With President Trump’s <a href="https://www.dailywire.com/news/watch-trump-laments-oscars-giving-a-movie-from-south-korea-best-picture-internet-responds">recent remarks</a> about “Parasite” and its Best Picture win, many a comment section has been filled with talk about foreign films, too often in a dismissive way. “Those movies are weird” and “I don’t want to read” are common refrains in the ol’ comment section. There are even some who act as though these films don’t deserve any real consideration by American audiences simply because they’re made elsewhere. While I can understand some of these objections (I’m not the fastest reader myself), others demonstrate an astonishing solipsism, which is the antithesis of what art is all about.
The responses haven’t all been all negative, though. Some readers have expressed interest in expanding their awareness of international cinema, but are overwhelmed by its enormity. After all, it’s not as though “Foreign” is a specific genre. French films are different than Japanese films, which are different than Indian films. And so on. And those countries have their own take on drama, comedy, and action. Each country has its own sensibilities, and each individual filmmaker his or her own filmmaking preferences.
Just as American films have different levels of accessibility, so do foreign films. Certainly, the image of the black and white French film featuring people in turtlenecks smoking cigarettes in profile may loom large in the American mind, but there are also French films that are just as crowd-pleasing as any domestic movie. But, to be fair, there are certainly some foreign films that curious American viewers will be more comfortable with than others.
Below is a list of ten non-American films that more adventurous American viewers might enjoy. As accessibility is the name of the game here, the list leans European. There is no Indian, African, or Middle Eastern film, though there are plenty that deserve recognition. If you’re a film fan interested in expanding your horizons, these films might be a good place to start.
10. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) &#8211; Mexico/Spain
Guillermo Del Toro’s horror riff on “Alice in Wonderland,” this film takes place shortly after the Spanish Civil War. A young girl attempts to escape her hellish life by traveling to a magical kingdom full of beauty and peril. Visually stunning but still imbued with the tonal darkness that Del Toro had become known for, “Pan’s Labyrinth” is a deeply disturbing but hopeful take on the horror of war and its impact on the most innocent and vulnerable in society.
9. Bicycle Thieves (1948) &#8211; Italy
Vittorio De Sica’s depiction of post-World War II economic depression in Italy is widely considered one of the best movies of all time. An out-of-work family man finally lands a job that requires him to purchase a bicycle. On his first day, his bike is stolen and he recruits his young son to help him find it. Along the way, the two grow closer, but the search becomes more and more hopeless. Despite its downbeat tone, the film remains a humanistic look at poverty and family. An absolute masterpiece.
8. Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974) &#8211; West Germany 
R.W. Fassbinder’s romantic drama about the attraction of two lonely souls features some of the most naturalistic acting I’ve ever seen. An older woman, largely ignored by her family, falls in love with an Moroccan immigrant with no social connections. The two grow closer, but soon find their relationship tested beyond anything they ever expected. A lovely little film with a clear-eyed look at the intricacies of enduring romance.
7. The Wages of Fear (1953) &#8211; France/Italy
One of the most intense films ever made, Henri-Georges Clouzot’s story of social outcasts hired to transport nitroglycerin over a mountain pass takes stress to a new level. As our characters journey – slowly, cautiously – toward their destination, they open up about their lives and backgrounds, knowing that any word could be their last. A master class in cinematic tension.
6. Hero (2004) &#8211; China
Chinese wuxia films have always combined stunning action choreography with a certain grace of execution, creating a wholly new and exciting kind of adventure story. Directed by visualist Zhang Yimou and starring Jet Li, “Hero” features beautiful action set pieces that rank with some of the best in film history. Quiet and patient one moment and dangerously complex the next, this film is bound to satisfy anybody who likes their action to be more considered and mature.
5. Life is Beautiful (1998) &#8211; Italy
Roberto Benigni took the world by storm with this Charlie Chaplin-inspired depiction of World War II-era anti-semitism. As a Jewish shopkeeper – played by Benigni himself – is taken to a concentration camp with his young son, his protective instinct kicks in and he does everything he can to shield the boy from the horrifying truth of their situation. Criticized by some for soft-pedaling Nazi atrocities, the film remains committed to his blending of drama and comedy, ending on an inspiring note, effectively suggesting that hope is possible in even the most dire of circumstances.
4. Amelie (2001) &#8211; France
When visualist Jean-Pierre Jeunet takes on the romantic comedy genre, the results are bound to be unique. In the story of “Amelie,” a young woman (played by the charming Audrey Tatou) in the middle of a personal quest to improve the lives of those around her, suddenly finds herself falling in love. Her usual boldness fails her in her pursuit of romance, making for adorable mishaps and endearing awkwardness, all in the midst of a beautiful – and more fanciful – reality, courtesy of Jeunet’s hyperactive imagination.
3. The Vanishing (1988) &#8211; Netherlands/France
Dutch filmmaker George Sulzier riffs on the standard 80s thriller with this straightforward, sobering tale of a young man whose girlfriend disappears without a trace. As his search stretches on, Sulzier explores the familiar theme of obsession, but with a chilling twist. A deeply disturbing film made all the more terrifying due to its matter-of-fact tone, “The Vanishing” will linger in your memory much longer than you want it to.
2. M (1931) &#8211; Germany
German director Fritz Lang, who helped to define the look of 1920s cinema, here tells the story of a city on the brink of collapse. A mysterious man has been abducting and murdering children, and it is having an impact on both local law enforcement and the criminal underground. Featuring a haunted performance by a young Peter Lorre, this film is a visual feast that explores compulsion with the pitch black tone of a horror film.
1. Throne of Blood (1957) &#8211; Japan
Filmmaker Akira Kurosawa may have been best known for his samurai stories set in feudal Japan, but he was nevertheless enamored with Western narratives. His influences were as varied as the novels of Dashiell Hammett to the early works of John Ford. And, as we see with “Throne of Blood,” Kurosawa clearly had a fondness for the works of William Shakespeare, as well. Starring famous Japanese leading man Toshiro Mifune, “Throne of Blood” is a feudal retelling of “Macbeth,” Shakespeare’s play about an overly ambitious man, his murderous rise to power, and his eventual downfall. Incorporating the mysticism of the original play, Kurosawa’s film is beautifully-realized, often feeling oddly-dreamlike in its sensibilities. It is a gorgeous film that hardcore Shakespeare fans will find exhilarating to watch.
Of course, it feels ridiculous to narrow the entirety of world cinema through the decades down to a simple list of ten, but this is meant to be a gateway. For every one of the films mentioned, there are dozens more in the wings, waiting to dazzle and challenge any filmgoer curious enough to engage with them.
And, hey, these are just my recommendations. I’d love to hear from you in the comments. What foreign films do you recommend? What are some of your favorites?

