BBFC People: Andreas Whittam Smith

Should the "12" certificate in the cinema become advisory? This would mean that parents would decide whether children below the age of 12 would be able to attend films classified for the 12-to-14 age group. At present, the rating is mandatory. Under 12s are not supposed to go to "12" movies even if accompanied by their mother, their father, their grandparents and the local priest.

I write "not supposed" because a certain amount of dodging goes on. Friends have told me how they took, say, 11-year-old Sophie or Euan to see The Mummy despite its "12" rating and have dared me to disapprove. I don't cluck my tongue because, frankly, the "12" rating does have problems. The maturity of children at around that age varies widely and parents are the best judges of their robustness. And cinema staff, too, cannot necessarily distinguish between an 11-year-old, for instance, and a 13-year-old, just by looking.

Moreover, the "12" rating is still highly restrictive. Billy Elliot, in many ways a natural "12" was classified at "15" because of the extensive use of four-letter words, albeit in a conversational rather than aggressive manner. The rule at "12" is that strong language should be rare and justified by context. As to violence, there should be no dwelling on detail and no emphasis on blood and injuries. Sexual violence can only be implied or briefly indicated and in any case without physical detail. Likewise, sexual activity may only be implied. Sexual references must do no more than reflect standards set by sex education in schools. There can be horror movies at "12" but limited to occasional gory moments. Similarly, references to soft drugs or scenes where soft drugs are used must be brief and few in number. They must be justified by context and indicate the dangers. Hard drugs are off limits.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was classified at "12" because the considerable violence was cast in the form of stylised martial arts. It is always a consideration to what extent form distances violence from the viewer. To take a different example, the excellent Australian film, The Dish, seemed to me to be a sort of modern miracle because of the almost complete absence of sex and violence. The "dish" refers to an Australian radio telescope which found itself playing an important role in the American moon landing.

Here, the decision went the other way. The Dish would have been a PG (parental guidance) except for one bit of bad language; this raised it to the "12" category. Another example of a "12" is Pearl Harbor, which seems to be as big a commercial disaster for the makers as the actual event was for the American navy. The Mummy Returns, now for me indelibly associated with Lady Thatcher ever since her ponderous reference to it, is also, like its predecessor, a "12".

As it happens, a good illustration of the difficulties of the mandatory "12" is coming up. Lara Croft Tomb Raider, rated "12", will open shortly. This is a big-budget film version of a successful computer game. It is a story of a quest for a magic device which gives the possessor the power to control time. The acrobatic, all-guns-blazing Lara fights an evil society - as well as passing robots - for its possession.

Large numbers of youngsters, whether or not they have quite reached their 12th birthdays, will want to go to it for they have already seen the Lara Croft character on computer screens. As a matter of fact, though, the version submitted to the BBFC did conflict with the rule that "realistic and contemporary weapons should not be glamorised". The main problem concerned shots emphasising the attractiveness of flick knives. The film company took the board's concerns seriously and brought the movie into line with the "12" guidelines.

There are, however, major problems confronting any plan to make the "12" certificate advisory. One is the issue of accompaniment. It is difficult to write a rule which ensures that under 12s will be accompanied by a parent or responsible adult. At the box office window, the cinema staff have no way of ascertaining whether the older person who presents him or herself is indeed the parent or nominated by the parent. Insisting on adult accompaniment might encourage some kids to ask complete strangers to take them into desired movies.

When older readers of this newspaper were young teenagers, using a willing stranger to get one into a forbidden film was a recognised practice and I don't remember any reports of harmful experiences. But those days of innocence have passed. Paedophiles might see an opportunity. Is there any way of designing a satisfactory accompaniment requirement?

Another issue is consumer information. If parents are to decide whether to let younger children go to a "12" rated movie, they need to know what sort of film it is. The board provides consumer advice on its website for every film and video passed. But the board has no power to insist that the film and video industry uses it in its advertising. Until now, the cinema distributors and owners have been unenthusiastic.

A further question is the manner in which the board should proceed in exploring the case for a change. The frame within which the board operates is the law. In the cinema, the most relevant statutes are The Protection of Children Act 1978, The Obscene Publications Act 1959, the 1937 act which makes it illegal to show any scene involving actual cruelty to animals and the new legislation on human rights.

Within these bounds, the board sites its detailed guidelines and these govern individual classification decisions. The important point is that the board's guidelines are designed to reflect public opinion as closely as possible. In a sense, the board has no view of its own. It does what it believes the public, particularly parents, wish it to do. In turn, cinema owners can operate only if they have a licence from the local authority, an invariable condition of which is that the board categories be observed unless the authority makes an exception for a specific film.

How, then, to test the proposition that "12" should become advisory rather than mandatory? I think, the question must be put in the following form: would parents approve a relaxation in the rules provided that useful consumer information about individual "12" category films was readily available? Of course, this begs the further question whether better information can be provided. To this end, the co-operation of the cinema owners and distributors and involvement of local authorities will be essential.

