[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 32 (Monday, March 21, 1994)]
[House]
[Page H]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]
[Congressional Record: March 21, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]
THE NAZI DEATH CAMPS, AND ``SCHINDLER'S LIST''
The SPEAKER pro tempore. Under a previous order of the House, the
gentleman from California [Mr. Dornan], is recognized for 5 minutes.
Mr. DORNAN. Mr. Speaker, and my colleagues, I want to speak tonight
briefly about an incredible motion picture, ``Schindler's List.'' But
before I do, I will ask unanimous consent to put in the Record an
article from this week's USA Weekend. This has a multimillion
circulation. It is an article by a gentleman who I think is the best
movie critic in the United States, Michael Medved. He is as much a
philosopher as he is a critic of films.
Michael Medved writes an article entitled, ``It Is Safe To Go Back
Into the Dark,''meaning the darkness of movie theaters. He said that
Monday's Oscars, which start in about 24 minutes, will ``showcase a
welcome change at the movies, but there is a long way to go, a
controversial critic argues.'' By Michael Medved.
Now, of course, USA Weekend calls him controversial only because I
guess he believes in the Mosaic law and the ethics upon which this
country was built--Jewish/Christian ethics. He goes to synagogue and he
has respect for the Christian tenets that grew out of Judaism. He is a
hero to me.
I want to put this into the Congressional Record, his great article.
The article follows:
[From the USA Weekend, Mar. 18-20, 1994]
It's Safe To Go Back in the Dark
(By Michael Medved)
This year on Oscar night, at all the glamorous parties
around town, Hollywood really will have cause to celebrate.
The major nominees for Academy Awards represent the most
distinguished crop of contenders in recent memory and 1993
box-office figures reflect rekindled public enthusiasm for
the American film industry. After three consecutive years of
steadily shrinking attendance, the number of moviegoers
increased sharply.
In part, this unmistakable improvement in the public's
response to Hollywood stemmed from an industry-wide shift in
the direction of family entertainment. Those millions of
movie fans who'd been yearning for wholesome alternatives
discovered a startling wealth of new titles that parents and
children could enjoy together.
Future historians may, in fact, point to 1993 as a decisive
turning point for popular culture, with significant changes
in network television as well as motion pictures. The year
just passed could well be remembered as the year that
Hollywood finally got the message, and started to make a
serious effort to reconnect with the values of ordinary
Americans.
The readers of this magazine should know that they played a
part in this historic process. Two years ago, USA Weekend ran
early excerpts from my controversial book Hollywood vs.
America as a cover story under the title ``One angry
critic.'' The editors invited readers to call in to register
their agreement or disagreement with my statement:
``Hollywood no longer reflects--or even respects--the values
of most American families.''
The volume shattered all records from the magazine's
previous six years: 54,453 callers managed to get through on
the jammed phone lines to register their agreement; 21,221
callers said they disagreed. The actual number of ``yes''
votes would have been many times higher had the lines been
able to handle them all: Phone company computers registered
400,000 unsuccessful attempts to call the ``yes'' line.
This overwhelming reaction attracted a great deal of
attention in the entertainment industry, because it
corresponded so closely to accompanying evidence that
people meant what they said when they expressed a
preference for family-friendly material.
For a long time, the conventional wisdom in Tinseltown
dictated that a movie had to include harsh language, explicit
sex and vivid violence to rake in big bucks. But I proved in
Hollywood vs. America that this notion had no factual basis.
Comprehensive computer analysis showed that, when it came to
average receipts at the box office, G- and PG-rated movies
aimed at families outperformed ``hard-edged'' R-rated movies
more than 2-to-1. Moreover, this pattern of higher average
returns on movies with softer ratings repeated itself 10
years in a row, even as Hollywood steadily--and self-
destructively--increased the overall percentage of R-rated
material. In other words, an objective examination of the
commercial track record showed that the growing obsession
with sleaze and gore represented not only bad citizenship,
but also bad business.
