Movie Rereleases: Bringing it Back to the Big Screen

Is it worth seeing a movie in theaters when you can just watch the same movie on DVD?

Since the dawn of the internet, movie theater attendance has declined, mainly because many people are acquiring the technology to see the films from the comfort of their homes. Innovations, beginning with VHS, continuing with DVD's, and currently standing with Blu Ray high-definition technology, makes the viewer's movie experience easier and more convenient. And today, sites like Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Prime prevent even the purchase of physical discs in favor on instant streaming over the internet (usually for cheaper prices, as well). With all these modern marvels, why should anyone even bother to go to the movie theater?

Simple answer: the experience.

People do not realize how much of the movie they are missing by watching it at home. Sure, it remains easier to be able to stop, rewind, and fast forward whenever viewers want. And yes, watching at home prevents all the pesky annoyances of people, distance, and price that the theaters are plagued by. But the theater offers a singularly unique experience that no other format can capture.

The cineplexes have seen a recent resurgence of bringing classic movies back to the big screen. In the past year alone, movie theaters have rereleased Titanic, Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace, and Jurassic Park, oftentimes upgraded to IMAX and 3-D formats. Fathom Events (a company that holds special "one-day" screenings for shows, games, and classic films) even held a 20th Anniversary Event for Quentin Tarantino, returning Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction to the big screen once again.

Back before home video and the internet, theater rereleases were the only way movie buffs could see their favorite films again. They promoted sequels and celebrated anniversaries and movie stars. Sometimes, movie rereleases even brought films to the foreground that were once considered minuscule or unsuccessful; for example, Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo was once a critical and commercial failure, but after recent renovations and second opinions, it is now regarded as Hitchcock's masterpiece and one of the greatest movies ever made.

Some moviegoers will not think twice about attending these films; if the movie warrants a rerelease, it's likely that it has a strong cult following to back it up. However, most people would simply shrug at the rerelease, saying that they can see the movie on their own time at home. These people are the problem with contemporary moviegoing society; a lack of interest in seeing movies at the theaters hurts ticket sales, harms the studio company and theaters distributing the film, and ultimately affects future movie production values.

So why should a person go see a rerelease?

For starters, directors make their movies with the intention of showing them at the movie theater. The huge screen and perfect surround sound are built around how a director films a picture. When shrunk to fit the television, however, some of the clarity and film is lost, further crippled by the less-than-efficient sound system. While TV's and stereos have seemingly adapted to this problem, it remains nearly impossible to justly capture the movie from the theater format.

Worse still, movies shown on TV are drastically impaired. In order to fit the aspect ratio of certain televisions and channel requirements, some of the "unimportant" images are cut from the original motion picture. Those pesky "this film has been formatted to fit this screen" warnings indicate that someone has cropped some of the image to adjust for the television size. Widescreen is an alright fix, but some of the image effectiveness is lost.

In addition, seeing a movie at the theater is simply a better experience. Sure, the cost is a little higher; however, the added incentive of seeing a movie the way it was meant to be seen should not remain overlooked. Many readers may not remember seeing a particular movie on the big screen, or were not even born at the time of initial release. Imagine seeing The Godfather, Star Wars, Psycho, Independence Day, and Die Hard the way people initially watched them: in a dark room, filled with the loud noises of action and explosions, and looking at a screen larger than life. And people who have not even seen the rerelease have no excuse. There remains no better way to watch a movie for the first time than on the silver screen.

But most importantly, going to the movie theater is plain, old-fashioned fun. It remains an event, a sacred outing among universal values of entertainment. Seeing Jurassic Park at the movie theater was unlike anything I have ever experienced before; even though I have seen the film multiple times, even recently, I was still on the edge of my seat the entire T-Rex chase. The seats vibrated with each colossal footstep, and the sound of roars sent shivers down my spine.

So is it worth the contemporary prices of $11.50 and (gasp!) $15.00 for 3-D rereleases? The answer is yes, because going to the movie theater is fun, and there remains no better way to watch a movie than on the silver screen. No matter how much one thinks they know about a film, seeing it at a movie theater is a completely different experience. When the lights go out, and the opening credits start to roll, people will forget everything they know about a movie. For two hours, people can escape their lives and emmerse themselves into the cinematic magic of their favorite films.

