Towering above all, though, was (and still is) my unabashed obsession with the two titanic literary talents chiefly responsible for birthing the entire shebang: J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) and Robert E. Howard (1906-1936). I consider each the complete equal of the other, two flat-out geniuses destined to be remembered and reread hundreds of years after the Pulitzer-winning authors praised by most mainstream critics are forgotten.

But it was only recently, after decades of ever-increasing reading disappointment, that I grudgingly began to admit the truth: I don’t particularly care for fantasy per se. What I actually cherish is something far more rare: the elevated prose poetry, mythopoeic subcreation, and thematic richness that only the best fantasy achieves, and that echoes in important particulars the myths and fables of old.

This realization eliminates, at a stroke, virtually everything written under the banner of fantasy today.

The mere trappings of the genre do nothing for me when wedded to the now-ubiquitous interminable soap-opera plots (a conservative friend of mine once accurately derided “fat fantasy” cycles such as Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time as “Lord of the Rings 90210”). Nor do they impress me in the least when placed into the hands of writers clearly bored with the classic mythic undertones of the genre, and who try to shake things up with what can best be described as postmodern blasphemies against our mythic heritage.

Take the latest novel by popular Brit author Joe Abercrombie (b. 1974), who regularly hits the UK bestseller lists with his self-described “edgy yet humorous un-heroic fantasy.” Titled The Heroes, the tome is guaranteed, given the scribe’s past work, to feature the exact opposite of what it advertises. “Abercrombie takes the grand tradition of high fantasy, and drags it down into the gutter, in the best possible way,” gushed Time magazine about Best Served Cold, his previous book.

Alas, I haven’t read it — Abercrombie’s freshman effort, the massive First Law trilogy (The Blade Itself, Before They Were Hanged, and Last Argument of Kings) was more than enough for me. Endless scenes of torture, treachery and bloodshed drenched in scatology and profanity concluded with a resolution worthy of M. Night Shyamalan at his worst, one that did its best to hurt, disappoint, and dishearten any lover of myths and their timeless truths. Think of a Lord of the Rings where, after stringing you along for thousands of pages, all of the hobbits end up dying of cancer contracted by their proximity to the Ring, Aragorn is revealed to be a buffoonish puppet-king of no honor and false might, and Gandalf no sooner celebrates the defeat of Sauron than he executes a long-held plot to become the new Dark Lord of Middle-earth, and you have some idea of what to expect should you descend into Abercrombie’s jaded literary sewer.

On various blogs you can find critics raving about this mythic bait-and-switch. “Gritty, violent, morally ambiguous and darkly funny fantasy with a streak of intelligent cynicism,” says Adam Whitehead of The Wertzone. “Dark, almost nihilistic, yet shot through with black humour,” writes Simon Appleby at Book Geeks, adding approvingly that, “[Abercrombie] writes about ordinary people thrust in to extraordinary situations who seldom, if ever, acquit themselves heroically.”

Troll the Amazon reviews of many of the latest books hailed as among the great mold-breaking fantasies of the last few decades, and you’ll see similar memes cropping up again and again. One fan reviewing Matthew Woodring Stover’s otherwise ingeniously plotted Caine books bemoans, as I did when trudging through them, the main character’s continuous “bitter, cynical and almost self-hating monologue.” Most of the second book in the series has Caine paralyzed and gracing the reader with detailed descriptions like, “I am — right now, lying naked in a pool of a dead woman’s shit, chained to stone, gangrene eating my dead-meat legs….”

The latest entry in Steven Erikson’s ten-volume Malazan Book of the Fallen, a series running many thousands of pages, is described by one exhausted fan as “pointlessly depressing. . . a lot of death that seems purely random and serving no purpose at all.” “Despair and fatalism dominate,” confirms another reader. (For those who haven’t gotten enough, Erikson recently announced that, with the help of another writer, he will now be expanding his opus from ten volumes to twenty-two — assuming both he and his fans live that long.)

Michael Swanwick’s subversive 1993 novel The Iron Dragon’s Daughter sported a title that lured in many young girls thinking they were getting a standard Young Adult fantasy. According to Publisher’s Weekly (and confirmed by my torturous slog through it a few years ago), it was actually a “nihilistic tale features a human changeling who tries to make her way in a cutthroat society that mirrors contemporary life. . . a powerful, yet dark and hopeless fantasy that should forever shatter charming illusions of Faerie and its folk.” Scenes of teenybopper elf sex and coke-snorting pile one atop the other until the book becomes to fantasy literature what the films of Larry Clark (Kids, Bully) are to cinema.

