Rating the Rating System

This story is rated GP; general readership permitted, parental guidance advised.

Since 1968, a four-letter alphabet has symbolized a loose moral order imposed by the American film industry on the moviemakers. The rating code is a self-defense mechanism designed to forestall Government interference. The letters Americans see affixed to their movies are really The Word according to Chairman Dougherty--Eugene ("Doc") Dougherty, 52, who has been snipping scenes since 1941 and now heads the Code and Rating Administration. Although Dougherty and the ten board members who serve with him have generally won the praise of exhibitors and the gratitude of parents, there has been increasingly vehement criticism that the categories G-GP-R-X are just so much alphabet soup.

MGM has announced it is quitting the Motion Picture Association of America, under whose aegis the rating board operates. MGM President James Aubrey describes the code as "confusing and impractical." New York Theater Owner Walter Reade calls it "our Volstead Act" and wishes it the same end. There are even defectors from the censors' ranks. Stephen Farber, 27, a film critic who quit the board after a stormy six months, says, "Pubic hair and breasts, that's what they're worried about."

It sometimes seems that way. Not only Farber but other critics in and out of the industry are often mystified by the board's assessments of the relative immorality of sex and violence. Last week the Film Commission of the National Council of Churches and the Catholic Office for Motion Pictures announced withdrawal of their backing because they found the ratings unreliable. They cited several films, including the recently released 10 Rillington Place--a clinical examination of the career of a mass murderer--that had been rated GP (general admission, parental guidance advised). Other examples of the raters' art:

P: A sleazy horror film called Count Yorga, Vampire contained even more than the usual quota of gore, including a sequence in which a pliant young woman has an orgasm while a vampire sucks blood from her neck. The board wanted to rate the film either R (anyone under 17 restricted unless accompanied by parent or guardian) or X (forbidden entirely to those under 17 or, in some places, 18). The studio agreed to cut some of the bloodier footage and finally won a GP rating. What remained under the GP label included a shortened version of the jugular orgasm and one character eating a cat.

P: A recently completed movie on the hard-drug scene called Clay Pigeons got a fast X, largely for using a four-letter word and several scenes of full female frontal nudity. Novice Director Tom Stern removed most, but not all, of the nudity and obscenity. The rating was changed to R. Stern tried for a GP, but the board balked at a bloody ax murder.

P: Woodstock received an R, presumably for some scenes of nudity and scattered obscenities. The result was that some kids who went to the festival by themselves needed their parents to get into the movie. Gimme Shelter, a documentary about the Rolling Stones, also received an R originally, but was given a GP after the distributor excised a few familiar expletives from the sound track.

Sex, Violence, Drugs. The late, unlamented Motion Picture Production Code (abandoned in 1966) was a stern compilation of specific commandments. It dictated that all adulterous characters must be punished for their passion by the final fadeout. It prohibited nudity, swearing of any kind and "open-mouth kissing." The new "code" has no specific restrictions or regulations. The rating board weighs a film's theme, language and visual treatment largely in secret, paying close attention to sex, violence and drugs. Its members will not speak publicly about their decisions. Farber says: "There is a long tradition of not talking about what they are doing. Gene Dougherty has a great deal of sway, and things sometimes never even come to a vote. He'll just say to a company, 'If you cut this scene, we'll give you a GP.' "

The seven board members in Hollywood and four in New York arrive at a consensus decision on each film after it has been viewed by most of the members. They have no permanent staff of psychologists, psychiatrists or behavioral scientists to consult. There is one child psychologist on the board, but the other members come mostly from a legal or picture-business background; six of the eleven are over 50. The applicant can accept their ruling, edit the film to get the rating he wants, or carry his case to a 25-member appeals board. All M.P.A.A. members must submit their films; movies not submitted can be shown without a rating, but most exhibitors prefer to show films that have been rated.

The system is bedeviled by other problems besides sex and violence. Many newspapers will not advertise or review X movies; recently, both newspapers in Albuquerque refused even to carry ads containing the title of an R film, The Baby Maker. Even the rating board changes its mind: Midnight Cowboy, originally awarded an X, was re-rated R more than a year and a half after its release. Many exhibitors, rigorously observing the system, hire guards to check identification. Others, anxious for the extra revenue, simply look the other way as the kids stroll into the theater.

Even with its shortcomings, the system has its defenders. They include Charlton Heston, longtime president of the Screen Actors Guild, who calls attacks on the system "sophomoric," and Jack Valenti, the former Lyndon Johnson aide who helped create the code when he became M.P.A.A. president. Says Valenti: "As long as we satisfy 60% of the moviegoing public, that's a good batting average. Where I think we have failed is in being able to communicate what GP means. What we rate on is what we think parents would want their children to see." And what is that? Speaking approvingly of a rating appeal in which MGM won a GP instead of an R for Ryan's Daughter, he harks back to the old code: "I feel that judgment was correct. Everyone in the film who takes part in adultery comes to a horrible end. It was a beautiful picture."

Eyes Open. The rating system also gets the support of many men who run theaters where urban anonymity cannot shield them from the wrath of parents. Says John Thompson, a Georgia theater owner: "I can't see every movie that goes into my five moviehouses, but I try to see a substantial part of any controversial movie. I still get a lot of playback from close friends."

With their eyes on the perpetual poll that goes on at movie box offices, many film companies have quietly changed their line, adopting production schedules including no X movies and damn (or darn) few R ones. "It's just good business sense today to make only Gs and GPs," says Samuel Z. Arkoff, chairman of the board of American International Pictures. His company has deserted the previously profitable motorcycle and horror genres in favor of remakes of Les Miserables, A Tale of Two Cities and Camille. All three are fit fare for the family trade. Arkoff is not alone in his judgment that there is a backlash against explicit sex on film. Even freewheeling New York City Distributor Donald S. Rugoff admits to hesitation over an R rating. "I never bought a film before with ratings in mind," he says, "but I do now. The hassle just isn't worth it."

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