Hoots And Howls at Ads

By Gerald Clarke

"The public is never wrong," proclaimed film pioneer Adolph Zukor, and on such wisdom Hollywood was built. Zukor's maxim is as sound today as it was when Rodeo Drive was just a furrow in a field, but now it is being challenged by what may be the most offensive idea since Smell-O-Vision: commercials in movie theaters and on videocassettes.

The 1987 cassette of Top Gun was the first film to carry a commercial plug (Diet Pepsi was the sponsor), but since then the tapes of a dozen or so other movies have hawked everything from candy bars (Moonstruck, Dirty Dancing) to Jeeps (Platoon). Though the just released cassette of Rain Man sells for no less than $89.95, its distributors, capitalizing on the vintage Buick that is featured in the film, put in an ad for -- you guessed it -- Buick. The otherwise splendid new release of The Wizard of Oz starts off with a one-minute Downy commercial.

Two companies are even adding commercials for local businesses, which include everything from pizza parlors to car washes; these ads are sometimes in addition to those already inserted by the studios. With the same kind of self-righteous growl a dog utters when a rival approaches his dinner bowl, Paramount, which started the phenomenon with Top Gun, has brought suit in a federal court in Wichita to stop such Johnny-come-latelies.

The gain for the studios is obvious. But what the sponsors hope to achieve is something of a mystery. Procter & Gamble, the company that makes Downy, will spend $8.5 million to advertise The Wizard of Oz tape. Yet, according to two surveys, at least two-thirds, and perhaps as many as nine-tenths, of all viewers push the fast-forward button when they spot an ad.

The trend is not confined to cassettes. Almost one-third of the country's 24,000 movie screens are also bombarding patrons with commercials. "We are purveyors of entertainment that sells," says Terry Laughren, president of Screenvision Cinema Network, the largest distributor of theater advertising.

But unlike the stay-at-homes, moviegoers who pay cash at the box office are captives, without a speedup button to zap the obnoxious spots. Many are starting to rebel, and hoots and howls are common when commercials flash onto screens in New York City, where ticket prices run as high as $7.50.

Moviemakers are among the loudest complainers. "Commercials cheapen the medium and put the audience in a bad mood before they see the film," says director Phil Alden Robinson (Field of Dreams), expressing the overwhelming reaction among producers and directors. A majority of theater owners still agree, refusing to turn their screens into billboards. "Our experience with commercials was very negative," says Gregory Rutkowski, a vice president of AMC Entertainment, which owns 1,700 screens across the country. "We tested them several times, and our customers told us that they won't stand for them. You can't underestimate the intelligence of the audience." To which Zukor would probably say, "I told you so."

With reporting by Elaine Dutka/Los Angeles and Stephen Pomper/New York