I’ve been studying film classification systems, or movie age ratings, for years. I wrote undergrad essays on the subject, an MA thesis on it, and have published journal articles. You can find some here. There are also many blog posts. I’ve concluded that, for all their flaws, film classification systems are necessary, desirable, and best run by the government (in a democracy). That’s what we have done in Canada, along with many other countries.
The United States has a voluntary system of film classification, run by the film industry. It favours films from the larger companies, ignores regional differences, and practises invisible censorship (films are quietly altered before or after production). It’s not responsive to public concerns, and while the classifiers are nominally independent, film industry representatives dominate the appeals board. Finally, contrary to what might be expected, censorship still occurs with age-classification, and industry run classification has more censorship and more restrictive classifications than government censorship.
The UN Convention on the Rights of the Child encourages countries to have film classification systems, in order to protect children from film content that may be harmful to them. The Convention also requires that children participate in decisions that affect them, including film classification. The United States does not meet these requirements, but has not signed the Convention (it’s the only country that hasn’t). Canada has signed the Convention, and more or less meets these obligations to children with mandatory classification in most provinces, and the participation of children in film classification in some provinces.
In short, the Canadian system of film classification is better than the American system, for many reasons. But, just over a year ago, the Government of Ontario stopped classifying films, choosing to rely on the ratings from British Columbia as an interim measure while they developed a “new approach.” In a journal article published earlier this year, I predicted Ontario would likely adopt the MPAA ratings, to the detriment of independent film makers and film viewers, especially children.
The government has now introduced amendments to the Film Act, which scrap ratings, and call for age recommendations and content advisories to be issued by film distributors, with the distributors to supply contact information for complaints. This is apparently to ease regulatory burden. However, if film distributors have to prepare a special recommendation and advisory just for Ontario, and staff a complaints desk, there’s not much change to the regulatory burden – if anything, it’s increased. If this goes through, I fully expect the film industry to announce that the existing MPAA age recommendations, content advisories, and contact information meet the requirements. In other words, Ontario will end up using the MPAA ratings, and this may put pressure on other provinces to follow suit.
Who benefits from this change? Large film companies. Why is it being being done? Because the Ontario provincial government and its supporters have the ideology that government is bad, and business is good. From decades of studying film classification systems, I know that’s wrong when it comes to movie ratings. From witnessing the collapse of American democracy and growing social inequality thanks to small-government conservatives and neo-liberals, we should all know by now that the ‘business does it better’ mantra is bad for everything and everyone, except large companies and wealthy individuals. I take little comfort in predicting this sad shift to the film industry providing film classification in Ontario, and hold out hope that more reasonable approaches continue in other provinces.
The Ontario government announced last Friday that it is shutting down the Ontario Film Authority. This is the provincial government agency that classifies films and home video distributed in Ontario. The plan is to create “a modern framework for film classification.” Meanwhile, films still require classifications. Ontario will temporarily use the classifications from British Columbia. The closure is intended to save the film industry money.
It’s no secret that the film industry does not like classification, though cost is not the issue. Large distributors want non-restrictive ratings to maximize their audience. It is small distributors who find the costs difficult. At $4.20 a minute, it can cost $300 to $500 to classify a film in Ontario (and there are five other classification agencies for other jurisdictions in Canada, all charging similar rates). This is nothing to a major company, but prohibitive to a small distributor, such as local video store considering importing a foreign film to offer for sale. However, the rise of streaming has reduced demand for DVDs and given new markets for independents, most film festivals do not require classification (unless children attend), and home video stores are mostly memories.
Despite disliking classification, large American film distributors have long tolerated it as it allows them to avoid complaints about content and appear to be responsible product manufacturers. Their preferred system of classification is industry controlled – the MPAA. The MPAA members are Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures, Netflix Studios LLC, Paramount Pictures Corporation, Sony Pictures Entertainment Inc., Universal City Studios LLC, and Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. Among other benefits, the MPAA helps their members maintain their oligopoly by giving more restrictive ratings to independent and foreign films. The MPAA treats Canada as part of the United States for distribution purposes – it’s considered the domestic market – so the need to deal with six classification agencies is Canada is a nuisance.
