The Home Box Office Has Arrived. Now What?

Do you know what HBO stands for?

It's not a secret or anything, although the entertainment juggernaut has grown to such ubiquity within our entertainment ecosystem, that its abbreviated name has become as American as pie.

HBO stands for "Home Box Office." Did that trigger anything in you? An epiphany of any kind? Well, it probably should. As the name suggests, HBO has been in the business of bringing the theater experience to Americans' living rooms since its inception in 1972. The network began with a unique emphasis on the world of sports, bringing live sporting events like the 1975 "Thrilla in Manilla" to the American people. This approach to TV broadcasting did not yet present an obvious threat to other networks, nor did it signal any sort of seismic shift for the film industry. It did, however, establish the objective of the Home Box Office: event television. Broadcasting live sports wasn't revolutionary; NBC had been doing it for years, and ESPN would launch just a few years later in 1979. Still, HBO gave Americans a reason to gather in front of their televisions. Now, sitting down to watch TV could carry all the same excitement found in a trip to your local cinema. As the network began to play marquis films and special concerts, it became clear: the box office had arrived in the comfort of your own home.

The HBO brand has been well-respected within the entertainment world for decades now. It's become nearly synonymous with quality, after all. High-profile filmmakers view it as worthy of their time and attention. As the network shifted its focus from event to prestige television, directors like Robert Altman crafted the famous miniseries Tanner '88 for the network, breathing new life into the now-commonplace television format and gifting Home Box Office a work from an established auteur. By the time networks like AMC had cemented the arrival of prestige television with shows like Mad Men and Breaking Bad, HBO had been there, done that, with shows like Oz, The Wire, and The Sopranos. Their latest show to dominate the entertainment landscape - Game of Thrones - went out with a surprising fizzle and, well, things haven't quite been the same ever since.

That's not to say that HBO has struggled to produce quality entertainment in recent years. One of the network's newest shows - How To With John Wilson - is nothing short of incredible, with inventive editing that makes me wish I had included it in my discussion of creativity in my previous article. I'm also thoroughly enjoying The Flight Attendant, a pulpy murder mystery that is sure to set up a tight Emmy Race between lead actress Kaley Cuoco and The Queen's Gambit's Anya-Taylor Joy. The latter series is an HBO Max original, making it a crucial piece of weaponry in WarnerMedia's attempt to win the arms race for streaming supremacy.

HBO Max is the latest evolution of the Home Box Office. Home Box Office to the max, if you will. I don't know; it's a new streaming service, admittedly a very good one, that has suffered from a laughably bad marketing plan. With HBO branching out into Now, Go, and Max, confusion as to what's what was inevitable. And yet, WarnerMedia trusted Americans to figure it out, nevermind the fact that most of us can't even remember the difference between Amazon Prime and Hulu half the time. The only streaming service that has achieved absolute ubiquity is Netflix. Remember when Disney+ and HBO Max were first announced, and we all thought Netflix's days are numbered? Well, that didn't happen. Netflix has firmly entrenched itself within our cultural zeitgeist; there's no getting rid of it. In a sense, Netflix is television. It may have invited us in by promising us we can rewatch Friends whenever we want, but we're now sticking around for Stranger Things and an endless supply of comedy specials. Netflix has also usurped the film industry to a certain extent, affording massive budgets and unprecedented creative control to legendary directors like Martin Scorsese and Spike Lee. The final products have more or less made Netflix's new role as the center of the entertainment universe worthwhile, but the implications of their omnipotence remain troubling. Netflix planted the seeds for a terrifying overhaul of cinema as we know it. Once Game of Thrones, perhaps the surest thing in entertainment, lost its cultural relevance faster than you can say David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, WarnerMedia decided to bring in some tech bros of their own, and venture into the world of streaming. This newfound approach to entertainment, rooted in a sort of Silicon Valley sensibility, has long foreboded the erosion of one of cinema's - and for that matter, life's - greatest pleasures: the movie theater.

Unsurprisingly, I love the movie theater. So many of us do. Many of us feel there are certain movies - blockbusters and action-heavy spectacles - that are helped by their exhibition on the big screen, but I can assure you, there is not a movie in this world that is not enhanced by experiencing it in the theater. I've watched several of my all-time favorite films throughout quarantine, with nothing but time on my hands. And yet, none of these movie-watching experiences have come close to my memories of the cinema. I have always identified as a sort of patron saint of the movie theater experience. It sounds dramatic, I know, but I've sensed the gradual decay of our societal commitment to the theater for quite some time, and I've always felt a sense of urgency in showing movie theaters the love and dedication that they deserve. Pre-pandemic, I visited the movie theater as frequently as I could. I'd go with friends or alone. It didn't matter. I'd see movies I had been anticipating for months, or I'd see movies I just discovered that same morning. It didn't matter. I'd see movies with packed houses screaming and laughing, or I'd see movies with just two other people (it's always an elderly couple, isn't it?) in the auditorium. It didn't matter.