There are signs that this can be secured. And once the board can put the question in a form which ties in better consumer information, then the methods used to test public opinion can be used again. It may also be possible to organise an experiment, perhaps lasting three to six months, in a single local authority area. The bottom line, however, is that the board will not make a permanent change unless satisfied the public approves. Public opinion will have the decisive say.

Andreas Whittam Smith leapt into the limelight again the other day - the Bishop as Batman - by saying there should be sex shops in every town. His argument was perfectly logical. As president of the British Board of Film Classification, he oversees a species of video-rated 'Restricted 18' that can only be sold in licensed sex shops. But if there is no licensed shop in an area - and there are very few outside Soho - porn-seekers go to illegal traders who sell videos out of the backs of cars and mix paedophile and bestial material along with the normal hardcore. So Andreas believes local authorities should control and supervise the trade rather than ignore it, by encouraging the establishment of sex shops.

Like so many of Andreas's arguments, this is on the one hand sensible and on the other hand slightly mad, or at any rate unrealistic. Naturally it sent the Daily Mail into a screaming frenzy. Stephen Glover, his old adversary from The Independent, accused him of wanting to sweep a tide of filth through every high street, so that you couldn't pop out for a loaf of bread without confronting window displays of mind-boggling sexual contraptions. Other papers took up the hue and cry but Andreas, far from being alarmed by the clamour, was delighted. There was even a cartoon in The Sun !   he beams. He is an absolute Liz Hurley when it comes to publicity.

He became president of the BBFC two years ago, and until that moment he had never been a consumer of pornography in any form. What, really, never - not at school, not in the Army, never ever ever? No. I'd never seen a sex video in my life. The first one I saw - which wasn't strictly speaking a sex video - astonished me hugely. It was called Pregnant and Milking No 5 - it was the number five that got me! So I looked at this thing and I discovered that there is a genre, which some men pay money to see, which is of pregnant women very dolefully and unenergetically stripping and fondling their breasts - that's all they do. I was very new to the job; I didn't know the rules at all. So I thought, oh dear, we can't have this in ordinary shops - we'd better make it R18. So that's what I did. I now know that that was a completely wrong decision - it's not like hard porn where the camera is about one inch from the action - but it still languishes in R18.

I must say I find it weird discussing blue films with Andreas - I keep wanting to hoot and snigger and shout 'weyhay'! He was my boss for three years when I worked on the Independent on Sunday, and although I knew he was not the sanctimonious prig depicted in Private Eye, I don't think we could have discussed Pregnant and Milking in those days - or certainly not with the suavity he brings to it now. But he says one of the things he likes about this job is the complete absence of cant. 'If we say to the distributors, There's not a shred of a plot here of any kind, they say, No there isn't. We didn't intend there to be.

Most of his job consists of classifying videos as suitable either for general release, R18 release (to sex shops only) or no release at all, and there is a
very precise legal framework for making these decisions. Classifying cinema films is a comparatively minor part of his work - 700 films a year as against 7,000 videos - and so far he has shown no inclination to cut anything, as he made clear from the beginning when he licensed Lolita uncut. He believes that cinema-goers broadly know what they're getting and I think at l8 adults should make up their own minds. Of course I'm sure 16-and 17-year-olds are running into 18 films but I don't think 12-year-olds are; I think it's quite well policed. And no other country comes up to 18 - most of them stop at 17. We are the most highly censored country in the world.

Alexander Walker (the Evening Standard 's film critic) had 50 fits last year when Andreas passed the French film Romance complete with full-frontal erections. Allow one pioneering male sex organ to rear its head, he shrieked, and suddenly dozens more will come out of hiding. (Actually, Walker was too coy to mention it, but there was ejaculation as well.) But Andreas is unconcerned - he thinks there probably will be more onscreen erections but only when the public is ready for them. The public is becoming less tolerant of violence on film - and you can see this in that the Hollywood action heroes aren't getting roles any longer. But the public continues to become more relaxed about sexual explicitness - that tide has not turned. So slightly more explicit stuff will gradually seep through. Because guidelines reflect what we can read as public opinion and if public opinion is slowly becoming more relaxed, then we will too.

Apparently Jack Straw approves. According to Andreas, I have a very good relationship with the Home Secretary.

Not all the issues are about sex and violence. There's a genre of videos at the moment that are offcuts of television news footage, which no one dares show on a regular news programme - people running out of houses burning, or the police opening a door and finding someone hanging. Andreas again is permissive. I have to say, I'm sympathetic to showing it. I suppose it's my news instinct - I think, well that's what happens. People do run out of fires burning. It isn't acting. It isn't a story encouraging violence, it's real.

He has a team of 20 examiners who classify most of the films, but he watches the one or two a week that are 'problematic'. He has just passed Pasolini's Salo which has never been licensed in this country and refused to make cuts. What you find with a good film-maker - it's like with good prose - you can't cut it. Secondly, the best film-makers, when you look carefully, suggest everything, they don't actually show it. You think you've seen all sorts of things, but you haven't really. And censors can only deal with what we see.

