In the earliest days of American cinema, there was no standards board determining what could, and could not, be shown to theatre audiences. Local authorities might, and sometimes did, ban or edit films they found to be against the public good. In 1859, for instance, “Dolorita in the Passion Dance” was removed from a Kinetoscope parlor in Atlantic City, NJ. In 1909, however, in response to increasing public demands for content standards, the studios began submitting their films to the New-York based Board of Censorship (which would later become the National Board of Review). The Board, which was made up of private citizens, screened films for objectionable content. The studios hoped that this form of self-censorship would both attract viewers concerned about exposing themselves, or their families, to inappropriate material, and forestall government attempts to control the burgeoning movie industry.
The studios had reason to be concerned. In 1907, Chicago had passed an ordinance allowing the superintendent of police to ban films he considered obscene. Film makers challenged the ordinance, but the Illinois Supreme Court allowed it to stand. In 1908, New York’s Mayor George McClellan closed all the movie houses in his city. They opened again within a few days, but the industry realized that it was in danger of disappearing, or at least of being silenced, if it did not appease that segment of the voting public which objected to sex and violence on the screen. The Board of Censorship was the first step in that direction. Within a few months, the Board could boast that it had screened 75% of the films being exhibited in the US. Many conservative groups considered the Board’s standards to be too lax, however, and continued to demand more stringent controls.
In 1916, the industry again attempted to appease the shrill minority demanding government action. There was a new urgency to its efforts, as the United States Supreme Court had denied First Amendment protection to movies in 1915. (Because the First Amendment would not be held to apply to state law until 1931, when Near v. Minnesota confirmed the Court’s statement in Gitlow v. New York that freedom of speech is “among the fundamental personal rights and ‘liberties’ protected by the due process clause of the 14th Amendment from impairment by the states,” a ruling in the industry’s favor would only have protected it from federal action, in any case.) The studios worked out a 13-point code, prohibiting nudity, graphic violence, immoral forms of sexuality, and unfavorable portrayals of governmental or religious authorities. Still the complaints continued. The studios, despite their soothing gestures, were still creating movies that offended, and certain vocal watchdog groups were still making their displeasure clear.
In 1922, in the wake of the “Fatty” Arbuckle scandal, the Motion Pictures Producers and Distributors Association was formed, with William Hays at its head. Hays’ first act was to ban all of Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle’s films. He made it clear from the beginning that the private lives of the stars were as much his concern as their on-screen exploits. For the next eight years, Hays fought an uphill battle against depravity in cinema. In 1930, though, the industry adopted the Production Code, known as the Hays Code, or simply the Code. In theory, every film made in the U.S. had to be approved by the Production Code Association. However, America was deep in the thrall of the Great Depression, and the studios feared bankruptcy if they showed only the safe, moral films which the Code would permit. Until 1934, then, the studios flouted the Code at every opportunity. Prostitution, crime, and even homosexuality found artistic outlet in the American cinema. In 1934, though, the economy improved, Congress grew more vocal in its threats to impose federal legislation on Hollywood, and the Catholic Legion of Decency threatened to boycott Hollywood films. Joseph Breen, a former journalist, took over the administration of the Code.
Breen was a devout Catholic who was unwilling to compromise his morals or the provisions of the Code, but who was always willing to work with the studios to see that their films could be exhibited. He lost some battles in the early days of his administration–three of Mae West’s comedies got past him before he gathered enough clout to ban her from Hollywood completely–but that soon changed. He scored one of his first victories against Tarzan and His Mate. In the original cut of that film, Maureen O’Hara’s Jane is skimpily attired, and her body double appears completely nude in the swimming sequence. MGM, the studio responsible for the film, appealed, but Breen’s decision was upheld. MGM made the changes he had requested, cutting or obscuring the nudity, and redesigned Jane’s costumes in the ensuing Tarzan films.
For three decades, Hollywood largely abided by the Code, although the studios did not always submit gracefully. And then, in 1966, Warner Brothers released Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? without the Production Office’s seal of approval. Jack Valenti, head of the Motion Pictures Production Association (MPAA) then as now, had been unable to broker a compromise over the artfully nasty portrayal of a disintegrating marriage. Just a few months later, MGM released Blow Up, which contained nudity and drug use, without the seal. The Code was, effectively, dead. The MPAA called a series of meetings with the National Organization of Theatre Owners (NATO), the Screen Actors Guild (SAG), and other industry organizations, and in 1968, a new form of self-censorship was unveiled. In place of the Code, which banned all films that failed to meet its standards, there was to be a ratings system, which would label films according to their content. The original system had just four categories (X–no one under 18 admitted, R–no one under 18 without an adult, PG–parental guidance suggested and G–general audience), in contrast to today’s five-tier system (NC-17 has now replace X, which was co-opted by pornographers, whose films are not usually submitted to the MPAA, and PG-13 has supplemented the PG rating, to indicate films which do not merit an R rating, but which may still be unsuitable for young children), but was essentially the same system that is used today.
Critics of the current system say that it is too subjective to be useful. The MPAA has published guidelines to the ratings, but refuses to adopt a standardized means for determining what films will receive which ratings. The government continues to threaten statutory restraints on film content, although First Amendment considerations would doubtless invalidate any federal censorship. And Hollywood goes on adopting content restrictions, which it then cheerfully ignores. In the movie business, this is business as usual.
Sources:
Chronomedia
Censorship and Propaganda in 20th Century Media, by Kristina Jelcic
The History Channel, This Day in Entertainment History, February 25
The Fourteenth Amendment–First Amendment II?
Roscoe Arbuckle: The Scandal
Undershirts, Scandals and a Depression
The Motion Picture Production Code of 1930 (Hays Code)
Pop Tarts: From Fallen Woman To “Pretty Woman,” Hollywood’s Love Affair With Hookers, by Peter Keough, from the Boston Phoenix, October 27, 1997.
Organized Crime, in the City and on the Screen
“Nitrate Kisses,” A film review by Linda Lopez McAlister on “The Women’s Show” WMNF-FM (88.5), Tampa, FL October 9, 1993.
A New Gangster: Censorship and the Hayes Office
Sins in Black and White, By Clarke Speicher. From The Review, October 20, 2000.
The Censors
A Tribute to Maureen O’Sullivan
Jungle Love: Tarzan Still Swings, by Stephanie Zacharek. From Salon, June 1997.
MPAA Ratings, at Home Theater Info.
More about the history of Hollywood:
Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood, Mark A. Vieira. A thoughtful exploration of pre-code filmmaking, combined with a remarkable collection of stills.