To be sure, people have every right to publish such books, and in so doing express their frustration or boredom with what can loosely be called the classic Tolkien/Howard mode. Such blowback against the grandmasters of fantasy is nothing new — it stretches back at least to 1934, when a teenaged Robert Bloch (who later went on to write Psycho) wrote in the letter column of the pulp magazine Weird Tales that:

I am awfully tired of poor old Conan the Cluck, who for the past fifteen issues has every month slain a new wizard, tackled a new monster, come to a violent and sudden end that was averted (incredibly enough!) in just the nick of time, and won a new girlfriend, each of whose penchant for nudism won her a place of honor, either on the cover or on the inner illustration. Such has been Conan’s history, and from the realms of the Kushites to the lands of Aquilonia, from the shores of the Shemites to the palaces of Dyme-Novell-Bolonia, I cry: “Enough of this brute and his iron-thewed sword-thrusts — may he be sent to Valhalla to cut out paper dolls.”

But, to quote Tolkien’s famous rejoinder to his critics from his introduction to the revised edition of The Lord of the Rings, “Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible; and I have no cause to complain, since I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they evidently prefer.” The other side thinks that their stuff is, at long last, turning the genre into something more original, thoughtful, and ultimately palatable to intelligent, mature audiences. They and their fans are welcome to that opinion. For my part — and I think Tolkien and Howard would have heartily agreed — I think they’ve done little more than become cheap purveyors of civilizational graffiti.

Soiling the building blocks and well-known tropes of our treasured modern myths is no different than other artists taking a crucifix and dipping it in urine, covering it in ants, or smearing it with feces. In the end, it’s just another small, pathetic chapter in the decades-long slide of Western civilization into suicidal self-loathing. It’s a well-worn road: bored middle-class creatives (almost all of them college-educated liberals) living lives devoid of any greater purpose inevitably reach out for anything deemed sacred by the conservatives populating any artistic field. They co-opt the language, the plots, the characters, the cliches, the marketing, and proceed to deconstruct it all like a mad doctor performing an autopsy. Then, using cynicism, profanity, scatology, dark humor, and nihilism, they put it back together into a Frankenstein’s monster designed to shock, outrage, offend, and dishearten.

In the case of the fantasy genre, the result is a mockery and defilement of the mythopoeic splendor that true artists like Tolkien and Howard willed into being with their life’s blood. Honor is replaced with debasement, romance with filth, glory with defeat, and hope with despair. Edgy? Nah, just punk kids farting in class and getting some giggles from the other mouth-breathers.

It’s quite rich to see many of the guys writing fantasy today being praised for (to once again quote Publisher’s Weekly talking about Joe Abercrombie) successfully exposing the “madness, passion, and horror of war.” How soon we forget that some of the early work of J.R.R. Tolkien — the man who pioneered the selfsame High Fantasy now being dragged “down into the gutter” to make it suitably “edgy” — was penned while he sat in the trenches of World War I, even while most his closest friends were being killed. Tolkien later wrote the a sizable amount of The Lord of the Rings during the Second World War, while worrying about two of his sons as they headed off to do their part.

Call me humorless, call me old-fashioned, but I daresay the good professor had a much better idea of war and heroes than the nihilistic jokesters writing modern fantasy.

To be continued. . . . .

6.  “Being exploited is different from being empowered ” – Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982)

Often too-easily dismissed as a raunchy teen sex comedy, Fast Time was a tremendously influential and important mirror on young America in the early 1980s.  The fact that it is gut-bustlingly funny – Sean Penn’s turn as surfer/stoner Jeff Spicoli remains his only role where he doesn’t annoy me – seems to overshadow the serious undercurrents, as does the ample nudity culminating in the unforgettable swimming pool scene starring the glorious Phoebe Cates.

—–

However, there is a very, very dark undercurrent to this movie that provides a serious lesson to young people.  Jennifer Jason-Leigh’s Stacy is a pretty but not-so-bright 15/16 year old who does not understand the difference between love and sex.  In a world of absolutely no parents (not a single one is ever seen), she tries to find love (or at least attention) by basically trying to have tacky sex with every guy she meets – and it’s heartbreaking.  She’s not “empowered” – she’s used.  The ugly scene where she loses her virginity to a guy in his 20s in a Little League dug-out staring at graffiti reading “Surf Nazis Must Die” is a better repudiation of the “hook-up” culture than a hundred lectures.