And that itself is worth the price of admission.

Flashback Friday: Jurassic Park (Spielberg, 1993)

Is it possible to imagine a world without computer-generated imagery (CGI)? Without these special effects, the realism of the movies would be reduced to whatever filmmakers could physically build; while this does have it's advantages, CGI leads the cinema of the future. In 1993, famed director Steven Spielberg braved the odds to create what remains arguably the greatest technological film achievement of the '90's. In this new film, the Jaws director harkened viewers back to the golden age of monster movies, with some of cinema's most thrilling creatures ever created. All of this terror was made possible by CGI technology, harrowing a revolution of moviemaking throughout the end of the century and beyond. On the film's 20th Anniversary, Movie Critic's Club is returning to the dawn of CGI, and the dawn of the dinosaurs. Today on Flashback Friday, we're taking an adventure to Jurassic Park.

Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in 1990, and before the book was even published, film studios were already competing for the rights to the novel. Steven Spielberg, seeking more serious adult-fare and trying to break away from his "kids movie" stereotype, wanted to make Schindler's List. Universal Studios, having acquired rights to Jurassic Park, agreed to back Spielberg on Schindler's List only if he made Jurassic Park first. Spielberg agreed, and 1993 was led by the release of what would become two of Spielberg's greatest works.

Jurassic Park's titular island is the creation of John Hammond (Richard Attenborough), a billionaire industrialist with creative ideas but little moral standards. He provides the financial backing for several scientists to create an innovative technology: cloned, real-life dinosaurs. The basic idea behind the technology is that by taking the blood of mosquitos that have been frozen since the dinosaur age, scientists can clone actual dinosaurs by creating eggs with the combination of the frozen blood and frog DNA to fill in the gaps. On the island, they have many popular creatures, including brontosaurus, velociraptors, triceratops, and, of course, a T-Rex. How do they contain them? Simple. All dinosaurs on Jurassic Park are female.

After a feeding results in the death of an employee, investors demand a thorough examination of the park's safety. Hammond brings in famed paleontologists Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill) and Dr. Ellie Satler (Laura Dern), chaos theorist Dr. Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum), lawyer Donald Gennaro (Martin Ferrero), and Hammond's grandchildren Lex and Tim (Ariana Richards and Joseph Mazzello) to preview Jurassic Park. Along with the park's own game warden Robert Muldoon (Bob Peck) and technician Ray Arnold (Samuel L. Jackson), the visitors are initially impressed by the appearance of actual dinosaurs.

However, they start to question the moral grounds of the park, and things start to dampen with the arrival of a brutal storm. Their argument makes sense; as Malcolm points out, the scientists at Jurassic Park are essentially rebirthing a species made extinct by nature. Dinosaurs are not like other technologies or even modern animals, because for a time they were the dominant race on the planet. Now, they have to co-exist with humanity, a relationship avoided because of millions of years of evolution. Spielberg obviously agrees with controversy, as the park is made on an island, away from society (and therefore moral standards). No matter the benefits, Jurassic Park remains a project that should never have happened.  

Jurassic Park is suddenly thrust into chaos after a traitorous technician named Dennis Nedry (Wayne Knight) shuts down power throughout the park to steal dinosaur embryos. Suddenly, all the gates keeping the dinosaurs at bay is shut off, and the humans are left on the island alone... with rampaging dinosaurs on the loose.

Jurassic Park remains a high-concept, thrilling adventure that plays like a favorite amusement park ride. It is fast, entertaining, and scary when most other films would reduce the story to pure nonsense. Spielberg keeps audiences riveted with the visual magic yet does not lose sight of the surprisingly creative plot.

The CGI of the movie revolutionized what was possible at the time of its release, and the first arrival of the dinosaurs remains one of cinema's most magical moments. While animatronics were used for several of the dinosaurs (including the T-Rex, which in 1993 was the largest animatronic ever built), CGI dinos captured the imagination and thrills of the audience. This almost magical technology made way for several director's projects, most notably George Lucas, who after seeing the innovations of Jurassic Park decided that technology was ready for him to create the Star Wars prequels.

