Greg Linnell*
Abstract
A descriptive analysis of the ways in which the non-denominational Protestant
monthly The Christian Herald attempted to mediate between Hollywood
and American Protestants reveals the complexity and variety of Christian
response to popular culture in the ostensibly quiescent and uniform 1950s.
Moreover, film reviews, editorials, commentary and letters to the editor
demonstrate how the Herald sought to exert control of Protestant
activity vis-à-vis motion pictures at a time when Protestants
were losing cultural hegemony and Hollywood itself was transitioning to
new forms of production and distribution. Even as the decade is renowned
for its biblical epics it becomes clear that concurrent legal and social
changes prepared the way for the marginalization and eventual ineffectuality
of concerted Christian action in this cultural area. These historical dynamics
comprise a necessary and proximate background to understanding more contemporary
developments such as the celebrated “culture wars” of the 1980s
and 1990s.
Introduction
[1] On September 19, 1959 Chairman Nikita Khrushchev of the Council of
Ministers of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) attended a
luncheon held in his honor at Twentieth-Century Fox Studios which was hosted
by both Spyros P. Skouras, head of the studio, and Eric Johnston, president
of the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA).[1] Khrushchev’s groundbreaking tour of the
United States had begun four days earlier and he and his entourage had
flown into Los Angeles from New York that morning. Now, the Studio’s
Café de Paris brimmed with stars–Kirk Douglas, Gary Cooper,
Elizabeth Taylor, Marilyn Monroe–and, as they sat eating, Skouras
rose to instruct Khrushchev in the benefits of the American way of life,
of how it had let him rise to the top of the movie-making profession. Not
to be outdone, Khrushchev responded with his own story of how he had risen
to the Premiership from lowly origins. This confrontation was exacerbated
by the sweltering Los Angeles weather, hot studio floodlights and Khrushchev’s
inability, due to security concerns, to visit a destination that he had
wanted to see, Disneyland. What transpired next, however, set the stage
for a significant discussion within the nation’s media.
[2] Lunch completed, Khrushchev was taken to the studio’s sound stages
and given the opportunity to view the filming of an upcoming release, Walter
Lang’s Can-Can, a vehicle for Frank Sinatra, Shirley MacLaine,
Maurice Chevalier and Louis Jourdan.[2] Initially, the Soviet leader appeared
to be enjoying the attention of the dancers but he quickly changed his
mind when photographers urged the women to raise their skirts. Khrushchev
used the incident to good effect when arguing with American labor leaders
in San Francisco the next day. In responding to charges that some literature
was suppressed in the USSR, Khrushchev suggested that Soviet and American
ideas of freedom differed greatly. With reference to his experience of Can-Can the
day before, Khrushchev continued:
[Y]ou and we have different notions of freedom. When we were in Hollywood
they danced the cancan for us. The girls who dance it have to pull
up their skirts and show their backsides. They are good honest actresses
but have to perform that dance. They are compelled to adapt themselves
to the tastes of depraved people. People in your country will go to
see it, but Soviet people would scorn such a spectacle. It is pornographic.
It is the culture of a surfeited and depraved people. Showing that sort
of film is called freedom in this country. Such “freedom” doesn’t suit
us. You seem to like the “freedom” of looking at backsides.
But we prefer the freedom to think, to exercise our mental faculties,
the freedom of creative progress.[3]
As could be expected, Khrushchev’s remarks appeared quickly in a
variety of influential publications. Most commentators were not surprised
by Khrushchev’s propagandistic use of the incident but, at the same
time, they questioned the wisdom of those who had given the Soviet leader
such a wonderful opportunity.[4]
[3] The incident proved to be more than just a Cold War cultural skirmish,
however, and one of the stories that emerged in its wake was that of divergent
Protestant responses to the challenges implicit in Khrushchev’s remarks
and represented explicitly in films like Can-Can. Columns by Murray
Shumach and Bosley Crowther in the New York Times together with
a report in Christianity Today provided accounts of a split within
the National Council of Churches’ (NCC) Broadcasting and Film Commission.[5] The
Commission’s West Coast Office head, George A. Heimrich, together
with J. Wayne Ulrickson’s Hollywood Ministerial Association, were
strenuous in their denunciations of the sex and violence that they felt
to be frequenting the screen at an increasing rate. Almost immediately,
however, Heimrich’s superior in the New York headquarters of the
Broadcasting and Film Commission, Robert W. Spike, assured MPAA president
Eric Johnston that Heimrich had not spoken for the Commission and that
overtures suggesting a boycott of specific films were, in fact, abhorrent
and foreign to Protestants. The incident with Khrushchev, then, laid bare
a complex network of cultural and theological positions and institutions
within American Protestantism, involving representatives of both the Protestant
establishment and its newer relation, Protestant evangelicalism.
[4] Another, more systematic way into this fascinating thicket of American
Protestant responses to Hollywood in the 1950s, also broaching the themes
revealed in the response to Khrushchev, is provided by the film reviews
of the Protestant Motion Picture Council (PMPC). Both the NCC and one of
the most popular religious magazines of the day, The Christian Herald (hereafter,
the Herald), believed these reviews to be of crucial significance
for the Protestant constituency in discerning, should they choose to do
so, which films to patronize.[6] The Herald,
in particular, is noteworthy because it not only published PMPC reviews
but also presented other forums in which to discuss the religious and socio-cultural
significance of both the Hollywood film industry and its product. Editorials,
feature articles, and awards, together with the PMPC reviews, were the
occasion for extended examinations of Protestant and Hollywood interaction.
It is this body of literature, heretofore unexamined by scholars of either
American cinema or American Protestantism, which comprises the focus of
the descriptive analysis to follow.[7] Indeed, the archival recovery of the Herald performed
herein acts in concert with those who seek to address a uniquely historical
lacuna within the study of American cinema and American Protestantism.
As such, this study is both an invitation to and prolegomenon for those
who also find themselves fascinated by these issues. In contrast to the
largely interpretive cast of much analysis in this area, this study instantiates
the argument that much more archival recovery and historical research can
and needs to be done.[8]
[5] This study commences with an analysis of the Protestant Motion Picture
Council’s reviews, published monthly in the Herald, and discloses
the working presuppositions and hoped for consequences of the reviews themselves.
With this fundamental understanding of the Herald and PMPC in view,
it is possible to consider three other areas of significance that predominate
over all others when reading the magazine: the Herald’s response
to the scandalous behavior of the stars and studios that promoted them,
the Herald’s response to films which exacerbated Protestant-Roman
Catholic tensions and, finally, the Herald’s response to the
prominent genre of the decade, the biblical epic. The conclusion offers
a larger context for this archival recovery of the Herald by positing
that the discourse mobilized by the magazine’s contributors comprises
a privileged access point for interpreting the significance of both a dominant
cultural industry and American Protestantism itself.
The Christian Herald and the Protestant Motion Picture
Council
[6] To a large degree the history of the Herald’s views on
film are interwoven with the various activities of the Protestant Motion
Picture Council. In order to understand how the Herald sought to
create more discriminating consumers in this area of entertainment, therefore,
it is necessary to recount the PMPC’s institutional history. Beginning
in the mid-1940s the PMPC, founded under the auspices of the Herald,
published monthly reviews of Hollywood’s latest offerings.[9] The
PMPC remained under the aegis of the Herald until 1950 when it appears
to have been subsumed by the newly organized National Council of Churches
of Christ (NCC) or, more specifically, the NCC’s Broadcasting and
Film Commission.[10] This
reorganization certainly gave its reviews more reach and, at one point,
the PMPC’s findings appear to have been published in over 400 religious
and secular periodicals each month.[11] The Herald continued to publish PMPC
film summaries and ratings until January 1966 when, with a change in editor,
it scaled down its listings and used “in-house” reviewers.[12]
[7] The PMPC chose approximately 25 volunteer reviewers who, for one full
day each week, met in New York to preview the latest Hollywood features
along with members of 11 other national organizations.[13] Once a month the reviewers
also met to discuss the reviews that they had given certain films and,
by articulating a consensus regarding standards and ratings, hoped to preclude
unwarranted and idiosyncratic judgments. The reviewers themselves were
meant to be a representative cross-section of the Protestants who both
subscribed to the Herald and, after 1950, were also members of the
denominations that comprised the NCC (thus promoting the non-sectarian
and ecumenical character of the NCC). Preachers, teachers, business men
and women, housewives and college students together with those engaged
in a variety of unique vocations (e.g., the associate director of the American
Prison Association previewed content for the prison population) reviewed
all domestic and most foreign feature films.
[8] Initially, films were labeled with one of four “audience suitability” ratings: “A”–Adults, “Y”–Young
People, “F”–Family and the infrequently used “Objectionable.” In
the mid-1950s, however, one more intermediate rating was added, “MY”–Mature
Young People.[14] The PMPC also developed ratings
specific to children’s films and thereby contributed to another organization,
the Children’s Film Library. Finally, the PMPC chose one film each
month as the “Picture of the Month” and, in January of each
year, solicited votes from readers as to which of the preceding twelve “Pictures
of the Month” should earn the coveted “Picture of the Year” (awarded
each March for the previous year). Both “Picture of the Month” and “Picture
of the Year” prizes were in the form of a bronze plaque and were
awarded to the producing studio.[15] There were three venues through which the PMPC reviews and/or
ratings were disseminated, sometimes commingled with the findings of other
organizations: the 400 magazines mentioned previously; the weekly ratings
summaries–known as “Joint Estimates of Current Motion Pictures”–sent
by the Film Estimate Board of National Organizations to film exhibitors
and theater managers nationwide; and the MPAA’s “Green Sheets” distributed
periodically to parents and to church, school, and civic leaders.[16]
[9] Given the preceding procedures, organizational structures, and patterns
of dissemination, how were the PMPC reviews to function in order to create
more discriminating consumers? Here it becomes necessary to reconstruct
the rationale that engendered the PMPC and it is soon apparent that several
related principles underwrote all of the Council’s endeavors. First,
it was felt that since new mass media technologies were encroaching increasingly
upon American family life it was now imperative that some Christian guidance
be given in order to “applaud the good and condemn the bad.”[17] That is, no realm of modern
life was to be condemned outright, particularly one that had demonstrated
repeatedly such a powerful effect for both good and ill on the populace.
