{"id":122154,"date":"2025-04-20T14:58:18","date_gmt":"2025-04-20T14:58:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/the-studio-and-the-decline-of-film-moguls\/"},"modified":"2025-04-20T14:58:18","modified_gmt":"2025-04-20T14:58:18","slug":"the-studio-and-the-decline-of-film-moguls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/the-studio-and-the-decline-of-film-moguls\/","title":{"rendered":"‘The Studio’ and the Decline of Film Moguls"},"content":{"rendered":"

What character does Seth Rogen play in Apple TV+\u2019s The Studio, and what challenges does he face running Continental Pictures? How does the series reflect the current state of the motion picture industry in the age of streaming? In what ways has Hollywood historically portrayed studio bosses in film? Who was the original American motion picture producer, and what contribution did he make to filmmaking? How have depictions of producers evolved from early film to the postwar era?<\/strong><\/p>\n

In Apple TV+\u2019s The Studio<\/em>, Seth Rogen plays Matt Remick, a studio boss just appointed to run the apparently fictional Continental Pictures. Fueled by hyperkinetic camerawork and dialogue that name-checks the celebrities who are not actually dragooned into making cameos, the series promises an under-the-hood look at the sputtering engine of the motion picture industry in the age of streaming. Judging by the first episodes, Matt is not, in the oft-quoted phrase of F. Scott Fitzgerald, among the select handful of man who have been able \u201cto keep the whole equation of pictures in their heads.\u201d In fact, he has trouble with the basic arithmetic. <\/p>\n

Hollywood cinema has ever been a medium of self-reflexivity, mining its own art and business for story material, so the latest depiction of above-the-line talent \u2014 oddly, there is a paucity of films about gaffers, best boys, or foley artists \u2014 is part of a venerable tradition.<\/p>\n

How venerable? In 1896, Thomas Edison, the original American motion picture producer, in all senses of the word, collaborated with the illustrator J. Stuart Blackton for a brief vignette entitled Blackton, the Evening World Cartoonist<\/em>. The film shows Blackton sketching a portrait of Edison as filmed by the Edison Manufacturing Company.<\/p>\n

Edison aside, the studio boss has mainly been a tangential character in the self-caressing film \u00e1 clef<\/em> genre (also known as \u201cinside-Hollywood\u201d or \u201cHollywood on Hollywood\u201d films). It reserves most of the close-ups for stars being born (or flaming out) and directors who serve as surrogates for the last name in the opening credits. Screenwriters, who were treated by the front office as the disposable help, got a measure of revenge by portraying their employers as idiots or vulgarians whose sole role in filmmaking was to write the checks and gum up the works. The producer in Sullivan\u2019s Travels<\/em> (1941) wants the idealistic director to keep churning out variations on Ants in Your Pants of 1938<\/em>, the producer in Sunset Blvd.<\/em> (1950) recalls turning down Gone With the Wind<\/em> (1939) because the public didn\u2019t like Civil War pictures, and the producer in Singin\u2019 in the Rain<\/em> (1952) thinks The Jazz Singer<\/em> (1927) is a passing fad.<\/p>\n

The first portals into the world behind the studio gates were fan magazines and gossip columns, but the movies themselves soon offered a crash course into the means of production. In 1915, Universal Pictures founder Carl Laemmle opened Universal City to tour groups and followed up with the two-reel comedy A Day at Universal City<\/em> (1915). Billed as \u201ca surprisingly funny sketch of life in a motion picture studio,\u201d it showed producer-director Al Christie supervising the scenario department, filming, editing, lab work, and screenings.<\/p>\n

By the 1920s, moviegoers had already become well-schooled in how the sausage got made on the factory floor. In King Vidor\u2019s Show People<\/em> (1928), the delightful Marion Davies sends up Hollywood \u2014 and her own persona \u2014 with the assurance that audiences understood the no-longer-inside jokes, spotted the cameos, and laughed at how the feckless leading man takes credit for the exploits of his stunt double. Of course, Davies had a studio boss in her pocket, media mogul and Cosmopolitan Pictures producer William Randolph Hearst, for whom she was much more than a side chick. The best cameo in the film is Davies\u2019s own: when the character spots Marion Davies on the lot, she crunches up her face as if to say, \u201cshe\u2019s not so hot.\u201d<\/p>\n

