The “invisible art” of film distribution wields significant power when it comes to who and what we see in cinemas. And some believe that distributors are still reluctant when it comes to promoting black stars in leading roles in an industry lagging far behind television and theatre — with black women faring worst.

“We were turned down by every British distributor there is apart from the ICA,” says Tony Fabian, the outspoken director of Skin, a film based on the true story of a black child born to white parents in apartheid South Africa, starring Sophie Okonedo. Despite positive reception on the international festival circuit and a number of audience awards, the film nearly missed showing in the UK until the ICA decided to release it this month. Fabian believes that industry bias means that films with black leads face a harder time getting backers.

“It’s the distributors’ perception that there’s no audience, that it’s the audience’s racism,” he says. “It’s still a pervasive attitude. Distributors say that’s what the stats say. I was shocked. We’ve won awards and we’re still sitting here trying to persuade people.” One former film producer says that demand for “authenticity” in films was leading to roles being stereotyped, especially in genres such as gritty urban drama. Fabian blames a “lack of vision and confidence” for failing to create roles that didn’t “fit comfortable stereotypes of black culture”.

It isn’t easy being a distributor. Profits from cinema showings alone can be elusive — the average cinemagoer visits only 2.7 times a year — and predicting how a film will perform is risky. According to the Film Distributors Association (FDA), a quarter of all British cinema tickets are sold in London, a multicultural city where ethnic minority groups make up more than 30 per cent (compared with 13 per cent in England as a whole), according to 2006 projections from the National Office of Statistics. In an increasingly mixed society keen to break down barriers, shouldn’t there be more enthusiasm for diversity in film?

“You’ve got to look at the actor, what they’ve done and their bankability,” says a spokesman for Icon, a mainstream distributor. “It’s not about colour but quality of film for UK audiences. It’s just a shame there are not enough black stars; it would be great to see more. We don’t shy away from that. But we don’t make the films. The exhibitors simply want a product that’s going to sell. US imports like Will Smith and Denzel Washington — we don’t really have an equivalent. The closest we have is Noel Clarke with Kidulthood and Adulthood, which have done extremely well. But perhaps they are the exception.”

Marcia Williams, a former barrister-turned-head of diversity for the UK Film Council, says that all groups in the industry are guilty of what she terms “the cut-throat defence”: recognising that there is a problem but passing the blame elsewhere. “The script writers say ‘we write the characters and then we hope the casting director will engage’. Then the casting director says ‘it’s up to the director’,” she says. She adds that casting directors for Dirty Pretty Things, Stephen Frears’s 2002 film about the seedy underworld of illegal immigrants, were approached to change the main character (played by Chiwetel Ejiofor, now one of the most bankable black actors in the UK) from Nigerian to Eastern European.

“All along the line we’re still having these tussles with the financiers,” Williams says. “There’s a climate that black characters and black talent won’t sell and ‘as financiers we’re constrained’. Distributors aren’t completely undiverse; there are still problems in the wider marketplace, people feeling like it’s harder to sell black talent.”

While black actors such as Ejiofor, Nikki Amuka-Bird, Paterson Joseph, Idris Elba and Adrian Lester continue to gain prominence and critical acclaim in television and theatre, some, such as Elba, have complained publicly about having to move to the US to find more diverse and leading roles. The industry is also accused of failing to publicise black actors, creating a vicious circle in which, less well-known to audiences, they become viewed as a harder sell.

“How is it,” Williams asks, “that you have this well- trained, well-regarded talent and yet we struggle to know what they’re doing next? We want to encourage people into roles that develop. [Noel Clarke] gets his Bafta, voted for by the British public. That tells us something.” A 2005 Skillset/Equity performers survey found that although the pool of ethnic-minority film performers was in line with the UK population, they were less successful at securing film work.

There have been moves to develop and encourage cultural diversity in British film. Since 2007 films applying for tax relief have to pass four criteria, including whether a film “reflects British culture in relation to diversity, heritage and creativity”. The UK Film Council’s equality charter, a voluntary manifesto to promote social and cultural diversity, has 21 signatories, including the FDA and the Casting Directors’ Guild of Great Britain.

Williams says she is optimistic that more encouragement and support of black talent across the film-making spectrum, from writers to actors, will bear fruit. The industry, though playing catch-up, is enthusiastic for change, she says. Perhaps audiences are ready, too.

Skin opens at the ICA in London on July 24

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