The Hidden Consumerism of Movie Filtering Services

When she was nineteen, actress Sarah Polley did a photo shoot for a film in which she played an “awkward” and “bumbling” girl. The producers had her pose seductively in a “little black dress, showing a lot of cleavage”—something her character in the film would never do. Nevertheless, she says, “[That] was how they were going to sell the movie.”

Early in his career, screenwriter Aaron Sorkin was instructed to add some steamy sex to the film Malice, starring Alec Baldwin and Nicole Kidman. Director Harold Becker told Sorkin how to write the scene: “Look, it’s easy, just go back to your hotel and write what you’d like to see Nicole Kidman do.”

While waiting to get dressed for the Rolling Stone cover shoot for her movie Grindhouse, actress Rose McGowan noticed something amiss about the wardrobe rack: “I was like, where are the clothes?” As it turns out, she and co-star Rosario Dawson were to pose “naked save for prom queen-like sashes of bullets across their chests.”

The above three examples, among countless others, illustrate Hollywood’s long-standing tradition of objectifying female characters. As Christian film critic Brett McCracken writes, “Hollywood has always been one of the chief purveyors of sex as commodity and sexualized bodies as cheap goods for widespread consumption.” He continues: “The very idea of sexual acts and sexualized bodies on a screen, for the gaze of the masses, presents sex in consumer terms—inviting third-party observers into a sexual intimacy that doesn’t belong to them but which feels like their prerogative to consume.”

Enter VidAngel Entertainment. The premier filtering service for visual stories, VidAngel commodifies a process called bowdlerization, i.e., giving viewers the chance to avoid sections of a film or show they might find offensive. As such, the filtering service allows the elimination of whatever sights and sounds an individual or family might consider a stumbling block to their spiritual or emotional wellbeing.

For Christians, services like VidAngel scratch a strongly felt itch: the desire to glorify God with our entertainment choices. This is a legitimate and worthy desire. It represents an inclination to put the first and greatest commandment—a love for God—into practice. But there’s an inherent problem with this business model: it can foster within our hearts a consumerist, self-centered posture toward entertainment.

This consumerism, however, may not be readily apparent. After all, when using VidAngel to skip exploitative sex scenes, the whole purpose is to avoid treating people as products. We wish to distance ourselves from the practice of objectifying humans—who have been made in God’s image—for the audience’s viewing pleasure.

Nevertheless, a sampling of VidAngel’s marketing makes its consumerist posture more evident:

• “Now watch the top shows, worry-free.”
• “Watch more stuff without the bad stuff.”
• “Watch some of the most popular movies and tv series without the stuff that you don’t like.”
• “Watch more. Worry less.”

The common denominator in these slogans is the idea that, thanks to VidAngel, we now have the right and the power to watch even more than we did before. The invitation is to keep up with what everyone else is doing, to not miss out on what everyone else is enjoying. We should, after all, be able to watch however the bleep we want.

To some, that may not seem like a problem. A service which enables us to keep our hearts pure is something we should want to consume. But let’s follow the rainbow all the way to the pot of trash. A consumerist mindset evaluates entertainment only from the standpoint of how it will affect us. As such, it fails to acknowledge that (A) the filming of hypersexualized content is often detrimental to actors as well and (B) the filtering of such media still perpetuates the very objectification we are ideologically opposed to.

As a culture, we’ve used the nomenclature of “simulated sex” to minimize the myriad of ways in which the entertainment industry violates actors’ privacy, dignity, and sexuality. I’ve spent nearly a decade researching and writing about actor exploitation in our pornified society. The scope and breadth of actor testimonials I’ve uncovered is sobering and heartbreaking.

The harsh reality is that scenes of sexual activity are still problematic even when actors don’t experience blatant coercion. Testimonies from A-listers like Jennifer Lawrence and Margot Robbie demonstrate how emotional and moral violations can take place even without the influence of lecherous studio executives. And these violations can lead to the searing of one’s conscience (as illustrated in both Lawrence’s and Robbie’s careers).

VidAngel does nothing to address this reality. In fact, it could even exacerbate the problem.

Perhaps an illustration is in order. There are some who are convicted about purchasing products that are manufactured overseas under inhumane working conditions. Because they wish to distance themselves from such unethical business practices, these individuals determine to do business only with companies who have proven to abide by fair trade restrictions. Functionally speaking, this means one’s options are both limited and more expensive.

