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There are master manipulators at the studios. They know some exposure is a heaven-sent perk, like last month's 60 Minutes report on a murder case that inspired the new Meryl Streep film A Cry in the Dark. But they also know their job. So they hire a firm to tape a generic interview with their star, then send local TV stations a cassette in which the star's comments can be intercut with questions posed by a station reporter. It's no-fault, no-sweat, no-work journalism.
The best publicists know how to woo and use even the jackpot shows like Today and Good Morning America. A studio may let a show do a location report in exchange for multishow exposure when the film is released. Nowadays, the big stars expect more than at least three segments on the breakfast clubs; for a Clint Eastwood, the Today show should be renamed Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow. Says one studio publicity executive: "If you have a few Class A stars in a picture, you can play the two shows off each other until you get everything you want. On Steel Magnolias, for example, you could tell Today they can have Sally Field and Dolly Parton if they take on some lesser-known actors as well. Then you tell Good Morning America that they can have Shirley MacLaine and Olympia Dukakis if they do other segments on the film. On a picture like that, I'd go for the gold."
The gold is media saturation, not great reviews. In the movie business, the still, small voice of the critic is . . . still small. The movie-critic TV shows -- Siskel & Ebert and their clones -- have some influence, at least as consumer alerts, because they devote much of their time to running film clips. But the print critics are hardly relevant to Hollywood. They may be able to help a small film, but they can't break a big one. "You always want a happy Friday," one studio exec says of critical raves. "But if the movie is an audience pleaser, it can overcome bad reviews, especially in the summer. People aren't walking in out of the heat to get art. They're looking for diversion."
So, presumably, are the readers and viewers who sit back and gorge on junk news. But what nourishment can they take from these myriad factoids about a film's budget, an actor's motivation, a director's neuroses, a special-effects man's wizardry? If moviegoers gain infotainment, they may be losing their innocence -- the magic tingle of walking into a big, dark theater whose pleasures are yet to be revealed. By pushing its stars and its secrets across the breakfast table, Hollywood may be hyping itself right out of the wonder business.