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This chapter examines the film and music combination in violent motion pictures. Some examples of these films include Cannibal Holocaust, The Beyond and The Cannibal Apocalypse. This chapter describes how these films overlay a barrage of unflinchingly violent imagery with often smooth, mellifluous synthesizer scoring that refuses to comment negatively on the visual track. These films were banned in Great Britain under the 1984 Video Recordings Act and they were called “video nasties”.

This chapter explores why the Video Recordings Act (VRA) looks set to be a permanent feature on the statute book. A draft Video Recordings Bill was notified to the EC on 10 September 2009. The British Video Association urged its members to continue submitting DVDs as normal to the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC). The Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport played the role of ‘intervener’ with the result that the Obscene Publications Act is abolished. ‘Harm’ is defined in the context of media legislation. It is argued in this chapter that the VRA should simply be abolished hook, line and sinker. As far as film and video censorship in contemporary Britain is concerned, the message from the political class continues to ring out loud and clear: there is no alternative.

Arthur Hand had an orchestra of his own which was incorporated into Kirkeby's California Ramblers and which he would co-lead with Ed Kirkeby. In April 1922, Kirkeby arranged for the first of countless record dates for almost any label. The band did not have a bass player and Adrian Rollini decided to fill the gap and quickly learned to play the bass saxophone. In just a few months, he developed a new style of playing, both for the bass line and for solo work. His sound would identify the California Ramblers for years to come. The band was fully employed from its start and one of their engagements was as a replacement for Paul Whiteman's band at the Palais Royal. However, Kirkeby and Hand preferred to have their own place where their band would perform regularly. They found it North of the City of New York and called it the California Ramblers Inn.

The most obvious reason why the Video Recordings Bill is undesirable is that the so-called ‘video nasties’ have already been deemed illegal under the Obscene Publications Act (OPA) and disappeared. In its statutory role, the British Board of Film Censors (BBFC) will become a large quango accountable to no one but the Secretary of State. It is impossible not to see the Bill as part and parcel of a multi-fronted attack on civil liberties in Britain. Sir Bernard Braine has continuously tried to hijack the Bill on its passage through the Committee Stage. The chapter then deals with some of the wider knock-on effects of the Video Recordings Bill, such as its effects on film censorship and on television. It is mentioned that the Video Recordings Bill cannot be divorced from the wider ideological climate.

This chapter highlights that Juice was later separated for particular praise for its moral stance by the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC). It also explores the works on how the Board operated under the improved Video Recordings Act. The role of the press in the censorship process looms large in the Annual Report. The BBFC's pusillanimity in the face of newspaper campaigns against certain films, or certain kinds of films, is all the more puzzling since its report to Michael Howard actually contains some very useful snapshots of real public opinion properly gathered, and not populist ranting posing in the press as ‘public opinion’. Panics which the BBFC itself openly admits are ill-founded but which it treats as a symptom of ‘public opinion’ rather than dismissing them with the contempt such populist antics deserve.

This chapter presents an interview with Robin Duval. One of the difficulties with the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) throughout a large part of its history was that it left an awfully large space available for newspapers and others who were hostile to the Board to fill in their own interpretations. It is asked whether the Video Recordings Act simply mistake offensiveness for harmfulness. The only way in which to deal with films fairly is to start from first principles in terms of the way things are now. It is suspected that the ‘gentleman's agreement’ has been comprehensively forgotten by the Crown Prosecution Service. The chapter also mentions that the ‘R18’ affair had long been a running sore for the BBFC.

This chapter states that the Video Recordings Act and the ‘extreme pornography’ provisions of the Criminal Justice and Immigration Act 2008 need to be understood as measures that transcend matters of narrow party policy. It then elaborates what kinds of material are still likely to find themselves cut from films, and more particularly DVDs, in contemporary Britain, even in the adults-only ‘18’ and ‘R18’ categories, and, more importantly, explain the reasons behind such acts of censorship. Sexual violence is a theme that has continued to preoccupy the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC), and is one of the most common reasons for cuts at the ‘18’ and ‘R18’ levels. 2009 saw the passing of the Coroners and Justice Act, sections 62 to 68 of which criminalise possession of what is termed a ‘prohibited image of a child’.

The first part of this book investigates the origins of the Video Recordings Act 1984 (VRA), and situates these firmly in the moral panic about ‘video nasties’ which started in 1981. The second part looks at how the Act was interpreted in the second part of the decade, and at some of its consequences for the video industry. The next part examines how the British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) interpreted the amended Act. The last part concentrates on isolating the kinds of material which the BBFC refuses to pass today even in the adults-only ‘18’ and ‘R18’ categories. It is noted that VRA helped cut and ban a remarkable number of videos. The BBFC gradually became liberal, but it is still extremely strict by continental European standards. The press played a key role in the censorship process. New Labour, when in power, was instinctively interventionist and dirigiste in social matters.

The horror film has always had precious few friends among the British critical fraternity, and so the unwillingness of most critics even to look at so-called ‘video nasties’ is hardly surprising. The two most serious misconceptions about ‘video nasties’ have nothing to do with aesthetic quality. They represent some kind of homogeneous category or self-contained genre. The second misconception has to do with seeing ‘video nasties’ as something ‘new’ or ‘different’. The New Censoriousness has tumbled to a fictional mode which is capable of carrying a hefty subversive charge. When one bears in mind that the Video Recordings Act covers all videos and not simply horror films, these stipulations show censorship to be going so far beyond the usual concern with the content of individual scenes.