Popcorn

SMITH: Ten Great Foreign Films To Get You Started

Hollywood

Movies

Parasite

I don’t begrudge any artist having a point of view, or even attempting to express that point of view. Art is all about communication between the artist and audience. The sticking point comes not in the fact of a work of art having a message, but in how that message is expressed. The same goes for film. Film critic Roger Ebert was known to say, “A movie isn’t what it’s about, it’s how it’s about it.” I agree. A film’s tone not only heightens its story, but can actually undercut it, as well. This is certainly the case with Cathy Yan’s “Birds of Prey,” DC’s latest offering in its increasingly-disjointed cinematic universe.
It’s clear from the beginning that the film is attempting to overtly incorporate a feminist message into its story. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this. The message itself is artistically neutral. Some great movies have been feminist in nature, released as recently as Greta Gerwig’s charming and clear-eyed “Little Women” and Patty Jenkins’ inspirational “Wonder Woman.” Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, the ideological goals of “Birds of Prey” begin to cloud the narrative execution, resulting in a film that is so intent on getting its message across that it hits the viewer over the head, not unlike Harley Quinn with her trademark mallet.
While the performers all do their best to breathe life into these stock characters, and the production design is appropriately off-kilter, the film is thematically shallow. In its attempt to champion its female protagonists, it ends up denigrating every last one of its male characters. From the cops to the criminals, and every man in between, this vision of Gotham City is one teeming with misogyny and oppression. Not only do the men of Gotham take credit for women’s achievements, but they are often incompetent and predatory while they’re doing it.
This would be fine if our protagonists were equally flawed – suggesting perhaps that Gotham inevitably corrupts and distorts everybody that inhabits it – but this is not the case. While the men are undeniable monsters, our five female heroes have an inherent purity to them, both in their motives and their methods. What minor flaws they do have are seen as delightful character quirks, meant to endear them to the audience. Consequently, any violence they enact upon their oppressors is clearly seen as justified.
Strange as it may sound, I’m reminded of Harold Cronk’s 2014 faith-based film “God’s Not Dead.” In it, a Christian college student butts heads with his atheist professor. The film was a big hit, but many were frustrated with the depiction of the professor, and of atheists in general. They felt that the character was a straw man, a loathsome antagonist meant to make our main character – and Christians – look better by comparison. I agree wholeheartedly with this assessment and cite it as the film’s primary weakness among many. “God’s Not Dead” attempts to make its protagonist likable not through character development and specificity, but by confronting him with a villain so unabashedly antagonistic and one dimensional that the audience has no choice but to root for him.
It’s the same with “Birds of Prey.” In its desire to get the audience cheering for its female protagonists, it goes the easy – and safe – route of simply surrounding them with male characters so depraved, so selfish, so bumbling that the audience couldn’t possibly see our heroes as anything less than saintly.
Messaging is one thing, but lazy messaging is another. Even the plainest truths contain complexity and nuance. To shave those off in order to more effectively guide the audience toward a theme is to undercut the goal itself. Just as Sigourney Weaver’s “All women are superheroes” comment at the Oscars fails to acknowledge the truly despicable women in the world – and tacitly dismiss genuinely heroic men – so too does “Birds of Prey” choose to go the easy, broad route of making generalized statements, free of subtlety and nuance, ultimately deflating its themes to the point of irrelevance.

