The new edition of this seminal work takes the story of the Production Code and motion picture censorship into the present, including the creation of the PG-13 and NC-17 ratings in the 1990s.
In film today, anything goes but that was not always the case. In 1934 the Production Code (known as the Code) came into effect as the censorship enforcing arm of the Hayes Office. It came to be as the outcry from political, religious, and conservative groups that put pressure on Hollywood to "clean up the movies", since pre-Code films didn't leave a lot to the imagination. As one can imagine, it was less than popular with the studios and producers and they fought it tooth and nail.
This book deals with the ways that the studios tried, and sometimes succeeded, in ducking the Code, and the long and tedious process of trying to get a film released. The denial of a Code seal was the death knell for any picture that even hinted at things that were forbidden by the rules of the Code. And those things were, frankly, ridiculous. For example, even a married couple could not be shown to sleep in the same bed.
It examines various films and the deletions that had to be made: The Postman Always Rings Twice; The Outlaw; Gone With The Wind and several more. David O. Selznick won a small victory with his inclusion of "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn"in GWTW but had to make other cuts to achieve it.
This is an interesting look at the Code years but there are sections that drag on and on and are rather dry and boring. A great addition to this history is a copy of the Code in the Appendix. If you don't get a laugh out of it, I would be surprised.
Back in the 1920s, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (precursor to today's MPAA ratings board) created the production code, a list of Dos and Don'ts which Hollywood then promptly ignored. By the 1930s, William Hayes with help Joseph Breen forced Hollywood to play along (more or less) for the next twenty years.
The Dame in the Kimono is a brief look at the history and people behind this era of Hollywood filmmaking. For the most part, it is a rather dry biography of Joseph Breen's career. The films chosen are obvious choices and very little in the way of true analysis or ground breaking research is revealed in this book. For someone looking for an introduction into the subject, The Dame in the Kimono is a decent foundation. More familiar readers can skip the book or spend a couple hours breezing through it.
Finally made my way through this, which has been on the shelf so long that it's the original 1991 pb, and the pages are yellowed. Things do drag a bit toward the end--apparently the new ed. takes things much further forward, whereas this one just kind of lurches to a stop in the midst of a ratings system that sorta kinda worked. But the negotiations/dialectics among the Legion of Decency, the PCA, the studios, and the public were fascinating, especially since I'd had this notion of the PCA as just dictating policy. Which it did, but there was a lot of give, a lot of give-and-take, and constant pressures from elsewhere to loosen up--the influx of European films, especially the neo-realists; the decline of attendance after the mid-40s and the rise of TV; changing religious morality (I had no clue that the Legion of Decency's membership shifted in such liberal directions); feisty directors who wanted to put their visions onscreen unchanged, or changed at least as little as bearable; court decisions that ruled local content restrictions a First-Amendment violation; and of course changing social mores that rendered the 1920s small-town Protestant morality encoded in the Code increasingly backward. But there were at least sporadic moments of real artistic debate about what needed to be shown and why.
The book is structured around flashpoints, ranging from the ludicrous to the, well, sometimes decently well-thought: the class issues and politics of Dead End, which I've used in class when talking about how freely Depression film could address the crisis; the "damn" in Rhett Butler's famous retort to Scarlett O'Hara, which occasioned far more fighting than I would have expected; whether or not you could intimate that the son stops to pee on a wall, and that the hunt for the bicycle leads the protagonist into a brothel, in The Bicycle Thief; how to handle and punish the amorality of The Postman Always Rings Twice; Lolita, just in general. And Jane Russell, who became famous before she ever appeared in a movie, and was subject to what I assume is the first advertising campaign to so nakedly, shall we say, focus on on thing--not just The Outlaw, but a later Hughes film, also cynically marketed, that flopped. Also, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, also just in general.
Well worth reading as a study of the intertwining of art, commerce, and censorship, and a slightly nostalgic vision of an industry that, along with its greed for profit, at times did want to think about the impact of its product.
Plenty of personality and conversational style accompany this encyclopedic chronology of the ratings system in American cinema. This, on the author's part--not on his boring subjects. The only thing lacking is more characterization of the studio heads and film-makers over the squares like Breen and Hays and Valenti, who attempted to wrestle the gigantic octopus of film content from the 30s through the 60s. William Wyler gets a few choice pages. The fascinating parts cover the various films. It's hard to believe that in the Sodom and Gomorrah of today's Internet-Streaming cesspit, back in the day appointed men--all men--actually regulated kissing and how hard a punch could be thrown. And "perversion" could extend to how messy sets and locations looked in a slum drama. The censors, themselves, and the Catholic church, not surprisingly, come across as boring prudes who rarely went to see the movies. A few notable figures provide some depth, like director Otto Preminger, producer Howard Hughes, and Mae West, whose raunchy comedies caused more stir (and made more money) than is imaginable nowadays.
A thorough history of the Production Code Administration along with a handful of case studies showcasing how changes were brought about in the industry and eventually led to the I doing of the Production Code.
This book is a great take on the history of Hollywood and the censorship it faced from it's beginning to the current day rating system we use.
From the involvement of the Catholic church in film approval, the so called Seal of the Church to the production code and Mother Fucking Will Hayes. Its the entire story, well written and engaging.
lee grieveson, watch your back: here's a real, interesting take on the production code and hollywood. this book is fresh and fascinating. added bonus: the production code is in the back, so you don't have to guess what the book is talking about.