Film Societies at Harvard or 'Deep Throat' as Education

WHEN THERE ARE 15 film societies on campus, there's bound to be trouble. And that figure only includes private student groups devoted exclusively to film. When you add in departments, such as Western European Studies, with regular series, student groups such as the Chinese Student Association for whom film series are one of several activities, the student film series at the Carpenter Center, courses and sections devoted to or utilizing film, the films available in the immediate community from the Harvard-Epworth Church and especially the Brattle Square, Harvard Square, and Orson Welles theaters--and the ramifications lead to madness.

Out of chaos last Spring was born the Harvard Films Studies Council. And after a year of negotiation, the Council has begotten the Film Wall.

The Film Wall stands in the basement of Boylston Hall. Enshrined there upon on three-by-five notecards, are the names and schedules of the 15 film societies and three other Harvard organizations which have film series.

Students have been using the Film Wall to shop for weekend film fare. "There's really a need to have the exact times posted" says Martha Miller, who, as coordinator of the Council, takes charge of the wall.

"Periodically I wake up in the middle of the night wondering if I've posted something backwards."

But the primary purpose of the Film Wall and through it the Council is coordination. The Film Council is not at peak operating strength this week; several societies have discontined their films for the remainder of the season. But even with say, 12 societies active on a given week--each interested in showing some of the same old standbys--centralized communication becomes important.

In this respect, the Council has been successful solving one schedule conflict (Eliot vs. Winthrop over Lord Jim) and averting a few others.

Other of the Council's original goals remain, however, unrealized. Plans for a newsletter and common advertising remain just plans, and longer range centralization is relegated to the distant future. Miller says, however, that she is satisfied with the Council's performance. "Coordination has taken out the tension that too much competition builds," she adds.

One goal of the Council was at its inception last Spring to smooth the feathers of local professional theaters, ruffled by the more agressive tactics of some film socieities earlier last year.

Most film society members say they feel it is to their advantage to cooperate with the professional theaters because of the theaters' potential power to withhold films from the societies. Cyrus I. Harvey '47, owner of the Harvard Square, Brattle Square, and Central Cinemas is in a good position to wield this power. Harvey is one of the founding partners of Janus films, a major distributor of foreign films to both professional and non-professional groups. Janus often checks with Harvey's manager, Robert St. George, to okay a film before sending it to a Harvard society.

"He [Harvey] has a good enough relationship with the distributor to have them blackball us from showing any films," says Mark S. Campisano '75, publicity chairman for Winthrop House Films.

Many film society members feel there is also the legal reprisals. When regulations laid down by the distributor, the University's rules, and laws relating to public gatherings are taken into consideration, "there's no way to make money," says Campisano.

The primary source book for University rules relating to film societies is a small green pamphlet entitled "Regulations for Undergraduate Organizations in Harvard and Radcliffe Colleges." In a community where regulations proliferate, violations of the little green pamphlet seem to cause little anxiety to the older hands, except where it cites city ordinances such as those requiring the presence of a policeman. More vunerable, however, is the nearly universal practice of renting a film for a single showing and using it throughout the weekend.

Larry Miller '73, former director of the Quincy Cinema Guild, maintains that the distributors are aware of the violations, but don't care. "Dan Kelley of Swank [another distributor] knows everybody does it," he says.

Thomas Von Foerster, formerly adviser to Kirkland Films, claims that similar gambits are common in professional houses, as well. "It's one of these businesses where the rules are such that you can't survive without cheating a bit. And several Houses whose film societies tried to be honest no longer have film societies."

Many film society members still fear, however, that because of the violations, theater owners have ample ammunition for attacking the societies should they desire to do so.

Complaints from the professional theater operators last year centered on the activities of Quincy Cinema Guild, Films Across the River, and the Graduate Student Association Series. This year's relative calm is due less to the Council's actions than to the less aggressive tactics of the individual film societies' chairmen. "We didn't have any problems this year," says Charles Wooley, president of Quincy Cinema Guild, "because I checked the schedule with the theater managers personally."

