By Jim Seymour
For Variety

Anyone who has wondered how and why the motion picture ratings system evolved, as well as the rationalization for the continuation of this allegedly biased process, must visit the 2006 documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated. Underneath its amusing narrative—interspersed with selections from various films that have struggled with the Motion Picture Association of America over final ratings—lies the very disturbing suggestion that American culture, which prides itself on equity and fairness, is, in fact, under the scrutiny (and whims) of a small number of individuals resembling the CIA. As recent revelations regarding the secrecy employed by our government in its conduct of the Iraq war remind us, our democracy is only as strong as its willingness to be reasonably transparent.
Director Kirby Dick has assembled an eloquent group of independent film directors and actors including, among others, Maria Bello, Atom Egoyan, Matt Stone, Kevin Smith, and John Waters who are dismayed over the ratings committee’s lack of accountability. Members of the MPAA ratings board have always been anonymous, to protect them from “outside pressure.” Determined to rectify what these artists consider the only cultural organization in the country to conduct its business so secretly, Dick decides to hire private investigators to reveal the identity of the censors. The results of this humorously executed investigation are both entertaining and disturbing.
The film begins with a useful review of the history of the MPAA, beginning with its creation in the 1920s when, in collusion with the leading film companies of the day, Congress authorized politician Will Hayes to censor all film releases. While the Hayes Code was abandoned in 1967, Jack Valenti, who headed the MPAA for the next 30 years, continued to serve what remains today a monopoly of extremely powerful media companies that control over 90 percent of the content Americans view. But does the MPAA truly represent the sensitivity of the viewing public? Not according to this film.
For starters, while Valenti claims that he wants the board to represent the “average” American parent, Dick reveals that, in fact, children of the current board are almost all in their 20s and 30s. But the most alarming conclusions of the film (which contradict Valenti’s claim that violence is the main target of the committee) constitute a strong indictment against an organization that seems to celebrate violence. Nearly all violent films receive an R-rating, not an NC-17, while censoring nearly any kind of sexual content thought to be “abnormal” or “deviant” by this small, select group remains the norm. There appears to be no allowance for the healthy pleasure of sex, especially when it comes to the pleasure of women or gays. In other words, while public policy has come to recognize the rights of women and homosexuals, these groups are both unrepresented—and, in fact, ignored—by these cultural censors, leading, of course, to the dominance of a code that favors the heterosexual male.
Interestingly, one film critic reminds us that the liberties of film directors were much better protected in the 1970s than they are now. As evidence, one need only consider the extended scene in Hal Ashby’s Coming Home, in which Jon Voight makes oral love to Jane Fonda, itself, a beautiful testament to the healing power of sex. No such scene would survive the scrutiny of the MPAA today.
What could possibly be the importance of such a documentary, you might ask? Well, especially at a time when this country is at war, we must continually remind ourselves of the true meaning of American liberty, of the idiocy attached to flooding the American consciousness with violent acts made palatable by their harmless consequences, and of the ever-increasing corporate power to determine our cultural way of life.