Suffering from the recent loss of my dear kitty, nowadays I frequently find myself opting for a lighter than usual entertainment fare. I guess, at the moment, my ability to absorb sorrow and turmoil is at its limit. This is not a good time for Lars von Trier. So, at midnight on Saturday I idly let my remote to surf me to a sterilized version of Bridget Jones's Diary on some random non-premium cable channel.
I must say that, when it comes to art, I strongly oppose any form of censorship. This Film Is Not Yet Rated disturbed the hell out of me. And I am offended by YouTube's barring the viewing of Marina Abramovic's art for users under a certain age. For me, this is an equivalent to preventing teenagers from entering the Met.
Someone like me couldn't possibly imagine that a benign movie like Bridget Jones's Diary would require alterations for a late-night showing on a "digital value" channel. Of course, there is some sparse cursing (which, by the way, sounds much milder with the British accent), but other than that…
Well, the false morality defenders found a way to shuck the most whimsical parts out of the movie, leaving only soppy husks. Let me give you a little taste. In the original, when Bridget quits her publishing job, she tells Cleaver, "If staying here means working within 30 yards of you, frankly, I'd rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein's ass." Snap! The neutered version offers, "washing Saddam Hussein's car" instead. And that "home movie" of 4-year-old Bridget and 8-year-old Mark at the end – it completely disappears.
The problem isn't only in the censorship as a principle. The whole point of Helen Fielding's character, the innovativeness of her novel (which gave rise to the whole slew of books, movies, and TV shows – from Sex and the City to Girls) is in these feisty details. So, when somebody butchers it like that – it's nothing less than a desecration of artistic prerogatives.
Moreover, Miramax and Working Title Films, the production companies that brought the novel to the silver screen, are famous for the edgy, breakthrough movies. The former, for example, is responsible for bringing Pulp Fiction into our lives. Go on IMdB and see the complete rosters of these companies' impressive achievements.
But here is how the money-making in movies works. The production companies facilitate the creation of the product and in this case Miramax was even responsible for the US theatrical release. But after the big-screen runs are over, most movies get pushed through other distribution channels, usually handled by home entertainment divisions of big studios, far removed from the creators and the ideas of artistic integrity. These companies cover DVD and Blu-ray releases as well as the television circulation. While the alteration of DVDs has been ruled by the courts in 2006 as an "illegitimate business" and a violation of federal copyright laws, the decision doesn't apply to television versions. Those can be mutilated.
The question is, whether the moviemakers, who sign contracts, which give distributors rights to rape their artistic creations any way they like, do it knowingly. Are they such whores that they would sacrifice their creative integrity and sell their children to bordellos of family-friendly television for an extra buck?
Well, call me a hopeless idealist, but I don't believe that all of them are. At least some of them do care. (Hey, counting money is my profession, but I know that there are more important things in life than raking the dough.) But what I can absolutely guarantee is that 99.99% of them don't have any understanding of business and legal matters. They rely on their agents, managers, and attorneys to defend their interests. Well, that's just silly.
At the end of the day, the only people who have an incentive to protect the art are the artists themselves. The elementary business education and rudimentary understanding of how their industry works would do them tons of good. At the very least they should be able to ask the right questions and request the correct clauses to be included into the contracts before they ink their famous names on the signature lines.
The Frustrated CFO 