The establishment of ground rules has also helped to ease strains. The major objection of the commercial theaters has been outside advertising, since terms of agreements with distributors generally limit attendance to University audiences. "The big issue to me," says Larry Jackson, director of the Orson Welles, "is that it is the film society's purpose to present good films to its own community--Harvard students, faculty, employees, and their guests."

Outside advertising is specifically prohibited in this year's set of regulations. Quincy House's marquee, which sparkled over Mt. Auburn Street on the night of film showings last year, is dark this year; and there are, with few exceptions, no more listings of films in the underground newspapers.

The second issue of last year's dispute was scheduling conflicts, notably, Quincy's scheduling of Yellow Submarine and the Business School's scheduling of two other films at approximately the time of showings at the Orson Welles. Ex-chairman Miller maintains the schedule had been made in advance and the conflict was accidental. But according to Jackson, "it had come to the point where coincidence became aggressive and led us to believe that certain film societies were looking for the block-busters on our schedules and showing them the day before or after."

But the question that is most difficult to resolve is what sort of films a film society ought to show.

"House societies should be more adventurous," St. George says. "We're limited in what we can show--we're also a business. The Houses should not be limited by commercial considerations if they're seriously interested in film, and less in providing a dating crowd outlet."

According to the Council agreement, societies show films "primarily of an educational or experimental nature" and at least two years old. But the general consensus among film society members is that the limitations are a dead letter. GSD films plans to show "Slaughterhouse-Five" next year (which complies with the two-year guide "Cabaret," (which will not). And the educational" criterion is even less of a hindrance. GSD, for example, showed "Little Big Man," "Putney Swope" and "The Pawn-broker" under the general educational theme. "Social adaptation to a changing environment."

The film societies agree to a man that a film society can not remain financially solvent without a few "block-busters." Financial arrangements vary. In some Houses the House Committee funds the society's initial investment; in others, the money may come from the Master's funds--but the House that will tolerate continued deficits is a rarity, and film societies without House backing are under even tighter constraint. GSD Films' arrangement with the School of Design requires it to be in the black at the end of each month, or shut down. At the end of the year, any profits must go into the school's scholarship fund.

THE REGULATIONS for undergraduates prohibit showing commercial films for profit; they say nothing about using commercial films to recoup losses or allow financing of other projects. Proceeds from Eliot films have gone into financing a Hitchcock-style film by W. Donald Brown '74, head of the House's society. Profits in other Houses often go into new film equipment or towards payment for the current equipment. (Among film societies the veritable mark of status is ownership of two projectors, allowing continuous showings.)

Most of the profits from any one film, however, go into financing the "duds." Kirkland's box office successes this year will balance off the financial disasters of last year's East European series. Mankiewicz netted $400 on "The Graduate," just about enough to break even on their previous showings--which had reached a nadir the week before with a showing of "The Fly" to a grand total of three customers.

Some societies, especially the Graduate Schools' organizations, espouse no cause other than entertainment. A few societies are yet another outlet for House Committee members' organizational drives-- "a communal activity" as a Winthrop House member put it. But Martha Miller is skeptical of the notion. "How much House camaraderie is there watching a movie?" she asks.

Still, most societies contain more-or-less serious film buffs paying at least lip service to the notion of "quality" films. The near-universal explanation of the encroachment of commercialism is exemplified by Quincy Cinema's dilemma. "It sort of galls me to be showing spaghetti westerns," says Wooley. "It's not good cinema; you can see them anywhere. But otherwise we'd lose our shirts."

"There are the film societies that show good films and lose money, and there are those that show bad films and make money," Winthrop's Campisano said, adding ruefully, "and those that show bad films and lose money."

The problems multiply as an ever-increasing number of film societies confront an ever-diminishing market for serious films. University audiences seem to prefer the familiar to the arcane. Attendance at comedies of the 30's and 40's have benefited from the latest wave of nostalgia, along with monster pictures and cartoons. In general, though, the interest in older films has been diminishing.

