Troubling TV ads

(2/1/93)

By Marc Silver; Sarah Burke; Jill Sieder; Kukula Glastris

Parents who peek at kids' shows may be shocked -- by the commercials.

More than 6 million children glue themselves to the screen for each weekly episode of "Dinosaurs." ABC's puppet sitcom seems like one prime-time show parents don't have to worry about -- a safe haven in a TV landscape increasingly pockmarked by sex and violence.

But on January 8, seconds after the closing credits faded, the mood abruptly shifted with a promo for "Dead Before Dawn," an ABC-TV movie. "When she couldn't be the perfect wife, her husband planned the perfect murder," said the voice-over. A man loaded a gun. A woman bared a bruised shoulder and whimpered, "I'm afraid for the kids." The man growled, "I wish my wife was dead," and smashed a frame holding her photograph.

A cuddly dinosaur and a murderous spouse aren't the only odd couple on television. Programs aimed at families or children may be paired with ads for violent or sexually frank TV movies and theatrical films, as well as tabloid talk shows. The practice is perfectly legal; federal law is silent on the matter of adult- type ads on family shows as long as the ad isn't "indecent," meaning it contains obscene language or "patently offensive" sexual or excretory content. And the promos can be worse than the programs. On a show, the good guy usually wins in the end. A blurb has the violence but not the resolution.

Scary stuff. Some kids seem to handle strong stuff without blinking. Others are shaken. During an afternoon rerun of "The Wonder Years," 6-year-old Leah Taffel saw an ad for "Nightmare on Elm Street." That night she told her parents, "I can't get that scary guy out of my head." (Her father, a psychologist, writes about the incident, and how parents can reassure kids unnerved by what they see on TV, in the February McCall's.) And TV violence can take a toll beyond bad dreams. In a study of 875 third graders that began in 1960 and has continued over the years, psychologist Leonard Eron of the University of Michigan's Institute for Social Research concludes that large doses of TV violence make children more likely to act aggressively and to think of the world as frightening.

Television watchdogs and the industry are in agreement that programs geared to families and children should not be tied to such commercials. In December, the networks promised to consider the "likely composition of the intended audience" before scheduling a violent ad. Many local stations also try to avoid questionable ads. Still, such ads manage to slip through. If parents understand the workings of TV advertising, complaining can be surprisingly effective.

A 50-hour marathon. No quantitative studies have taken the measure of inappropriate commercials. So U.S. News, assisted by researchers who study violence on television, sampled 50 hours of programming -- not to establish a precise incidence of unseemly ads per hour but to show that they are far from rare. Inappropriateness defies definition, of course. U.S. News applied Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart's pornography standard: "I know it when I see it." Staffers watched programs aimed at children or family audiences on network-affiliated, independent and cable stations in Atlanta, Chicago and Washington, D.C., along with ads within the programs and immediately before and after. Adult programs that might draw young viewers, like "The Golden Girls," were excluded.

The envelope, please. The results: a dozen questionable ads, mainly in late afternoon and early evening. This suggests that kids watching 25 hours of TV a week -- roughly the national average -- could see several problematic ads. Some examples:

A promo for "In the Heat of the Night" ran during "Pinocchio's Storybook Adventure," a movie aired at 4 p.m. on a weekday. The teasers: "A troubled girl gives birth to a dead baby," and "having sex with a retarded person is sexual battery."

A promo for the new "The Untouchables" series appeared in an afternoon rerun of "Full House." One man is shot in the shoulder; another gets it in the back and lands on his face.

An ad for "Leprechaun," an R-rated horror film, ran before "The Simpsons." In one scene, a hand reaches through the floor to grab a victim.

Most TV executives who were asked to respond to these and other inappropriate ads asserted that someone had goofed. One exception was washington's WFTY, an independent. A spokesman defended the "Heat of the Night" ad as appropriate because "Pinocchio's Storybook Adventure" is not a movie for kids under 12, anyway ("too much dialogue, if you will").

Complaining usually works best at the local level. "A station doesn't want to look like Godzilla in its community," says Peggy Charren, founder of Action for Children's Television. She suggests calling the station, getting the general manager's name, then phoning back and asking for the GM. An early-morning call might catch the GM before the daily round of meetings gets underway. "Pick the most violent ad and say, `What is your excuse for this?' " says Charren. "And I'd say, `If I don't hear back from you, I'll write a letter to the local newspaper.' " The goal is to get the station to instruct its staff to be more careful about the mix of ads and family-oriented programs and to encourage the local GM to squawk to the network if network promos are at issue.

The more complaints, of course, the greater the impact. The PTA could prove a useful ally. But sometimes one call is enough. "When a parent complained about an ad for a book on serial killers during `Full House,' I got rid of it," says Herman Ramsey, general manager of Atlanta's WGNX.

