This predilection for applause from peers helps to explain Hollywood’s odd addiction to R-rated material — despite abundant evidence that aiming at restricted, adults-only audiences works against the industry’s obvious self-interest. Nearly 10 years ago, I began arguing against the conventional wisdom that suggested that big studios emphasized graphic sex and violence in order to maximize their profits. Research for my best selling book Hollywood Vs. Americaindicated that R-rated movies, on average, performed far worse at the box office than family oriented fare.
In June, 2000, a professor of economics at the Institute for Mathematical Behavioral Sciences at the University of California, Irvine, completed a major scientific investigation of the accuracy of my claims. Dr. Arthur DeVany concluded: “This paper shows that Medved is right: there are too many R-rated movies in Hollywood’s portfolio.” Their sophisticated mathematical analysis, covering all major releases of the last decade, show that R-rated films fare more poorly than “G, PG, and PG13 movies in all three dimensions of revenues, costs, return on production cost, and profits.”
Nevertheless, during the past ten years Hollywood has only increased its self-defeating infatuation with edgy offerings — upping the percentage of unprofitable R-rated releases from 50% to nearly 65% of all titles opening in the U.S. In other words, the sex, violence and vulgarity perpetrated by so many movie executives and creative personnel not only makes them bad citizens, as politicians proclaim: it also makes them exceedingly bad businessmen.
Anyone who questions this proposition need only look to contemporary Hollywood’s curious compulsion to offend its audience. In countless films and TV programs, the entertainment industry goes out of its way to attack and alienate significant segments of its potential audience.
Consider the kinky year 2000 thriller, The Cell, with sultry Jennifer Lopez as a psychotherapist who risks her life and sanity to enter the mind of a twisted, comatose serial killer. Smart, sexy, fearless, compassionate and successful, her character stands out as a role model for a new generation.
Why, then, did the filmmakers find it necessary to provide a fifteen-second scene showing their peerless heroine relaxing at home, smoking a marijuana joint? This is neither an accidental nor an incidental inclusion, and there is no doubt that the character inhales. Other than providing a free plug for the Pot Growers of California, the scene serves no purpose — the plot makes no further reference of any kind to her recreational drug use. Why, then, would the movie makers decide to associate so glamorous and admirable a character with an illegal substance considered dangerous and destructive by many Americans? If some studio honcho had spotted this quick image, objected due to its impact in undermining anti-drug messages from parents and teachers, and removed it prior to the film’s release, who would have noticed? It’s hard to imagine that any audience members would have felt cheated because they failed to see their favorite star smoking dope.
The same movie contains another element that pointlessly assaults the sensibilities of tens of millions of potential patrons. The sadistic serial killer in The Cell (chillingly well-played by Vincent D’Onofrio) flashes back to the origins of his psychic torment, and focuses particularly on the moment of his baptism at age six…
(Look for Part 2 of Michael Medved's column in tomorrow's The Edge.)
(e3mil columnist Michael Medved hosts a nationally syndicated daily radio talk show that focuses on the intersection of pop culture and politics. You can contact him or read his weekly movie reviews at www.michaelmedved.com.)
The top show business companies, meanwhile, cheerfully ignored these pleas and kept serving stiffer and more outrageous does of raunch and gore in their cinematic, television and pop music products. As an excuse for this edgy material, industry moguls invariably offered the same reassuring line: “We just give the public what it wants.”
In other words, the leaders of the entertainment establishment consult their marketing studies and focus group and come to the conclusion that the American people want more sex, more violence and more harsh language. Meanwhile, the leaders of the political elite consult their polling data and focus groups and come up with the conclusion that ordinary citizens feel sick and tired of Hollywood’s “cultural pollution” and want more wholesome and family friendly entertainment.
Ironically, both sides to this debate live and die based on their ability to gauge the attitudes of their fellow citizens. A politician who consistently misreads the values and desires of the electorate will soon find himself voted out of office. You might also assume that an entertainment executive who regularly disregards the preferences of the public would quickly lose his job — but this common sense notion ignores the twisted logic that drives some of the most powerful princes of Holly-weird.
Some of the most prominent directors, stars, writers, even studio heads, persistently and proudly assault the sensibilities of ordinary moviegoers, and yet survive and flourish in topsy-turvy Tinseltown. Consider, for example, the extraordinary career of Martin Scorsese. He’s directed some 19 films and not one of them — no, not one — has become a substantial box office hit. His most recent offering, Bringing Out the Dead, starred Nicholas Cage as a delusional ambulance driver in the nightmarish New York underworld — and became one of the most notable commercial flops of 1999. His other most recent offerings, Casino (about Las Vegas corruption) and Kundun (about the Dalai Lama), also drew pathetic box office returns. Perhaps his most notorious bomb, The Last Temptation of Christ offended millions of traditionally minded Christians and generated well-publicized protests around the world — while earning a paltry $6 million in domestic gross. Even his acclaimed signature films, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and GoodFellas earned only modest returns on their investment, despite the critical praise and Oscar nominations they generated.
Despite this track record, Martin Scorsese remains one of the most powerful directors in the motion picture industry: the most glamorous stars yearn to participate in his projects and the leading studios compete to sponsor them. A puzzled observer might well ask, “Why?” If Hollywood analyzed his work in purely commercial terms, considering merely return on the investment, Scorsese would have been forced into retirement long ago. Yet he continues to produce prestigious projects because his colleagues respect him as an intensely gifted, artistically uncompromising filmmaker. The horrific, chillingly rendered violence, loveless sex and gutter language that characterize most of his films may help to alienate millions of movie goers but they only add to the luster of his industry reputation as a cutting edge artist, worthy of support.
Scorsese’s anomalous situation serves to illustrate Hollywood’s dirty little secret: peer respect matters more than box office success to many industry insiders. Of course, pop culture potentates want to make millions and hope that each new project will turn into a commercial blockbuster, but if forced to choose between pure profitability and artistic acclaim, most would go with the applause of their colleagues. By the time they’ve achieved enough prominence to begin making their own creative decisions, actors, directors and other prominent personnel have earned enough money so that the size of their paycheck isn’t their first concern. Instead, industry veterans passionately pursue good reviews, respectability, and serious esteem — providing reassurance to the nagging insecurity that often accompanies the artistic temperament.
Winning prizes — particularly the most important awards in an award-crazy industry — has become an overriding obsession for decision makers in show business. American Beauty, the dark, despairing view of suburban life that won last year’s Academy Award for Best Picture, proved only a modest hit with the public — and yet everyone in the movie industry wished they had been involved with that film. If offered a choice between participation in American Beauty or contributing to the smash hit The Phantom Menace: Star Wars Episode One (which earned more than ten times as much in ticket sales), the great majority of movie people would prefer associate themselves with the Oscar winner. That’s why so many huge stars (including Julia Roberts, Jodie Foster, Edward Norton, Sean Penn, Billy Crystal, Charlize Theron, Madonna and countless others) work with Woody Allen for a fraction of their normal fees — despite the fact that his box office record is, if anything, even more questionable than Scorsese’s. Allen’s films may draw only modest audience response, but they win critical praise and frequent Academy Award nominations.
