Monday 16 January 2012

1910 - Movies and Censorship


1910 – Movies
        In the fall of 1910, the Hamilton Spectator launched a crusade against the type of moving pictures that were being shown in local theatres. In the days before censorship mechanisms were established, the laws covering the type of moving pictures shown in Ontario were vague and open to a wide variety of interpretations.
          On August 31, 1910, the Spectator ran an article under the headline, “Pictures That Foster Crime : Hold Officers of the Law Up to Ridicule,” in which the reporter described a film which he felt encouraged disrespect for the law.
          In the film, a police constable was savagely attacked by a burglar who had broken into a store to steal food. The reporter felt that it was no mere coincidence that a crime of exactly the same nature had been committed in Hamilton while that particular picture was being shown.
          In 1910, there were no restrictions regarding the admittance of children to moving picture theatres. The reporter described in detail one film which he considered unfit for children to see.
          In that film, a beautiful young woman, described as a “poorly dressed artist’s model” threw herself off a bridge because of unrequited love:
          “Special pains were taken by the filmmakers to give the audience a near view of the unfortunate girl as she sank for the third time. Later, the body of the girl was seen lying in the morgue just as it had been removed from the water. She lay on her back, her wet hair suspended. As she thus lay, the faithless lover, who had been the cause of the tragedy, entered, and in apparent grief, fell on the swollen, lifeless form. Those who saw the sight shuddered in horror.”
          As the days passed, the Spectator’s campaign against what they called “the mental filth and rot” of moving pictures intensified. In particular, a poster advertising a  film was condemned. The poster depicted a “semi-nude colored woman.”
          After a complaint to the manager of the theatre involved, a promise was made to do something about the poster. The “something” consisted of pasting a piece of paper, two inches square, over the objectionable part of the poster. Noting that the poster was located “only a stone’s throw from the police station,” the reporter pointed out that “probably it did not occur to the police that this woman was alive inside the theatre and could be seen exactly as depicted on the poster for the sum of five cents.”
          In another film, the moral degradation of the leading character was a source of concern to the Spectator. The film portrayed the story of the downfall of a woman named Ruth, tracing her movements from the family home to “one of the dirtiest and most disreputable houses one can imagine.” In one scene, Ruth is shown “reclining on a couch, and the actions of the man in the picture are most repulsive.”
          The Spectator, in demanding action against such films, noted that the “remarkable suggestiveness of the moving picture may be related to the fact that fixing the attention on some slightly moving or quivering bright object induces a hypnotic state in which suggestion is remarkably easy.”
          The claim was made that the powerful effect of moving pictures not only caused crime by imitation of what was portrayed on the screen, but even, the Spectator declared, “persons who have witnessed the portrayal of suicide have gone home and taken their lives.”
          In an editorial calling for police action against the showing of morally degrading films in Hamilton, the Spectator emphasized that it had no quarrel with the management of local moving picture theatres. Recognizing the potential value of moving pictures for both entertainment and education, the Spectator said that it was only calling for the police to enforce the already existing laws against “the undesirable film. The law, by the way, says that no picture depicting crime or violence shall be exhibited. Also, it is required that the police department shall see that the law in this as in other matters shall be enforced. Which makes one wonder why it should be necessary for anyone to have to wage battle to induce the police to do no more than is their plain duty.”
          Eventually, a police investigation was launched. Police Chief Smith sent Constable Thomas Brown to gather information about the type of films being shown in Hamilton.
          Finally, on October 21, 1910, charges of breaching moving picture regulations were laid against five theatre managers, namely W. J. Melody of the Colonial Theatre, Herbert Clayton of the Crystal Palace Theatre, John R. Cambden of the Gayety Theatre, V. King of the Savoy Theatre and John Stewart of the Unique Theatre.
          The first case to be heard in police court was against the Crystal Palace Theatre. Magistrate Jelfs declared at the outset that it was his opinion that the police would have to prove a crime was actually depicted on the screen, not merely a representation of a crime.
          The film in question was a western in which Constable Brown saw a cowboy being pursued by other cowboys, followed by a shoot out which left one man dead. Also shown at the Crystal Palace Theatre that day was another reel depicting a house burglary.
        Herbert Clayton, manager of the Crystal Palace Theatre, pleaded not guilty to the charge and was defended by George S. Kerr, K. C.
          During his cross-examination of Constable Brown, Kerr asked him the following :
           “You don’t know whether the wild west men were properly chasing the outlaw? They might have been a mounted posse. The other film wound up with a very fine moral, did it not?”
          After the constable replied in the affirmative, Mr. Kerr went on to claim that “the moral was a touching one. It almost brought tears to your eyes.”
          Mr. Kerr argued that the depiction of crime in moving pictures had no more adverse effect than the depiction of crime in written literature:
          “Look at all the Nick Carters and cheap novels people read. They can read of crime in the newspaper every night.”
          Magistrate Jelfs said that he felt that the law against moving pictures related only to the depiction of actual crimes:
          “If they produced pictures of the Kinrade murder, say, or the murder at Goderich, I should think such pictures would come under the act.”
          Lawyer Kerr also argued that the act went too far and could stifle the picture house business.
          Magistrate Jelfs declared that he was unable to render a decision in the case and reserved judgment for a week, although he added, “in my opinion, we will have to have some representation of actual crime before there is an offense.”
          The cases against the other theatre managers were postponed until the case against the Crystal Palace Theatre was decided.
          The Hamilton Times was dissatisfied with the outcome of the case against the Crystal Palace Theatre, arguing that the point of the case was to fight the showing of “immoral and degrading shows.” The case, the Times argued, had instead become immersed in a legalistic battle over an act which was clearly inadequate:
          “In all conscience, the Government owes it to the picture men, owes it to justice, to enable them o obey the law, by itself furnishing a criterion for their guide.’
          In the absence of guidelines for the censorship of moving pictures, Magistrate Jelfs eventually ruled that the cases against the moving picture theatre managers could not proceed.
          For the moment, the campaign against the showing of questionable moving pictures put on hold.
         

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