..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington

Jack be Nimble

I think this is a column about diplomacy and the relationship between the commerce and politics of the film industry. However, getting there may be a complex and circuitous route, so exact patience when reading.

Some 15 years ago the phenomena known as the Power List was a relative novelty. I’m not certain what publication first came up with an annual list of the 100 most “powerful” people in Hollywood but my guess would be that Premiere got the ball rolling. At the time, I was a contributor to Entertainment Weekly and one of the editors sent me its initial list for perusal and commentary. Now, on principal, I loathe such exercises - they are about selling magazines and drumming up publicity - but agreed to minimally provide feedback in so far as what I considered egregious inclusions or omissions.  

There were likely a handful of people I cited as lightweights and a couple of people that I felt should be on the publication’s first list. However, there was only one name that screamed out as a serious contender among the pantheon of single-digit luminaries and he was nowhere to be found among the 100 or the smattering of runners up. I explained that in the course of two decades he was probably singularly responsible for bringing in more money to the American film industry than possibly anyone in history. That man is Jack Valenti, president of the Motion Picture Association of America.

The initial response to the suggestion was surprise. Outside the inner circles of the industry, Valenti was viewed as a somewhat comic figure that doled out the foreign-language Oscar at the Academy Awards and defended the MPAA’s rating system whenever it came under attack as a philistine censor of art. It had never occurred to the entertainment editors that this diminutive Texan who peppered his speeches with references to the Greeks and corny jokes was at the helm of negotiating favorable trade and tariff laws, working with international law agencies to curb piracy or pulling out the heavy artillery to quell the forces pushing for quotas for its national cinema or the incoming product from the U.S.

Given that new perspective, Valenti’s name was put up for consideration and quickly tossed out because he wasn’t deemed sufficiently sexy. In fact, to the best of my knowledge he’s never appeared on any mainstream power list and likely prefers that the general public view him as avuncular and unthreatening octogenarian.

Jack Valenti may transmit a warm and fuzzy vibe to those that know him only in a social situation. He is good company, personable, attentive, funny and gracious. However, as the spokesman for the most powerful members of the American motion picture industry, he has the odd balancing act of doing its bidding as well as explaining the potential political fallout should they exert too much muscle to get what they want. There is no question that he has been incredibly effective. Otherwise, how does one explain an uninterrupted tenure since 1966 that has survived seven Washington administrations and a 100% house cleaning in Tinsel Town.

It’s difficult to equate Valenti to any single figure in the world of politics or film, living or dead. Teddy Roosevelt comes to mind for his “walk softly and carry a big stick” advisory but despite his title of president, Cactus Jack is better viewed as an Ambassador without portfolio or the eminence gris of the court of Hollywood. There’s a story he tells of going to Yugoslavia to cement a trade agreement with Tito. A U.S. foreign service rep advised him that setting up such a meeting would take months and likely ultimately involve a low ranking staff functionary. Valenti had neither the time nor patience for going through official channels and instead had his secretary contact Tito’s office and explain that he would be arriving Thursday with Kirk Douglas and would like to meet with him before departing the following day. Exactly who was bumped from the schedule has been lost in the paperwork of regime change.

The tales Valenti won’t tell out of school don’t have a humorous punchline. Back in the late 1970s, a group of struggling filmmakers in Venezuela successfully lobbied government representatives and a bill was passed that national cinemas had to play locally produced short subjects for 10 weeks in a calendar year. While designed to bolster talent and experience for a small, indigenous industry, the initiative would have no outward impact on the number of American movies being exported to the South American nation. However, there was a principle the MPAA felt compelled to uphold - an absolute abhorrence of quotas of any stripe. In retaliation, member companies withheld current movies from Venezuelan movie theaters and the ensuing public uproar saw quotas and support for productions of short subjects evaporate within six months.

The incident underlines that the MPAA will resort to hardball tactics, but rarely has to because in this particular arena it indeed carries the big stick. In fact, the current party line is that healthy national film industries are the best thing for American movies internationally. Local and American product encourage the moviegoing habit and all others have to fight tooth and nail to be seen on a country by country basis. The MPAA even sponsors or supports a number of international workshops that teach European and Asian filmmakers the American movie method. It is the equivalent of the cinematic Peace Corps.  

