Obama's 'We the People' Netflix Series: A Review

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 19 seconds

Obama’s well-intentioned ‘We the People’ Netflix series aims to teach kids about the promise of America…the promise he failed to keep.

Like Obama, the series is more forgettable and phony than it is enlightening and entertaining.

On the Fourth of July Barack and Michelle Obama gifted the American public We the People, their new Netflix series aimed to give kids a fun and entertaining lesson in civics.

The series is a collection of ten short animated music videos featuring pop stars like H.E.R., Janelle Monae, Adam Lambert and Brandi Carlisle among others singing about such topics as The Bill of Rights, Taxes, The Three Branches of Government, Immigration and more.

The series is obviously an attempt to update the classic Schoolhouse Rock! animated shorts from the 1970’s that educated young Gen Xers on much the same topics with informative earworms like “I’m Just a Bill”.

The problem with We the People, especially in comparison to Schoolhouse Rock!, is that the songs are a dismal collection of entirely forgettable numbers and the animation is more high-end but much less effective.

With eye-rollingly banal lyrics like “little homie you better pay your taxes” from Cordae in episode 3 - “Taxes”, the entire series feels less like a useful educational tool for kids than a useful way for pop celebrities to signal their political virtue.

Speaking of signaling non-existent virtue, Barrack Obama, the man who used the Espionage Act twice as much as all other presidents combined in order to stifle the press during his presidency, producing a series that unreservedly cheers the constitutional protection of freedom of the press is, to say the least, shameless.

And when the lyric “the government works for you and me” was sung in episode two I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a seizure considering Obama not only supported bail outs of Wall Street at the expense of Main Street, but also protected bankers from prosecution. He also used extra-judicial means to assassinate American citizens, and left the hard-working people of Flint, Michigan drink poisoned water and be used as military target practice. Obama’s administration, like all the ones before and after, worked for Wall St., the military-intelligence-industrial complex and big moneyed interests, not little old you and me.

We the People is so thoroughly steeped in devout, Obama-esque establishment liberalism, both politically and culturally, that it’s rendered entirely blind to its own relentless bias.

For instance, in episode 5 “The First Amendment”, Brandi Carlisle sings the lyric, “there’s only one wall built with wisdom, it’s the wall between church and state!”.

Similarly, in the second episode “The Bill of Rights”, Adam Lambert sings positively about the entire Bill of Rights, but reserves a caveat solely for the 2nd Amendment when he notes “the right to bear arms, which were much different back in my day”.

I’m noticing a pattern here in who this show is targeting, and it ain’t gun advocates and those wanting a secure border.

Then there’s episode 4, “The Three Branches of Government” featuring the insidious Lin Manuel Miranda. This episode represents the executive branch with a black woman as president who belts out the refrain “checks and balances”. Poor old Joe Biden better check his balance or the Obamas and Kamala Harris will be more than happy to push him down a flight of stairs.

Episode 8 – “The Courts”, highlights all the court decisions that affect us as it follows a school girl through her daily routine. The episode ends with the young girl kissing her girlfriend at a protest rally, which is a bit rich considering Obama’s long-time resistance regarding gay marriage, and also unnecessarily explicit for a show aimed at 7-year-olds.

My least favorite episode, and that is saying something, is the final one, which features a poem by Amanda Gorman, the young poet who became a star at Biden’s inauguration. This episode “The Miracle of Morning”, is about recovering from recent difficulties (morning as mourning – get it?) and while it’s obviously about recovery from the pandemic, it also seems like it’s referencing recovering from the liberal trauma of four years of Trump.

Gorman is, like the insipid Lin Manuel-Miranda, one of those media creations that we’re all supposed to think is brilliant but who in reality is an absolute artistic charlatan.

Ms. Gorman’s poetry, both at the inauguration and on We the People, is such C level establishment pablum so devoid of insight or incite, that it makes readers gouge out their eyes so as not to see, and listeners to seek silence by throwing themselves into the sea. Anyone who has had to suffer through Ms. Gorman’s imbecilic and pedantically performative poetry will understand that joke.

Obviously, I’m not a fan of the series but I’m not the target audience, so I ran it by the few kids I know to get their reaction.

The six-year-old was overcome with indifference upon viewing a singular episode and exited without comment. The 13-year-old bailed halfway through the series with “peace out, this is dumb”, and the erudite and politically sophisticated 17-year-old found some of it annoying but none of it bad, and thought it useful for elementary school kids since the episodes were short and comparable to Schoolhouse Rock! My friend who works with kids in schools liked it too and said she’d recommend it to teachers to use in classrooms.

So maybe I’m just too jaded to appreciate We the People, but for me it was similar to Obama’s presidency in that it was vacuous, vapid and entirely self-serving. In other words, like Obama, We the People vacillated between being consistently disappointing and entirely forgettable.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Tarantino's Pact With the Weinstein Devil

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 36 seconds

Quentin Tarantino admits many Hollywood stars knew about Harvey Weinstein’s depravity, but like most people, their ambition kept them quiet

Quentin Tarantino said the quiet part out loud the other day when on Joe Rogan’s podcast he admitted that he “knew” of his longtime film distributor Harvey Weinstein’s aggressive sexual depravity.

Tarantino, who went on the Joe Rogan Experience to promote the novelization he wrote of his film ‘Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood’, made clear that in regards to Weinstein, he “didn’t know about the rapes or anything like that” but stated, “I knew he was –  you know – I chalked it up to the boss chasing the secretary around the desk. As if that’s okay. But I mean, that’s how I kind of looked at it. He was making unwanted advances.”

“Unwanted advances” is certainly a way of putting it, as Harvey made lots and lots of “unwanted advances” on women. So many in fact that he’s been sentenced to 23 years in prison for rape, and is still facing other charges. 

Tarantino tried to explain to Rogan how in hindsight, “…I wish I had talked to him…I wish I had sat him down and gone, ‘Harvey you can’t do this. You’re gonna f**k up everything.’”

I suppose that could be classified as a form of regret – misguided regret, but regret nonetheless. Maybe what Tarantino really regrets is losing Weinstein the golden goose: the guy who made movies big hits and Oscar nominations happen, rather than regret for not protecting women from Weinstein the predator.

Tarantino didn’t warn Weinstein that his illicit behavior was “going to f**k everything up” because Tarantino didn’t want to f**k up his fantastically prosperous relationship with the notoriously bombastic bully whom the director calls a “father figure”.

Weinstein didn’t just make Tarantino rich, he made him relevant, and in Hollywood that is the greatest gift of all. And the reason Harvey was immune from consequences for his actions for so long is because he made lots of other people rich, famous and relevant as well.

Tarantino said as much when he admitted that he wasn’t alone in keeping his mouth shut in order to keep the money and awards train running. The director told Rogan that the Hollywood heavy-hitters who say they didn’t know about Weinstein’s predatory behavior are full of it.

“Everybody who was in his orbit knew about it, there’s nobody who said they didn’t know who didn’t know… that includes all the big actors he palled around with… they all knew.”

There were a lot of people in Harvey Weinstein’s large orbit who owed the producer a great deal and who are implicated by Tarantino’s claim ­– Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Meryl Streep, Martin Scorsese, Oprah Winfrey, Lena Dunham and even Bill and Hillary Clinton to name a few.

These people, and many others, may have never seen first-hand Harvey do anything aggressive with women, but it’s impossible to believe they hadn’t heard about Harvey’s notorious behavior. Hell, I’m an absolute nobody and I’d heard about Weinstein’s disgusting reputation.

Weinstein’s depravity, like that of fellow scumbags Brett Ratner and Bryan Singer, wasn’t so much an open secret in Hollywood as a running joke. But since these three deplorables made lots of people money, people laughed instead of spoke up.

As easy as it would be to get indignantly outraged at the inaction of Tarantino, who despite his writing and directorial genius is an easy target, the reality is that, unfortunately, most people would keep their mouths shut, too, if put in a similar position.

The devil’s bargain Tarantino and so many others made with Weinstein is the same bargain many ‘regular’ people make for even less-substantial reasons.

The two most common side-effects of desperation and ambition are hypocrisy and a recurring blind eye turned toward what could stifle your ambition and agitate your desperation. As Orwell once wrote, “To see what is in front of one’s nose needs a constant struggle” and the reality is that being able to see the truth and actually admit it to yourself in real time is extremely difficult when your livelihood or emotional well-being depends on you not seeing it.

This is why Bill Clinton supporters didn’t believe Juanita Broaddrick, but believe all of the women accusing Donald Trump of sexual assault. And why Trump supporters dismiss claims against him but believe Tara Reade, and in turn why anti-Trumpers dismiss Ms. Reade’s claims against Joe Biden. 

This isn’t to say that all sexual assault and rape claims are equal. We shouldn’t ‘believe all women’, as women are just as capable and likely to lie as men. Nor should we ignore due process to satiate our thirst for revenge.

We also shouldn’t celebrate the emotionalist-fueled, vapid and vacuous hysteria that is the #MeToo movement, which infantilizes women, removes from them even the slightest bit of agency, and weaponizes female regret at the expense of diminishing the suffering of actual rape victims.

What we should do is remind people, be they Hollywood stars tainted by their silence regarding Weinstein, or Trump supporters ignoring his sexual conduct or Biden voters brushing aside claims against him, that their loyalties lie not with the truth, but with their personal or political ambitions, and therefore they have no moral clarity and are to be distrusted.

In conclusion, once upon a time in Hollywood, an uncommon talent at writing and directing revealed his cowardice by keeping silent about a powerful producer’s sexual depravity, thus revealing himself to be a painfully common, and very flawed, human being… just like the rest of us. Sounds like an interesting movie idea. I wonder who’ll direct?

A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Cosby and Rumsfeld - Perfect Symbols of Degenerate America

Cosby is getting out of prison and Rumsfeld is dead, but like America, they’ll never regain their veneer of moral authority.

The once beloved comedian and the once adored Secretary of Defense, are the perfect representations of America’s hypocritical, corrupt, deceptive and destructive culture.

It’s telling that American icon Bill Cosby, the comedy superstar who went from beloved tv dad to reviled convicted rapist, had his rape conviction thrown out on a technicality on the same day Donald Rumsfeld, the Secretary of Defense in the Bush administration on 9-11 and during the Iraq War, who was the ultimate Washington establishmentarian, died.

Cosby, who was accused by 53 women of drugging and raping them, and Rumsfeld, who oversaw the murder of millions in the Middle East and the U.S. torture regime, seem to have avoided being punished for their egregious crimes, when state supreme court of Pennsylvania overturned Cosby’s conviction and Rumsfeld, who never faced any charges for his litany of war crimes, died of cancer in New Mexico.

Cosby and Rumsfeld seem to me to be a perfect representation of America and its diabolically twisted culture.

The only reason Cosby was able to prey upon women, and long evaded his comeuppance, was because he had deceptively created a role for himself as the safest man in America – the nation’s dad, the ultimate wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Rumsfeld painted himself as a patriot and then did everything in his power to undermine American democracy with his embrace of the “unitary executive” philosophy, and wreak havoc across the globe in the name of spreading democracy.

