Popularity does not necessarily signify bad art. Shakespeare packed the Globe Theatre, 20,000 Viennese citizens turned out for Beethoven’s funeral, and even Virginia Woolf’s “The Years” was the sixth best-selling fiction book of 1937 (atop the list sits Margaret Mitchell’s “Gone With the Wind”).

Yet in some discussion of modern film, popularity has become nearly synonymous with the notion of a compromised artistic vision. How can a director retain artistic merit, or even a semblance of auteurism, if he or she spends $75 million of Harvey Weinstein’s money to make a film expected to gross twice that amount? In an age where a film’s marketing is of equal importance to the quality of the film, should we dismiss such blockbusters outright? Are they artistically compromised beyond repair from the get-go?

A brief discussion of the Weinstein’s and thus Miramax’s history elaborate on the resounding “No!” with which I respond to the above question. Miramax, which now gladly spends hundreds of millions of dollars on films like “Cold Mountain,” began by seeking out independent and foreign films for distribution in America. Among its earliest successes are Jim Sheridan’s “My Left Foot” and Steven Soderbergh’s “sex, lies, and videotape.” The latter accomplished nothing less than sparking the release of a profusion of art films, small independents and foreign films in the ‘90s.

The studio’s most recent hit is Yimous Zhang’s “Hero.” The release of “Hero demonstrates what is both good and bad about the state of the big-budget-blockbuster, and why such movies—save any of those directed by Stephen Sommers—are worthy not of our rebuke, but of our appreciation.

“Hero” is not only the most expensive film in Chinese history, but it also has the distinction of being one of few summer films to hold the top office position in North America for consecutive weeks. Somewhat surprisingly, while the film’s distribution rights were acquired in 2002, and it garnered nominations for a number of American awards in 2003, “Hero” nearly went unreleased in North America.

The film is structurally indebted to Kurosawa’s “Rashomon,” and draws many stylistic comparisons to the martial arts film Americans are perhaps most familiar with, Ang Lee’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” Shot by Wong Kar-wai collaborator Christopher Doyle, the film contains numerous spectacular visual sequences. Perhaps more impressive is the film’s release itself. A blockbuster film whose release was potentially jeopardized by Miramax, “Hero” was in effect saved by martial-arts aficionado, independent filmmaker turned box office force Quentin Tarantino. With his prodding, the film was finally released free of studio butchering after two years of delays.

While other summer blockbusters may fail to live up to “Hero’s” intriguing back-story, there was an ample supply of intelligent big-budget summer fare for even the most discerning viewer. Near the top of the list we find Sam Raimi’s “Spider-Man 2.” While the film offered perhaps a bit too much humanizing dialogue striving for poignancy, Raimi manages a delicate balance between campy humor—this is, after all, the man who directed the “Evil Dead” series—action set-pieces, and portrayal of a super hero’s growth. The addition of Michael Chabon as a screenwriter allows for a significant improvement in the dialogue of the film when compared to its predecessor. The film also captures two difficulties relevant to at least half of this campus: a college workload, and particle physics.

Certainly we all can identify with the challenge a college course load poses while one is trying to accomplish something super-human, perhaps composing an honors thesis or putting out the weekly campus newspaper, for example. Dylan Baker, as Peter Parker’s Columbia Physics professor, puts a face on this struggle during the pair’s interaction. And for those who have taken Professor Kim’s Contemporary Concepts, Alfred Molina’s Doc Ock’s haphazard fusion experiments allow one to marvel at the bastardization of the subject (cold fusion, anyone?) and simultaneously delight in the fact that it gets attention in such a picture to begin with.

In fact, Molina as an actor epitomizes the notion that a mainstream film or film actor can effectively play both sides, combining success with uncompromised artistry. Molina, while appearing on screens in the $150 million “Spider-Man 2,” could also be found in Jim Jarmusch’s compilation “Coffee and Cigarettes.” His segment wittily captures the very dichotomy being evaluated, when, while sitting over coffee with a long lost relative, his newfound cousin, played by Steve Coogan, is only responsive when he accidentally learns that Molina has important Hollywood connections.