Now, consider a man who decides to forge his own path to implement fair trade practices. Instead of limiting his options, he just promises that no matter where he makes his purchases, he will tell himself everything in his home is made in America, and no humans were harmed in the making of any of his acquired goods. With this Jedi mind trick in place, he can now leave his shopping habits unchanged. If anything, he feels an even greater freedom to purchase more overseas products now that he has a clearer conscience.

What would we say to such a person? Would we commend him on his creativity, which allows him peace of mind without actually affecting any meaningful change in his lifestyle? No, we would point out not only the inefficacy but also the hypocrisy of his actions.

Yet that is essentially what filtering services allow us to do. In fact, statistics show this is largely what VidAngel users are doing. According to VidAngel’s own email marketing (to which I am subscribed), some of the company’s most-watched filtered shows in recent history include the extremely sexually explicit Bridgerton and The Witcher (not to mention Game of Thrones in years past). By reducing the skipping of sex scenes to an exact science, VidAngel allows audiences an even greater sense of freedom to spend more time and resources on visual stories they otherwise wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot Valyrian sword.

And now that VidAngel has given them a soft pair of velvet gloves, they are comfortable feeling up these shows (and their actors) with impunity, as if there’s a disconnect between viewer patronage and actor objectification:

It is easy for us to assess how perverse and inhumane it is for studios to coerce their employees to participate in sexually charged situations. But our assessment often fails to take in the entire chain of events. Too many of us have experienced no qualms about financially supporting [or streaming] sexually charged entertainment, fast-forwarding through the inappropriate content, and then washing our hands of any guilt, choosing rather to blame the actress for getting herself into that mess in the first place.

A filtering service allows you to “have the power,” “skip whatever you want,” and have “total control over the content in your home” (to once again quote from VidAngel’s marketing). But this verbiage places all the focus on the audience without any regard for how the actors are treated. In the filming of many sex scenes, the actors do not have the power; the actors are not able to skip the process; and if anyone has “total control” over the situation, it’s the studio—not the actors.

VidAngel provides a loophole to “fair trade” movie watching: it allows audiences to be a party to the commodification of “sexual acts and sexualized bodies” (to quote McCracken) without experiencing any personal collateral. Again, the focus remains myopically inward: the concern lies with whether or not audiences are harmed in the viewing of a film, not with whether or not actors are harmed in the making of a film.

True, we may protest the inclusion of exploitative content even as we patronize a (filtered) exploitative project. But that’s like protesting the inefficiency of our air conditioner while leaving our doors and windows open; we’re complaining about a problem to which we are actively contributing.

A streaming show’s ratings and algorithms aren’t affected by whether or not we filtered the finished product. Hollywood analysts don’t evaluate the data and say, “Oh, one fourth of these streams were by households utilizing VidAngel, which means they have serious issues with what we’re filming, so we shouldn’t use their patronage to determine this show’s success because they were obviously displeased with our output.” No, the entertainment industry evaluates the success of its products by measuring the number of sales and/or streams. In effect, filtered and begrudging patronage is identical to unfiltered and enthusiastic patronage.

We must realize that our actions speak louder than our words: to the studios who practice objectification, to the actors being objectified, and to the God who made each human to be honored as people, not reduced to object status for the entertainment of the masses.

It would behoove us to address a pertinent question: in a post-Weinstein world, hasn’t actor manipulation been reduced, if not eliminated entirely? To be sure, the entertainment industry has experienced a certain level of positive change. Most notably, there’s been a drastic increase of intimacy coordinators (those who choreograph sex scenes to minimize, as much as possible, the inherent discomfort and awkwardness of such scenes). Also, as Ashley Judd has noted, actors now have a sexual harassment hotline number to call, and there are restrictions on when and where auditions can take place.

However, there are additional factors to consider. Last year, Kirsten Schaffer, CEO of the advocacy group Women in Film, noted that the MeToo movement has “lost momentum.” As evidence, consider this: “Seasoned film producers often ask their stars to shoot sex scenes on the first day of filming. That way, an actor can’t change their mind about nudity halfway through a film when recasting would prove expensive.”

If producers rush the filming of sex scenes before actors can “change their mind[s],” it’s a sign of two realities. First, many actors still find the filming of sex scenes both unsettling and undesirable even with intimacy coordinators involved. Second, studios are still more concerned with filming what they want than attending to their hired talent’s wellbeing. As The New York Times’ Lizzie Feidelson points out, “intimacy coordination doesn’t lead to markedly different visual treatments of sex: A director’s vision, and a network’s restrictions [or lack thereof], are still paramount.”