Cosby’s massively successful, curse-free, soft edged stand-up comedy routines of the 1960’s led him to be a spokesman for such family friendly brands as Coke and Jell-O, and to equally clean roles in film and tv, most notably as the creator and voice of the 1970’s kid’s cartoon Fat Albert, and Cliff, the ugly sweater wearing patriarch of the Huxtable family on the 1980’s smash hit tv series, The Cosby Show.

Cosby, who would be the first to tell you he had a Doctorate of Education from the University of Massachusetts, a fact highlighted every week in the credits of The Cosby Show, also wrote books with titles like “Fatherhood”, “Love and Marriage” and “Childhood” to further reinforce his persona of being a gentle, loving dad.

Rumsfeld, who never failed to remind the fawning media that he was a military pilot in his younger days, was a major player in the Nixon, Ford and first Bush administration, and brought his insidious establishment powers to bear on the hapless wonder that was George W. Bush.

Of course, while Cosby was wearing the Dr. Jekyll mask of corporate American sainthood shilling for Coke and Jell-O and mugging for the camera on The Cosby Show, he was actually Mr. Hyde drugging and raping women. And while Rumsfeld was dazzling the media with his supposed military brilliance during the Iraq War, America was systematically torturing people, gutting Iraq and losing the war.

And now Cosby is going to walk because he was wealthy, the victim was greedy, the former prosecutor was deferential to the rich and powerful and the current prosecutor was blinded by emotion amidst the panic of the #MeToo movement, and Rumsfeld is going to avoid his comeuppance because the media adore dead establishmentarians and immediately cleanse all of their bad deeds from public memory.

This is why Cosby and Rumsfeld are such perfect representations of America.

Like America, which talks incessantly of peace but only makes war and touts democracy but deplores popular movements, Cosby and Rumsfeld are voracious predators hiding behind the mask of respectability who lectured the world about their faults but were oblivious to the cancer metastasized in their own soul.

And in the most American way possible, Cosby used his great wealth and fame to avoid accountability for his heinous sins by playing the rich man’s rigged game in a desperately corrupt system, and Rumsfeld avoided being held accountable for his crimes by embedding himself in the untouchable elite of Washington.

Cosby is so American he even became the poster boy for the recent hysteria of the #MeToo era, which was emotionally satisfying to many but is now being exposed as having a legally dubious foundation. This is particularly egregious in the Cosby case considering that it was good old American greed in the form of a payout via a civil suit that derailed the criminal conviction.

Rumsfeld will no doubt have the media slobber all over him and try to exalt him as some great American hero in the next few days. His Iraq War crimes, his failure as Secretary of Defense and as a human being, whitewashed.

Rumsfeld is dead, but Cosby is 83, and like the nation he once so enraptured, is decaying and on his last legs. Cosby and Rumsfeld may never be held accountable for their crimes but, like America, they’ll never escape the stench of their foul behavior. I suppose the silver lining in this ugly situation is that we won’t ever have to watch a self-righteous Donald Rumsfeld lecture us on “known unknowns” or watch Bill Cosby sell us Jell-O ever again because Rumsfeld and Cosby, like America, have forever lost their fabricated veneer of moral authority, not death, an overturned conviction or media self-deception, is going to bring that back.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Amazon Studio's Playbook to Ruin Cinema

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 42 seconds

Amazon Studio’s new “playbook” makes it official, diversity, not talent, skill or merit, is the only thing that matters anymore in the entertainment industry

The stunning document is shameless in its disdain for artistry and individuality, and its aggressive worship of all things woke.

The entertainment industry and the art of cinema took a gargantuan step on their relentless death march into the hellscape of the woke Mordor recently when Jeff Bezos, the Sauron of Amazon Studios, released his new “diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) playbook”.

Following in the footsteps of the Academy Awards, which implemented new diversity and inclusion mandates into awards eligibility criteria, and Disney, which has turned the happiest place on earth into the People’s Republic of Wokestan, Amazon Studios, the new home of James Bond and Rocky, has, like a suicide note, put in writing its demand that film and TV ignore talent, skill and merit when hiring in favor of diversity, equity and inclusion.

It’s now clear that the corporate human resources junta has successfully transformed Hollywood into nothing more than the propaganda arm for the woke Savonarolas who burn art and entertainment on the bonfire of inanities that is DEI.

Among many things Amazon’s “playbook” demands are creative roles on productions being 50% women and underrepresented racial/ethnic groups by 2024, and documentation and reporting of these diversity quotas is required both pre and post production. Unfortunately, the exact skin tone and percentage of “racial/ethnic” blood needed to qualify as belonging to an underrepresented group, and the papers you’ll need to show to the DEI gestapo to prove it, are not made clear.

The insidious “playbook” also declares its commitment to “authentic portrayals” and its intention to cast “actors in a role whose identity aligns with the identity of the character they will be playing (by gender, gender identity, nationality, race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, and disability) and in particular when the character is a member of an underrepresented group/identity.”

In other words, Amazon appears to be outlawing the art of acting as only disabled actors can play disabled characters and only LGBTQ actors can play LGBTQ roles. This is what happens when human resources deplorables take over the creative process.

One wonders how exactly Amazon will check if an actor up for a lesbian, gay or bisexual role is the real deal or not? Will actors be forced to “prove’ their lesbian, gay or bisexual bona fides by performing a sex act with an appropriately aligned producer? Maybe the casting couch can get a public relations facelift if it’s used to help Hollywood achieve the woke nirvana of diversity, equity and inclusion.

Of course, from an artistic perspective, the absurdity of Amazon’s totalitarian woke decrees is only topped by its power to suffocate and stultify creativity.

Consider this, some of the greatest performances we’ve seen in recent years would be wiped out by Amazon’s DEI manifesto, and it wouldn’t be surprising if eventually they’re retroactively cancelled for not being aligned with the new mandates.

For example, Daniel Day-Lewis is one of the greatest actors we’ve ever had, but despite not being disabled he won an Oscar for playing Christy Brown in My Left Foot, and won two Oscars for playing Americans in There Will Be Blood and Lincoln, despite being British and Irish.

In addition, Sean Penn isn’t gay but won an Oscar for playing Harvey Milk, Eddie Redmayne is able bodied but won for playing Stephen Hawking, Colin Firth won for playing King George VI but didn’t have a royal stutter and Jamie Foxx won for playing Ray Charles despite not being blind.

Even last year’s crop of movies would be affected by Amazon’s woke encyclical. Anthony Hopkins doesn’t have dementia but won the Best Actor Oscar playing a man suffering from that malady, Daniel Kaluuya won Best Supporting Actor Oscar is British but won for playing an African-American, and in Amazon Studio’s own Sound of Metal, Riz Ahmed was Oscar nominated for playing a deaf character but has perfect hearing.

Two of Amazon’s big hits from last year, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm and Coming 2 America violate this new woke law too as Brit Sacha Baron Cohen played a Kazahkstani, and New Yorker Eddie Murphy is played an African King. The horror!

Amazon’s decree is so specific it even states “But if the character has a distinct ethnic background, make sure that the actor’s ethnic background doesn’t conflict with this portrayal”, using as an example of a bad approach “are you casting a person of Puerto Rican heritage to play a character who is Colombian?” Under this edict Benicio del Toro’s Best Supporting Actor Oscar for playing a Mexican in Traffic wouldn’t happen because he is Puerto Rican.

Amazon’s “playbook” blatantly declares its repulsion at talent, skill and merit as a casting-criteria when it states that casting directors need to avoid “Relying on your “gut” or seeking “the best person for the job” as that’s an “inherently biased processes that may skew your decision making.”

If this relentless focus on hiring actors, creatives and even crew based on their gender, sexuality, race/ethnicity and nationality all sounds legally dubious if not outright discriminatory, Amazon agrees, as they throw in this playbook disclaimer to cover their backsides, “While this Playbook provides a general overview, it is not intended to provide legal advice, so it’s crucial to discuss these issues with your attorney.”

As a cinephile and lover of quality art and entertainment in movies and tv, I’m looking forward to the day when the despicable woke totalitarian philistines currently running and ruining Hollywood learn the hard way, at the box office and in the courtroom, that “get woke, go broke” is a universal law that supersedes their self-righteous, anti-merit, DEI declarations of blatant discrimination. They deserve nothing less.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Pentagon UFO Report Viewer's Guide

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 59 seconds

The Pentagon is releasing their UFO report, so now might be a good time to check with movies to see what to expect when we make contact.

This Friday the Pentagon is supposed to release its highly anticipated report on UFOs, or as the government now calls them, UAPs – unidentified aerial phenomena.

Similar to Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, I’m a long-time, self-confessed, tin-foil hat wearing UFO enthusiast/fanatic. As such I’m delusionally hoping the recent government and media pivot to taking UFOs seriously will lead to some sort of “disclosure”, where the truth out there will finally be revealed.

Of course, my more rational side knows that anytime you’re relying on the government or media for transparency or truth you’re playing a fool’s game.

Regardless of what the new UFO report says, the possibilities of what’s going on in our skies and under our seas span from the mundanity of mistaken perception combined with malfunctioning equipment to the momentous notion of extra-terrestrial/inter-dimensional visitors. Despite the alleged implausibility of it, my bet is on the latter, which means that aliens are indeed traversing our air space and ocean depths with technological aplomb and military impunity…so it might be a good idea to figure out their intentions.

As a film critic, I thought the best way to prepare for contact with our elusive galactic visitors the Pentagon cannot confirm or deny exist was to turn to movies as a guide, as our collective imagination has projected onto the silver screen and our culture a cavalcade of useful alien archetypes.

The Benevolent Aliens

Movies about human-alien contact that feature gentle aliens we’d be lucky to have visit us are very reassuring, and among the very best that cinema has to offer.

In this archetype, which features fantastic movies like E.T., Close Encounters of the Third Kind, The Abyss, Arrival and The Iron Giant, the aliens are good guys and the villains are our aggressive and deceptive government.

In some of these types of films, like Starman, The Man Who Fell to Earth and Midnight Special, the alien can be a pseudo-Christ figure, and government bureaucrats a nasty combination of the Sanhedrin and brutish Roman soldiers.

These benevolent alien stories put us at ease because in them humans are still in power. These movies are philosophical in nature and posit that the problem isn’t the aliens, it’s our own corrupt human nature, something we foolishly believe we can eventually overcome.

The Malevolent Aliens

Hollywood has inundated audiences with a plethora of malevolent aliens with distinctly human-mindsets over the years as well, which may lead us to assume nefarious intentions on the part of actual visitors from space.  

For instance, in the less than stellar Independence Day, War of the Worlds (1953/2005), Edge of Tomorrow, Battle: Los Angeles and Starship Troopers, aliens, despite their non-human appearance, seem remarkably human in their militaristic behavior and thirst for blood and conquest. The malevolent alien archetype scares us because it renders us powerless and reflects our violent aggression back onto us.