After scaring off the one guy who actually likes her for herself by trying to bed him too, she seeks comfort underneath his skanky pal.  A grim, humiliating encounter in a pool house leaves her pregnant and she immediately seeks an abortion.  Regardless of one’s stand on the life issue, one cannot be anything other than horrified at how the fact she sees herself as literally nothing but a mere receptacle leads her to feel nothing at all about her decision.

But there is hope.  The film ends with her finally back with the boy who actually loves her, and a final title card assures us that they remain together and “still haven’t gone all the way yet.”

7.   “You make your destiny” — The Pursuit of Happyness (2006)

Liberal filmmakers would have you believe that you are nothing but a victim of forces you cannot control, and that without their help you have no future.  That is especially true for minorities, who liberal ideology requires be told again and again that without the help of their liberal masters they can never succeed.  But, of course, liberalism never leads to success, only to a few more scraps in the form of entitlements offered in exchange for perpetual ballot box fealty to the elite overlords.

The Pursuit of Happyness drives a Mac truck through that loser paradigm.  Will Smith is the lead in the true story of a man who hits bottom but simply will not quit.  Believing in himself, working his butt off, taking risks and – shock! – out-performing the competition, he goes from homeless to capitalist success story.

He doesn’t look for handouts.  He doesn’t sit back waiting for his the liberal overlords to decide what he gets.  He embraces the challenge of the free market and through sheer dedication makes himself a winner.  He makes his own destiny; he doesn’t wait to be told what it can or will be.

As such, Pursuit may well be the one of the most subversive films of the last decade.

8.  “Character is what you do when the stakes are the highest” – Bolt (2008)

This terrific Disney cartoon about a TV star dog who thought he was the superhero he plays on television then finds himself separated from the little girl who owns him makes a huge point about character.  It comes up most clearly at the end, where his little girl is trapped on a burning soundstage.  The dog who had replaced Bolt runs away, leaving her in the fire.  But Bolt, though he now knows he is just a normal hound, goes back in anyway.

Character isn’t something that you wear like a medal.  It’s what you do when the chips are down, when all hell is breaking lose, when everyone else is running away.

The message of Bolt is a powerful statement that is especially applicable to young people.  My little girl saw Bolt as a good dog who would not leave his girl behind and understood why that mattered; her dad thought of his own heroes who would not leave those they swore to protect no matter what the cost.

And when young people are a little older, they’ll be ready for the similar messages of Black Hawk Down – “It’s what you do right now that makes a difference” and “Leave no man behind.”  (BHD also teaches the vital lesson that there is no substitute for the firepower of heavy armor and artillery.)  But Bolt is a great foundation  for learning about character – as well as a great movie.

9.  “The west is worth defending” – 300 (2006)

If you enjoy lame liberal flicks that spend most of their time apologizing for our Western culture, you’ll probably want to miss 300.  I’m sure there will be plenty of seats available for the revival of Lions for Lambs down at the Nuart.

But if you unapologetically support the victory of the West in our current war against jihadi barbarism and its related pathologies, you might dig 300.  It makes no excuses about the superiority of our culture and our freedoms, which is why liberals hate it.

300 is the highly stylized story of the small Spartan contingent that fought a legendary delaying action at a narrow pass called Thermopylae in northern Greece that allowed the rest of the Greeks to prepare to meet the Persian horde and their self-styled demigod king. They were slaughtered to a man, but succeeded in their mission.

The beauty of 300 is the fearlessness with which the filmmakers tell the truth – though it is unclear if they intended to make that statement, make it they do.  While imperfect, the Greeks as portrayed in the film embody the Western values of individual freedom while the Persian hordes are mere faceless slaves.  The Greeks stand and fight because they are free men who choose to do so; the Persian soldiers fight with whips at their backs, mere cannon fodder for a tyrant’s ambition.

Nothing has changed in the last couple thousand years.

It’s almost shocking to see a major Hollywood film make clear that our way of life is unequivocally worth defending, and death in battle against tyranny is infinitely preferable to “life” as a slave.  When folks get all wrapped up about “creeping sharia” I usually mention that it doesn’t worry us American soldiers because we would never be alive to see it happen; we’d all be lying dead surrounded by empty magazines, spent shell casings, and the bodies of our enemies.  If you don’t understand that perspective, you might want to skip 300.  You might also want try and see if your doctor can help you out with a spine transplant.