The studio boss is the featured player in a forgotten obscurity by director Mark Sandrich, The Talk of Hollywood<\/em> (1929), an early talkie shot with the camera bolted to the floor. Nat Carr, a comedian who was a mainstay of Hebrew-Hibernian shtick in films such as Koster Kitty Kelly<\/em> (1926) and Private Izzy Murphy<\/em> (1926), plays the shtetl-bred J. Pierpoint Ginsberg, a silent film producer who must make the transition into the talkies. Problems does he have? Don\u2019t ask. \u201cI asked you for a chorus of sixty,\u201d he kvetches to his casting director. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean that\u2019s how old they should be!\u201d<\/p>\n

The ethnic stereotype was dialed back in George Cukor\u2019s What Price Hollywood?<\/em> (1932), produced by David O. Selznick, who should know. The backstage, rather soundstage, melodrama was not so much an expos\u00e9 of the town under the real estate sign but a review session of lessons already learned. Star Constance Bennett plays a starstruck waitress at the Brown Derby who moons over Gable and imitates Garbo before finding herself on the cover of the fan mags she lives by. Her narrative arc from bit player to name in lights coincides with a deep dive into Hollywood\u2019s star-making machinery: ad-pub boys, gossip columnists, proto-paparazzi, and gala premieres. Russian-born Gregory Ratoff plays Bennett\u2019s kind-hearted, Yiddish-accented studio chief, a type who, said Variety<\/em> at the time, \u201cis closer to some film producers in his portrayal than the average audience will realize.\u201d<\/p>\n

In 1941, two novels by two Hollywood screenwriters placed the producer front and center in the Hollywood story: the unfinished, posthumously published The Last Tycoon<\/em> by F. Scott Fitzgerald and What Makes Sammy Run<\/em> by Budd Schulberg. As the son of B. P. Schulberg, the longtime head of production at Paramount Pictures, Schulberg boasted impeccable inside dopester credentials. The anti-hero of his book is Sammy Glick, a venal go-getter who leapfrogs from copy boy to agent to producer by stealing credit and backstabbing friends. \u201cSuch things ARE in Hollywood and Budd reports them with fine detachment,\u201d wrote Fitzgerald, generously praising the competition in a letter to Bennett Cerf, Schulberg\u2019s editor at Random House.<\/p>\n

Everyone in Hollywood figured Glick was based on the outsized personality and (allegedly) unscrupulous behavior of screenwriter turned producer Jerry Wald. Not that Wald was the only candidate whose mercenary modus operandi fit the character. At The Hollywood Reporter<\/em>, Irving Hoffman pointed out that \u201cit is not entirely fair to identify Sammy with Jerry to the exclusion of at least half a dozen other possibilities.\u201d Schulberg always said Sammy was a composite, which didn\u2019t stop producers he had never met from glaring at him in restaurants.<\/p>\n

The hero \u2014 not antihero \u2014 of The Last Tycoon<\/em> is Monroe Stahr, a thinly disguised stand-in for MGM\u2019s Irving Thalberg, the \u201cboy genius\u201d who was running Universal Studios at age 20 when he was still too young to sign the company\u2019s payroll checks. Hired away by Louis B. Mayer for MGM, he became the presiding genius of \u201cthe genius of the system,\u201d the name the French gave to the assembly-line quality control maintained by the Hollywood studios. In 1936, when he died suddenly at the age of 36, the industry-wide shock was seismic. \u201cHollywood in Gloom,\u201d headlined the Reporter<\/em>. \u201cDeath of Thalberg Sinks Industry; All Mourn Passing of Great Producer.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was Thalberg who inspired Fitzgerald\u2019s \u201cwhole equation\u201d panegyric and planted the seed for The Last Tycoon<\/em>. In 1939, writing to an editor at Collier\u2019s<\/em>, Fitzgerald confided that Stahr \u201cis Irving Thalberg \u2014 and this is my great secret.\u201d The secret seems to have been well kept for neither the trade reviews nor Edmund Wilson in his introduction to The Last Tycoon<\/em> mentions the obvious model. Tellingly, at the time, no Hollywood studio green-lighted either What Makes Sammy Run<\/em> or The Last Tycoon<\/em> for feature film treatment. It was left to the emergent rival medium to adapt both books in 1949 for live performances on NBC\u2019s Philco Television Playhouse<\/em>.<\/p>\n