I may have told this anecdote recently but it bears repeating. At a seminar focusing on international co-production back in the 1980s, then chairman of Svenskfilm Jorn Donner observed that in his country, on average, 80% of its screens play American movies. He went on to note that in any given year, 80% of the best films by any yardstick were not American and concluded dryly that “an inequity” existed.

There’s a long history of wars, diplomacy and chicanery that have contributed to the manifest destiny of movies made in the USA. The classic studios known as the “Seven Sisters” have morphed into seven companies that are increasingly at odds with one another but somehow manage to agree on bread and butter issues. But do not assume that establishing a unified front requires any less discipline, nerve or foolhardiness than lion taming.

The buzz of the last several weeks is that MPAA president for life Jack Valenti and reps of the majors are planning his exit strategy and sending out feelers to possible successors. Since the formation of the trade organization, it has had but three chairmen - all Washington insiders. It has no provision for transitioning and when I queried one studio chieftan about it a decade ago, he harrumphed something about it being discussed and tabled for later consideration.

At one time or another, the organization has hired senior execs with all the trappings of taking over the presidential reins. However, being the equivalent of Prince Charles ill suited their ambitions and they left for other posts. No one can quite imagine the industry fronted by anyone other than Valenti.

In point of fact, there isn’t an alternative sector of the industry from the Independent Feature Project to the American Film Marketing Association that wouldn’t kill for its own Jack Valenti. It’s inarguable that such a person would be invaluable to either group, especially if he/she could establish an on-going liaison or dialogue with the majors. But though many candidates have been scrutinized, none has come close to making the grade and neither group has the sort of war chest to pay a lobbyist with even a half of Valenti’s stature or contacts.

When AFMA and the IFP - responding to member frustration about Rating Administration tags - flirted with establishing a review and ratings board, the MPAA responded with the sop of a permanent seat for someone from the independent sector on its appeals panel. While ratings for indie features arguably continue to be victims of a double standard, the appearance of consideration has been enough to placate those concerns. But that’s small potatoes to more vital concerns that plague those organizations.

The American Film Market group, whose membership roster includes a spectrum encompassing everyone from Miramax (an MPAA member by dint of its Disney parents) to Troma, has once again taken off the gloves and gone into the ring with MIFED, the fall film market that takes place in Milan. A coalition primarily composed of U.S. and British companies has opted to move its current March dates to November in 2004. It will unspool from Nov. 3 – 10 while MIFED is scheduled for Oct. 21 – Nov. 4.

Those spearheading the attack maintain that current conditions make it financially unviable to maintain three major markets (Cannes in May being the third and unassailable because of its competitive film festival). While that conclusion has veracity, the method being employed to reduce the ranks is, shall we say, indelicate. In fact, it’s the second time that AFMA has decided to go head-to-head with MIFED with the clear intent of putting a spike through its heart. The plan failed a decade ago and it proved enormously costly to maintain two annual outings for AFMA members. The pluses and minuses of each market essentially split up buyers and sellers and neither event during that period ran at capacity. The AFM grudgingly moved back to March but the animosity between the groups never went away.

It’s difficult to imagine how someone of Valenti’s stature could negotiate a peace given that the aim is to eliminate MIFED with extreme prejudice. The most common complaint lodged at the folks in Milan is lackadaisical organization and inferior physical resources. Conversely, the AFM comes under fire as being too expensive for smaller companies. To bolster its position this time around, the American market has decided to tie into the American Film Institute film festival but with the market located in Santa Monica and the fest headquartered across town in Hollywood, it’s unclear how the association will operate.

In any event, a state of war has been declared with MIFED taking the high ground by simply limiting its response to a statement that it will be business as usual now and in 2004. It has a number of trump cards, including substantial support from the Italian government, to bring in buyers and sellers and one imagines it will finally address and remedy past complaints now that its existence is being put into jeopardy. In the past it’s also prevailed over competition from the London screenings and will no doubt have a media supporter in Variety, which like the market, falls under the umbrella of the Reed Business Group.

Ultimately, the fate of MIFED and the AFM will turn on whether the outcome is to benefit the community of buyers and sellers by establishing two annual markets separated by six months or simply to be the organization that prevails. There is one way out that’s unconventional but likely unacceptable to one or both parties. That would be to alternate the venue of the fall market with Santa Monica hosting the even years and Milan the odd ones … or vice versa if you insist.

- by Leonard Klady