Christians were, therefore, to be selective viewers and reviews would guide
them in thinking about the merits of a particular film. The PMPC and the Herald thus
promoted a policy of film betterment rather than film censorship–a
strategy very much akin to that proposed and practiced by Will Hays and
the Hollywood studios’ Committee on Public Relations in the early
1920s when dealing with reform group protests.[18]
[10] Secondly, reviews were meant for guidance only–they were not
to bind the individual reader to a specific course of action. Each month’s
reviews were prefaced with the following editor’s note:
Except where so stated, these reviews are not to be construed as endorsements,
either of specific films or of movie-going in general. They are for
the guidance of readers who attend motion pictures, not inducements
to those who do not. The “suitability” classification, moreover, is
no guarantee that the film is flawless; it is merely a guide. Films starred
(*) are of exceptional merit.[19]
Such an editorial note was meant to stave off complaints from more conservative Herald readers,
ever on the watch for signs of worldliness. By the same means, however,
the PMPC distinguished itself from the Roman Catholic Legion of Decency
by refusing to obligate the individual’s conscience: “The Council
has no intention of saying, ‘This is a film you should (or should
not) see,’ but provides the individual with information to help him
make his own decision.”[20] As editor Daniel Poling had written 3 years earlier, the Herald is
not for political censorship [i.e., federal regulation], which can and
often does become a greater evil than the thing it seeks to correct, but
for that much more effective censorship: (1) self-restraint by the industry
itself, and (2) greater taste and discrimination on the part of the buyer
which, in the long run, always determines what will live and what will
die.[21]
[11] Third, a refusal to censor the individual’s liberty vis-à-vis film
choice was matched by a similar refusal to call for the federal or state
censorship of motion pictures. Rather, the individual guided in the selective
consumption of good motion pictures would, consequently, encourage the
production of better films. In Bader’s formulation: “… the
Council feels a responsibility to provide concerned persons with some basis
for selection. And selection affects box-office receipts, and box-office
affects the new pictures to be made.”[22] This latter aim was never clearer
than when, every January, Herald readers were asked to vote for “Picture
of the Year”:
If you were asked who is the brightest star, the best director and the
biggest producer in motion pictures today, would it occur to you
to reply, “I
am?” As Mr. or Mrs. John Public – who must be pleased above
anyone else–you’re the top “star” of the whole
show. And by your patronage–or lack of it–you not only “direct” Hollywood
how to “act,” but you actually “produce” every
film that appears on the screen. If, therefore, you want more of the intelligent,
thoughtful, moral films that your entire family can enjoy and profit by
it, you merely have to say the word–by telling Hollywood what
to do. And the fastest way to do that is through Christian Herald’s “direct-line” service–its
annual nation-wide poll for the best film of the year. … Hollywood
is waiting to see what you will choose. The movie industry wants to grow
up. Its wants to give you the pictures YOU want. But to do that it must
have your critical judgment. So let’s tell Hollywood what to
do![23]
The “Picture of the Month” and “Picture of the Year” awards
were, then, another indication of the Herald’s attempt to
work with the industry–and to be seen doing so. Photographs of Herald editor
Poling awarding the plaques to studio producers both affirmed the Herald’s “applauding
the good” selectivity and sent a reassuring message to Herald subscribers
that their interests were being communicated to the highest levels of authority
within Hollywood. In other words, both Hollywood and the Herald benefited
from the awards because they demonstrated Hollywood’s willingness
to listen to the Protestant community and they legitimated the Herald’s
editorial policies regarding the selective consumption of popular culture
and the disinclination towards state-sponsored censorship.[24]
[12] In sum, the PMPC’s film reviews were to engender a more selective
and knowledgeable viewer–a viewer who would exercise his or her individual
liberty in consuming a grade of product that would, as a result of economic
self-interest, induce Hollywood to produce more of the same. Also entailed
in this appeal to “tell Hollywood what to do” was the belief
that the readers’ votes, together with the “Picture of the
Year” plaques, were productive interactions that Protestants could
have with Hollywood. Voting for good films was preferred to boycotting,
lobbying against or censoring bad films: “We do occasionally label
a movie completely objectionable … but we’re far more interested
in building a greater demand for good pictures than in condemning bad ones.”[25] Moreover,
Hollywood was perceived to be genuinely receptive to positive feedback
and would try to amend its ways in subsequent films. Based upon this perception
of the industry, the PMPC maintained a West Coast Office in Hollywood that
offered to consult the studios on scripts so as to prevent the production
of material offensive to Protestants. Implied in all these proactive strategies
was a critique of Roman Catholic practice that both the PMPC and the Herald believed
to usurp individual liberties and, on a larger social scale, threaten to
complicate America’s vaunted separation of church and state. On the
whole, then, the creation of a responsible viewer and a guarded cooperation
with the industry seemed to be the identifying traits of the PMPC and Herald strategy.
[13] The injunction to applaud the good and condemn the bad was also worked
out at the level of the individual film. Unlike some current Christian
reviewers, the PMPC reviewers did not set about inventorying objectionable
words or events and using a tally of occurrences as an index of the film’s
worth.[26] Rather, with
an eye towards the context presented in the film, reviewers noted those
elements which might give the spectator pause and sought to evaluate whether
or not the film treated them with perspicacity or, conversely, with exploitive
intent. That is, an element became objectionable if the film contextualized
it in such a manner as to suggest that, for example, the spectator could
interpret drunkenness or adultery as acceptable actions. The mere representation
of ways of life contrary to the Christian life promoted by the Herald and
the PMPC, however, was not enough to result in a negative evaluation.
Generally the previewers judge a movie in terms of its technical excellence,
its story, its dramatic quality, its moral and social values, the
attitudes it expresses toward religion, toward family life, toward social
problems–and
always in terms of its being interesting or entertaining. They don’t
object to drinking presented “for what it is”–as
in movies like The Lost Weekend, or when it is a necessary
part of the plot. They do, in general, object to what they describe
as “false values” in
terms of drinking or other things–that one must be wealthy
or glamorous to be happy, or must drink to be socially acceptable.[27]
Here it is possible to see how the PMPC reviewers had come to accept and
even promote the provisions of the Roman Catholic-sponsored Production
Code–a Code which Richard Maltby records Protestants as being hostile
to when it first appeared in the early 1930s.[28] Indeed, Golda Bader isolated one of the aims
of the PMPC as being to “uphold the observance of the industry’s
Motion Picture Code of Ethics and Morals [sic].”[29]
[14] Herald readers were at first wary of the PMPC’s film
reviews. When first introduced in the mid-1940s the reviews initiated a
wave of cancellations (10-25 per month) from more conservative readers.
Almost a decade later, however, less than one percent of subscribers thought
that the PMPC reviews were unnecessary.[30] Throughout the 1950s, occasional letters to
the editor questioning the value of the reviews always engendered a response
from subscribers affirming their utility. Two times during the decade the Herald published
both critical and affirmative letters together thereby demonstrating to
subscribers the different positions available to them but also instantiating
its editorial policy of encouraging the individual’s freedom of choice.[31] Overall, however, critical
subscribers raised questions not so much about the reviews themselves but
about the act of attending movie theatres and the Herald’s
policy of accepting advertising for Hollywood’s films. Of course,
both concerns–the movie theatre environment and the sometimes lurid
nature of motion picture advertising–had long been problematic for
reform groups.[32] In sum, though, most subscribers
appreciated the PMPC’s reviews for their use in pre-selecting acceptable
film entertainment.[33]
“Gentlemen, Its Up To You!”: Scandal and Its Consequences
[15] Subscribers were far more vocal and consequently generated more letters
to the editor about a series of specific issues that the Herald usually
addressed in the form of a feature article. At the beginning of the decade
the first of these articles, authored by managing editor Dr. Clarence Hall
in April 1950, was an open letter to the industry regarding its use of
scandal in publicizing both its films and stars. “Gentlemen, It’s
Up To You!” began by isolating an attitude that, in the wake of the
notorious Ingrid Bergman-Roberto Rossellini love affair, seemed to characterize
an emerging trend:
It is that attitude which seems to say–baldly, cynically and without
apology: “American people are essentially dirty-minded. The private
lives of film actors and actresses are interesting to the public only when
they involve uninhibited living. Because the average man and woman find
themselves hindered by social restraints from kicking up their heels, they
love to live vicariously in the lives of the stars. The morals of our stars
not only don’t count, but their immorality can, by smart exploitation,
be turned into substantial profit for all of us!”[34]
Hall next suggested that such “smart exploitation” was counter-productive
in that it actually contributed to declining box office–perhaps more
than the other factors cited by the industry (i.e., television, high taxes
on tickets, foreign market troubles, etc.). Rather:
It seems never to have to occurred to you that the movie-going public
may be staying away because of (a) the paucity of really worthwhile
pictures and (b) widespread and rising disgust with some of your stars’ public
behavior and your own inaction as regards it. The one has produced
indifference, but the other has produced indignation.[35]
Recounting how, under the threat of federal censorship, the studios established
self-regulation in the form of the Production Code and the Hays Office,
Hall cites the ruined careers of Fatty Arbuckle and Mary Miles Minter as
evidence that Hollywood once understood and had acted upon the agreement
that it had made with Americans.[36] To wit: scandalous behaviour would not be
tolerated either on- or off-screen and, in return, the studios
would remain free from government censorship. In recent years,
however, the studios had breached the terms of that contract and
were now publicizing a lewdness that disgraced “decent Americans.” The
scandals of Robert Mitchum, Errol Flynn, Robert Walker, Rita Hayworth
and Ingrid Bergman should have been handled in a manner similar
to those of Arbuckle and Minter. (In addition to these stars Herald editor Poling also censured Charlie Chaplin
for his offences.)[37] Apart
from the dubious moral and business sense indicated by such a
public relations strategy, Hall also criticized the studios’ rejoinder
to current criticism, namely, that as entertainment the movies
had no impact upon the morality of spectators. On the contrary,
given the prominence of the industry and its product, it was inevitable
that the movies both entertained and instructed, amused and influenced.
Indeed, Hall called the industry to task on this very point:
You are both [entertainers and instructors]. The very nature of your business
makes you that. On occasion, when it was to your advantage to do so, you
have stressed this point. It has been your great strength, and a various
times, as during the war, you have demonstrated how well you can instruct
and influence. As of now, it is your great weakness.[38]
[16] Besides attributing great persuasive power to the medium itself, Hall
analyzed the way in which stars were created and the ways in which they
functioned within fan culture. The mechanism by which the industry encouraged
identification between spectator and character also forged a no less powerful
relationship between spectator and actor (i.e., identification is activated
not only within the theatre, during the viewing experience, but is also
activated by public appearances, movie posters, contests, magazine articles–in
short, all of the ingredients of a fan culture). In Hall’s formulation,
the star was a byproduct of the mutually reinforcing dynamic between spectator,
character and actor. That is, the star was contingent upon both public
opinion and those narratives/characters deemed significant (thus making
for good box-office) by that public: “The stars are not ‘merely
private citizens,’ as some among you would now like to claim. They
owe their high station and their high salaries to public support.”[39] Stars were not created ex nihilo by the studios but
were, in fact, responsive to various aspects and sectors of modern American
society. As such, the flagrant disregard of American values as evident
in both the scandals themselves and the publicity of those scandals by
the industry could not be overlooked.