The creators of these fictional aliens assume that extra-terrestrials share our depraved belligerence and can only be defeated by military force (and accompanying bigger budgets), which is not surprising considering Hollywood’s long-standing, fierce commitment to making shameless propaganda for the Pentagon.

A similar archetype is the vastly superior malevolent alien with a specific weakness. For example, in the taut thriller A Quiet Place the terrifying aliens are blind but have super-sensitive hearing…maybe too sensitive. In the often-over-looked M. Night Shyamalan gem Signs, the alien’s weakness is water, while in War of the Worlds it’s susceptibility to the common cold.

This specific archetype is actually religious in nature as it spotlights humanity’s desire to think they exist under God’s divine protection against the demonic evil of alien invaders, which is sort of amusing considering there are actually reports of some real-life military brass believing UFOs/Aliens are “demonic” entities.

The Hunters

To me the most terrifying alien archetype is that of the alien hunter whose prey is humans.

In Predator, the alien hunts humans for sport, and in the Alien franchise, the alien is a horrifying beast relentlessly hunting humans in order to propagate its species by incubating its eggs in our bellies. Alien in particular forces humans to consider the prospect of being moved down the food chain, and while that’s exhilarating in fiction, in reality it’s absolutely chilling.

The Shapeshifters

Another terrifying alien archetype is the shapeshifter that can assimilate and mimic humans. Films like The Thing (1983), Species, Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956/1978) and Under the Skin all turn humans into potential aliens.

This archetype is unnerving because it makes us suspicious of other people and ourselves. Aliens might already be among us, and anybody, including us, could be an alien. That said, if aliens are seductresses that look like Scarlett Johansson (Under the Skin) and Natasha Henstridge (Species), there are worse ways to die.

In conclusion, to be optimistic about alien visitation, watch E.T. For a realistic portrayal of how all this UFO stuff will go down, check out Close Encounters or Robert Zemeckis’ under-rated Contact. For a philosophical/religious alien experience dive into Arrival, Starman or The Iron Giant. For a tense thrill ride, go with A Quiet Place. To indulge the nightmare scenario, go with John Carpenter’s The Thing (1983) and Ridley Scott’s masterpiece Alien. To see a fantastic documentary that seriously examines the UFO phenomenon, watch Out of the Blue (2003). And to find the truth regarding UFOs, keep your eyes on the prize and to the skies, and trust absolutely no one.  

A version of this article was originally published at RT. 

©2021

In the Heights is a box office bust...so let's ban the box office!

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 47 seconds

Whenever the woke diversity and inclusion agenda fails a test, it’s always the test’s fault – never the test-taker’s.

It started in 2020, when the Academy Awards put new rules into place that required future films to be diverse and inclusive in order to qualify for nomination. Now, to bolster that diversity and inclusion agenda, the woke enemies of merit in art and entertainment have set their sights on eliminating box office receipts as a measure of cinematic success.

In the Heights, a musical with an Asian director, Latino writer and all-minority cast, made a measly $11 million at the box office in its opening weekend, instead of the $25 to $50 million some delusional fools were projecting. It’s looking as if it will make considerably less in week two (it ultimately came in 6th on its second weekend with a paltry $4.3 million), but, apparently, we need to ignore its failure to sell tickets and laud its inclusivity aims.

In an LA Times article titled ‘How Hollywood’s box-office parlor game hurts movies like “In the Heights”, writer Ashley Lee declares that the film industry “will have to learn to define the ‘success’ of a film more broadly than in dollars and cents” if it wants to fix its “intractable diversity problems”.

This idea is reminiscent of colleges dropping the SAT and elite high schools dropping difficult entrance exams to boost diversity, or when the military or fire department weakens its physical entrance test to accommodate women.

This ‘equity’ approach, which is meant to result in equality of outcome, as opposed to equality of opportunity, beautifully sums up our narcissistic, petulant and coddled era, in which, if anyone fails a test, then it’s the test’s fault and not the test-taker’s.

As for Lee’s idea of dismissing the box office, it makes perfect sense, according to woke illogic, as once diversity and inclusion become the most important things about a movie – which the Academy Awards now claim they are – then, of course, box office receipts as a metric for success become obsolete.

To the woke, if a movie checks the right identity boxes, it’s already a smash, regardless of whether it makes money, is a highly crafted work of art or is entertaining.

Of course, this is all just more hypocritical woke preening, pandering and virtue signaling, as Lee and her ilk use the box office as a bludgeon as much as anybody when it suits them. For example, in a glaring case of ‘physician heal thyself’, the article bemoans the “parlor game” of box-office projections and expectations that, when not met, set a negative narrative around a minority-led film, but plays the same parlor game, linking to another piece that claims ‘“In the Heights” is the rare Latino blockbuster. Three Times writers on what that means’. That headline ran the day the movie opened and made presumptions about how it would be received that ultimately failed to materialise.

The box-office success of Black Panther, which made over a billion dollars, and female-led movies such as Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman are often used as evidence by those who say diversity is the ticket to prosperity. Hell, In the Heights only exists in its current form because director Jon Chu had a blockbuster with Crazy Rich Asians, with its all-Asian cast, and writer Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, with its majority-minority cast, raked in wads of cash.

Not surprisingly, considering its fatally flawed philosophical foundation, the rest of Lee’s vapid article is peppered with vacuous declarations about diversity and inclusion problems in Hollywood – most notably, “the vanishingly rare major studio movies with nonwhite leads”. I wonder if she actually watches movies, given, over the past 30 years, Denzel Washington and Will Smith were two of the biggest movie stars working in Hollywood, and, in the past decade, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, Michael B. Jordan and the late Chadwick Boseman have dominated major studio films.

In addition, in 2020 alone, Tenet, Sound of Metal, Soul, Minari, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, One Night in Miami and Judas and the Black Messiah all had “nonwhite leads” and were nominated for Oscars. And Will Smith’s Bad Boys for Life and Jumanji: The Next Level, starring Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart, ranked first and fourth, respectively, at the US box office for the entire year. This proves that, contrary to Lee’s inane claims, Hollywood’s use of “nonwhite leads” is neither “vanishing” nor “rare”.

I’m a cinephile who prefers the arthouse to the cineplex, so box office is not exactly something I hold up as a symbol of cinematic virtue. But, in the case of In the Heights and other examples of mainstream Hollywood entertainment that are designed to rake in money, using box office receipts to measure their success or otherwise is the only viable and logical metric. In La La Land, the only color that truly matters is green, so the notion of eliminating that particular measure of a film’s success would go down like a lead zeppelin…and definitely not like Led Zeppelin.

The reality is that the woke can rig the system to honour their trite version of ‘diversity and inclusion’ with Academy Awards, but if they want lasting power in money-hungry Hollywood, their movies had better make bundles of cash or their whole house of politically correct cards will come tumbling down right on their empty little heads.

A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

'In the Heights' and the Woke Albatross

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 34 seconds

The new movie musical ‘In the Heights’ is too woke for regular people and not woke enough for race-obsessed wokesters

The movie was relentless in marketing its diversity but is learning the hard way that you can never satiate the hunger of the woke beast.

In the Heights, the movie adaptation of Lin Manuel Miranda’s Tony Award winning musical about life in the Latino neighborhood of Washington Heights in New York City, was supposed to be ‘the movie of the summer!’

The film marketed itself as a “celebration” of diversity, and shamelessly boasted about its Latino writer (Miranda), Asian director (John Chu – Crazy Rich Asians) and all minority cast.

The film was aggressively marketed by Warner Bros., and was projected to rake in anywhere from $25 million to a staggering $50 million on its opening weekend, even though it was simultaneously being released on the streaming service HBO Max.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to blockbuster status… the movie embarrassingly underperformed. Despite rave reviews the movie made a measly $11 million and came in second at the box office to A Quiet Place II in its third week in theatres, it also fell flat on HBO Max.

Who would’ve thought that a rap-heavy musical that only has as its calling card its relentless diversity, and which features no stars but sells itself as the musical equivalent of a two hour and twenty-two-minute neo-liberal lecture on immigration and the DREAM Act, wouldn’t attract hordes of normal people to theatres or HBO Max?

Welcome to life in the Hollywood bubble.

The most hysterical thing about the In the Heights situation though is that in a delicious bit of irony, despite its supposed diversity bona fides, the film has come under attack from wokesters for its lack of “Afro-Latinx” representation.

During an interview Felice Leon of The Root challenged director Chu and cast members Melissa Barrera and Leslie Grace over the “white passing” and “light-skinned” cast and the lack of “black Latinx” actors in featured roles, and her criticism attracted much attention and support on Twitter and the media.

What makes this all so funny is that Lin Manuel Miranda, whose artistic talent at writing insipid raps and insidiously sappy tales is inversely proportionate to his over-sized ego, only became a cultural icon/pet of the establishment because he hungrily and wantonly embraced diversity, most notably with Hamilton.

The same is true of director John Chu, a filmmaker of gargantuan limitations whose only claim to fame is that he made a derivative rom-com (Crazy Rich Asians) but did it with an all-Asian cast.

With In the Heights, Warner Bros., Miranda and Chu were all trying to pander to the woke in order to line their pockets, and to see these proud politically correct poseurs squirm as they are hoisted by their own petard is, pardon the pun, in the heights of comedy.

As this glorious feast of woke cannibalism played out, Chu and Miranda both tried to assuage their attackers while barely concealing their own fury at being called before the tiny Torquemadas of Twitter as the newest woke inquisition raged.

Chu responded to the criticism by saying “…when we were looking at the cast, we tried to get people who were best for those roles…”. Uh-oh…that is a terribly “white” answer and sounds an awful lot like embracing meritocracy and not diversity.

Melissa Barrera, who plays Vanessa in the film, had an uncomfortably “white” answer to the lack of dark-skinned cast members too. Barrera said, “In the audition process, which was a long audition process, there were a lot of Afro-Latinos there. A lot of darker-skinned people. They were looking for just the right people for the roles, for the person that embodied each character in the fullest extent…”

I’m sure that Mr. Chu and Ms. Barrera’s newfound touting of meritocracy will quickly transform into a vigorous playing of the diversity card the second it works to their advantage.

As for the Patron Saint of Diversity, Lin Manuel Miranda, he originally replied to the uproar with a detached defiance saying, “it’s unfair to put any undue burden of representation on In the Heights”, which is woke-speak for ‘I am King of diversity how dare you question me?!’.

Of course, the mealy-mouthed Miranda, ever the craven eunuch, later changed his tune when the tide against him continued to rise, writing an embarrassing Twitter tome which started by his stating that he wrote In the Heights because he “didn’t feel seen” and ended with his tail firmly between his legs with, “I’m dedicated to the learning and evolving we all have to do to make sure we are honoring our diverse and vibrant community.”

The lessons in all of this In the Heights nonsense is two-fold. First, the film is “get woke, go broke” made manifest. Touting diversity instead of quality and entertainment as a main selling point for a movie, particularly a musical, is a sure-fire way to turn off regular people, particularly older ones, who are usually the audience for a movie musical.

Secondly, a business plan that puts placating the woke on the top of its list is doomed to fail. In the Heights is a corporate woke Frankenstein’s monster with its Latino writer, Asian director and all minority cast, and it still wasn’t enough for the woke. Nothing will ever be enough for the woke.