This summer also saw one of the timeliest remakes of recent years, “The Manchurian Candidate,” a film whose source material is universally revered. When the project, its star (Denzel Washington), and its director (Jonathan Demme) were announced, I doubt I was the only one who was nervous about the film. Washington was coming off a series of horribly conventional, borderline absurd films—my 12-year-old cousin called “John Q” “really stupid”—and Demme had failed with “The Truth About Charlie,” his remake of “Charade.”

Fortunately Demme and Co. came through. “The Manchurian Candidate” was appropriately updated to reflect today’s political climate, replacing the original’s Cold War paranoia with a modern portrait of corporate greed. Rather than a politically motivated “sleeper” being placed in the White House, this summer’s “Candidate” posits Liev Schrieber (a Shakespearian stage-actor by trade) as a sleeper agent for the privately held conglomerate Manchurian Global. The film’s brisk pacing, solid cast—Washington’s Ben Marco is constantly on edge, a far cry from Frank Sinatra’s cold yet composed portrayal—are all informed by political overtones especially relevant in an age where the company formerly headed by the current Vice President can “misplace” $1.8 billion with few repercussions. While Paul Krugman’s New York Times editorial “The Arabian Candidate” illustrates what may have been the most relevant rearticulation of the original “Candidate’s”

themes, the late John Frankenhiemer, whose underrated “Seconds” expounds on these themes, would likely be satisfied by the updated version of his classic.

August brought the release of Michael Mann’s “Collateral,”” a film which blends a high concept thriller with an examination of an urban landscape, and also manages to find time for a quick “Macbeth” reference. Tom Cruise plays a serial killer, Vincent (perhaps the evil stepbrother of Vincent Vega from “Pulp Fiction”) who hires streetwise cabbie Jamie Foxx for the night. The film follows the pair as they attempt to navigate Los Angeles, Vincent’s hit list, Foxx’s apprehensions, and various complications.

The film is simply a series of developments or expansions on this premise, facilitating the film’s strengths and necessitating its weaknesses. For the first two-thirds of the film, the plotting is generally unanticipated or at least presented in an intriguing fashion (Mann precedes one hit with a lengthy discussion of Miles Davis). Unfortunately, the final third of the film descends into the realm of conventional summer fare, with predictable and implausible schemes evolving from the restricted concept.

Because of the centrality of this “concept,” a number of scenes appear to stand on their own, and Mann’s distinct vision gives these scenes a style which would allow them to exist independent of the rest of the film. While “Collateral’s” pithy foundation may inhibit it in this respect, it also allows Mann to fully explore his restricted environment with an innovative use of digital photography—its most effective use to date—underscored by a wide-awake Los Angeles cloaked in darkness.

“I, Robot,” a final example of the intelligent summer blockbuster, finds Alex Proyas directing a story “suggested by” Isaac Asimov’s series of science fiction novels. Proyas is most famously the man behind 1994’s “The Crow,” but more importantly, Proyas directed the dystopian “Dark City” which has rightfully found its following on DVD. “I, Robot” fully understands that it must play to both an audience seeking an intelligent, innovative presentation of a sci-fi classic and a summer audience seeking the latest Will Smith blockbuster. Multiple conversations highlight this struggle, as Smith, playing a cop, trades wits with Bridget Moynahan’s character, a psychologist whose job it is to make the robots seem more human. Proyas convincingly exhibits a world in which robots and humans live side by side, eschews convention (believe it or not, the antagonist isn’t the white male CEO), and asks a number of probing questions Smith’s “Independence Day” would not dare touch.

Despite these examples of semi-intelligent summer fare, detractors likely remain unconvinced. Perhaps a return to Miramax, specifically to Steven Soderbergh, will fittingly conclude my attempts. Soderbergh is 15 years removed from “sex, lies and videotape,” and his time has recently been occupied by “Ocean’s Eleven,” and its upcoming sequel “Ocean’s Twelve.” While this may cause fans of “Schizopolis” much distress, the project Soderbergh began after “Oceans Twelve” may provide some reassurance that his artistic vision remains uncompromised. Soderbergh is currently working on “Eros,” a film he co-directs with Wong Kar-wai and the 91 year old Michelangelo Antonioni.