Media Studies: On Control, Censorship, Self-determination and Whether The Mandalorian Will Ever Be Available on Blu-ray

Appointment television is no longer a thing. Most millennials would probably find the notion of having to sit down at a broadcaster-dictated time to watch a programme utterly preposterous, and they wouldn’t be far wrong. Even I, perched precariously on the cusp on middle age as I am, have only watched seven episodes of a show “live” in last couple of years (Line of Duty, obviously). Don’t get me wrong, if my phone pings to tell me that there’s a new episode of Better Call Saul on Netflix, I’m all over it that same day – but at a time when it’s convenient for me.

Above: The last stand of appointment television - BBC One’s Line of Duty.

Advances in streaming technology have kept pace with consumers’ demand for convenience, creating an extraordinarily low-cost yet extremely high-quality marketplace where viewers and listeners can access unprecedented amounts of content on demand. Assuming that you can afford to subscribe to most video-on-demand services and a single music one, you can feel just like a crewman on the Starship Enterprise, with almost the total sum of human culture only ever just a “Siri” or an “Alexa” away (or a “Computer”, if you don’t mind fiddling with your settings to get the full Enterprise effect, as I have).

 

Despite years of careful acquisition and curation, I haven’t listened to any music from my own iTunes library for a long time now. It’s all Apple Music these days, quick and seductive. Admittedly, this is largely due to me never getting the chance to listen to any proper music anymore (as my kids dictate the soundtrack to our lives), but, even so, pre-subscription (by which, of course, I mean pre-free six-month trial) I was throwing away endless £0.99s on some of the most vapid, jaunty tunes imaginable for the sprogs. I do miss the excitement of ripping the shrinkwrap off a new CD, though - almost as much as I miss choosing what I’ll listen to. Fortunately, with the marketplace as it is, I know that I could still buy an album if I wanted to (even one of The Mandalorian’s many, many soundtracks), and in the meantime I’m at least saving some wear and tear on my index finger and Apple Wallet.

Even books aren’t immune to the march of expediency, with the likes of Kindle Unlimited attempting to digitise the library experience, albeit with a tragically limited catalogue, and of course Audible serving as its audiobook sister service. There are also newer apps like Readly effectively compressing an entire newsagents (sans the top shelf) into a single app. It’s saved the missus a fortune on her disposable monthly magazines already - and the planet a fair few trees.

In the last forty years, rarely has a decade passed without one home media format superseding another, but never before has the media landscape changed so dramatically – and so fundamentally. In the past, music leapt from vinyl to CDs and back again as the coming of downloads transcended mainstream physical media altogether. There was some messing about with cassettes along the way – a form of piracy so feeble that it was tacitly accepted by just about everyone - and even some foolhardy business with MiniDiscs, but those of us who went down that dark path never talk about it. VHS was replaced by the much better and much cheaper DVDs and DVRs, which in turn found themselves quickly outmoded by HDD recorders and seemingly unbeatable 50GB Blu-ray discs. Yet the Blu-ray disc evolved to hold twice the amount of data so that it could carry 4K UHD video, and last year’s complete Game of Thrones box set pushed the bar even further still with the first triple-layer 150GB discs. In the background, satellite TV grew from a premium multi-channel service to a PVR that allowed its viewers to record, pause and instantly rewind live TV (which, I gather, impressed people who had yet to realise that it was live TV itself that was the problem – not one’s former inability to rewind it). Throughout all this, though, a single pattern held: people bought stuff. They owned it. Albums on CD. Movies on video. DVD box sets. iTunes downloads. Blu-ray steelbooks. 

Above: Watch in 4K HDR with Atmos sound on disc, or on NOW in “Full HD” (well, the frame at least might be 1080p...)

For years, we’d suffer through our favourite shows on the telly as they were carved up into four acts and interspersed with advertisements, only to later buy them on VHS or disc so that we could enjoy them unsullied by logos and ads, in far greater quality than when they were transmitted and alongside some exclusive bonus material. Now, though, once original content drops on a service, it’s available on demand indefinitely thereafter, and even if it’s not up to disc quality, the difference is imperceptible to many viewers. For the vast majority of people who’ve not invested in a 4K UHD Blu-ray disc player, 4K HDR streaming is sure to be a huge step up from what they’ve previously been used to. As such, to general consumers, the shift from broadcasting and home video to streaming is, obviously, an incredibly welcome one. But such convenience comes at a cost, even if it’s not necessarily financial.