10.  “Your personal happiness is not the most important thing in the world” – Casablanca (1942)

Besides being arguably the greatest movie ever made, Casablanca also teaches one of conservatism’s most important lessons.  The usual Hollywood pap tells you that your personal short term desires are your only guide; just look at the unspeakable moral disaster that is The English Patient.  While conservatism is about individual liberty, with liberty comes the responsibility to occasionally put your own needs aside when duty calls.

Hollywood’s moral compass was not always broken.  In Casablanca, Rick throws away his chance for happiness with Ilsa in order to help defeat the Nazis.  Watch this classic scene – probably Hollywood’s finest hour both artistically and morally:

Here’s the key quote.  Try imagining it coming out of the word processor of one of the pampered, over-paid Ivy League twerps churning out scripts today:

Rick:  We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.
Ilsa:  When I said I would never leave you.
Rick:  And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of. Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you’ll understand that.

Let’s assume there is still a director out there who would allow that many lines of dialogue in a row without a shaky camera jump cut.  Even then, we’d still get Victor Laszlo as an uptight, probably Christian, creep with the unreasonable expectation that his wife not start banging another man just because she finds him sexy.  Instead of sending her away, Rick would probably tell off Mr. Jesus J. Stickuphisrear, then he and Ilsa would jump on the plane together.  Let other people deal with the Nazis – inconveniences like honor and duty just get in the way of validating one’s own feelings!  Plus, they’d probably cast Ashton Kutcher as Rick and Katherine Heigl as Ilsa.  And switch the location to Vegas.  And change the Nazis into CIA agents.  And make Sam into a streetwise hustler played by 50 Cent, who could also do a hip-hop version of As Time Goes By that somehow incorporates the phrase “my bitches.”

No, the fact is that sometimes your problems don’t amount to a hill of beans, that you have to make hard choices and do the right thing even where – gasp! – it might make you feel bad.  Casablanca is easy to take because of great actors, a great script, and a great story, but its message is strong medicine.  And, as we enter a second decade of (open) warfare for our civilization’s survival, it could not be timelier.

———-

Again, this list is by no means complete, but it is evidence that within our popular culture there is the capacity for art to make powerful conservative statements.  After all, that is the whole point of Big Hollywood.  We cannot just leave our culture to the left – we know where that leads.  Instead, we need to identify and support positive popular culture, to demand it instead of accepting whatever crap the Hollywood elite tries to force down our throats.  And we need to fight back by calling out and mocking mercilessly the lefty nonsense offered to us by the Hollywoodoids, so coming soon:  “The Top 10 Idiotic Leftist Movie Messages.”

And it turns out that, try as I might, I cannot present a list of vital movies messages without citing Heat.  So here’s on key one that’s helped guide me in my daily life:  “It always helps to use intensive, controlled automatic weapons fire, along with rapid maneuver, to defeat your enemies.”  That’s truly a message we can all relate to.

—–

And many conservatives have.  Many of us have thrown our hands in the air and opted out of popular culture completely, exhausted from enduring liberal sucker punches buried within crummy flicks about magic robots battling Dick Cheney vampire clones that we pay $12.50 to see in theaters maintained at the hygiene level of your average bus station men’s room.  You can hardly blame them for giving up.

But as tempting as it is to withdraw from the battlefield, to dig in and hope it somehow changes, surrender was never an option.  This is our culture, not theirs.  And they don’t get to control it. 

The fact is that among the detritus of American popular culture, there are voices of sanity.  Sure, they are nearly drowned out by over-praised hacks like Aaron Sorkin and over-indulged clowns like Oliver Stone.  Yet, occasionally, Hollywood has allowed positive, conservative messages to slip through.

Sure, some of them are from long ago, but we have never forgotten them.  In fact, we have embraced them and treasured them, a powerful demonstration of the fact that good commonsense messages can also be commercially viable.  Some of them are more recent as well, teachers of vital lessons that somehow the guard dogs of liberal culture missed.

The following list is by no means complete – the commenters will no doubt offer hordes of other worthies between their observations about how I am insane and/or stupid.  It is simply these ten solid conservative messages that I have found particularly meaningful – however, please note that Heat has earned emeritus status and is not found on the list.

