In summary:
List of Asylum's films
http://motherboard.vice.com/blog/why-there-are-so-many-terrible-movies-on-netflix
More in-depth article about how Asylum makes its movies:
http://www.psmag.com/culture/escapes-from-the-asylum-60701/
- Asylum's biggest customers are Netflix, Amazon, Red Box, Blockbuster and of course Syfy. So they get paid by these companies to pump out movies based on what their data says consumers want, without much thought given to quality. They try to cover multiple needs in one film: "If a Japanese DVD company wants a submarine, and Blockbuster needs a monster, the Asylum will make a sailors-meet-sea creature movie, then tweak the concept further to sell to all its potential platforms."
- It makes services like Netflix seem like they have more content than they would have otherwise.
- The shameless copies like "Transmorphers" have equal shelf-space on Netflix. They sit right next to each other, but one movie cost $200 million while the other cost less than $1 million.
- Some customers may settle for the shameless copy in the absence of the real one, which helps out Netflix if they can't license the real one.
- They purposely anticipate the threat of lawsuits and use it as free publicity, then slightly change the name and poster art to avoid the actual lawsuit.
- "For a typical film, the Asylum floats a concept to its stable of writers. They blast back a slew of 100-word pitches. [Asylum chooses a writer's concept], he bangs out a draft in 10 days, then hands it off to a producer; revisions are made, then the Asylum shoots the film, fast."
List of Asylum's films
http://motherboard.vice.com/blog/why-there-are-so-many-terrible-movies-on-netflix
It’s finally happened: I’ve run out of things to watch. The blockbuster hits and grand Oscar-chasers and addictive TV shows are on summer break, and I’m left scraping the bottom of the Netflix barrel on sleepless nights—a bleak rabbit hole of cheap, made-for-video b-movies. Why are there so many god-awful movies on this site?
A recent Pacific Standard article gives a glimpse into the answer—a peek into the strange world where Big Data and low-budget movie studios collide. The article profiles Asylum, the infamous "mockbuster" rip-off movie studio that churns out content on a shoestring budget based on what will sell, paying no mind to what's actually good.
Netflix is one of Asylum’s regular buyers, along with Red Box, Blockbuster, Amazon, and others. And it buys the whole shebang. It scoops up every new release and has the studio’s entire catalog available.
And Netflix doesn't just stop at licensing new releases. In a sense, it’s influencing their being made in the first place. Netflix provides Asylum with data on what its users are interested in, and the studio obliges.
“It’s not like we said, ‘There aren’t enough crappy B-level movies out there, so we must corner that market!’," Asylum co-founder David Michael Latt told Pacific Standard. "We don’t really know the consumer. The consumer is too big and too fractionalized. All we know is we’re making a film for Netflix, and they tell us what they want.”
Netflix is getting good at predicting what people want. It knows what each of its 35 million subscribers is watching, for how long, and whether they liked it. It spots trends by analyzing the millions of categories movies and shows are tagged with, to predict the customer probably wants to watch, say, Critically-Acclaimed Gritty Movies Based on Real Life.
It also hands that information, or at least part of it, over to Asylum, which returns the favor with a steady stream of data-informed sleaze. "Netflix doesn’t just stream films—it wills them into existence," reported Pacific Standard. In other words, by enjoying Jaws and Twister, I may have accidently willed Sharknado into existence.
In fact, streaming sites like Netflix are what revitalized the struggling b-movie industry. For years, Asylum’s bread-and-butter was “mockbusters,” knock-off versions of successful blockbusters hits turned around in a month, for under a million, with amazing rip-off titles like Snakes on a Train and The DaVinci Treasure.
Even in the analog days, genres and concepts were tested on buyers before the movie was produced to make sure there was consumer demand. Streaming made this model work even better. One, websites could collect loads of data and feedback instantly. Two, sites need easily and constantly available b-movies to beef up their libraries, making it look like there's a lot of content, and new stuff arriving all the time.
Three, the mockbusters (or "tie-ins," as the studio is trying to rebrand them) can ease the sting, and capitalize on it, when users search for a title that isn’t available. Looking for Transformers? Maybe you’ll settle for Transmorphers instead. The licensing deals Netflix has with the major film studios and networks are always in flux, and b-movies serve as filler flix.
http://motherboard.vice.com/blog/why-there-are-so-many-terrible-movies-on-netflix
More in-depth article about how Asylum makes its movies:
http://www.psmag.com/culture/escapes-from-the-asylum-60701/
For a typical film, the Asylum floats a concept to its stable of writers. They blast back a slew of 100-word pitches. If the Asylum chooses Horton’s concept, he bangs out a draft in 10 days, then hands it off to a producer; revisions are made, then the Asylum shoots the film, fast.
