PERSPECTIVE ON VIOLENCE IN FILMS : Charge a ‘Slasher Tax’ for the Most Savage Fare : The extra cost might make producers and moviegoers think twice without abridging anyone’s rights.

Most Americans no doubt sympathize with Bob Dole’s stinging indictment of the entertainment industry, though they will rightly question the timing of his crusade.

For one thing, his sweeping denunciation comes in the aftermath of the Oscar for “Forrest Gump,” at a moment when Hollywood seems engaged in an obvious effort to offer more options in family-friendly entertainment. Moreover, his comments come in the questionable context of a presidential campaign; had Dole begun his ardent appeals for industry accountability before his announcement of candidacy, show business leaders might have viewed his statements less cynically.

Meanwhile, Dole faces a “so what?” response even from many (including this critic) who have spent years advancing the same basic message. As a master legislative tactician, the senator is renowned for fashioning down-to-earth solutions to problems he chooses to address, but his eloquent speech on Hollywood offers no suggestions at all for governmental initiatives in response to media degradation.

In a sense, that’s a shame, because justified fears of censorship--and a healthy respect for the First Amendment--need not altogether paralyze elected officials in the face of the worst extremes in entertainment. Government (at the federal or state level) could encourage greater responsibility from creators and consumers without denying anyone’s right to free expression.

One way to achieve that goal and to move beyond mere rhetoric might involve a surcharge on the most irresponsible and destructive forms of pop culture pollution--call it, if you will, a “slasher tax.”

There are precedents for this approach to dangerous addictions. Americans have a right to buy cigarettes, but the smoking habit is heavily taxed in recognition of its high social cost. Similarly, we accept taxing vodka more heavily than root beer, since alcohol causes more serious problems for society.

By the same token, why should it be unthinkable to suggest that a vile, hyper-violent, altogether irresponsible film like the current “Johnny Mnemonic” should be made available to consumers at a higher cost than “A Little Princess?”

A slasher tax might add a dollar to the cost of a ticket (and 50 cents per video rental) for films that unmistakably glamorize violence. The proceeds from this additional tariff could then be used to benefit crime victims, or for programs of violence prevention and law enforcement, just as some of the tax on cigarettes supports lung-disease research and anti-smoking campaigns.

An additional dollar at the box office won’t stop anyone who’s intent on seeing the latest cinematic blood bath; moviegoers who savor this form of entertainment would still enjoy every right to indulge their passion. The slasher tax, however, would send a powerful message that society disapproves and recognizes the long-term costs of these brutal diversions.

If pop culture consumers went to the local multiplex and noted a price differential between “Pulp Fiction” and “Hoop Dreams,” a few might consider saving a couple of bucks and trying the less savage alternative. A slasher tax could also change the economic equation for the studios by making it slightly more difficult to market movies that exploit violence, while making it easier to sell projects that steer clear of mayhem and mutilation.

This admittedly radical notion of a content tax raises all sorts of thorny questions about which films to target and whom to empower in making those judgments. A responsible approach would limit this sanction to the few films that represent the most irresponsible extremes of big-screen brutality. In this regard, context is everything. The fact that a film contains violent scenes (as does “Schindler’s List” and, for that matter, “Forrest Gump”) doesn’t mean that it glamorizes violent behavior. The slasher tax should be reserved for those relatively rare releases that openly encourage simple-mindedly bloody solutions to life’s problems. In “The Specialist,” for instance, the hero (Sylvester Stallone) is a diabolically clever (and very sexy) bombing expert who merrily blows up cops as well as mobsters.

Responsibility for designating which titles would be subjected to the slasher tax might fall on a panel of media and psychological experts, similar to the film board already established in federal legislation regarding selection of “national treasure” films for special protection and preservation. Essential for the effective functioning of any such panel would be the enunciation of clear, coherent guidelines in the legislation itself; no producer should be slapped with a slasher tax unexpectedly.

Would this sort of social initiative instantly solve the problems of media violence that Dole addressed? Of course not, any more than “sin taxes” on cigarettes and alcohol have eliminated our taste for tobacco or liquor.

The best response to the Hollywood crisis of values lies with a heightened sense of responsibility--and, as Dole suggested, of shame. At the same time, it’s appropriate to ask our elected leaders to at least consider practical approaches to go along with their appropriately impassioned preaching.