Margot Robbie

SMITH: Feminist Messaging In ‘Birds Of Prey’ Lacks Nuance, Flattens Film

Feminism

This time of year, it’s not uncommon for my fellow conservative commentators to discuss the growing disparity between the Oscars and the average moviegoer. They bring up the 2016 winner of Best Picture, “Moonlight,” citing the film’s low box office as a clear example of this division. The Academy chose to proclaim a film that “nobody saw” as the best of the year. Many see this as the latest in a Hollywood trend, referencing the poor financial performance of recent Best Picture winners as proof of the Academy growing further and further out of touch.
As often happens in the conservative assessment of the film industry, the “good old days” are invoked; a time when the most popular movies were often given the coveted Oscar statuette. Past winners like “Ben-Hur” and “The Godfather” were the most successful films of their respective years and 1939’s “Gone with the Wind” is the most successful film of all time (when one takes inflation into account). So when did the Academy begin to stand in opposition to the financial will of the masses?
I think that this actually is the wrong question to ask. Rather than wonder when the opinion-makers stopped rewarding popular films, perhaps we should instead ask when people stopped being interested in better movies?
Yes, yes, I know that such a question will be viewed as somehow elitist, but that doesn’t mean it’s unwarranted. A cursory look at the history of American filmgoing will yield some unexpected results. Take the year 1979. In a year featuring a Bond movie and numerous science fiction outings, one might expect the highest grossing film of the year to be a big budget fantasy or an entry in a beloved franchise.
But no, the most successful film was that year’s Best Picture winner, “Kramer vs. Kramer,” a kitchen sink drama about a divorced father trying to take care of his son. With “Marriage Story” currently nominated for a number of Oscars, it’s not hard to picture a film like this being a modern Academy Awards contender. So that is fairly constant. But does anybody really think that a film like this would even crack the top ten of 2019, let alone be number one?
<div id="attachment_86126" style="width: 2045px" class="wp-caption alignnone"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-86126" loading="lazy" class="wp-image-86126 size-full" src="https://www.dailywire.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/8F7CB3BA-5B06-4F9D-8AC5-FF083715EBD6.jpeg" alt="Actor Dustin Hoffman and actress Meryl Streep smile happily after winning their respective Oscars at the 52nd Annual Academy Awards presentations at the Music Center 4/14. Hoffman won his Oscar for the Best Actor Award for his role in &quot;Kramer vs. Kramer,&quot; and Streep won her Oscar for Best Actress In a Supporting Role for her role in &quot;Kramer vs.Kramer.&quot;" width="2035" height="1145" srcset="https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/8F7CB3BA-5B06-4F9D-8AC5-FF083715EBD6.jpeg 2035w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/8F7CB3BA-5B06-4F9D-8AC5-FF083715EBD6-300x169.jpeg 300w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/8F7CB3BA-5B06-4F9D-8AC5-FF083715EBD6-1024x576.jpeg 1024w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/8F7CB3BA-5B06-4F9D-8AC5-FF083715EBD6-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/8F7CB3BA-5B06-4F9D-8AC5-FF083715EBD6-1536x864.jpeg 1536w" sizes="(max-width: 2035px) 100vw, 2035px" />Photo: Bettmann / Contributor via Getty Images</div>
In 1988, Best Picture went to “Rain Man,” the story of a selfish young man getting to know his mentally disabled brother. It was also the highest grossing film of that year. Another story about an interpersonal relationship, it’s pretty unlikely that a film like this could top the box office these days.
And if we want to go all the way back to the 1940s, 1946 Best Picture winner “The Best Years of Our Lives” was a box office smash, despite it being a three-hour long film about the emotional and financial struggles of World War II veterans. This is hardly the stuff of modern box office dreams, but movies like this are still nominated for Academy Awards.
So what changed? Why is there such a chasm between the Academy and audiences?
The answer, I think, lies less with anything overtly ideological and more with changing technology. As films became more ambitious with their special effects – with movies like “Star Wars” and “Raiders of the Lost Ark” leading the charge – spectacle became big business. And few movies were more spectacular than fantasies. Certainly, period epics like “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Braveheart,” or the aforementioned “Gone with the Wind” were popular, but they were rooted firmly in reality.
With directors like Robert Zemeckis, Steven Spielberg, and James Cameron pushing the boundaries of digital compositing in the 1980s, other worlds could be created and material previously considered too ambitious could finally be mined for box office gold. Richard Donner’s 1979 “Superman” was pitched with the tagline “You will believe a man can fly.” But with digital technology, not only could men fly, but aliens could attack, dinosaurs could return, and Hobbits could trek into Mordor.
<div id="attachment_86124" style="width: 2039px" class="wp-caption alignnone"><img aria-describedby="caption-attachment-86124" loading="lazy" class="size-full wp-image-86124" src="https://www.dailywire.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/E1AB679B-E75C-4917-B049-D3E0815610D7.jpeg" alt="Best Supporting Actor nominee Ian McKellen (L) as Gandalf with Elijah Wood as Frodo." width="2029" height="1141" srcset="https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/E1AB679B-E75C-4917-B049-D3E0815610D7.jpeg 2029w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/E1AB679B-E75C-4917-B049-D3E0815610D7-300x169.jpeg 300w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/E1AB679B-E75C-4917-B049-D3E0815610D7-1024x576.jpeg 1024w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/E1AB679B-E75C-4917-B049-D3E0815610D7-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://dw-wp-production.imgix.net/2020/02/E1AB679B-E75C-4917-B049-D3E0815610D7-1536x864.jpeg 1536w" sizes="(max-width: 2029px) 100vw, 2029px" />Photo by New Line/WireImage via Getty Images</div>
As budgets inflated, it became important for studios to broaden their audiences as much as possible. Bringing in a mere $100 million would no longer suffice. Movies were greenlit with a wider audience in mind, trying to capture a younger demographic, so vital to the box office success of a film. And, just as a little boy will clap his hands and shout “Again, again!,” so younger audiences demanded more, prompting sequel after sequel to be produced.
Before long, remakes, kids movies, and franchise films dominated the box office, until the more adult fare of years past became total non-starters. What once were financially successful would now be touted as “prestige pictures,” made for an older audience looking for some kind of break from the barrage of CGI carnage occupying the multiplexes.
Occasionally, there will be some overlap, as when the Academy rewarded the third “Lord of the Rings” film with Best Picture, Director, and a slew of other awards. And sometimes an Oscar-caliber film will be embraced by a wide audience, such as “American Sniper,” “Hidden Figures,” or “Moneyball.” But, for the most part, the Oscars are doing what they’ve always done: recognize movies for grown-ups that feature thematically and artistically challenging components.
What is “Green Book” if not the latest example of a feel-good interracial buddy film, just like previous winners “In the Heat of the Night” and “Driving Miss Daisy”? “Moonlight” is in the tradition of intimate character portraits like “Marty” and “The Lost Weekend.” And if the current frontrunner “1917” wins Best Picture, it will take its place alongside past war movies like “The English Patient,” “Patton,” “The Bridge on the River Kwai,” and even 1930’s “All Quiet on the Western Front,” a World War I story from the German perspective.
So, as you regard this year’s Academy Awards and lament its dearth of box office hits, please consider that this isn’t a simple case of left-leaning Hollywood removing itself further and further from the mainstream. The current divide between the Academy and the average moviegoer has been steadily growing since the 1980s, the dominance of special effects, and the courting of a younger – less discerning – audience.

Oscars.

