Censored: Are Review Embargoes Outdated?

Movie reviews. The world takes them for granted. They are the columns that let readers know which pieces of cinema to avoid, which are good for children, and which are sure genius, a feature we accept as an everyday convenience. So it may be surprising to find that this commonplace piece of criticism has become the source of a heated debate. When reading Patrick Goldstein's Los Angeles Times blog The Big Picture, however, that is exactly what I discovered. His post "We're reviewing Milk whether Focus Features wants us to or not" discusses a long-standing practice called "review embargoes," where a studio screens a film for the press, with the caveat that they cannot print their critiques until a certain date. The controversy, which has been ongoing for some time, is currently centered around the circumstances of recent reviews for Oscar-hopeful Milk: Variety and The Hollywood Reporter, two trade magazines with considerable clout, were allowed by Focus Features (producers of Milk) to run their analyses of the picture weeks before any of the other critics who attended the preview showing, leaving pundits for smaller outlets to cry foul, or in Goldstein's case, to break the ban. Once one gets past the finger pointing, the heart of the matter is that, due to the wide-spread use of the Internet, the complicated rules of review embargoes about who can publish what and when are an increasingly outdated form of marketing control.

The biggest problem with review embargoes is the multitude of dates when the embargo is lifted for various critics, especially since the current system does not adequately handle the impact of the World Wide Web on journalism. On the surface, there is a logical progression to when reporters can publish their reviews, based on such factors as whether their news medium comes out once a week or daily. But there are even more guidelines that allow certain trade magazines (publications that are aimed at workers in an industry) like Variety to be free of restrictions well in advance of anyone else. David Poland (pictured below), an outspoken critic of embargoes, argues that this is especially outmoded since most "are no longer primarily a trade magazine. They are websites." In the past, Variety would have largely been seen by a small, select group, mainly those employed in the film business of Hollywood, a fact that partly justified--or at least minimized the impact of--its special treatment. But now that Variety is also online, it has a much wider circulation than it did in the past, spreading reviews well beyond hard-copy subscribers to anyone with Internet access, unfairly scooping every other newspaper and column in the process. Some may argue that this is part of the business; certain reporters get breaks ahead of others. It is one thing, however, to follow a lead or to get a tip that gives one an advantage over the competition. It is quite another to have a company give all columnists the same information and then tell all but two of them to wait three weeks before they run the material. If studios want to allow certain journalists to write their notices early, they should get a separate screening, a tactic that is more akin to granting an exclusive story. In addition, this privilege should be rotated around so that one or two outlets cannot monopolize the market for first reviews. For the rest, the embargo should be lifted on the same date, leaving the papers with the final decision about when to print their thoughts.

Another complication in the mechanics of review embargoes is the argument over what exactly constitutes a "review," especially given the influence of the Internet. As a case in point, examine this post by David Poland, made through his iPhone immediately after viewing Milk. Patrick Goldstein in his aforementioned blog states that Poland's entry "looks like a post" to him. But Poland claims that it is in keeping with Focus Features guidelines, which allowed reporters to distribute "their brief thoughts" on the movie. The difference between "brief thoughts" and a "review," aside from the obvious variation in word count, is highly subjective, with the ultimate decision on the definition residing with the studios themselves. This is further complicated by the changing face of who is writing these critiques. In his denouncing of embargoes, Poland cites multiple instances where a person has managed to skirt around the rules because a studio did not officially classify him as a "film critic" and therefore did not force him to agree to the same contract as the rest of the members of the press. Is a blogger a "film critic"? Today, the ability to reach a mass audience is no longer restricted to accredited journalists. If a blogger manages to secure a ticket to an advance screening, is he bound by the same embargo rules? What of the reporter who works mainly by blogging for a major newspaper? When is he allowed to publish his thoughts? There are dozens of new complications brought to the foreground by the Internet, and even the intricate rules of the embargo cannot cover all the loopholes.

Why do studios stick with a policy that is increasingly flawed? The answer appears to be that they are still trying to maintain control in a culture that revolves around the free flow of information. As Ben Child of the Guardian points out, marketers are notorious for attempting to suppress negative press on a movie before it comes out to prevent potential revenue loss. Aintitcool.com was forced to pull its early bad review of The Clone Wars, though Empire Online's fairly positive feedback was untouched. If a product does not look like it will do well at the box office, the embargo may be held as long as possible, up to the day of its release, in an endeavor to contain the momentum of poor word of mouth. Journalists cannot do much to fight this, as those who break the ban risk not being issued a pass for the next movie screening, something they are not willing to hazard. On the one hand, marketers have an obligation to make sure that their films succeed in the box office. But should they be allowed ultimate control over which critiques are available to the public? It is tactic that benefits the companies' pocketbooks, but not the consumer, who has a right to know if a picture is worth their time and money. Keeping columnists from spreading the word that a film is not worth either seems to be lying by omission. In an ideal situation, the studios should control when a movie is screened, but not what happens afterward. When and where a review is posted needs to be left to the journalists, not to those who have it in their best interests to avoid possible bad press. As long as studios control who gets early access to a picture, however, it is doubtful that a revolution is anywhere in the making.