The handsome Good Night, and Good Luck is a joy to behold but short on ideas, drama, and humanity. It ends up being a dull film documenting the dull work of dull television journalists, when it really wants to be a sober but nostalgic reminder of heroic muckrakers bringing down the big bad bigot of the Red Scare. Perhaps most crucially, as a lesson for our times it’s a deeply flawed comparison.
I’m about 15 years late to this party, but I’ve always planned to write a lengthy piece on my love for Oliver Stone’s JFK. My point would simply be that whatever its failings as a credible history (or even a viable alternative history), JFK excels as propaganda, and should be studied for that reason. In a 1993 essay in The Atlantic, Edward Jay Epstein does a good job explaining Stone’s methods.
The Constant Gardener is about a guy who finally finds a spine. And he’s part of a film that never does.
As a screed against George W. Bush to justify the feelings, suspicions, and thoughts of people who already dislike the president and plan on voting against him in November, Fahrenheit 9/11 is strikingly effective. But as propaganda – as a compelling case to convince undecided voters and GOP loyalists that Bush needs to be voted out of office – Michael Moore’s movie is an utter failure.
As someone who has made the “slippery slope” argument on the implications of legalized gay marriage, it was refreshing to see my friend Dahlia pick it apart.
Because I believe dead horses should be beaten, Snob heroine Dahlia Lithwick writes an amusing but bitter piece on the topic of the U.S. Supreme Court and the death penalty.
Slate’s Dahlia Lithwick is my favorite legal writer, because she invariably cuts through the bullshit and makes the U.S. Supreme Court sound fun and catty. She’s also excellent at clearly laying out the issues of a case and talking about it both legal and practical terms. Yesterday’s dispatch on the words “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance is a perfect example.
It’s imperative that we indulge our grief, anger, and even hatred, and it’s equally important that we shed those things, however briefly, as we consider our individual and collective responses. Anger is natural. It’s what we do with it that tells us whom we are.
Michael Moore’s divisive Bowling for Columbine is ingeniously critic-proof. If one complains about the politics of the movie, one if branded a right-winger. If one complains about fact-fudging or fairness, one is accused of missing the point.