SMITH: Maybe The Oscars Aren’t As ‘Out Of Touch’ As People Think

Oscars

Most right-leaning people don’t care about the Academy Awards. I know this because every Oscar night, I see a flurry of Facebook status updates and Twitter posts from my fellow conservatives boldly announcing their disinterest in the awards ceremony (often going out of their way to denounce liberal virtue signaling in a cringe-worthy display of irony).
The Oscars are not very well-regarded in film critic circles either. Many view it as an industry popularity contest in which, with rare exception, the mediocre studio offerings ultimately beat out the more influential and groundbreaking films. From “Citizen Kane” to “Apocalypse Now” to “Saving Private Ryan” to “The Social Network,” Oscar history is littered with unrewarded classics, leading people to wonder why an Academy Award is so important in the first place when it so regularly goes to films and performances of lesser quality.
I find the Oscars valuable mostly for academic purposes. The nominees and winners prove to be an interesting snapshot of their time. One need only look to the nominees from 1976 to get a picture of the changing American culture. “All the President’s Men,” Bound for Glory,” “Network,” and “Taxi Driver” – four films that turned a cynical eye toward the cultural landscape – lost to John G. Avildsen’s “Rocky,” an inspirational film that suggested the American dream was alive and well. The message was clear. After Vietnam and Watergate, the Academy seemed willing to acknowledge the divisions within the country while ultimately affirming its strength and inspiration.
This year has yielded an interesting crop of Best Picture nominees. Some are epic while others are intimate. Some are inspiring while others are cynical. It will be interesting to see what future Oscar historians are able to conclude about our current culture based on these nominees.
Ranked from worst to best – based on my own personal preferences, of course – these are the 2019 nominees for Best Picture.
9. Joker
Despite a truly remarkable performance from Joaquin Phoenix, Todd Philips’ “Joker” is a letdown. The film is directed with the gusto of somebody utterly convinced of his film’s importance, but whose every choice is as broad and obvious as a teenager’s one act play. A film that purports to explore mental illness, it instead exploits it, treating its main character’s sickness not as a genuine tragedy but as a way to morally subsidize his monstrous actions. Covering the well-trod ground of “Taxi Driver” and “Falling Down,” the film’s cliches are elevated by a committed and heartfelt performance from Phoenix, who proves once again that he is one of the most vital and exciting actors working today.
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8. Ford v Ferrari
A rip-roaring good time from director James Mangold, “Ford v Ferrari” is a solidly-made – if overlong – film in the tradition of “Moneyball” and “The Martian.” Featuring enjoyable performances from Matt Damon and Christian Bale, it’s a big budget mainstream American film for grown-ups that also contains subtle themes about uncompromising individualism in the face of corporate assimilation. To put it in car terms, it may not be flashy, but it is sturdy and reliable.
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7. Jojo Rabbit
Director Taika Waititi dips his toe into the tumultuous waters of political satire and emerges with a film that is largely toothless but extremely endearing. With a refreshing manic energy and an appealing cast, Waititi tells the story of Jojo (Roman Griffin Davis), a rabid young Nazi at the end of the war who is so dedicated to the cause that his imaginary friend is none other than Hitler himself. As the soldiers around him resign themselves to an eventual loss, Jojo befriends a young Jewish girl who forces him to question his entire belief system. What it lacks in edginess, it makes up for in heart.
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6. 1917
Since his Oscar win twenty years ago for “American Beauty,” Sam Mendes has reinvented himself as a solid action director, having helmed the two most recent James Bond films. He brings those sensibilities to his real time World War I thriller “1917,” about two British soldiers crossing enemy lines to warn their fellow troops of an impending German trap. With virtuosic camerawork by the ever-exciting Roger Deakins, the film is a cinematic marvel. However, while this technical meticulousness is undeniably impressive, it can keep the viewer at arm’s length. Nonetheless, while so many movies fall into a predictable, by-the-numbers pattern, it’s nice to know there are still films like “1917” out there willing to be ambitious.
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5. Little Women
It must be difficult adapting classic works of literature. Many such adaptations have a tendency to be stodgy and unengaging. Thankfully, Greta Gerwig’s “Little Women” is youthful and vibrant, bringing much-needed energy to Louisa May Alcott’s oft-adapted novel. With a likable ensemble of actors, including Saoirse Ronan, Meryl Streep, Chris Cooper, and Timothee Chalamet, the film remains reverential to the original book while employing modern filmmaking techniques – such as non-linear editing – to make it relatable to the viewer. With now two solid films under her belt – 2017’s “Lady Bird” being her directorial debut – Greta Gerwig has emerged as refreshing new voice in filmmaking.
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4. Marriage Story
It would be easy to watch Noah Baumbach’s “Marriage Story” and see it simply as a stagy, depressing family drama. It is those things, but it is also undeniably human, both in its goals and its execution. It does what too few films do these days; it approaches an all-too familiar aspect of our culture and asks why we’re all so comfortable with it. His story of a young couple’s divorce and bitter custody fight is told with the heartbreak that should accompany the dissolution of a marriage. In a country where divorce has become so commonplace, Baumbach – along with a stellar cast that includes Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson – chooses to reopen that wound to let the audience contemplate the daily tragedy that we’ve long since stopped mourning, but probably should.
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3. The Irishman
For four decades now, Martin Scorsese’s mob films have crackled with exciting and dangerous energy. Scorsese always seemed more interested in recreating the sociopathic, ultraviolent appeal of the gangster lifestyle, choosing to leave the operatic tragedy to Francis Ford Coppola. With his new crime epic “The Irishman,” however, Scorsese has made a film that looks back at a life of crime with introspection and regret. Telling the story of real life mob enforcer Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) and his unlikely friendship with union boss Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), “The Irishman” creates a sense of impending, inevitable doom. Gone is the gleeful, frat boy energy of “Goodfellas” or “Mean Streets”; Scorsese frames the events of Sheeran’s life with a tone of existential disgust. Not since Clint Eastwood made “Unforgiven” has a director worked so hard to recontextualize his previous work. A mature, somber, clear-eyed film from one of history’s best directors.
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2. Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood
Quentin Tarantino has always unapologetically told stories of lowlives and hitmen, underlining the appeal and coolness inherent in that lifestyle. The flashiness of his characters and dialogue has always been his hallmark. But, much like Scorsese, it would seem that Tarantino has chosen to look inward in 2019 and has, in turn, produced a film that is surprisingly meditative, and a bit melancholy. The story of an aging Hollywood star desperate for a comeback could be considered less-than-compelling to most Tarantino fans. But, set against the historical backdrop of the late 1960s and the imminent rise to prominence of Charles Manson, the film begins to take on the epic proportions suggested by its iconic title. In the end, the film is about the desperate, narcissistic, redemptive nature of art and its ability to provide a brief reprieve from the cold, brutal reality we inhabit. A beautiful, elegiac work from one of the unlikeliest of sources, “Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood” marks an astonishing leap forward in Tarantino’s already-formidable career.
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1. Parasite
There is no perfection in art. How could there be? While concepts of aesthetic beauty, realistic fealty, and editing rhythms are tangible, the larger idea of emotional resonance is not. It’s all subjective. As such, critics tend not to use a word like “perfect” when describing a movie; it’s just too definitive. So when I write that Bong Joon Ho’s “Parasite” is perfect, I recognize that it’s not a quantifiable term, but an instinctive one. Every choice that the director makes seems so complete in itself, yet such an intrinsic part of the larger whole, that it’s hard to discuss any single element of his film by itself. The deliberate editing and camerawork help to fully realize the story of a poor South Korean family meticulously infiltrating the home of a well-meaning rich family. This long con requires multiple layers of deceit, underneath which lies a deep-seated insecurity and fear, which the actors pull off beautifully. The film manages to operate as a thriller, a drama, and a comedy all at once, modulating these different components according to the requirements of each narrative beat. The final product is a film that is tremendously entertaining, coldly intelligent, and deeply emotional. It being a South Korean film, many Americans likely won’t watch it. Those who do, though, will be treated to a well-crafted, engaging film that, if not perfect, is still a genuine masterpiece.
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So there you have it! My rankings of the Best Picture nominees. Of course, I can only rank the ones that are there. I’d gladly include “Uncut Gems,” “Ad Astra,” and “A Hidden Life” into the discussion, but I’m sadly prevented by the Academy from doing so. Nonetheless, it’s a pretty solid slate of films.
What are some of your favorite films of 2019? Whom are you rooting for – if anybody – at this year’s Oscars? Leave your comments below!

