‘Wolfs’ and the death of art

Wolfs is fine. Some scenes are very good.

That’s what I would write if it hadn’t been six weeks since my last review and if I didn’t feel the need to make up for my lack of quantity by maintaining the highest possible quality. Since I only write maybe one review a month, I want each one to be an experience in itself. This is why I’m sitting here, hours after watching Wolfs, trying to fabricate some sort of cultural or artistic statement out of a film that is fine. Some scenes are very good.

The Wolfs script is nothing groundbreaking and falls apart under any level of analysis. The direction is competent if unremarkable. The cinematography and technical aspects are up to par, even if there are a couple noticeable continuity errors. Nothing scene-breaking but noticeable nonetheless. The leads are all enjoyable and play to type: George Clooney being charismatic, soulful and stoic; Brad Pitt being charismatic, cocky, and jocular; and Amy Ryan being compelling and entirely underutilized. The actual events of the film are as predictable as the film itself being carried by the palpable charm and chemistry of its two protagonists. The best scenes are, obviously, those where Clooney and Pitt get to bounce off each other, be it as collaborators or as antagonists. This is all as to be expected, almost as though the film were designed to be precisely this way.

In another time Wolfs would have been a mid-budget film that opens at number one on star power alone, makes its money back plus some, and then fades away quick enough to allow “edgier” media outlets to speculate that Clooney or Pitt or both have lost their box office appeal. It would have been the type of movie that when it pops up on cable television six months after release viewers stop, watch, leave during the commercials, come back, watch to end and think, “That was fine. Some scenes were very good.” And this is exactly why Wolfs is the perfect film for the movie industry’s current streaming model.

Following a bidding war between several different studios, Apple+ purchased the distribution rights to Wolfs back in 2021. Originally scheduled for a wide theatrical release, Apple instead opted for a limited one before then placing the film on their streaming service after only one week. According to the New York Times, this change came because Apple didn’t want to risk public disappointment if the film didn’t perform at the box office, and that both Clooney and Pitt put up some of their salaries to maintain even that small theatrical release. In other words: Apple paid a bunch of money for a film on the strength of the names involved, worried the film wouldn’t perform well in the theater, and shuffled it directly to their streaming service instead. Thus, in our time, Wolfs is one of dozens if not hundreds of perfectly fine films released less to drive filmgoers to the theater than to entice subscribers into paying for another month.

While writer/director Jon Watts claims that he always envisioned Wolfs for the big screen, it’s likely that the reality of the film’s distribution influenced his work to some degree. The film hadn’t yet been written when Apple purchased its rights, and with the company clearly needing material – or “content” as the modern vernacular goes – for their streaming service, Watts, Clooney, Pitt, and everyone else involved with Wolfs had to know that the main appeal would lie in the film’s potential to interest subscribers instead of moviegoers. With movie theaters struggling to fill seats, and even excellent films from known franchises such a Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga failing at the box office, a film like Wolfs has a much greater chance of being viewed on streaming, if only because its audience doesn’t have to leave home or pay any extra for it. This, in turn, disincentivizes filmmakers from taking the extra steps needed to move a film from fine/sometimes very good to very good/sometimes great. The audience will be there no matter what, if only because they’ve already paid for their ticket and may as well watch before the film is removed from the homepage and buried among the ever-increasing pile of content.  This is especially true with something like Wolfs which feels as though it’s just a couple of revisions away from earning the type of confidence that would have maintained its wide release. Killers of the Flower Moon demonstrated Apple’s willingness to release a film even when its quality won’t match its commercial success. As has been the cinematic model for decades.

In any time, there are always several bad movies released. Some of these fail while some succeed far more than deserved. Just the same, great movies have both drawn audience and repelled them. This is all to be expected. Yet the demand for constant, more, and new content encourages mediocrity. Where media outlets, be they film studios or newspapers, used to live and die by their ability to appeal to audiences, whether through being pleasing or being prestigious, digital platforms – streamers, news sites, and so forth – just want stuff. Whether it’s Don’t Look Up or Red Notice, The New Yorker or We Got This Covered, everything is just content. So why care? Why should a director, a screenwriter, a reviewer, a novelist, a musician, a painter, put themselves through the stress of making unique artistic experiences when it’s all destined to be lumped into the same pile as the disposable nonsense? Why make Wolfs better when it’s inevitably going to be background noise to an audience scrolling through Instagram and Tik Tok? In a climate where quantity is prioritized, quality suffers.

Wolfs is fine. It would have been fine and done fine in theaters.
But it’s great for streaming because it’s the exact type of film that streamers like: engaging enough to keep the retention time up, not so engaging that the viewers can’t look at their phones, and with enough cachet to satisfy subscribers. There aren’t many standout moments but the film is generally pleasant. Lazy but enjoyable, as though designed to precisely be this way.  The way that every streaming service wants its films. Hold attention just long enough to be forgotten. The way every media platform wants its content.

Trouble is, fine shouldn’t be enough. Fine shouldn’t be enough for George Clooney or Brad Pitt, who both made great efforts in moving from romantic heartthrobs to Academy Award winners. Even if their films turned out to be misfires, like Leatherheads or The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, at least they were interesting misfires. (For the record, while recent stories about Brad Pitt’s personal conduct have somewhat diminished my view of him, I still very much appreciate Clooney for his talent as well as his activism and charity work, even if his NY Times op-ed was ill-worded). Nor should fine be enough for the streaming platforms that produce these films or the subscribers who pay for them. Fine shouldn’t be enough for people who make, watch and discuss films. We shouldn’t have to race to the middle. Content, as the modern vernacular goes, is the death of art.

Art takes time. Art takes effort. Art is divisive and often unappreciated. Not everyone can make art and not everyone who thinks they can is actually good at making it. Art is ambitious and often falls short of its ambition. Art is riddled with misfires. Art is pretentious and longwinded and thinks it’s more important than it is. Art is also the most important, most inspiring, most precious thing in the world. It is the least practical pursuit ever created and is therefore the most practical measure of human achievement. Art is meant to be rare and special rather than quick and disposable. Quantity means nothing to art while quality means everything. Art is not content. Art is always at risk of public disappointment. Art, whether witnessing it or creating it, is an experience in itself. There is no art in being mediocre.

Art is why I can’t just write:

Wolfs is fine.

Some scenes are very good.

Rating 3 / 5