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Aug 12, 2023

Spielberg, Scorsese, And PTA Can't Save TCM

Movie lovers were supposed to breathe a sigh of relief last week when Warner Bros. Discovery announced the un-firing of Turner Classic Movies head programmer, Charles Tabesh. This move was in response

Movie lovers were supposed to breathe a sigh of relief last week when Warner Bros. Discovery announced the un-firing of Turner Classic Movies head programmer, Charles Tabesh. This move was in response to a deafening howl of outrage from a passionate community that, increasingly devoid of quality options at the multiplexes, cherishes the long-running cable channel as a vital outlet for intelligent, well-crafted adult fare from a time when cinema ruled the entertainment roost. It kinda did the trick. Knowing Tabesh, one of the most respected film programmers in the world, would still be around to complement beloved classics with the deepest of cinema cuts meant TCM wouldn't become the "Casablanca"-every-other-day channel.

WB Discovery also continued to hype the programming/curation input of Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, and Paul Thomas Anderson — which is a terrific PR win for embattled CEO David Zaslav but does little to move the needle outside of the industry. It's actually more heartening to know that creative oversight of TCM has shifted from Discovery veteran Kathleen Finch to Warner Bros. Pictures honchos Michael De Luca and Pamela Abdy. You'd much rather have the genuine film buff who greenlit "Seven," "Boogie Nights" and "Magnolia" co-leading TCM than a reality-show-driven exec who lists "90 Day Fiancé" as one of her proudest artistic achievements.

But De Luca and Abdy are movie people tasked with restoring Warner Bros. Pictures to its former glory by making movies. They don't have time to manage TCM, nor does the Spielberg/Scorsese/PTA triumvirate. So if this group is genuinely committed to the survival of the cable network, and venerating the studio's vast, varied library, they've got one screamingly obvious option that'll allow cinephiles the world over to exhale.

If Zaslav is the classic film fan he repeatedly claims to be, he should be familiar with the observation, "It's no trick to make a lot of money, if all you want to do is make a lot of money." This saying applies to saving money as well.

Zaslav, who inherited a debt-ridden WarnerMedia when the company merged with his thriving Discovery, is currently in slash-and-burn mode to please shareholders and, perhaps, make the studio flippable somewhere in the near-ish future. Per his company's own PR, he's personally due nine-figure compensation if he more than doubles the company's stock price. So he's doing the easy part first: firing as many people as possible, and selling off assets (like half of its music, film and television catalogue).

It's filthy business, but Zaslav has his Hamptons reputation to worry about. Still, as ruthless as he promised to be when he seized control of WarnerMedia, he assured movie lovers that he was one of us. He valued WB's history. He fell in love with movies as a regular, middle-class kid growing up in Brooklyn, and dreamed of running a studio. He works from Jack Warner's desk in his office, where TCM is always playing in the background. He spoke at last April's TCM Classic Film Festival (alongside Spielberg and PTA), and assured the audience the channel's future was secure.

His first greenlight after the merger was to blow the dust off of Hamptons lunch-buddy Nicholas Pileggi's "Wise Guys," a gangster project that had been kicking around the studios since the early 1970s; attaching Barry Levinson as director (who hasn't made a commercially successful film since 1997's "Wag the Dog") puzzled several industry insiders with whom I've spoken. It was old Hollywood chumminess that reeked of rich white-guy back-slapping, and this was before Zaslav erased Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah's already finished "Batgirl" movie. Shot on an apparent $50 million budget, the film is in post-production, and has a slated release date of February 2, 2024, although that could always change.

So when Zaslav cleaned house in June by firing five of TCM's top execs, while slashing the staff from somewhere around 90 to around 20, cinephiles were furious. You don't need an MBA to know that a personnel cut that deep is meant to hobble, not sustain. Zaslav didn't care; however, his Hamptons buddy, Steven Spielberg, didn't appreciate being used as a rubber stamp at the TCM Fest. A Zoom call was arranged, which resulted in an empty press release assuring viewers that the three aforementioned filmmakers would mind the short-staffed store. When absolutely no one bought this, Tabesh was reinstalled as head programmer.

Though I'm amused that Zaslav has turned Tabesh into a rock star amongst movie lovers, he is but one man. Tabesh can't do what he's done so brilliantly alone. He needs a team steeped in every facet of film history to help him track down and license those obscure titles that nourish our desire for, ironically, discovery. Basically, he needs everyone Finch and Zaslav axed.

On a practical, strictly corporate level, this should not happen. TCM is currently only available on cable (streaming-wise, no one associated with the channel has anything to do with that embarrassingly shallow hub on Max), and cable is speeding toward total obsolescence. Its 70% profit margin is evidently meaningless to Warner Bros Discovery. If Zaslav hadn't so shamelessly dampened Spielberg's backside over the years, TCM could've easily been shuttered last year.

According to a recent Hollywood Reporter article by Kim Masters, Zaslav underestimated the widespread industry love for TCM (even Ryan Reynolds leaped into the fray). But what jumped out to me in that piece is that he was most miffed that outsiders "were telling him how to run his business," which is not the sentiment of a chastened man. Indeed, that he's still holding firm on the decimation of TCM's staff — which, to give you a sense of the petty scope of this brouhaha, was hastened by a $3 million cut in the channel's budget — suggests that he's still determined to win this battle. And if that's all he wants, TCM is living on borrowed time.

What's his endgame? My most charitable read is that he'd like to have a boutique outlet that flaunts his prestigious industry connections, e.g. Scorsese presents "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre." This is where the directors he supposedly worships need, as gently as possible, to remind him that in acquiring WB, he became a steward of Hollywood history. Name-dropping a handful of black-and-white movies as evidence of his love for classic cinema won't get it done. Sitting at Jack Warner's desk is the emptiest of gestures if you're disinterested in sharing his studio's output with the public.

TCM is small potatoes financially, but, as a reflection of the company's dedication to the art that made it what it is today, it's invaluable. You re-staff, eat that $3 million, and declare the channel off-limits. You run it at a (presumably minuscule) loss if need be. If Zaslav does this one, culturally good thing, and once he pays his writers what they're worth, his legacy might not be a disaster in the long term (though I know the short term is where his CEO ilk lives). He also might actually earn the love he seeks from the directors he purports to adore (which will make it so much easier for De Luca and Abdy to lure Christopher Nolan back into the fold, not to mention build out the studio's stable of top-tier filmmakers).

This isn't easy in our fiercely risk-averse age. Because while it's no trick to make a lot of money, it takes vision and fearlessness to make a lot of good movies. It is, however, financially feasible to show a lot of great movies 24/7 on TCM.

Probably costs less than a summer of fine dining in the Hamptons — and, uh, which card are we using out there, David? Because that's an easy snip.