[17] In addition to critiquing the industry’s misapprehension of
its audience’s values, its misdiagnosis of the factors leading to
a declining box office, its failure to learn from its own history with
respect to the threat of censorship and, finally, its self-serving proposal
that motion pictures only entertained, Hall also tried another approach
in his article. In keeping with the Herald’s injunction to
promote “the good” within American culture, Hall refused to
condemn the industry wholesale but sought instead to demonstrate the goodwill
of Protestants to Hollywood by both recognizing good people within the
industry and by proposing a solution to the problem of scandalous stars.
First, recognition of the conscientious personnel at work in Hollywood
would help in the recuperation of the movie colony’s tarnished image:
… this and all other recent exploitations of your morally loose
stars is an unforgivable insult to the many fine and decent people in Hollywood
who are fighting against great odds to reflect credit on the movie colony.
We’ve insisted all along that Hollywood, so far from being a cesspool
of sin and vice, is comprised for the most part of sincere, hardworking,
decent people. Gentlemen, you haven’t helped us much in putting
this truth across! Instead you allow the hopheads, the drunks, the
wife-traders, the reefer-smokers and flagrant philanderers to represent
the colony. We insist that this is stupid showmanship.[40]
This first strategy, then, functioned to keep the lines of communication
between Protestants and Hollywood open by refusing to justify a complete
refusal of one by the other. Moreover, Hall could appreciate the majority
of Hollywood workers because they were “sincere, hardworking, decent
people.” The second strategy, involving a means by which to exert
some degree of control over morally troublesome actors, was proposed by
Joseph Finnerman, an exhibitor from Indiana, and endorsed by the Allied
States Association, an independent exhibitors trade organization. Significantly,
this proposal to apply sanctions (i.e., suspensions and fines) to actors
came from those within the industry and not, as might have been expected,
from “bluenoses” or reform groups.[41]
[18] Although critical, Hall’s letter to the industry did not threaten
boycotts or other heavy-handed actions. He did, however, conclude by invoking
what he thought the industry would view to be an apocalyptic scenario–the
enactment of federal censorship–that could only be averted if Hollywood
heeded his warning. Such an event, brought about by less democratic forces
(read Roman Catholic), would contravene long-standing Herald policy
and would not be, therefore, the best way in which to resolve the problem.
As we write this, Stromboli and other [Ingrid] Bergman films
are meeting with bans and boycotts galore. All this could easily snowball
into something far more serious for you. Let us make it plain that censorship,
except as it be by the individual on the basis of conscience, or
self-applied by an industry to protect itself against itself, is something
we unalterably oppose. Federal- or state-imposed censorship, whether
of movies or books or magazines or radio, is both dangerous and un-American.
You have good reason to fear it. But, gentlemen, you are laying yourselves
wide open for the very thing you fear. Once before, faced by the threat
of political censorship, you did some very fast and quite effective
house-cleaning. It looks like the time has come for another clean-up.
Whether you do it yourselves, or whether you wait for public indignation
to roll censorship down upon you, is up to you. If you won’t or can’t
control the public misdoings of your ambassadors of ill will, you will
most assuredly get controls imposed from the outside, such is the temper
of the people today.[42]
Here Hall and the Herald positioned themselves explicitly as the
reasonable mediators in a looming battle, as the well-meaning conscience
of an industry for which they, despite all provocations, still had respect.
In this way, they owned up to a role carefully prepared for them in the
1930s when the studios had sought to court the favour (or, cynically, co-opt
the critical function) of reform groups by involving them in the industry.[43]
[19] Hall’s letter generated two types of response, that of letters
to the editor and, a few months later, a short-lived series featuring profiles
of religious believers within Hollywood. The letters to the editor were
compiled and excerpts from 14 were published in the July 1950 issue. Readers
agreed with the strategies employed by Hall, specifically the clarity and
rhetorical forcefulness of his criticism coupled with his recognition that
the majority of those in the industry were working to reform it from within.
In addition, the Herald chose to publish the letters of two Roman
Catholics to suggest both the ecumenical appeal of Hall’s analysis/recommendations
and, not so subtly, the inadequacy of the traditional Catholic response
to Hollywood.[44] Further indication of Hall’s success
in voicing Christian indignation at Hollywood together with the Herald’s
plans to showcase those in the industry who merited appreciation came in
the editor’s note that accompanied the letters:
Our sincerest thanks to the above, as well as to the many scores of
others who wrote us regarding our Open Letter to the Motion Picture
Industry. The article has been reprinted widely in the nation’s press. In the
near future we hope to feature some of those Hollywood personalities whose
moral and spiritual life is the best bolster of our statement that the
industry’s exploitation of its misbehavers is a gross insult
to them as well as to other decent Americans.[45]
[20] The series was entitled “The Faith of the Stars” and ran
from August of 1950 to November of 1952, though most installments were
published in 1951.[46] The
format of each installment was the same, namely, a short introduction in
which the actor’s church affiliation was named, the activities that
he or she participated in and, after a short word from the actor’s
minister, the testimony of the actor vis-à-vis the centrality
of their faith for their life. Each installment emphasized the degree to
which the actor’s religious life included far more than church attendance.
Involvement with committees and clubs was combined with a deep personal
piety. Interestingly, and perhaps as a further demonstration of the Herald’s
commitment to a non-sectarian religiosity, the August 1951 issue introduced
a Roman Catholic (Pat O’Brien) and the September 1951 installment
showcased a follower of Judaism (Eddie Cantor). In addition to these two,
the following stars were introduced during the series: Lee Bonnell, Barbara
Britton, Wendell Corey, Don DeFore, Dale Evans, Lon McCallister, Dennis
Morgan, Eleanor Powell, Roy Rogers, Randolph Scott and Gale Storm. It seems
that the series achieved its purpose of demonstrating religious faith in
Hollywood with at least one subscriber appreciative of the information
provided on each star.[47] The
desire to showcase both the laudable personnel within the industry and
the potential for religious film production would recur throughout the
decade, inviting Herald readers to be selective or discriminating
in their criticism and patronage.[48]
Il Miracolo and Martin Luther: An Aside on Protestant-Roman
Catholic Relations
[21] No less intriguing than scandalous stars, two films, Roberto Rossellini’s Il
Miracolo (1948) and Louis de Rochemont’s Martin Luther (1953),
provoked significant editorials and articles in the Herald during
the decade. The significance of these films and the discourse within
the Herald that they engendered was to be found in how they reflected
the mid-century relationship between Protestantism and Roman Catholicism.
Once again, it is impossible, having examined the particulars of this
debate, to subscribe to a simplistic rendering of the relationship between
these two forms of American Christianity. For example, although fully
in agreement with Hall’s earlier polemic against the Rossellini-Bergman
scandal and personally having a “deep-seated aversion” to
Rossellini’s films, Poling refused to join conservative Catholic
overtures calling for the banning of the director’s film due to
its ostensible sacrilege. Instead, his editorial of April 1951–“Something
Worse Than The Miracle”–reiterated many of the positions
already examined (e.g., the need for individual liberty and the dangers
of federal censorship). Moreover, Poling lent support to the Herald’s
ecumenicity by quoting extensively from moderate and liberal Catholics
who also opposed the banning of the film. Indeed, in commenting upon
the May 1952 ruling by the Supreme Court that struck down the ban, Poling
wrote “the decision is neither pro-faith nor anti-faith, pro-Catholic
nor anti-Catholic, pro-Protestant nor anti-Protestant. It is pro-American.”[49] The
real danger lay elsewhere, in those who would force or impose their
religious convictions on Americans:
Dangerous and indeed disastrous it would be if you or I, individually
or as Protestant, Catholic or Jewish groups, could force a partisan
or sectarian definition of “sacrilege” upon America. All
the freedoms today are in one package and they must be for all if they
are to exist.[50]
[22] The film Martin Luther was named “Picture of the Month” in
May of 1953, earning an excellent review.[51] The
PMPC reviewer interpreted the film to address “the struggle of a
soul to be free”–a reading echoed in the October 1953 National
Council Outlook when its reviewer saw the film as relating “a
message of Christian liberty and freedom of conscience.” That same
October the Herald published remarks by the film’s director,
Irving Pichel, also reinforcing the idea that despite its obvious historical
referent the film was really about “the struggle for human freedom.” It
is with the March 1954 awarding of the “Picture of the Year” plaque
to Martin Luther that the Herald’s interpretation of
the film links individual freedom with ecumenism. In an advertisement for
the film a quote from a Catholic reviewer assures the reader that “there
is little to offend the Catholic moviegoer, for this life of Luther is
told with a quiet dignity and without prejudice.” That is, the film
was really about the struggle for individual liberty with Luther becoming
a religious figure that unified all Christians, both Protestant and Catholic.
Such an interpretation comported well with both a Cold War critique of
totalitarianism and the felt need on the part of Protestants to assert
their leadership of and significance for the culture–a culture that
evidenced ostensibly increasing Catholic strength internally and threatening
geopolitical circumstances externally.
[23] This ecumenical venture was threatened later in the decade, however,
when Catholics in Chicago managed to pressure a television station into
canceling a telecast of the film, originally planned for December of 1956.
Poling’s editorial in February of 1957 pointed out that the film
had not been banned by the Legion of Decency upon its initial theatrical
release and reiterated arguments against censorship and for freedom of
the press. Given that the film was “not sectarian” and that
the television station had shown Catholic shows without Protestant protest,
such a move on the part of some Chicago Catholics was deemed even more
offensive. More debate followed.[52]
Biblical Epics: Discretion in Action?
[24] Many of the emphases already examined in the previous editorials,
articles and letters to the editor also emerged in the third area of significance:
the Herald’s ongoing appraisal of the biblical epics of the
1950s. For example, the PMPC’s endorsement of some of these films
did not abrogate the individual’s decision-making. Similarly, the
intent to showcase the good within the industry by means of the “Faith
of the Stars” series was mirrored in the forum that the Herald gave
figures like director Cecil B. DeMille and Paramount president Spyros P.
Skouras in their attempts to relate motion pictures and religion. Another
characteristic of PMPC and Herald practice–the attempt to
unify American Christians with a non-sectarian, ecumenical religiosity– was
often reflected in the reviews given some of these epics. These various
issues, then, came together and were manifest in the discourse that the Herald brought
to bear upon this paradigmatic film genre.
