There is a well-known Hollywood legend—some deem it fact—that shortly before his death in 1985, Orson Welles asked his friend, indie director Henry Jaglom, to “keep Ted Turner and his goddamned Crayolas away from my movie [Citizen Kane].” Well, even if Welles’ airtight contract with RKO hadn’t stipulated that only Welles himself could make changes to his film, the late, great auteur can rest easy: Turner won’t be colorizing his masterpiece. Thanks to the National Film Preservation Board, Citizen Kane has been preserved for posterity, in pristine black and white.

Since 1989, in an effort to keep important motion pictures extant, the National Film Preservation Board—an independent, nonprofit arm of the Library of Congress—has designated 25 films each year as worthy of landmark status. These choices are then earmarked for preservation and made more easily available to both cinephiles and casual viewers bored with the prosaic fare at the local multiplex.

There are two criteria: Designees must be at least 10 years old, and “culturally, historically or aesthetically significant.” Certainly the 300 selections made during the past 12 years reflect the diversity of American moviemaking. (Almost all the titles are either English-language films and/or American made.) They run the gamut from silent pics (Sherlock, Jr. and City Lights) to more contemporary fare (Annie Hall and Do the Right Thing); from fantasy (The Wizard of Oz) to realism (Marty); works by Hollywood big shots (Raiders of the Lost Ark) to independent efforts (Killer of Sheep and A Woman Under the Influence) to documentaries (Harlan County, USA); newsreels, advertising films and home movies (such as the Zapruder footage of the Kennedy assassination). The eclectic choices also embrace a panoply of genres: westerns (High Noon); film noir (Double Indemnity); biblical epics (The Ten Commandments); musicals (Gigi); screwball comedies (Adam’s Rib); biopics (Lawrence of Arabia); and sci-fi (Blade Runner).

Sure, a number of selections, such as Star Wars, Casablanca and It’s a Wonderful Life are popular, even classic films. However, success at the box office does not ensure a film will win inclusion. Indeed, among the designees are some arcane choices. Ever heard of Gertie the Dinosaur, Duck Amuck or Lambchops? (No, not all the little known titles mention animals.) The Film Board also doesn’t shy away from controversial picks. Consider D. W. Griffith’s 1914 opus The Birth of a Nation. While hailed for its innovative storytelling methods, this Civil War saga is also reviled for its overt racism, especially since it’s believed to have led to the resurrection of the then-dormant Ku Klux Klan when first released. Nevertheless, Birth made the cut in the Film Board’s fourth year. And think about the Hitchcock titles that have been selected. While Vertigo made the first list, the next Hitchcock picture chosen wasn’t a blockbuster like Psycho or a venerated Oscar winner à la Rebecca; rather, it was the lesser-known Shadow of a Doubt, which was named in the Registry’s junior year, 1991. Did it win early approval because it was Hitchcock’s avowed favorite among his own films? Maybe it was because it showcases so many of the director’s signature themes and visuals. Perhaps its literary pedigree—the script was co-written by Our Town playwright Thornton Wilder—was a deciding factor.

Such distinctive picks are possible given the diversity of the Film Board’s advisory committee. The Board’s 40 members and alternates hail from a variety of backgrounds and occupations, including moviemakers, critics, theater owners, composers, actors, archivists and academicians.

And just as some of the designated films are famous while others are obscure, so the Board’s advisory body boasts celebrities—including Alfre Woodard, Leonard Maltin and Haskell Wexler—as well as lesser-known individuals.

The landmark designation is more than a popularity contest, though. Film is a highly fragile commodity. According to various Film Board-related web sites, including http://lcweb.loc.gov/film and www.film preservation.org, less than 20 percent of the feature films made during the 1920s have survived intact, and only about half of the features made before 1950 are still viable. Also exacerbating the preservation process is the fact that color films made during the past 40 years are fading and need to be restored, which is a painstaking and expensive undertaking. As Martin Scorsese, member of the institution’s Board of Directors, has declared, “Film is history. With every foot of film that is lost, we lose a link to our culture, to the world around us, to each other and to ourselves.” Grant money and private contributions, while in limited supply, are spent on preserving and restoring those films awarded landmark status, so a work that makes it onto the Registry is no longer in danger of disappearing.

One intriguing aspect of the National Film Board is that both luminaries and peons—members of the public like you and me—can nominate films for consideration. Individuals can designate up to 50 titles annually. Steve Leggett, the Film Board’s staff coordinator, estimates that there are 900 to 1,600 titles nominated each year. While it’s the Librarian of Congress, James Billington, who makes the final judgment call, Leggett claims that Billington consults with the Registry’s Advisory Board and considers the public’s choices before coming up with the 25 annual inductees.

This is a novel approach. At Anthology Film Archives in New York, which for the past 31 years has specialized in preserving and showcasing independent and avant-garde films, only two people decide which films to rescue. The major decision-making criteria are, of course, the age and rarity of a given film, but according to General Director Robert Haller, if a set of screenings with a particular theme is in the works, the subject matter may be a deciding factor. Or if several members of the public ballyhoo a particular motion picture, Anthology’s Powers That Be will pay heed.

For more than three decades, the American Film Institute has also been involved in the preservation and advancement of films. In the past few years, the LA-based AFI has come up with a series of “best of” lists, from the 100 Greatest Films, promoted in print and primetime television, as well as their 100 Greatest Stars, 100 Best Comedies, and their latest round-up, the Top 100 Thrills. These lists not only provoke arguments at the water cooler, but they also get the public to understand the need for film preservation, and maybe even send in some bucks to support it. Alas, according to Ken Wlaschin, AFI’s Director of Creative Affairs, only selected individuals in the film biz have a say as to what’s preserved and which films will be saluted in the various “best of” lists.

Thus, the National Film Registry is the one venue where we can all have a say. Which of us isn’t interested in promoting a particular film? If your choice meets the Registry’s criteria, the first thing to do is to check the National Film Preservation Board’s list of picks over the past 12 years. You can find an online directory of honorees, organized both alphabetically and by induction year, at various web sites, including http://lcweb.loc.gov/film/titles.html. If your pick has not already been included, the next step is to send it in. Don’t just proffer a title, though; bolster your candidate’s chances by furnishing persuasive arguments vis à vis its intrinsic artistic, historical or cultural significance. I, for one, think it’s an egregious oversight that All the President’s Men has not yet been inducted. Both a critical and commercial success, it’s also a cogent chronicle of the Watergate scandal that manages to be riveting, despite the fact that everyone knows the outcome. And while plenty of films mirror societal goings-on, this film may have also affected the course of history.

The pre-presidential Ronald Reagan opined that releasing the film in the summer of 1976, just months before the presidential election, may well have cost Gerald Ford the presidency, as it reminded the public that one of his first acts was to pardon Richard Nixon. MM

Elana Starr is a professor of film at Villanova University and Director of Publicity for the Villanova Cultural Film Series.

Nomination(s) can be mailed to: National Film Registry, Library of Congress, MBRS Div., Washington, D.C. 20540, Attn: Steve Leggett. E-mail: sleg@loc.gov.