I will not wax poetic about the glory days of video stores. How you could go to your local Blockbuster, pick up the latest Lethal Weapon or Jumanji for the fifth time, and just have a good night. No, it wasn’t the utopia that ‘90s nostalgia amps it up to be, but for a certain sect of person, maybe it was. Streaming services have certainly only amplified those voices.
Sure, the selections could be slim, with popular picks getting the prime spot on the shelf. Maybe that tape you were looking for has been checked out for weeks, and then when that tape is finally returned, it’s not even rewound. On the flip side, physical media more or less sticks around, and while the convenience of streaming is nice, the last ten years have shown a dwindling interest from streaming platforms in the curation of classic films. Is this a case of laziness or a sort of gatekeeping?
When I was just getting seriously into film, Netflix readily carried classics from the likes of Buster Keaton and Billy Wilder. This no doubt leads some curious viewers to check out fundamental films such as The General and Some Like it Hot. A platform like this is crucial to the survival of older movies, especially as the streaming giant becomes a force in and of itself. However, since the platform’s shift to producing original content, one is less likely to find anything pre-1970s.
So what about other services like Hulu or Amazon Prime? Though one can readily rent on Amazon, the streaming selections tend to cycle, and the audio/video quality of public domain films can be hit-or-miss. Hulu was once a great alternative but has added advertisements across the board unless one wants to pay more. If not, you can enjoy ads ruining the mood of any film of your choosing.
When it comes to mergers, such as with Hulu, Disney, Paramount, and Showtime, results may vary. They can either expand or minimize access to a wide breadth of titles. Disney+ is starting to implement titles it wouldn’t normally carry, which is great, while Paramount+ requires an up-charge to access Showtime’s library. Max is, without a doubt, the most infamous, causing upticks in price while also placing Lawrence of Arabia next to Dr. Pimple Popper.
This all may seem trivial when excellent services like the Criterion Channel, Mubi, and Kanopy exist, while video stores in major cities thrive on catering to cinephile audiences. The issue comes down to accessibility to a mass audience, who might not be aware that the above services exist or that their local library may carry hundreds of titles in their catalog.
Orson Welles in Citizen Kane (1941)
One question I ask myself while looking for a specific title is “What about digital rentals?” These are the clear antidote to probably any issues I’ve brought up, all with a less than $5 fee. A trend I’ve noticed is the prioritization to put older films behind such walls as potentially an act of preservation. A more realistic reading would have it be due to lack of revenue to just have those movies up with newer and more recognizable titles, but every little thought counts.
I want to set up a plausible scenario: At the Holidays, when families are deciding what to watch, and someone throws out a Christmas classic from the 1940s, it has already got a losing shot among members of the voting family. Add to that a restriction unless money is handed over, and the newest Peacock original, which will probably be forgotten in a month, wins in the end. This modern scenario will happen as long as older films are treated as simply relics instead of gateways to understanding ourselves on a personal and global scale. It is debatable that no other medium, aside from literature, gives as incisive a look into the human condition: Where we come from, where we have been, who we are, and where we are going.
Cinema is inarguably a mass market medium; It was not taken seriously as an art form in its early years, merely seen as entertainment and nothing more. It may seem strange, but perhaps this idea should be brought back in some capacity. It’s easy to see films like Citizen Kane, The Graduate, and On the Waterfront as cinematic homework. By shifting focus and looking at these titles as conduits for messages to the masses, an answer as to why they endure becomes abundantly clear.
This is not even to mention older films by women and people of color, such as Killer of Sheep, El Norte, Chan is Missing, and Daughters of the Dust, all landmarks in the medium and provide windows into worlds outside the mainstream. Instead of putting a price on these classics, big platforms should push them onto their millions of subscribers. It’s not just about ruined date nights and a perceived lack of options but an active obstruction of legacy and culture. While distribution deals and rights are a separate conversation, these mega corporations still have access to MGM, Warner Bros., and Paramount catalogs. They need that extra push to make the classics readily available, even if it means losing some finances. What do they have to lose?
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