So
how do Ireland deal with R18 hardcore films? As far as I know they are
still banned yet they are clearly on sale yet they seem to be openly on
sale in sex shops.
Ireland's film censors were once notoriously severe on matters sexual
and religious. But the latest incumbent, John Kelleher, says his role is
to advise and inform, not to cut out good wholesome shagging
The current censor, says that historically censors arrogantly assumed
they knew what was best. They banned or mutilated movies that now appear
innocent, including many that have gone on to achieve classic status.
As with the censorship of books, no allowances were made for artistic
quality: filth was filth. Just as writers such as James Joyce, Samuel
Beckett and John McGahern had their work banned, so Irish audiences were
deprived of the chance to see cinematic artworks by directors such as
Eisenstein and Fellini.
The first 50 years were extraordinarily repressive, admits Kelleher:
It was paternalist. You had a new state where the power of the church
was extremely strong and the politicians were nervous.
But everything, it seems, is different now. Literary censorship has
all but vanished. Although the office of film censor is still maintained
by the state — indeed, it has expanded in recent years to deal with
videos and DVDs — it is no longer in the banning business. Under
Kelleher, the office has rebranded itself as a consumer service. Its
role is to determine what movies are fit for adult viewing and which
should come with a warning: A guide dog rather than a watchdog,
Yet something of the old paternalism remains. The urge to exercise
control is wired into the censor's DNA. It is far from clear whether one
incumbent such as Kelleher, with his liberal instincts, can alter that.
The background of successive film censors tells its own story. The
early ones were political appointees with no real knowledge of cinema.
This began to change from the 1960s, when Dermot Breen and the
television personality Frank Hall had at least some connection to the
film business. But Kelleher and his predecessor, Sheamus Smith, were the
first censors to have come from a film-making background.
Smith, censor from 1986 to 2003, initiated a more liberal regime. He
banned some films, such as Bad Lieutenant. His other decisions could
appear arbitrary, even contradictory. He lifted the ban on Monty
Python's Life of Brian, only to ban other films by Terry Jones,
including Monty Python's Meaning of Life and the sex comedy Personal
Services.
In the 1980s and 1990s, however, sexual content alone was rarely
enough to get a film banned. Smith began to follow the Scandinavian
model, where violence was seen as potentially more harmful. But some of
the old reflexes lingered on: a mixture of sexuality and religion, as
seen in The Last Temptation of Christ.
Kelleher, in contrast, does not see himself as being in the business
of banning films. It is a weapon he rarely deploys, and so far never
against cinema releases, only against the uglier end of the video/DVD
trade.
The question of where pornography begins is a subjective one and the
definition shifts accordingly. Sixty years ago, Casablanca was seen as
pornographic. But Kelleher passed the film 9 Songs for adult viewing,
despite its extreme sexual explicitness.
This has led to an odd phenomenon in Ireland, with the film censor
drawing flak for being unduly lenient. Yet, he insists, he wants to
listen to the public. He believes strongly in the virtues of market
research, communication and focus groups. Part of his vision for the
office of film censor, a name he dislikes and hopes to have changed to
something more user-friendly such as film classifier, is openness and
transparency.
But the office retains powers that, in modern Ireland, are
disturbing. These include control over posters and ancillary materials,
as well as the power to give a film a special imprimatur, as happened in
1996 with Michael Collins, because it is deemed historically important.
The fact these powers are almost never used does not dilute their
incongruity in a free society. The old Ireland was proud of its
restrictive regime: it felt it was doing its duty to God and to the
people. In contrast, contemporary Ireland often seems proud of having
swung the other way.
It is hard to deny that the classification system performs a useful
service, but the censor's office, with all its historical baggage, is
not necessarily the ideal provider of that service.
Kelleher has certainly transformed the office. The biggest change is
a recognition that people who are 18 are adults, they should be able to
make up their own minds. Our role would be to advise — a consumer guide.
If we are really so grown-up, though, maybe it's time to try living
without any film censor; there are other ways of enforcing the
restrictions that a sane society needs. Perhaps it is time to make those
decisions for ourselves, without needing a government watchdog, or even
a guide dog.
I
decided to fire off some more questions to the Southern Irish State Film
Censor, John Kelleher.