Subscriptions to even just the most popular of on-demand services will make quite a dent in your monthly outgoings; however, when accounting for inflation it actually amounts to far less than many people will have paid for satellite TV packages and the odd DVD box set in the past, and in terms of quality there is no comparison at all. The best streaming services are now churning out critically acclaimed original movies and shows at a staggering rate, most of them presented in impressive 4K HDR and with decent (if lossy) multi-channel audio to boot, and of course each also boasts a varied – albeit apparently random, in most cases – back catalogue of historic content that can be viewed on demand.

Above: Netflix's Marvel Cinematic Universe shows have only a small presence on Blu-ray and digital in the UK.

No, the real cost of subscription services can’t be measured in pounds and pence, but rather in terms of their impact on collective fandom - and in particular the passionate nerd’s instinctive urge to further his/her/their own private media collection (they can never be complete). This issue has been quietly gathering steam for several years now, ever since Netflix stopped releasing their various “street level” Marvel series on home video (The Defenders has yet to see the light of day on disc, while later seasons of the peerless Jessica Jones and passable Iron Fist still aren’t commercially available at all in the UK), but the arrival of Disney+, with its new mainstream Star Wars and Marvel programming, has brought the matter to a T-visored head.

Streaming services not making their originals available to purchase is nothing new, of course, but as wonderful as, say, Ricky Gervais’ After Life, is, the prospect of not being able to own their own copy doesn’t send entire legions of people into the sort of rabid frenzy you might find a Star Wars devotee in when he/she/they realises that, having spent most of his/her/their life slavishly hoarding discs and tie-in merch, The Mandalorian won’t ever sit gleaming away on his/her/their shelf in a case hewn from molten beskar. 

But then I had a Mando taking his helmet off sort of moment. As I caught myself idly Googling “Mandalorian Season 1 Blu-ray release date” for about the eighth time this week, a few startlingly obvious truths hit me: 

(i) I could watch The Mandalorian again at any time on Disney+, which I’ve no plans to cancel as it continues to regularly bombard me with enticing new Star Wars and Marvel shows for a preposterously low annual fee; 

(ii) I don’t really want to watch The Mandalorian again at the minute; 

(iii) I don’t have time to watch The Mandalorian again at the minute; 

(v) I still haven’t got round to watching all of the Disney Gallery: The Mandalorian docuseries, which, from what I’ve seen, is of a much higher quality than most home video special features are these days.

(vi) I can no longer count using Roman numerals.

So why do I want to chuck fifty to sixty quid at an environmentally-unfriendly product that both technology and society at large have decreed is obsolete? Surely it’s not just for a shiny steel case? Wouldn’t that money be better spent on another year’s Disney+ subscription? Surely... this isn’t the way?

It’s a difficult question for even me to answer, and as such it’s easy to see why Disney executives have yet to commit to any sort of physical or digital release, particularly when they have to weigh the current exclusivity of their content (and the countless subscriptions that it yields) against any short-term financial gain to be made in making it commercially available in another form. Until this January, The Mandalorian was Disney+’s big poster show, and even with all the new Marvel series gradually assuming its thunder, I still believe that it’s their biggest draw. The two have become synonymous.

Whilst on our biggest TV and Atmos sound system, physical media does look and sound much better than purchased or streamed content (the bitrate of streamed 4K is often half of a 1080p Blu-ray’s and just a fraction of a 4K UHD disc’s, and much of Disney+’s content is limited to 5.1 surround - even the Star Wars movies which boasted Atmos soundtracks on last year’s 4K UHD physical release), the most honest answer that I could give is that I just like collecting media. I love holding it. Appreciating the artwork. Devouring the collector’s booklets. Knowing that I have the best possible version available to watch on demand without having to sign in and be force-fed cookies. Like the wealthy frittering away their millions on old paintings, it’s as much about ownership as it is appreciation. I like being a freeholder, not a tenant. This is the way.

Such abstruse motivations will be of little interest to Disney and Lucasfilm, though, and constructing a practical argument for home video releases in the 2020s becomes incredibly difficult indeed when you consider that, in no time at all, better technology will close the gap in quality between digital and physical content. I can’t even hide behind the old, “My Internet is rubbish” argument anymore because I’m on KC’s best Lightstream package. Though pricey, it is insanely fast and efficient - I’ve had more power cuts in the last year than I’ve had buffering issues. Likewise, whilst I’ve always been quick to lament the shoddy housekeeping of many streaming services – episodes presented in the wrong order (BritBox...), or with the wrong thumbnails (BritBox...), or with metadata so riddled with typos and inaccuracies that it would never have got passed the VPRC (Amazon, Netflix, NOW, BritBox, Apple TV+...) – I certainly can’t level the same complaint at Disney+, which not only boasts a beautiful interface with regularly refreshed, stunning 4K artwork (check out the new May the Fourth images, if you haven’t already), but also appears to take reasonable care when it comes to tagging. Even bonus material – yes, Disney+ movies boast “Extras” of the type once exclusive to home video releases, not to mention specially commissioned docuseries for all of its flagship shows – is neatly presented and nicely tagged under a separate tab. Hell, I can’t even whinge about The Simpsons being the wrong shape anymore as Disney+ lets you choose to watch the episodes in their original aspect ratio, if you prefer, remembering your preference so you don’t have to opt-out of the bastardised versions every time.