SMITH: Ranking The Best Picture Nominees

Joker

In a recent <a href="https://www.salon.com/2020/01/10/1917-nationalism-wwi-trump/">Salon article</a>, writer Matthew Rozsa criticizes the new World War I drama “1917,” directed by Sam Mendes. Rozsa’s primary issue with the film isn’t artistic, however, but political. He feels that the movie is too nationalistic and that it doesn’t do the thematic heavy lifting required of a modern war movie.
Rozsa states that the Great War didn’t necessarily spring from a larger, black and white issue – such as slavery or fascism – but instead from different countries attempting to assert their own dominance. As such, claims the author, any WWI story – like “1917” – told from the perspective of a single country is perpetuating a dangerous mindset; one that assumes the superiority of one’s own country. In other words, a movie like “1917” has a responsibility to think globally, even as it tells a limited story.
Of course, Rozsa is entitled to his opinion. We all have ideas of what a movie should or shouldn’t do, especially when it falls into a specific genre, such as horror or, in this case, war. But, of course, just because we have opinions doesn’t mean they’re valid, particularly if they start to become prescriptive. Suddenly, a personal preference becomes the ultimate standard by which a movie is measured and, if it falls short, we rob ourselves of the opportunity to engage with a movie on its own terms.
Early in the article, Rozsa writes, “Any film set during that conflict has a responsibility to account for the horrors of nationalism, much as a film that takes place during the Civil War must deal with slavery, and one that occurs during World War II must acknowledge fascism.” While I agree that for certain movies to ignore overriding themes or events can be less artistically satisfying than if they acknowledged them, I really dislike the schoolmarmish tone that Rozsa strikes here. He is attempting to dictate how any film that has the temerity to take place at a certain time in history should go about portraying that period, and he does this from a place of assumed 20/20 hindsight. When we have a clearer view of history, surely a filmmaker should try to incorporate that view into their work, right?
Film critic Roger Ebert, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSzP9YV3jbc">when defending</a> the Asian American-centered film “Better Luck Tomorrow” against the claim that the film should do a better job representing its demographic, bellowed out, “Asian American characters have the right to be whoever the hell they want to be! They do not have to ‘represent’ their people!” What Ebert was advocating for was the right of a filmmaker – any artist, really – to have their own point of view, limited though it may be.
When writers like Rozsa, who would appear to approach art first through the lens of politics, insist that a movie has a responsibility to “account for the horrors of nationalism” or “deal with slavery” or “acknowledge fascism,” I’m reminded of that wonderful quote from Roger Ebert. Sure, we may prefer that movies discuss their subjects a certain way, but a director is under no obligation to do so. To require a movie to approach its material the way we’d like is to ignore the notion that a filmmaker may actually have a reason for not doing so.
Many of the best movies ever made have willfully omitted certain facts or different points of view in order to better express the opinions of the filmmaker. This is the very nature of art. We may like it; we may not. But it’s this kind of variety – the opportunity to allow an artist to do something we may not agree with – that makes art so valuable. It is about engagement between the artist and audience, who may have differing opinions. A film has the right to be whatever the hell it wants to be. And the day that art is only considered acceptable when it affirms a pre-approved narrative is the day that art is rendered pointless.

“1917” film.

SMITH: Salon Writer’s Criticism of ‘1917’ Is Ridiculous

Salon

In a <a href="https://www.dailywire.com/news/director-terry-gilliam-says-hes-tired-of-white-men-being-blamed-for-everything-that-is-wrong-with-the-world">recent interview</a>, film director Terry Gilliam commented on his reluctance to embrace the #MeToo movement, referring to it as a “witch hunt.” This view certainly sets him apart from his peers in Hollywood, but that’s really nothing new for Gilliam. He’s always been a little different. The lone American member of Monty Python, Gilliam is an accomplished provocateur and, while I’m fairly certain his politics probably don’t line up with mine, his tolerance for mob mentality is extremely limited. He makes movies about loners and misfits who, like Gilliam himself, operate well outside the mainstream. Among his filmography are cult classics like “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” and “Time Bandits,” and Oscar-worthy fare such as “The Fisher King” and “12 Monkeys.”
But perhaps Gilliam’s greatest cinematic achievement is his 1985 science fiction film “Brazil.” The story of a naive dreamer oppressed by an authoritarian government will likely sound familiar to most, as it is the core idea behind George Orwell’s iconic “1984.” While obviously inspired by that novel, Gilliam here chooses to embrace his comedy roots and find the absurdity within the darkness, playing up the soul-crushing farce at the core of governmental bureaucracy. The result is a film akin to Stanley Kubrick’s “Dr. Strangelove,” acknowledging the humor amidst horror, bringing the inherent despair to the surface in a way that a straightforward drama never could.
“Brazil” features a premise that many conservatives will appreciate. While many science fiction films like “Alien” and “RoboCop” focus on the inhumanity of corporate greed, Gilliam instead presents the smiling evil of a government with absolute control over its populace. From the drudgery of endless paperwork (“This is your receipt… and this is my receipt for your receipt”) to the chilling assumption of government inerrancy (“Mistakes? We don’t make mistakes”), “Brazil” shows us a world where individualism is constantly, cheerfully suppressed in favor of mindless, banal provision.
Featuring delightful performances from Jonathan Pryce, Ian Holm, and Gilliam’s Python cohort Michael Palin, the nervous politeness of the characters underscores the complete lack of any real personality within this cold, gray world. There is no passion, no romance, no adventure. Everything that we yearn for – the things that make us human – is ignored by this government, replaced by comfort and safety. Of course, should any citizen decide that they’re not totally satisfied with what has been generously provided for them by their leaders, there is the ever-present threat of government force looming over the proceedings.
With “Brazil,” Terry Gilliam provides a funny, fascinating, but ultimately quite depressing image of an ever-growing government that would appear to care for its citizens, but is actually much more interested in retaining its own power. It is a cautionary tale about the travails of being an individual in an increasingly-monolithic society, where refusing to simply go along with the appearance of tranquility and tolerance can get you, shall we say, cancelled.
It is a brilliant film, and one that deserves to be revisited. Because, though it is now thirty-five years old, its themes are more relevant than ever.

“Brazil.”

SMITH: A Film For Conservatives In Terry Gilliam’s ‘Brazil’