So has he been depraved and corrupted by watching all these dirty movies? Has he started fantasising about having sex with goats? No - but I don't think you ever get hardened to it. It's very like going to the dentist. You've got this date - 11 o'clock, Wednesday morning. And often you know it's going to be pretty tough, and you think "ohmigod". I always ask, "How long is it?" and if there's a lot of time spent on the introductory stuff, I think, oh that's good, 10 minutes gone! And then quite often of course it's nowhere near as bad as you fear. But when it is bad, I definitely feel as if my mind has been soiled. I come out of the Board and walk towards Tottenham Court Road tube station. And as I pass people in the street I've still got the film going in my head, and these people are part of it somehow. The only word I can think of is soiled.' Does he find gay films difficult? 'Yes, I think I'd have to say I find it even harder to watch a gay film than I do a heterosexual one, but that's just me. They can be very sado-masochistic and often run into greater problems for that reason. The video he found hardest of all to watch was one about body piercing - It showed everything - it showed the bolt going through, it showed the operations. And it ended up with men - I don't think women do it - men having hooks placed in their backs - apparently the skin is strong enough - and then they're dangled from some sort of pulley arrangement, hanging from these hooks on their back, and revolve. They're looking for an out-of-body experience, so they say. And perhaps they achieve it, I don't know. Well, that was a new one! I knew nothing about that!

Conversely, does he ever get turned on by these videos? No, not by sex videos because they're too up close. They are fantastically unnatural. And one mark of that is that I can never remember individual titles. If someone says, "Do you remember Office Tarts ?" I don't. I remember the genre well enough, but they're all the same. I can easily be turned on by a beautiful or romantic comedy with fairly explicit sex, sure, but not by that. I need a bit of class to be turned on! And he utters his strange barking laugh.

The great thing to remember about Andreas Whittam Smith is that he may look like a bishop, he may on occasions talk like a bishop, but he is not a bishop. True, he is a clergyman's son (as were seemingly half the staff of the Independent in his day) and he takes his religion seriously. But his high-minded puritanism is mixed with a wacky iconoclasm, or what Glover calls his Baader-Meinhof streak. He can do gravitas in spades, but there is also a flighty, flouncy side, subject to strange tantrums and vanities, delighted by gossip, thrilled when Pamella Bordes once came to the Independent office, happy to pose for Annie Liebovitz with a golden eagle on his arm, and always eager for any excuse to open champagne. Sebastian Faulks, who was at the Independent from the beginning, recalls him as an inspiring editor and says that 'to me he seemed a bit like the Jack Nicholson character in Easy Rider: a real straight who had suddenly been given his head'.

Rupert Murdoch said he had 'the charisma of a poached egg'. On the other hand, everyone who worked on the Independent was obsessed by him and would try to read the runes of his ever-changing complexion - was mauve a good sign? Was it better to ask for a rise when he was mildly pink or positively white? I always thought he was an actor manque but he says, on the contrary, he would hate to be an actor, and he actually has a recurring nightmare in which he is made to act and 'I haven't learned my lines, we're just about to start, and I'm going to have to go on stage and look a complete and utter clown'. That's an imposter dream, I tell him. 'Exactly, yes.' So is he an imposter? People who believed in his bishop image were always terribly shocked when they came across his flighty side and accused him of being a hypocrite. But, as he says, it's not his fault if people read him wrong.

He doesn't understand how he ever got this bishop image: I'd like to shake it off - I don't really want to go around looking like a bishop. My greatest
desire has been to be cosmopolitan and it shattered me one day when the then editor of La Repubblica said "Andreas, whenever I think of an Englishman I think of you". I thought, "My God - all this time I've tried to be cosmopolitan!" And when I was feeling very metropolitan one day I went to Harrods to get my hair cut, and as I lay back in the chair, the barber said, "Up from the country, sir?" And I hadn't moved out of the city for six months! So I can't achieve the self-image I want. I'd like to be either cosmopolitan or metropolitan or both really - a man of the world, at ease everywhere in the world. The nearest I came to it was when the Daily Mail was really cross with me about Lolita; the leader was a big attack, which ended up by describing me as "this urbane liberal" and I was so pleased with the urbane! That's the only thing I can set against this wretched bishop image.

He is about to become more cosmopolitan because he and his wife have just started 'an experiment in two-city living', which means she lives in a rented
flat in Paris during the week and he joins her at weekends. It sounds rather lonely for him, but he says, I've got lots to do, my oldest son is often here
and we're slowly turning it into a men's club - it's like a men's club without any members at the moment.

He is 63 but has no thought of retiring. When he left the Independent in 1994 he decided to plan his life on the basis that he had 30 more working years ahead of him. Some people have a fear of death, which I don't. But I do have a very deep, powerful fear of not working. The notion of retirement has no attraction of any kind - I can't understand it when people my age start going on cruises. I know I shall always work whatever happens. So that tells you something about what drives me. It's not to do with accumulating money, it's to do with a sort of puritanical view, I think, that I always wish to contribute in some minor way. And maybe that comes from the vicarage