Furthermore, a recent Variety article explains that streaming services, which are “eager to hold on to subscribers in a competitive marketplace,” have persistently “leaned into their TV-MA ratings to feature steamy sex scenes.” In many respects, the sexual acting required of actors is increasing, not decreasing. In other words, there’s a real sense in which the problem is being aggravated rather than mitigated.

The continued success of visual stories with hypersexualized, actor-traumatizing content indicates that there’s still a consumer demand for such entertainment. And as long as consumers patronize it, the entertainment industry will produce it. Supply will meet the demand. After all, as Times reporter Jodi Kantor recently quoted Hollywood executives as saying, “Sexual harassment is just part of… what Hollywood is.”

Another objection may arise at this point: “How much ‘demand’ does just one household communicate to the behemoth that is the entertainment industry? Isn’t my ‘demand’ so insignificant as to be negligible?”

To justly answer this question, we need to consider the seemingly insignificant contributions we make to society in general:

Our tithes alone won’t support a church; our tip after a meal won’t supply a waiter’s full salary; our purchase of a good book won’t singlehandedly make it a bestseller. But if and when we do all these things, as “negligible” as they are, we do so because we are simply trying to be faithful stewards of the opportunities God has given us. A Christian ethic does not judge actions based on how momentous or insignificant they are.

We can take this argument even further, for that is what Scripture does: “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much” (Luke 16:10). God evaluates our stewardship in even the smallest areas, rewarding our faithfulness in little things with the responsibility for greater things.

There is no faithfulness to God with “much” if there wasn’t first a faithfulness to him with “very little.” No one who has made a significant impact in the world for Christ has shirked his or her insignificant responsibilities. We must not despise small (i.e., “negligible”) beginnings.

So what is a disciple of Christ to do about all this? How can we respond to exploitative entertainment in a more redemptive fashion? How can we effectively reject the self-centeredness of consumerism for the others-centeredness of neighborly love?

For our purposes, we will look at three general exhortations, which can help to develop more specific and practical habits.

First, look outward more than inward. We’ve spent so much time focusing on how Hollywood performers can be a stumbling block to us that we’ve missed how our consumerist actions can be a stumbling block to them. As I’ve written elsewhere, “A Good Samaritan will treat others not as obstacles to be ignored or overcome, but as human beings that we are called to love in the same way God has loved us.” Recognize that your viewing habits should be designed to embody both the first and second greatest commandments.

Second, avoid overreacting to the problem by applying legalistic rules to yourself and/or others. It is not inherently sinful to subscribe to a streaming service if you are careful about what you patronize. It is also not inherently sinful to use a filtering service like VidAngel. The focus of this article has been the sexual exploitation of actors, but there are plenty of other reasons to skip or mute various scenes (e.g., violence, profanity). To a degree, these “other reasons” are issues of conscience, which we must leave for individuals and families to decide on their own.

Third, recognize that the farther we move away from generalities (i.e., choosing which streaming service to subscribe to or which filtering service to use), and the nearer we get to specifics (i.e., which movies we choose to purchase or stream), the closer we come to clear definitions of right and wrong. As much as it lies within your power, refuse to be a party to the sexual degradation of actors. When possible, deny or delay the gratification of your desires for entertainment so you may cultivate a posture of self-serving and self-sacrificing love. Denying your gratification may mean skipping a show or film entirely. Delaying your gratification might mean waiting until you can acquire a used DVD so you avoid any directly measurable contribution to actor dehumanization.

In short, recognize that participating in the sexual exploitation of human beings made in the image of God is not a conscience issue; it is a justice issue. That holds true for straight-up porn, but it also holds true for the refined and respectable softcore porn that has seeped into nearly all forms of mainstream entertainment.

In his book Charity and its Fruits, Jonathan Edwards wrote:

Christian love… disposes a person to be public-spirited. A man of a right spirit is not a man of narrow and private views, but is greatly interested and concerned for the good of the community to which he belongs, and particularly of the city or village in which he resides, and for the true welfare of the society of which he is a member. (p. 169)

Loving our neighbor as ourselves involves a “public-spirited” disposition. That is, it refuses a narrow concern with one’s private affairs, and chooses instead to pursue the welfare of one’s community, city, and society. Or, as Philippians 2:4 puts it, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

Actors are not avatars; they are people. Therefore, we must not approach our entertainment from a consumerist perspective, which discounts the plight of public performers while considering our wishes as of primary importance. Rather, we must approach entertainment the way we are called to approach everything: for the glory of God and the good of our neighbor, even those neighbors we pay to entertain us.