This chapter discusses an interview with James Ferman. John Trevelyan has close relations with many British film-makers, frequently advising them on censorship matters before and even during production. Ferman puts the public first, and is more concerned with basically moral questions than was Trevelyan. The Video Recordings Act requires that virtually all videos currently on the market be classified within the next three years. Despite the fact that there have been no prosecutions of British Board of Film Classification (BBFC) certificated films for many years, Ferman is keen to discount suggestions of a ‘gentleman's agreement’ between the Board and the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP). The DPP has to consider who is likely to view videos taken into the home. Ferman is equally determined to reject the suggestion that the ‘video nasties’ affair (and the Video Recordings Act) was greatly facilitated by a new crusading spirit in the DPP's office.

This chapter addresses the possible link between the video industry's improved image and its remarkable success in Britain. According to Norman Abbott of the British Videogram Association (BVA) and Derek Mann of the Video Trade Association, one problem with the Video Recordings Act is that it is not being enforced strictly enough, although they agree that things have improved since trading standards officers were granted powers of enforcement in 1988. In its desire to improve its public image, the industry has planned its own systems of self-censorship in the forms of the Video Packaging and Video Advertising Review Committees. It might be asked whether the Video Recordings Act and the various examples of self-regulation have acted as any form of economic brake on the industry. The industry has decided that its future prosperity depends on establishing and maintaining a salubrious image.

This chapter demonstrates James Ferman at his most skilful, working closely with politicians in order to avoid the fall-out from the James Bulger case stampeding Parliament into passing an utterly unworkable amendment to the Video Recordings Act. It describes the link between Child's Play 3 and the Bulger murder trial. The subsequent difficulty of renting or buying this tape soon gave rise to the myth that it had been banned. The new penalties for impinging the Video Recordings Act were agreed on 14 June 1994. ‘Harm’ is understood in such a broad way as inevitably to involve the censors in what are essentially moral judgements. The chapter then addresses the topic of the consequences for the Video Recordings Act of the Bulger, Capper and Read murders. Board's annual report for 1997–8 exhibits that in 1997 there were cuts in forty-four works in order to remove or decrease scenes of sexual violence.

Anne Sexton delivered her last public reading at Goucher College, Baltimore, MD, on October 1, 1974, three days before she took her own life. The high quality, eighty-minute long performance was recorded, but remained unknown until 2005. “Reading, Voice, and Performance” brings the last reading into conversation with some of the better known biographical aspects of Sexton’s last months and days—already familiar to readers of her obituaries and Diane Wood Middlebrook’s biography—as well as with other recordings (Caedmon (1974); Voice of the Poet (2000), etc.) and the work of scholars Derek Furr, Jo Gill, Christopher Grobe and J. D. McClatchy who have written on the nature of Sexton’s self-presentation and public persona(e).

This chapter discusses Beyer's music in the late 1930s. During this period, Beyer's life seemed to balance precariously between a private struggle with poverty and being on the brink of public recognition. Beyer received some support from WPA projects around this time. On May 19, 1937, Beyer had her second Composers' Forum-Laboratory event, shared with composer Walter Helfer. She continued to compose prolifically; in 1937 alone she wrote eight works, including two chamber pieces, three pieces for choir, and three works for orchestra. Around 1938, Beyer was included in a small group that would comprise a “Promotion Committee” for the New Music Quarterly Recordings (NMQR), and she communicated regularly about the New Music recordings project with Harrison Kerr, Otto Luening, and Gerald Strang, who had taken over the direction of New Music Society events.

The performance history of Dido and Aeneas from 1950 can be divided into three distinct periods. The first (1951–80) concentrated on the establishment of an accurate score based on the earliest sources and was defined by two major performances in London in 1951. The second (1980–95), coincident with the growth of the early music movement, focused on a transition to historical instruments, performance practices, and vocal techniques and to smaller forces; it is represented by an abundance of audio recordings. The third period (1995–2016) is defined by scholarly and theatrical interpretations of Dido and Aeneas that consider issues of gender, race, sexuality, and colonialism. An array of recordings, videos, and scholarly writings demarcate this postmodern period of interpretation. Each of these periods is discussed in turn.

This chapter discusses some of the problems encountered by Henry Cowell in the 1930s, not least of which were related to the Pan American Association of Composers (PAAC). By early 1933 the PAAC had substantial accomplishments, including complete orchestral concerts of American music in Berlin, Vienna, Prague, Boston, and New York. Recordings and a rental library linked to the New Music Society were also planned. All of this was possible because of Henry's efforts, aided by Ruth Crawford, Wallingford Riegger, Adolph Weiss, and Charles Ives's financing. However, the PAAC faced a litany of problems including finances, friction with the musicians' union, and the issue of fair distribution of performances among PAAC composers. The International Exchange Concerts's decision to unite with the International Society for Contemporary Music also had a disastrous result for Henry, who gradually abandoned the PAAC to Edgard Varèse and Carlos Salzedo and kept New Music Quarterly Recordings under his command until he turned it over to Otto Luening in 1936. After a lackluster New Music Society concert in San Francisco in December 1935, Henry suggested that Gerald Strang organize concerts in Los Angeles.