So, in no particular order:

1.  “Evil must be confronted and defeated” – Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

This magnificent three-part epic illustrates several great conservative lessons through the tale of Frodo, a gentle hobbit who finds himself the only hope for the world of free peoples as a wicked tyranny arises.  The various nations and races of free creatures are disorganized and confused, with some thinking they can simply hide or wait out the terror.  But J.R.R. Tolkien, who fought in the miserable trenches of the First World War and later watched the rise of Hitler, understood that there is no sanctuary from aggressive evil.  His characters, at a terrible cost, choose to march out and meet the enemy.

Of particular note is the frivolous, care-free land from which Frodo hails, the Shire, a green and pleasant realm that considers itself far from danger and immune to evil.  But, as blogger Kellie Jane Adan recently discussed, Frodo had the wisdom to see what his happy countrymen could not or would not – that the enemies of freedom will not just go away if you ignore them.  Even those who get eaten last still get eaten in the end.  The peril of freedom is that it can lead a people to forget that it comes with a price tag, and that the price is sometimes payable in blood.

It does not take a genius to see the parallels between The Lord of the Rings and the real world of Tolkien’s time, nor the parallels to our world of today.  The jihadi movement and the rogue crime syndicates masquerading as nations such as Iran, North Korea, and Venezuela make no secret of their intentions.  Still, the Western elites remain willfully blind, looking inward and caring only about their own petty personal interests.  The Lord of the Rings is a powerful rejoinder to that foolishness, and one every parent should ensure their children see and understand.

2.   “Leaders lead by example” — We Were Soldiers (2002)

America’s bookstores are filled with tedious management tomes written by college professors and CEOs, but while many of their books’ titles contain the word “Leadership,” comparing their tepid version of management to true leadership is like comparing Justin Bieber to AC/DC in terms of rocking.  If you want to learn something about what leaders do – and can put aside Mel Gibson’s personal character failures – pop in a DVD of We Were Soldiers.

A bloody and harrowing account of the ferocious 1965 Battle of Ia Drang, Gibson’s (then) Lieutenant Colonel Hal Moore is the quintessential United States Army officer, the first off the chopper during the air assault and always in the thick of the fight.

Watch as Gibson surveys and assesses the situation, makes his tough decision to call in dangerous close-in air support, and then joins in the fight alongside his troopers.  Playing a cavalry battalion commander – a job I held, though not while deployed – Gibson is everywhere on the battlefield, encouraging his men, controlling the fight and most importantly (when all hell breaks loose) staying calm.

And it’s an accurate portrayal, not only because the battle tracks the fight depicted in Lieutenant General (Retired) Moore’s superb book.  I actually saw LTG Moore speak at Fort Benning during my Infantry Officer Advanced Course in 1994.  Gibson may be a creep in his personal life, but he did LTG Moore right in the film.  And do not forget Sam Elliot’s awesome portrayal of Command Sergeant Major Basil Plumley – a commander is only as good as his NCOs.

We Were Soldiers demonstrates that a leader isn’t some guy at a desk at the other end of a phone line filling out paperwork.  Leaders lead.  Period.

3.  “The only colors that matter in America are red, white, and blue” – Glory (1989)

Liberals talk a good game about diversity.  But more than any other institution in America, the military lives it.  Once again, We Were Soldiers sums that up:

But that was not always true.  During the Civil War, freed blacks had to fight for their right to fight.  Glory tells the story of those incredible America soldiers and the white officers appointed to lead them.  The conservative lesson is clear – nonsense like color makes no difference; character is everything.  The 54^th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry proved its bravery in battle, not thanks to some quota or by some special dispensation by liberals who deep down think no one else can prosper without their help.  They did it themselves:

Colonel Shaw, the white commander of the 54^th was killed during the storming of Fort Wagner.  According to legend, the Confederates refused to return his body, instead burying him with his black troops.  They thought it was an insult.  In fact, there could be no higher honor for an American officer.

Glory teaches the essential conservative truth that honor, courage, and patriotism are not the province of any one race.  Now, it’s entirely possible that the makers of Glory, like the makers of some of these other films, did not think they were sending a conservative message at all.  If so, they are wrong.  Race means nothing to conservatives, but it means everything to liberals.

