Talk to people well-versed in pop culture of the 1990s and early 2000s and one would find few people that have not heard of Pokemon. The Japanese anime became a global phenomenon, sparking countless translated reruns of the original (and still ongoing) TV series, video games, and movies. But even the most celebrated piece of pop culture reaches popular fatigue after some time. For Pokemon, despite the continued introduction of new characters, the tired storyline of adventuring Pokemon trainers seeking new friends and victories can no longer excite some of the original fans.
Perhaps realizing the slow demise of its global fanbase, the Pokemon Company took a big gamble with the beloved characters themselves in the newest Detective Pikachu movie. Not only did the company allow Pikachu to talk as a decidedly uncute but extremely familiar and funny middle-aged voice of Ryan Reynolds, but it went even a step further by allowing Hollywood specialist to recreate Pokemon in 3D. The result is for sure controversial – plenty of criticism of how furs ruined the looks (and beautiful childhood memories) of many beloved characters – but no doubt garnered much-needed attention.
The artistic innovation of Detective Pikachu shows an ongoing dilemma faced by investors in new movies. On one hand, there is an overwhelming sense of risk-aversion. Instead of coming up with new characters and storylines, studios stick to already well-known characters that have solid track records of bringing in big money in the box office. The countless sequels of Marvel comic heroes, Disney stories, and Star Wars all illustrate this phenomenon just as well as Pokemon. Recycling the same characters and similar storylines have become a great way to make money.
But, on the other hand, studio executives and movie directors know that their audience in the theaters is fickle. Even though consumers love seeing familiar faces on the big screen, they expect the stories to progress, move forward, or at least bring something new that they have not seen before. Without the right innovation, even big budgets spent on stars and cutting-edge computer graphics to boost familiar franchises may not draw a big audience and might even hurt the previously untouchable success of the franchise itself.
That clear incentive to continuing innovating on what is highly familiar results in the artistic license Detective Pikachu took to stray away from the original (and what most fans expect from) Pokemon series. It shows that even within the overall environment of risk aversion, there can still be creativeness based on significant risk-taking. Such "limited risk-taking" creates an environment in which something that people in their later 20s and early 30s love, like Pokemon, can still be deemed "cool" and desirable by the current group of pre-teens and teens that did not grow up with it.
This sort of limited innovativeness can be a device for pop culture continuation even outside movies and TV series. Music and food come to mind as two other cultural products in which the same concept is applicable and desirable. Without even the current listeners realizing it, the most recent pop songs did not just come from the mind of a genius but are based on a long tradition of evolving melodies and composition. Similarly, new foods are not "invented" per se – rather, they are created from existing ingredients and cooking methods that evolved over the course of centuries.
But while the music and food industry always recognized that their outputs are not made in a vacuum but exist in the context of a long history and on the shoulder of giants of the past, the film industry has only been as forthright recently. Certainly, movie creators talk about inspirations from past legends and techniques used in earlier eras, but they are more likely to cite zeitgeist, advancing computer technology, and big money in the industry as primary reasons for their own success. Only with the development of decades-long franchises like the Star Wars has there been more overt credit given to stories of the past.
Given the comparison to food and music, it might be good that the film industry is coming to this recognition, however belated. Rather than lamenting a lack of "truly new" films in the market, the audience should embrace a new era of films that embrace continuation from the past on a more fundamental storytelling level. But more directly connecting audiences from different ages with commonly shared stories, movies can serve as a stronger centripetal force that unifies members of a culture (and beyond), just as food and music have done for decades.
Perhaps realizing the slow demise of its global fanbase, the Pokemon Company took a big gamble with the beloved characters themselves in the newest Detective Pikachu movie. Not only did the company allow Pikachu to talk as a decidedly uncute but extremely familiar and funny middle-aged voice of Ryan Reynolds, but it went even a step further by allowing Hollywood specialist to recreate Pokemon in 3D. The result is for sure controversial – plenty of criticism of how furs ruined the looks (and beautiful childhood memories) of many beloved characters – but no doubt garnered much-needed attention.
The artistic innovation of Detective Pikachu shows an ongoing dilemma faced by investors in new movies. On one hand, there is an overwhelming sense of risk-aversion. Instead of coming up with new characters and storylines, studios stick to already well-known characters that have solid track records of bringing in big money in the box office. The countless sequels of Marvel comic heroes, Disney stories, and Star Wars all illustrate this phenomenon just as well as Pokemon. Recycling the same characters and similar storylines have become a great way to make money.
But, on the other hand, studio executives and movie directors know that their audience in the theaters is fickle. Even though consumers love seeing familiar faces on the big screen, they expect the stories to progress, move forward, or at least bring something new that they have not seen before. Without the right innovation, even big budgets spent on stars and cutting-edge computer graphics to boost familiar franchises may not draw a big audience and might even hurt the previously untouchable success of the franchise itself.
That clear incentive to continuing innovating on what is highly familiar results in the artistic license Detective Pikachu took to stray away from the original (and what most fans expect from) Pokemon series. It shows that even within the overall environment of risk aversion, there can still be creativeness based on significant risk-taking. Such "limited risk-taking" creates an environment in which something that people in their later 20s and early 30s love, like Pokemon, can still be deemed "cool" and desirable by the current group of pre-teens and teens that did not grow up with it.
This sort of limited innovativeness can be a device for pop culture continuation even outside movies and TV series. Music and food come to mind as two other cultural products in which the same concept is applicable and desirable. Without even the current listeners realizing it, the most recent pop songs did not just come from the mind of a genius but are based on a long tradition of evolving melodies and composition. Similarly, new foods are not "invented" per se – rather, they are created from existing ingredients and cooking methods that evolved over the course of centuries.
But while the music and food industry always recognized that their outputs are not made in a vacuum but exist in the context of a long history and on the shoulder of giants of the past, the film industry has only been as forthright recently. Certainly, movie creators talk about inspirations from past legends and techniques used in earlier eras, but they are more likely to cite zeitgeist, advancing computer technology, and big money in the industry as primary reasons for their own success. Only with the development of decades-long franchises like the Star Wars has there been more overt credit given to stories of the past.
Given the comparison to food and music, it might be good that the film industry is coming to this recognition, however belated. Rather than lamenting a lack of "truly new" films in the market, the audience should embrace a new era of films that embrace continuation from the past on a more fundamental storytelling level. But more directly connecting audiences from different ages with commonly shared stories, movies can serve as a stronger centripetal force that unifies members of a culture (and beyond), just as food and music have done for decades.
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