A few weeks after the release of my book, the press
reported another major study that reached the same
conclusions. Paul Kagan Associates, one of the industry's
most respected consulting firms, declared: ``Ironically,
while R-rated films are less likely to score big at the box
office and are less profitable than films with other ratings
. . . the percentage of R-raters in the mix has increased
from 50.3 percent in 1989 to 58.2 percent in 1991.'' In other
words, the movie industry might not be evil--as many parents
had come to believe--but it most certainly could be described
as dysfunctional.
Before long, industry leaders began to face up to their
long, awkward record of ignoring the public. On Dec. 13,
1992, The Los Angeles Times ran an article headlined ``At the
box office, R doesn't rate as high as PG'' saying that
``Hollywood is taking note of two recent studies . . .
positing that PG-13 and lower ratings are more likely to turn
a profit than those rated R.'' The story went on to note that
even Eddie Murphy had agreed to restrain his penchant for
salty dialogue in the upcoming Beverly Hills Cop III--which
means that the irreverent young star might have to master a
whole new vocabulary.
Prestige journals started reporting a sea change in
Hollywood's thinking. The New York Times ran an analysis,
``Hollywood testing the financial value of family values,''
listing an impressive array of new projects the writer called
a ``feel-good flood.'' A few months later (March 22, 1993), a
Los Angeles Times story headlined ``A startling new concept:
family films'' quoted Bruce Berman, head of worldwide
distribution at Warner Bros., saying: ``This resurgence of
family pictures is no coincidence. We've begun to realize
there's a big audience out there.''
Many of his colleagues from the executive suites began
making similar pronouncements. On March 9, 1993, a year after
USA WEEKEND's ``One angry critic'' piece and the accompanying
call-in, Sony/Columbia Pictures chairman Mark Canton told the
leading convention of movie exhibitors: ``Together . . . we
can make the needed changes. If we don't, this decade will be
noted in the history books as the embarrassing legacy of
what began as a great art form. We will be labeled `the
decline of the empire.' . . . Any smart business person
can see what we must do: make more PG-rated films.''
Even Jack Valenti, an unfailingly eloquent apologist for
Hollywood as head of the Motion Picture Association of
America, took up the new theme. Delivering his annual ``State
of the Industry'' address to the same gathering Canton
addressed, he conceded: ``We have to increase the theater
audience. We just have to do it.'' He acknowledged that the
best way to achieve that purpose would be to ``start pictures
with less violence, less sensuality and less raunchy
language.'' Less than a year before, Valenti had attacked me
in a magazine interview as a ``singularly uninformed
individual who leaps from soggy premises to stupid
conclusions.'' Apparently, a few months' sober reflection
made my premises and conclusions look a good bit less soggy
and stupid, as he unmistakably echoed arguments that I had
been making for a long time.
As these Hollywood honchos' statements make clear, the
industry's new found enthusiasm for family entertainment in
no way represents an abrupt attack of conscience. But it does
reflect a spasm of enlightened self-interest and common
sense.
Pioneer movie mogul Samuel Goldwyn phrased the same common
sense in memorably concise terms some 50 years ago. ``It's
always better to sell four tickets than two!'' he repeatedly
reminded his underlings--suggesting that to lure Mom, Dad and
their two kids together is preferable to forcing the parents
to pay a baby sitter so they can go alone.
Fortunately, this logic provided its irrefutable force at
the box office in 1993. The three top money makers released
last year--Jurassic Park, The Fugitive and Mrs. Doubtfire--
all happened to be PG-13 movies with powerful appeal to kids
as well as their parents. Although may observers thought
Jurassic Park's rampaging dinosaurs were too menacing for
small kids, Steven Spielberg at least deserves credit for
toning down the gore and horror in the original book by
Michael Crichton. by the same token, had The Fugitive
appeared a few years ago, it might well have been an R-rated
bloodbath full of dismemberment and crude macho language; as
it was, director Andrew Davis kept faith with his broader PG-
13 audience by crafting a marvelously old-fashioned thriller
that kept you at the edge of your seat without trying to turn
your stomach.