Keep in mind that liberals customarily assign any wrongdoing in the past to “conservatives,” as if today’s Tea Party would re-impose child labor and slavery if it had its Neanderthal druthers.  Don’t buy that nonsense.  The next time some liberal starts yapping about racism, just ask him which party, in 2010, hailed as an “icon” a KKK Kleagle and Exalted Cyclops, one who incidentally wrote these hideous words:

I shall never fight in the armed forces with a Negro by my side…Rather I should die a thousand times, and see Old Glory trampled in the dirt never to rise again, than to see this beloved land of ours become degraded by race mongrels, a throwback to the blackest specimen from the wilds.

Hint:  Senator Icon was not a Republican (or a soldier, for that matter).

4.  “You are the check on the power of the state” — Twelve Angry Men (1957)

Set inside a jury room during a murder deliberation, a dozen jurors (played by a who’s who of great old-time stars and character actors) start off eager to convict the young defendant and go home.  However, Henry Fonda refuses to be railroaded and forces the others to confront their apathy, personal issues, and racial prejudices.

Another movie that probably thinks it is liberal, Twelve Angry Men appears to believe it is an indictment of pure prejudice.  However, what it really is is a conservative critique of the power of the state and what happens when citizens allow their own interests and biases to cause them to abdicate their responsibility to doubt their government and challenge it.

If the defendant is convicted, he will be executed – there is no greater example of the power of the state.  But as these citizens pick at the government’s case they find flaws and inconsistencies.  The government is not perfect or omniscient – far from it.  The state is as flawed as human beings themselves, and the answer is not to meekly submit to its power but to stand up to it, to limit its powers and to make it justify every exercise of authority.  That’s not anarchy or “hatred of government,” as liberals label any attempt by conservatives to rein in the leviathan – rather, that is the conservative notion that a government of men will be as imperfect as man itself.  Every citizen has an absolute duty to ensure it never slips out of control – even where he’s outnumbered by 11-1 by those who find it easier to conform.

5.  “True capitalists make America great” – It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

Brought to the screen just a few years after the Depression ended, IAWL is not an indictment of free enterprise but, rather, a celebration of it.  Some quarter-wit progressives – yeah, I’m looking at you again Aaron Sorkin – think this classic Frank Capra slice of Americana makes Old Man Potter into a capitalist poster child.  More nonsense.  The track record of the policies progressives espouse being unblemished with anything like success, their opinions about this and everything else should be summarily disregarded.

In fact, Potter is only a “capitalist” in the way that Chrysler, General Motors, and AIG are “capitalist” enterprises – he’s the face of a conglomerate tied in with the government (remember how he offers to send the police over to “help” during the panic?) and with other big businesses (remember how he takes over the town bank?).  He is the power structure; the form he takes is “capitalist” only when it suits him.

Potter is not merely about money but about control over others and their lives – and like the liberals we deal with today (including the ones who make most movies), he has nothing but contempt for regular people. Throw in the word “transfats” or “guns” and Potter might as well be zillionaire Michael Bloomberg decrying the refusal of the masses to conform to his personal vision of how they ought to live their lives.

If alive today, Potter would find himself welcomed to the table with his liberal Democratic co-believers, pausing from making more mischief only to welcome their newest lobbyist, former Senator Chris Dodd.

Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey is the true capitalist, working hard at the Building & Loan his father started not only to support himself and his family but to help his community.  He doesn’t ask for (or give) handouts.  His pride comes not from making money (though he apparently does okay, which is cool) but by being the guy responsible for helping so many hardworking Americans earn homes. That’s not unusual – when I talk about my business, I talk not about my AGI but about how many people I employ.  In fact, the whole point of the movie is that Bedford Falls is a better place because of George Bailey – and, by extension, the country is better because of similar true capitalists.

IAWL is a warning about how self-styled elitists will use every lever of power at their disposal – big business, big government, or whatever – in order to control the lives of others.  Old Man Potter no more represents capitalism than Aaron Sorkin represents sobriety.  As IAWL teaches, we need to be on our guard and in the faces of these creepy petty fascists every single minute of every day.

Stay tuned for Part II.

I do.  

For all his foibles – utter inability to explain his policies to the American public, bending over backwards for bipartisanship with Democrats, foolish bailouts – Bush was a president who understood the battle between good and evil in our current war on Islamofascism, even if he wouldn’t call the war by its proper name. 

And Bush’s clarity had a measurable impact on our film culture.  Leaving aside the obvious mirror images (the success of 24 or Taken, e.g.), the Bush Administration saw a rash of huge blockbusters dealing with the dichotomy between good and evil, and the necessity of fighting evil with every resource at our disposal.  