The film is not bogged down by the normally gory effects of sci-fi monster horrors, and instead maintains the famous Spielberg principle of hiding the villain until late into the story. Like Jaws, we are not exposed to either the monstrous T-Rex or the savage velociraptors until over halfway through the movie. Instead, the audience is forced to imagine what terrors the creature actually holds for themselves. This brilliant direction allows for smartly crafted suspense and eager anticipation. And on this end, Spielberg does not disappoint.

Jurassic Park remains infamous for two of the most suspenseful scenes in motion picture history: the arrival of the T-Rex, and the kids being chased by velociraptors in the kitchen. After the power goes out, and the visitors are trapped in their motionless vehicles, they notice loud vibrations coming towards them. Suddenly, they see a large eye in the grassy trees, and the slow ascent of a massive head- the T-Rex upright and fearsome. The huge beast comes towards the vehicle with the children, and lets out a massive roar that shakes the viewers to their cores. The second scene, the velociraptor chase, is arguably even more suspenseful than the arrival of the T-Rex, because it involves a confined area with fierce hunters. In both cases, CGI and Spielberg's masterful direction crafted thrilling images.

Like many of Spielberg's films, Jurassic Park features a beautiful score by John Williams, easily the greatest living movie composer. His music drives the action of the narrative, creating art with majestic scenary or suspense with silence. Two themes are featured in the movie: the beautiful end credits and the triumphant adventure score. Both are very powerful, and Williams furthers his own legacy with this legendary score.

This month, Universal released a 3-D upgrade for the movie's 20th Anniversary. After viewing the enhanced film, I can honestly say that the magic of Jurassic Park is not harmed, but rather improved with the latest technologies. The movie is almost designed to function with the added depth of 3-D, with foregrounds established and dinosaurs launching themselves towards the audience. The now-known thrills make us jump once again. Plus, for anyone like myself who was unable to see the film during it's initial release, seeing Jurassic Park on the big screen remains a totally different experience that all should see.

Jurassic Park remains one the most magical movies in cinematic history. Whether by the vast improvements to film technology, the directorial thrills, or even just the giddy fun of seeing dinosaurs, Steven Spielberg's 1993 blockbuster smash (where it became the highest-grossing film of all time until that boat movie was released in 1997) remains a legendary achievement in moviemaking. If there is one thing the recent re-release has shown us, it is that Jurassic Park remains as timeless as ever, and it's recent 3-D rendering only aids the cinematic magic of this thrilling masterpiece.  It makes viewers believe in the power of the movies, and we look forward to enjoying it for another 20 years.

42 (Helgeland, 2013)

Like the title number's baseball legend, 42 steals home quite frequently.

Elevated by grand slam performances from both Chadwick Boseman and Harrison Ford, 42 is a home run. There are only a couple minor foul balls, and nearly everything in this film seems to avoid strikeouts. The director nicely addresses several of the curveballs that came across the hero's journey, from a screwball opposing manager to a country seeming to want to take a permanent seventh inning stretch on Robinson.... Ok, no more baseball puns. 

Jackie Robinson is arguably one of the greatest baseball players of all time, and easily remains the most influential. The first African American Major League player, his story seems destined for the cinema. Director Brian Helegand fuels Robinson's story with electrifying passion, reminding viewers of what it means to be a true hero.

Despite valiant fighting in World War II, African Americans returned from the war to find their country just as racist as before. Though some aspects of American life begins to integrate, the sport of baseball remains one of racism's most fueling enterprises. The Brooklyn Dodger's team executive, Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford), seeks to bring a change to baseball by adding the first Major League African American player to the team. He faces strong opposition in the search to find the right athlete for the job. Eventually, he comes across Jackie Robinson (Chadwick Boseman), a talented baseball star in the African American league.

Robinson has the talent, but his temper against racist America makes Rickey concerned. In exchange for a chance for a spot on the Brooklyn Dodgers, Robinson promises to hold his anger against the prejudice that is almost guaranteed to follow him. He signs for the Minor League Montreal Royals, where he quickly proves his quality against his white teammates and rivals. However, the path of racism proves a difficult challenge for Robinson. But with his wife Rachel (Nicole Beharie) and Rickey as encouragement, Robinson soon becomes the American icon that fans know him as today.

