Some 56 million U.S. people, week in & week out, go to the movies. The nation's 1946 film audience is the biggest in box-office history.*For optimists who wistfully hope that the movies may some day grow up to be Art—i.e., from mediocre to first-rate entertainment—this is bad news.
The thousands of talented artists employed in moviemaking are rarely permitted to fool around with art. Hollywood is a hard-pressed manufacturing center; it must turn out a reliable product that can be peddled to an exacting mass market. The 56 million customers know—or are told that they know—exactly what they want.
Figuring out what they do want has become a test-tube science. A bustling organization called Audience Research, Inc. now makes a profitable career of it. A.R.I., one of Pollster George Gallup's far-flung enterprises, is prepared to tell a movie manufacturer what he can expect to gross, within 10%, from an unreleased picture.
People & Money. A.R.I.'s top-drawer clients include such shrewd and seasoned manufacturers as Sam Goldwyn, Walt Disney, MGM, David 0. Selznick, Hal Wallis, J. Arthur Rank, RKO. After ten years of cautious experimenting and testing, A.R.I, is equipped with everything from Gallup interviewers to electrical gadgets that measure audience boredom. Its trade lingo glitters with professionalisms: A.P. (Audience Penetration), Want-to-See, Don't-Want-to-See, Word-of-Mouth.
One A.R.I, executive has stated the objectives concisely: "We deal with people and money; we're not interested in morals and that stuff." Hollywood, also passionately interested in people and money, is bending a fairly respectful ear these days to A.R.I.'s detailed advice.
Any picture's market value (or Want-to-See) depends on four basics: 1) theme —not necessarily the same as plot, 2) title, 3) cast and 4) a relatively unimportant item, treatment (script, direction, acting, etc.). By testing the first three elements on a cross-section audience, A.R.I, can predict, before a foot of film is exposed, whether the finished picture will panic them or put them to sleep.
The title is all-important. More than one-fourth of all moviegoers buy tickets without knowing anything about the feature except its title. (Example: with an almost identical theme, two titles registered at opposite poles on A.R.I, popularity tests: Hitler's Children was a beauty; The Master Race, a dud.)
Stars & Stories. Cast is tricky, too. A pair of big stars doesn't necessarily add up to the combined drawing power of two alluring individuals. Surprisingly, several well-known names, too closely associated with unpopular movies, add to a picture's Don't-Want-to-See. Popular supporting players sometimes help. In rare instances, so does a director, like Alfred Hitchcock.
Even if both title and cast are downright thrilling, A.R.I, may discover that customers look bored at mention of the proposed story about an unhappy North Dakota farm wife. The manufacturer who persists in going through with such a dubious theme is warned to soft-pedal it in advertising. (Paramount's Double Indemnity suffered when advance publicity tipped off audiences that Fred MacMurray was cast as a heel.)