Forgive, Protest or Even Learn?

The night before the Academy Awards were held in Hollywood, the Washington media elite roasted President Clinton at the annual Gridiron Dinner. Talk about a role reversal. The Oscars had a thumbs-up or -down test on the rectitude of Elia Kazan’s honorary Oscar; the Gridiron had Sen. John McCain cracking Viagra jokes and President Clinton being serenaded by an Al Gore impersonator who, to the tune of “Embraceable You,” crooned: “Impeach me, so I can be popular too, impeach me, I can be sleazy for you.”

In an improbable turn of events, it was Hollywood where morality mattered. In a year when American politics was overwhelmed by a tawdry presidential sex scandal, complete with semen-stained dresses and X-rated love patter, this year’s Big Oscar Issue was something with considerably more heft: Should Hollywood forgive Elia Kazan for informing on his friends before the House Un-American Activities Committee?

To no one’s surprise, Kazan had nothing new to say when he hesitantly walked out on stage. At 89, his taste for battle is behind him.

The real drama was seeing how Hollywood’s politically correct celebrity elite handled the moment: Would they stand or sit on their hands, as Kazan’s adversaries had urged. The response cut across traditional left-right boundaries. Warren Beatty, politically liberal but a Kazan supporter, stood and applauded. Steven Spielberg, a major Clinton campaign contributor and a Kazan admirer, applauded, but stayed seated. However, his DreamWorks SKG partner, David Geffen, another Hollywood liberal titan, stayed silently in his seat, as did Paramount chief Sherry Lansing.

Ed Harris, who looks like such a good-ol’-boy flagwaver that he’s always cast in astronaut movies, sat in stony silence, as did Nick Nolte. Meryl Streep, known for supporting liberal causes, stood and applauded. So did Kurt Russell, a prominent Hollywood conservative. Even reports of how many stood and how many sat were split; the TV cameras seemed to capture a majority standing and applauding, those inside the auditorium said later that three-quarters of those in attendance stayed seated.

But long after the up or down head count is forgotten, a bigger question remains: Why did Kazan’s 47-year-old transgression still arouse such turbulent emotion in Hollywood? For hours before the Oscars began on Sunday, hundreds of protesters stood in the street, armed with placards saying “Don’t Whitewash the Blacklist” and “Elia Kazan: the Linda Tripp of the 1950s.” For weeks before the ceremony, the controversy raged on the pages of every imaginable newspaper and magazine, as well as CNN and the major TV networks.

The story had international appeal. In the days before the Oscars, blacklisted screenwriter Bernard Gordon gave interviews to reporters from Brazil, Japan, Colombia, Germany, South Africa, Australia and Italy. When an anti-Kazan group held a press conference last Thursday, it was packed with camera crews from 15 countries, including Israel, Sweden and Switzerland.

To be sure, the Academy Awards themselves helped fuel the controversy. In years past, both the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times have run stories about Hollywood’s refusal to forgive Kazan, yet no one called from Brazil to pursue the issue. The Oscars serve as a magnet for media attention: Why else was Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura in town last week? With a worldwide audience in the hundreds of millions, it’s an event with a built-in spotlight, which both pro- and anti-Kazan forces shrewdly used to their own advantage.

Kazan Used as Symbol of the Larger Issue

But there’s more to it than just Oscar mania. And more to it than just Kazan. That’s why his actual appearance Sunday felt so anticlimactic. He’s simply a symbol. The real debate is about a real issue, and its many complexities, not the man. Is there ever a good reason for informing on friends--or enemies? Would it be different if Kazan had informed on Nazis who tortured Jews? Or Klansman who bombed a black church? And even if you believe what Kazan did was wrong, because it lent legitimacy to HUAC’s Red Scare witch hunt, does that disqualify him for an award intended to honor his extraordinary film and achievements? Should we judge artists by their work or by the way they live their lives?

It’s a vivid moral issue. As one writer who covers the industry put it the other day, “It might be the only moral issue in Hollywood.”

Coverage of the movie business is filled with stories about box office, movie budgets and studio rivalries. Moral issues aren’t much of a factor. Films are more violent than ever. Teen movies are saturated with casual sex. Yet it’s rare to find anyone in Hollywood who’ll take responsibility for debasing our culture or examining whether sex and violence have a negative impact on young moviegoers. Reviewing “8MM” recently, The Times film critic Kenneth Turan blasted Sony Pictures for making a trashy, amoral piece of junk. No one at the studio seemed fazed--the movie opened No. 1 at the box office.

So in an era dominated by tabloid culture, where the emphasis is on personality and emotion--how do you feel about Monica, Princess Di or O.J.?--it was refreshing to find movie fans debating a moral dilemma grounded in ideas.

It was also a rare opportunity for an industry to confront a dark chapter in its history. Just as “Saving Private Ryan” helped stir a reappraisal of the heroism of our World War II generation elders, the Kazan furor has inspired a renewed interest in the Hollywood blacklist. It was a shameful chapter in movie history, when the industry ruined the careers of many of its most gifted writers, actors and directors, all in the name of Cold War anti-communism.

Until the past weeks, with the exception of a few events staged by the guilds commemorating the 50th anniversary of the blacklist, the industry silence has been deafening. Dozens of films have been made about the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement, but outside of “The Front” and “Guilty by Suspicion,” Hollywood has shied away from chronicling its own traumatic past.

Perhaps that is why the debate over Kazan held our attention. As Joseph Kanon, author of the new Cold War thriller “The Prodigal Spy,” recently said: The Cold War “seems to be the linchpin of the century. Everything had consequences. People’s lives had more gravitas.”

That’s certainly what has come out of the Kazan controversy--an appreciation that the choices people make in their lives often have grave consequences. When Karl Malden, one of Kazan’s oldest friends, nominated him for the honorary Oscar, he told the academy board: “As far as I’m concerned, there’s no place for politics in any art form. An award like this is about your body of work.”

Politics and Artistry: Intertwined or Not?

No one doubts Malden’s sincerity, but his is a uniquely American point of view. As Americans, we take our artistic freedom for granted. Outside the Chandler Pavilion Sunday protesting Kazan’s Oscar award was Czech filmmaker Peter Nydrle. Like other filmmakers who’ve been forced into exile, he has first-hand experience with the consequences of politics.

“To say there is no room for politics in art is to defy the laws of gravity,” he said. “You can’t possibly separate politics from art. From the day Leonard Da Vinci was commissioned to build the fortifications around Milan, every artist’s life and work has been shaped by politics. No matter how many great films Kazan made, it doesn’t make up for all the lives that were ruined.”

Americans, on the other hand, tend to be big believers in forgiveness. And for many Americans, particularly younger ones who have never been put to the test, it’s hard to place yourself on a higher moral ground than Kazan. If you really want a scare, look around today’s Hollywood and try to imagine how many people would risk giving up their careers to do the right thing.

But Nydrle has a good point. It is impossible to separate politics and art. And perhaps the Kazan debate has served as an apt reminder that if we expect to learn anything from history, it’s one thing to forgive, but another thing to forget.