One of the MPAA arguments for maintaining control of classification is that industry classification prevents government censorship. Ironically, my comparative studies of film ratings in Canada and the United States (my MA thesis, and a forthcoming paper) show that industry ratings, although favouring some distributors, are on average more restrictive than government ratings. MPAA film classifications are more restrictive than the Canadian provincial average for 80% of all films. In their zeal to self-police and manage film content, the MPAA errs on the side of caution. However, there is some evidence that the higher MPAA ratings are due to Americans being more concerned than Canadians about portrayals of sexuality and drug use. Conversely, Canadian classification agencies are often more concerned about portrayals of violence than the MPAA.
If the end result of the Ontario government’s shut down of the Film Authority is to adopt MPAA ratings, a suggestion that has come up before, we will have ratings that are on average more restrictive than they are now, and do not reflect the concerns and sensibilities of Ontario residents. Meanwhile, the government has chosen to use the ratings of British Columbia – the most liberal of the agencies in Canada.
Canada’s system of rating films is unusual. In the earliest days of the film industry, censorship was local. As the industry grew and consolidated, national systems became common, usually run by or for the government (except in the United States), with the actual classifications performed by government employees, an appointed board, a non-profit corporation, or a film industry association. The provincial agencies in Canada rejected a national system in 1921, “as each province has a different class of people to deal with.” However, there have been some movements to shared systems.
Newfoundland abandoned film classification before joining Confederation, though ratings from Nova Scotia are used informally. The Yukon Territory has never had film classification, but ratings from BC are used informally. Nunavut and the Northwest Territories use classifications from other jurisdictions, typically Alberta. In the 1980s, New Brunswick shut down their agency, and started using classifications from Nova Scotia (for English films) and Quebec (for French films). In the 1990s, Prince Edward Island started using the Nova Scotia classifications, and Saskatchewan started using the BC classifications.
In this context, Ontario’s decision to use the BC classifications is part of a decades-long trend. And while provincial ratings do vary, my studies have shown they are the same about 75% of the time. Where Ontario and BC differ, BC is more liberal, and also more consistent. The latter may be a result of classifications performed by full-time employees instead of public board members working three or four days a month.
What does Ontario lose by using BC classifications? First, BC does not classify home video, except for adult sex films. For home video releases of theatrical films, the theatrical release rating can be used, but the content may be different. For straight to video films, there would be no classification.
Second, the Film Authority and its predecessor, the Ontario Film Review Board, answered to the Ontario government. If you had a concern about how a film was rated, you could take it up with your local member of the provincial parliament. People did, and in some cases the ratings of films were discussed in the legislature. The provincial classification agency increased the age rating of The Hunger Games a few weeks after release, in response to public complaints.
Third, the agency held regular public sessions to gather public input on film classification. Apart from the transparency, these sessions also allowed cable distributors and streaming companies to learn about the board’s approach to classification, and public concerns, and take those into consideration when classifying their content.
Finally, Ontario is a member of the Canadian Home Video Rating System (CHVRS). In the 1990s, with the rise of home video, and encouraged by a film industry challenged with selling videotapes in different Canadian jurisdictions with different classifications, the agencies largely (but not completely) harmonized their ratings (except Quebec). The industry created the Canadian Home Video Rating System (CHVRS), an average of the provincial ratings, except Quebec. With Ontario no longer rating films, their information is not considered for the CHRVS rating.
As noted above, ratings within Canada are largely similar, so the temporary use of BC ratings has minimal impact. However, if the government moves to adopt MPAA ratings, that would have significant impact, due to the more restrictive MPAA ratings. It’s unknown how the use of MPAA ratings in Ontario, if adopted, might affect the CHVRS.
It is likely that classification, in some form, will continue. Protection of children was long used to justify film censorship in the past. Protection of children is the rationale for classification, and the United Nations encourages jurisdictions to have film classification, in order to protect children from harmful film content (a right of children under Article 17 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child). Concerns about protecting children in the wake of Ontario’s decision are already being raised.
