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
theyknew 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.
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