The actors shine in 42, led by a committed performance from Boseman. He remains a believable fit for Robinson, playing the legend with respect and grace. The supporting players are equally as entertaining, including a brutally racist Phillies' coach (Alan Tudyk) and hard-as-nails Dodgers manager Durocher (Christopher Meloni). Beharie in particular does not dumb down to the annoyance that seems to follow sports film love interests.

However, the real scene stealer is Harrison Ford, who gives his best performance in nearly a decade as Rickey. His strong yet humorous role has a lot of heart, and his journey remains just as interesting as Robinson's. Rickey provides wisdom and optimism when all others fail, making his almost father-like part in Robinson's story a truly touching sentiment. Harrison Ford should not be missed in 42.

Brian Helegand, known for his powerful screenplays in films like L.A. Confidential and Mystic River, strangely slips on the dialogue. It routinely reverts to unrealistic cliched lines, adding unnecessary drama to an already poignant story. The tale of Jackie Robinson remains inspiring enough without the need for extra fluff. Nevertheless, the execution in direction saves Helegand from disappointing.

The cinematography during the baseball sequences is crisp and understated, putting audiences right on the field with Robinson. Viewers can sense both the stress of the pitchers and the assurance of #42, feeling every ball thrown at Robinson during the games.

Never was there as great a baseball player as Jackie Robinson. Baseball fans will appreciate 42's allusions, baseball scenes, and Ford's expert performance. #42 to this day remains the only number retired from baseball, and the film based on the number and the man who wore it tells their story well.

Four out of five stars.

Flashback Friday: Dial M for Murder (Hitchcock, 1954)

Is it possible to commit the perfect murder? If anyone can do it, it's the Master of Suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock. He experiments with this concept in one of his most underrated films. Unlike many of Hitchcock's classics, this 1954 drama plays almost like a stage production, with only one real setting and very few actors. Still, it contains all the elements of a Hitchcock classic: a blonde beauty, a perilous mystery, heart-wrenching suspense, and, of course, a plot revolving around murder. Set your phones, because today on Flashback Friday, we're going to Dial M for Murder.

The biggest threat to cinema in the early 1950's was television. With more and more people buying small screens, the theaters began to see a dip in attendance. Studio owners needed a way to get people to return to the multiplexes, so they drafted directors for a way to differentiate themselves against the television market. A solution was found: three-dimensional (3-D) movies.

A relatively new concept at the time among film technology, 3-D films brought the magic of the movies right into the audience's faces. Basically, the technique involves mounting two cameras so that their lenses are approximatley as far apart as human eyes. Using stereoscopic cameras splits the image among the left camera (the left eye) and the right camera (the right eye). If viewers just look at the screen, the image will appeared blurred. However, when they wear special "3-D glasses", the red left eye and the blue right eye creates the illusion that the image on the screen is clear- and three-dimensional. Because many studios wanted to increase their theater attendance, they made dozens of 3-D motion pictures to compete with the rising TV market. As such, the early 1950's were dubbed "The Golden Age of 3-D".

Alfred Hitchcock was interested in 3-D technology, but had no desire to film with it. His movies, as many put it, were so good that they did not require 3-D. However, Warner Brothers demanded that he use the effect on his next movie, so that audiences would be more encouraged to attend. Hitchcock reluctantly agreed, but sought to make better use of the technology. He wanted to make sure that his next film, Dial M for Murder, was not filled with cheap 3-D effects; rather, he designed a plan to make audiences feel like they were part of the story.

Dial M for Murder asks a very simple question: Is it possible to commit the perfect murder? Tony (Ray Milland) certainly believes so, and comes up with a plan to murder his adulterous wife Margot (Grace Kelly). Margot's lover, Mark (Robert Cummings), is visiting England to attend a conference and see Margot. Tony, knowing of their relationship, sends Margot and Mark out to dinner without him, playing a fool as part of his deception.

Later that evening, Tony secretly meets Swann (Anthony Dawson), a former classmate who Tony blackmails to commit the murder. The plan is complex but efficient: after a series of elaborate lies, Swann will come into Tony and Margot's apartment in the middle of the night. At the sound of Tony's phone call, Swann will strangle and kill Margot. Everything seems to be in order, every variable has been accounted for.

