Gross Behaviour - by Leonard Klady

Pirates of the Caspian … Baltic … Yalu

When the Motion Picture Association of America decreed back in September 2003 that in its war to combat film piracy, videotape screeners would no longer be a component of the movie award season, it basically got blindsided by an industry backlash that asserted all manor of heinous political intent. There was most certainly overt politics involved in its decision to abruptly curtail a tradition that stretched back a decade. However, individual bias aside, evidence that the trade organization was in cahoots to cripple independence or disadvantage one or more kudos cliques never got higher on the totem pole than arch speculation.

The organization was partaking in D.C. rather than in Hollywood politics as any good lobby group ought to be doing. Its intent was to grab headlines and catch the attention of policy makers on the Hill. The fact is that it did just that in an even more spectacular manner than had been mapped out.

MPAA president Jack Valenti never said that eliminating mailings of screeners to members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, film guild and union folk and various critical groups would close the door on film piracy. He said that the industry was waging an all-out war on intellectual property theft and screeners were one beachhead it could take. The subsequent fall out within the rank and file; its concession to AMPAS and a court order that sided against the policy will require considerable fence mending in the years ahead. You couldn't characterize that aspect as a peripheral benefit.

But, while the manner of execution was clumsy, it's difficult to argue its effect. Piracy in the form of illegal Internet downloads and bootlegged DVDs sold on the streets of Shanghai, Bogota and Beverly Hills was suddenly on the front page. The trade papers doggedly followed the arrest of an L.A.P.D. officer and the investigation of an Academy member whose screener copies were duped, digitalized and distributed illicitly. The game face being presented in all this is that the tide has turned and the pirates are now on the defensive.

Whether these and other anecdotal victories translate into keeping piracy in check won't be known for several years. For decades impact studies have assessed the damage from various forms of illegal activities at 6% to 8% of overall movie revenues in theaters and ancillary areas. The current figure of $2.5 billion to $3 billion is at the low end of the range.

Officially, the anti-piracy campaign is about quashing all criminal activity but it's unlikely anyone at the MPAA believes 100% eradication is possible. Maintaining the current loss level is likely deemed acceptable and reducing it by 1% would have to be considered a real achievement. The least of the problem occurs in North America where there's an additional glitch that involves nuisance and penny ante felons. If initial reports surrounding the Academy screeners prove correct, the person who was actually converting the tapes and putting them on the web wasn't doing it for personal gain but for some misguided sense of glory and beating the system.

Most people view passing around a pilfered DVD as a victimless crime and the MPAA is trying to counter that perception with a series of PSAs that involve ordinary film folk like stunt men and scenic designers. It's an apt response but unlikely to change the general public perception of Hollywood as a place populated by $20 million performers and senior execs with lavish homes and company jets. Those stratospheric salaries may, in fact, be a greater threat to a laborer's job than the revenue being siphoned off by gangsters operating in parts of the globe where leakage is conspicuous - Asia and the former Soviet Bloc countries.

The current industry rallying cry is: we don't want to wind up with the sort of mess that's crippled the recording industry. It's the sort of creeping message of paranoia that's been employed from everything from the Red Scare to WMD. What music and film industries share is that public attitude that stealing doesn't really hurt anyone. But the differences in the experience are palpable. There is nothing comparable in film yet to the Walkman. The equivalent to going to a movie theater is a live concert and that musical arena remains robust. So, there's an argument to be made that a base audience exists for going out to see a film that won't be dissuaded or eroded. I've been told that the same geeks that trade in pre release camcorder versions of blockbusters are the same zealots that camp out to be the first to see those event films on the big screen.

The situation overseas has some very significant differences. In many areas of the world until very recently, American movies either could not be seen or were severely limited by government importation quotas. So, there was a tradition of illegal viewing that gave root to criminal activity and many top filmmakers gave voice to a sentiment that if the only way to have their work seen was in clandestine fashion, so be it. The MPAA often looked the other way, believing exposure to American movies would eventually pay off when regime change opened the door for regulated trade. The devil's bargain was that the millions going into criminal syndicates fueled bigger bribes and kickbacks that encouraged industry accomplices to gamble they would not be caught or prosecuted.

Deciphering the situation is a bit like wading through a problem in logic. If the major perpetrators are organized criminals and if their activities require some compliance from legal sources, where are the major areas of leakage that need to be stopped up? In deconstructing the question to assess its validity, you must first ask: is it possible that most piracy stems from small timers that videotape from preview screenings and pass off copies to friends? The latter scenario flies in the face of reason because the process is slow and cumbersome and cannot possibly generate millions and billions in illegal revenues annually. Now these petty thieves may be cogs in a much larger machine that organized and experienced in everything from weapons to drugs and prostitution.

With the monetary stakes so fertile and virtually everyone having a price, is it conceivable some nabobs of the film industry might be tempted to cross the line? Well we already know that some who receive award screeners are willing to give them up for a song, and possibly a dance. Ramp that sop up tenfold and offer it to someone at a lab or movie theater or delivery company and there could well be a long queue with outstretched palms. In fact, given the money involved, a crime syndicate might well decide to have it both ways and buy a film lab, theater chain or messenger service. I don't know whether that has occurred but the simple fact is that high quality copies that pop up well in advance of theatrical debuts cannot be made without access to top grade materials. And, on a regular basis, there are a limited number of people who can keep the door unlocked for the wrong sort to sneak in.

To date, we've seen some small fry get their fingers burned. However, if the MPAA truly wants to send out a message that its engaged in a serious campaign it has to track down, hook and reel in some bonafide sharks. When I queried Valenti about the significance of piracy via screeners sent out for awards consideration, his testy response was, "so what if it's only one and a half percent, we're going to fight it wherever it exists." There's no question that the war on piracy has, since September, been engaged in some well-documented skirmishes. As to when and if it goes toe-to-toe with the enemy has yet to be written. They can call it whatever they like - combat, warfare, battle - but it sure looks a lot like a policing action.