The Debate About The Debate:

The movie American Sniper opened in wide release this weekend, and sparked massive debate across the culture. Even though the movie set box office records for a January release, I'm fairly confident that many, if not most of the people lobbing rhetorical bombs at each other hadn't seen the movie. Let me start off by saying that I haven’t seen American Sniper, yet, either. I actually plan to; unfortunately, I’ll probably have to wait a week or two until I’m able to catch up on a few things, but Clint Eastwood’s Oscar-nominated film isn’t really the topic of this post. What I’m actually more interested in at the moment is the discussion (if it’s possible to call yelling, threats, snide remarks, and admonishments a discussion) that it has triggered.

The film based on the U.S. Navy Seal Chris Kyle’s bestselling book with the same title has been championed by conservatives as tribute to our nation’s veterans, and derided by liberals as an outright piece of propaganda, with some in the middle left disgusted at yet another example of the seemingly endless culture war, and wondering why everything in this country eventually becomes a political issue on which one must take sides. In what is becoming a habit for me, I’m left coming to the conclusion that everyone (at least the loudest opinions) is wrong. I realize that staking out such ground can leave one vulnerable and eventually without many allies, but hey, that wouldn’t be anything new to me, so here is my two cents on the debate about the debate.

It should go without saying that I find much of the spittle-flecked rage emanating from the right to be unacceptable. Author Lindy West detailed a few cases in her article in The Guardian, and I’ve seen a few examples stream through my own Twitter feed. The “America—love it or leave it” attitude isn’t anything new, but I will admit to being horrified at some of the bile being tossed at critics of the movie. Do these people really think that film critics should be raped and beheaded for offering their take on a movie? If so, considering the rhetoric employed to justify our ongoing military involvement in the Middle East, the accusations—including from Kyle himself—that our enemies are “savages,” then irony is truly dead, forever.

I have to take issue with the critiques from the left as well. Do they think that anyone but the already converted has the slightest bit of interest in having a decorated war hero labeled as a racist sociopathic serial killer? If politics is the art of persuasion, these folks didn’t simply miss the first day of class, they slept through entire semesters. While the image of Vietnam veterans being spat upon by war protestors as they returned home has been exposed as largely, if not entirely, an urban legend, commentary such as what has been directed at Kyle is likely part of the reason that such myths are so enduring. I’m not saying that service absolves a person from criticism for life, but I have no idea what is to be gained from attacking a serviceman’s record in the way that I have seen some commentators go after Kyle. I realize that Kyle’s public statements, in the form of his book, and elsewhere, are troubling to many, but as critics of our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan should surely know, there are some fights that you simply cannot win. Critiques of the war, the reasoning behind it, and even the plan developed in the Department of Defense (or in the Vice-President’s Office, for that matter) are fair game, but beyond that you’re really not helping matters.

Then there is the vast middle. The folks that are dismayed that yet another topic has been turned into a left/right issue. They say that the film isn’t political. It’s a sentiment echoed by the film’s director and star. If they mean that the film isn’t political in the partisan sense, I’m willing to take them at their word for the moment (like I said, I haven’t seen it yet), but the argument that it isn’t political at all doesn’t seem to hold water for me. Art is inherently political, and a film that is nominated for multiple Academy Awards would certainly qualify as an effort aspiring to art. If a film about a real man, deeply involved in a recent/ongoing conflict, isn’t political, then I don’t know what is. So where does that leave us? Sadly, I think the answer is—one step farther down the road to the eventual realization that this isn’t one country, or even two, but several, which are now actively attempting to tear themselves apart. The ultimate consequences of that struggle are something I shudder to even ponder.

How Fight Club Helps Me Cope With Tragedy:

Even though this new year is young, we have already seen quite a bit of tragedy and loss in the world. When faced with sadness or loss, people often struggle with how to respond. Often I go back and re-watch movies. Partially for the opportunity to engage in a bit of escapism, but also because there are often great lessons to be gleaned from them. (If you think I’m being a bit daft, consider that at their most basic level many religious texts are simply collections of stories.)