[25] Throughout the decade, Hollywood’s biblical epics were prominent
in the PMPC reviews.[53] Several
won “Picture of the Month” (The Robe, Demetrius and
the Gladiators) and “Picture of the Year” (David and
Bathsheba, Quo Vadis, The Ten Commandments) awards.[54] These films were also accompanied
by one-column or full-page advertisements, often addressed specifically
to Herald readers.[55] For example, the full-page ad for MGM’s Quo
Vadis featured the following text at the top of the page and surrounded
by line drawings of trumpeters who announced “a momentous motion
picture event for the readers of the Christian Herald!”[56] Or consider this from the Herald of
April 1958: “Paramount Pictures gratefully acknowledges the Christian
Herald Readers’ Award to Cecil B. DeMille for his production The
Ten Commandments.” In addition, many advertisements drew attention
to the technology involved in bringing the epic to the screen. Quo Vadis highlighted
its use of the Technicolor process while ads for The Ten Commandments celebrated
its use of Vistavision.[57] In
20th Century-Fox’s promotion of The Robe this tendency
to showcase the technology at work in the film achieved its apogee. Whereas
other ads usually indicated the basic biblical themes told in the film,
the ads for The Robe introduced the film with the following text
(which took up almost half of the space available):
20th Century-Fox presents the New Dimensional Photographic
Marvel! The Modern Miracle You See Without Glasses! The most sensational
development since the birth of sound! A vast and wonderful panorama
of life-like realism and infinite depth. CinemaScope’s amazing Anamorphic Lens Process
on the newly created, curved Miracle Mirror Screen opens new vistas of
entertainment. CinemaScope’s new Stereophonic Sound System
achieves unprecedented heights of participation. The magic of CinemaScope
makes you part of The Robe. You share the miracle of this
wondrous drama which “reaches out” to encompass you in its awe-inspiring grandeur.
Ten years in preparation … two years in production, a cast
of thousands![58]
Six months later, in April of 1954, 20th Century-Fox ran a similar
ad, this time laid out in such a way that the reader would have to rotate
the magazine in order to read the text and see the stills from the film–thus
approximating in print the aspect ratio of CinemaScope.
[26] Despite the laudable subject matter and the impressive advertising
campaigns that accompanied most of these films, PMPC reviewers and Herald feature
writers did not blindly endorse each film: “The Bible is, of course,
a fertile source for film scenarios and many pictures are produced with
a biblical background. But this doesn’t mean they automatically win
favor with Christian folks. Some, as a matter of fact, have been quite
shoddy.”[59] Rather, each epic was evaluated not only in
terms of its contextualization of controversial elements but, more specifically,
also with regard to issues emerging from its adaptation of biblical source
material. Time and again the reviews made implicit and explicit reference
to standards that measured both formal and thematic aspects of a given
film. For example, given the technical innovations just mentioned–Technicolor,
CinemaScope, Vistavision, stereophonic sound–the function of spectacle
within the film became an indicator of whether or not it was acceptable
entertainment. That is, spectacle was seen as a hindrance to the clear
communication of the “spiritual message” of the film while,
on other occasions, spectacle was perfectly combined with story to result
in an uplifting and exhilarating experience. The best films managed to
achieve a balance between the epic and the intimate, the flamboyant and
the restrained.[60]
[27] Also of importance to PMPC reviewers was the film’s fidelity
to the biblical account. Had characters and events been portrayed accurately?
This criterion not only meant adherence to the Bible’s narrative
but also included any attempts by the studio to engage in historical research
in order to lend authenticity to, for example, costumes and set design.
Films that failed to live up to both of these senses of fidelity and accuracy
were either condemned or, positively, categorized as historical fiction.
For example, the reviewers rated Salome “Objectionable” because “many
liberties have taken with the Bible’s brief account of the part Salome
played in the death of John the Baptist.”[61] Similarly, Solomon
and Sheba was excoriated because it cynically used the brief biblical
account as a pretext for sex and violence.[62] Quo Vadis and The Robe, however,
though largely fictional and making only a few references to events in
the biblical record, offered narratives that reaffirmed basic elements
of the Christian faith (e.g., sacrifice, personal redemption). They were,
therefore, recognized as acceptable historical fiction.[63] A final standard for the epic was its promotion
of a non-sectarian religiosity. David and Bathsheba was noted as “an
important section in the history of the Hebrew people” and The
Ten Commandments was “cited by leaders of all faiths as a spiritually
enrichening experience making the Bible thrillingly alive.”[64] Taking these standards into account, the paradigmatic
epic was undoubtedly DeMille’s The Ten Commandments. According
to the PMPC standards just outlined, DeMille’s film excelled in the
technical, historical research and ecumenical aspects:
This Biblical epic portraying the life of Moses, taken from the Bible
and other ancient writings with several additions from fiction, has
a ring of authenticity and accuracy. In Technicolor and Vistavision,
it is impressive, not only by the number of people involved, the period
covered and the backgrounds used and recreated, but also because of
the infinite care spent on research. The eternal struggle of mankind
for freedom of the individual soul against tyranny is well developed.
Several episodes stand out … Although
there are thousands taking part, there is no confusion.[65]
Further knowledge about the technical aspects and historical research involved
in the making of the film were made available in an article by Kay Marten
which recounted the arduous location shooting and the obsessive attention
to detail.[66]
[28] The non-sectarian and ecumenical religiosity suggested by the Herald,
the PMPC and DeMille’s film itself warrants further analysis. In
the review just cited, the basic theme of the film–“the eternal
struggle of mankind for freedom of the individual soul against tyranny”–reiterates
the interpretation of many other films praised by the PMPC during the decade,
particularly Martin Luther and Spartacus.[67] DeMille was well-represented
in the Herald for, in addition to the occasional pictures of DeMille
with people connected to the Herald and the PMPC, there were two
full-length articles which gave him the opportunity to expound on his vision
of religion and the cinema.[68] (No
other filmmakers were afforded this opportunity.) The first, Roy L. Ruth’s “Cecil
B. de Mille [sic] Testifies,” contextualizes some of the director’s
early work by subsuming it to his basic desire to both communicate the
significance of Christ for the individual and the world and, in the case
of Samson and Delilah, to demonstrate the power of prayer.[69]
One of the most important things to get across to the modern world … is
an understanding of the power of prayer. Prayer is thought contact with
the Holy Spirit. It is the greatest power in the world! … Modern
man is a giant bestriding the world he has subdued and is already reaching
out toward other planets– literally new worlds to conquer.
But, like Samson of old, he is a giant who has gone blind. His vision
of the spiritual realities summed up for us in Jesus of Nazareth
has gone. And, like Samson, he may pull down upon himself the marvelous
temple of civilization which he himself has built. That will inevitably
happen unless we get our vision back and make it work.[70]
DeMille, though referencing the Christian tradition, really sought to impress
upon spectators the need to return to fundamental precepts–“our
vision”–in order to preserve American society, to “make
it work.” This apparently instrumentalist and pragmatic program for
religion and the cinema was even more pronounced in the second article,
written by DeMille himself and entitled “Why I Made The Ten Commandments.” Here
the director began by describing the contemporary context that provoked
the making of the film:
This is the most modern picture I have ever made, because the struggle
between the forces represented by Moses and those represented by
Pharaoh is still being waged today. Are men free souls under God or
are they the property of the State? Are men to be ruled by law or by
the whims of an individual? The answers to these timely questions were
given some three thousand years ago on Mount Sinai’s pinnacle.[71]
This Cold War-induced Manichean view of the sociopolitical choices available
to Herald readers was accompanied by a no less strongly articulated
religious ecumenism. Indeed, only a robust religious alliance to secure
the freedom of the individual and the rule of law could oppose the Communist
occlusion of the individual by the collectivity and the subordination of
all to one man, Stalin. Given that American society exhibited different
religious commitments, however, the grand unifying religiosity that DeMille
appealed to and relied upon had to be non-sectarian and amenable to universal
application. Under these terms it would seem that the exclusivity of Jesus
Christ is superseded by the inclusivity of Moses and the laws that he brought:
A high statesman from one of the largest Moslem countries in Asia urged
me again and again to make this picture with–and I quote him–the “definite
objective to bring about religious understanding with a view to the safe-guarding
of our free and democratic way of life.” It should not surprise
us that a leading Moslem should show so much interest in The Ten Commandments,
for Moses is as highly honored as a prophet in Islam as he is in Judaism
and Christianity. Is it too much to hope that our production of The
Ten Commandments might help to do what centuries of bloodshed
and argument have failed to do–remind the adherents of the
Jewish, Christian, and Moslem faiths that they all spring from a
common source and that they have in Moses a binding tie, a universal
prophet, and in the Decalogue a universal law of brotherhood?[72]
DeMille, then, seems to promote a civil religion that combines the achievements
of American democracy with appeals to seemingly universal, albeit vaguely
Judeo-Christian, standards. DeMille accomplishes this with a hermeneutic
wherein biblical stories become mere allegories and biblical figures become
mere examples–allegories and examples that are universal enough to
be found in many of the world’s religions. This civil religion was
not yet abstract enough to have jettisoned its specific appeals to the
West’s Judeo-Christian heritage but it certainly represented a view
of religion and Christianity that other Protestants had great difficulty
in accepting.[73]
[29] Others within the pages of the Herald corroborated DeMille’s
hermeneutic with respect to the religious and socio-cultural significance
of the cinema. Twentieth Century-Fox studio head Spyros Skouras, who would
host Khruschev seven years later at the luncheon mentioned at the beginning
of this essay, declared:
The screen will never cease to be conscious of its tremendous responsibilities
to the cause of religion. Church and screen are joined together in
the defense of the spiritual heritage of Western civilization against
the threats of pagan philosophy. Among civilized people no medium of
communication is more sensitive to the spiritual aspirations of humanity
than the screen … Producers
should be encouraged by Protestants and Catholics alike to produce
religious subjects in order to combat the godless common enemy, communism.
This is the great crusade of modern time. It brings us once more a shining
opportunity to exalt the well-being of mankind. As representatives of
the church and screen, we can share in the crusade.[74]
Of course, such a “noble mission” for the film industry was
not unique only to film directors and studio heads hoping to curry the
favour of Protestant America. Rather, it can be shown that this self-understanding
of the cinema’s contribution to democracy was prevalent industry-wide
throughout the decade.[75] What
is important to realize, however, is that the Herald and many of
its readers found such sentiments to be salutary and, therefore, worthy
of support. Similarly, the anger evident in Paul M. Stevens’ critique
of the industry’s policy vis-à-vis foreign release
prints can be understood only if he and, by extension, the Herald and
many of its readers, had come to accept as normative DeMille and Skouras’ conception
of the industry’s significance in the promotion of the American way
of life.