And if you like this ‘woke eating their own’ story about In the Heights…wait until December. That’s when the paleolithic woke pandersaurus himself - Steven Spielberg, premiers his remake of the Latino-themed musical West Side Story. It’s guaranteed to be ferventy woke but like In the Heights, not nearly woke enough to satiate the ever hungry woke beast.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Riz Ahmed says Hollywood under-represents and toxically portrays Muslims...but he isn't telling the whole truth

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 57 seconds

The Oscar-nominated British actor and the Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism at the US’s University of Southern California (USC) have jointly published a study that’s long on complaints and short on facts.

Riz Ahmed, the first Muslim to be nominated for Best Actor at the Academy Awards, is spearheading an initiative to increase the visibility of Muslims in film and eradicate toxic stereotypes in Muslim characters.

As evidenced by his stellar work in, among others, the films Nightcrawler and The Sisters Brothers, the mini-series The Night Of, and his Oscar-nominated portrayal in Sound of Metal, Ahmed is one of the finest actors around, and he seems to be a very thoughtful artist and man.

Unfortunately, on reading ‘Missing and Maligned’, the study by Ahmed’s Left Handed Films and USC’s Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, it becomes apparent that his noble venture is a deeply disingenuous one.

The study obviously started with its conclusion, that Muslims are under-represented in film, and then intentionally limited its investigation and cherry-picked its evidence to make it appear that its preconception was accurate.

The fatally flawed study focuses only on the top-200 grossing films from 2017 to 2019 in the US, UK, Australia and New Zealand. It also fails to look at those on any streaming service, such as Netflix or Amazon Prime, which are among the biggest producers and distributors, and didn’t examine representation in TV shows.

Its disingenuousness is clear when it declares that Muslims make up 24% of the world’s population, but represent only 1.6% of speaking characters in films. This is a deceptive statistic, as the Muslim populations of the US, UK, Australia and New Zealand combined actually constitute roughly 1.5%. In other words, Muslims are slightly over-represented in film in comparison to their population percentage in the countries measured.

The study also gets specific about these individual countries. For example, it decries the fact that the US films on which it focused featured only 1.1% of characters who were Muslim, despite the fact the US has a Muslim population of… 1.1%. It also finds but fails to highlight that Australia actually features more than twice as many Muslims in its films, at 5.6%, than there are Muslims in its population, at 2.6%. And, according to the study, the UK and New Zealand, with their 5.2% and 1.3% Muslim populations, represent Muslims in film to the tune of 1.1% and 0%, respectively.

But, again, limiting the metric to just these four countries as opposed to the English-speaking film industry’s target audience, the entire Anglosphere – the US, the UK, Canada, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand – is deceptive. For instance, if you tally the Muslim population in the Anglosphere, it is 1.5% of the overall population, which is slightly less than the combined percentage of Muslim characters in films in the four countries examined in the study.

The second part of Ahmed’s complaint, which focuses on the toxic stereotyping of Muslim characters, is certainly more compelling, given that vacuous ethnic caricatures are one of Hollywood’s trademarks, but even on this slam-dunk topic, the Annenberg/Ahmed study is shallow, vapid and lop-sided.

For example, in a section titled ‘Modern-day Muslim Characters are Rare’, it uses statistics that reveal that 48.9% of Muslim characters are shown in “present-day settings”. Is slightly less than 50% now considered “rare”? Indeed, the “rarity” claim is even more absurd, as the study also finds that 11% of those characters were featured in scenes “in the recent past”, meaning 59.9% were in scenes in the present or recent past and 40.2% were from “the historical or fantastical past”. These sorts of statistical and rhetorical shenanigans only undermine Ahmed’s credibility.

Another odd study topic, titled ‘Disparagement is Directed at Muslim Characters’, lists words and phrases directed at 41 primary and secondary Muslim characters, such as “terrorist”, “Paki” and “fundamentalist”. The obvious counter to this is that, if films did not show the sometimes vile treatment and harassment of Muslims, then Annenberg and Ahmed would instead accuse them of ignoring Islamophobia.

Further undermining Ahmed’s argument are statements from Ahmed himself. According to the BBC, “Ahmed recently said he enjoyed the fact that the religion and ethnicity of his character Ruben in ‘Sound of Metal’ was not mentioned at all in the movie.”

So, Ahmed wants more Muslim representation in film, but is glad not to be representing a Muslim in a film? Why didn’t he want Ruben to be Muslim? Wouldn’t that have normalized the featuring of a Muslim on screen?

As an Irish Catholic, I totally understand Ahmed’s frustration with under-representation and negative portrayal in film, as Hollywood seems incapable of portraying anyone of faith – regardless of which faith – as anything other than alien or villainous. But Annenberg/Ahmed needed to prove their intellectual integrity by diving into the uncomfortable topic of which ethnic or racial groups are over-represented on screen and even behind the scenes of the film industry.

The pat answer would be white people. They make up 76.3% of the US and 86% of the UK population, yet, in 2018, represented only 69.1% of characters in films. So, which group or groups should have their representation in film decreased to make room for the Muslims Ahmed fails to prove are under-represented?

Until Annenberg, Ahmed and the rest of those raising representation issues acknowledge and address that awkward question, they and their claims will be viewed as disingenuous and short on rigour. If they want to be taken seriously when it comes to under-representation and mis-representation, they need to do more than just churn out a deceptive piece such as ‘Missing and Maligned’, which misses the mark and maligns the intelligence of its readers.

A version of this article was originally published at RT.
©2021

Birds are Racist!!!

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes and 27 seconds

A bunch of loons have declared that bird names and bird-watching are racist.

Like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the dodo’s in the establishment media are once again pushing an absurd racism narrative.

Everything is racist…including birds. I learned that fact by reading an article in the Washington Post titled “The racist legacy many birds carry” by Daryl Fears.

The headline makes it seem as though racism is like avian flu and is spread either by racist birds or birds carrying the racism bug. As dumb as that sounds, it isn’t nearly as idiotic as what the actual article contains.

The aptly named author Mr. Fears lays an egg in his insidiously insipid investigation into racism in bird watching and how many birds, “bear the names of men who fought for the Southern cause, stole skulls from Indian graves for pseudoscientific studies that were later debunked, and bought and sold Black people. Some of these men stoked violence and participated in it without consequence.”

It’s difficult to read that quote without rolling your eyes so hard you give yourself a seizure and it’s even harder to read the whole article without wanting a murder of crows to peck your eyes out.

The article claims that birds being named after people who did awful things in history shows that “as with the wider field of conservation, racism and colonialism are in orinthology’s DNA”.

Most normal people don’t know and don’t care that the Townsend’s warbler and Townsend’s solitaire are named after John Kirk Townsend who dug up Indigenous skulls to study them and “prove the inferiority of Indigenous people”. Or that Wallace’s owlet is named after Alfred Russell Wallace who in the 1800’s used the “n-word”. Or that James Sligo Jameson (of the Jameson whiskey family) purchased a girl in Africa in 1888 and watched as she was killed by “cannibals”. Or that John James Audubon, the patron not-so-saint of conservation and bird-watching, was a slave owner in the 1800’s.

Normal people don’t care about how birds got their name as it’s completely irrelevant to enjoying bird-watching. They don’t interpret names as celebrations of awful (or good) people but simply as a way to identify different birds.

Of course, in our current racial hysteria every narrative besides race is ruthlessly pushed out of the nest and left to die of under exposure.

For instance, in the article black ornithologist Corina Newsome says that after she was hired by Georgia Audubon and wore the organization’s work shirt she felt “like I was wearing the name of an oppressor, the name of someone who enslaved my ancestors.”

Regarding Newsome the article also states that “On urban and rural trails, she quickly lifts her binoculars when she sees White people do a double-take. In a scorching Georgia marsh where she slogs through muck to study a seaside sparrow, she shifts heavy equipment to the side of her body that faces the roadway so suspicious White motorists “won’t think I’m doing something illegal and make trouble for me.”

Another “ornithologist of color” Alex Troutman says he “goes out of his way to smile and wave at every white passerby when he’s in a marsh or field “to appear as least threatening as possible”.

Look, racial prejudice exists across all racial and ethnic lines, but Newsome and Troutman’s tales are more akin to the subjective ramblings of delusional paranoiacs conjuring boogey men of racial violence and oppression where none exist rather than a serious recounting of racist incidents by thoughtful people.

The article goes on to attempt to explain the root of the racist/colonialist problem in ornithology with this fantastically flaccid paragraph.

“Europeans named birds as though they were human possessions, but American Indians regard them differently. The red-tail hawk in some languages is uwes’ la’ oski, a word that translates to “lovesick,” because one of its calls sounded like a person who lost a partner.”

How exactly naming a bird by its identifying marks…like a red-tail, is a sign of European possessiveness or racism remains a mystery, though curiously the changing of the name of the ‘McCown’s longspur’ to the ‘thick-billed longspur’ due to John Porter McCown’s confederate past is deemed a victory against racist bird names.

The most interesting pieces of information in this asinine article come after its conclusion. In his bio it states that Fears has a Pulitzer prize, which is a shock considering he writes so poorly I wouldn’t trust him to correctly and coherently write a grocery list.

Also revealed is a hysterical correction which reads “An earlier version of this article incorrectly identified the location of an 1855 expedition by Alfred Russel Wallace as Africa; it was the Malay Archipelago. In addition, some historians believe that the mother and baby Wallace wrote about in demeaning human terms during his trip were orangutans.”

Confusing Africa with the Malay Archipelago and humans with orangutans seems super-racist to me. Unfortunately, Mr. Fears doesn’t have any birds named after him that we can re-name, but he has a Pulitzer and a job at the Washington Post, so maybe those can be rescinded?

Ultimately, those manufacturing tenuous claims of racism in bird names and bird-watching are as ridiculous as movie-goers who would watch Hitchcock’s The Birds and conclude it’s a civil rights movie about black crows rightfully pecking to death a bunch of privileged white people over the injustice of Jim Crow laws.

The reality regarding the buffoonery of these manufactured bird-based racism claims is that if you want to undermine the fight against legitimate racism by coming across as an absurd, insane and inane loon, then a preposterous, pretentious and beyond parodic cause like “racism in orinthology” is a truly terrific way to do it.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Anne Boleyn and Color-Conscious Casting

Anne Boleyn is so dull that the lead’s race is the only worth discussing…as intended

The Channel 5 mini-series has attracted a lot of attention for its unconventional casting, but it is an underwhelming piece of television.

The first episode of the highly anticipated three-part drama, Anne Boleyn, which has generated a great deal of conversation because it cast Jodie Turner Smith, a black actress, in the titular role, premiered Tuesday night on BBC Channel 5.

The casting of a black actress to play a white historical figure has garnered much attention, which seems to be the point. I certainly wouldn’t have watched Anne Boleyn if it weren’t for the casting controversy…so mission accomplished.

This color-blind (casting without considering an actor’s race) or color-conscious (intentionally casting a minority because of their identity) casting approach has been a hot topic in recent years.