Speaking of children’s rights, the UN Convention also requires that children have input in decisions that affect them. This means, among many other things, that children should be involved in film classification systems. An international study I conducted found British Columbia was one of three jurisdictions in Canada that recognized this, and had some input from children. Ontario did not have any input from children. Again, this means using BC classifications is an improvement. The MPAA does not have any input from children.
Apart from protecting children, what difference does classification make? Does it matter who classifies a film, or what those classifications are? Yes. Classification is a subtle form of censorship. To maximize the audience, films must not contain material deemed inappropriate for teenagers. It is not unusual for distributors to quietly cut films, in pre or post production, in order to obtain a lower age rating in a country or province.
Classification is not the only tool for governments to limit film content. In Canada, every province has the right to ban films, for any reason. This was confirmed in the 1970s, when Nova Scotia banned Last Tango in Paris. The Ontario courts ruled in 2005 that prior restraint – mandatory classification – is not constitutional, but to date the Ontario government has ignored that decision. Ontario bans dozens of films every year. These films are usually adult sex films, but they have not been found criminally obscene, and any film can be banned, without any hearing.
The temporary decision to use BC Classifications is a small change, but one wonders what consultations will be done for the new system, and what the result will be. Adoption of the MPAA ratings would benefit no one except large film companies. We may also see more extensive use of the provincial right to ban films.
However, one tries to be optimistic. The Ontario government might follow the lead of Manitoba and Alberta, and declare no films will be banned. They might also consider agencies like the British Board of Film Classification. Though originally created by the film industry, it answers to the national government (and local councils may choose to overrule it in their area). It has good participation of children. Its extensive online information about classified films includes details on any cuts made to achieve a classification. In short, it is film classification that is transparent, open, participatory, and neutral. Ontario could become a model for film classification in Canada. Fingers crossed.
Baby Doll is a 1956 American film based on a pair of one-act Tennessee Williams plays. It’s a steamy love triangle between a young virginal wife, her husband, and his rival. Although passed by the Production Code, it was condemned as immoral by the US Roman Catholic Legion of Decency, and banned in several areas. Time magazine described it as “possibly the dirtiest American-made motion picture that has ever been legally exhibited” (December 24, 1956).
With the exceptions of British Columbia and Alberta, there’s little information available about how Canadian film censors responded to the film. Most list a rating on their websites, but in some cases this appears to be the original rating, while in other cases it appears to be updated. Classification standards have changed over the past 60 years, and older films sometimes get new ratings. None of the online ratings show if the approved version was cut, though it likely was. Even today, most agencies do not indicate if a film has been cut for approval or for a specific age rating (the British Board of Film Classification is a happy exception). Dates of classification are often incorrect for older films.
Alberta – A (under 16 requires adult accompaniment, a classification no longer used)
Alberta has records showing the cuts that were made. The cuts related to sexual imagery and dialogue, such as the line “Your husband sweats more than any man I know. Now I can understand why.” The print approved, in July of 1957, was publicly identified as cut. Advertising included “This motion picture was reconstructed and edited to meet the requirement of the Alberta Censor Board.” This open approach was very different from the practice in Ontario at the time, where the Chief Censor once wrote: “At all times the Department attempts to avoid censorship which is apparent to the patron, since it would defeat the purpose of censorship.”
British Columbia does not list ratings for older films on its website, but there is some correspondence from the period, which shows that the film was initially approved, then rejected, rejected again, and finally approved.
In January of 1957, the Chief Censor wrote to the distributor, and referred to earlier correspondence:
You will recall that when I granted approval for this picture I insisted upon very conservative advertising that would avoid any reference to the current controversy about it. In this you have most certainly cooperated.
At the same time, I pointed out that should I get a larger number of complaints … I would have to withdraw the approval. Unhappily the situation has developed where I feel I must take that action.
In October of 1957, a revised version of Baby Doll was submitted for approval. From looking at the dates, this may have been the version that had been approved in Alberta in July. (Keep in mind that at this time, there were usually only one or two prints of a film circulating in western Canada, landing in British Columbia after doing a circuit of theaters in Alberta.) The censor noted that the “eliminations that have been made have greatly changed the picture.” However:
If it were not for the enormous publicity which accompanied our decision when we first viewed it; especially here in Vancouver, and the publicity that is bound to recur in mounting intensity should it be shown, I would have been tempted to approve it. People who would now go to see Baby Doll would be seeing a picture which has a tradition of cheap sensationalism behind it. I feel very strongly that it is not in the public interest to show such a picture.