All that matters is that I am going to the theater, and there's a reason for it that goes well beyond my love for the films projected at theaters all across the country. I treaded similar territory in a piece earlier this year in which I discussed my experience with Christopher Nolan's Tenet. In hindsight, I sort of can't believe I went to see Nolan's latest film amidst a global pandemic. I don't necessarily regret it, as my experience was largely safe (and a lot of fun) but it does seem like a strange blip on the radar of 2020. At the time, it was important to me that I went and saw Tenet. Not just because I wanted to see and support the film, but because I detect a much more existential threat in entertainment conglomerates' willingness to sacrifice our nation's theaters for the sake of profit. There is a thread connecting developments in so many industries across America, and it is one that has only been accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic. As our lives become increasingly digital, our corporations have a vested interest in keeping us as far apart from one another as possible. Sure, there's been a lot of talk in the United States about getting Americans out and about once again, allowing them to shop and eat out and consume like good little Americans do. But leaving the house is no longer a prerequisite for consumption, and there is reason to believe the powers that be actually prefer it that way.

Remember malls? There lies an example of a staple of American culture that is almost surely about to disappear in the wake of COVID-19. Now, I'm not necessarily lamenting the loss of shopping malls, but I, like many Americans, can recall my local shopping mall as a rare communal space in a country that has never encouraged large social gatherings outside of concerts or parades. Of course, malls are communal in how they orient us towards consumerism, but I can look back at my adolescence and fondly recognize entire days spent simply crapping around my local shopping mall for free, perhaps even ending the day in a nearby movie theater. While I do often wish for a national culture that exists independently of our economic infrastructure (imagine finding national camaraderie in a nearby park or plaza?) I still can appreciate malls for providing a rare service in the United States. I find American consumerism troubling, but it did, for a time, unite us. Now, to fulfill that same need, we simply order items on Amazon, or even marketplaces embedded within social media platforms. As far as corporate powers are concerned, we are still consuming. And as far as we are concerned, we are still getting that hit of dopamine associated with a new sweater or video game. But what we are missing is social connection, which is all that we as a supposed society should really be concerned with.

So, think about the movies once more. I wouldn't blame you for feeling an initial excitement in response to WarnerMedia's announcement that it will be bringing its 17 films in 2021 to HBO Max and theaters simultaneously. After all, for just $15/month, we can now watch some of 2021's biggest blockbusters: Godzilla vs. Kong, The Suicide Squad, Dune, etc. We already have 4k streaming, and TV screens are only getting bigger and bigger. As HBO once promised, the box office truly has arrived in our homes!

But is that such a good thing?

We are increasingly faced with more and more reasons to stay at home, and fewer and fewer reasons to venture outside. The movie theater ensured that sitting down to watch a piece of media was an event. You had to get in your car and drive to your local theater. You had to buy the tickets and buy your concessions (no amount of technological improvement will ever replicate movie theater popcorn at home) and find your seat and only then could you enjoy the film. It was exciting!

I understand I am referring to movie theaters in the past tense, as if they are already gone. I admit that I can sound a bit like a doomsdayer when it comes to the decline of theaters, but I sadly don't see a way out for even the nation's largest exhibition chains. The death of the cinema has been gestating for over a decade now, and now it seems the responsible party is the company whose name nearly promised it almost fifty years ago.

WarnerMedia can cite a lot of different reasons for its historic decision, and it may technically be true that this was their best course of action from a business perspective. However, the industry titan, which was recently acquired by AT&T in a stunning rejection of antitrust laws, has no one to blame but themselves for their recent predicament.

Sure, streaming 17 high-profile films on HBO Max will likely shore up the struggling streamer, although it remains to be seen whether or not it can compete with Netflix, Hulu, or even Disney+, whose parent company doesn't seem quite as reliant upon the service's potential for domination. WarnerMedia wants HBO Max to be the top dog in the world of streaming, but I think it's safe to say that no amount of content will impact its standing in that realm.

While it's certainly a matter of personal preference, I find Netflix's selection underwhelming more often than not. And yet, there is no doubt that the streaming giant will continue to reign supreme. On the other hand, I absolutely love HBO Max! It offers a wealth of films in the Criterion Collection, including a number of Orson Welles films for those who want to learn more about the enigmatic artist after watching Mank (a Netflix Original, by the way.) HBO Max also offers a huge selection of titles set in the DC Universe, with several more reportedly on the way. Of course, the streamer also provides access to HBO's extensive catalogue, allowing subscribers access to some of the biggest shows in television history. An embarrassing marketing snafu has dug HBO Max into a hole, but the quality of its content has already rendered it worthy of streaming supremacy.

Besides, there is a COVID-19 vaccine on the way. HBO Max has an opportunity for a test run with Wonder Woman 1984, which releases on Christmas Day in theaters and on HBO Max. Millions of Americans are still yet to discover the surplus of films and TV shows that have worked to justify HBO's full name over the years.

The entire decision therefore reeks of desperation, and is ultimately misguided and premature. WarnerMedia CEO Jason Kilar seems like a man without a plan, and now a cornerstone of not just film culture, but American culture at large, is in jeopardy.

We have never been further apart, and it seems we may never see one another again.