“Whitewashing”, where a white actor or actress plays a role that’s a minority in the source material, such as Scarlett Johansson in Ghost in the Shell or Tilda Swinton in Doctor Strange, or where white actors/actresses play “people of color” like Emma Stone in Aloha, Angelina Jolie in A Mighty Heart or Jonathon Pryce in Miss Saigon, has been labelled culturally insensitive and all but banned.

In a case of “race-washing for me but not for thee”, during this same time-period “artists of color” playing characters that are white in the source material, even when that source material is actual history, has been met with cheers for being a sign of victory for “diversity” and “inclusion”.

A Wrinkle in Time, Hamilton and Mary, Queen of Scots(2018) are just a few of the examples of the race-washing of white characters, including white historical figures, with actors of color in recent years.

As a traditionalist who believes in respecting source material, particularly when the source is history itself, I always find it ironic that the woke are so enthralled with color-blind or color-conscious casting when it comes to white historical figures or originally white characters yet are so addicted to classifying people by their racial identity in real life.

Of course, the argument from the pro-color-blind/color-conscious side is rather disingenuous and unserious. Author Miranda Kaufman’s recent article on the subject in the Telegraph is a perfect representation of the vacuousness and vapidity of that position.

Kaufman opens her piece by declaring she is “always exasperated by the uproar when a new historical drama comes out with a cast that isn’t solely white” and then goes on to reveal her ignorance and stunningly obtuse perspective on the issue.

According to Kaufman, since there were blacks in England during the Tudor era that means it’s no big deal if a black actress plays Anne Boleyn.

There were white people in the civil rights movement, so should Joaquin Phoenix, Daniel Day Lewis and Meryl Streep play Malcolm X, MLK and Rosa Parks? There were white abolitionists so should Sean Penn and Jennifer Lawrence play Frederick Douglas and Harriet Tubman? This is obviously absurd.

Equally absurd is Kaufman’s reasoning that because there were 200 free blacks out of a total of between 2 and 4 million people living in Tudor England, then a black Anne Boleyn is perfectly reasonable even though, as Kaufman admits, “of course” Boleyn wasn’t black.

Kaufman’s article is titled, “Yes, there were black Tudors – and they lived fascinating lives”, so why not make a tv show about one of them and cast black artists in the roles instead of turning history into fantasy by casting Jodie Tuner Smith as Boleyn?

My opposition to color-blind and color-conscious casting is purely a function of wanting to see the very best film and television possible. Film and tv is all about ‘make believe’, as the actors are playing ‘make believe’ in order to make the audience believe what they are witnessing is genuine.

This is why movie and tv studios pay millions of dollars for top-notch CGI to make it look like superheroes are really flying and dragons actually exist, and why taller actors play Abe Lincoln and pretty actresses play Marylin Monroe.

By casting a black woman as Anne Boleyn, or any other white figure, the critically important suspension of disbelief needed to lose oneself in entertainment has one more obstacle to overcome in our jaded age, and the ‘make believe’ is made markedly less believable.

Which brings us to Anne Boleyn.

I wanted Anne Boleyn to be good because I want every-thing I see to be good, but unfortunately it isn’t just Anne’s head that will roll in relation to this show, but viewer’s eyes as well.

This drama is a rather flimsy and flaccid retelling of the Boleyn tale that brings nothing new to the table except for the race of its leading lady.

The show is not underwhelming because of Jodie Turner Smith, it would probably be anemic regardless of who played the titular role, but it isn’t helped by her presence either.

Smith is an undeniable beauty but she’s not particularly charismatic, and she certainly lacks the magnetism and skill to elevate this rather shallow and stilted drama.

The rest of the cast, be they white, black or other, don’t fare any better, as the production feels decidedly cheap and devoid of drama.  

Episode two and three of Anne Boleyn air over the next two nights and maybe it will find its dramatic rhythm and improve significantly, but I doubt it as the first episode was so dull it left me wanting to chop my own head off.

The bottom-line reality regarding Anne Boleyn is that the virtue signaling of color-blind or color-conscious casting may make pandering studio executives and the woke feel good, but it often doesn’t make for good art and entertainment.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

A Quiet Place II: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT: Not worth risking a trip to the theatre to see it, but if you stumble upon it on a streaming service than you might as well watch.

A Quiet Place II falls dramatically, culturally and politically flat as it fails to live up to the suspenseful original

The original was an ingenious commentary on cancel culture, but the sequel feels more like a lifeless corporate money grab than meaningful metaphor.

In 2018, the monster movie/horror film A Quiet Place snuck up on movie audiences and frightened and thrilled the hell out of them to the tune of $340 million in worldwide box office on a $21 million budget.

That movie, written, directed and starring John Krasinski, was a taut and tense, edge-of-your-seat original about an isolated family with a deaf daughter trying to survive after an invasion by sound sensitive aliens that kill anything they hear.

Besides being an unexpected success, the film and its ingenious major plot point of the need to keep quiet or be killed was also surprisingly a cultural and political lightning rod as it was a potent metaphor for political correctness, cancel culture and the silencing of alternative views – things which have only increased since 2018.

Considering corporate Hollywood’s insatiable hunger for reusable intellectual property it can exploit for profit, it isn’t surprising that Paramount Pictures has gone back to the well to try and recapture the magic, and more importantly the box-office success, of the first film.

A Quiet Place II was ready to go back in the Spring of 2020 but Covid delayed the release for over a year. But now it’s in theatres and Paramount is so desperate for a hit they are actually running a short introduction to the film from Krasinski where he thanks audiences for coming out and seeing his movie.

That bizarre intro seemed exceedingly polite (if not a bit desperate), but is understandable coming out of Covid and considering that after a shortened 45-day release window A Quiet Place II will be available on the Paramount + streaming service.

As for the original A Quiet Place…I absolutely loved it. I had zero expectations going into it and when it ended, I let out a deep breath that I realized I’d been holding nearly the entirety of the movie. I love when that happens, when a film comes out of nowhere and just pulls you in and takes you on a gripping and suspenseful journey.

I was equally shocked and thrilled that John Krasinski of all people, who was best known as Jim from the U.S. tv show The Office, was capable of being such a skilled director and interesting storyteller.

A Quiet Place II, which is also written and directed by Krasinski, and once again stars his real-life wife Emily Blunt, is not flying under the radar and won’t sneak up on anybody. Expectations are very high for the film, and unfortunately, it doesn’t live up to them.

A Quiet Place II isn’t a terrible movie, by any stretch. In fact, there are some fantastic moments, like the first five minutes of the movie. But beyond that it is too often a forgettable, generic, repetitive and predictable horror film/monster movie, which is a terrible letdown.

The film is chock full of sequences meant to be suspenseful, but they all feel so calculated and contrived as to be just another piece of movie-making manipulation manufactured by Hollywood conventionalities.

The drama and the narrative too seemed forced, flat and rushed. Missing is the claustrophobic dramatic sense of imposed silence, small spaces and familial relationships that fueled the drama, suspense and tension of the original.

Due to the events in A Quiet Place, the sequel lacks the combustible father-daughter drama to the extant it was featured in the original. The introduction of new characters, like the forlorn Emmett (Cillian Murphy), further dissipates the confined family drama aspect of the story that was so effective in the first film.

Also gone is the suspense from the all-encompassing dread and need for silence, as the aliens are exposed for having a weakness in the original so silence becomes more a tactic than an existential demand in the sequel. And finally, in the sequel the family ventures out into the world, thus diminishing the tension born of that sense of being trapped in the same space.

As for the cultural and political relevance of the film…well…cancel culture and political correctness have only gotten more powerful in the three years since A Quiet Place premiered, but somehow A Quiet Place II actually feels less metaphorically relevant.

If you strain hard enough there is certainly some cultural and political sub-text you can deconstruct. For instance, the notion of needing to find courage, stay calm and work together to overcome the woke beasts of cancel culture is there if you look hard enough. So is the idea of needing to find a big enough and effective enough communication device to expose the weakness of the p.c. police and defeat them. But none of that metaphorical analysis is fueled by remotely as much energy as that found in the first film.

Maybe it’s just a function of A Quiet Place II not being as effective as the original or maybe it’s because the original already rang the cancel culture alarm so there’s nothing new to posit on the subject in the sequel. Regardless, A Quiet Place II doesn’t feel like a cultural lightning rod so much as a corporate cash grab. Such is life in Hollywood.

Ultimately, A Quiet Place was an ingenious piece of storytelling that was unique and original. But while familiarity doesn’t breed contempt for A Quiet Place II, it certainly does breed predictability and boredom.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Cruella: Review and Commentary

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Really not much of interest in this big budget misfire.

Cruella is the perfect kid’s movie for a culture that celebrates cruelty and malignant megalomania

Disney has discarded the old princess narrative and under the guise of self-empowerment are now teaching generations of young girls to embrace self-serving toxicity.

In the new Disney movie Cruella the Rolling Stones classic Sympathy for the Devil plays over the film’s final scene, which felt a bit too on the nose for the origin story of a notorious character that will go on to attempt to skin puppies for the sake of fashion.

Cruella, of course, is Cruella de Vil, the infamous arch villain of the iconic animated film One Hundred and One Dalmatians. With this new, live-action, reimagined reboot starring Emma Stone we discover why Cruella hates dalmatians so much and how she rose to power.

What we really learn though is that the suits at Disney will go to any lengths to plumb the depths of their intellectual property vault to make money and corrode the culture.

Cruella, whose real name is Estella, is at first set in a sort of Dickensian London, where we learn of her troubled childhood. The film then magically shifts into the stylishly swinging London of the 60’s and 70’s where Estella graduates from good girl gone bad to bad girl grown up.

The soundtrack, which is easily the best part of the movie, reflects that time period as it features an abundance of classics from The Doors, Queen, Nina Simone, ELO, Tina Turner, The Clash and the aforementioned Stones.

Unfortunately, like seemingly all Disney films, Cruella is a shameless money grab in the form of a two hour and fourteen-minute advertisement for Disney’s vast catalogue of past movie hits and its newfound woke politics.

Director Craig Gillespie has experience making movies about cartoonishly villainous women, as evidenced by his terrific film I, Tonya, about disgraced figure skater Tonya Harding, but on Cruella he seems desperately out of place.

The film’s star, Emma Stone, doesn’t fare much better. Stone is a likeable screen presence, but she is all bark and no bite as Cruella, as the thread bare script makes little human sense and reduces her acting to histrionics.

The lone bright spot in the cast though is Paul Walter Hauser who is glorious as always as the bumbling buffoon Horace Badun. The rotund Hauser is quickly becoming one of the best scene stealers and actors in the business.

The film’s massive $200 million budget doesn’t translate into stunning visuals either, as the film looks just ok and lacks any remarkable cinematic moments. It’s also painfully derivative, generously borrowing from other, much better films like The Devil Wears Prada, Joker, The Thomas Crown Affair and V for Vendetta.

