Mr. SYNAR. So, you were not a career director at the time.

Mr. DANTE. Well, I had directed a couple of movies, but I would like to say that, if you would like to be the producer from Muskogee, or whatever, Phil and I would be only too happy to write and direct the picture, because it can only be an improvement in many

areas.

I was lucky enough to assist the late John Huston in videotaping a statement that he made around the time that Mr. Turner was colorizing "The Maltese Falcon." And it was shown to legislators in Washington, during which Huston said, "Save the past for the future. Every future needs a past upon which to build itself and define itself. Preserve the way we saw ourselves. The truth is what is at issue here, historical truth. That truth is being cynically distorted for future generations by those to whom truth means nothing."

I wish I could have said that. Now, just before I conclude, actually Mr. Silverstein, who is in a better position to discuss the collective bargaining issue has a little something to say.

Mr. SILVERSTEIN. Mr. Chairman, Mr. Nolan, I believe this morning made a statement regarding the progress of labor negotiations in the area of moral rights. And I have asked permission to address you to set the record straight; that as of the moment, there are no negotiations taking place on the issue of moral rights with the Producers Association.

There are negotiations on other matters. They have asked the Directors Guild to talk with them about moral rights and we have said, "Of course, we will talk with you. We will talk with anybody. We will talk with committees of Congress. We will talk with educational groups." We will talk with the Producers Association in the hope of educating them and illuminating the issues and the anguish and destruction that lies behind it. And perhaps something useful may come out of this. We do not know.

But the request has been to hold these conversations in what is called the continuing creative rights committee. That is a committee, a joint committee which meets by contract, twice a year to discuss creative rights issues, that is issues involving the rights of directors during the making of the film and prior to its release, that is prior to the point at which we say the moral rights should be triggered.

This continuing dialog on these issues is intended to prevent the pot from boiling over and reaching a point of great emotion at the time of formal negotiations. The request has been to discuss these moral rights in this continuing committee after the current negotiations are over. So, I do not know, I think Mr. Nolan may have been misinformed or is uninformed on the issue.

Mr. KASTENMEIER. And could you tell us when that might be? Can you speculate as to when they-

Mr. SILVERSTEIN. No, I cannot say anything about that at the moment, sir. I can only say that the so-called continuing creative rights committee meets supposedly twice a year and is informal in nature, would not consist-should there be a disagreement of some kind about something, it is not a negotiating panel. It is an exchange of information.

It is, in effect, say, "What is troubling you this week?" "Oh, what is troubling us is this." "Oh, I see, OK. Well, if we want to do something about it, we will." And then perhaps something productive could come out of that, but at the moment, there are no negotiations on moral rights taking place.

Mr. KASTENMEIER. Thank you. Mr. Robinson.

STATEMENT OF PHIL ALDEN ROBINSON, SCREENWRITER, ON BEHALF OF THE WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA

Mr. ROBINSON. Thank you, Mr. Chairman. First of all, sir, I have some good news for you. I will be your first 5 minute speaker of the day at the conclusion of which I would like, with your permission, to take a minute to comment very briefly on some things that were said this morning that I found mindboggling, but we will get to those later.

Like Joe, I am a director, but first and foremost, I am a screenwriter. Before they let you become a screenwriter in Hollywood, you first have to demonstrate a certain amount of ability and a profound willingness to undergo humiliation and abuse. It is analogous, I am told, to being a member of the minority party in a legislature, but I do not know if that is true.

Mr. SYNAR. That is fine, you got three majority people. We do not know.

Mr. ROBINSON. OK, minority counsel then. Nobody knows better than we do what it is like to have our work changed beyond recognition. Everybody changes screenplays. It is the national sport of Hollywood. Why then do screenwriters complain when a copyright owner changes a finished film?

The reason is that we draw a distinction between the process and the product of that process. The process, film making is collaborative. We accept that. Nobody knows that better than we do. But the product of that process, the movie, deserves more. When it is finished, it should stay finished.

And I would like to just take a minute to tell you about a screenwriter's view of the process to help you, perhaps, better understand our very strong feelings about the product. When we begin to write a motion picture, life, as we know it, stops. We work pretty much around the clock for weeks and weeks, month after month, draft after draft.

And when we are finally completely done, we rewrite for weeks and weeks, and months and months. After about 10 or 12 drafts, we put a title page on it that has the date and it says, "First draft." We think it is pretty good. We show it to a friend who tells us it stinks. We know he is right, so we go back and we do about six or eight more drafts. We put a new title page on it, new date. It still says, "First draft."

After a few more of those, we finally get up the nerve to turn one in to the studio. Now, we get to enjoy the helpful suggestions of studio executives who may or may not have any idea what we are trying to do. So, we do five or six more drafts to try to incorporate changes that they have suggested.

We slap a new title page on that says, "Second draft." We are moving up now. We are really progressing. Now, the suggestions

come, not just from studio executives, but from their assistants, their secretaries, their friends, their mothers, their friends' mothers, their children. Actually, the children give very good notes, I have found.

And after a long time, if we are really, really lucky, and they want to make a film, we then get suggestions and changes from a director, who may have a completely different vision of what the movie is going to be, present company excepted, of course, from actors who feel that their characters would not say this or would not do that.

