans are the virus, they write; to which the activists respond, capitalism is the virus, while people facing unemployment attempt to vie for a rent freeze.
Even ordinary acts of "kindness"—of the sort we would normally associate with celebrity benevolence—are beginning to appear woefully out of touch. In essence, Hollywood's version of prepackaged, performative kindness and drama seems to be failing to placate the masses. Instead, it only serves to show that the main difference between these folks and regular people isn't necessarily hard work or talent—it's money.
Ellen's versions of "tolerance" and "kindness" were under scrutiny before the virus, but now that she's live-streaming from her couch and complaining about boredom from within her massive home, a thread about her cruel behavior has gone viral.
Madonna also faced vitriol when she made a poorly crafted attempt to comfort her fans from the safety of her bathtub. "Coronavirus is the great equalizer," she said, equating her own living situation—in a flower-filled bathtub, safe within one of her multiple large homes—with the plight of people who have no way of paying this month's rent. (She faced so much backlash that she deleted the video).
And then there's Gal Gadot's "Imagine" video, a horror that seemed to seep out of the wounds coronavirus has already made in our world and ways of life. What was the worst thing about that video? Was it Gadot's waffling intro? Was it seeing our beloved celebrities, without their stage makeup and lighting and cameramen to turn them into gods—was it seeing our celebrities' mortality and feeling some inordinate rage that we've worshiped them for so long while they were really just ordinary people? Was it the look in their eyes, the tepid sorrow overshadowed by a glossy egoism, the same look in the eyes of everyone who has taken a photograph with a child on a service trip? Was it the different keys, the lack of background music, the carelessness of the whole thing?
The "Imagine" video was awful, certainly, but would we have hated it so much if it were well-made, a professional music video with excellent harmonies and good lighting and dazzling costumes? Maybe the disappointment we feel while watching the "Imagine" fiasco stems from a feeling of falling, a realization that the person behind the curtain has always been just an ordinary man, and yet these mortals are languishing in massive air-conditioned homes while so many people sleep on the streets.
Some of the celebrity responses to coronavirus are not just disillusioned; they're truly dangerous. Vanessa Hudgens also provoked ire when she posted a video showing just how much she cared about those who might be affected by the virus. "Even if everybody gets it, like yeah, people are going to die, which is terrible... but inevitable?" she intoned in a video she later apologized for. Worse still, Evangelline Lilly is crusading against quarantining herself on the basis of some idea that it's a violation of her American-born "freedom."
And then there's Donald Trump, the reigning king of the celebrity illusionists. Everything he says sounds as painful and as hollow as the "Imagine" video to some of our ears. Recently, a man died because he tried drinking chloroquine phosphate, a fish tank-cleaner, per Trump's ill-advised recommendation. Trump has been persistently spreading false information, promising that America will be up and running by Easter as other nations tighten their regulations.
Most of the guiltiest illusionists of all aren't even visible. They're the Wall Street executives and the genuinely super-rich—not the Hollywood-level rich but the Jeff Bezos-level rich, those who possess a literally unfathomable amount of money—the ones who have already raced off to their bunkers, the ones who bought stocks at the start of the crisis instead of raising the alarm.
Collectively, maybe we're all getting tired of these folks, parading their gaudy lifestyles and tapping out their stocks, getting early access to tests while our healthcare workers can't even access tests in their own hospitals. Illusions just aren't going to cut it the way they used to. That's not to say they won't change form; certainly our new very-online lives will leave plenty of room for performance and fabrication. Still, the coronavirus feels like it's peeling back many layers of performative benevolence to reveal the insubstantiality at the heart of it all—the wealth inequality and pure selfishness that's allowing this crisis to sputter on into the disruptive mess it's become. Even Kim Kardashian, Taylor Swift, and Britney Spears are waking up to it. Are you?