In 2-Headed Shark Attack, “Carmen Electra is a doctor,” Horton tells me with a mix of glee and disdain. The question is: For the love of God, why?
“The short answer is: We don’t know,” says David Michael Latt, the Asylum’s co-founder and head of physical production, who pushes as many as 25 films into production each year. “It’s not like we said, ‘There aren’t enough crappy B-level movies out there, so we must corner that market!’ We don’t really know the consumer. The consumer is too big and too fractionalized. All we know is we’re making a film for Netflix, and they tell us what they want.”
...
Today, the dynamic between low-budget producer and content-hungry distributor has flipped. Netflix doesn’t just stream films—it wills them into existence. The composition of contemporary B movies is dictated by middlemen like Netflix and Redbox, international direct-to-DVD distributors, and cable networks like Syfy, all of which pad their offerings with Asylum originals tailored to their needs. If a Japanese DVD company wants a submarine, and Blockbuster needs a monster, the Asylum will make a sailors-meet-sea creature movie, then tweak the concept further to sell to all its potential platforms. The nimble creative process is “cashing in on this shifting moment in film consumption between the demise of the video store and the rise of streaming,” says Davis.
At surviving brick-and-mortar stores like H. Perry Horton’s, renters gravitate toward the big-studio releases shelved at eye level. But on Netflix, “You click through and see all the titles—new Hollywood releases mixed in with direct-to-video,” Davis says, all crammed into a grid of thumbnail posters. Filtering in low-budget films with the high-budget versions “fuels this perception that there’s a wealth of new content.” And in the endlessly filterable world of Netflix, where your preferences are sorted into hyper-specific genres, a full page of results for horror films with nightmare-vacation plotlines makes you feel like Netflix is tailoring its product just for you. “The bottom line is that it’s there, and you saw it,” Davis says—even if you didn’t actually watch it.
When Latt runs down the list of the Asylum films slated for production in the first half of this year, it sounds like a list of hot-button search terms: zombies, sharks, haunted houses, talking dogs. It’s almost as if the Asylum doesn’t even have to make the movie—but it does, for “just a little bit less” than what they will collect from the Netflix-Redbox-Syfy group of middlemen who are likely to buy it. It doesn’t matter how unwatchable it is.
...
If the Asylum’s films are naive camp, its marketing strategy is all deliberate. “It’s a parody of the studio system,” Latt says. “We’re making fun of the commerce side of this. You made your movie for $200 million? I’ll make it for 20 bucks.”
Consider the Asylum’s line of “mockbusters,” designed to ride the coattails of the zillion-dollar publicity pushes for big-studio films. When DreamWorks studios came out with Transformers in 2007, the Asylum raced out Transmorphers. When Columbia Pictures released Battle: Los Angeles in 2011, the Asylum countered with Battle of Los Angeles. When mockbusters trip legal threats from the big studios—and they usually do—the Asylum will fuss with the cover art and change the titles to pacify the lawyers, then thank the studios for throwing more publicity their way.
When the Asylum caught legal heat last year for planning to release a low-budget fantasy DVD called Age of the Hobbits the same week Peter Jackson’s three-hour epic hit theaters, it changed the name to Clash of the Empires, then released a statement that said: “We continue to believe that this frivolous lawsuit was filed to divert attention from the adverse publicity and poor reviews received by ‘The Hobbit’ movie.”
Whenever a studio points out that the Asylum’s films are too similar to its own, the Asylum is there to remind the studio the similarities actually run a lot deeper than they think. The big studios are also selling viewers the same concept-driven shlock—they’re just funneling a lot more money into it. As Horton puts it: “Battleship is a $200-million film based on a board game.” And when the big publicity push is over, Battleship will be sitting right next to the Asylum’s shoestring-budget American Warships in the Netflix queue. Which movie looks stupid now?
Their business model is fucking genius. People search Netflix for these big budget popular movies (which are usually NEVER available for streaming) and Asylum's shitty knockoffs pop up in the search results instead.
And tons of people get duped, the user reviews on these are great.
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Battle of LA is a movie that everyone needs to experience. Truly something special
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