We find that scenes we labored over until they were just right, cannot be filmed or they are changed completely during production or they are cut out entirely during editing. And we endure all this for one reason. It is not the money, and God knows it is certainly not the glamour. It is for that slim wisp of a hope that at the end of all the pain and angst and politicking and tap dancing and accommodating and changes and 7-day weeks and 16-hour days and sleepless nights, that at the end of all that, a movie gets made, a movie that somehow miraculously, after all this, reflects that original vision that you had long ago, sitting by yourself with a blank piece of paper.

And maybe all over America, all over the world, people will sit in dark rooms and watch something that once existed only in your imagination. And they will be moved or entertained or enlightened or somehow touched by it. And this movie that you imagined that is the product of so many people working so hard for so long, this movie that against all odds, somehow turned out pretty good, this movie that bears your name, will outlive you.

You will have succeeded in leaving something behind with the power to reach people, something that says, "I was here and I tried, and this is what I did when I was here.'

Mr. Chairman, to accomplish that is an extraordinarily moving thing. To have even a chance of accomplishing that is the prime reason we create. But to go through all that and then to have somebody who did not put any of his sweat and tears and passion, much less a big chunk of his life into it, turn around and say, "Hey, pal, I own this and I think it would be better if we painted it green or cut off the ending or put in some rock music, or slapped in some nudity or lopped off the beginning," for someone to do that is the ultimate degradation, discouragement, insult, crime.

It is a moral crime, not just against the creators, but against the people for whom that work was intended because they will not get to see it the way it was meant to be seen. So, instead of being moved by an artist who put part of his life into this, they will be ripped off by a merchant who gave it maybe 5 minutes of thought. Sir, artists are perhaps more aware than most how very fortunate we are to live in a country that recognizes and guarantees freedom of expression. But we are also perhaps slightly more aware than most of this ultimate truth, that freedom of expression is valueless if the product of that expression can be changed without the permission of the author. And we request your help in defending that expression. Thank you.

[The prepared statement of Mr. Robinson follows:]

PREPARED STATEMENT OF PHIL ALDEN ROBINSON, SCREENWRITER, ON BEHALF OF THE WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA

It has been suggested that it's hypocritical for a screenwriter to complain about a copyright owner changing a finished movie. After all, our screenplays get changed all the time by directors, actors, producers, friends of the grip, and second cousins of the wardrobe assistant. We are witnesses, even participants in this. So how can we complain that someone colorizes a film or chops it up? The reason is that we draw a distinction between the process and the product of that process. The process filmmaking is collaborative. We know that better than anyone. But the product the movie - should be inviolable.

When we begin to write a motion picture, life stops. We write for months and months, draft after draft, ant then when we're finally done we re-write for months and months; changing, questioning, doubting, discovering, experimenting, honing, throwing things out and putting them back. After about 10 or 12 drafts, we put a title page on it that says First Draft. We think it's pretty good. We show it to a friend who tells us it stinks. We know he's right. So we do 6 or 8 more drafts and put a new title page on it. It still says First Draft. After a few more of those we finally get up the nerve to turn one in to the studio. They read it. Pretty soon, we get to enjoy the helpful suggestions of studio executives who may or may not have a clue what we're trying to do so we do 5 or 6 more drafts, slap on a title page that says "Second Draft" and turn it in. Now the suggestions come not just from studio executives, but from their assistants, their friends, their mothers, their friends' mothers, and their children. Actually, the children give pretty good notes.

After a very long time, if we're really, really lucky, we then get notes from a director who may have a completely different vision of the movie ... from actors who may feel their character wouldn't say this or do that. . . we find that scenes we labored over for months cannot be filmed, or are completely changed during production, or are cut out entirely during editing... and yet we endure all this. We endure it for one reason it's not the money, and it's certainly not the glamor: it's for that slim wisp of a hope that at the end of all the pain and angst and self-doubt and pride-swallowing and politicking and fighting and accommodating and tap-dancing and seven day weeks and 14 hour days and sleepless nights that at the end of all after years of all that - a MOVIE is made; a movie that somehow miraculously reflects that original vision you had long, long ago sitting by yourself with the blank piece of paper. And maybe all over America and all over the world people will sit in dark rooms and watch something that once existed only in your head. And they'll be moved, or entertained, or enlightened, or touched and a part of it will stay with them and become a piece of their memories, a piece of their life. And this movie that you imagined, and that is the product of so many people working so hard for so long, this movie that against

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all odds turned out pretty good, this movie that bears your name - will outlive you. You will have succeeded in leaving something behind with the power to touch people. Something that says I was here. And I tried. And this is what I did when I was here.

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we

Mr. Chairman, to accomplish that is an extraordinary thing. have even a chance of accomplishing that is the prime reason create. But to go through all that and then to know that someday, somewhere, someone who did not invest his sweat and dreams and a big chunk of his life in this movie can say "Hey Pal, I own this and I think it'd be better if we paint it green or cut off the beginning or put some rock music in there or cut in some nudity or put on a new ending" to know that that can happen is the ultimate insult, degradation, discouragement, crime. It is a moral crime. Not just a crime against the creators, but also against the people for whom the work was made. For they will not see the work as it was intended to be seen by the people who made it. And instead of being moved by an artist who gave part of his life to this they will be ripped-off by a merchant who thought about it for all of five minutes.

Mr. Chairman, artists are perhaps more aware than most how very fortunate we are to live in a country that recognizes and guarantees freedom of expression. We are also, perhaps, slightly more aware than most of this ultimate truth: that freedom of expression that most basic and important of freedoms - is worthless if the product of that expression can be changed without the consent or participation of the author.

We ask your help in protecting that freedom.

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