I hesitate to add to a discussion which everyone may have considered
mercifully finished, but I waited a couple of beats for statements that
I expected to see--and which never appeared--on the "blockbuster" theme,
so I'll jump in again. It seems to me that one of the basic questions
was never answered--WHO decides what is or isn't a "blockbuster"
exhibition? As I am unaware of a blockbuster identification commission,
official or unofficial, I'd say the answer is, "it depends." In my
previous post, I said the term was relative. I might also say it's
hyperbole, especially media hyperbole. You may find the term in
newspaper reports, magazine reviews, etc.; the public may use it as
well, primarily because they read it someplace. But I guarantee that the
newspapers are not going to call an exhibition a blockbuster unless the
lines are long and it's the talk of the town. I think those factors
count the most, and that's essentially what people mean when they use
the term. Perhaps there are some who would not use it to refer to a
wildly popular exhibit which is small in scope, inexpensive to produce,
or wildly popular by accident rather than design (the so-called
"sleeper" phenomenon); there are others who may sniff that it's not a
"true" blockbuster if it isn't technically innovative. In my humble
opinion, it is pointless to try to assign specific characteristics to
the term "blockbuster"--to assume precision for a cliche which is
essentially just media hype.

A more relevant question concerns the intention behind blockbusters.
There's plenty of evidence to support the notion that most blockbusters
are planned by people who know what will be wildly popular and how to
market it to ensure success. However, my only stipulation for the word
is that it refers to results, not intent, and definitely not the means
or specific techniques. This means that the museum-going public, in the
final analysis, decides what is or isn't a blockbuster. If people aren't
flocking to see the show, it's not a blockbuster, regardless of what
techniques were used, how expensive it was to produce, how innovative,
how much international intrigue was involved, or who predicted it would
be a blockbuster. This word wasn't intended to connote precision of
measurement or description.

If Thomas Hoving was the first known person of prominence to apply
"blockbuster" to an exhibition, that's mildly interesting, especially
considering his position within the history of blockbuster exhibitions,
but I for one don't intend to worry about it (or research it). What
interests me more are the pros and cons of intentionally designing
"blockbuster" exhibits and their function in the history of museums. As
I once tried to point out with some thinly veiled sarcasm in a message
which recommended mitigating the unpleasant effects of blockbusters by
substituting replicas and facsimiles for the "real thing," there is a
substantial museum-going public which is vitally interested in seeing
original artifacts--which to me is the raison d'etre of museums--not in
viewing replicas, reproductions, copies, photographs, or digital images
of originals; not in reading interpretive text on a wall (which could be
more comfortably read in a book, catalog, magazine, article, or
brochure--or on a computer screen); and not "touring" a "virtual museum.

In short, it seems to me that the phenomenon of "blockbuster"
exhibitions (of original art and artifacts) validates the whole premise
of museums as places for the contemplation and/or enjoyment of authentic
historical and/or aesthetic objects. Unfortunately, it also demonstrates
that objects vary in their popularity and blockbustibility quotient. The
implications of all this are beyond the scope of this e-mail.

 --David Haberstich