But of course, in typical Hitchcockian fashion, something goes horribly wrong. Tony's adaptation to this change of plans is brilliant, but can he get away clean?

Dial M for Murder hooks viewers in from the beginning; at first, we follow the perspective of Tony, so we understand his point of view and almost sympathize with him. In some ways, we want the murder to be successful. However, as the film progresses, Tony turns from a charming antagonist to a conniving villain. With the appearance of Chief Inspector Hubbard (John Williams), viewers again cling to the law, and hope that justice sees the light of day. Tony is one of Hitchcock's more likable villains, but by the end, his elegant demeanor just comes across as creepy.

The movie takes place within the span of two days, and for the most part only uses Tony and Margot's apartment as a setting. In one of Hitchcock's more intelligent moves, he explains the whole background of the movie within thirty seconds; with simply a facial reaction, a newspaper clipping, and a man exiting a ship, the audience completely understands the story. Where most directors would need precious minutes to do this, the Master of Suspense does it in a few seconds with brilliant style.

The actors are Hitchcock favorites, including Hitchcock blonde Grace Kelly. She was able to capture the director's need for a beautiful, yet capable, ice-cold woman. She also appeared in Rear Window (also 1954, the same year she won an Oscar for The Country Girl) and To Catch a Thief. As many readers know, Alfred Hitchcock makes a cameo in every one of his films. His Dial M for Murder appearance is harder to spot than most; hint: look at the picture closely.

3-D plays a large, yet invisible role in Dial M for Murder. Instead of resorting to cheap, "pop out" gimmicks, Hitchcock uses 3-D the way it should be- as depth enhancement. In other words, he increases the size of the apartment space so that the images come out towards the audience. The depth is increased so that the images in the back of the frame actually seem farther back. Hitchcock designed this style by carefully positioning his camera around objects in the frame. Furniture and stand-still objects, like lamps, are placed in the foreground of the shot so that the characters and actions take place farther back. With the aid of 3-D, the characters seem farther away, like the viewers themselves are actually sitting there with them as part of the action.

Of course, these placements are not the only way that Hitchcock employs the use of 3-D. The famous poster shot of Margot's arm reaching out while being strangled comes to life in 3-D, and viewers can almost touch her hand. Plus, the use of the key coming towards the camera looks even better in 3-D. Other production values that Hitchcock adds include the infamous phone dialing sequence, created by moving a gigantic thumb against a larger-than-life telephone dialer.

While most 3-D movies are annoying to watch, Dial M for Murder does not compromise it's story or characters in favor of special effects. It is suspenseful, addictive, and fun to figure out. Filled with an assortment of nuances and classic movie moments, Dial M for Murder may not be regarded as one of Hitchcock's best works, but it certainly remains a cinematic gem worthy of the Master's name.

Aspiring murderers should definitely check this one out.

The King of Movie Critics: Roger Ebert 1942-2013

No other film critic in the history of cinema has ever had more respect, influence, or passion for the movie industry than Roger Ebert. He single-handedly decided the fate of a movie's success, and helped to propel the independent film movement to the foreground. His show At the Movies, along with late partner Gene Siskel, redefined how people evaluate films. The best part?

He could do all this with just the flick of his thumb. 

As an aspiring film critic, I have known of Roger Ebert my whole life. I can't remember a time when I have not heard his trademarked "Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down" review system, whether in movie trailers or on the cover of VHS and DVD boxes. The older I get, the more I realize how important his single review is to a film. When people see his name attached to a positive review, they know that the movie will be good. He remains to this day the only be-all-end-all to film criticism. 

Ebert was the first film critic to ever win a Pulitzer Prize, after only a few years in the review business. His family included Chaz Ebert, his loving wife and partner. He wrote for the Chicago Sun-Times until the day of his passing, after over forty years of working in his home city. But Roger Ebert will be most remembered for his famous At the Movies television series, which he co-hosted along with his longtime friend and collaborator Gene Siskel. It was here that people latched on to the famous "Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down" technique, simplifying yet elegantly expressing exactly how the critics felt about the film. 

Watching Ebert and Siskel banter and discuss various films was an exciting program, and encouraged discussion about the movie industry. After Siskel's sad departure in 1999, At the Movies experienced a brief hiatus until Roger Ebert selected his new co-host, Richard Roeper. The show continued it's success until Ebert was diagnosed with cancer in 2007. 

