“I wish to join the Legion of Decency, which condemns vile and unwholesome moving pictures. I unite with all who protest against them as a grave menace to youth, to home life, to country and to religion. I condemn absolutely those salacious motion pictures which…are corrupting public morals and promoting a sex mania in our land.” –original pledge of the Catholic Legion of Decency (CLOD)
In 1968, “vile and unwholesome moving pictures” were the greatest threat to Western Civilization. At least according to the good priests at Bishop Neumann High School in South Philly who forced us to sign a pledge similar to the one quoted above. Nothing could damage my immortal soul more than the sight of Liz Taylor in a pink slip in Butterfield 8 or slutty Natalie Wood trying to seduce her latest conquest (Paul Newman) in This Property is Condemned. How I envied those girls.
Then there was Rosemary’s Baby. Despite the threat of eternal damnation, how could I possibly resist the lure of a movie about devil worshippers? Not only was it condemned by the church, but it also featured Peyton Place superstar Mia Farrow. Peyton Place was TV’s steamiest soap. It aired at night. It took a frank and daring look at illegitimate children, premarital sex and divorce, those mainstays of American life. On Peyton Place, Mia was everybody’s favorite waif. In real life, she was the ultimate bad girl. She had a thing for married men, and publicly pursued two very famous ones: Frank Sinatra and Andre Previn. While I didn’t share her taste in men, I admired her knack for scandal.
Every time I walked into that small neighborhood theatre that showed the sexiest and most blasphemous movies made in the 60s, I knew I was committing a mortal sin. That was the greatest thrill of it all. Sitting in the dark eating lousy popcorn smothered in fake butter was never such an act of defiance. Next stop: the Communist Party.
CLOD (such an appropriate acronym!) turned into the National Catholic Office for Motion Pictures. Its heavy influence eventually waned. In its heyday, its intimidation of Hollywood was second only to the House Un-American Activities Committee. They were birds of a feather, each trying to control the way Americans thought.
Fortunately, these days, we don’t hear much about the US Conference of Catholic Bishops’ Office for Film and Broadcasting, the modern-day successor to CLOD. But the spirit of censorship that I grew up with is alive and well. Just look at the controversy over the Da Vinci Code.
I confess that I haven’t read the book so I can’t attest to whether it’s good or not. I haven’t seen the movie. I will now. I can’t miss a flick that has so effectively ruffled the feathers of Catholics throughout the world. After all, they don’t get riled easily. Widespread hunger, torture, lack of health insurance, homelessness and genocide don’t seem to phase them much. Ditto for an illegal war in Iraq that’s killing their sons and daughters. But a movie that proposes that Mary Magdalene was married to Jesus, well, that’s a good reason to take to the streets and burn books.
It’s nice to know that not much has changed since I was a teen.
Tommi Avicolli Mecca is a radical working-class southern Italian queer activist, performer and writer who is grateful to CLOD for the great movies he saw as a kid.
