Today, the Production Code that policed morality in motion pictures from 1930 to 1968 looks like plain old censorship. By modern standards, the rules governing suggestive content, controversial subject matter and vulgar language in American cinema appear stuffy and prudish, not to mention unconstitutional. Will H. Hays, the head of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) –– the precursor to the current Motion Picture Association of America –– during Hollywood’s golden age, has long taken the rap as the villain behind the code. But outside of film history buffs and those who have researched industry arcana, few realize that Hays was actually just a figurehead, more concerned with New Deal era politics than the minutiae of big screen regulation. In Hollywood’s Censor (2007, Columbia University Press, 427 pages, U.S. $29.50), author Thomas Doherty debunks the popular misconception that Hays was Tinseltown’s watchdog, revealing that the real man behind the curtain was irrepressible Irish-American Joseph I. Breen. Although he is all but forgotten to history, Breen exercised vast control over the motion picture industry, with an influence in standardizing world thinking that was likened to “Mussolini, Hitler, or Stalin” by Libertymagazine, a trade rag of the day. For better or worse, it was Breen and his staunchly conservative tastes that scrubbed the silver screen of sex and blasphemy. The Production Code was instituted for a variety of reasons. By the early 30s, talkies had revolutionized the industry and were pushing the boundaries of what was deemed acceptable in the media. Doherty, who often takes the side of the censors, describes the period of relative screen freedom preceding the Code as a time when “trigger-happy gangsters, wisecracking dames, and subversive rebels, male and female, ran wild through the lawless territory of American cinema.” Sound had opened the floodgates to the possibilities of spoken vulgarities and a whole new level of innuendo. Women’s Societies and Temperance Unions, as well as Catholic and Protestant organizations were scandalized by the new raciness of the movies, and they weren’t afraid to lead boycotts. Censor boards in religious enclaves like Catholic-heavy Chicago and Baptist-laden Atlanta were having a field day banning movies. With box office numbers at a low, the entertainment industry was discovering that it was not immune to the Depression. By the time Breen arrived in Los Angeles in 1934, the religious zealots, Hollywood producers and the Roosevelt administration were all, for once, in agreement: the system needed a major overhaul. Will Hays, a former post-master general under the Harding administration, had attempted to institute a method of industry self-regulation in 1930 through the MPPDA, but his attempts were impotent, due to a lack of government backing and industry clout. It wasn’t until the government interceded in an attempt to revive dwindling audiences, that the Production Code Administration (PCA) was created. Breen, a former journalist, public relations man and bureaucrat, had made a name for himself as one of Chicago’s prominent Catholics. During the 20s and 30s, Chicago was, paradoxically, a gangster haven and Catholic hub. Due to its booming population, the city’s censorship board actually wielded a good deal of power over Hollywood. If a film was banned in Chicago, chances were it would not be a box office hit. Being a squeaky-clean Chicago bigwig with an understanding of PR and the way the film industry operated, Breen was the ideal man to head the PCA. When Breen took the helm at the PCA, Hollywood got the renovation conservatives were looking for. Breen and his staff “vetted storylines, bluepenciled dialogue, and exercised final cut over hundreds of motion pictures a year.” The PCA had government backing, and those who did not comply V I D E O • A G E JU N E 2 0 0 8 12 B o o k R e v i e w Hollywood Drama Behind The 1930s Production Code with the agency’s “suggestions” were fined $25,000, the equivalent of approximately $300,00 in today’s money. Breen’s censorship was ruled by four key principles: the sacredness of the bonds of matrimony, the suppression of “things of the flesh,” the veneration of women, and the respect for authority. The PCA staff considered these standards to be sacrosanct, and the code was constructed to enforce them as strictly as possible. The most amusing portions of the book outline some of the code’s more ridiculous regulations. In addition to the obvious rules governing sex and profanity, all foreign words had to be translated into English, babies in diapers were classified as “bathroom humor” and forbidden, and even showing a cow being milked was deemed too provocative for impressionable audiences. Needless to say, Breen was a thorn in the side of the lion’s share of Hollywood writers, directors, and producers. Getting script approval from the PCA was an arduous process that often spanned many months. One anecdote recalls legendary director Alfred Hitchcock’s first run-in with Breen, during the pre-production of the film Rebecca. Any movie involving a murder was always judged a “tough nut to crack” by the agency, and commanded extra attention. Thus, the approval process of Rebecca limped along at an infuriating snail’s pace. When asked to comment on his battle with the censors, a jovial Hitch responded, “Breen wants Rebeccato die of cancer, and I want her to be shot with a gun.” Hitchcock’s attitude was not the norm, however. Filmmakers chafed under Breen’s regulatory hand. Yet despite grumbling from producers, the Production Code did give the box office a much-needed jolt. Churchgoers returned to the movies and stern Chicago opened its movie house doors to anything with its golden boy’s stamp of approval. Doherty catalogues the upside of the Production Code with enthusiasm. It saved films from the over-critical eye of local censors and boosted ticket sales. Additionally, the Code provided filmmakers with a set of regulations under which they could better hone their art. The Code called for an increased subtlety in screenwriting that is all but unheard of today. Gone is the subversive sexual tension that lies just below the scrubbed surface of a Code-approved Billy Wilder or Frank Capra film. The sheer inventiveness of the films that were forced to disguise sexuality, bawdy humor and violence appears masterful alongside today’s outright scatological box office hits. Still, Doherty’s insistence that the PCA was an ingenious system of “selfregulation,” rather than censorship, or even propaganda, comes off as suspect. Joseph Breen may have been a good guy who was just doing his job, and Hollywood may have even benefited from the PCA in the short run. But Breen and his ultraconservative cronies were still responsible for enforcing a system of draconian and oldfashioned regulations that crippled artistic expression in America for decades. ES
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