Too Long, Too Little: When Films Overstay

This year, whilst presenting the award for best director at the BAFTA Awards, Hugh Grant exclaimed, “Oompa Loompa, doompity-dong, most of these films were frankly too long.”  My immediate reaction was, “Damn, Hugh, you are so right.”

These days, it feels like going to the cinema requires a time commitment of at least two hours, if not more. And it’s not just a feeling — the numbers back it up. On average, the length of a film was 143 minutes in 2023, compared to 122 in 2011, 117 in 1991, and 110 in 1981. We are thus faced with a slow but steady increase in length that does not seem to be stopping.

Although I am the kind of person who would be willing to move into a theatre and live there permanently, I sometimes wonder: is such length necessary? Does a longer film essentially mean a better one?

Several factors contribute to this trend. One of the most significant is the association between long films and high artistic value. Many cinematic classics, like Gone with the Wind, Giant, and Lawrence of Arabia all exceed 200 minutes. Similarly, most Oscar-nominated films since the 2000s have surpassed the two-hour mark. Highly awaited blockbuster films such as The Avengers and The Lord of the Rings trilogy regularly run close to or over three hours. In this way, for filmmakers and audiences alike, a long film is equivalent to a serious, or at least important one.

What, on the other hand, have short films always been? Animated films are often wrongly regarded as childish, romantic comedies considered frivolous, and horrors seen as mere entertainment. Short films are thus associated with a lack of substance or intellectual value. This, of course, is not true, as cult films like Whiplash and indie productions such as Palm Springs demonstrate that brevity doesn’t compromise depth or impact. Instead, it usually means that the movie is better paced and more cohesive. But it is no surprise that many directors and production companies prefer to make longer films, aiming for the prestige and attention that comes with a greater runtime.

If extended runtimes were consistently used to develop complex characters and intricate plots, there would be little to critique. After all, cinema history is filled with masterpieces that justify their length. Unfortunately, much of today’s runtime seems padded with unnecessary references to other films, cultural trends, or self-indulgent artistic flourishes meant to showcase directorial prowess rather than enhance the story. This is the case with films like Deadpool and Wolverine and the fun but disappointing Beetlejuice 2, which mostly played on pop culture references and nostalgia. 

It is true that these two elements can create dialogue with the audience, making them feel involved in catching the various easter eggs and interpretations. At the same time, however, these unnecessary references are aimed more at creating hype and buzz — demonstrated by films’ overpowering marketing campaigns — than a quality product. 

That being said, growing frustration with long films may also stem from our declining attention spans, exacerbated by the over-consumption of social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram, which demand short bursts of our attention. Streaming services also allow us to pause, rewind, or even speed up films, and the popularity of TV series has conditioned us to consume media in bite-sized episodes. Have we lost the ability to focus for an extended period without distractions or control over the content?

There is a dissonance between audiences and film production. On the one hand, our attention spans are reduced. On the other, films become longer but more full of distractions and ways to easily entertain audiences. Movies and their growing runtimes have adapted to please a society less and less able to deal with complex creations, yet wanting constant and superficial engagement. Cinema no longer seems to be driven by a need for storytelling and meaningful escapism, but by an increasingly narcissistic desire to become the next big headline.

Illustration by Hannah Beggerow