Film societies' problems are compounded by the lack of the captive audience available to societies at more secluded schools. In competition with the Cambridge and Boston theaters, with television and with each other, the societies have felt themselves pressed into showing more and more commercial output.

"The House societies are showing older films now, but not what they should," St. George says. "Another viewing of Bonnie and Clyde is not what is needed. Ideally, they should be showing 16 mm classics. I think they would do as well if not better than Bonnie and Clyde."

But most society members seem to disagree. And the guest for the audience drives the societies into a variant of Gresham's Law: Bad films drive out good. Among the most successful of the Films Across the River series last year was "Vixen"; Winthrop Films will offer "99 Women" this spring; and GSD Films is lustfully eyeing "Deep Throat" for next year.

A stated objective of the Council is the lessening of cutthroat competition among the societies and the provision of a minimum amount of security for each. At full strength, the societies flood the market; still, no one is willing to put a halt to freedom of entry. "We can't limit the market" Epps said. "It would be unfair to those interested in organizing a society. We'd rather not regulate too closely."

Reduction of the number of societies is hardly likely. "You can't go up to some group and say 'For the good of the rest of the film societies would you go out of business?' They'd toss you out the door," says Donna J. Yee '73, a member of the Council's executive board and Currier House Film Society. But if the number of societies cannot be reduced, financial pressures may force member of the council into present and ever narrowing range of films. And if its member societies hope to continue to develop, it will be up to the Council to find the means to counteract this pressure.

The primary source book for University rules relating to film societies is a small green pamphlet entitled "Regulations for Undergraduate Organizations in Harvard and Radcliffe Colleges." In a community where regulations proliferate, violations of the little green pamphlet seem to cause little anxiety to the older hands, except where it cites city ordinances such as those requiring the presence of a policeman. More vunerable, however, is the nearly universal practice of renting a film for a single showing and using it throughout the weekend.

Larry Miller '73, former director of the Quincy Cinema Guild, maintains that the distributors are aware of the violations, but don't care. "Dan Kelley of Swank [another distributor] knows everybody does it," he says.

Thomas Von Foerster, formerly adviser to Kirkland Films, claims that similar gambits are common in professional houses, as well. "It's one of these businesses where the rules are such that you can't survive without cheating a bit. And several Houses whose film societies tried to be honest no longer have film societies."

Many film society members still fear, however, that because of the violations, theater owners have ample ammunition for attacking the societies should they desire to do so.

Complaints from the professional theater operators last year centered on the activities of Quincy Cinema Guild, Films Across the River, and the Graduate Student Association Series. This year's relative calm is due less to the Council's actions than to the less aggressive tactics of the individual film societies' chairmen. "We didn't have any problems this year," says Charles Wooley, president of Quincy Cinema Guild, "because I checked the schedule with the theater managers personally."

The establishment of ground rules has also helped to ease strains. The major objection of the commercial theaters has been outside advertising, since terms of agreements with distributors generally limit attendance to University audiences. "The big issue to me," says Larry Jackson, director of the Orson Welles, "is that it is the film society's purpose to present good films to its own community--Harvard students, faculty, employees, and their guests."

Outside advertising is specifically prohibited in this year's set of regulations. Quincy House's marquee, which sparkled over Mt. Auburn Street on the night of film showings last year, is dark this year; and there are, with few exceptions, no more listings of films in the underground newspapers.

The second issue of last year's dispute was scheduling conflicts, notably, Quincy's scheduling of Yellow Submarine and the Business School's scheduling of two other films at approximately the time of showings at the Orson Welles. Ex-chairman Miller maintains the schedule had been made in advance and the conflict was accidental. But according to Jackson, "it had come to the point where coincidence became aggressive and led us to believe that certain film societies were looking for the block-busters on our schedules and showing them the day before or after."

But the question that is most difficult to resolve is what sort of films a film society ought to show.

"House societies should be more adventurous," St. George says. "We're limited in what we can show--we're also a business. The Houses should not be limited by commercial considerations if they're seriously interested in film, and less in providing a dating crowd outlet."

