Objectivist Film Bulletin

Let me set the stage. In the near future (i.e. after the obligatory nuclear holocaust), the Soviets have drastically expanded their empire, and the free world has joined together as one entity in order to oppose them. Taking the lead in this battle is Megaforce, a crack military corps boasting fantastic weapons and the charismatic Commander Hunter.

Admittedly, it’s a comic book on film. Nothing high-brow about it. The plot is simplistic, and the characters are too. But this is no Dark Night. This is a strangely, profoundly motivational fim.

You, the viewer, get to experience by proxy the life of Commander Ace Hunter. Donning a skin-tight gold jumpsuit and sky-blue headband, blazing off on your specially-equipped motorcycle into the heat of battle, and romancing the gorgeous daughter of the President in the process.

Over the top. Or larger than life. That describes almost every aspect of this film, especially the dialogue, which is unexpectedly hilarious. The characters are mostly absurd stereotypes. The ending is totally unbelievable. But this film is not about reality–not about the mundane way things are. It’s about overcoming, victory, success. This is true romantic storytelling.

There is war, but no one dies. There are enemies, but they act more like old friends. What is suffering? What is humiliation? What is guilt? It doesn’t matter; they don’t exist here. I imagine that many people have argued that this film glamorizes war. But those people probably also believe there is never any justification for war.

History has apparently written off Megaforce as a b-movie. But it was made with an a-movie budget, and intended at the time to be a blockbuster. The director had a long career as a Hollywood stuntman before undertaking this project.

I am reminded here of the fact that Ayn Rand, as a child, was obsessed with 19th century mass-produced children’s stories about swashbucklers and heroes. This film seems to be in line with that particular tradition.

See this film and tell me what you think. It’s slightly more enjoyable if you have a few drinks while doing so. (No wine though, that’s totally inappropriate.) And if you can find a copy on VHS and VHS player, so much the better. The sharp, high-resolution DVD quality seems to weaken its effectiveness. It looks much better in slightly fuzzy, highly saturated VHS color.

And I think this is an interesting contrast to the Atlas Shrugged movie. Both have been called “bad,” but only one is worthless.

Henry Fool arrives in Long Island.  Modern New York’s version of Lord Byron, a nineteenth century romantic wandering the suburban landscape and forever writing his Confessions, a poetic memoir of “comic book proportions.”

He happens to enter the life of Simon Grim, an autistic young garbage man, eventually inspiring him to become a poet.  Simon’s poetry, at first hated, then considered controversial, then widely accepted as a transformational force in a rotting American culture, delivers him from a life of monotony while at the same time disrupting his relationship with Henry, his best friend and teacher.

It’s an incredible story.  About poetry, the publishing industry, fame, and cultural decline.  And it’s very humorous too, although it isn’t a comedy.

Hal Hartley was one of the best American filmmakers of the 1990s.  His poetic visual style, his nuanced and philosophically-aware dialogue, and his non-cliched perspective on American culture make this a film Objectivists can enjoy.

But it’s gritty at times, and certainly not a film I’d call uplifting.  The plot is a little convoluted, especially toward the end.  The character of Henry Fool, however, is unforgettable, and is primarily responsible for the value and longevity of the film.

This film also helped launch the career of Parker Posey, an actress discovered by Hartley that went on to become a symbol of American art film.

Here’s a clip from the film, in which Henry teaches Simon a grammar lesson.

Louis Malle is something of a modern Tocqueville.  Born in France, he started his filmmaking career there, becoming a fringe member of the French New Wave movement of the 1960s.  But, having fascination and enthusiasm about American culture, he moved here in the 1970s.  He then produced a number of noteworthy films, including And the Pursuit of Happiness, which is an often-overlooked but excellent documentary.  (Malle also ended up marrying Candice Bergen, the star of TV’s Murphy Brown.)

The film is an analysis of immigration and the experience of individual immigrants in the United States during the 1980s.  It documents the dramatic transition of people from the world’s most violent and backward countries to the banalities of suburban America.  It is humorous, too.

What Objectivists can appreciate about this documentary is simply the way in which it was made, or the perspective Malle assumes.  He begins with no a priori conclusions about immigration, immigrants, or the US; rather, the film becomes his personal investigation, an analysis through observation by a clear and clever rational thinker.

As you may know, this approach is not the norm.  Malle, perhaps because he was a foreigner himself, easily assumes an objective position.  But the objectivity doesn’t lead to distance or lack of emotional involvement, as is also common.  He demonstrates toward his subjects a true curiosity, respect, and–empathy?

His subjects, by the way, are an incredible lot: a freedom fighter from Kurdistan who opens his own Taxi company in Dallas, a former Laotian general who now lives in a suburban condo with his family, and the exiled Samoza family (the former rulers of Nicaragua who were ousted by the Sandinistas).

Striking is the fact that most of the non-immigrant Americans he interviews are very concerned with urging Congress to make important immigration reforms and warn of a coming “crisis.”  This was just before 1986.