Above: Rest in peace, DVD extras?

In the early days of streaming, you’d hear horror stories about content suddenly vanishing – something that shouldn’t happen with media that you own (unless you lend it out to unreliable friends... or get burgled... or accidentally scrape scissors across the surface of a disc, as, unaccountably, a lot of people seem to do). Yet, even with licensed third-party content, most providers now give ample warning on when a movie or series will leave their service, and such things are, to date, unheard of with a service’s original programming – and it’s only such content that I’m concerned with here. A lot of older films and programming may be destined to forever float between services, but “originals” should have the same sort of permanence as if they were burned into a disc on a shelf.

Or so I keep telling myself.

Above: Remember when The Simpsons used to start their seasons with episode 2? No, I don’t either.

 
Yet one or two things give the cynic in me pause. The control freak in me that won’t concede a single decision to anyone else recoils in disgust when he remembers that someone, somewhere high in the echelons of Disney decided that The Simpsons’ third-season premiere, “Stark Raving Dad”, was too controversial to be hosted on Disney+ after two men accused guest star Michael Jackson of sexually abusing them when they were young boys. Now I loathe censorship in all its forms (and, needless to say, sexual abuse / harassment too), but I particularly take umbrage with people who are unable to separate an artist’s work from their personal life and, rather than simply boycott that artist themselves, they try to force everyone else to do so too. Yet watching “Stark Raving Dad” is no endorsement of Michael Jackson or his alleged wrongdoing; it’s enjoying The Simpsons. Watching The Mandalorian doesn’t mean that you agree with Gina Carano’s contentious social media posts, or the opposing philosophies of her woke co-stars for that matter. Entertainment is supposed to be an escape from all that shite - quite literally escapism.

Above: Carasynthia Dune - not Gina Carano, the actress who played her before she annoyed the Internet.

But herein lies the danger: when content lives exclusively on a streaming service, it’s vulnerable to the whims and caprices of corporations and their perceptions of viewers’ sensibilities, which - Mary Whitehouse excepted - have never been more sensitive. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to see half the Russell T Davies era of Doctor Who vanish from wherever it currently resides just because Noel Clarke is facing allegations of sexual harassment and John Barrowman is rumoured to have to got his cock out a lot on set. Fortunately for me, every potentially “offensive” episode of Who is steel-clad on a disc on my shelf, and so I couldn’t care less about its online fate, but were Disney+ ever to revise or remove The Mandlorian, there’d be no way for me to see it again, or at least see it again as it exists today. And let’s face it, the franchise has got form on this front: just look at the number George Lucas did on his original Star Wars cut, and that was years before both streaming and hypersensitive consumerism. The only copy of the original Star Wars movie that I own stands all of 326 pixels tall on a letterboxed and pillarboxed DVD, and even that took some hunting down.

Above: Poor Mickey the Idiot. Likely to be struck from the public record just for looking like a young Noel Clarke.

I also find streaming very limited in a practical sense when measured against both discs and purchased digital media. As if punishing subscribers for having spent the late nineties and much of the noughties stretching and compressing the people on their screens using every ill-conceived means that their hefty old widescreen CRT tellies provided them with, most subscription services now lock their content in a 16:9 frame irrespective of its live dimensions. Whether it’s a film in 2.35:1, an old show in 4:3 or a modern programme in any of the dozens of fashionable aspect ratios in between, streaming services’ apps lock out your options to zoom in on the image, which is a real pain if you’re trying to watch a 2.35:1 movie on a 4:3 tablet or small 16:9 TV or phone. With discs (and iTunes purchases, for that matter), you can zoom in as and when you please - on an iOS device or an Apple TV it’s a simple as a double-tap. Streaming services rob you of a useful choice with one hand, and with the other give you an option to watch things at the wrong speed. Infuriating madness.

Above: Well that’s gym night ruined. So much for the upcycled dumb TV / Apple TV 3.

Worse still is my inability to watch subscription content where I want to. I have a repurposed third-generation Apple TV (the version before they integrated the App Store) in my gym plugged into a 40” dumb TV which I use primarily to watch iTunes purchases, and in theory should also be able to mirror video content to from my iPhone or iPad. But - you guessed it - the Disney+ app blocks me from mirroring downloads to it. As does BritBox’s. And Amazon’s... With streaming services, it all has to be on their (often poorly thought-out) terms. And so the debate on physical media isn’t necessarily about tangible vs intangible, or even renting vs ownership, anymore - it’s all about self-determination. All about control.