The explosion of cable TV has upped the confusion about where to complain. A viewer can call the cable system to discuss a local ad, and the local operator can steer you to an appropriate address or phone number for a complaint about a national ad.

When a staffer stonewalls, parents can turn to the Children's Advertising Review Unit of the Council of Better Business Bureaus (845 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10022). The industry self-regulatory group investigates inappropriate ads on local stations, networks or cable channels and leans on offending parties. The group moves quickly; most initial investigations are done within 10 days.

Until TV executives get the message, parents are at a practical disadvantage. There is no way -- short of banning TV -- to perpetually stand guard. A parental crash course in TV literacy might help kids fend off disturbing ads, says George Gerbner, professor of communications at the University of Pennsylvania. The lesson is simple, says Gerbner: "Ads are bizarre and graphic so viewers will pay attention."

Television isn't the only medium to mismatch ads and shows. Movie theaters sometimes show trailers far more unsettling than the feature film. Last summer a Bethesda, Md., mother took her 7-year-old son to see "A League of Their Own," the PG film about a women's baseball team (a New York Times reviewer said it contained "mildly vulgar jokes and language"). First, however, came a trailer for R-rated "Dracula": A drop of blood grew larger and larger until it covered the screen. Then a female vampire arose from a coffin. The irate mother marched straight to the theater manager. "That's the way they send them to us," he said.

Trailers for rent. He was right. National chains own many theaters and decide which trailers to show when. In 1989, the National Association of Theater Owners called for trailers suitable for young children prior to G-rated movies. Trailers for PG films may not get the same scrutiny. "Forever Young," a PG movie, is often preceded by a trailer for "Falling Down," in which a disgruntled fast-food customer whips out an Uzi and starts shooting.

Theater managers may be powerless, but owners aren't. The big chains have 800 numbers that the local branch can provide. Trailers aren't often pulled because of public outcry, but it does happen occasionally, says a spokesman for Cineplex Odeon, which owns 350 theaters.

If all else fails, parents will find a ready ear in Jack Valenti, president of the Motion Picture Association of America. "I sympathize with parents who are upset by trailers," says Valenti. "I felt that way when my children were under 16." He welcomes letters about the problem, which can be sent to him at the Motion Picture Association of America, 1600 I Street, N.W., Washington, DC 20006. Valenti says that well-taken complaints will make him "more cognizant when reviewing new trailers." But a letter generally bemoaning, say, violent trailers isn't enough. Valenti needs details -- the kind of violence, the movie being previewed and the film that followed. The upshot is that concerned parents have one more worry: mastering the art of taking notes in a darkened movie house. A typical child sees over 350 TV commercials a week. The average prime-time death toll: two murders a night. Blood can trickle, but not stream, in a G-rated preview for an R film.

`R' is for rental

TAPE TALES

"Video retailers are careful to ensure that children do not have access to R, NC-17 or unrated products that contain patently adult depictions of sex or violence."

Movie Industry Testimony

Maybe. Maybe not. To test the Motion Picture Association of America's claim, made at a congressional hearing on media violence last December, U.S. News sent a dozen kids ages 11 to 14 to video stores around the country to rent an R-rated film heavy on sex, violence or both. Ten succeeded.

Easy pickings. Four children rented "Basic Instinct," known for raw sex and ice-pick murders. (In one case, a customer asked the 11-year-old boy if he really wanted the film; the store clerk was silent.) Three checked out "Universal Soldier," two "Cape Fear" and one "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre." Two youngsters were told they couldn't rent "Basic Instinct" without a parent on the premises.

Follow-up calls exposed a mishmash of rules. Some policies assume a child with a parent's membership card has carte blanche to rent any R-rated film in the store. Some clerks say no -- but back off if the kid makes a fuss. Blockbuster Video's 2,000 U.S. outlets do have a strict policy: On the membership form, parents list the names of family members authorized to rent films and check a box indicating if children should or should not be permitted to check out R tapes. But the policy isn't fail-safe. Three of the "Basic Instinct" rentals took place at Blockbuster stores, though the parents had not authorized R rentals. Gerry Weber, a senior vice president at Blockbuster, urges parents to call company headquarters at (800) 800-6767 to report problems. A store manager receives a written reprimand for violating policy. Repeat incidents lead to demotion or termination for the errant employee or the manager.

Big Daddy? Truth is, it's too much to expect video stores to play parent. The language of the ratings game is only a guideline for theater owners and video stores, not the law. Even if a video store has rules, employees don't always pay attention. And there's a flip side. "Plenty of parents get upset when their kids aren't allowed to rent R movies," says Rick Karpel, a spokesman for the Video Software Dealers Association. The best strategy for parents who want to restrict their children's rentals: Find a store with a policy they like, and give the owner grief if a clerk slips up.
 

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