 
One of my personal favorites is David Fincher’s 1999 film Fight Club. I think it’s a movie that is quite often misunderstood as some type of endorsement of hyper-masculine violence, and that today its biggest contribution to the cultural landscape might be people repurposing a quote from the film to instruct people on what not to talk about. However, there’s another moment from the movie that I think about from time to time, particularly in times of distress or anxiety. In a pivotal scene, Tyler Durden impresses upon the narrator the importance of “know(ing), not fear(ing) but know(ing) that someday you’re going to die.” Some might look at that as a bit morbid, particularly if you’re watching the movie in the wake of some tragedy, but I think that like the movie, they may be missing the point.
 

I would argue that the movie, and life itself, is largely about overcoming fear. The narrator in the film goes to great lengths to avoid confronting his fears with disastrous results. It’s only after he recognizes those fears and accepts them that he is able to overcome them and move forward. For us it’s quite similar. How much energy and effort do we put into avoiding even considering the existence of the things we are afraid of? And when life intervenes and doesn’t allow those fears to be shoved aside any longer, how often do we respond poorly because we are still reacting from a perspective of fear? Finally, how many things that you have extensive knowledge of--things that you know--are you afraid of? You may have a respect for something’s power. You may use your knowledge to avoid certain circumstances because you know the likely results, but you’re not really afraid of it. Fear and the unknown can’t exist without each other.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not recommending that we all go out and actively embrace death. What I’m saying is that once you know, and accept, that it too is a part of life, you’re better able to respond to it. I’m not saying that I’m perfect in this regard. When my parents got sick, I spent a good deal of time being afraid. I was scared because I had no way of knowing what the world would look or feel like without them. It kept me stuck for a while, spinning my wheels, but knowing and accepting that one day it was going to happen is one of the things that allowed me to move forward. It’s only after we realize that life is finite that we truly start living.

PCU Revisited

     Over the weekend, I decided that I was a little bit burnt out from football, and instead of being productive, I decided to watch one of the two dozen movies that I DVR’d from the holiday weekend premium cable preview. After coming to the conclusion that recent current events necessitated something lite, I stumbled upon a little movie that (judging from its $4.3 million domestic gross) many of you probably haven’t seen, PCU. PCU is a play on words for the movie’s setting, fictional Port Chester University, or as is the movie’s premise-- Politically Correct University. It is part of a genre of films that attempts to package itself as an Animal House for a new generation. 
        

     The plot is centered primarily on the misadventures of Tom Lawrence, a suit jacket-wearing pre-frosh who is touring the campus (played by Chris Young) and James “Droz” Andrews, a senior who is assigned to be his tour guide (played by Jeremy Piven, who you can see crafting the character that he would continue to play in everything he has appeared in since). In short order, Droz explains to Tom that he needs to scrap his preexisting notions of college life, and learn to navigate a mine field of various causes, each backed by a stereotypical group of supporters. We are quickly introduced to a series of parodies of various student activist types, including a Free Nelson Mandela supporter who is unaware that the iconic figure had been released from captivity four years prior, and an environmentalist/vegan named Moonbeam.

                

     Hijinks ensue as Droz and some compatriots, including Tom, decide to incite the various activists by throwing raw meat at them from above before making their escape to their- don’t call it a fraternity- house (frats have been banned on this campus for decades), The Pit. During their retreat, Tom is separated from the group and eventually manages to enrage the entire campus through a series of innocent mistakes; he then spends the next half of the movie running for his life.

                  

     Droz and his friends are presented with the bill for that semester’s shenanigans and must quickly raise $7,000 dollars in order to keep their house. What solution to this problem do they arrive at? Throw a giant keg party and charge at the door, of course. (Is there ever a different answer in these movies?) I won’t spoil the rest of the movie, but I will tell you that there are appearances by David Spade, doing an impression of what Michael J Fox’s Alex P. Keaton might have sounded like if writers weren’t trying to make him likeable and had instead released the id of what Reaganism truly represented, and a post-Rudy/pre-Swingers dreadlock-sporting Jon Favreau.