As always, the censor reminded the distributor of their right to appeal, and the film was passed by the Appeal Board in January of 1958.
The reviews were good, and the film was nominated for several American Academy Awards, American Golden Globe Awards, and British Academy Film Awards. Director Elia Kazan won a Golden Globe for best director, and actor Eli Wallach, playing against Karl Malden, won a British Academy Award for “Most Promising Newcomer to Film.” Box office receipts were modest, but the film popularized the existing name ‘baby doll’ for the short nightgown which was worn by Carroll Baker’s character.
Self-Defense is a 1932 western/melodrama from Monogram. Katy owns and runs a gambling bar in a small town in northern British Columbia, but has sent her teenage daughter, Nona, to a boarding school in California. Nona believes her mother runs a high-end hotel, and Katy doesn’t want Nona to learn the truth. A local trouble maker makes trouble for Katy, including arranging for Nona to come to town. This leads to a confrontation between the bad guy and Tim, a friend of Katy’s, where Tim shoots and kills him. At the trial, Tim pleads self-defense, but cannot give all the details, as that would reveal the truth about Katy’s establishment, and Nona is present. The trial concludes in an unorthodox manner. A full synopsis is available at Turner Classic Movies.
When the film arrived in British Columbia, provincial censors were concerned about the portrayal of the court system, and ordered the removal of all references to the province. This consisted mostly of mentions of going to Prince Rupert, as well as visible BC license plates on cars. It’s entirely possible that the story was set in BC in the first place, rather than a western state, in order to avoid problems with American censors. They were concerned with negative portrayals of the USA. For example, in the mid-1920’s the Pennsylvania Board of Censors ordered that a location title be changed from “Deep in the fastnesses of the great California forest” to “Deep in the fastnesses of the great Canadian forest,” suggesting that the lawlessness of that film’s characters was more appropriate to exotic Canada.
In addition to the cuts, a title disclaimer was added at the start of Self-Defense, for its showings in BC.
This picture is purely fiction and deals with a romantic story of the far North in the early days. It must be understood that no Courts in Canada under jurisdiction of British Law were ever conducted as depicted in this film.
Negative portrayals of any institution, including colleges, the police, the church, and hospitals, were frowned upon, and could result in a film being banned. It’s not clear if this disclaimer was requested by the censor, or volunteered by the distributor, however the record of the addition was added to the file later. Disclaimers like this were not unusual at the time. As the film showed cars (with BC license plates), stating this was “the early days” may not have been effective, but anachronisms were common in period films, especially westerns. Now it’s anachronistic to be concerned about protecting the reputations of our institutions, and perhaps that’s a good thing.
Censoring of silent films required removing scenes with offensive imagery, and removing or replacing title cards. This was easy to do, by physically cutting out the offending strip of film, and splicing the sections before and after the cut. When done well, a viewer would never even know a cut had been made. In some cases the censor office would make the cut, and advise the distributor, but in other cases the censor would request the cut, the distributor would make it, and sometimes send the censor office the offending section of film as proof that it had been removed. While cutting did require some work, keep in mind that there was often only one copy of a film circulating in a province. As late as the 1950s, censors would note if cuts had been made to a second or, rarely, third print. Although silent films often showed people talking, censors did not lip read films, and occasionally a film with mouthed profanities did slip through, such as What Price Glory(1926).
The arrival of sound in the 1920s meant everything spoken was recorded, including double entendres and other objectionable dialogue. Cutting audible dialogue posed problems. The first commercially viable movie sound system was sound-on-disc, basically a large (16″) record that was played along with the film, one record per reel. A reel of film was about eleven minutes, and the technology of the time required the large record to store eleven minutes of sound. Not all censor offices could play the record, and even if they could, and did hear something objectionable, it could not be cut.