At the same time, some of the most serious, brilliant (and
Oscar-contending) films were rated PG, including The Remains
of the Day, Shadowlands and The Age of Innocence. That last
title is an especially important milestone, because it is the
work of Martin Scorsese, Hollywood's most acclaimed director.
When this moody genius turns from Mean Streets to Clean
Streets, following up the lurid Last Temptation of Christ,
Goodfellas and Cape Fear with a stately, elegant adaptation
of an Edith Wharton novel, you can be sure powerful changes
are at work within the creative community.
Scorsese's shift illustrates one of the most positive
aspects of Hollywood's new directions, which involve slight
but significant changes in overall aesthetic standards, not
just a commercially motivated fad for ``kiddie'' flicks. In
the recent past, the most influential film commentators saved
their most lavish praise for dark, disturbing, ``cutting-
edge'' productions, as if we had abandoned traditional ideas
of beauty and worth, accepting the ability to shock as a
substitute for the old ability to uplift or inspire This
year, the movies that won the most prestigious Oscar
nominations reflect a far healthier diversity--beginning with
the likely winner for best picture.
The last two best picture winners, The Silence of the Lambs
(1991) and Unforgiven (1992), were technically brilliant,
superbly acted but spiritually empty explorations of the
depths of depravity, demonstrating the seductive power of
evil. Schindler's List, on the contrary, describes the
seductive power of goodness. It focuses on the convincing
transformation of a Nazi opportunist (Liam Neeson) into a
most unlikely savior who risks everything for others.
Though set in one of history's most tormented moments, it
stirs the soul with hope and gratitude.
Some of the nominated female actors show an even more
surprising and welcome development in this turning-point
year: a new willingness to look seriously, even
sympathetically, at religious faith. No issue has more
clearly demonstrated the entertainment industry's unnecessary
alienation of a huge segment of its potential audience than
the contemptuous attitude toward traditional believers in a
long series of recent (invariably money-losing) films. This
year, however, Debra Winger won a nomination for best actress
for her role in the exquisite Shadowlands, in which the faith
of both main characters, the famed Christian scholar C.S.
Lewis (Anthony Hopkins) and his late-in-life wife, Joy
Gresham (Winger), is presented with tenderness and respect.
And Rosie Perez is a frontrunner for the best supporting
actress award for her role in the haunting Fearless, which
probes questions of faith and fate with intensity and
integrity.
The crowd-pleasing Rudy, the inspiring story of an
undersized football wannabe who nurses impossible dreams of
playing for Notre Dame, features the most affectionate
characterization of a priest (played by Robert Proskey) since
Bing Crosby's death. At the same time, TV's L.A. Law welcomed
a ``born-again'' Christian character who, as played by
Alexandra Powers, amazed most observers by turning out to be
a beautiful, brilliant, capable idealist.
The recent changes are encouraging for many reasons, but
they hardly signify the start of a messianic age. Last year
helped to ease, but did not solve, Hollywood's ongoing crisis
in values. In spite of all the positive developments, the
industry still creates scores of exploitative, gratuitously
violent films, with far too many R releases (61.2 percent of
'93's total, according to MPAA figures) for an intelligent or
effective mix. Even worse are the out-of-place elements that
turn up even in family-oriented features, rudely shocking
moviegoers. Why include a sequence showing attempted date
rape in the charming Beethoven's 2nd? Why insert a scene into
the handsomely crafted Iron Will (one of '94's best family
films so far) in which the 17-year-old hero solves a crucial
problem by threatening a rival with a gun?
These are minor quibbles, of course, but they remind us
that the situation in the movie business is always fluid and
unpredictable, and that the current new directions will
continue only with encouragement from the public and critics.
Hollywood's recent renewal shows an aroused, engaged public
can have a profound impact on the direction of show business.
Two years ago, I ended my USA Weekend story by expressing my
``hope that this appalling but amazing industry will regain
its bearings and once again merit the affection of its
audience.'' We all can feel gratified that recent
developments have moved us closer to realizing that hope.
