David Carr in the NYT takes a look at that speech by former Miramax prez Mark Gill. The talk, you’ll recall, was a whinefest about how there are too many movies being made—5000 a year, with 600 getting some sort of theatrical release in the U.S. (Gill didn’t cite his sources; Hitsville’s comments on it are here. Gill’s prepared remarks are printed here.)

For reasons that are unclear to me, Gill thinks these figures are bad news, and so does Carr. But the impression of crisis the story leaves—through the use of works like “grim,” “carnage,” etc.—remains, as I wrote, misplaced. The only people for whom these figures are discomfiting are established indie film producers, like Gill, who don’t like all the competition.

The classic American problem in the culture industry is corporate hegemony. Three networks, a few film distribution companies, your local newspaper, Time, Newsweek, Life magazine—these institutions, back in the day, controlled access to virtually all film availability for the vast majority of Americans. The advent of cable, and then the VHS age, and then the DVD one, and now Netflix and the web, have exploded that hegemony, hopefully for all time.

The flaw in Gill’s reasoning—and of those who have been parroting his words—is that no artist has the right to an audience. They have a right to access to an audience. The current state of affairs is an ideal one; the artists are able to create the work they want, and there are distribution channels open to them.

For example, Carr writes:

Last year, I hosted a public interview with Sidney Lumet, the legendary director who made Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead. It was an amazing film, with stars like Philip Seymour Hoffman and Marisa Tomei. But someone in the audience got up and said that after he recommended it to all his friends, they couldn’t find it anywhere.

Why? Too many little movies waiting their turn, projects financed by private equity folks looking for their little piece of tinsel and a place to store money.

The film had every advantage it needed—a high profile showing at the New York Film Festival and great reviews. The only reason the movie flopped is … people didn’t want to go see it! In that situation, what’s supposed to happen? Should exhibitors facing empty houses have left the film showing; should Congress have passed a law ordering people to go see it? Sidney Lumet got to make his movie, he got his gala spot at the NYFF, he got reviewed in every major U.S. city. It’s now out on video, and anyone who didn’t get to see it in the theater can watch it at home. What’s the problem here?

(And by the way, it wasn’t an “amazing” movie. We’re not talking about Bergman, here: It was a decent genre exercise, a fairly smart crime thriller, with nudity, stark violence, everything needed for a hit. It didn’t become one because a) it wasn’t that good and b) because a genuinely amazing movie dealing with similar themes, only worked out in a truly transcendent way, was released almost at the same time: No Country for Old Men.)

Anyway, this expansion has made it hard if you are one of the people trying to make money in this brave new world, even if you’re a cool guy who used to work at Miramax. But tough shit. Gill is like the guy in the SUV on a backed-up freeway who wants everyone else to stay home. Couldn’t he really make a statement if he volunteered stop making movies himself?