Our nation produces a dearth of good material for the screen. At the
same time, there is an abundance of trash available which collectively
paints the United States as a nation of hypocrites, gangsters, idiots,
wastrels and sex devotees. That’s why in Communist-dominated countries where
American radio and TV programs are barred, American movies are welcomed
with open arms. … Such products only confuse our world neighbors
and give comfort to the Communists who welcome every “proof”–no
matter how small–that we are a dissolute and depraved nation.[76]
[30] If the biblical epics were one important site for the reconciliation
of the industry with institutional religion and, at the same time, significant
in the formation of the civil religion native to the Herald’s
mainline Protestantism, then criticism of these films would have to be
deemed, at the very least, noteworthy. In July 1955 the Herald published
its only lengthy critique of this genre during the decade, a polemic by
J.C. Furnas entitled “Look What Hollywood’s Doing to Your Bible!” Furnas
mounts a multi-pronged attack of biblical epics in which he contests the
common interpretation of their significance. Whereas some epics were critiqued
by the PMPC because they were either pretexts for violence and salacious
costumes/situations or because they did not adhere to the biblical account,
Furnas extends the coverage of these critiques to encompass all epics from
D. W. Griffith to DeMille. Furthermore, even ostensibly laudable efforts
like The Robe fall under his condemnation because of their status
as historical fiction. That is, such films work to direct the spectator’s
interest away from the legitimate biblical message as if it were, somehow,
inadequate to the function of informing, entertaining and edifying. Particularly
galling for Furnas was the tendency of scriptwriters to derive an entire
film from the sparest of biblical texts and, consequently, to emphasize
those elements within the text that were of secondary importance to the
main message.[77] Contrary to what producers
may have thought, such hermeneutical shortcomings were not outweighed by
so-called “research” or lengthy production schedules or on-location
shooting. Another aspect of the biblical epic that aggravated Furnas was
its predictability. The narrative conventions in place no longer surprised
the spectator and interest, consequently, was to emerge from other elements
(e.g., sex and violence).
Just as crime movies are 98 per cent glorification of felons and two
percent hurried crime-doesn’t-pay at the end, so Bible movies
run pretty solid honky-tonk sex and comic-book violence, barely remembering
to conclude with a sickly religiosity.[78]
True to another policy articulated in the Herald, however, Furnas
didn’t recommend federal censorship. Rather, he praised a production
like Martin Luther because of its close ties to the Lutheran Church
and imagined that other church groups could put up “the several hundred
thousand dollars–not [the] several Demillions [sic]–that
it would cost” to do something similar.[79]
[31] Needless to say, Furnas’ polemic generated a tremendous response.
Foremost among the avalanche of replies was a letter from Art Arthur of
Paramount Pictures. Arthur’s essential complaint was that the Herald failed
to adhere to its own principle of selectivity by allowing Furnas to lump
DeMille in with all other producers of biblical epics. Furthermore, in
demonstration that such guilt-by-association did not fit DeMille’s
filmmaking, Arthur proceeded to list the many citations and awards given
to the long-time Paramount director by Protestant organizations, including
the Herald. In effect, the Furnas article was a betrayal of the
relationship built up between the Herald and those within the industry
who had sought to do good. In reply, the Herald admitted that it
had, in the past, honored DeMille and continued to view him as a “shining
exception to those in Hollywood who would misuse the Bible for their own
gain.”[80] The Herald did not,
however, retreat from asserting an author’s right to freedom of expression
and freedom from censorship. Other responses to Furnas were varied. Some
agreed that something had to be done to prevent such material from reaching
the screen–calling the films “blasphemy”–while
others were more moderate and posed a question in response to Furnas: “I
would really like to know just how that story taken from the parable [of
the prodigal son] as told by our Lord could possibly be made into anything
without some sin in it. If Christ did not omit the sin, why should we do
so?”[81] Even ministers
could not reach a consensus on the issues raised by Furnas with some agreeing
with his protest while others came close to labeling Furnas a naïve
Fundamentalist who operated with an inadequate (i.e., literalistic) hermeneutic:
Intelligent people view all motion pictures with some reservations and
never accept them as infallible; and these Hollywood pictures depicting
the Bible are no exception. I am sure that they are not claiming
any ecclesiastical or theological dogmatism when they produce their
biblical films. Their pictures are merely their interpretations of the
Bible; and aren’t
all interpretations of the Bible just a matter of individuality?
Surely Christendom itself does not agree on biblical interpretation.
Then why all this excitement about Hollywood?[82]
Given both the PMPC’s ongoing positive appraisals of the biblical
epics and the Herald’s promotion of DeMille’s The
Ten Commandments just two years later it would seem that critical voices
like those raised by Furnas were marginalized by the mainline Protestantism
served by and speaking through the Herald. Although patience with
Hollywood sometimes wore thin–as in an indignant exposé of
the differing ploys for marketing the epics to exhibitors and church groups–by
and large Herald readers supported the initiatives of the magazine.[83] As we have seen, however, its policy of selectivity and support
for the good within the industry belied its adoption of strategies created
in Hollywood–strategies that were, moreover, mutually beneficial
for the industry and those in positions of authority and leadership within
the mainline Protestant community.
Conclusion
[32] The 1950s present a fascinating object of historical inquiry with
respect to the varieties of Protestant response to Hollywood. Against the
backdrop of a plethora of sources and, specifically, in its consideration
of star scandals, Roman Catholic-Protestant debate over The Miracle and Martin
Luther and in its review of the biblical epics, the Herald comes
to represent an intriguing figure for historical appraisal.[84] Indeed,
these discussions and reviews are remarkable for they confound the common
belief that Protestants have only recently begun to launch substantial
dialogue with and not just criticism of the film industry and popular culture.[85] As
we have seen, this literature sought to accomplish a variety of interrelated
socio-cultural functions: to wit, the formation of a uniquely Protestant
voice to guide families in their consumption of popular culture and, furthermore,
to provide an assertion of Protestant significance for not only Hollywood
but also the culture at large. Parsing this sentence–as the preceding
study has done–reveals the complexities of Protestantism and the
period itself. That is, the Herald, though positioned by historians
as pursuing some evangelical objectives, nonetheless, in its utilization
of PMPC reviews, also demonstrates an allegiance to mainline Protestant
goals.[86] This type of complexity is
well documented and analyzed further by the major scholars of modern American
religious history.
[33] One of the most apparent areas of complexity characterizing the Herald was
its commitment to both a robust ecumenism that would embrace moderate and
liberal Catholic opinion and, at the same time, its articulation of “a
uniquely Protestant voice” in order to ensure an ongoing socio-cultural
hegemony. The clearest expression of this hegemonic stance was revealed
most clearly in Herald managing editor Clarence Hall’s paean The
Protestant Panorama (1951)–a celebratory polemic which is paradigmatic
in its elision of freedom, liberty, capitalism and even America itself
with Protestantism.[87] Following
in the wake of well-known “events” like the Protestant reaction
against the American envoy to the Vatican (1948) and Paul Blanshard’s American
Freedom and Catholic Power (1949; followed by Communism, Democracy
and Catholic Power in 1951), the Herald itself was not innocent
of the cultural politics of the period. A very public concern with the
perceived displacement of Protestants as the leaders of American life was
not only examined in Will Herberg’s landmark study of 1955 but was
also, as we have seen, articulated in the pages of the magazine itself.[88] And yet, simultaneously, the Herald’s
insistence on the primacy of Protestantism was somewhat compromised by
an ecumenical appeal to Catholics in the struggle with the film industry
(e.g., the “Faith of the Stars” series and a salutary acknowledgement
of moderate Catholic opinion on The Miracle and Martin Luther).
In this respect, then, the discourse surrounding film displays the tension
between upholding the singular significance of Protestantism for America
and, on the other hand, an incipient awareness that only by cooperating
could Protestants and Catholics assert their importance for an increasingly
secular postwar culture.
[34] Yet another incipient conflict was evident in the dialectic between
the grand unfolding of a unified Protestantism and a no less fervent and
concurrent allegiance to individualism. Robert Wuthnow has noted that “religion
was a dense forest of organizations” and that it evinced a “vast
organizational infrastructure”[89] during this period. This was the concomitant of the ecumenical
movements that marked post-war Protestantism. The Herald and the
PMPC participated fully in the proliferation of institutional relationships,
so much so that, as noted earlier, it becomes difficult to ascertain the
precise origins of the PMPC. The National Council of Churches, the Protestant
Film Commission and the Herald all seem to have participated in
the development of the PMPC. In tension with this commitment to developing
a bureaucracy is a demonstrated privileging of the individual, whether
that be the individual consumer deciding for herself what movie to attend
or the heroic individual of the biblical epic standing in opposition to
pagan Rome or the focus on the faith of an individual star. The Herald’s
ideal individual is a twin to that analyzed by Wuthnow and envisioned by
the mainline Protestantism of the period. Indeed, the “Protestant
significance” resides in part in its claim that the spiritual growth
of individuals was cardinal and that no activity was too incidental to
this task.
Religious individuals … would be enjoined to work actively in the
world for goodness and righteousness. And they would be enjoined to do
so, not simply on the basis of some vague doctrinal tradition, but in the
context of discourse about opportunities and threats … even
small tasks could contribute to larger goals.[90]
Careful evaluation of the PMPC reviews, voting for “Picture of the
Month” or “Picture of the Year,” and, most importantly,
resisting those who called for restraint on individual freedom and liberty
by enacting federal censorship were all “small tasks” that
strengthened the religious individual while, at the same time, contributing
to the formation of a unified Protestant voice. It was believed that changing
the individual in this way distinguished Protestantism from the “top-down” approaches
of both the Pope and the Soviet Premier. This institutionally-enabled religious
individual with an activist bent would counter the threats of Catholicism
and Communism by both instantiating and disseminating the “common
faith” credo of Herberg’s “American Way of Life”–a
credo evident, as we have seen, in both the biblical epics themselves and
in much of the discourse surrounding them.[91]
[35] These productive antinomies at the heart of the Herald’s
Protestant identity remained viable vis-à-vis the critique
and engagement of popular culture as long as the film industry itself retained
its unique monopolistic structure. Strategies that were promising in the
1940s could continue to work in the 1950s. The cooperation between the Herald and
Hollywood that was born in 1940 with the Warner Brothers film One Foot
in Heaven and that saw the company welcome the Herald’s
expertise in organizing clerics as consultants was a direct antecedent
to the invitation for the Herald readership to “tell Hollywood
what to do” in awarding a film “Picture of the Year.”[92] The consequences of two legal
decisions worked together during the 1950s, however, to unravel the compact
between the PMPC, the Herald and Hollywood. The Paramount decision
of 1948–an anti-trust action wherein the studios were forced to divest
their theatre chains–and the Supreme Court’s decision in 1952
in Bursytn v. Wilson–which effectively extended First Amendment
protection to motion pictures–combined to remove control of exhibition
from the studios and assured the studios that censorship was weakened dramatically.