                 

     I honestly have incredibly mixed feelings about this movie. I won’t sit here and tell you that it’s great, because it isn’t.  However, when taken in context with the pop culture of its era, its politics are fascinating, and has relevance for today’s protest movements. While there are elements that I find incredibly problematic (and that’s putting it charitably, if you’ve seen the film I’d love to discuss this in the comments), there is a message here that liberals and progressives ignore at their own peril.   

               

     I would argue that the movie is aimed at the vast, politically unaffiliated, middle of American culture. The battle lines of the political left and right are clearly defined, with the various protest groups representing the left, while Spade’s blue-blooded cronies representing the right.  While it may be easy to miss, the film actually does take sides somewhat in this conflict, with the left being portrayed as clueless, while the right is irredeemably evil. The center, represented by Droz and his friends, are simply interested in having a good time, and the message of the movie can be interpreted as a plea for the left to move to the center, or to at least stop being a buzzkill.

                 
     I understand that in today’s country, twenty years after this film was made, that to ask for liberals to move to the center is counterproductive. The center has shifted so far to the right, that today’s “liberals” would have been conservatives a generation ago. But honestly, lots of us need to work on our messaging. The center is interested in having a good time and/or taking care of their family, which needs to be remembered. As someone that has been described as a “flaming liberal” (yes, apparently some people still talk that way, and yes, I was surprised as well), I can say that it gets tiresome to have your entire existence put under scrutiny by people who you would like to view as allies. It’s annoying to have every film or sport that you enjoy thrown at you as evidence of your support for oppression. It’s insulting to be called a supporter of rape for daring to enjoy or discuss media that includes attractive women wearing something less than a snowmobile suit. It’s irritating to have any achievement shortchanged as having been born on third base.  I’m saying this as someone that’s on your side, or at least I thought I was. If I’m feeling this way, how do you think people that are not concerned about the struggle for equality, as a part of their identity, are going to respond? Now, if you’re one of those people who not only see patriarchy and post-colonial oppression in every five steps you take, but feel the need to remark upon it at every occasion, you might be saying to yourself, “I don’t care if you’re annoyed, irritated, or insulted.” My response would be that if you’re interested in progress, you really need to care. PCU was released in 1994, two years into the “feel-good Clinton 90’s”.  Six years later Americans voted for the guy that they wanted to have a beer with, and we all remember how that worked out.

Rooting for the Bad Guys

     One of the things that can distinguish a really good film from a mediocre one is villains that are more than just cardboard cutouts. A fully realized antagonist can be the difference between a forgettable flick and one that is a classic. Sometimes the combination of a juicy role and the right actor can result in a performance that upstages the film’s “hero”, or even steals the show outright. Can you imagine A Few Good Men without Jack Nicholson’s Colonel Jessup, Wall Street without Michael Douglas’ Gordon Gekko, Robin Hood (the Costner version) without Alan Rickman’s Sheriff of Nottingham, or Goodfellas without Joe Pesci’s Tommy DeVito? Maybe you can, but there’s no way that you can imagine them being as iconic.

     I can’t say for certain if having an infatuation with villains is an attribute that is particularly American. Maybe other cultures have a similar inclination. I can say that Americans have been doing it for quite some time, going back at least as far as “the old west”, where outlaws like Jesse James and Billy the Kid were turned into legends that appear in popular culture occasionally, up to the present day. Maybe it is part of an American’s self-image- independent and rule breaking- maybe these “villains” allow us to safely engage in the fantasy that we too could stick it to “the man”, or society, or conventions?                
     I don’t want to overstate the case, but I wonder if there isn’t a potential downside to this admiration of villainy. We’re a country that is now more economically unequal than at any time in almost a century. We’re also a country that is trying (too easily, in my opinion) to come to terms with the fact that we created a massive security state that has engaged in torture. Like I said, I don’t want to lay too much blame at the feet of Misters Douglas and Nicholson, but how much of our response to these situations is related to the images of a slick-backed, suit-wearing shark comforting us with the direction that “Greed is Good”? How much of the blind eye that we have turned to the our nation’s abuse of human rights can be seen as confirmation of a fictional Marine Colonel’s eruption that we “can’t handle the truth”?