‘MoviePass, MovieCrash’ Is a Cautionary Tale About White Male Privilege

Liz Hafalia/The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images
Liz Hafalia/The San Francisco Chronicle via Getty Images
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Of the many villains appearing at this year’s SXSW Film Festival—from Alex Jones and killer computers to gentrification and a psychopathic Conor McGregor (and the dangers of eating too many breakfast tacos)—the ones in MoviePass, MovieCrash may be the most punchable. Okay, second-most punchable; Alex Jones belongs in his own circle of Hell. But audiences at this year’s fest had a grand ole time cheering on the downfall of Ted Farnsworth and Mitch Lowe, the selfish, hubristic, greedy, and downright bone-headed men who drove MoviePass into the ground.

Watching director Muta’Ali’s documentary, which premiered at the festival March 9 and will air on HBO later this year, was something of a bonding experience for audiences. What initially appears to be a more straightforward recounting of the once-promising subscription service’s catastrophic demise soon gives way to a deeper, smarter, much more rousing (and infuriating) story: that of two creative, ambitious Black entrepreneurs watching their dream unraveled by bumbling white men.

The short version of MoviePass’ history, as the doc relays in its opening minutes, teeters between piteous and pitiable. For those who don’t still have their red debit card tucked away somewhere, MoviePass was an ambitious concept that proved too good to be true: all-you-can-see theatrical movies for one low monthly rate. In 2016, the fledgling service grew from 20,000 subscribers to nearly 25 times that within weeks, thanks to an enticingly cheap promotional offer of $10 a month. By 2018, the company reached more than 1.5 million subscribers, who delighted in going to the movies as many times as they liked, all thanks to their little prepaid red debit cards. Wall Street looked favorably upon the company; CEO Lowe, whose resume included roles at Redbox and Netflix, and the highly suspicious Chairman Farnsworth regularly did the interview circuit, talking a (curiously) big game and earning good press for it; theaters saw attendance grow substantially.

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But keeping the company afloat with such low pricing for something relatively expensive—the average price for a single movie ticket in the U.S. is $9, with major metro areas reaching twice that—was nigh impossible. By 2019, after changing its pricing, tightening its theatergoing restrictions, and losing the faith and patience of subscribers, theaters, and investors, MoviePass declared bankruptcy.

That’s the way the news goes sometimes, especially in the world of entrepreneurship. And considering how comically and publicly MoviePass screwed itself on its way out—subscribers dunked on the service with spiteful glee, as it locked them out of almost all showtimes and changed its monthly fee at random—MoviePass, MovieCrash seems at first primed to be humorously nostalgic more than probing at untold angles. But after speeding through this history, Muta’Ali pulls back to reveal who really suffered from this loss, at once humanizing MoviePass and rewriting the narrative around it.

While Lowe and Farnsworth became the public faces for MoviePass at its height, the real minds behind the company were kept behind the scenes—and, eventually, taken out of the picture entirely. Stacy Spikes and Hamet Watt co-founded the company in 2011, joining forces based on their mutual experience in the entrepreneurial world and enthusiasm for the entertainment space. Spikes in particular had gained major credibility in a relatively short period of time ahead of kickstarting MoviePass: He’d been named senior vice president of publicity at Miramax before age 30, working on hits like Scream. He also founded the annual Urbanworld Film Festival, which spotlights work by Black artists and has become one of the country’s largest fests. It was his work on Urbanworld that got him interested in—forgive the buzzword—disrupting the entertainment space further, joining forces with Watt to revolutionize and liberate the moviegoing experience.

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Not only were Spikes and Watt partners on this innovative venture, but they are both Black men in one of many egregiously, near-exclusively white male spaces—a detail that informs their work and the story of MoviePass’ success and utter failure. Their passion for making movies more inclusive manifested in the company’s mission to democratize moviegoing too. Their dedication, diligence, and bootstraps-pulling work ethic helped MoviePass not only demonstrably grow theater attendance by more than 100% year-over-year, but it also helped foster a charming brand and family-style work culture. It was Spikes and Watt who came up with, and even patented, the company’s genius and trademark debit card functionality; it was Spikes and Watt who cautioned against slashing the prices too low, having the foresight (and general brains) that this could be the company’s death knell.

But the film’s various talking heads, like various former MoviePass staffers, journalists, and entrepreneurs (including Shark Tank star and mega-investor Daymond Green), speak openly about the uphill battle that people of color face in the world of venture capital. This reality makes what is already an infuriating story even more so: It’s one thing to hear Spikes talk about the heartbreak he felt after Lowe fired him from the company Spikes founded in 2018, following its acquisition by Farnsworth’s shady analytics firm. It’s another to realize that, in removing both Spikes and Watt from the company, Lowe and Farnsworth transformed MoviePass’ board into one made up of almost all white men.

MoviePass, MovieCrash is savvy in how it uses Lowe and Farnsworth as its villains from that point on. By re-contextualizing MoviePass as the story of Black innovation thwarted by reckless privilege, it makes MoviePass’ swift downturn delicious and even comedic for the right reasons instead of the wrong ones. Lowe participated in interviews for the documentary, and Muta’Ali often allows him to tie his own rope; when financial reports revealed that the company had lost $150 million in the year following Spikes and Watt’s dismissal, Lowe tries to blame it on the fact that he was going through a divorce. He regularly claims that he doesn’t believe he and Farnsworth made mistakes, and that Spikes was not “constructive;” then, the film cuts to experts breaking down just how ridiculous Lowe and Farnsworth’s business decisions were—how they overspent, overpromised, and screwed over the user base they overloaded in the first place.

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The audience at SXSW delighted in the film’s telling of Lowe and Farnsworth’s short-lived tenure. Not only were these the guys who decided to put money they didn’t have into John Travolta’s notoriously garbage film Gotti, but they even tried to start a MoviePass-branded airline venture. An infamous sponsored event at Coachella had Dennis Rodman decked out in company swag, shilling a product at a music festival that had nothing to do with movies for millions and millions of bucks. Lowe and Farnsworth were posting photos of themselves in Mexico and on yachts, partying it up with movie stars; meanwhile, Spikes and Watt talk about how their $80 million stock options rapidly dwindled at the same time. Lowe and Farnsworth prove incredibly easy to hate throughout this all, which the movie doesn’t outright encourage, but doesn’t dispute, either. For every bumbling failure Lowe and Farnsworth made, viewers jeered; for every time they faced the consequences, like financial analysts calling their business plan’s bluff and the press scorning them for MoviePass’ increasingly busted service, the theater erupted with cackles.

There’s a sweet sense of comeuppance that ends MoviePass, MovieCrash, one which the crowd damn near applauded. Lowe and Farnsworth were investigated for potential fraud in how they ran MoviePass, and both faced criminal charges. Lowe is awaiting trial this year. Another member of the board that Lowe installed, short-lived top-exec Khalid Itum, was recently found guilty of embezzlement through that infamous Coachella event. Meanwhile, Spikes was able to buy back MoviePass following its bankruptcy in 2021. Maybe the service won’t ever reach the same heights it once did—but that’s probably for the best. And if nothing else, Spikes and Watt can feel vindicated that the foolhardy losers that stole their company out from under them are crying their way to the bank, while the duo and their new fans can have the last laugh.

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