The single top earner of the Bush Administration was The Dark Knight, a very thinly veiled defense of Bush tactics in the war on terror.  No better speech on the motivation for terror can be found in movies than Michael Caine’s assertion as Alfred that “some people just want to watch the world burn.”  

Leaving aside sequels (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest and Shrek 2), the next biggest earner was Spider-Man, which saw our hero being told that “with great power comes great responsibility.”  Then there were the Lord of the Rings films, which clearly dealt with the conflict between good and evil.  Bush could have spoken Aragorn’s line in his climactic battle speech at the end of Return of the King:

“A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day.  An hour of woes and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down!  But it is not this day!  This day we fight!  By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!” 

And I haven’t even mentioned The Passion of the Christ. 

Think that Bush had no impact on the box office?  For contrast, let’s take a look at the biggest films of the Clinton years.  

The top earner, of course, was the childish Titanic, which was as feeble-minded and beautiful a spectacle as has ever been depicted on screen.  The Clinton years were a soft time of large illusions – and no film better depicted those illusions of grandeur than Titanic.  Puerile romance topped by delusions of depth.  Sums up Clinton pretty well.  It’s no wonder that as Clinton left office, the country hit an iceberg brought on by years of bad steering. 

Next, after skipping Star Wars Episode I (it’s tough to argue that it wouldn’t have been a hit in any era with that build-up), we get to Jurassic Park.  In that film, perverted nature is the enemy.  It’s as though you can feel the confusion of the American public in the aftermath of the Cold War – who do we fight now? 

What can we expect from Obama?  Bloated monstrosities (Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen) and liberal claptrap (Avatar).  

Do I miss Bush?  Absolutely.  Do I miss the movies of the Bush era?  You bet. 

But, no. Not yet. Can’t stand any one of them. What am I doing wrong?

-

2001: A Space Odyssey – Some compare this to watching paint dry, but that’s unfair because when paint dries SOMETHING ACTUALLY HAPPENS.

Kubrick was a genius and his intentional stripping of humanity from many of his later films may have been the point, but not always an appealing one. A film without humanity is nothing more than a cinematic coffee table book, something to flip through with your attention at half-mast during a conversation about your day at the office. “The Killing,” “Lolita,” “A Clockwork Orange,” “Paths of Glory,” and “Spartacus…” those are Kubrick’s true masterworks.

“2001” they should loop at Gitmo.

-

Raging Bull (1980) -Technically, “Raging Bull” has a lot going for it, but the ugliness is relentless to the point where you become numb to it. A character study should study a character worthy of your time. De Niro’s Jake La Motta just isn’t interesting. For the whole film we watch the same character act the same way. The situations change, but little else.

After 45-minutes, I get it – I get it – I get it…

Many believe “Raging Bull” wuz robbed for Best Picture by Robert Redford’s “Ordinary People.” Personally, I’d rather watch “Ordinary People” while kneeling on marbles, and my opinion of Martin Scorsese’s “The Departed” is even lower.

-

Vertigo (1958) – A better title might have been “Tedious.” To be fair to Hitchcock, the problem could be as simple as casting. My affection for the Golden Age is deep, but not blind, and Kim Novak wasn’t a very appealing actress. Her “Vertigo” character(s) are blah and her make-up atrocious. Therefore, the James Stewart character’s obsession with her makes little sense, which in turn keeps me at an emotional distance. Change nothing else, but put Deborah Kerr in the Novak role and my opinion might change completely. An obsession with Kerr I can relate to.

-

Anything By Wes Anderson without the Word “Rushmore” in the Title – “Rushmore” is a flat out masterpiece, the rest not so much. Sure, “Bottle Rocket” is okay in that subdued indie kinda way we all feel we’re supposed to like, but Anderson’s films have slowly degraded since, starting with “The Royal Tenenbaums.” There’s no denying he’s a talented filmmaker with a unique voice, and it may just be that I hate “quirky” with the heat of a thousand suns, but the genius of “Rushmore” was the affection we felt for Jason Schwartzman’s irrepressible Max Fischer. Everything Anderson’s done since has jettisoned characters you feel something for in favor of a sterile, off-beat tone.

No thanks.

-

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001 ) – Huge fan of part 2, kinda dig part 3, but the first one is just too episodic for my taste.

We’ve all got a few of these films we dislike that might get us kicked off the cool kids’ table.

Fess up.