According to the Council agreement, societies show films "primarily of an educational or experimental nature" and at least two years old. But the general consensus among film society members is that the limitations are a dead letter. GSD films plans to show "Slaughterhouse-Five" next year (which complies with the two-year guide "Cabaret," (which will not). And the educational" criterion is even less of a hindrance. GSD, for example, showed "Little Big Man," "Putney Swope" and "The Pawn-broker" under the general educational theme. "Social adaptation to a changing environment."

The film societies agree to a man that a film society can not remain financially solvent without a few "block-busters." Financial arrangements vary. In some Houses the House Committee funds the society's initial investment; in others, the money may come from the Master's funds--but the House that will tolerate continued deficits is a rarity, and film societies without House backing are under even tighter constraint. GSD Films' arrangement with the School of Design requires it to be in the black at the end of each month, or shut down. At the end of the year, any profits must go into the school's scholarship fund.

THE REGULATIONS for undergraduates prohibit showing commercial films for profit; they say nothing about using commercial films to recoup losses or allow financing of other projects. Proceeds from Eliot films have gone into financing a Hitchcock-style film by W. Donald Brown '74, head of the House's society. Profits in other Houses often go into new film equipment or towards payment for the current equipment. (Among film societies the veritable mark of status is ownership of two projectors, allowing continuous showings.)

Most of the profits from any one film, however, go into financing the "duds." Kirkland's box office successes this year will balance off the financial disasters of last year's East European series. Mankiewicz netted $400 on "The Graduate," just about enough to break even on their previous showings--which had reached a nadir the week before with a showing of "The Fly" to a grand total of three customers.

Some societies, especially the Graduate Schools' organizations, espouse no cause other than entertainment. A few societies are yet another outlet for House Committee members' organizational drives-- "a communal activity" as a Winthrop House member put it. But Martha Miller is skeptical of the notion. "How much House camaraderie is there watching a movie?" she asks.

Still, most societies contain more-or-less serious film buffs paying at least lip service to the notion of "quality" films. The near-universal explanation of the encroachment of commercialism is exemplified by Quincy Cinema's dilemma. "It sort of galls me to be showing spaghetti westerns," says Wooley. "It's not good cinema; you can see them anywhere. But otherwise we'd lose our shirts."

"There are the film societies that show good films and lose money, and there are those that show bad films and make money," Winthrop's Campisano said, adding ruefully, "and those that show bad films and lose money."

The problems multiply as an ever-increasing number of film societies confront an ever-diminishing market for serious films. University audiences seem to prefer the familiar to the arcane. Attendance at comedies of the 30's and 40's have benefited from the latest wave of nostalgia, along with monster pictures and cartoons. In general, though, the interest in older films has been diminishing.

Film societies' problems are compounded by the lack of the captive audience available to societies at more secluded schools. In competition with the Cambridge and Boston theaters, with television and with each other, the societies have felt themselves pressed into showing more and more commercial output.

"The House societies are showing older films now, but not what they should," St. George says. "Another viewing of Bonnie and Clyde is not what is needed. Ideally, they should be showing 16 mm classics. I think they would do as well if not better than Bonnie and Clyde."

But most society members seem to disagree. And the guest for the audience drives the societies into a variant of Gresham's Law: Bad films drive out good. Among the most successful of the Films Across the River series last year was "Vixen"; Winthrop Films will offer "99 Women" this spring; and GSD Films is lustfully eyeing "Deep Throat" for next year.

A stated objective of the Council is the lessening of cutthroat competition among the societies and the provision of a minimum amount of security for each. At full strength, the societies flood the market; still, no one is willing to put a halt to freedom of entry. "We can't limit the market" Epps said. "It would be unfair to those interested in organizing a society. We'd rather not regulate too closely."