In other words, complaints were now to be directed at local exhibitors–not
at a politically visible and vulnerable oligarchy of corporations–and
the power of censorship boards to regulate what was shown by threatening
costly edits of films in their jurisdiction soon devolved into the ability
to merely rate films.
[36] These two legal landmarks took on greater significance with respect
to the antinomies governing the Herald and the PMPC. First, if films
contained what religious organizations deemed to be objectionable content
neither Roman Catholics nor Protestants could coerce the studios into consultation
or compliance by suggesting that federal censorship was a likely outcome
if such films were released. Thus, the antagonism that arose between Catholics
and Protestants in asserting hegemony in relation to cultural production
became counterproductive and, as suggested above, some saw it as prudent
to work together. Secondly, the very terms of ecumenical and organizational
activity employed by Protestants themselves worked, ironically, to eventually
undermine what was unique to Protestantism.[93] The
interpretations of DeMille and Skouras with respect to how films could
function within the larger culture were the apogee of a modernist translation
of Protestantism into a vernacular civil religion so ably analyzed by Herberg,
Wuthnow, Marty and others. In turn, this civil religion comprised such
an anemic argument for sustaining uniquely Protestant organizations that
the aforementioned individualist ethos could attain a degree of independence
not seen before. Moreover, this individualism was only exacerbated by the
Protestant proclivity for schism. Why turn to PMPC reviews or Herald commentary
to adjudicate the viewing choices available to this newly emergent and
independent religious individual? By the mid-1960s the PMPC reviews were
likely considered to be irrelevant to many readers.
[37] In sum, the balanced antinomies that were internal to and sustained
efforts like the PMPC became skewed when the external industrial supports
for this particular formation of Protestantism made way for the new realities
of Hollywood film practice. Block booking, vertical integration of the
industry and other monopolistic practices had ensured that a Protestant
organization like the PMPC could be conceived and function as a counterweight.
The rise of independent producers and exhibitors, the dismissal of federal
censorship as a threatening restraint and other developments during the
period, however, destroyed any semblance of a compact between two (or three,
if Roman Catholic intervention is included) cultural presences. In such
a context the Herald’s admonition to “applaud the good
and condemn the bad” assumed only a rhetorical force and worked to
position Protestants as mere consumers.
Notes
* Greg Linnell has degrees from Redeemer
University College, the Institute for Christian Studies, Carleton University,
the University of Western Ontario and a certificate in film preservation
from The L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation. He was
employed in the Motion Picture Department at the George Eastman House International
Museum of Photography and Film and is the founding editorial assistant
for the Association of Moving Image Archivists’ biannual journal,
The Moving Image. He would like
to thank Christopher Simmons for suggesting sources in modern American
Protestant religious history, Karen Everson for her close reading and editorial
suggestions on an earlier version of this paper, the anonymous reviewers
of the Journal of Religion and Popular Culture and, finally, friends in
Madison (Wisconsin), Rochester (New York) and Woodstock (Ontario) who have
contributed so much to this work.
[1] The following account is culled from William Taubman, Khrushchev:
The Man and His Era (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2003),
429-433. Also see Stephen J. Whitfield, “The Road to Rapprochement:
Khrushchev’s 1959 Visit to America,” in The Other Fifties:
Interrogating Midcentury American Icons, ed. Joel Foreman, 307-332
(Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1997).
[2] A photograph of this
meeting can be found in David Halberstam’s The Fifties (New
York: Random House, 1993). It precedes page 421.
[3] Khrushchev’s speeches
were published in the USSR under the title Live in Peace and Friendship and
published in America as Khrushchev in America (New York: Crosscurrents
Press, 1960). The quotation is from page 134. No translator is credited.
[4] Arthur Krock, “In
the Nation: Mr. K. Raises the Grimmest of All Questions,” New
York Times, September 22, 1959. Also see “Movies Downgrade the
U.S. Again,” an unsigned report in the October 7, 1959 issue of The
Christian Century (hereafter cited as the Century).
[5] Murray Schumach, “Criticism
Mounts Over Film Themes: Hollywood Ministerial Unit Joins in Attack on
Movies’ Sex and Violence Stress,” New York Times, September
25, 1959; Bosley Crowther, “One Man’s Opinion: Agitation Stirred
Up on Morals in Films,” New York Times, September 27, 1959; “TV-Movie
Moral Laxity Stirs Protestant Ire: Special Report,” Christianity
Today, October 26, 1959.
[6] The demonstrably broader demographic
appeal of the Herald vis-à-vis a contemporary Christian voice
like the Century comprises one of the chief reasons for the analysis
of this monthly; this magazine, subtitled “The Leading Christian
Family Magazine,” perhaps yields positions most representative of
the Protestant laity during the 1950s. Its subscription base at the height
of its popularity was reported to be around 500,000 issues whereas the Century managed
between 35,000 and 40,000 subscribers. In addition to providing a
forum for Protestant establishment columnists like J.C. Penney and Norman
Vincent Peale, the Herald was also the centerpiece of a community
that supported foreign missions, a mission in New York’s Bowery,
and a summer camp for underprivileged children. In servicing a community
with varied needs, then, it is neither accidental nor inconsequential that
the Herald provided reviews of Hollywood films from the mid-1940s
through to the mid-1960s. Post-war social development and dislocation called
for a reliable, family-oriented consumer guide for American evangelicals;
assisting young suburban families with limited personal incomes to discriminate
among the diverse recreational choices available to them was a financially
advantageous strategy for the magazine. Indeed, in criticizing the commonplace
that the rise of television is the most salient explanation for the postwar
drop in the movie audience, film historian Douglas Gomery, on page 87 of Shared
Pleasures: A History of Movie Presentation in the United States (Madison:
The University of Wisconsin Press, 1992), has noted that
Americans had little new personal income to spend on movies. What they
had saved they chose to spend on housing and children, making up for what
they had missed during the Great Depression and the Second World War. Suburbanization
located more and more families away from the downtown location of the movie
palaces. It cost more (in terms of time and money) to travel to the picture
palace. Finally, the baby boom took away the time and interest of the very
demographic heart of the moviegoing audience.
Hollywood itself was not oblivious to the threat posed by the startling
postwar growth of interest in activities like bowling and camping–activities
particularly appealing for families. In other words, when there was enough
money to pay for a babysitter, downtown parking and the admission itself,
moviegoers wanted to ensure that what they were seeing was good entertainment.
The Herald, then, positioned itself both as a trustworthy source
for conscientious spectators and, as we shall see, an authoritative Protestant
voice both to and for the movie industry. See Stephen Board, “Moving
the World with Magazines: A Survey of Evangelical Periodicals,” in American
Evangelicals and the Mass Media, ed. Quentin J. Schultze (Grand Rapids,
Michigan: Zondervan Publishing House, 1990), 128, 136, and Michele Rosenthal, “TV:
Satan or Savior? Protestant Responses to Television in the 1950s” (Ann
Arbor, Michigan: UMI Dissertation Services, 2000), 40 for more on magazine
distribution figures. For more on postwar recreation and competing entertainments
see Ezra Bowen, ed. This Fabulous Century, Volume VI: 1950-1960 (New
York: Time-Life Books, 1970), 167, 172 and Douglas T. Miller and Marion
Nowak, The Fifties: The Way We Really Were (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Co.,
1977), 315.
[7] The textual sources referenced
for this study have predisposed the analysis that follows to take a certain
shape. Most apparent is that many conservative Protestant denominations
of the time officially prohibited movie-going (whatever the practice of
individual members of the denomination) and, consequently, the researcher
interested in this topic is led to consult non-denominational journals
like the Herald, the Century and Christianity Today.
Other journals, like The National Council Outlook, Religion in
Life, Theology Today, Christianity and Crisis and The
Christian Scholar, addressed to more specialized academic and professional
populations, featured longer articles written by noteworthy commentators
that complemented their reviews in the more widely read magazines (e.g.,
Malcolm Boyd wrote for both the Century and Theology Today).
All of these journals, though addressed to and read by different groups,
were not published under the auspices of a specific denomination and were
free, therefore, to raise and discuss what were deemed to be provocative
topics. These feature articles, reviews and letters to the editor are,
in turn, complemented by a few book-length studies that, in the research
still to be done, would certainly prove to be germane to and advance our
understanding of the issues addressed in this study. All of these sources
are significant, then, because they set parameters for the possible reactions
of Protestants in the 1950s; not representative in a statistical manner,
the analysis to follow nevertheless establishes some of the various types
of response that Protestants would have articulated at the time. For book-length
studies, see, e.g., Henry S. Noerdlinger’s Moses and Egypt: The
Documentation to the Motion Picture The Ten Commandments (Los
Angeles: University of Southern California Press, 1956) which is an apologetic
for and summation of the research required for the DeMille film whereas,
at the opposite end of the spectrum, Houghton College president Stephen
W. Paine’s The Christian and the Movies: A Vigorous and Candid
Discussion of a Controversial Subject (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans,
1957) and Robert L. Sumner’s Hollywood Cesspool: A Startling Survey
of Movieland Lives and Morals, Pictures and Results (Grand Rapids,
MI: Zondervan, 1955) are conservative polemics against Hollywood. Also,
for a content analysis that does graph its results see Paul C. Stevens, “The
Christian in the MGM Lion’s Den: A Content Analysis of Changing Evangelical
Attitudes Toward Motion Pictures in Christianity Today Film Reviews
from 1956 to 1985,” M.A. Thesis, Regent University, 1989.
[8] See, for example, the
remarks that open and close Kris Jozajtis’ “‘The Eyes
of All People Are Upon Us’: American Civil Religion and the Birth
of Hollywood,” in Representing Religion in World Cinema: Filmmaking,
Mythmaking, Culture Making, ed. S. Brent Plate (New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2003), 239-61 and, more specifically, the bibliographic information
in notes 1 and 2. As Jozajtis notes, the most useful summary of the dominant
interpretive analytical traditions can be found in Steve Nolan, “The
Books of the Films: Trends in Religious Film Analysis,” Literature
and Theology 12,1 (1988): 1-12.
[9] The exact beginnings of the PMPC remain unclear.
S. Franklin Mack, in “On the Movie Lot in Hollywood,” National
Council Outlook (March 1953), claims that the Protestant Film Commission
(PFC), created in 1946 and concerned with the production and distribution
of religious films, launched film reviewing in the form of the PMPC. In
Mack’s account, the PMPC remained part of the PFC until 1952. Two
months after Mack’s article appeared, an unsigned report in the May
1953 issue of the National Council Outlook–“Better Than
Censorship: A Report on the Protestant Motion Picture Council”–claimed
that the PMPC began in 1944 and makes no mention of a sponsoring Protestant
Film Commission. Finally, both a June 1953 editorial (18) and a January
1966 editor’s note (10) in the Herald posit that the PMPC
was founded in 1945 under the auspices of the Herald. For this essay
I have retained the chronology maintained by the Herald.