The threat from television was probably behind the surge of Hollywood-minded films in the postwar era, as if the motion picture industry wanted to remind the public that the real glamour and art was still up on the big screen in films such as Sunset Blvd.<\/em>, Singin\u2019 in the Rain<\/em>, The Star<\/em> (1952), A Star Is Born<\/em> (1954), and The Big Knife<\/em> (1955). \u201cProducers used to think that a film with a Hollywood background meant a kiss of death,\u201d wrote gossip columnist Hedda Hopper, noting the vibe shift. Traditionally too, the old guard had been wary of airing its dirty linen at the corner Bijou. After a screening of Sunset Blvd.<\/em>, on the Paramount lot, MGM chief Louis B. Mayer confronted Billy Wilder. \u201cYou bastard,\u201d he shouted. \u201cYou should be tarred and feathered and run out of Hollywood!\u201d<\/p>\n

Actually, it was Mayer who was run out of Hollywood in 1951, ousted for younger blood, his right-hand man Dore Schary, the personification of a new generation of more urbane and erudite studio bosses. Under Schary, MGM released what may be the best of the producer-centered dissections of Hollywood life, The Bad and the Beautiful<\/em> (1952), a whiplash smart corporate melodrama directed by Vincente Minnelli and written by Charles Schnee and George Bradshaw. Told in flashback, the film traces the progress of producer Jonathan Shields (Kirk Douglas) from B-movie dreck to A-list Oscar winners to box office flops. Desperate for a fresh start, he calls together three former collaborators, all of whom he has mentored and betrayed: a director (Barry Sullivan), a star (Lana Turner), and a screenwriter (Dick Powell). \u201cSome of the best movies are made by people working together who hate each other\u2019s guts,\u201d he figures. Douglas \u2014 never better than when he was playing a heel (see also Champion<\/em> [1949] and Ace in the Hole<\/em> [1951]) \u2014 has a terrific time as the conniving, charismatic SOB with the scruples of Sammy Glick and the talent of Irving Thalberg. After a preview screening, Lana Turner sent Douglas a telegram he must have treasured: \u201cI Wasn\u2019t Bad and You Were Beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n

Naturally, \u201cthe town is buzzing over the identity of the producer in Metro\u2019s The Bad and the Beautiful<\/em>,\u201d whispered gossip columnist Sheila Graham, who didn\u2019t name her suspect. I always figured Shields was based on Twentieth Century-Fox\u2019s ruthless and brilliant Darryl F. Zanuck, but the actual producer of the film \u2014 John Houseman \u2014 revealed in his memoir Front and Center<\/em>, published in 1979, that \u201cthere is no question that substantial elements of David O. Selznick\u2019s personality are to be found in our hero-villain Jonathan Shields.\u201d He also said Selznick hired a lawyer to look at the film to see if there was anything actionable. There wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

In tune with the times, the 1960s nurtured a raw and cynical perspective on Hollywood that made Sunset Blvd.<\/em> look like a valentine. Richard Rouse\u2019s hate letter The Oscar<\/em> (1966), which was nominated for none, stars Stephen Boyd as a Sammy Glick-ish actor who uses and abuses cast, crew, agent, and girlfriends. New York Times<\/em> critic Bosley Crowther panned it as \u201canother distressing example of Hollywood befouling its own nest,\u201d but producer Rouse defended his cutthroat take on the business, claiming that at screenings in Los Angeles \u201cthe Hollywood people in the audience gave an almost audible gasp at the truth of what they were seeing.\u201d Maybe not coincidentally, the nicest guy in the vipers\u2019 nest is the producer played by Joseph Cotton. No wonder the actresses in Valley of the Dolls<\/em> (1967) zone out on drugs.<\/p>\n

In the 1970s, the most memorable portrait of a producer is the mogul played by John Marley in The Godfather<\/em> (1972) who wakes up next to a horse\u2019s head by way of incentive to reconsider a casting decision. However, the decade also witnessed, finally, a screen version of The Last Tycoon<\/em>, produced by Sam Spiegel (who also fit the title), directed by Elia Kazan, written by Harold Pinter, and starring a sleek Robert De Niro as Stahr.<\/p>\n