Most people would have given up after such turmoil, but Ebert saw it as an opportunity: his talents in writing allowed him to share his thoughts through the written word, and as such he continued reviewing movies and sharing his opinions. His writing style was so beautiful, so graceful, that every thought seemed to flow perfectly onto the page. People always knew from the choice of words how a review would turn out, and he had such a magnificent way of making his opinion known without being harsh or overly generous. Most writers only dream of writing like this, but Roger Ebert managed to do it with each and every review, blog post, or commentary. 

And Ebert was no stranger to the film business, either. He wrote several screenplays, most notably Beyond the Valley of Dolls, and is a well respected voice among filmmakers. Several actors, including Samuel L. Jackson, Patton Oswalt, and Albert Brooks, always took his criticisms fairly. They, like so many others, knew that Ebert was always fair, truthful, and knowledgeable.

Ebert's passions for film went beyond that of any other writer. He wrote several reviews and books about various figures in the business, including a biography on Martin Scorsese. His best essays have been compiled into three volumes of what he considers "Great Movies". Each essay has something original and provocative to say about the greatest movies of all time. 

A noted critic of both the corruption within Hollywood and the Academy Awards, Ebert's passion for cinema transcended his own personal thoughts. He routinely commentated the Oscars and big film premieres. He also ranked each year's best films, ranging from 1967's Bonnie and Clyde to 2012's Argo. 

As for his list of the greatest films of all time, Ebert hated ranking movies. He thought the practice was silly and unnecessary. In fact, he was known to sometimes place his year-end bests in alphabetical order, so that he did not have to personally rank them. He always voted in Sight and Sound's Greatest Films of All Time, which was a ranked list every ten years of the best films ever made. His latest Top Ten Movies list, which was released in 2012, is his picks for his favorite movies (in alphabetical order). I remember falling in love with this list, and was highly fascinated by his choices. 

To honor his memory and cinematic preferences, here they are, with a link to his commentary on the list:

Aguirre, Wrath of God (Herzog)

Apocalypse Now (Coppola)

Citizen Kane (Welles)

La Dolce Vita (Fellini)

The General (Keaton)

Raging Bull (Scorsese)

2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick)

Tokyo Story (Ozu)

The Tree of Life (Malick)

Vertigo (Hitchcock)

Cancer sadly took the best of Ebert, and he died on Thursday, April 4. The day before, he wrote his final blog post (link), about how he will still be heavily involved with both readers and movies. He spoke of finally getting to achieve every film critic's dream: only reviewing the films he wanted to review. He said he was only taking a "leave of presence". How haunting those words seem now. 

But he is in a better place now, a heaven filled with only the greatest movies and his loving friends. Nearly every critic holds some kind of memory of Ebert, but he will remain in all of our hearts for what he has done for this profession. I loved reading his weekly reviews and blog posts, and will miss having him in my daily readings. His words will always have an impact on my writing. So for Roger Ebert, we give four out of four stars, two big thumbs up, and our eternal gratitude. 

Goodbye, Mr. Ebert. Rest in peace. We'll see you at the movies.  

"I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn't always know this, and am happy I lived long enough to find it out." 

TV Show Adaptations of Movies: Are They Really Necessary?

Today's television line-up is filled with a very narrow selection of genres, including crime shows (CSI's, NCIS's), raunchy comedies (Family Guy, The Simpsons), sitcoms (The Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men), and sci-fi/fantasy shows (Warehouse 13, The Walking Dead). Pay-per-view networks like HBO and Showtime attempt to break up the repetativeness with shows like Game of Thrones and Homeland,  but still fall victim to the popular demand with other various programs. The networks play what they know viewers will watch, and rely on these formulas in order to produce a hit. 

In years past, there was another semi-popular tradition among TV genres: the adaptation of movies. These included shows like Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and several animated spin-offs like Aladdin, Timon & Pumba, and The Mask: The Animated Series. 

There have not been a lot of televised movie treatments lately, but this Spring, not one but two new shows join the prime time schedule. Not only that, but each of the two series is based on wildly successful horror films (and, coincidently, on the novels the films were based on). Also, the dual series feature two of the most infamous villains in motion picture history. 