Vitagraph, the developer of sound-on-disc, tried to prevent the need to censor sound by claiming sound was not really part of a film, and therefore not subject to the film censorship requirements. The issue came to court in Pennsylvania, location of one of the more aggressive state censors, and the state supreme court ruled against Vitagraph. (Vitagraph was bought by Warner Brothers in 1925, which christened the sound-on-disc process VitaPhone. The term was later used for any sound film, and into the 1960s was used for shorts.)
Fox (which merged with Twentieth Century in 1935) also opposed censorship of sound, and also lost in court. In their case, Fox refused to submit written copies of the dialogue, an aid to censors. The Pennsylvania Supreme Court ruled that printed dialogue submission was required.
The film companies accepted that sound in films was subject to censorship, and supplied printed scripts to censors. Dialogue cuts were handled by instructing the projectionist to turn down the volume when necessary. For example, the 1931 comedy short Hello Russia includes the 1917 song “You’re in the Army Now” (one of many film appearances of this song). A line in the song starts “You’ll never get rich” and ends with either “you son of a bitch” or “digging a ditch.” It’s not clear which version was in the film, but according to archival records in British Columbia, the line had to go in order for the film to play in that province.* The local office of Canadian Universal replied to the censor’s request, confirming the arrangement:
Please be advised that owing to censor cut of dialogue in the two reel talking comedy, entitled HELLO RUSSIA, as follows,
“You’ll Never Get Rich – ”
whenever this subject plays a disc account a letter will accompany same, instructing the operator to pull the fader and thereby eliminate this dialogue.
Projectionists could lose their license for failure to observe censorship instructions.
In the early 1930s there was format war over film sound, and the less cumbersome sound-on-film system won. Sound-on-film is an optical process. A light shines through a small section at the edge of the film (the soundtrack), where there is a line that varies in thickness and shape. A sensor registers the light variations and they are converted to sound. With sound on film, cutting the film to remove an image would also remove the sound. However, sometimes only the dialogue needed to be removed. This could be done by obscuring the soundtrack. Censor records sometimes mention that dialogue was “zaponed.” It’s unclear exactly what this meant, but it probably refers to applying a coating to obscure the optical soundtrack. Zapon used to be a brand name for a cellulose nitrate varnish, a coating similar to nitrate film stock.
Analog optical soundtracks are still used for films, but usually supplemented by one or more digital optical soundtracks, resembling tiny barcodes. Sound on disc also made a comeback of sorts, in the form of a proprietary system that used CDs for film audio, synchronized with the film by (digital optical) codes on the film.
Actual film has become rare. Halifax has 45 commercial theatre screens, and only one can show films. Most movies are distributed to theatres as digital files, which are much larger than the files used for home viewing. Digital files make censoring easier, and have the potential to make it as invisible as it was in silent films. At home, ClearPlay allows viewers to stream or view their own discs, with dialogue and scene censoring on the fly, according to their own personal preferences. However, this has not happened (so far) with theatrical releases. Classification agencies no longer review scripts or demand dialogue cuts, and anything potentially objectionable is simply taken into account when assigning the rating.
A legacy of sound-on-disc is the frame rate of films. Silent films were projected at various speeds, usually between 20 and 26 frames per second. The projector operator might run the film faster or slower to enhance the comedy or drama of scenes. However, the need to synchronize the film and the record, and the greater sensitivity of the ear to variation in sound frequency than variation in image frequency, meant that sound films had to run at a constant fixed rate. Vitaphone set this at 24 frames per second. This is still the standard for film projection, and most digital projection, though higher frame rates are becoming more common.
*British Columbia was not necessarily stricter than other provinces, but they appear to be the only province that kept records of censorship requests.
Rogue One is another disappointment in the Star Wars franchise. It doesn’t have the excruciating moments of the prequels, it’s well made, and there is an assortment of cameos and references to other films, and not just Star Wars film. However, the referenced films include Saving Private Ryan and Apocalypse Now, which are appropriate for this film’s dark tone. It’s not a fun film, and that makes the more humorous references and occasional jokes hard to enjoy.