The biggest problem with Cruella though is that it can’t quite figure out what exactly it wants to be. It’s too dark to be for kids and too silly to be for adults. Yet despite the movie’s PG13 rating, it would appear from the movie’s rather ludicrous plot and minimal character development that the target audience is impressionable pre-teen girls, which is unfortunate since the film’s moral perspective is less than idyllic.

Even though there are shades of Cinderella in Cruella, there are certainly no princesses to be found. The old days of the Disney princess are long gone and some may say good riddance, but now the corporate behemoth Mickey Mouse built is pivoting to not just churning out generic girl power movies, but with Cruella, bad-girl girl power movies.

This is a bad girl versus bad girl movie, a battle of the bitches if you will, where Cruella (Emma Stone) faces off against her fashion designer nemesis Baroness von Hellman (Emma Thompson – doing a second-rate Meryl Streep imitation), with the most-cruel and conniving female fashionista winning the stylish bad girl championship crown with belt to match.

I’m old enough to remember when Joker came out in 2019 and hysterical establishment critics shrieked in horror, declaring it dangerous because Joker was the “patron saint of incels” who’d inspire white men to violence. Joker was rated R and obviously geared towards adults, but Cruella? It’s for 10 year-old girls is designed under the guise of self-empowerment to encourage the selfish, bitchy and viciously toxic behavior of brats of all ages.

And don’t be fooled, Disney knows exactly what it’s doing as it clearly understands full well the power of pop culture to persuade, which is why it wouldn’t allow Stone to smoke as Cruella despite that being a signature trait of the character.

God only knows what deleterious effect Cruella will have on generations of girls in a nation already filled with a plethora of narcissistic Karen De Vils.

Of course, Cruella is inoculated against that sort of moral and/or cultural criticism from mainstream critics because it has the “proper” woke perspective and a “diverse” and “inclusive” cast where most of the “heroes” are women, minorities or both.

Among these heroes are Cruella, a genius taking on the small-minded patriarchy, Anita, the black female gossip columnist defiantly helping Cruella’s cause, Artie, the gay fashionista who fights for all things fabulous, and Jasper, Cruella’s right-hand person of color.

Ultimately, there’s nothing wrong with telling a story about an anti-hero or villain. These stories can have great value in that they help a culture assimilate its shadow and ultimately find catharsis. Joker is a perfect example of this, and so could be Cruella if it were made for adults.

Cruella though is a sign of a culture intent on destroying itself as it’s a kid’s movie that teaches young girls to identify with and have sympathy for this undeniably immoral and malignant megalomaniacal she-devil, all while it celebrates cruelty.

I guess a corrosive kid’s movie like Cruella was inevitable since we live in a popular, political and social culture populated with so many cruel, immoral, malignantly megalomaniacal adults. As the saying goes “you get what you pay for”…which is why I definitely wouldn’t recommend paying for Cruella.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Friends: The Reunion

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 49 secodns

The one they shouldn’t have made: Friends’ pointless, self-aggrandizing reunion delivers neither nostalgia nor laughs

The long-waited reunion of one of TV’s most successful shows is a missed opportunity. The aging cast should have been brave enough to reprise their beloved roles instead of just reminiscing about their glory days.

The often-delayed and much-hyped ‘Friends: The Reunion’ finally premiered on HBO Max on Thursday. The end result of this rather slick, self-aggrandizing, hour and 43-minute long commercial for itself was a bevy of ambivalent shrugs and a collective “who cares?”.

‘Friends’ burst on the scene on September 22, 1994 and with its beautiful and talented cast of Jennifer Aniston, Courtney Cox, Lisa Kudrow, David Schwimmer, Matt LeBlanc and Matthew Perry, it quickly became a cultural phenomenon.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRXVQ77ehRQ

Like some sort of sitcom Beatlemania, ‘Friends’ became part of the cultural zeitgeist, with its catchphrases (how YOU doin’?), storylines (Ross and Rachel) and style (the ever-present Rachel hairdo) dominating mainstream entertainment discourse for a decade until its finale on May 6, 2004.

The show was enormously successful as the top-rated television comedy for six of its 10 years, averaging a whopping 25 million viewers an episode in America.

Even after it rode off into the sunset and was relegated to reruns, the show still garnered much attention, as it was consistently among the most streamed programs on Netflix, and has been watched over 100 billion times over all platforms over its lifetime.

The staying power of ‘Friends’ is why WarnerMedia were so keen to get their hands on the show in order for it to be the cornerstone of their new streaming service HBO Max, and shelled out $425 million for the privilege.

The ‘Friends’ reunion, only the second time in 17 years the cast has been in the same room together, was meant to be the big draw to HBO Max when it opened for business in May of 2020, but due to Covid, the filming of the reunion was pushed back not once but twice. And now it is now finally here.

The idea of a ‘Friends’ reunion where the characters Rachel, Ross, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe and Joey returned had the potential to be pretty great.

The opportunities were endless for the show’s creators. They could have opted to have Ross and Rachel bitterly divorced, Monica addicted to meth, Chandler embracing his true trans nature, Phoebe homeless playing guitar on the subway, and Joey facing homicide charges, and it would’ve been interesting if not entertaining. ‘Friends’ could have been daring and deconstructed, if not self-destructed, its rather monotonous middlebrow milieu.

Instead, the new episode is like a reunion at a high school you didn’t attend, where you’re left out of the conversation and have to watch the cool kids reminisce about their awesome lives.

The problem with the reunion is that fans only care about Aniston, Schwimmer, Cox, Perry, Kudrow and LeBlanc because they were Rachel, Ross, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe and Joey. But Rachel, Ross, Monica, Chandler, Phoebe and Joey aren’t in the reunion, only Aniston, Schwimmer, Cox, Perry, Kudrow and LeBlanc are. A ‘Friends’ reunion only has power if it’s bringing those characters back together, not just bringing the cast back together.

Watching them sit around and recount funny stories and do some minimal table reads isn’t the slightest bit interesting or entertaining. It’s sort of like reassembling a famous band and having them talk about when they used to play music together, as opposed to actually having them play some music together.

To make things worse, the show is sometimes hosted by James Corden, and the only good thing about James Corden is when Ricky Gervais makes fun of him. For instance, at the 2020 Golden Globes Gervais gloriously quipped, “this year the world got to see James Corden as a fat pussy…and he was also in ‘Cats’!”  Sadly, the ‘Friends’ reunion has no Ricky Gervais, only James Corden.

Also unfortunate is having to watch David Beckham, Kit Harrington, Malala Yousafzai and Mindy Kaling tell us their favorite episodes, or Lady Gaga sing ‘Smelly Cat’, or Justin Bieber, Cara Delevingne and Cindy Crawford model silly ‘Friends’ costumes, or a relentlessly ‘diverse’ and ‘inclusive’ bunch of ‘Friends’ fans share how much the show means to them. All of which is just as awful and self-congratulatory as it sounds.

Ultimately, the ‘Friends’ reunion isn’t so much a testament to its greatness as it is a monument to the ravages of age. Father Time is still undefeated and proof of that is on the bloated, surgically supplemented faces of the cast. Lisa Kudrow aside, the entire cast has aged dramatically and dreadfully.

Courtney Cox and Jennifer Aniston were two of the most luminous beauties on television during the show’s heyday, but now if you saw them and their contorted faces in your bathroom at four in the morning, you’d think your house was haunted.

Both women constantly dabbed the corners of their eyes with tissues throughout the reunion, but it seemed less like they were crying and more like they were leaking from a deficient surgical seam.

In addition, Matt LeBlanc looks like he’s eaten a whole Joey and Matthew Perry looks like something is very wrong with him. I don’t mean that as a joke, Perry looks genuinely ill to the point of it being very disconcerting.

Regardless of the ravages of age on the cast, people have always watched ‘Friends’ for the escapist dopamine hit of some soft sitcom humor, but ‘Friends: The Reunion’ doesn’t have that, and is also shockingly devoid of even the dopamine hit of nostalgia.

In conclusion, ‘Friends’ hasn’t done anything interesting or worthwhile since the show ended in 2004, and some would argue the same was true during the show’s run. Rest assured, the unimaginative ‘Friends: The Reunion’ keeps that streak resolutely intact.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Final Account: Documentary Review and Commentary

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 58 seconds 

New Nazi documentary ‘Final Account’ is a powerful and prescient warning for our identity politics obsessed age

Luke Holland’s film, which chronicles the complicity of ordinary German’s in the crimes of the Third Reich, is a reminder that it’s easy to label our enemies as Nazis…but the true search for evil should begin with a look in the mirror.

The new documentary Final Account is a collection of interviews with elderly, ordinary Germans recounting their experiences of life under the collective madness of the Nazi regime and their connection to, or complicity with, the Holocaust.

The film opens with a quote from Primo Levi, “Monsters exist, but they are too few in number to be truly dangerous. More dangerous are the common men, the functionaries ready to believe and to act without asking questions.”

Director Luke Holland, whose mother lost her family in the Holocaust and who himself died of cancer in 2020 after the film’s completion but before its premiere, goes on to prove Levi’s thesis.

Holland began production in 2008 and ultimately interviewed 300 people for this fascinating project, and his bare-bones, oral history approach, works exquisitely well in revealing the banality of evil.

Holland’s subjects were indoctrinated into the Nazi system early in life. The women went through the League of German Girls, the men the Hitler Youth. The males then graduated to the Waffen SS, some becoming concentration camp guards and one becoming a member of Hitler’s elite body guards, the Leibstandarte.

Their recollections regarding the holocaust run the gamut. Some claim to have known nothing, while others say they heard whispers and gossip but were too afraid to speak up or act. Others give grudging admissions of complicity, while some admitted the egregiousness of the crime but doubt its scale. And one, a former member of the Leibstandarde, is unbowed by the weight of history.

This former bodyguard of Hitler says the Fuhrer was a great leader with a good plan, except that the Jews should’ve been deported and not exterminated. He’s so unabashedly defiant he refuses to accept the Nuremberg ruling that the Waffen SS, of which he was a member, was a criminal organization because “then I would dirty myself”. His reasoning is wrapped in patriotism as he explains that the Nuremberg court wasn’t a German court, and therefore lacks authority in his eyes.

Other stories reveal how Jew hatred and the Holocaust were normalized. Stories of children being taught anti-Semitic songs in school, reading books with derogatory Jewish depictions and being indoctrinated by teachers into Nazi ideology are common.

Tales of visiting camps in order to get a cavity filled from a dentist who was a prisoner, or of routinely seeing prisoners escorted to and from camps, some being worked or starved to death slowly before their eyes, are mundanely recounted.

None of these revelations are met with tears or even overt remorse, just a stern, steely-eyed matter of fact-ness.

The most compelling subject in the film is Hans Werk, a former member of the Waffen SS. Werk is at times elusive and at times defensive, but he evolves over a series of interviews.

The most electrifying moment in the entire film is when Werk goes to the sight of the Wannsee Conference, where Nazi leadership made official the Final Solution policy, to speak to a group of college students about his guilt.

After saying he is ashamed of what he did as a member of the SS, these students push back. At first it seems they’re resistant because they think he’s lying about his contrition, then it becomes clear they’re actually angry with him for his shame. They call him a traitor for being ashamed of being German and having fought for Germany.