The two shows: Bates Motel (A&E) and Hannibal (NBC). 

Why are shows like these necessary for television? Fascination with the lead characters is natural in the film world, as they spark viewer's imaginations about the events in the story. In addition, as they are adaptations of horror films, how are people honestly supposed to be scared of the central characters if they know what's going to happen to them? 

SPOILER ALERT: If you have not seen Psycho or The Silence of the Lambs, I highly recommend that you not read the remainder of this post. 

Bates Motel is the prequel to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, telling the story of Norma and Norman Bates when they initially purchase the Bates Motel. Norma, played with intensity by Vera Farmiga, is an overprotective mother, but Freddie Highmore's kid-next-door Norman is not exactly an average kid himself. Amidst several subplots and murders, the show attempts to explain why Norman goes off his rocker in Psycho. 

Psycho remains famous for it's ingenious plot twist; if viewers knew nothing of the story before they saw it, they would have no idea that Norman Bates is actually the mother and killer. Norman remains one of cinema's best bad guys because he is so sudden and so subtle, recognizable and almost sympathetic in the viewer's eyes. In fact, the best thrills of the movie come because we know nothing of the character's past. The viewer's fascination is heightened when they have the chance to make up their own reasons for why Norman is insane. Ultimately, the best possible scenario for a movie is when those who saw it discuss it endlessly, and Psycho is certainly no exception; however, Bates Motel ruins this use of viewer's imaginations by literally telling them exactly what happened. It's an unnecessary adaptation that has Alfred Hitchcock rolling in his grave.  

On the other hand, Hannibal is a little bit more kind to fans of the character. It is the tale of Red Dragon's Will Graham (played by Hugh Dancy), who has an innate talent for hunting serial killers. Lawrence Fishbourne also stars as FBI captain Jack Crawford, who orders Graham to see a psychiatrist- namely, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, with Mads Mikkelsen taking over the Anthony Hopkins role. Supposedly (the series premieres on Thursday), only the audience knows of Lecter's villainy, as the show makes no hint of his true nature. Other than these two character's interactions, Hannibal is otherwise just an average crime show, NBC's answer to brutal gore-fests like Criminal Minds. 

Hannibal Lecter is one of cinema's favorite characters, landing on several "Best Of" lists and claiming the title of AFI's  #1 Villain of All Time. Anthony Hopkins remains legendary because of his portrayal of this psychopathic doctor. Even though Mads Mikkelsen plays an impressive bad guy, why NBC would choose to cast anyone other than Hopkins is a minor insult to cinephiles. Besides that, like Bates Motel, audiences know the fate of both Hannibal and Will Graham, so the mystery is all but gone. Another pervasive issue remains the reason that Hannibal (Scott, 2001) failed to impress; Lecter is best when in a cage, as imprisoned he has almost animal-like monstrosity. By letting him out into the open, like he is in the TV show, he loses some of the thrill. Perhaps the crime show aspect will help keep audience attention, but the irrelevancy of the program is just too hard to ignore. 

Maybe these shows are good as stand-alone entertainment; both Bates Motel and Hannibal are receiving positive reviews, for acting and story quality. Shows like these sometimes succeed solely because of the strength of the characters. Though Bates Motel remains an episodic soap opera, Hannibal is a crime show, and each genre has their own loyal niche fan base. And it's not like all TV adaptations of films are bad; in fact, M*A*S*H and Highlander: The Series are arguably improvements over their source films. 

But then, in the same respect, MASH nor Highlander hold a candle to the classic qualities of Psycho and The Silence of the Lambs. Film to TV adaptations have yet to prove themselves, and they are especially unnecessary for the best that cinema has to offer. Instead, viewers should check out the movies. They will get more out of each. Plus, they will be done within two hours, not the thirteen-hour plus runtime of television seasons (which usually end up getting nowhere anyways). 

Fans of Psycho and The Silence of the Lambs will respond one of two ways to Bates Motel and Hannibal: excitement at seeing their favorite characters on the screen in new adventures, or terrible regret that someone had the nerve to mess with their movie icons. Either way, the two shows are in for an interesting challenge.