WOMEN IN FILM HEAR WORDS OF CRYSTAL FROM BERGMAN

As Women in Film’s 10th anniversary Crystal Awards luncheon ceremonies got under way, the clatter of plates and an incessant buzz from scores of table-hoppers visiting hundreds of their friends all but drowned out the words and the music.

Of course the decibel level from 1,800 celebrants at “the biggest and best ever” luncheon of the organization, which was established to promote the employment, depiction and position of women in movies and television, spelled a smashing success. Many who lunched Friday in the grand ballroom of the Century Plaza Hotel were men, and the event was garnished with a roster of power tables.

The words belonged to the organization’s new president, Barbara Klein, a self-described “indy-prod” or independent producer, who happily compared the problems of the occasion to those encountered at the Academy Awards. “I’ve been told they’re every bit as bad . . . and that is very good,” she said.

And the music, played on a white grand piano on stage, came from the works of two award recipients: composer-producer-impresario Quincy Jones (“The Color Purple” and “We Are The World”), who received the Norma Zarky Humanitarian Award, and songwriter Marilyn Bergman, three-time Oscar recipient (with husband Alan) for “The Windmills of Your Mind,” “The Way We Were” and the score from “Yentl.”

Other Crystal awardees were actress Sally Field, hailed as a two-time Oscar winner for “Norma Rae” and “Places in the Heart” as well as for being an independent film producer, and Marion Dougherty, a veteran of 36 years in the film business, now vice president of casting for Warner Bros.

Emcee Valerie Harper sought to cope with the noise in best early Mary Tyler Moore. She put on a happy face. “It’s a like a family picnic. . . .”

When the audience quieted down, it was more like a political rally with Bergman, a leading member of the liberal Hollywood Women’s Political Committee, delivering a kind of keynote address, with Field and Jones almost in the role of supporting players.

“Interesting things, words, “ said Bergman in a refrain, as she challenged the meanings inherent in words, from pro-life to meltdown.

Beyond the winners’ circle, the event drew Barbra Streisand, who brushed aside interviewers, saying “This is Marilyn’s day;” “Color Purple” author and Pulitzer winner Alice Walker, who presented Jones his award; directors Sidney Pollack and Martin Ritt, who presented to Bergman and Field, respectively; actress Dianne Wiest of “Hannah and Her Sisters” who presented to Dougerty who gave Wiest her first break; as well as Alan Alda, Anne Bancroft and Florence Henderson, who sat at a table down front.

Crystal recipients are chosen by a committee of about 20 Women in Film board members, foundation members and past winners. “We try to balance the scale (of careers), of course,” Klein noted privately. Dougherty later thanked the organization for honoring the “women--and men--(of casting) who have worked so hard, contributed so much and been mentioned so little.”

Pre-event ceremonies had the flavor of the Oscars, too. A pecking order was clearly visible. “I’m the one behind the potted palm,” Dougherty said, pointing to an illustration of herself on a curtained screen. And when she, Field and Bergman had lined up for photographers who seemed to be shouting “Sally!” in unison, Dougherty quipped: “How come they never say ‘Marion’ or ‘Marilyn?’ ”

Meanwhile, Jones was collecting Walker at the airport. When they arrived arms entwined, gazing admiringly at each other, the tidal wave of press flowed to them and left as soon as Streisand, in a large gray beret, sauntered in.

“This award is particularly meaningful to me,” Bergman began, “as it comes from Women in Film--both very important in my life--women and film. Not girls in film. Not ladies in film. But women . . .

“Interesting things, words,” she said. “Girl: non-threatening, unimpowered, non-authoritative. According to Webster, ‘a female servant.’

“Lady: identifying class or social position. Not free, belonging to, a mistress of, a lord. Webster again: ‘Well-bred, of refined and gentle manner.’

“Woman: Clearly and cleanly identifying gender. Independent, responsible, empowered. According to Webster: ‘An adult, female person.’

“Interesting things, words,” said Bergman bringing down the house. “I’ve had a love affair with them for as long as I can remember. . . . Words can be used to express or repress, to release or restrain, to enlighten or obscure. Through words we can adore each other or abhor each other. Nations can offend or befriend one another. Words can enslave and keep people in their place. They’re easy prey for those who would tamper with the integrity of their meaning.

“Like those who use the word peacekeeper for an instrument of death and destruction, who refer to the contras of Nicaragua as freedom fighters. And Moral Majority. To my mind, neither moral nor the majority. Or those who call themselves pro-life, a word which makes it appear that those who oppose them are anti-life. . . .”

Bergman also took on “Rambo,” scoffing that a message movie “invariably means that a movie is not commercial and is left of center. And yet, aren’t ‘Rambo’ and ‘Cobra’ perfect message movies? Their message is loud and clear: ‘Violent solutions are the only solutions.’ . . . ‘The good guys can’t win if they have to play by the rules.’

“The rules,” Bergman said, “are the Constitution of the United States, the courts, and the laws of due process. All drowned in blood--in orgies of murder and weapon worship, and all for the almighty buck.”

Where, she asked, are movies like “The Grapes of Wrath,” which dealt with the hungry and homeless of the Great Depression, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” which dealt with racism, “Dr. Strangelove” which “addressed the insanity of war, and ‘Tootsie,’ perhaps one of the most insightful movies about sexism ever made? Highly successful, all of them.”

Sure, we want entertainment, Bergman said, “but don’t we have to make sure that there’s always a place for films that reaffirm the best in us, that elevate, that illuminate?”

At her turn, Field said she is not a leader like Bergman. “It’s taken me a long time to accept the fact that I am a woman. . . .” She said that initially she liked playing the role of the helpless victim but that she was “lucky enough to have caught the wave” of the women’s movement, that she was “lucky enough to have a dream.”

Field said that as a woman she has discovered she has “more choices. And I do. I look at this Administration, and I wonder how a bunch of old men sit in a room and decide what a woman has to do with her body, how this Administration cares so very very much about the quality of life from conception to birth, and after that it doesn’t give a damn.”

Jones talked about the “unifying spirit . . . of struggle” against apartheid, the consequences of drugs and of Chernobyl. Echoing Field, who talked about the importance of women becoming better at what they do so that their influence can be felt, Jones assured: “We in the room will make a difference.”

However, in a long list of those he wanted to thank, Jones engendered quite a few gasps when he mentioned his wife, “who gave up her career to grab ahold of . . . (every) new obsession” he comes up with.

Both he and Walker sought to soothe any lingering doubts about the message of “The Color Purple” as a movie. Walker said Jones would catch every subtlety of meaning she wanted to convey, that oftentimes “my brother (was) ahead of me,” leading the way. And Jones said Walker was “very protective of her sisters.” Once he said he referred to “The Man Upstairs.” In turn, he said she countered, “or Someone.”