This scene is electrifying because it’s the only time the veneer of control recedes and the beast comes to the surface baring its teeth. Werk is shaken by the young men confronting him, and his horror at the realization that the disease of Nazism has passed to a new generation is readily apparent on his face as he pleads with them to “don’t let yourself be blinded”.

Werk’s warning fell on deaf ears in that room, and across the globe as well. The Nazi disease, or as my Jungian therapist friend describes it – the “not-see” disease, is back in our collective psyche with a vengeance. “Not seeing” the humanity of the other has reached epidemic proportions.

The dehumanizing sentiment of Nazism is readily apparent in recent videos of Jews rampaging on the streets of Israel attacking Arabs, Palestinians roaming the streets of New York attacking Jews, blacks viciously attacking Asians and whites, militarized police brutalizing minorities and rioters wreaking racially motivated havoc, as well as in stories of Uighers being held in Chinese concentration camps.

This ugly sentiment is also found in the establishment approved Critical Race Theory, a shamelessly anti-white and anti-Asian ideology that demands people be judged by racial and ethnic categories instead of by the content of their character, which is now being used to indoctrinate students in schools and becoming the default setting in corporate American.

This industrialized effort at dehumanization is horrifyingly reminiscent of the process which created the legions of “functionaries ready to believe and to act without asking questions” which populate the Nazi nightmare of Final Account.

Final Account is not a great film, it is somewhat derivative in style as evidenced by its repeated use of a melancholy cello played over shots of hollowed out concentration camps, but it is most certainly a powerful and prescient one.

It is cold comfort that the collaborators and perpetrators of Nazi evil in Final Account will soon be dead of old age, for the spirit of Nazism is obviously alive and well in our world, living in all of our hearts, whether we have the courage to admit it or not.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT. 

©2021

The Me You Can't See: Review and Commentary

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 27 seconds

The navel gazing narcissism of Prince Harry’s mental health series The Me You Can’t See is not something you need to see

The series focuses too much on royal gossip and self-serving celebrities and not enough on how to help regular people struggling.

The Me You Can’t See is a five-part documentary about mental health issues produced by Oprah Winfrey and Prince Harry that premiered on May 21st on the streaming service Apple TV.  

The uneven series features interviews with Oprah and Harry, Lady Gaga, Glenn Close, and a plethora of regular people. Thankfully, unlike their thirsty celebrity counter parts, the segments featuring non-famous participants and unconventional approaches to mental health hold some value.

The most compelling of these regular-folk are the parents at the Selah Care Farm, who have lost children to suicide. Their brutal honesty and unfathomable, gut-wrenching grief are deeply moving and profound.

Equally compelling is the story of a young boy named Fawzi, a Syrian refugee living in Greece. The trauma Fawzi suffered in Syria is horrifying, but the doctor helping him heal is a beacon of hope for humanity.

Other captivating and insightful stories include Rashad, a black man suffering depression, Forget, a granny in Zimbabwe who provides mental health care in her remote area, Ambar, a young woman diagnosed with Schizophrenia, and Ian, a man with an egregiously traumatic childhood who takes part in a study on the hallucinogen psilocybin as a way for people to address their trauma, anxiety and depression.

Unfortunately, The Me You Can’t See doesn’t focus entirely on everyday people but instead wraps itself in the shallow Oprah aesthetic and the toxicity of celebrity and victimhood culture.

Oprah has long been painfully obtuse in regards to mental health and even admits as much on the show, but despite this admission she is still completely incapable of being anything other than a carnival barker and new age snake oil saleswoman, as The Me You Can’t See proves.

The big draw of the series is Prince Harry who’s featured throughout speaking about his journey to therapy, his struggle with the death of his mother, the “neglect” and “bullying” he suffered at the hands of the Royal family and his ultimate escape from it all.

Harry claims he began therapy four years ago at Meghan Markle’s insistence. What is so peculiar though is how completely devoid of self-awareness he seems to be.

For example, near the end of the series Harry says he “has never had any anger through this”, but he is obviously seething whenever he talks about the “firm”, the media and the paparazzi.

Harry seems to be in denial of his shadow, and it would serve him better to acknowledge this anger with the paparazzi in particular, because then he might come to better understand that the paparazzi is not the disease that killed his mother, it is merely a symptom.

The disease that killed Princess Diana was fame, and by moving to Hollywood, becoming enmeshed in the entertainment world, and putting himself front and center in this series, Harry is not shunning the beast that devoured her but embracing it.

The series is a frustrating viewing experience because while it tackles a worthwhile subject, it uses celebrity culture as the gateway into that discussion, which is the equivalent of serving booze at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

The reality is that celebrity and victimhood culture is a trauma upon our society just as much as fame is a trauma upon those who attain it because it confuses sadness with depression, nervousness with anxiety, and obstacles with trauma while breeding a populace of fantasists fueled by delusion and narcissism.

Oprah, Harry, Lady Gaga and the rest may genuinely suffer but their celebrity status makes their public struggle feel performative and self-serving. And in many cases if the famous wanted to decrease their anxiety and trauma they could do so by simply withdrawing from public life.

For instance, Harry claims that he and Meghan simply could not withstand negative media attention anymore. So, his solution was for them to start a production company, sign a deal with Netflix, do a huge interview with Oprah and publicly navel gaze on an Apple TV series. This is obviously self-defeating.

Also self-defeating is the rich and privileged Harry being filmed doing an EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing) therapy session where he recalls a trauma from his life and then hugs himself, rapidly moves his closed eyes and rhythmically taps his body. That treatment may be effective but it comes across as so ridiculous as to be a hyper-parody, and will set back working-class views of psychiatry two hundred years.

Ironically Fight Club’s Tyler Durden accurately diagnosed our current mental and emotional dis-ease and malaise much better than The Me You Can’t See when he said,

“Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war... Our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars, but we won't. We're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.”

And we’re very depressed and anxious too…and The Me You Can’t See would’ve been better served preaching as the antidote to those maladies the power of resilience, becoming comfortable with discomfort, and overcoming petty traumas and not identifying with them. Instead, the series is an often-vapid, victimhood touting, celebrity culture band-aid on a complex and cavernous existential spiritual and philosophical bullet wound.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

The Underground Railroad: Review and Commentary

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 19 seconds

This article contains minor spoilers for the series The Underground Railroad.

The Underground Railroad takes viewers on a long and ugly journey to nowhere

The highly anticipated drama about a runaway slave devolves into a vapid exercise in torture porn.

The Underground Railroad is the new critically-acclaimed limited series from Oscar winning filmmaker Barry Jenkins (Moonlight) now streaming on Amazon Prime.

The show, based on the Pulitzer prize winning novel by Colson Whitehead, tells the story of Cora, a slave who escapes the hell of a Georgia plantation by taking a train on a literal “underground railroad”.

Having the underground railroad be an actual subterranean train system as opposed to a collection of secret routes and safe houses is the lone piece of magic in this magical realist version of the much-told story of slavery in America.

Unfortunately, The Underground Railroad attempts to be profound and poignant but ends up being a shamelessly pretentious and egregiously pornographic arthouse poseur that reinforces the suffocating stasis of stereotypes by pandering, placating and patronizing to the lowest common racial denominator.

There are no insights to be found in this series, just a tenuous narrative and cardboard cutout characters used as torture and victimhood porn delivery systems.

Thuso Mbedu plays Cora and lacks the gravitas to carry the project. Mbedu is not a compelling actress and her decision to use a close-mouthed mumble as her dialect was a poor one, as I literally had to turn on the close caption in order to understand her (and only her).

Cora escapes the stereotypical cruel, fat white overseer and her viciously sadistic slave owner in Georgia, only to find the villainy and brutality of white supremacy is omnipresent across America.

In South Carolina she finds a society welcoming of blacks, but under that veneer she discovers the pulsating hatred of white supremacy in the form of eugenics. In North Carolina, the murder of blacks is ritualized as white supremacy is codified into law and religion. In Tennessee, white supremacy and its American imperative of expansion and domination has laid waste to the state and left it a veritable wasteland. In Indiana, blacks have carved out a seeming utopia, but the menace of white supremacy lurks on the margins ready to pounce at the slightest imagined provocation.

If that sounds narratively repetitious, it’s because it is.

The problem with The Underground Railroad in terms of storytelling is that Cora’s journey is simply physical and not a character arc. She undergoes no mythological, spiritual or psychological transformation at all. All Cora undergoes is one torture after another, with the only lesson learned being that all white people, including abolitionists, are awful if not evil.

The series is difficult to watch because of the relentless brutality, all of which seem gratuitous especially since there’s no emotional connection developed with the characters. All of the victims, Cora especially, are just one-dimensional punching bag props in the ten-hour diatribe against white supremacy. Maybe the novel does the hard work of character development, because the mini-series sure as hell doesn’t.

I couldn’t help but think of the cancelled-before-it-started HBO show Confederate, while watching The Underground Railroad. Confederate, which was the brain child of Game of Thrones show-runners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, imagined an alternate history where the Confederacy survived and slavery still existed. HBO backed away from the project in 2017 after social media went nuclear over the notion of “exploiting black suffering for the purposes of art and entertainment.”

The Underground Railroad is being hailed by critics despite doing that exact same thing.

Granted, the show is beautifully shot by cinematographer James Laxton, whose camera dances through the ugliness like a feather floating on a soft breeze, but using the best china and most elaborate garnish will not elevate a painfully thin gruel into a satisfying meal.

Director Barry Jenkins has said that he made The Underground Railroad to counter Trump’s slogan of “Make America Great Again”. “I think in that world there’s this vacuum in the historical record or this failure to acknowledge those things, then slogans like this, and even worse actions…will continue to proliferate. So I think it’s important to fill in those cavities and to acknowledge the truth of what this country is.”

Does Jenkins really think Americans, even lowly MAGA adherents, want a return of slavery? Or is he simply building an absurd strawman to give his vacuous mini-series some meaning in hindsight that it lacks upon viewing?

Jenkins strikes me as being as deluded about America as those people who in a recent poll believed that police killed over 10,000 unarmed black men in 2019.

He is as detached from reality as the MAGA monsters in his head that he sets out to counter with his magical realist enterprise The Underground Railroad.

The truth is that the story of how the savagery and barbarity of slavery in America distorted and damaged every soul and psyche it touched is an extremely important one, but there is no paucity of significantly better films and tv shows that express that horror more effectively. The iconic and epic Roots, the bone crushingly brilliant Best Picture winner 12 Years a Slave and even Quentin Tarantino’s exhilarating revenge fantasy Django Unchained are better resources worthy of your time because they create catharsis through creativity by utilizing originality, insightfulness and generating profundity.

Hell, even dismal cinematic efforts like Amistad, Beloved, Free State of Jones and The Birth of a Nation(2016) are superior to the slog that is this mini-series.

Ultimately, you have no need to buy a ticket to ride on The Underground Railroad because it’s an arduous ten-hour circular journey where you learn absolutely nothing and end up in the same damned place you started.