Terry Gilliam

With the recent release of J.J. Abrams’ “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker,” people have been reflecting on the newest trilogy as a whole, with many agreeing that it has fallen far short of expectations. Upon viewing the trailer for “The Force Awakens” in 2015, people were enthusiastic for a return to form, hoping to wash the taste of the prequels out of their mouths.
Now that the new trilogy is complete, the one thing that both “Star Wars” boosters and detractors agree upon is the frustrating lack of planning on the part of producer Kathleen Kennedy. Where the Disney-owned Marvel Cinematic Universe had a truly satisfying payoff with “Infinity War” and “Endgame,” the “Star Wars” films seem to constantly be in a state of correction, with Rian Johnson subverting Abrams’ “Force Awakens” story points and Abrams attempting to undercut those subversions. Taking the trilogy as a whole, the project seems to be at war with itself, with many fans pointing to “The Last Jedi” as the primary instigator.
Hardcore fans were livid at Rian Johnson’s attempts to incorporate deeper themes into the “Star Wars” universe, feeling that his story developments were more indicative of contempt than a genuine desire to engage the audience. Any time a filmmaker tries to explore a genre or franchise, breaking down the story beats and character motivations, there is going to be pushback from the faithful (just check out horror fans’ response to Drew Goddard’s “<a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://6">The Cabin in the Woods</a>” for further proof).
Some critics praised Johnson for trying something new, while others felt that he didn’t truly understand the spirit of the series. Both groups have a right to their own perspective, but the subversion of expectations is, on its own, a neutral concept. Like any other creative decision, when assessing the final product, we must first take the filmmaker’s intention into account. Were Johnson’s decisions deliberate or scattershot? Was he being disrespectful or measured? These are the types of questions we ask and, in trying to ascertain Johnson’s goals, we find a director who sees untapped story and thematic potential in the “Star Wars” universe, and his desperate attempts to tap into that in a way that is unique and effective.
Many have looked first to Johnson’s conception of Luke Skywalker as proof that the director didn’t fully comprehend the material. They look at this older, grizzled, cynical Skywalker and are horrified at the notion that the hero of the original trilogy could ever turn out this way. It seems that they wanted something a little closer to Alec Guinness’ Obi Wan Kenobi from “A New Hope”: the picture of wisdom and benevolence. While this may have been satisfying in one way, I always liked the idea that several decades of being considered a legend and a hero could actually make one more aware of one’s shortcomings, not less. Luke may have been the savior of the galaxy, but then what? How does one follow that up?
In many ways, it makes sense that Luke would go on to live like a hermit. If he doesn’t have to interact with anybody, he can’t let them down. He no longer has to worry about living up to the galactic reputation of Luke Skywalker and can instead live in peace, becoming more and more aware of the destructive nature of hero-worship.
In fact, it is Luke’s understanding of his own image that allows him to so thoroughly fool Kylo Ren and the rest of the First Order. They are so focused on destroying the legendary Luke Skywalker that they fail to see the rest of the Resistance beating a strategic retreat. If Ren had accepted that Luke was just a man &#8212; a very powerful man, true, but still just one man &#8212; he could have taken a broader view of the battle and kept the other Resistance fighters from escaping. But, like everybody else, he was so wrapped up in Skywalker’s reputation that he was oblivious to anything else, or he just willfully ignored it. Some may not like the idea of using “Star Wars” to comment on the concept of blind mythologizing, but I’d say it’s the perfect arena in which to do so, as the hardcore fans have shown themselves so transfixed by it that many are openly disdainful of other film franchises.
I also responded very favorably to Johnson’s decision to discount Rey’s lineage, saying indisputably that she comes from nowhere. There is nothing inherently important about her. This is something that Abrams would walk back in the next film, revealing Rey’s bloodline to be very important and deeply powerful. While I do understand the frustration that most fans have about Rey’s innate Force abilities, the attempt to explain that away through lineage undercuts something that I found very exciting and, frankly, very American.
Economist Milton Friedman once said that America is a “family culture,” suggesting that the American Dream is as much about making life better for one’s family as for the person himself. I would agree with this, but there is still a strain of individualism in our DNA that encourages people to push themselves beyond their own limitations, regardless of their initial station in life. The idea that Rey can be resourceful and smart and strong despite her background is, to me, much more exciting and inspiring than a character who is all of those things because of her background. Yes, I understand that this could make Rey into a “Mary Sue,” but I’m personally willing to accept that if it reinforces the idea that, here in America, a person can determine his own significance, regardless of bloodline.
There are many other elements in “The Last Jedi” that worked for me, including the suggestion that one of the major sacrifices made during wartime is personal pride and glory, but the creative decisions that Johnson made with Luke and Rey are what really stand out in my mind. A person may not agree, and indeed may feel that Johnson was disrespectful to the beloved franchise, but it would be foolish to dismiss his choices outright. The film is certainly not perfect (the less said about the tension-dissolving Monte Carlo sequence, the better), but the director’s choices were not haphazard. They were risky, but considered, and they deserved better treatment than they received, both by the fans and the franchise.
As always, this is just one man’s opinion. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments, not just on “The Last Jedi” or “The Rise of Skywalker,” but the general state of “Star Wars.” Did you like the new films or hate them? Or did you fall somewhere in between? What is your history with the “Star Wars” films? The best film criticism usually comes out of thoughtful discussion.

The Last Jedi.

SMITH: Rethinking ‘The Last Jedi’