Drunken screenwriters, actors struggling with erectile dysfunction, earthquakes on the backlot \u2014 it\u2019s all in a day\u2019s work for Stahr. Watching a slate of dailies, he makes snap decisions on which take to print and which scene to delete. Before getting sunk by a turgid love story \u2014 the kind of cinematic dead zone Thalberg would have blue-penciled in the screenplay stage \u2014 The Last Tycoon<\/em> provides a good sense of what a producer actually does. In THR<\/em>, Ron Pennington described Stahr as \u201can Irving Thalberg-type producer who never took screen credit but who was truly an artist in that he had the ability to create by effectively combining the various talents of other artists,\u201d which is as good a definition of the producer-as-auteur as Fitzgerald\u2019s \u201cthe whole equation.\u201d (Film critic Kenneth Turan nicked the phrase for his splendid dual biography, Louis B. Mayer and Irving Thalberg: The Whole Equation<\/em>, published earlier this year.)<\/p>\n

As the last century came to a close, studio bosses and aspiring studio bosses alike were often portrayed as ready to kill for a bankable film project. In writer-producer Michael Tolkin and Robert Altman\u2019s The Player<\/em> (1992), studio executive Griffin Mill (Tim Robbins) takes time out from the joys of ordering \u201coff the menu\u201d at four-star restaurants to murder a screenwriter to secure a desirable property. In Get Shorty<\/em> (1995), all the gangsters want to make a lateral career move into film production by packaging a sure-fire project. The winner of the Hollywood sweepstakes is film buff and loan shark muscle Chili Palmer (John Travolta), who knows the difference between Rio Bravo<\/em> (1959) and El Dorado<\/em> (1966).<\/p>\n

If any film can bring the studio boss cycle full circle, it is Nanette Burstein and Brett Morgan\u2019s bio-doc The Kid Stays in the Picture<\/em> (2002). Based on Robert Evans\u2019 1994 memoir and narrated by the man himself, the film tells of the last, so far, of the old school, hands-on Hollywood producers, who oversaw the second golden age of Paramount Pictures from 1967 and 1974. The first act includes a Hollywood original story so unlikely that no screenwriter would dare pitch it to a producer. While sunbathing at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the actress Norma Shearer noticed an attractive young man at poolside talking on a telephone. His intense energy reminded her of her late husband \u2014 Irving Thalberg. She insisted Evans be cast as Thalberg in the Lon Chaney biopic Man of a Thousand Faces<\/em> (1957). Not a star but a producer was born.<\/p>\n

The Studio and the Twilight of Movie Tycoons<\/h2>\n

As the sun sets on the era of traditional movie tycoons, we find ourselves in a landscape that has undergone a transformative evolution. The studio, once the bastion of power in Hollywood, sits at the heart of this transition. The glitz of the silver screen and the towering figures who masterminded box office victories have been replaced by a new generation of storytellers, digital platforms, and changing consumer habits. As we explore the changing dynamics of the film industry, we delve into the legacy of the movie tycoon and the rise of the studio as a collaborative creative hub.<\/p>\n

The Golden Age of Movie Tycoons<\/h3>\n

To understand the twilight of movie tycoons, we must first reflect on their heyday. The golden age of cinema, from the 1920s to the 1950s, saw the emergence of larger-than-life figures such as Louis B. Mayer, David O. Selznick, and Sam Goldwyn. These moguls weren\u2019t just influential businesspeople; they were the architects of Hollywood. They controlled every facet of production, from script development to casting, and their imprint on the industry was indelible.<\/p>\n

During this period, studios operated under a system known as vertical integration, where everything from production to distribution was housed within one entity. The big five studios\u2014MGM, Warner Bros., 20th Century Fox, Paramount, and Columbia\u2014dominated the Hollywood landscape, ushering iconic films that would define generations. These tycoons cultivated unique styles, crafted star systems, and turned filmmaking into a substantial financial enterprise.<\/p>\n

The Rise of Decentralization<\/h3>\n

As the late 20th century ushered in new technologies and cultural shifts, the monopoly held by these movie tycoons began to erode. The advent of new distribution methods\u2014cable television, home video, and later, streaming services\u2014transformed the relationship between filmmakers and consumers. The ability for smaller production companies and independent filmmakers to gain visibility changed the playing field. No longer did success hinge on the backing of a powerful studio head; instead, creativity and originality became the calling cards that could attract audiences.<\/p>\n

With the rise of indie films in the 1990s and early 2000s, the studio model began to decentralize. Disruption became the norm, and the traditional notions of what a studio film should be were redefined. Directors like Quentin Tarantino and writers like Charlie Kaufman found success outside mainstream parameters, showcasing unique storytelling without the weight of a studio head\u2019s interference. <\/p>\n

