On Thursday, March 18, HBOMax (and by extension, Warner Brothers) released the “Snyder Cut” – writer-director Zack Snyder’s recut version of Warner Brother’s 2017 disappointment Justice League, the culmination of a years-long campaign by a very vocal segment of the internet who hated the original version of the film and demanded that the studio allow Snyder the opportunity to revisit the film and bring it in line with his original vision – before he had to leave it in the hands of Joss Whedon.* Now, I absolutely agree that the original cut of Justice League was bad, but was the right response giving into fans (in this case, a vocal minority who spent a lot of energy complaining constantly on social media) and allowing a second bite at the apple as a means to appease those who yelled the loudest (or, at least giving the appearance of doing so, even if the decision was considered in the WB’s best interests)? Well, Zack Snyder’s Justice League was, on the whole, better than its predecessor, but that was a pretty low bar to clear. And the release of the film certainly dominated the zeitgeist throughout the weekend. But what does it mean for Hollywood that a major film studio appared to give into fans complaints, provided tens of millions of dollars (the reported figure provided to Snyder for the recut was $70 million), and was willing to essentially scrap a film that they spent an exorbitant sum of money to create, promote, and release?
*Snyder stepped away from the original film during post-production following the death of his daughter, and Whedon stepped into the role of director and promptly rewrote, re-shot, and re-cut most of the film – reportedly at the request of Warner Brothers, who had decided the film needed to be shorter and lighter. The resulting version clocked in at under two hours, in contrast to the four hour long opus of the Snyder Cut.
The ultimate goal of every piece of popular media, whether a film, play, or television series, is to find a receptive audience, gain popularity, and make its creators money in the process.* Occasionally, a creative team and studio get lucky and achieve all three – and the rare unicorn production also gets critical acclaim to go with it. There’s a vested interest in keeping a fanbase happy, as it ensures they will continue to tune in week after week or year after year. But there’s also a need to cultivate new fans for a continuing project. Yes, there are a number of stories heralding how a small group of vocal fans saved a TV show from cancellation (see Chuck on NBC – although that get out of cancellation free card was won through an influx of cash spent at Subway more than just a vocal group of fans begging for a reprieve) or even brought it back from the dead (see the original Star Trek, a series that wasn’t a ratings hit at any point in its life, but a show that gained fans following its cancellation while airing in reruns, proving there was a growing audience for the series in the end). But those are instances where a fanbase used its collective power to save something they loved from disappearing from the media landscape. What we’ve seen of late, with the advent of social media, is a growing insistence among fans that writers, directors, studios, and even actors should be hired, fired, and acquiesce to the wants of increasingly toxic fanbases – and with the Snyder Cut, its been shown that if you complain enough, you can get results. And that’s a terrifying prospect for the future of film and television.
*As often as creative teams and studio heads claim they are “doing it for the fans,” let’s be real here: Cash is king. It’s all well and good to create a production that garners a loyal fanbase, but if there aren’t enough fans at the outset or that group of fans doesn’t continue to grow, that’s a recipe for the cancellation of a series. The Marvel Cinematic Universe only continues to churn out film after film (and now TV series after TV series) because it’s a cash cow for Marvel and Disney. If Iron Man had bombed way back in 2008, do you think Marvel would have kept at it in an attempt to create their massive, sprawling world? Probably not. Or, at least not with Iron Man as their lynch-pin hero.
Now, I’m not suggesting that fans shouldn’t complain when they don’t love an episode or a film – they have every right to express their opinion. When it becomes troubling is when that complaint morphs into a sense of entitlement on behalf of the fanbase. It’s the belief that since they are the ones shelling out money to see a film in a theater or spending time watching a TV series, they should have a say in what happens with a story. If they are angry at who was cast in a blockbuster film, well, the studio should listen to that complaint and take action to rectify it. If they don’t like how a film was written, well, they should be able to complain to the studio and get a redo – or, if that’s not possible, the studio should mandate that the writer, director, actor or character they didn’t like be sidelined in the sequel. And if they hated the film they were given, and there is evidence that the original writer-director’s version would have been better (even though there was no way to determine that, just the word of that writer-director), the studio should spend the time and money to make sure that this version is delivered to the fanbase. If they kick up enough of a stick then the studio will have to make changes – or else they will bombard IMDB or Rotten Tomatoes with negative reviews (even if the film or series hasn’t premiered yet) and attempt to color those not involved in the demands against the production.