[10] Thirty denominations
comprised the NCC. including Methodist, Episcopal, Baptist, Lutheran, Disciples
of Christ, Reformed, Quaker, Moravian, Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox,
Congregational and Presbyterian churches. This list is derived from the National
Council Outlook masthead for October 1953.
[11] Mack, “On the
Movie Lot,” 11.
[12] At this point I have
no information on the post-Herald publishing history of the PMPC’s
reviews.
[13] The following information
is culled from two articles, the aforementioned “Better Than Censorship” and
Golda Bader’s “What the Protestant Motion Picture Council Does,” Herald (July
1956): 59. For a listing of the 11 other national organizations see the
1951 Annual Report of the Motion Picture Association of America, p. 23.
The PMPC had close ties with some of these other groups. The text accompanying
a photo in the July 1950 Herald of film director Cecil B. DeMille
meeting with three women after a screening of Samson and Delilah reveals
that one of the three, Jesse Bader, was a national chairperson for both
the PMPC and the Department of Visual Aids, United Council of Church Women.
[14] Examples of these
ratings can be found in almost any issue of the Herald. I have not
been able to locate an explicit justification in the pages of the Herald for
the introduction of the MY rating. For more on the increasing segmentation
of the film audience and the rise of films specifically marketed for teens
during the mid- to late-1950s see Peter Lev, Transforming The Screen,
1950-1959 (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2003), 214-15,
244-49.
[15] Reproductions of these
two different types of plaques can be found in the March 1951 and March
1952 issues of the Herald.
[16] For more on the Children’s
Film Library and the Film Estimate Board see the 1953 Annual Report of
the Motion Picture Association of America, pages 17-18. Also see Harry
C. Spencer, “The Christian and Censorship of Television, Radio and
Films,” Religion in Life 30,1 (Winter 1960-61): 29 and Lev, Transforming,
94.
[17] Daniel A. Poling, “Encouraging
the Good,” Herald (June 1953): 18. The Herald’s
policy extended to other manifestations of popular culture. See Daniel
A. Poling, “Which Way Television?” Herald (November
1952) and Joseph Blank, “There Are Good Comic Books Too!” Herald (August
1954).
[18] See Francis G. Couvares, “Hollywood, Main
Street, and the Church: Trying to Censor the Movies Before the Production
Code,” in Movie Censorship and American Culture, Francis
G. Couvares, ed. (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996), 129-68
for an excellent introduction to early Protestant interaction with Hollywood.
[19] This example is taken
from the Herald (October 1951), 102.
[20] Bader, “Protestant
Motion Picture Council,” 59.
[21] Poling, “Encouraging,” 18.
[22] Bader, “Protestant
Motion Picture Council,” 59.
[23] “Let’s Tell Hollywood What to Do!” Herald (January
1956), 70.
[24] For an example of
such a photograph, see the March 1953 issue of the Herald, p. 97,
where Poling awards Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer (MGM) for Quo Vadis. Occasionally,
the studios would place full-page advertisements for both “Picture
of the Month” and “Picture of the Year” in the Herald,
thanking readers for the awards. See, for example, the ad for MGM’s The
Magnificent Yankee in the March 1951 issue or Paramount’s The
Ten Commandments in the April 1958 issue.
[25] “Let’s Tell Hollywood What to Do!” Herald 70.
[26] See, for example, Ted Baehr’s “Movieguide” which
can be found at www.movieguide.org.
[27] “Better Than
Censorship,” 7.
[28] Richard Maltby, “The
Production Code and the Hays Office,” in Grand Design: Hollywood
as a Modern Business Enterprise, 1930-1939, ed. Tino Balio (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1993), 37-72.
[29] Bader, “Protestant
Motion Picture Council,” 59.
[30] “Better Than
Censorship,” 6.
[31] See also the letters to the editor in the December
1960 and February 1961 issues of the Herald.
[32] As one historian writes: “for
critics of movies the pictures themselves were only part of a troubling
exhibition milieu associated with cheap commercial entertainment: big crowds
of unsupervised children, darkened spaces, gaudy advertisements, the large
immigrant presence both in the audience and in the ticket office, and the
overall fact that movies inhabited the physical and psychic space of cheap
commercial urban entertainment” (Daniel Czitrom, “The Politics
of Performance: Theater Licensing and the Origins of Movie Censorship in
New York,” in Movie Censorship and American Culture, ed. Francis
G. Couvares [Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996], 27-28).
See also Ruth A. Inglis, “Self-Regulation in Operation,” in The
American Film Industry, rev. edn., Tino Balio, ed. (Madison: University
of Wisconsin Press, 1985), 386-388 and Maltby, “The Production Code,” 50
for more on the Advertising Code of 1930.
[33] Consult the following
issues of the Herald for letters to the editor that illustrate the
diversity of opinion: February 1952, October 1953, December 1960 and February
1961.
[34] Clarence W. Hall, “Gentlemen,
It’s Up To You!: An Open Letter to the Motion Picture Industry,” Herald (April
1950): 32.
[35] Hall, “Gentlemen,” 32. This indignation
is all too evident in Sumner’s Hollywood Cesspool.
[36] Arbuckle’s career
had been ruined by false allegations of rape and murder in 1921 (and had
been one of the causes for the establishment of the Hays Office) while
Minter’s career was cut short in 1922 by suspicions that she had
been involved with the murder of director William Desmond Taylor. Both
events generated a tremendous amount of negative press coverage and no
doubt contributed to the self-censorship that Hall hoped Hollywood would
once again begin to practice.
[37] Daniel Poling, “Hollywood’s
Falling Stars,” Herald (April 1950), 16.
[38] Hall, “Gentlemen,” 34.
[39] Hall, “Gentlemen,” 34.
[40] Hall, “Gentlemen,” 33.
[41] Hall, “Gentlemen,” 34-35.
In this respect, Hall resembled other reformers who sided with exhibitors,
hoping to break the hold of producers and distributors and thus giving
local exhibitors more control over what was to be shown. Eight months later,
the Herald published another article in which an exhibitor in Minnesota
also questioned the morality of the producers–this time with regard
to “drinking scenes.” See L.A. Kaercher, “Am I in the
Liquor Business?” Herald (December 1950). For more on the
alliance between reformers and exhibitors see Couvares, “Hollywood,” 139ff.
[42] Hall, “Gentlemen,” 35.
[43] At this point I have
no evidence as to whether or not studio personnel ever read or acknowledged
Hall’s letter.
[44] See the letters by
Mary Heffern and Geo Tuttle in the “Back Talk” section of the
July 1950 issue.
[45] See “Back Talk” Herald (July
1950).
[46] The following issues
of the Herald featured “The Faith of the Stars”: August,
September and December 1950; January, April, May, August, September and
December 1951; August and November 1952. Many of the featured stars may
have also participated in “The Hollywood Christian Group” that
Poling mentions in his editorial of December 1953.
[47] See C. A. Fox’s
letter to the editor in “Back Talk” Herald (February
1952).
[48] See, for example, Kay Marten, “The Holy
Side of Hollywood,” Herald (September 1960), which counters
portraits of Hollywood found in the more conservative critiques of the
period (e.g., the aforementioned polemics by Paine and Sumner).
[49] Daniel Poling, “Again The Miracle,” Herald (August
1952). For other contemporary documents regarding the issues brought into
play by the film see the articles by Alan Westin, William Clancy and the
United States Supreme Court in Gerald Mast, ed., The Movies in Our Midst:
Documents in the Cultural History of Film in America (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1982).
[50] Poling, “Again…” For
more on this controversy see Garth Jowett, “‘A Significant
Medium for the Communication of Ideas’: The Miracle Decision
and the Decline of Motion Picture Censorship, 1952-1968” in Movie
Censorship and American Culture, ed. Francis G. Couvares (Washington:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996), 258-76.
[51] See the May 1953 issue.
[52] See Kenneth L. Wilson, “Religious
Freedom has Taken a Beating in Chicago,” Herald (April 1957).
[53] There are few scholarly
monographs on the biblical epics and they are of limited utility for understanding
the questions of historical context. That is, largely eschewing economic
or institutional or production history, these studies “read” the
genre’s socio-cultural significance via theological and semiotic/Freudian
interpretative analyses. Two prominent examples can be found in Gerald
Forshey’s American Religious and Biblical Spectaculars (Westport,
CT: Praeger, 1992) and Bruce Babington and Peter William Evans, Biblical
Epics: Sacred Narrative in the Hollywood Cinema (Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 1993).
[54] For the first two
films see, respectively, the December 1953 and September 1954 issues of
the Herald. For the last three films see, respectively, the March
1952, March 1953 and March 1958 issues. A photograph of Herald editor
Poling, awarding a “Picture of the Year” plaque to an MGM vice-president
can be found on p. 97 of the March 1953 issue.
[55] For a one-column example
see the October 1951 ad for David and Bathsheba. All other ads discussed
were full-page.
[56] Herald (February
1952): 9.
[57] See, respectively,
the February 1952 and June 1957 issues of the Herald.
[58] Herald (October
1953): 7.
[59] “Christian
Herald Readers Choose The Picture of the Year!” Herald (March
1952).
[60] See, for example,
the reviews for David and Bathsheba (October 1951), The Robe (December
1953), Ben-Hur (January 1960) and The Story of Ruth (August
1960).
[61] Herald (July
1953): 63.
[62] Herald (March
1960): 84.
[63] See, respectively,
the January 1952 and December 1953 issues of the Herald.
[64] See, respectively, the October 1951 and June
1957 issues of the Herald. The second quote can be found in the
advertisement for The Ten Commandments.
[65] This excerpt is from
the Herald’s January 1957 review of the film.
[66] Kay Marten, “How
They Made The Ten Commandments,” Herald (April 1957).
Marten also interviewed DeMille’s chief researcher, Henry S. Noerdlinger,
for the article. Noerdlinger’s work was compiled in Moses and
Egypt: The Documentation to the Motion Picture The Ten Commandments,
a book just over 200 pages long and filled with pictures, diagrams and
multiple citations from the Old Testament as well as many ancient historical
texts. The Marten article is paired with a sympathetic exploration of the
problems unique to the biblical epic. See William S. Hockman, “It’s
Not Easy to Visualize the Bible,” Herald (April 1957). It
is the emphasis on historical research that predominates in contemporary
attempts at envisioning the biblical stories. See, for example, David Rooney, “‘Bible’ Series:
Epic Scope,” Variety (13-19 January 1997): 126.