The story emphasizes a series of battle scenes, and is not so much a glorification of war as a celebration of sacrifice. None of main characters survive: all of them have no regrets about their actions. This is a great propaganda film, showing beings of different species, races, ages, and genders all uniting to fight a common enemy. It might be moving if the sacrifices had any value, but they don’t. The mission of our heroes is to advance a plot to destroy the Death Star. We know the plot works, from Part IV A New Hope. We also know it didn’t work that well, because the Death Star is back again in Part VI, Return of the Jedi. An even bigger Death Star is central to Part VII, The Force Awakens. Perhaps the message is you cannot stop evil?
We also know that our heroes are not necessarily good guys, and they admit as much in this film. Meanwhile, the anonymous and purely evil bad guys of the original film have, by now, been well established as individuals, who are not all bad. We’ve seen Darth Vader as a whiny child, moody adolescent, and redeemed father. We’ve seen a Storm Trooper reject his path in The Force Awakens, and a former Empire pilot and his robot join the rebels in this film. This film also shows us that the architect of the Death Star was coerced into designing the weapon.
Finally, after seeing eight films, I’m starting to wonder just how bad the Empire is. Sure, at the top, they are evil and power hungry, but power is usually a means to an end, and it’s not clear what that end is. The Empire is dedicated to wiping out the rebellion, and the rebellion is dedicated to bringing down the Empire, but apart from that I’m not sure what either side wants. Why do we fight? Given that both sides have vague goals, the individuals on both sides have moral complexity, and we know this is just one meaningless effort in a war lasting generations, it’s hard to find the long battle sequences anything but dreary.
To add to the unease, one sequence takes place in a vaguely middle eastern setting (some of the filming was in Jordan), and another sequence takes place on beaches and among palm trees, referencing both WWII and Vietnam. Thanks to the magic of CGI, the characters played decades ago by Peter Cushing and Carrie Fisher appear to be performed by the same actors, as they appeared back then. This is a disturbing use of effects, and not necessary. It’s easier to accept different actors playing the same character (such as James Bond), than it is to accept that an actor has not aged, or, in the case of Cushing, can appear in a film twenty-two years after death. Spaceships and monsters are products of the creative imagination, but re-animated actors are a denial of time and humanity.
Film classification agencies do not care about tone, or possible propaganda aspects of films. During and after World Wars I and II, these were important considerations. During the wars, films that humanized the enemy might be banned, but in the 1950s, war films that dwelt on past hatreds could also be banned. Until the 1960s, censors, for better or worse, tried to ensure films were good for society. That’s no longer part of the job. As per regulations, classification is based on objective measures such as how much violence or sex is shown.
Rogue One has no sex, though Ontario censors spotted a little cuddling. I was grateful the characters had that moment. What it does have is plenty of violence, of the more or less bloodless variety. Several classification agencies note “science fiction violence” because people being killed by lasers is somehow different than people being shot or blown up (which also happens a lot ).
The ratings are consistent across Canada and in most other jurisdictions. The consensus is that this is a film for the 12 and up set, though younger kids can go. In a couple of cases they can only go with their parents. Much of what is in the trailer is not in the film, which lets one wonder how much of that was deliberate misleading and how much was last minute editing. However, it’s a fair portrayal of the action scenes and other imagery.
It’s almost December, it’s snowing, and I’m in the mood for a holiday film or two. The reviews for Bad Santa 2 are not encouraging (“Bad Santa 2” is vulgar, nasty and offensive, but it has flawed aspects also) so it’s time to look at the classics. My list of holiday classics includes the delightful Miracle on 34th Street, and A Christmas Carol (1951, must be watched in black and white).
My list does not include It’s a Wonderful Life – it’s no more a Christmas movie than Die Hard, and there are many reasons to dislike it. It was panned when it opened, by both the New Yorker and the New York Times, though arguably neither publication appreciates small town life. Here’s a slightly more recent critical review, which focuses on the problematic Pottersville sequence.
Another personal holiday classic is National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. It’s sweeter and more sentimental (relatively) than the original Vacation film, as benefits a family holiday film. While Vacation is a mock heroic quest, Christmas Vacation is structured like a classical Greek old comedy, complete with all the rivals on stage for the big final number. Since the big final number is singing the American anthem, that probably would have been cut by Canadian censors in the 1920s and 1930, as they were sensitive to gratuitous displays of American patriotism. And what did the censors, now classifiers, think of this film in 1989? Can it be called a family holiday film?
