The Ratings Manifesto . . . OR Swimming Against a Sea of Mediocrity

There is a specter haunting Hollywood. Its name is Censorship. And if it continues unabated, the long struggle in the film industry, the battle over whether films should be viewed as an art form or a commodity, will finally be resolved.

Art will not be the victor.

In 1966, the country had reached the wild apex of a decade that was in many ways pure rebellion against all those that preceded it. The Motion Picture Association of America made significant revisions to its Production Code, which had for years drastically limited what filmmakers were allowed to depict in their films. Sex, violence, and foul language in all their irreverent glory flooded into films by the gallon. Portions of the country were horrified.

On All Saints Day, 1968, the MPAA instituted a rudimentary ratings system to alert the public as to what films contained by way of “inappropriate material.” The spectrum was a four-figured scale running G, PG, R, X (now the more consumer-friendly NC-17). And all was well.

Until! In 1983, the public, clamoring for further distinction, asked for a rating to straddle the increasingly hazy middle-ground between PG and R. Well-meaning Stephen Spielberg suggested to then MPAA president Jack Valenti a rating of “PG-13,” which would allow children under 17 to watch by themselves, but alert their parents that there might be some questionable content.

And all was well.

Or so it seemed. But since 1984, the number of PG and— not counting the straight-to-video market— R movies released has decreased dramatically.

So what? What does this have to do with the quality of films?

Well, since 1968, when the rating system was introduced, 24 of the 38 films awarded the Best Picture Oscar have been rated R. Midnight Cowboy, the 1969 Best Picture winner, was rated X.

Three have been PG-13.

The undeniable fact is, R films are able to present a broader, richer example of the human experience, in all its flawed beauty. If—God forbid—our lives were ever given ratings, they would no doubt be stamped with an “R.” (Some really lucky individuals might even earn an “NC-17.”)

But it goes beyond all this.

The fault in these ever-increasing intermediate films is not simply that they’re PG-13, but that their ratings are dictated before they have a chance to blossom, to become the films they should be.

The studios of Hollywood find PG-13 films to be the most profitable, because of the wide range of demographics they can appeal to and reach. As such, many films are cut, re-written, or edited to make them PG-13.

These pre-ordained boundaries serve to sever the creative limits films need to reach their full potential. Not even horror films are immune.

There is hope, however. Some brave films-- comedies such as The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Wedding Crashers, action films like Sin City or Grindhouse, and horror shows like Hostel-- have decided to bear the burden of an R rating. What is more, they’ve become popular, infusing the viewing public with a thirst for more unrestricted fare. And, even further, these films, in reaction to an increasingly lukewarm culture, have set out to “earn the R.”—That’s an industry phrase describing films which, when facing an R-rating, go all-out, guns blazing, pushing the very boundaries of the MPAA code.

The problem Hollywood faces is, as always, the greed of the studios and the reticence of a timid public. If films continue to be boxed in by minds guided solely by profit, then we’ll be left with bland, lifeless, naïve cinema. We’ll be facing a marathon of forced mediocrity.

R-ratings of the World, unite!