And so will The Mandalorian ever get a home video release? Or WandaVision? Or The Falcon and the Winter Soldier? Or The Bad Batch? Or the final seasons of The Clone Wars and Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD? I certainly hope so, for the reasons outlined above, but my feeling on the matter is that over the next few years the last vestiges of physical media will disappear like the Jedi after Order 66. Like Yoda on Dagobah, certain high-end, specialist releases may endure for a while as the video connoisseur’s equivalent to vinyl, but I’m not especially hopeful given the apparently poor sales performance of even recent 4K UHD steelbooks. A couple of years ago, pre-orders would sell out within hours of a release being announced, whereas today, Zavvi are still struggling to shift last year’s stunning “Skywalker Saga” 4K UHD steelbooks even having slashed their price (just £24.99 a chuck now, if you’re interested). The main reason we don’t have Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Star Trek: Voyager on Blu-ray is because CBS spent a fortune painstakingly remastering Star Trek: The Next Generation from its original film elements, only to find me and fourteen other fans waiting to buy it. We must remember that markets are consumer-driven, and passionate fans only account for a small fraction of mainstream sales.

Above: Warner Bros and DC continue to support home video with the Snyder Cut on 4K UHD Blu-ray.

Some will take comfort in the fact that many similar franchises (DC, Star Trek) still make their original content available to purchase on home video (and, in DC’s case, surprisingly rapidly after the shows have dropped on HBO Max, The CW, EPIX or wherever), and, indeed, in most studios continuing to release their made-for-cinema movies on home video - Disney chief amongst them. This is still precarious, though, as the COVID-19 pandemic has driven a wedge between studios and cinemas that leaves a question mark over the future of the industry. More importantly, though, we must note the differing practices of Amazon and Netflix: Borat Subsequent Moviefilm is still jailed behind Amazon’s subscription paywall, and while Netflix did, mercifully, eventually release El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie to buy, it was only on Blu-ray and digital HD – you still need your Netflix subscription for the definitive 4K HDR version. If we do ever get a Mando release, then, it will probably be a downscaled, vanilla edition and at a point in the future when it has either stopped working as an effective lure for new subscribers or Disney+ has enough exclusive content not to worry about such things (by which time, home video releases could effectively serve a taster for potential Disney+ subscribers... assuming that they are not as dead as a MiniDisc by then).

Above: Amazon, obviously, don’t.

If you are reading this article, then you’ve almost certainly asked Google whether The Mandalorian is available on Blu-ray and so probably have as keen an interest as I do in keeping home video alive. I therefore ask you this: if it ever does materialise on disc, please buy the damned thing; Hell, get your mum one for Christmas too. Because one thing is for certain – Disney certainly won’t be releasing any more of their streaming exclusives on home video if no sod buys it.

You can subscribe to Disney+ here for either £7.99 per month or £79.90 per year. 

BritBox is still offering a short free trial which you can sign up for by clicking here. Thereafter it’s £5.99 per month or £59.99 per annum (just as Disney+ was before it incorporated STAR as a mandatory part of the package for all its subscribers). 

Netflix aren't offering free trials any more (they finally learned...) and they charge double what Disney+ does for 4K HDR, but you can still sign up here if you fancy it. 

I’m five months into a twelve-month Apple TV+ trial and I would only recommend two shows - Ted Lasso and For All Mankind - but if you think it might be your bag then you can start your own free trial by clicking here. 

Amazon Prime is only worth bothering with for Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (Star Trek: Picard is available in much, much better quality on Blu-ray). Just watch Borat next time you order something and find that they’ve tricked you into your nineteenth free trial of Prime.

Apple Music are still offering three-month free trials. You can sign up here. The service costs £9.99 per month thereafter which is slightly more expensive than other similar services, but I haven't tried them yet so couldn't comment on / recommend them.

Readly comes highly recommended from both the missus and the kids. I'ts cheaper and greener than endlessly buying and recycling magazines, and you can get a staggering six-week trial by clicking here. The service costs £7.99 per month thereafter.

You can start a thirty-day free Audible trial (and get a free audiobook) by clicking here. The service costs £7.99 per month thereafter and entitles you to one audiobook per month. Your books are yours to download and keep, even after you cancel your membership, and, despite their DRM, are compatible with iTunes. It's much cheaper than buying audiobooks through Amazon (the prices of which appear to be deliberately inflated to drive you to Audible), but still more expensive than buying audiobooks through Apple Books if you use CheapCharts to keep track of price drops.