The Naked Truth
The 11th Hour staff bares all.
      by Sarah Kendzior

Mr. April, 2000: Jude Law

Over the last weekend -- that's June 2-4 2000, for those of you perusing the archives -- a sort of web war was waged concerning AICN's breach of journalistic ethics. The issue was the release of information concerning the casting of Jimmy Smits in Episode II (and if you think that topic is trivial, you've obviously not been traveling in geek circles too long), and AICN's slander and insult to the source of said information, Corona's Coming Attractions. Now the only thing that surprised me about this whole fiasco is, honestly, that Harry bothered to credit his source at all.

For much of mainstream America, Aint-It-Cool-News, and Harry, represents what online movie fandom is about. He's the ultimate case that anyone can run a successful website, and I, like many others, used to love AICN for those very reasons -- the informality, the humor, the snarky scooping of Hollywood big-wigs. I cheered when Batman and Robin crashed and burned, and I dug it when Barry Sonnenfeld had a temper tantrum after Wild Wild West drowned in bad internet buzz. I loved the idea of this 800-pound gorilla -- so to speak -- of a net geek screwing over the Hollywood establishment, until, that is, Harry became the establishment, and with him went much of the wonder of the web. I'm not just talking about the studio plant posts, the curiously positive reviews for strangely horrid movies, the sloppy design or bad writing. It's what he does to other sites, and how the mainstream press embraces it.

Mr. September, 1999: James Marsters

There is a strange balance of power between print and internet -- between a desperate need for authority and a inevitability of mediocrity -- that will likely dominate how movie fandom is viewed by the mainstream for years to come. No other internet movie writer is as well known as Harry Knowles, because no other is as typical of what people want to believe about the web. The incoherence, the false facts, the goofy charm -- this man is a threat to no one but the other, better webmasters who get screwed in the process. The 11th Hour has stayed mainly on the fringes of this, but I have friends who are in direct competition with AICN, and it's not pretty. There are many out there who seek to make the web a better place, a smarter place, for movie fans. This is not by following some snot-ass, hyper-regulated standards of journalism but by simply writing well, crediting sources, and being creative. I have no doubt that these rivals will rarely get their names mentioned in the pages of Entertainment Weekly or other mainstream magazines. Can't have real competition, after all. But Harry's a safe bet.

I know, I know -- this is supposed to be a nice anniversary piece, not a bitchfest about a guy who, honestly, did The 11th Hour one hell of a favor nearly a year ago. But AICN is something truly indicative of the frustrations of running an entertainment website in the post-Blair Witch era. Granted, 11th Hour has been pretty lucky -- we've gotten more media than most, especially considering our early relegation to "sci fi site for chicks." But the last year has brought a simultaneous drop in standards and creativity while the search for money -- for the next Harry, the next Blair Witch, the next upstart web fortune -- by internet companies has grown.

Mr. November, 1999: Glenn Quinn

Over the past year, The 11th Hour has been offered chances to share advertising, or join affiliate programs, by over twenty companies. The reasons why we haven't yet -- although we probably will -- have more to do with the fact that I'm stupidly babbling away about it on a publicly available article than anything. Sometime around late 1999, the web became completely saturated by money. Now, of course, it always has been -- I mean, porn, right? -- but I've got to say, it's worse than ever before, and some of these people are downright creepy. (Not most of them though -- got that, potential company number one?) I love the internet and, like a lot of people my age, owe practically everything to it. I met my boyfriend of nearly three years on a Millennium message board, and I've met some of the coolest people in the world (a.k.a., the rest of the 11th Hour staff) online as well.

So when I think internet, I get all these warm, fuzzy thoughts, and start reminiscing about that fight I had with Lisa about which font was sexier, Courier or Garamond, or about that time Linda offered me a virtual chocolate-covered Kevin Bacon. This is probably because, as aforementioned, I'm insane, but also, I'm beginning to think I'm the last of a dying breed. We started The 11th Hour, like, for fun. Really. We think getting no sleep on every night of the 10th day of the month for a year is fun. And sure, a lot of it really was fun -- we were on TV a few times, and got to hang out with hot genre guys on occasion, and important people kissed our asses. And yeah, we thought about ways to make money off of it as well. (The store, people! The store!) But that was never, and will never be, the bottom line. If ads clog up the loading time, screw up the design, or compromise our integrity in any other way, we're not going to have them. And when this magazine dies out after not making a cent, we'll probably hate ourselves for it. But you'll still love us, right? Right?

Because that, really, is the only thing that has kept us slaving away at 11th Hour over the past year, despite the decline of quality web sites and the rise of creepy corporate takeovers. From day one we received a tremendous response, and we still do today, for better (the majority of our readers) or for worse (oh Roswell fans, you knew we had to mention you somewhere!) We love you guys so much, even you weirdos who keep writing in asking us what brand of goggles Vin Diesel wears in Pitch Black. (We don't know, okay?) You help us forget how grueling it is to run this thing day in and day out (and if you want to see how hard it is for professionals, cruise on over to horroronline.com.) And your continued bafflement over the appearance of grammar, long articles, and strong, female-centered opinions remind us of why The 11th Hour was begun in the first place -- because, ya know, someone had to do a good sci fi/horror mag.

Mr. June 1999: David Boreanaz

So we'd like to thank our readers, just for being so damn cool. And we'd like to thank all the media outlets who promoted us, and the good sites, like Cinescape, Chud, and the whole Buffy fan base, who keep giving us links and promotions. And I think I'm going to be all corny editor-in-chief girl and thank the awesome 11th Hour staff for kicking ass and taking names over the last year. I honestly feel I work with the best web designer (Lisa) and managing editor (Linda) out there, and our writing staff -- particularly our great, prolific, inimitable Rachel Hyland, who I wish had been there from the first issue -- are incredible as well. I don't know where this magazine is going, or if it will be around next year -- although I suspect it will -- but this certainly has proved a most interesting venture for us all. It's one I don't regret, despite our collective lack of sleep and the numerous frustrations it has brought. I look at our puny little first issue and smile (in a wincing sort of way) at how far we've come, hoping only that I'll look back at this issue a year from today and feel the same mixture of embarrassment and pride.

While I'm sitting on a big pile of money, of course. And while I run The 11th Hour as my sole profession thanks to an anonymous wealthy benefactor. And when I'm not too busy ordering the 11th Hour harem of Bruce Campbell, Vin Diesel, Rodney Rowland, Russell Crowe, Kevin Bacon, James Marsters, and Glenn Quinn to carry out the various whims and fancies of myself and other 11th Hour staff members. As I said, suspension of disbelief, right?

We welcome your comments on The 11th Hour and this feature. Please send letters to: letters@the11thhour.com

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