The Digital Transformation<\/h3>\n

Today\u2019s digital transformation has accelerated the decline of traditional movie tycoons. Streaming platforms such as Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Disney+ have not only disrupted the distribution model but have also taken the reins of content creation. These platforms offer greater creative freedom, bypassing the rigid structures typically enforced by traditional studios. Showrunners and creators are now seen as significant stakeholders in productions, wielding a level of influence that was historically reserved for studio heads.<\/p>\n

Moreover, the pandemic-induced shift to home viewing has fundamentally altered how audiences consume content. The transition from theatrical releases to premium video-on-demand (PVOD) has shifted box office dynamics, leading studios to rethink their traditional release strategies. The success of films that premiere directly on streaming platforms, like \u201cThe Trial of the Chicago 7\u201d and \u201cThe Irishman,\u201d has showcased that audiences are willing to embrace alternative avenues of consumption.<\/p>\n

The Studio as a Collaborative Hub<\/h3>\n

In the twilight of the traditional movie tycoon, the studio has evolved into a collaborative hub. No longer characterized solely by the vision of a singular leader, studios are now more attuned to the nuances of audience preferences, cultural trends, and innovative storytelling. This shift paves the way for more diverse voices within the industry to be heard, bringing audiences a buffet of narratives that reflect a broader spectrum of experiences.<\/p>\n

The evolution of studios into collaborative creative spaces means that film production can be more democratic. Writers, directors, and producers work together, drawing on each other’s strengths while also leveraging the expansive data available about viewer habits and preferences. The emphasis now falls on producing content that resonates with an increasingly sophisticated audience, rather than solely relying on celebrity-star power.<\/p>\n

Conclusion<\/h3>\n

As we navigate through the twilight of the movie tycoon, we witness a reimagined studio system that champions collaboration over hierarchy, creativity over singular vision, and flexibility over rigidity. The cinematic landscape will continue to shift, driven by innovation and the ever-evolving preferences of audiences. While the once-mighty tycoons of Hollywood fade into the annals of history, they leave behind a legacy that shaped the industry into what it is today\u2014a more inclusive, diverse, and dynamic arena primed for the voices of tomorrow.<\/p>\n

The studio, now in its new avatar, holds the potential to lead cinema into uncharted territories of storytelling, ensuring that while the tycoons may have left the stage, the story of film continues to unfold, rich with possibilities and creativity.<\/p>\n

Certainly! \u201cThe Studio\u201d offers a deep dive into the shifts within the film industry, particularly focusing on the influence of major movie tycoons and how their reign has evolved. The narrative paints a vivid picture of the golden age of cinema, marked by powerful personalities who shaped the landscape of filmmaking.<\/p>\n

As we traverse through the chapters, we see how these movie moguls, once the unquestioned kings of Hollywood, navigated the complexities of changing audience preferences, technological advancements, and the rise of new media. Their strategies and creative decisions not only influenced the types of films produced but also the very structure of the industry itself.<\/p>\n

The emergence of streaming services and digital platforms has disrupted traditional distribution models, leading to a paradigm shift where content is king. This transformation raises questions about the future of cinemas, the role of the director, and how stories are told.<\/p>\n

Throughout the text, various case studies illustrate the rise and fall of certain studios and individuals, providing insights into their successes and failures. This reflective analysis highlights the importance of adaptability in a rapidly changing environment, positioning the reader to consider what lies ahead for the future of filmmaking and storytelling.<\/p>\n

Ultimately, the narrative serves as a reminder of the delicate balance between creativity and commerce, emphasizing that while studios may evolve, the fundamental love for storytelling remains at the heart of cinema. The journey through “The Studio” leaves readers contemplating the enduring power of film in shaping culture and societal narratives.<\/p>\n

Tm-En-6<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

What character does Seth Rogen play in Apple TV+\u2019s The Studio, and what challenges does he face running Continental Pictures? How does the series reflect the current state of the motion picture industry in the age of streaming? In what ways has Hollywood historically portrayed studio bosses in film? Who was the original American motion […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":110274,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[2612,1759,31023,4450],"class_list":["post-122154","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mazagine","tag-decline","tag-film","tag-moguls","tag-studio"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/122154","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=122154"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/122154\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/110274"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=122154"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=122154"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknomers.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=122154"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}