Prior to the mid-'60s, the moviegoing public was fixated on one element of flimmaking: the stars. All attention was directed towards the people on the screen, those human chameleons acting heroic, romantic, tenific, or malefic.
In recent years the stars have faded. Sizable cults now worship the writer, the
director, the sinister effects specialists who create Freddy Krueger and drive
Arnold Schwarzenegger nuts on Mars.