For actors switching screens, artistry is measured in dollars

Even so, there are several recurring mysteries in the world of entertainment, among them why people leave good television shows to make bad movies.

The latest poster child would be Julianna Margulies, the Emmy-winning “ER” star currently appearing in “Ghost Ship,” in which she plays a salvage team leader whose crew happens upon a haunted boat.

The timed-for-Halloween release grossed a respectable $11.5 million over the weekend, finishing third at the box office, but the critics were not kind. The Times’ Manohla Dargis observed that the actors are not “called on to do much, and all comply accordingly.” Daily Variety suggested that however the film opens, “word of mouth will ensure a short theatrical voyage.”

Without venturing too far out on a limb, it seems safe to say the film doesn’t measure up to “ER,” from which Margulies checked out in 2000 -- saying she felt her character had gone as far as she could and that she wanted to explore different roles -- despite a $27-million offer to stick around for three more seasons.

This isn’t meant to pick on Margulies, since any number of TV series regulars, sailing the choppy seas of the multiplex, have learned the hard way not to quit their day jobs.

Pat Faulstich, a bright fellow who runs his own literary agency, captured this phenomenon some time ago in a missive to friends that he called his “Ten Commandments of Hollywood.” Although not limited to actors, Faulstich’s sixth commandment astutely observed, “The best job you’ll ever do is the one just before the job you’ve always wanted.”

In other words, for actors who abandon hit TV shows, they will likely never have it as good again, commercially or creatively, as they did on that one success.

Tim Allen, who headlined one of TV’s biggest hits of the 1990s in “Home Improvement,” provides another timely reminder. The comic’s uneven feature flight path comes full circle with this weekend’s release of “The Santa Clause 2,” a sequel to Allen’s biggest live-action hit, which happened to debut when his TV series was at the height of its popularity.

Consider too the cast of “Friends,” as the world waits breathlessly to see if the six stars will grant NBC a stay of execution and agree to another season. No such suspense surrounds the prospect of sequels to their mostly forgettable roster of films, the latest being the Matthew Perry vehicle “Serving Sara,” which exited theaters with all the speed of a Barry Bonds homer.

Of course, Sherry Stringfield has since returned to “ER,” proving that in television, you can go home again. Ditto for David Caruso, who acrimoniously left “NYPD Blue” early in the second season, made the refund-worthy films “Kiss of Death” and “Jade,” then survived a short-lived TV show before finding renewed life in “CSI: Miami.”

“I mishandled the ‘NYPD Blue’ situation quite handily,” Caruso conceded to reporters in July, sounding grateful to be back on television. During the intervening years, he added, “I’ve had a number of opportunities ... to grow up and realize what has been provided for me.”

Not that feature film pedigrees ensure triumph on the small screen. Director Michael Mann, for example, whose credits include “Ali” and “The Insider,” has found capturing viewers Friday nights to be considerably more difficult now -- as the mastermind of CBS’ ratings-challenged new drama “Robbery Homicide Division” -- than it was when he produced “Miami Vice” in the 1980s.

To be sure, plenty of stars have deftly used television as a springboard to movies and enjoyed considerable success on one level or another, from John Travolta, Tom Hanks and Bruce Willis to Will Smith, Jim Carrey and Adam Sandler.

The galling aspect of this transition in recent years, however, is actors’ obligatory insistence that jumping to movies is about creative growth and commitment to craft, not money. Because if you inject truth serum into their agents or managers, with a few rare exceptions (Margulies did walk away from a major payday), it’s almost always about money.

Put simply, films generally pay more and ask performers to work less -- the kind of math even a cynical columnist could appreciate, despite the obvious hardship that reducing my workload would inflict on adoring readers.

Certainly, no one needs to apologize for wanting to earn more working less, but let’s not cloak a rational business or life decision under the mantra of artistic fulfillment. Kudos to Smith for making a splash in movies since leaving “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” but it’s hard to argue that mediocre films like “Men in Black II” and “The Wild, Wild West” are so much more creatively rewarding.

Charlie Hauck, whose credits range from “Maude” to “Home Improvement,” succinctly explained TV’s inferiority complex vis-a-vis movies a few years ago.

“Features are bigger. It’s a big screen. They win,” Hauck said. “In terms of what’s on television versus what’s in feature films, television can hold its head proudly -- even hold its head above.”

This is especially true if you compare the quality level of many current prime-time dramas against the films in which many former TV stars have found refuge, as mainstream filmmaking increasingly succumbs to a blockbuster mentality that places more emphasis on explosions than on dialogue.

Again, you can hardly blame TV actors for wanting to be “movie stars” in the larger-than-life sense of the term, with all the attendant perks. It’s only when they cite a dedication to artistry as the reason that they at best sound disingenuous and at worst evoke the image of being unable to hold their heads up strictly because of the oversized chips on their shoulders.

Brian Lowry’s column appears Wednesdays. He can be reached at brian.lowry@latimes.com.