Disney

J.J. Abrams

Star Wars

What a fascinating decade it’s been, both in real life and in the movies. We saw the Avengers assemble and Star Wars strike back. The exposure of Harvey Weinstein’s harassment led to a toppling house of cards that revealed a deep brokenness in Hollywood’s power structure. Streaming services exploded, to the point that many now feel overwhelmed by the number of options.
Fandom became divided over politics in film, with some on the Left viewing movies as a microphone with which to get their message out, and many on the Right turning their backs on the film industry completely. As a conservative film critic, it has been fascinating – and often discouraging – to see the trends in film discussion, as people on all sides dismiss any movie that even hints at an opposing viewpoint, regardless of artistry.
Nonetheless, some truly amazing films have been released in the last ten years, both at home and abroad. Many of these movies affected me on an emotional, intellectual, and even spiritual level. It has been hard compiling my favorite movies of the decade, but after some heartbreaking decisions, I’ve finally put together a list of ten amazing movies that run the gamut of human experience.
10. The Place Beyond the Pines (2013)
A film that manages to be both straightforward yet oddly dreamlike, this film by Derek Cianfrance stars Ryan Gosling and Bradley Cooper, along with a stable of great character actors. The lives of a novice bank robber and an ambitious cop crash violently into each other, with ramifications that echo into the next generation. An engrossing meditation on the ghosts of the past and our decision to let them dictate our actions in the present, “The Place Beyond the Pines” is an intimate film of epic proportions.
9. Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
With so many modern action movies feeling pre-packaged and safe, George Miller brought Mad Max screaming into the 21st century with this messy, relentless wrecking ball of a movie. In this film, Max – now played by Tom Hardy – witnesses the liberation of a tyrant’s concubines and the furious attempts to get them back. The constant forward momentum of the film, along with the gritty, fully-realized world that Miller creates, elevates a fairly familiar story to something that is horrifying, inspiring, wearying, and invigorating.
8. The Other Side of the Wind (2018)
Orson Welles may have died in 1985, but he left behind an unfinished passion project; a puzzle of footage just waiting to be assembled. Using Welles’ notes, several collaborators worked for years to piece together “The Other Side of the Wind” just as Welles wanted it. The result is a manic fever dream of faux documentary footage taking place in a single day in the life of an eccentric, Hemingway-esque director, played with affected gusto by John Huston. It is a film that is oddly prescient in its depiction of an overly-documented world full of narcissists, yet oddly personal in its portrayal of loneliness in the midst of chaos.
7. Whiplash (2014)
Director Damien Chazelle burst onto the scene with this scrappy, stressful manifesto about the cost of greatness. Following a young music student (Miles Teller) who is tapped to join the jazz band of an abusive taskmaster (J.K. Simmons, in an Oscar-winning role), the film puts our main character and the audience through the emotional ringer. The film has a coldly efficient pacing, as an alarming co-dependent relationship forms between teacher and student, leading the viewer to debate within himself what true greatness is worth.
6. Force Majeure (2014)
With all the recent talk about gender roles, Ruben Östlund’s pitch black domestic comedy has grown more relevant since its release. A family on a ski vacation must confront their feelings for each other after surviving an avalanche, resulting in quiet meditations and histrionic accusations. At the core of it all is a mystery, not just about who did what when, but about the expectations that men and women have of each other, and what we do when we fail to meet them.
5. The Act of Killing (2012)
“History is written by the winners,” as the saying goes. And in Joshua Oppenheimer’s harrowing documentary, the winners in Indonesia appear to be the country’s most savage politicians and gangsters. The director helps these men write their own history, as they reenact the terrible crimes they committed on their way to power. This leads to some of the most absurd, delusional short films ever conceived, leading to a surprising conclusion, which suggests that even the most monstrous among us can’t escape their own guilty consciences.
4. Under the Skin (2014)
Saturated with ominous style and an unsettling tone, Jonathan Glazer’s ambient horror film follows an alien disguised as an attractive woman, played with cold determination by Scarlett Johansson. As she goes about harvesting the innards of easily-tempted young men, her curiosity about the human condition grows until she learns the true meaning of empathy. Featuring a haunting score by Mika Levi, “Under the Skin” is both undeniably creepy and unabashedly humanistic at the same time.
3. A Separation (2011)
It’s hard to believe that one of the best movies of the last ten years is also one of the most minimalist. Asghar Farhadi tells the story of a put-upon Iranian couple as their relationship devolves into paranoia and resentment after a devastating accident. With no music to underscore the emotions, Farhadi relies on the focused screenplay and restrained performances to draw in the audience. The result is an intense docudrama that toys with subjectivity and the role that it plays in the social contract.
2. The Tree of Life (2011)
If any movie could ever approximate God’s perspective of the world, this ambitious portrait of a midwestern family is it. Many will find the whispered inner thoughts of our main character – a young boy on the cusp of adolescence – to be distancing, and many others will be outright dumbfounded by director Terrence Malick’s inclusion of the creation and evolution of our physical world. At first, these images may seem to have nothing to do with each other, but by showing the intimate and the cosmic, Malick emphasizes both the insignificance and vitality of the individual in the grand scheme of things. If you’re a person of faith, as I am, this film helps to visualize the sheer grandness of the Almighty while providing the comforting thought that the same God who created the heavens and the earth is still interested in the daily struggles of His people. An unforgettable film.
1. Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
Anybody that has ever experienced grief knows just how surreal and isolating it can be. In this strange and beautiful film by Joel and Ethan Coen, talented folk singer Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) attempts to navigate his life after the sudden death of his songwriting partner. While only occasionally referencing his loss, Llewyn is clearly rudderless, looking for any kind of professional or relational stability, often being met with antagonism by those around him. Given that Joel and Ethan Coen have always been each other’s most reliable artistic muses, the story of one half of a duo suddenly forced to fend for himself may reveal “Inside Llewyn Davis” to be among the most personal of the Coen Brothers’ films.
So there you have it! My ten favorite films of the decade.
Of course, with any list, there are going to be omissions, often infuriating those whose favorite films were left off. So feel free to leave your own favorite films of the 2010s in the comments below!

Movie theater.

SMITH: Top Ten Movies Of The 2010s

Warning: The following review contains some mild spoilers.
At this point in the Star Wars franchise, what started in 2015 as intense eagerness amongst the moviegoing public has slowly turned into a mild curiosity at best and a resentful obligation at worst.
So many people, whether they enjoyed The Last Jedi or not, view the final film in the latest trilogy, The Rise of Skywalker, with exhausted trepidation; a weary desire to get some kind of closure. And it appears that director J.J. Abrams sensed this — not that it was particularly subtle — and has obliged by creating a film that is so focused on tying up loose ends that it often feels perfunctory.
Through rushed scenes, last minute developments, and astonishingly clumsy exposition, Abrams attempts to undo the perceived damage done to the mythology by the previous film while also giving every character as satisfying an arc as he can, all while trying to keep the events exciting and fresh.
This many spinning plates would be difficult for even the best directors; Abrams, a reliable journeyman but hardly an engaging auteur, does his best, but mostly loses control of the juggernaut that The Rise of Skywalker was always destined to be.
The story picks up with the sudden — and arbitrary — return of Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid), previously thought to be dead but now tempting Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) with promises of immense, galaxy-destroying power. All Ren needs to do in return is kill Rey (Daisy Ridley), who poses an unspoken threat to Palpatine.
Meanwhile, the Resistance attempts to gain ground in their fight against the First Order, with scrappy ex-storm trooper Finn (John Boyega) and cocky pilot Poe (Oscar Isaac) leading the charge.
All of this is shown with the harried pace of a waiter trying to take care of too many customers. We never get the chance to digest the information presented to us in one scene because we’ve quickly transitioned to another.
As the film finally settles into a more manageable rhythm, and we finally get room to breathe, we are able to more fully appreciate what the actors are doing. Delivering the dialogue — which rarely rises above mere functionality — with conviction and energy, the cast does what it can to guide the audience through the maze of exposition, indicating how we should react to every new development.
Unsurprisingly, Driver and Ridley fare the best here, largely due to a depth of emotion that each bring to their characters. Both Kylo Ren and Rey are intensely tormented, one by the evil he has done in the past and the other by the evil she might do in the future. As has been the case throughout the recent films, when these two characters share the screen, their chemistry holds our attention in a way that the rest of the film simply doesn’t.
It is the brief lightsaber duels between Kylo Ren and Rey that work best, because they are imbued with real meaning by the actors. The rest of the action, while well-conceived, doesn’t really bring anything new to the series.
When it comes right down to it, when you’ve seen one Star Wars space battle, you’ve really seen them all. And though Abrams’ talent for iconography serves him well here — most notably when demonstrating the sheer size and power of the First Order — the resulting action scenes devolve into pretty standard, CGI-driven predictability.
The Rise of Skywalker features plenty of fan service, some of it effective, some of it not. The reintroduction of Palpatine never has the weight that it really should, and his presence ultimately feels like an afterthought — a Hail Mary inclusion to give the events of the film a more dire sense of importance. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of the always-dependable Ian McDiarmid, Palpatine seems less like the Machiavellian monster of the earlier films and much more like the generic cosmic villains we would find in some of the lesser Marvel movies.
Abrams also dusted off Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams), the untrustworthy scoundrel first seen in The Empire Strikes Back, and presses him into action. Sadly, Lando is mostly underutilized in this film, his appearance amounting to little more than a cameo. Still, his on-screen time is more effective than that of the new characters introduced here, including a random freedom fighter named Jannah (Naomi Ackie) and a droid whose sole purpose likely has more to do with toy sales than anything involving the actual story.
But such is the difficulty of a movie like The Rise of Skywalker. It must balance the old and the new, hopefully pleasing the most loyal fans and the casual viewer. This is a tall order, so it only makes sense for Abrams to step lightly, which he most certainly does.
Gone is the thematic complexity of The Last Jedi or the fatalism of Rogue One. To follow in those films’ footsteps is to risk alienating important segments of the audience. So J.J. Abrams and Disney choose to play it safe, and the resulting film is pleasant enough, but “safe and pleasant” isn’t exactly memorable.
The original Star Wars films — especially the first two — swung for the fences. Even George Lucas’ ill-conceived prequels had a bold, singular vision, misguided though it was. The problems with this film, however, are those inherent with any expensive, committee-driven, focused-grouped product: it takes no risks. And, as the saying goes, “No risk, no reward.”
As such, with The Rise of Skywalker being so averse to challenging its audience and instead settling for by-the-numbers, predictable storytelling, the result is one of the least rewarding cinematic experiences I’ve had in some time.