Mr. DORNAN. It shows the difference in 2 years, it shows the picture
of the great English actor Anthony Hopkins, who has been made a peer of
the realm, a lord, and it shows Lord Hopkins in March 1992, ``The
Silence of the Lambs.'' Hannibal Lector Cannibal. It shows him in his
Academy-nominated performance tonight, March 1994, ``Shadowlands.'' the
story of C.S. Lewis, Christian scholar.
Mr. Speaker, I went to see ``Schindler's List'' about 2 weeks ago.
The theater was almost empty. It was in a multiplex group of theaters.
I asked the manager why there was not a very big crowd. He said the
theater had filled the first week, but that people who had an interest
in the Holocaust were the ones who filled the theater. I believe it
will win the Academy Award as the Best Picture tonight. That will help
a little bit.
But he said he heard some people who came in to see other films say
they did not want to go through the experience.
Now, you cannot make a film about the Holocaust without shocking
people, without stabbing their conscience, without making them think
about the history of our times. As I heard Phil Donahue say on his show
the other day, he was alive while this was all going on; so was I and
so were you, Mr. Speaker. It is hard to believe that these nightmares
took place in the 1940's following the great world's fair in New York
in 1939 and 1940.
But the reason that this brilliant--and he is still very young--
director-producer, Stephen Spielberg put it in black and white was to
tone down some of the blood and the horror and also to capture the
starkness of World War II, which we recall in our memories as a black-
and-white war because of most of the newsreels.
I would say that someone cannot lay claim to being, not an
intellectual but an educated person alive today without seeing this
film. It is not a movie, it is an experience, an historical experience
like spending 3 hours and 15 minutes at the Holocaust Museum or as a
tourist, for example, going to a beautiful Bavaria in Germany, visiting
the pubs, the beer cellars in Munich, and then taking the time to go
less than an hour outside of Munich to the first of all the
concentration camps, Dachau, when it was run by Hess.
I took my younger son Mark--he is not so young, he is in his
thirties--a few years ago to a horrible experience but a deeply moving
one. We visited in Poland all of the extermination death camps; drove
40 minutes north of Warsaw to Treblinka, to Sobibor, spent the night,
then went to Belzec, to Mydanyck, and then we took a short detour to a
work camp called Placow. Little did I know that that would be the
principal camp in ``Schindler's List.''
Then we went to Auschwitz, the satellite camp Birkenau, and completed
the six camps designed just to exterminate millions of people up at
Chelmo. It was night, the third day had gone by, and my son sat across
the hood of the car and said, ``Dad, look at all the stars in the sky
and imagine each one of them as each one of the 6 million souls of the
Jewish people whom Hitler managed to exterminate until he ran out of
time.'' I reminded my son it was 12 million who died in the
concentration camps.
I would beg anybody, I repeat, who wants to engage in serious
conversation about the hate crimes arising over the world, even in our
own country; you cannot discuss skinheads, the Aryan nation, Farrakhan,
you cannot probably understand the whole crisis in the Middle East, the
up and off and on again peace process, unless you take the time to
visit the Holocaust Museum, as close to us as the Lincoln, closer than
the Lincoln Memorial, right next to the Washington Monument.
{time} 2040
And I would suggest that my colleagues, yes, subject themselves to
the intellectual exercise of sitting there and watching ``Schindler's
List.'' Spielberg is a remarkable young man. He already has the Irving
Thalberg Award for his life's work, and I will finish on this, Mr.
Speaker:
He is nominated for three awards for ``Jurassic Park,'' plain old
popular, populist film. He will win two of those. He is nominated 12
times for ``Schindler's List.'' I predict he will win 9 of those, maybe
10. To take 12, 11, even 10, but 15 nominations is incredible. See the
work of this fabulous young artist, and, even if he thinks the sixties
were the generation of greed, it made him a multimillionaire. So, we do
not agree on politics, but I certainly agree this young man is a
remarkable historian.
I say to my colleagues, ``Schindler's List''; see it, and you'll be
glad you did.
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