The theater lights dim. Digitally mastered drum beats burst from three-foot speakers lining the walls. A jungle canopy appears on the screen, just visible through a hazy mist. Cut to a young man dressed in a loincloth, his black hair spilling over muscular shoulders, a canine tooth dangling from his earlobe. Through a series of tightly-edited shots mixed with written narration, we see the story unfold in split-second increments; the hero relaxing by a fire with his pregnant wife and frolicking with local children; pierced and menacing warriors creeping towards him through the forest; the hero being plucked from his domestic tranquility and carted off to an ancient city in which swarms of half-naked extras dance on CGI-tinged temples. Finally, the screen goes black, the drums are silent, and the title appears in white block letters: "MEL GIBSON'S APOCALYPTO"
Ever since the July evening when news of Gibson's anti-semitic tirade barnstormed through the internet and airwaves, the sight of his name hasn't been the same. Memories of widespread outrage, indignation, calls for industry boycotts and flat out disgust accompany the mention of it. His subsequent stint in rehab, attempts to apologize to religious leaders and demure admissions to Diane Sawyer sounded hollow, pathetic even, a set of carefully-orchestrated attempts by a desperate narcissist to regain the public adoration he'd so soundly pummeled.
After initial waves of Gibson-induced revulsion passed, a question arose in Hollywood and media circles: What about his existing film projects? ABC took less than two months to announce it was dropping Gibson's planned Holocaust miniseries, claiming that the project was still in infancy and without a script. Disney, on the other hand, was in a substantially different position, sitting on a completed movie with a budget of nearly $80 million. As such, Disney executives made the decision to continue plans for distribution, all while denying reports that the studio was distancing itself from the disgraced star. The movie is set to open on December 8.
As with any big-budget Hollywood epic, Disney's marketing department went about assembling a widespread marketing campaign. Trailers are running in theaters, posters are popping up on billboards and major networks are airing TV spots in high-traffic time slots. While their slick editing and stylish art are typical of large-scale Hollywood campaigns, Apocalypto's ads are unique in one aspect: Gibson's name is plastered across every one of them. Official posters and websites display the film's title as Mel Gibson's Apocalypto, and smack in the middle of the 30-second TV spot the action stops for a shot of Mel commenting on his movie's importance. Not even heavy hitting directors like Steven Spielberg or James Cameron get that kind of prominence or airtime in ads. Even the studio stills posted on IMDB feature Gibson (some of them ridiculously so - this shot could have come from any number of sets and reveals nothing from behind the scenes).
Such an unsubtle marketing strategy begs the question, if you're releasing a potential blockbuster and your director is a walking bottle of audience-repellent for large numbers of moviegoers, wouldn't you think twice before tying him so incessantly to your film? Disney's answer is clearly no, for reasons we can only speculate. One explanation is that studio execs are relying on the basic truth of the adage, "There simply is no such thing as bad publicity." Another, more calculated possibility is that Disney is banking on the religious right. With Passion of the Christ (and its $371 million domestic gross) tied to his belt, Gibson has built a substantial Christian following and started a faith-based film craze that has spawned numerous copycats. Conservative Christian leaders such as James Dobson have already heaped praise on Gibson's new film, while early reviews draw frequent parallels between Apocalypto and Passion. All of which points to the conclusion that Disney, knowing that anti-Gibson-ites will avoid the film like Avian Flu, is counting on ticket dollars from the group that will still come to see his movies, racist tirades and alcoholic binges be -er- damned.
Regardless of the motives behind their marketing strategy, Disney's got a bit of a Catch-22 on its hands; while they need their high-profile director (and the only star associated with the film) to promote the movie, sending him out on public appearances can invite further trouble. Case in point: Last week Gibson slashed open old wounds by supporting Michael Richards in the wake of the former Seinfeld star's own racist meltdown. According to Entertainment Weekly, Gibson said, "I feel really badly for the guy" in response to questions about Richards, all during a four-hour interview as part of his media blitz to promote - you guessed it - Apocalypto.
As for the actual movie? Not having seen it myself (and vowing never to spend a cent to do so), I can't attest to its quality. So far it's been called "repugnant" and "a two-hour plus torture-fest" -- not surprising given Gibson's gore-happy repertoire. But spurting blood and oozing entrails aren't quite as average fare for Disney, and the studio may have gotten more than it bargained (or bid) for. Perhaps attitudes towards Gibson can be summed up in the poster's contextually hilarious copy line: "No One Can Outrun Their Destiny." One can only assume the marketing team intended the irony.