“You dream in a language I can’t understand. It’s like there’s this whole place inside you I can’t go” - John Magaro’s Arthur in Past Lives
Celine Song’s directorial debut, Past Lives (2023), is a film that moved me immensely on my first watch. From the masterful cinematography and stunning soundscapes to its prompting of unsettling questions on fate and migratory culture, the story of star-crossed lovers resonates with immigrants and natives alike. Nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, its critical success was a testament to the metaphysical bond that connected the story to its audience, a phenomenon perfected by the New York-based film studio A24.
Founded in 2012 by David Fenkel, Daniel Katz, and John Hodges, A24 has revolutionised filmmaking, metamorphosing from an unknown indie distributor into a global blockbuster powerhouse, while staying true to its core value of originality in the stories it produces.
Its contemporary approach to cinema has yielded a staggering run of success, from Midsommar’s trope-defying horror and Marty Supreme’s aggressive advertising to the anxious chaos of Uncut Gems and Minari’s quiet commentary on family. Behind the scenes, however, what is it about A24’s rise that has cemented authenticity as Hollywood’s most valuable commodity? Let’s delve into the studio’s business model and creative operations to find out.
A24’s structure as an entertainment business embodies the concept of vertical integration. Whilst other major studios outsource film distribution and/or production to independent third parties, A24’s operations branch through the entire film lifecycle. From initial financing and identifying amateur talent to distributing in cinemas and home media, the studio brings novel ideas to your screen.
Whilst firms like Disney have embodied vertical integration: owning production, distribution, streaming (through the Disney+ platform), and even theme parks and cruises, A24 exploits its unique structure differently. Whilst Disney aims to maximise returns on existing intellectual property across a plethora of revenue streams, A24’s integration amplifies individual filmmaker vision. Directors can differentiate their art from homogeneous Hollywood blockbusters as they aren’t tied to conditions from private equity financiers, producers, distributors, or other stakeholders.
This approach has led to A24 operating as a firm that more closely resembles one in monopolistic competition, enabling it to survive in an oligopoly film industry driven by unforgiving giants. A24’s artistic authenticity, therefore, cannot be easily replicated.
This creative liberty that this approach facilitates is unprecedented in the obsolete traditions of Hollywood. Directors are incentivised to create their best with complete artistic autonomy that attracts the epitome of filmmaking talent. An A24 film is uniquely theirs, even at the expense of higher upfront salaries (representing lower costs for the studio).
This approach enables the studio to accomplish two major feats. The first is significantly lower costs, operating with a low overhead and a specific artistic brief. Most A24 films are low-mid budget, costing around $20 million and targeting particular demographics for guaranteed viewership. The second is maintaining their objective of original cinema, to serve a community ranging from cinephiles to ordinary people exhausted by formulaic Hollywood reboots.
A24 doesn’t just sell individual stories. It sells itself in a unique brand identity that attracts critics, amateur cinephiles, and casual moviegoers simultaneously. Some films remain unmarketed, going under the radar but still turning a profit. Others, like the recent blockbuster Marty Supreme, feature extreme stunts that drive digital virality.
Timothée Chalamet’s persona as an actor, the streetwear jackets gifted to celebrities, and an advertising leitmotif of orange ping-pong balls were all hallmarks of Marty Supreme’s individual marketing. An article could be written on just the elegant success of this approach.
Combine this with pop-up A24 merchandise like streetwear brands, and the hedging offered by the AAA24 membership program against box office volatility, and the studio’s brand has established itself as the face of modern filmmaking. It is therefore no wonder that its films are subject to such success.
The Academy Award winner for Best Picture in 2017, Moonlight, was financed, produced, and distributed by A24. It also won Oscars for Best Adapted Screenplay and for Best Supporting Actor, along with a Golden Globe and 6 Spirit awards. It exploded through stereotypes, doing all this for the first time with an all-black cast and LGBTQ+ theme.
To say this was a success is a vast understatement. Its raw representations of queer black masculinity and repression captivated audiences: A24’s directorial independence defied any ideas of censorship of the powerful messages it conveys. Its trope-defying emotional depth resonated strongly with contemporary audiences.
Barry Jenkins’ film grossed over $65 million worldwide, despite being made on a shoestring budget of $1.5 million. Its marketing represented an archetypal A24 strategy: released first in only four theatres, and leveraging social media to engage with the communities it aimed to represent. At its peak, it was a global cultural phenomenon that far exceeded anyone’s expectations for a niche and potentially controversial story.`
Frankly, this wouldn’t have been possible in conventional Hollywood settings without the modern magic of A24’s structure.
Some labelled Moonlight’s resounding success a one-hit wonder. So A24 replicated and even exceeded its success with Scheinert and Kwan’s Everything Everywhere All at Once, demonstrating the paradigm-shifting scalability of their filmmaking model.
The film was a gamble. It cost $25 million to produce: peanuts in comparison to Marvel blockbusters, but risky for an indie. It epitomised extrospective, maximalist storytelling, resonating with the chaos and uncertainty experienced by younger demographics in a digital setting.
This in-your-face story of multiversal absurdism became A24’s highest-grossing film, earning $143 million worldwide and shattering records. It coupled this with critical acclaim: Oscar-winning performances by Key Huy Quan and Michelle Yeoh, Oscar-winning direction, Oscar-winning everything. It swept the ceremony with 10 Academy Awards, including the coveted Best Picture that Moonlight had held mere years prior.
It evidenced the potential of A24’s niche approach, even at a large scale, rivalling traditional blockbusters. It showed that audiences were hungry for authentic work that disrupted the status quo. A24 was officially the poster child for contemporary cinema.
From a theoretical economic standpoint, A24 was doomed by its inefficiency. Excessively expanded through the movie lifecycle, with each production an investor’s high-risk gamble, it seemed impossible that such an extraordinary take on filmmaking would remain sustainable, let alone have an impact on the industry.
But A24 has proved that perspective wrong. Its accumulation of immense cultural capital, developed through unprecedented auteurial work, facilitates a fanatic brand loyalty for its productions that transforms artistic passion into profits.
To continue thriving as its influence grows, A24 needs to avoid dilution of its strong brand. They cannot allow their films to settle amidst the ordinary. They began as an experiment, and it is this very essence that they must preserve.
Arthur in Past Lives may have struggled to empathise with the Korean perspective of his wife, but audiences today can find many of their core beliefs beautifully illustrated by an A24 production, providing an incomparable escapism from the encumbrances of modern life. Now enough writing. I’m going to watch a film.