And it’s not just the fans who are responsible for these campaigns – the filmmakers themselves are getting in on the game. From Snyder giving interviews stressing that the Justice League film released in 2017 wasn’t close to his vision to director Justin Trank tweeting that the version of Fantastic Four released under his name in 2015 wasn’t the version he wanted to make (Trank has since walked back claims that he has a better cut and asked fans to stop campaigning for its release), this sort of thing only helps stir up the fanbase and put pressure on studios to give in to these ridiculous demands. And that’s what they are: ridiculous demands.
Here’s the truth of the matter: Sometimes, movies and TV shows are bad. It happens. Sometimes writers get it wrong and directors don’t get to present their vision to the world.* And sometimes the film or show that gets made isn’t the precise story fans want to see. But that’s the brilliance of filmmaking, and what sets it apart from other mediums: You get what you get. And sure, TV shows are in a slightly better situation than films in that if a character isn’t working or a storyline doesn’t click, the writers usually have the chance to course correct mid-season (in a non-streaming series) or they can fix things in the next season. But letting fans dictate and hold creators and studios hostage with a barrage of angry tweets will only further erode the already far-too-thin line between fans and creator.
*While a studio is the one on the financial hook for a film or TV series, I’m not advocating for studios to be able to flex their muscles and force a writer or director to continually bow down to their demands – the relationship between studio and creative talent depends on having some creative freedoms in place for it to survive and thrive. There are instances where that has happened to detrimental effect (mostly in TV and mostly when it comes to a certain premium cable network allegedly telling showrunners they couldn’t kill off characters when they wanted to) and I certainly think the creative team should have final say in their story, but if a studio doesn’t like a direction a story is heading in, they can always remove the creative team and start over. And we’ve seen how that can lead to Frankenstein’s monster films – namely in the Star Wars realm and with the original Justice League. It’s a delicate balance, and with how financially key large IP films are these days, I suspect it’s something we’ll continue see happening in the years to come – for good and for ill.
And that’s where I think all of this entitlement stems from: The thin line between creator and fans in the age of social media. Studios encourage their talent to engage with fans online. It’s free publicity for the project and it can serve to increase the exposure of their talent and, in turn, the project. Getting fans hyped about a new trailer or an upcoming episode increases engagement with the end product. And when it is a hit with fans, everyone wins. The talent is embraced, the relationship deepens. And that relationship – which, on the whole, is one of necessity for the creative talent and rarely as personal as some fans are led to believe – thrives online. But like I said before about “doing it for the fans” – that’s not nearly as important as making sure the bottom line is met.
But when things go wrong with a production’s receptions? Well, then it turns into a Twitterstorm attacking anyone involved in the project. Since the talent had been engaging with the fans prior to the disappointing outcome, they become the ones who hear the anger and vitriol from the most vocal members of the so-called fanbase. In the worst situations, it drives the talent offline completely. But it gets noticed. And then others who felt the same will pile on. And those who didn’t? Well, they tend to get drowned out by the mob. And then the thinkpieces arrive, asking if the fans were right. Sometimes, if the lead creative has enough good will with the fanbase, they can turn them toward a scapegoat – the network, a studio, critics who didn’t see their vision, maybe even someone else who worked on the project. Then things get really ugly. And the studio is put in the position of either commenting or staying silent and allowing someone else to potentially get blindsided in the melee.
But, with the Snyder Cut, we’ve had our first instance of a studio not only commenting on the outcry from fans, but also giving them exactly what they asked for with their petulant cries: a whole new film. Is this the new norm? Will other studios do the same? Well, personally, I doubt it. Disney has no need to remake the final two films of the most recent Star Wars trilogy (despite fan outcry and a desire to see it happen) because their Star Wars IP continues to thrive (Baby Yoda, anyone?). And the MCU continues to print money for Disney as well. But DC and Warner Brothers were in a much more precarious position. Their DCEU hasn’t achieved the same success as its Marvel counterpart, so I suspect they figured they needed to keep the fans as happy as possible. But throwing money at an already disappointing film likely didn’t save their cinematic universe from continuing to implode. And it will take a lot more than a four hour film from a filmmaker who isn’t set to helm any additional movies in this particular sandbox. So in the end, a group of fans got exactly what they wanted, setting a precedent that other fanbases can use if and when they find themselves in the same situation. And it’s likely only a matter of time before another group decides they deserve the same. The question remains, what will happen then? If it’s another Snyder Cut, well, we all know who we have to thank for this new age in fan service filmmaking.
