Historically, January is widely considered to be the dumping ground for theatrical movies studios don't have any faith in. They slide them into the multiplex after the prestige movies of December, but before Oscar nominees start getting re-released in theaters leading up to the big show. I've been taking the doldrums of Theatrical January for granted most of my life, winging about how terrible the movies were and how stupid the studios had to be to pay for such garbage...but no more.
From now on, I'm leaning into optimism and taking the position that every movie that makes it into the theater is a minor miracle...good or bad. Last year Warner Bros. Discovery's CEO David Zaslav didn't release nearly completed theatrical films like "Batgirl" and "Scoob! Holiday Haunt" (and removed hundreds of hours of Warner Bros. animated shows from HBO Max) to get a tax credit. Content providers can pull their agreements with online stores for shows you've already paid for and then remove them from your library. The Playstation Store lost the rights to Discovery shows, so if you purchased seasons of "Mythbusters," as of December 31, 2023, you'll lose your ownership of them with no refund. This sets up a scenario where content providers can say when you purchase something digitally, you're not buying it, you're just leasing it.
We've obviously always known that movies are a business, and to executives, the art of cinema comes down to how many zeroes a film makes at the box office, but this is remarkably cynical, even for what might arguably be one of the most cynical industries on the planet. When a studio makes more money from a tax credit by not releasing a film they already paid to make, then we're headed into an undiscovered country where CEOs like Zaslav can shrink the content library of a streaming service to avoid residual payments, making those films ostensibly impossible to find digitally. Those hundreds of episodes of animation (including almost 200 episodes of "Sesame Street") are just gone unless you're like me and hoard physical media like a dragon and its gold.
No more sighs about how terrible the films are in January... I'm just happy they exist for people to experience, even though the first horror movie of the year is usually pretty rancid. I'll never forget in January 2012 when Paramount released "The Devil Inside," to this day the worst horror movie I've ever seen in a theater. Just imagine: an extremely dull exorcism movie that builds to a ridiculous frenzy and then right as things are about to finally pop off...smash cut to black and a title card telling the audience to go to Thedevilinside.com to see what happens next. Only in January would a film be released that's so lazy that you have to go to a website to see the ending.
I have a blast going to whatever horror movie the studio dumps into theaters in January and enjoy watching uniquely bad movies in general, so whether the film is terrible or even surprisingly good, it's a win for me. This year was especially exciting, since the first horror movie of 2024 is "Night Swim," which is, I shit you not, about a haunted swimming pool. I had unrealistically high hopes for this since it was starring Wyatt Russell (the very talented nepo baby offspring of Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn) and the great Kerry Condon (who stunned with her work in "The Banshees of Inisherin").
With actors that good and a premise as goofy as a *checks notes* yep, a haunted swimming pool, "Night Swim" should have been perversely entertaining in its ridiculousness, but instead it's just kinda sleepy. As someone who grew up with movies like "Death Bed: The Bed That Eats," "Death Spa," "Blood Diner" and "Rubber" (which follows around a killer tire), I was hoping that "Night Swim" would lean into the batshittery of the concept. Instead, it's a serious, character-driven supernatural horror film that has zero chill and instead combines a dozen exhausted horror tropes in instantly forgettable ways.
"Night Swim" isn't hilariously bad or surprisingly good, but lives in some unremarkable space in between. Still, I'm happy there was a bad January horror movie to see in theaters instead of it being held hostage by a distributor for a tax rebate. I'll always champion the theatrical experience because as soon as that model becomes unviable for studios, they'll start burying completed films like bones in a backyard.
There's a reason why filmmakers like Scorsese and Spielberg spend so much money, time and energy on the preservation of film: it doesn't matter if a movie is good or bad, art should be protected and released to the people. I would gladly watch the worst movie ever made instead of letting some corporate dick make it disappear. Every movie is someone's favorite, so removing the choice to see one is not much different than banning a book or album — except the reason isn't a "moral" decision, but a monetary one. I would gladly suffer through 100 movies as bad as "Night Swim" instead of losing the ability to see just one that's even worse.