[67] The January 1961 review
of Spartacus begins with the following: “Man’s desire
for freedom has been a moving force in history since its beginning …”
[68] See, for example,
a photograph of DeMille, actress Martha Scott (who appeared in The Ten
Commandments) and Herald editor Poling in the March 1957 issue.
[69] Roy L. Ruth, “Cecil
B. DeMille Testifes,” Herald (May 1952): 75-77. The films
discussed are The Ten Commandments (1923), The King of Kings (1927), The
Sign of the Cross (1932) and Samson and Delilah.
[70] Ruth, “DeMille,” 76.
[71] Cecil B. DeMille, “Why
I Made The Ten Commandments,” Herald (April 1957):
31-32.
[72] DeMille, “Why,” 32,
38. Also see DeMille’s introduction to Noerdlinger’s book where
he links research and ecumenism.
[73] For more on this particular
interpretation of DeMille and The Ten Commandments see Alan Nadel, “God’s
Law and the Wide Screen: The Ten Commandments as Cold War ‘Epic’,” PMLA
Journal 108,3 (May 1993): 415-30; Sumiko Higashi, “Antimodernism
as Historical Representation in a Consumer Culture: Cecil B. DeMille’s The
Ten Commandments, 1923, 1956, 1993,” in The Persistence of
History: Cinema, Television, and the Modern Event, ed. Vivian Sobchack
(New York and London: Routledge, 1996), 91-112; and, finally, Melanie J.
Wright, Moses in America: The Cultural Uses of Biblical Narrative (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2003), 89-127.
[74] Spyros P. Skouras, “Religion
and the Movies,” Herald (June 1952): 71.
[75] See p. 11 and the
1952 Annual Report of the MPAA where the author asserts the “incalculable” impact
of the industry in “fostering democratic attitudes throughout the
world.” For more on this issue see Thomas H. Guback, “Hollywood’s
International Market,” in The American Film Industry, rev.
edn., ed. Tino Balio, 463-86 and David N. Eldridge, “‘Dear
Owen’: The CIA, Luigi Luraschi and Hollywood, 1953,” Historical
Journal of Film, Radio and Television 20,2 (June 2000): 149-96.
[76] Paul M. Stevens, “We Are Exporting Un-Americanism,” Herald (February
1958), 18, 48. A few years earlier, Columbia’s From Here to Eternity had
raised similar dismay because it seemed “to indict our American way
of life as no other picture has ever done,” Reverend Leslie R. Poeschel, “Letter
to the Editor,” Herald (August 1954): 90. Also see “Mrs.
C. M.” in “Doctor Poling Answers Your Questions,” Herald (January
1954): 4. A little over a year and half later, Stevens’s complaints
would be echoed by some in both the religious and secular press with respect
to Khrushchev’s remarks on Can-Can.
[77] His example is MGM’s The
Prodigal: “Writers preparing the script, said the Times,
found the implied drama so rich that they spun eighty-two pages of screenplay,
three-fourths of the whole, from the few words of Luke 15:13 on how
the Prodigal ‘wasted his substance in riotous living,’” J.C.
Furnas, “Look What Hollywood’s Doing to Your Bible!” Herald (July
1955): 20. Another example can be found in the text accompanying a reproduction
of the advertisement for The Prodigal where Furnas writes: “Advertisements
of The Prodigal show how film producers exploit sex. Intent of
actual Parable of the Prodigal is to show God’s forgiveness, not ‘woman’s
beauty and man’s temptation’ [as the caption on the ad states].
This ‘come-on’ is used frequently’” (20).
[78] Furnas, “Bible,” 20.
[79] Furnas, “Bible,” 20.
[80] Arthur’s letter
and the Herald’s reply can be found on p. 80 of the September
1955 issue. At this point I have not been able to find any more information
on Arthur. Perhaps he was an integral part of DeMille’s production
company or merely a publicist for Paramount.
[81] See, respectively,
Ruth Dillon’s letter in the October 1955 issue (80) and Eleanore
Morey’s letter in the September 1955 issue (80).
[82] See, respectively,
the letters by Rev. Clarence Best and Rev. A. C. Sicher, both of which
can be found in the September 1955 issue of the Herald (80). For
more letters see the November 1955 issue.
[83] The unsigned article,
entitled “Which Paper Do You Read?” compared the promotional
material sent to exhibitors with that sent to religious instructors and
church groups for United Artists’ Solomon and Sheba. “To
the ‘religious market’ the film was represented as a kind of
Sunday-school audio-visual aid. To theater operators and booking channels,
it was represented as a lusty, undraped spectacle sure to titillate panting
multitudes into movie houses” (Herald [March 1960]: 16).
[84] The Christian Century might
also stand as a likely candidate for study. This weekly provided reviews
and ratings of new films in each issue and also published a number of feature
articles on the film industry and the cycle of biblical epics. Formal similarities
to the Herald were matched by the shared policies of not advocating
federal censorship, of analyzing the efficacy of the Production Code and
of encouraging Hollywood to produce a better product. There were, however,
differences that set the Century apart from the initiatives of the Herald.
Here should be mentioned the Century’s increasing hostility
towards Hollywood’s biblical epics and its corresponding promotion
of the European art cinema of the 1950s, its suspicion of spectacle and
its appreciation for cinematic portraits of an internalized, intimate religiosity.
Most significant is the way in which the Century critics dealt with
films that contained representations of sexuality and violence at odds
with the critical stance maintained by the PMPC and the Herald.
Less inclined to dismiss films deemed provocative by the PMPC, Century critics
Tom Driver and Malcolm Boyd found merit in discussing the “negative
witness” of such films vis-à-vis a biblical conception
of humanity’s fallen, sinful state. Such an appropriation of ostensibly
objectionable material for the illumination of Christian truth was called “Christian
interpretation.” In this way, films that might not reference an ancient
historical context (as did the epics) could nonetheless be recovered and
made to testify to contemporary forms of Christianity (e.g., the films
of Carl-Theodor Dreyer and Ingmar Bergman often drew this kind of analysis).
In sum, the Century’s writers on film seem to have addressed
a much smaller elite audience in that they promoted the European art cinema
of the period–a cinema that did not receive a great deal of acclamation
from either mainline Herald readers or more conservative polemicists. For
more on the roots of this type of “Christian interpretation” see
chapter three, “Secular Scripture: The ‘Beautiful Captive,’” in
David Lyle Jeffrey’s People of the Book: Christian Identity and
Literary Culture (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1996),
where he discusses the contributions of Jerome and Augustine. In relation
to the European art cinema, see the Century’s review of Ben-Hur,
in which the critic favours Dreyer’s Ordet because, unlike Ben-Hur,
it is “faithful to the paradox of faith” (Century [13
January 1960]: 52). John Harrell, in “Religious Films: Fact and Forecast,” goes
so far as to suggest that the films of Rossellini (as well as Bergman and
Dreyer) have worth because they manifest an “extraordinary depth
of understanding of man” (Century [6 April 1960]: 414). This
admission of the utility of Rossellini demonstrates just how different
the Century’s stance on film was from that practiced by the Herald (which
condemned the director’s relationship with Ingrid Bergman earlier
in the decade). The Century’s strategy appeared in other publications
as well. See Sidney Lanier, “Ingmar Bergman: Magician in the Cathedral,” Christianity
and Crisis (1959): 198-200 and Malcolm Boyd, “Theology and the
Movies,” Theology Today 14,3 (October 1957): 359-75, which
makes use of Federico Fellini’s La Strada and Vittorio De
Sica’s Umberto D. Finally, Linda-Marie Delloff’s “God
as Artist: Aesthetic Theory in The Christian Century 1908-1955,” (Ann
Arbor, MI: UMI Dissertation Services, 1997) provides a good analysis of
the Century’s predilection for high culture and, when reviewing
movies, their preference for the art cinema of the 1950s. For another useful
study that examines the Protestant establishment’s views on the mass
media and television in particular see Michele Rosenthal’s “TV:
Satan or Savior? Protestant Responses to Television in the 1950s,” (Ann
Arbor, MI: UMI Dissertation Services, 2000).
[85] In an otherwise excellent
analysis, Edward Berckman, writing in 1980 about the 1970s, makes the mistake
of assuming that the Herald had never reviewed anything but films
produced by religious organizations. Given that the Herald no longer
made use of the PMPC post-1966, this may be a true characterization of
the magazine in the 1970s. But Berckman’s argument rests on the assumption
that evangelical Protestant magazines only began to review Hollywood product
later in the 1970s, thus opening themselves up to the appreciation of secular
entertainment. In fact, regarding the Herald, the situation seems
to be opposite to that described by Berckman. From 1944-45 until 1966 the Herald’s
reviews centered exclusively on the Hollywood product and it was only in
1966 that the productions of religious organizations began to receive sustained
critical attention. Despite his helpful characterization of evangelical
attitudes, therefore, Berckman’s essay suffers from a historical
error that has significance for his larger argument. See Edward M. Berckman, “The
Changing Attitudes of Protestant Churches to Movies and Television” Encounter 41,3
(1980): 293-306.
[86] Board, “Magazines,” 129.
Also see Mark Silk, “The Rise of the ‘New Evangelicalism’:
Shock and Adjustment,” in Between the Times: The Travail of the
Protestant Establishment in America, 1900-1960, ed. William R. Hutchison,
292 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989).
[87] Martin Marty, Modern
American Religion, Volume I: Under God, Indivisible 1941-1960 (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1996), 131-39.
[88] Herberg wrote that “Protestantism
in America today presents the anomaly of a strong majority group with a
growing minority consciousness … What seems to be really disturbing
many American Protestants is the sudden realization that Protestantism
is no longer identical with America, that Protestantism has, in fact, become
merely one of three communions” (Will Herberg, Protestant-Catholic-Jew:
An Essay in American Religious Sociology [New York: Doubleday, 1955],
250, 251). Marty quotes from André Siegfried, a contemporary of
Herberg: “The depth of this reaction [to the proposed Vatican ambassador]
must not be misunderstood; it represented instinctive defense on the part
of a religious monopoly which has ceased to exist” (Marty, Religion,
200).
[89] Robert Wuthnow, The
Restructuring of American Religion: Society and Faith Since World War
II (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), 17, 20.
[90] Wuthnow, Restructuring,
49.
[91] See Herberg, Protestant-Catholic-Jew,
91ff for an inventory of the characteristics that comprise the “American
Way of Life.”
[92] For the dialogue between Warner Bros. and the Herald see
the “Just Between Ourselves” column in the February and March
1941 issues of the magazine.
[93] Marty’s three-volume
history, Modern American Religion, is the articulation of the ironist
tradition in American religious historiography on which I have relied.