Classification agencies usually have web sites that provide details about films’ ratings, but of course these sites did not exist in 1989, and while most agencies have put their old records online, they either did not capture additional details, or have not put those online. With the ability to post information about film ratings online, most agencies now provide a lot more information about the film, and how the rating was determined. However, the actual ratings for older films are available, and for most of Canada, Christmas Vacation is PG. Quebec, as usual, is more liberal, giving a G rating, although there is no PG in Quebec. The Maritimes have the stricter 14A. The Americans are somewhere in the middle, at PG-13. That’s stricter than PG, but without the legal restriction of the 14A. The few international ratings I found are similar, and the one noted concern is language. It’s worth noting that the ratings for Christmas Vacation are generally lower than the ratings for Vacation.
Most agencies do not state if ratings change, so it’s possible these are not the original ratings. Also, some agencies re-rate films when they come out on video, and some do not.
The British ratings are interesting case. In 1990, they gave the home video a PG rating. In 1998, a 2 second cut was required to keep that rating. This is the opposite of traditional ratings creep, a well documented tendency for the same classification to gradually allow more challenging material. A 2013 version, with additional material and commentary, is rated 12, meaning no one under 12 may rent or purchase. (BBFC does not use adult accompaniment ratings for home video, but if this was a theatrical release, the rating would be 12A, meaning adult accompaniment required for children under 12). Other agencies also request or suggest cuts to obtain a specific rating, but the information is rarely publicized. The distributor may also cut a film before rating, in which case the agency may not be aware of the cut.
Due to the lack of information available from official agencies, I checked a few other ratings sources. The experts who contribute to Common Sense Media and the surfers who contribute to OK.COM both agree this film is suitable for 13 and up. Finally, I checked the Catholic News Service. The influence of the Catholic church on the original MPAA production code is well known. Less well known is that since the early 1930s, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, and later the Catholic News Service, have been providing their own classifications, rating films for “artistic merit and moral suitability.” On the artist merit side, “Director Jeremiah S. Chechik keeps the gags moving quickly past the double entendres and gets some laughs from Clark’s bumbling attempts to enjoy Christmas.” On the moral suitability side, this film is suitable for Adults, on the following scale:
A-I: general patronage;
A-II: adults and adolescents;
L: limited adult audience, films whose problematic content many adults would find troubling.
O: morally offensive.
Gather round, for some more or less inoffensive family fun.
I confess that a) I have not seen Suicide Squad, b) the trailer left me with no desire to see it, and c) I still can’t remember which comic characters are Marvel and which are DC, let alone what they did in their last movie. That said, I did find Deadpool a guilty pleasure, so maybe this would be fun. Meanwhile, let’s look at the ratings.
It’s PG across Canada, except Quebec, but there is no PG there, so this is as consistent as we can get. All agree it’s not for young children, and language and violence are the concerns. Both within and outside Canada, agencies aren’t sure whether there is any sexually suggestive content. South of the border the rating is up a notch, as usual.
Other agencies are split, with some recommending no children (Australia, Hong Kong, South Africa), some requiring adult accompaniment for younger children (Ireland, Brazil), and some prohibiting young children (United Kingdom, New Zealand). Hong Kong offers two versions, both with the same rating, but one apparently removes the coarse language.
Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising, is of course the sequel to Neighbors, with a sorority instead of a fraternity. As the classification advisories/presence of Seth Rogen make clear, there is the crude comedy, however this is a rare case of a sequel improving on the original film, not just echoing the story. The added complexity comes from addressing some of the sexism around greater restrictions on partying at sororities, the rapey nature of frat parties, and broader issues of consent. These ladies want to party on their own terms. There’s a fun montage of parties, including a historical feminist party (featuring several different versions of Hillary Clinton), and a party to celebrate the loss of a character’s virginity (where the presumed male is never seen). It might be a stretch to call this a feminist film, but it has been praised for its approach to gender issues.
