A Safe and Sane Commencement : CalArts: The Valencia institute tries to curtail those wacky student outbursts that made its graduation ceremony famous--or infamous.

This afternoon’s graduation at CalArts threatens to deteriorate into something truly unusual:

A traditional ceremony.

For years, CalArts’ commencement has been known for its high jinks. Students have arrived at the podium by horse, limousine and helicopter. Some have arrived nude. One recent grad accepted his degree while being whipped by two women singing German opera.

The highlight of last year’s ceremony came when a student chain-sawed through the stage. He’d spent the night underneath and, when his name was called, cut himself a hatch door and scrambled up to receive a diploma.

Today’s pomp and circumstance may be significantly subdued: Administrators at the Valencia arts school have rescinded a 20-year-old policy that allowed each student five minutes of performance time at the podium.

“The downside of uninhibited self-expression,” said Steven Lavine, the institute’s president, “is that if you’re graduating 200 students, it takes a long time.”

Recent free-form commencements have stretched more than five hours under a hot sun, with much of the audience leaving before the end. Lavine’s dictum calls for an orderly and orchestrated two-hour affair.

But don’t expect to see any caps and gowns adorning the Class of ’91. There has never been, and still isn’t, a dress code. And the administration’s decision to streamline the ceremony has brought a storm of student complaints.

“One of the things that attracted me to CalArts was the free-wheeling nature, the freedom to express your passion,” said Joe DeGuglielmo, who will receive a master’s degree in theater direction. “Cutting off the graduation ceremony is the first step in dismantling that sense of freedom.”

Student Lisa Schoyer said, “It’s censorship.”

After meetings with students, Lavine has allowed an open-mike session beginning 15 minutes after commencement exercises. Most students said they aren’t satisfied with that concession.

“I went to Middlebury College in Vermont and we had a very traditional ceremony,” said Jacques Heim, who will receive a master’s degree in dance today. “This is an arts school and a traditional ceremony doesn’t feel right. Having people do crazy, creative things, that is appropriate.”

The new graduation is seen by many as part of a distressing trend at CalArts. The institute opened in 1970 as a school with no structured classes or grades. Experimentation was the order of the day. This environment nurtured a cadre of talented young people, including artists David Salle and Matt Mullican, actors Ed Harris and Paul Reubens (better known as Pee-wee Herman), and film director Michael Pressman.

But news reports of sex, drugs and nude swimming on campus upset the board of trustees and the Disney family, which had spent $36 million to build the school. CalArts eventually instituted class schedules and structured curricula. Lavine, president since 1988, looks and acts the part of the academician.

“CalArts has become a much more hard-working, hard-driving atmosphere than it was in its early years,” he said. “Students realize it’s a tough world out there for artists, so they want to extract every last ounce of juice from the institute before they graduate. That may make us less playful, but I don’t think being less playful makes us more conservative.”

The president has been less than pleased with the graduation ceremony. When he first arrived, Lavine gave a commencement speech to the rowdy and less-than-attentive Class of 1988. “Don’t you want a little wisdom before you leave?” Lavine asked.

“No!” came the resounding answer.

Lavine has also complained that newspaper and television reporters, in covering the commencement, have portrayed the institute as simply “that kooky school on the hill.”

There is a dose of fear in all that free-spirited expression, people at the school say. Art students are entering a world that doesn’t have much use for them. CalArts grads will have far fewer job opportunities than students who leave USC with a business degree or UCLA with a medical degree.

Actors, for instance, might have to wait tables to survive. Visual artists might have to teach while searching for a gallery that will show and sell their work. Jazz musicians might play dance tunes on cruise lines while auditioning for more challenging gigs.

So graduation becomes, to some degree, a party at the edge of the abyss.

“For some of us,” said Phyllis Eakins, a graduating art student, “it’s the last chance to perform before we go off into a garage for five years to do our art.”

Said Cristyne Lawson, dean of the dance school: “Our graduation is kind of a ritualistic release of anxiety.”

In recent years, however, a new anxiety has stolen some of the ritual’s fire. The cost of attending CalArts for four years is now $44,000. At graduation, creative outbursts have declined because students feel obliged to spend their five minutes thanking parents who helped put them through college.

“It’s become so boring and so Academy Award-ish,” said Todd Pimentel, a theater management student.

Thus came the order to expedite, and the attendant controversy. At least one student marveled at the commotion.

“With all the issues that have occurred here, like multiculturalism and institutional racism, nobody spoke out,” said Daniel Veneciano, an art student. “To argue about your last five minutes at the school seems hypocritical. Where was that passion during the school year?”

And there’s no guarantee that today’s ceremony, with its tight scheduling, will come off as planned. “I don’t think we can control the students,” Lawson said. “I don’t think we want to.”

In fact, some predict that the administration’s efforts will backfire: Student backlash may make today’s commencement even crazier than those of past years.

“I’m not just going to get up and walk across the stage,” said Teela Shine, a dance student. “I’m going to say something.”

Others have promised to demonstrate, vocally and otherwise, during commencement. Lavine is well aware that students don’t take well to rules and regulations.

“Historically, we’ve had lots of antics,” he said. “I really don’t know what to predict.”