Rise of Skywalker

REVIEW: ‘Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker’ Plays It Safe, Loses The Vision

I’ve always considered journalism to be a noble profession. A career spent digging through false leads and trivia in order to get to the truth of a story must be pretty harrowing at times. In some countries, this actually puts journalists in mortal danger. But, in the end, it’s worth it, because they’re helping to get the word out about important stories. Indeed, it is a noble and vital profession.
This is not to suggest, however, that those who would go into this profession are inherently noble. Like anybody else, journalists often fall prey to the temptations of laziness, bias, and sometimes outright lies. These particular journalists are the reason that the mainstream media has become less and less trustworthy through the decades, as old-fashioned reporting has taken a backseat to political activism and narrative-pushing in the guise of journalistic respectability.
With Clint Eastwood’s new film Richard Jewell, the iconic director dramatizes an historical instance in which the media — for reasons of convenience and sensationalism — got the story horrendously wrong. During the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta, a security guard named Richard Jewell found a bomb planted at Centennial Park and quickly alerted the authorities and helped save hundreds of lives. He was hailed as a hero, but was quickly targeted — first by the FBI and subsequently by the media itself — as the prime suspect. The single, overweight Jewell lived with his mother and was quickly labeled a loser; a wannabe cop who was looking for an opportunity to be a hero. Jewell fit a specific type, and the media ran with the story. The problem, of course, was that the story wasn’t true, and Jewell actually was the hero he was initially made out to be.
Eastwood’s decision to put out a movie about this egregious example of an overeager media has been met with resistance from people who see the film as a piece of propaganda for the Trump administration, which regularly calls out the media as “fake news.” And while the timing of the release may well be politically motivated (what movie isn’t these days?), the film is simply the latest in a long line of movies that are willing to grapple with the potential dishonesty and sensationalism of the media.
For those who might be ideologically sympathetic to Eastwood’s goals with the film, here is a list of previously released films that took the press to task.
Shattered Glass (2003) — Written and directed by Billy Ray, the screenwriter of Richard Jewell, this film tells the story of Stephen Glass, the entertaining wunderkind of The New Republic whose popular human interest stories were soon revealed to be completely fabricated. As the newly minted editor at The New Republic conducts an internal investigation, the film explores not only why Glass would so brazenly lie to his bosses, co-workers, and the public at large, but also the environment in which he could get away with it for so long. Featuring solid performances from Hayden Christiansen and Peter Sarsgard, this film tells another true story of media sensationalism winning out over journalistic integrity.
Network (1976) — Conceived by the endearingly acidic Paddy Chayefsky, this over-the-top satire tells the story of an anchorman slowly losing his mind and the executives and producers who see ratings potential in his meltdown. As the executives justify their actions by claiming to be “tapping into the popular rage” of a post-Watergate culture, Network predicted much of the modern hysteria that we find whenever we turn on the news, from the cynical executives to the self-righteous talent to the viewers that allow themselves to be so thoroughly manipulated. A cautionary tale that proved to be unnervingly prescient.
Absence of Malice (1981) — Directed with the straightforward tone that would become his hallmark, Sydney Pollack tells the story of a legitimate businessman whose life is put through the ringer when an overeager Miami reporter writes a story implicating the businessman in the murder of a union official. The investigation that follows is a labyrinthine exercise in corruption, extortion, and politics, all couched in a surprisingly poignant debate about the First Amendment. The film suggests that the media — sometimes knowing, sometimes not — can be used as an effective weapon by those in power, requiring caution by those journalists and editors whose pursuit of a good story can blind them to their own exploitation.
Ace in the Hole (1951) — Having made one of the quintessential Hollywood takedowns the year before, director Billy Wilder decided to turn his sights on the world of journalism, represented here by a smug, smirking Kirk Douglas. A down-on-his-luck reporter sees the opportunity to get back on top when a small town resident is trapped in a nearby cave. The reporter manipulates the local authorities into drawing out the rescue operation while simultaneously getting close to the trapped man, effectively giving himself exclusive access to the unfolding story. Like Network, Ace in the Hole foretold later developments in the media, whose 24-hour news cycle operates best when propped up by an ongoing story, and suggested that some journalists are more comfortable making the news than simply reporting it.
Inherit the Wind (1960) — It may seem counterintuitive — especially to more religious readers — to recommend Stanley Kramer’s fictionalized retelling of the Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925, but it is a well-written, brilliantly acted film, starring Spencer Tracy and the always-reliable Fredric March. Despite those heavy-hitters, it is the Gene Kelly role of haughty reporter E.K. Hornbeck that really stands out to me. While the film is none too kind to the creationism-supporting Matthew Harrison Brady (March), its real scorn is reserved for Hornbeck, who demonstrates a flagrant bias in reporting the story. The readiness with which Hornbeck editorializes and shows real contempt for more traditional-minded Americans slowly alienates everybody in the film, including those that would seemingly be on his side. The image of “journalist as self-important, narcissistic, would-be kingmaker” is one of the more damning portraits of the media in film.
Of course, there are plenty of examples of films that would seek to canonize journalists — rightly in films like All the President’s Men and wrongly in the Dan Rather apologia Truth — but there is something extremely satisfying about a movie that is willing to take a hard look at the potential pitfalls of journalism. And in the current climate — with a media that is so averse to introspection — it can also be pretty refreshing.
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