Samizdata

The film Miami Vice has been panned by the critics here in Britain, but I thought it was OK. The critics said the dialogue was hard to follow and it is true that the actors (like so many Hollywood folk today) forget the basic rule of “project, dear boy, project”.

However, modern films tend to be designed for a young audience (they are the people who buy most of the tickets)not for middle aged people like me (or most critics). The young simply have better hearing, and (much though it hurts to admit it) pick up things faster, they will have worked out what is going on in a scene seconds before someone my age will.

So if you are middle aged and decide to go and see this film you are going to have to concentrate (or be confused like the critics) – even though the young person next to you can watch the film without concentrating and still know what is going on. There are plot holes in the film, but it is still an effective (and quite intelligent) action movie.

However, the little touches of political correctness in the film did irritate me.

For example, a white racist group is shown. One of the characters actually asks why they would be involved in a major international drug enterprise – and it never is explained why the major drug players have got these people involved (white racists do indeed deal drugs – but they are small players, major players would not cross the street to piss on them). It was just an excuse for the standard Hollywood “look, evil white racists” bit.

Also it is mentioned, at one point, that some of the drugs come from the “right wing AUC in Colombia”, the AUC does indeed supply drugs (one of the founders of the AUC was tortured to death only last year for objecting to this) – but the (Marxist) FARC supplies far more drugs – why were they not mentioned?

Then one of the characters (who is pretending to be a drug transporter) says that he should not visit Cuba because “the Cubans do not like my business”… as if the Castro family had not been massive players in the drug trade for several decades.

In the credits at the end of the film I noted that one company was called “Che Guevara” pictures (or something). I suppose “Che” might have been amused by people choosing to name a private company after him (although he would still have killed of them of course). But is not about time the Hollywood crowd grew up?

With all the disturbing developments going on in the world this week, it is a surprise to see that Mel Gibson’s drunken antics on the weekend captured so much attention. Neither his drinking habits nor his anti-Semitic views were secret; however, the timing of this latest escapade has meant that reams of newspaper space and gigabytes of bandwidth have been devoted to discussing this.

The wider question that may be asked was well put by Ann Althouse:

Gibson, on the other hand, has revealed something loathsome about his mind that affects our interpretation of the works of art that sprang from that mind. In particular, it changes “The Passion of the Christ,” which had to be defended at the time of its release from charges that it is anti-Semitic.

I did not see anything particularly anti-Semitic in that movie, myself, but I was not looking for it either. The violence of the movie left a more profound reaction on me then anything else.

In any event, there is nothing new in artistic and creatively talented people having repulsive political views or social habits, as Andrew Norton points out:

Personally, I’d want nothing to do with people who are anti-Semites. But is judging people in the arts by their social and political views a sustainable proposition? Should we not listen to Wagner’s music because he was an anti-Semite? Or if Wagner’s anti-Semitism is too much to take, how about T.S. Eliot, described as “lightly anti-Semitic in the sort of vague way which is not uncommon.” (Does being “not uncommon” make it better or worse?). And how about Philip Larkin, whose poetry I like? This appeared in a recent review of books by and about Larkin:

They [Larkin’s letters] are also in many instances extremely funny, if appallingly so. Larkin’s latest biographer, Richard Bradford, gives a representative sample of the kind of things with which Larkin the letter-writer sought to amuse his friends: He complained to [Kingsley] Amis in 1943…that “all women are stupid beings” and remarked in 1983 that he’d recently accompanied Monica [Jones] to a hospital “staffed ENTIRELY by wogs, cheerful and incompetent.” …His views on politics and class seemed to be pithily captured in a ditty he shared again with Amis. “I want to see them starving,/The so-called working class,/Their wages yearly halving,/Their women stewing grass…” For recreation he apparently found time for pornography, preferably with a hint of sado-masochism: “…I mean like WATCHING SCHOOLGIRLS SUCK EACH OTHER OFF WHILE YOU WHIP THEM.”[8] Although it is not much of a defense, one might say of Larkin that he was the victim of what our teacher-priests used to call “bad companions.”

Even as a joke, and even if prompted by ‘bad companions’, it doesn’t make Larkin look good. Unfortunately, however, I think it is entirely unrealistic to expect artistic and literary types to have attractive social and political views. While our local luvvies haven’t come up with anything as bad as Gibson (and now, of course, we think he is definitely an American) they are more than slightly prone to foolish utterances. It’s almost as if the analytical and careful thinking that leads to political views worth considering and the emotional insight and flights of imagination that lead to good art are mutually exclusive.

And of course, Hollywood and the wider literary-arts- musical establishment has been filled for years with people who have had pro-communist sympathies. Sadly, the notion that it is beyond the pale to support murderous ideologies of the left have never really taken hold in our wider society. For the thoughtful person who peruses their cultural interests, there is nothing for it but to hold one’s nose. Maybe one day artists will be judged by the content of their character, but I won’t be holding my breathe.