While Malle shows the problems of immigration along the benefits, he does so with an implied confidence that Americans will be able to work out whatever issues they face.  A very memorable and uplifting film.

See an excerpt here.

Two affluent young men decide they are above morality and therefore permitted to take the life of any inferior person still bound by the concepts good and evil.  That’s the story here.  Yes, it is drawn from the pages of Nietzsche.  In fact, he’s cited in the dialogue.

But it turns out the young men’s amoral outlook doesn’t come directly from Nietzsche; it comes from their former philosophy teacher, a disingenuous rationalist-type.  The most incredible moment in the film occurs when this teacher (James Stewart) witnesses the concrete result of his philosophy and is finally forced to accept its contradictions.  Really: incredible.

This is without a doubt the best philosophical drama ever produced by Hollywood.  (But not entirely American, since Hitchcock was British.)  And it’s probably one of Hollywood’s most intelligent films.  The dialogue is sparkling and unbelievably clever, and the characters are full-bodied, vivid personalities.  This is how the film version of The Fountainhead should have been.

When watching, savor the glimpse of America past.  Marvel at the godlike people who occupied this country 60 years ago.  Brilliant, rational, cultured, proud.  And very sharp dressers too.  It should give you a little insight into why Hollywood today is so interested in remaking films like this.  By comparison, Rope makes modern thrillers look like the creative expressions of a neurotic neanderthal.

Also notice the theatrical style of the film.  There is virtually no cutting.  In fact, Hitchcock intended the film to appear as one long, continuous take–like a play.  Compare this to the whopping 5000 or so cuts in the average film today.  (55 cuts per minute!)

Ayn Rand considered Hitchcock to be a “compromise” director–that is, a Romanticist who makes concessions to a corrupt culture for the sake of popularity.  As she puts in in the RM, Hitchcock “gets away with Romanticism by means of an overemphasis on malevolence or on sheer horror.”

Hitchcock is often thought of as the Anglo emulator of Fritz Lang.  Many of Hitchcock’s films borrow heavily from (or blatantly copy) Lang, who never gained the same level of popularity in the US.

Francis Veber is one of France’s veteran comedy geniuses.  Over the years many of his films have been remade (terribly) by American companies, but he is probably best known in the anglophone world as the writer of The Birdcage, a 1996 hit.  The Closet was directed when Veber was 64.

The Closet is, technically speaking, a farce.  About a down-and-out guy who pretends to be gay in order to avoid being fired from his job.  Did I mention that he works for a condom manufacturer?  You can see where things are going.  But it never gets vulgar.

A complete lack of political correctness here.  Like nothing I’ve ever seen in a contemporary American film.  The film’s humor is almost entirely centered around ridiculing “anti-discrimination” laws and their accompanying workplace culture.  But this is not a bitter satire or political vanity piece.  The humor is lighthearted and intelligent, generating an incredible, benevolent sense of life.

Gerard Depardieu, once of France’s most famous actors, plays a supporting role.  I know many Americans don’t like his acting style (“too French”), but don’t avoid this film just because of his presence.  The role he plays is one of the most fitting I’ve seen him in.

One warning: the dialogue includes some gay slurs.  If you shudder to hear such things, even in the context of light comedy, you might want to pass this one up.

In the Romantic Manifesto, Ayn Rand cited Fritz Lang as “an example of film direction at its best.” Lang made a name for himself in 1920s Germany with silent films such as Metropolis and Siegfried, then emigrated to the US. His work in Hollywood never reached the same heights that his earlier films did, but The Big Heat might be an exception–it was his most commercially successful American film.

It tells the story of Dave Bannion (Glenn Ford), a cop who confronts his mafia-run police department. Its focus, however, is not on police corruption or mafia gangsterism, but on the personal corruption of average citizens–their willingness to “compromise” with criminals for the sake of “safety.” The second-handedness is rendered with striking realism and little sympathy.

Remarkable also is the affirmative portrayal of Bannion’s independence and idealistic sense of justice. After being threatened by his superiors for sticking to his own judgment during an investigation, he tells his wife: “What am I supposed to do? Hold on to my job by just stringing along, afraid to look to the left or to the right, because I might see something they don’t want me to see?” To which she replies: “If you do, you’re gonna have trouble from me. You just keep leading with your chin. And don’t you compromise.”

Bannion represents a dead character type: the “average guy idealist,” popular in the 1950s. Glenn Ford often played these characters, the best example being his role in Ransom! (1956), which is unfortunately out-of-print (and which was unfortunately remade with Mel Gibson).

I should add that The Big Heat is the originator of the now-cliched “cop takes on system” plot. But Bannion is distinguished from the Dirty Harrys of the world by the fact that he isn’t a killer, and he never descends into questionable moral behavior himself. Revenge does play a role in his motivation, but it is incidental, serving only to amplify his primary desire for justice. The Big Heat is no Death Wish.

And Jocelyn Brando, who plays Bannion’s wife, is indeed Marlon’s sister.