Reduction of the number of societies is hardly likely. "You can't go up to some group and say 'For the good of the rest of the film societies would you go out of business?' They'd toss you out the door," says Donna J. Yee '73, a member of the Council's executive board and Currier House Film Society. But if the number of societies cannot be reduced, financial pressures may force member of the council into present and ever narrowing range of films. And if its member societies hope to continue to develop, it will be up to the Council to find the means to counteract this pressure.

The film societies agree to a man that a film society can not remain financially solvent without a few "block-busters." Financial arrangements vary. In some Houses the House Committee funds the society's initial investment; in others, the money may come from the Master's funds--but the House that will tolerate continued deficits is a rarity, and film societies without House backing are under even tighter constraint. GSD Films' arrangement with the School of Design requires it to be in the black at the end of each month, or shut down. At the end of the year, any profits must go into the school's scholarship fund.

THE REGULATIONS for undergraduates prohibit showing commercial films for profit; they say nothing about using commercial films to recoup losses or allow financing of other projects. Proceeds from Eliot films have gone into financing a Hitchcock-style film by W. Donald Brown '74, head of the House's society. Profits in other Houses often go into new film equipment or towards payment for the current equipment. (Among film societies the veritable mark of status is ownership of two projectors, allowing continuous showings.)

Most of the profits from any one film, however, go into financing the "duds." Kirkland's box office successes this year will balance off the financial disasters of last year's East European series. Mankiewicz netted $400 on "The Graduate," just about enough to break even on their previous showings--which had reached a nadir the week before with a showing of "The Fly" to a grand total of three customers.

Some societies, especially the Graduate Schools' organizations, espouse no cause other than entertainment. A few societies are yet another outlet for House Committee members' organizational drives-- "a communal activity" as a Winthrop House member put it. But Martha Miller is skeptical of the notion. "How much House camaraderie is there watching a movie?" she asks.

Still, most societies contain more-or-less serious film buffs paying at least lip service to the notion of "quality" films. The near-universal explanation of the encroachment of commercialism is exemplified by Quincy Cinema's dilemma. "It sort of galls me to be showing spaghetti westerns," says Wooley. "It's not good cinema; you can see them anywhere. But otherwise we'd lose our shirts."

"There are the film societies that show good films and lose money, and there are those that show bad films and make money," Winthrop's Campisano said, adding ruefully, "and those that show bad films and lose money."

The problems multiply as an ever-increasing number of film societies confront an ever-diminishing market for serious films. University audiences seem to prefer the familiar to the arcane. Attendance at comedies of the 30's and 40's have benefited from the latest wave of nostalgia, along with monster pictures and cartoons. In general, though, the interest in older films has been diminishing.

Film societies' problems are compounded by the lack of the captive audience available to societies at more secluded schools. In competition with the Cambridge and Boston theaters, with television and with each other, the societies have felt themselves pressed into showing more and more commercial output.

"The House societies are showing older films now, but not what they should," St. George says. "Another viewing of Bonnie and Clyde is not what is needed. Ideally, they should be showing 16 mm classics. I think they would do as well if not better than Bonnie and Clyde."

But most society members seem to disagree. And the guest for the audience drives the societies into a variant of Gresham's Law: Bad films drive out good. Among the most successful of the Films Across the River series last year was "Vixen"; Winthrop Films will offer "99 Women" this spring; and GSD Films is lustfully eyeing "Deep Throat" for next year.

A stated objective of the Council is the lessening of cutthroat competition among the societies and the provision of a minimum amount of security for each. At full strength, the societies flood the market; still, no one is willing to put a halt to freedom of entry. "We can't limit the market" Epps said. "It would be unfair to those interested in organizing a society. We'd rather not regulate too closely."

Reduction of the number of societies is hardly likely. "You can't go up to some group and say 'For the good of the rest of the film societies would you go out of business?' They'd toss you out the door," says Donna J. Yee '73, a member of the Council's executive board and Currier House Film Society. But if the number of societies cannot be reduced, financial pressures may force member of the council into present and ever narrowing range of films. And if its member societies hope to continue to develop, it will be up to the Council to find the means to counteract this pressure.