Racism? For Hollywood, It’s All About Money

The limos are parked, the tuxes returned and the 50-foot Oscars tucked away until next year’s demi-holiday that is the Academy Awards. In the wake of last week’s glitter orgy and Jesse Jackson’s accusations leveled against the film industry, much has been written and spoken--yet again--about racism in Hollywood--in particular, a perceived lack of fairness surrounding the Oscar ceremonies. It was, on Jackson’s part, an ill-conceived and poorly timed tirade, at best.

An attack on the Academy Awards? This year? When it was produced by an African American, hosted by an African American, featured backstage interviews by an African American, was choreographed by . . . .

And fairness has never been a criteria with the oh-so-savvy Oscar voters. Is it fair that Kirk Douglas had to bide his years on the screen, being charismatic and compelling, just to take home a lifetime achievement award, while F. Murray What’s-his-name has had one cooling on his shelf for years.

Yes, a black man was ignored for his excellent work in a Shakespearean adaptation, but so was a white man. Isn’t it the ultimate form of parity when blacks and whites can be excluded together because everyone liked the pig movie better?

There’s little rhythm, or reason, to how things work in the Celluloid Jungle. No scientific formula, no mathematical theorem. Hey, we ain’t launching the space shuttle. In truth, racism is one of the smaller factors of the how’s and why’s.

That’s not to say there aren’t racists and bigots in the movie business--as there are in every other business that involves human beings. And, certainly, bigotry, cronyism and the old boys’ network play a part in keeping Hollywood’s hue light. Especially among the below-the-line talent.

But in terms of above-the-line talent--actors, directors, writers--an organized, institutionalized effort to keep out blacks, women and other minorities doesn’t much exist. I almost wish I could accuse the powers-that-be of collusion on a grand scale, of perpetrating a conspiracy of such enormity. That, at least, would be a tangible explanation for Hollywood’s blandness. But it would also be giving most of the executives who fill the studio suites and office towers too much credit.

The reason there aren’t more minorities on screen is far more a symptom of the same petty disease that infects every decision made in this Velvet Alley: Hollywood executives are scared. Twenty-four/seven/three-sixty-five. Scared they won’t be able to get the tens of millions of dollars they need to finance their movies. Scared their movies won’t make the hundreds of millions they need to show a profit. The bottom line on Hollywood is just that: the bottom line. Make money, by any means necessary.

Hollywood, after all, has never been too particular about the people to whom she grants work permits. Child molesters, drug addicts and statutory rapists have all made a comfortable living shooting pictures. Provided, of course, they returned a healthy profit to the studio. With that litmus test, it’s hard to believe anyone gets too bent out of shape just because someone isn’t as white as the miscreant one table over.

In my years in entertainment, both TV and film, the executives I’ve dealt with have had little regard for the color of my skin. Why should they? It doesn’t make much sense to turn your back on the man or woman who may just be responsible for your next blockbuster, or award winner.

When I set up my film, “Cold Around the Heart,” which Oliver Stone is producing, there was never any discussion among the financiers about whether they should make a movie written by a young black guy, or whether the same guy could direct a movie because he’s black. The project had the potential to turn a profit, and the world’s a beautiful place through cash-tinted glasses.

The only thing that held up production was attaching a star who was bankable in foreign markets. Many were passed on. All were white. What’s hampering black actors is the same problem that afflicts many white ones: The reluctance of studios, international finance companies and distributors to take a chance on lesser-known talent. In the new global economy, every dollar counts, and the fear is (again with the fear) people won’t pay to see unfamiliar faces. Black or white. Unfortunately, because black actors tend to be more unfamiliar, it’s harder to get studios to bankroll the bigger, higher-profile films, dependent on worldwide box office, if blacks are in key roles. Again, money more than race tends to be the root of the problem--but the formula’s the same no matter who you are: Fill seats, get the job.

It is, however, a vicious circle. You have to be able to get the job before you have a chance to fill seats. In truth, though, Asians, Latinos and Native Americans, whose contributions to the Hollywood fabric have shamefully been kept almost nonexistent, have far more of an ax to grind than African Americans.

Hollywood doesn’t hate blacks, it just loves to be in the black. So much so that it has blinded itself to creativity and multiplicity. Until the decision-makers stop worrying about box office, and start worrying about diversity and quality, films’ cultural makeup and artistic level will grow slowly, at best.

I remember a conversation I once had with an executive about a project we were working on. There were some significant script changes he wanted that I thought would injure the film’s integrity. I tried to explain my point of view, to convey how I wanted to make a film with resonance. His response was simple: “I want to make a movie that makes money.”

All this sort of executive knows is that films are supposed to be fresh--fresher than, say, the next Pauly Shore fiasco or “Saturday Night Live” sketch labored into a 90-minute snooze fest or “Die Hard” in a blank redux--but how to go about making movies fresh and meaningful is seemingly beyond their capacity. Meanwhile, the staleness forced onto the screen again and again is choking the life out of entertainment, and saddling it with an anemic 3% profit margin. Now that’s scary.

What’s revealing about the lack of black nominees at the Oscars isn’t that there are so few roles for African Americans, but that there are so few good ones. More often than not, African Americans are forced into a narrow strata of parts in urban and gangsta’ movies. Some of these films are earnest, some quickies, but most depict a world where black women are bitches and “hos,” and black men roll strapped and call their women bitches and “hos.” Fear, again, on the part of executives thinking of how many soundtracks they can sell along with the popcorn. Fear, too, unfortunately, on the part of many black filmmakers, more interested in image than content.

As the controversy over this year’s awards fades--and it will with the emergence of the next cause of the minute--the shining truth that remains is all of us in Hollywood can strive to do more, better and smarter with our work. At the very least, let’s not be afraid to try.