The arc of reinforcing conservative attitudes remains even as the film embraces newer values. For example, a same sex relationship for a former frat brother is treated as a source of sentiment, not humour, but the men have a traditional proposal and wedding. The realism of a character’s inability to work, due to his criminal record, is happily overcome by entrepreneurship. The core of the plot is a growing family’s desire to move to the suburbs. However, as crude comedies go, Neighbors 2 is relatively liberal and enlightened. Just as the original was also released as Bad Neighbours, this has been released as Bad Neighbours 2 in some areas. The trailer gives a poor sense of the film, and several of the gags shown are not in the film.
Across Canada, the classification agencies were consistent in their ratings and advisories. Quebec wasn’t particularly worried about the drug use or sexual content. BC was busy counting the swearing: “approximately 170 instances of coarse and/or sexual language” in a 92 minute film. Other countries were slightly more restrictive, with the Americans giving an R rating, and several agencies not permitting any viewing by younger teens. That’s unfortunate, because they’d love the crude humour, and need to hear the messages about acceptance, independence, and consent.
Paint Drying (2016) is a film created solely to annoy British film classifiers. This 607 minute epic shows paint drying on a wall. For ten hours and seven minutes. Nothing else. Fourteen hours of footage was shot, however the final cut depended on the funds available to cover the per minute cost of classification. The funds were raised through a Kickstarter project. The BBFC duly reviewed and classified the film as a documentary, suitable for all ages. It’s unclear if this film was intended to be a reboot or sequel to Paint Drying: The Movie (2009), a 90 minute film available from Amazon.
The idea is amusing enough, and got social media support from people opposed to classification systems, but as a protest it’s not very effective. Film classifiers, depending on the country, are either working for the government or working for the film industry. Either way, they have no say in the laws or corporate agreements that require classification systems. In addition, classifiers in countries that require all films to be classified are used to watching enormous amounts of straight-to-video horror and porn (although, at least in Ontario, classifiers fast forward through porn films). They would probably find watching ten hours of paint drying a welcome break.
More significantly, opposition to classification systems tends to ignore the public demand and support for these systems. Democracies that run film classification and censorship systems do so because elected politicians brought in and maintain laws requiring these systems. In countries such as the United States, where classification is run by the film industry, the intention is to make it unnecessary for the government to respond to the public demand. These systems receive complaints for being too restrictive, particularly from artists and academics, but they also receive complaints for not being restrictive enough.
It’s not just overprotective parents who support classification systems. Theatre owners and video retailers support them. In Canada, distributors of exempt material, such as TV shows, obtain classifications to make it easier to sell their products. Possibly the businesses that support classification are still responding to the overprotective parents, and the rationale for classifications is often based on faulty assumptions, but regardless of the source and legitimacy of the demand for classification, it does exist. Film makers need to live with it.
A key concern of this project was the cost of film classification. The BBFC cost is £121.80 ($230) to submit, plus £8.51 ($16) per minute. This is much higher than in Canada, where rates are typically $2-$4 per minute. All agencies claim to be non-profit, though some Canadian agencies have been sources of income for the government. For major studios, classification costs are negligible, but for independent films they can be prohibitive. Classification agencies, and the lawmakers who control them, need to be more aware of the heavy costs classification can impose. This is where Paint Drying, which cost £5,936 ($11,175) to classify, may be able to draw some attention. Instead of trying to annoy the classifiers, or protest classification, film makers and film viewers need to ensure the government is not placing barriers in the way of independent productions or films with limited appeal. Canadian agencies offer some exemptions from classification or classification fees, but these vary from province to province and have limitations. For example, a festival film does not require classification in Ontario, however the viewers must be over eighteen.
This is not the first time artists have attempted to stymie classifiers. In the early 1980s, a group of artists submitted the anti-pornography documentary Not a Love Story (1981) to the Ontario Board of Censors (as it was then called). The Board refused to classify the film, leading to the claim that the Board had banned an anti-porn documentary. When the matter went to court, the judge noted that the artists had no legal right to exhibit the film, and that the Board was under no obligation to perform hypothetical reviews. The myth of the ban persists. Although the artists did score an anti-classification victory with another film, most films in much of Canada are still subject to prior restraint and bans. Rightly or wrongly, there is public support for this.