A version of this article was originally published at RT. 

©2021

It's Maybe the End of the Golden Globes...and I Feel Fine

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 29 seconds

The Golden Globes are moronic, but Hollywood’s boycott of them is the height of idiocy and hypocrisy

Hollywood is holding the Golden Globes to account, not for its blatant corruption, but because the skin tone of its members isn’t dark enough.

Shock waves were sent through Hollywood this week when the esteemed Golden Globes became the target of a virtue signaling blitzkrieg and boycott by some of the movie business’ heavy hitters.

I am kidding of course, the Golden Globes are certainly not esteemed and no one is shocked by Hollywood virtue signaling over anything anymore.

The whole absurd firestorm started with Netflix and Amazon declaring they’d no longer work with the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (HFPA), the parent organization of the Golden Globes. This was quickly followed by WarnerMedia joining in the boycott, Tom Cruise returning his three past awards, and then NBC declaring they wouldn’t telecast next year’s Golden Globes ceremony.

The HFPA are a notoriously corrupt and cinematically ignorant organization filled with people with only a passing and tenuous connection to the film industry. The HFPA’s awards, the Golden Globes, have long been a punchline for being so easily purchased by big studios looking to boost a movie’s profile and box office. These are the reasons why I am so glad that Hollywood is coming together to put an end to this blight on the movie business and blasphemy against the art of cinema.

I’m just kidding again, Hollywood doesn’t care about the Golden Globes being corrupt, instead, Netflix, Amazon, WarnerMedia, Tom Cruise and NBC are all piling on the Golden Globes because the HFPA, an organizationof roughly 90 individuals that is packed with “people of color” from Asia, India, the Middle East, and Central and South America, doesn’t have any members whose skin tone is dark enough to be considered “black”.

This horrifying lack of melanin caused such an uproar at this year’s ceremony that it led to one of the most unintentionally funny moments in the show’s history when HFPA members Meher Tatna and Ali Sar, an Indian woman and Turkish man respectively, sheepishly spoke about the organization’s dire need for “diversity” after being chastised by hosts Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, two white women, one of whom, Fey, rhad episodes of her hit tv show 30 Rock pulled from streaming circulation last year because they featured scenes with blackface. Only in Hollywood!

It’s hysterically funny to me, but not the least bit surprising, that Hollywood is not concerned by the HFPA’s relentlessly corrupt practices, just that no people with dark enough skin tone are getting in on the egregious grift.

Speaking of grift, it may come as a shock to learn that NBC’s decision to not telecast the Golden Globes this year might not exactly be entirely motivated by a wholesome yearning for diversity. According to reports, NBC pays the HFPA $60 million to televise the Golden Globes, with most of that money going to production costs, but by refusing to televise the awards, NBC saves the vast majority of that money.

Considering that the Golden Globes ratings were down 63% this year and only attracted 6.9 viewers, and that ratings and viewership for awards shows across the board are plummeting, this seems much more like a savvy business decision by NBC and not one of conscience.

NBC isn’t the only one signaling its virtue for self-serving reasons, Tom Cruise’s returning of his Golden Globes, which he won over twenty and thirty years ago for Born on the Fourth of July (1990), Jerry Maguire(1997) and Magnolia(2000), is not only utterly absurd but calculated and contrived.

Much like when Cruise was “caught on audio” chewing out crew members for violating covid protocols on the set of the newest Mission Impossible monstrosity, a scenario which struck me as being completely staged for publicity purposes, Cruise’s Golden Globes flex is a public-relations maneuver meant to generate talking points and good will when he is out shilling for his big movies this year, Top Gun: Maverick and Mission Impossible 7.

I assume Cruise is thinking that if he can distract people with his race-based virtue signaling people won’t notice how oddly contorted his face is becoming from plastic surgery. Not a bad plan.

I’m also assuming that Amazon is hoping that by signaling its phony virtue regarding race and the Golden Globes it can distract people from its horrendous treatment of its employees.

As for me, the Golden Globes have never been more than a Rickey Gervais delivery system, and an opportunity to watch rich, famous movie stars get drunk in public.

Gervais has hosted the show five times, each more glorious than the last. His final hosting gig was in 2020, before all of the covid unpleasantness, and it was a glorious thing to behold as he eviscerated the vacuous celebrities and their vapid awards with surgical precision and unabashed brutality.

I won’t miss the Golden Globes this year, and if they vanish forever, a distinct possibility, I could not care less. But with that said, I do wish that in their stead NBC gets Ricky Gervais in front of a room filled with movie stars and Hollywood big wigs and televises him comedically disemboweling them for their pretentious, self-serving nonsense. He could start with their ridiculous virtue signaling boycott of the Golden Globes over something so insignificant as skin tone.  

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Disney's Hostile Woke Work Environment

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 48 seconds

Insider documents reveal woke barbarians have breached the gates of the Disney Empire and transformed the ‘happiest place on earth’ into a totalitarian hellscape

Disney is going to find out the hard way that wokeness destroys everything that it touches.

In November 2019, Disney slapped a content warning on some of its classic animated movies. The warning read simply, “This program is presented as originally created. It may contain outdated cultural depictions.”

If you give the woke an inch, they’ll take a mile, and this was proven when less than a year later in October of 2020 when that concise and mundane warning was updated to state, “This program includes negative depictions and/or mistreatment of peoples or cultures. Rather than remove this content, we want to acknowledge its harmful impact, learn from it and spark conversation to create a more inclusive future together. Disney is committed to creating stories with inspirational and aspirational themes that reflect the rich diversity of the human experience around the globe.”

As I wrote at the time regarding the absurd verbosity of the updated warning, “…if brevity is the soul of anything than the Winston Smith wannabe who wrote this atrocious piece of human resources porn is as soulless as they are spineless and brainless.”

Thanks to journalist/filmmaker Christopher Rufo, who is the Woodward and Bernstein of all things woke-gate, we now know what sort of corporate cultural conditioning went into making the type of individual that would write such a woke monstrosity as that updated “content warning”.

In an article titled “The Wokest Place on Earth”, Rufo uses documents from whistleblowers inside Disney to reveal the woke racist hellscape that is the Walt Disney Corporation.

According to Rufo’s documents and statements from anonymous sources, Disney’s “diversity and inclusion” program “Reimagine Tomorrow” aggressively indoctrinates employees in woke politics and appears to create a hostile work environment for white employees.

The company has “launched racially segregated affinity groups” for minority employees such as Asians, Hispanics and blacks, but white employees are singled out for indoctrination and must fill out “white privilege” checklists and be grilled on their “white fragility”.

“Anti-racism”, which is little more than anti-white racism wrapped in intentionally vague and impenetrable academic language, has become the center of the company’s agenda, with “almost daily memos, suggested readings, panels, and seminars that [are] all centered around antiracism”.

Disney’s “white fragility” and “anti-racism” agenda is about “pivoting” from “white dominant culture”, which Disney describes as one that emphasizes “competition”, “power hoarding”, “predominantly white leadership”, “individualism”, “timeliness” and “comprehensiveness”.

 It’s pretty rich that Disney, which controls 40% of the U.S. box office after spending $83 billion buying up Pixar, Marvel, Lucasfilm and Fox in recent years, is lecturing low-level employees on the evils of “power hoarding” and “competition”.

As Rufo points out, it is equally rich that Disney’s four top executives, Bob Iger, Bob Chapek, Alan Bergman and Alan Braverman - white males with over a billion dollars of net worth, feel it appropriate to badger their hourly-wage employees to complete “white privilege” checklists and “work through feelings of guilt, shame, and defensiveness about their whiteness.”

Speaking of these Disney executives, if they were really interested in “pivoting” from “white dominant culture”, they’d start by addressing “predominantly white leadership” by getting their pasty white asses out of the seats of Disney power.

These pale-faced bastards could also eradicate “competition” and “timeliness” by letting people pay what they want and stay as long as they like at Disney theme parks resorts. This way Disney theme parks would be “inclusive” to homeless, poor and low-income people, including many people of color, who currently cannot afford the exorbitant prices.

They could also renounce all of Disney’s copyright claims on their vast resources of intellectual property, allowing anyone to use them for gain. Of course, they would never do any of those things.

Disney’s diversity and inclusion push is hypocritical nonsense too, as like all woke totalitarians, Disney actually has no interest in diversity of opinion or the inclusion of differing viewpoints, only in enforcing conformity, just ask Gina Carano.

Examples abound of how the malignancy of wokeness has spread and radically transformed Disney.

The Pixar movie Soul is a perfect example. Instead of letting two-time Oscar winning director Pete Doktor make the best movie possible, Disney went to hysterical heights to appease the woke gods of diversity in making its first Pixar movie with a black protagonist. This included using a corporate “inclusion strategies” department, creating a “cultural trust” of black employees, hiring outside consultants and black organizations, and hiring a black co-director.

Disney’s walk to wokeness looks like a Bataan death march for artistry and entertainment when you see the radical transformation of the Marvel properties. The rollicking, insightful yet fun-loving action movie sentiment of pre-Disney Iron Man (2008) has morphed into the lifeless, soul-sucking woke propaganda of Captain Marvel (2019) and the relentlessly preachiness of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021).

The all-powerful Disney is the Roman Empire of the entertainment industry, and the woke barbarians aren’t at the gate, they’re well inside the walls and sitting at the seat of power. These woke parasites don’t build things, they only destroy them by draining them of vitality and driving out talent. This is why Disney’s business model shifted from making its own original content to gobbling up content creators like Pixar, Marvel, Lucasfilm and Fox, and slowly sucking the life out of them.

Disney is going to learn that wokeness destroys everything it touches. It may take years or decades, but it’s just a matter of time before “get woke, go broke” becomes Disney’s reality and Mickey Mouse’s whole shit house goes up in flames. Good riddance.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Elon Musk and SNL

Elon Musk’s comedy debut crashes and burns on the SNL launch pad, but the mission was ultimately a success for him.

Musk haters were afraid his appearance on the iconic comedy show would humanize the “problematic” billionaire…and that’s exactly what happened.

Billionaire entrepreneur Elon Musk guest hosted Saturday Night Live last night and if laughs were rocket fuel, he wouldn’t make it to New Jersey never mind Mars.

To Musk’s great credit, he was totally out of his element but gave it his all and even poked fun at himself, but sadly, he was painfully unfunny. From the opening monologue, which included not only some stale O.J. jokes but an admission that he suffers from Aspergers and struggles to act human, Musk came across like some bizarre Andy Kaufman character.

To call Musk an awkward on-screen presence would be the height of understatements. His various roles on the relentlessly humorless show included a Gen Z slang speaking doctor, a horny Icelandic tv producer, a cryptocurrency expert, Wario the video game character, LeRon the genius cowboy and Elon Musk founder of SpaceX, and as game as he was, none of them actually worked.

Unfortunately, being the second richest man in the world and a genius at making cars and rockets does not translate into being funny, which was uncomfortably evident on Saturday night. On the bright side, Musk’s lack of comedic ability meant he fit right in with the rest of the SNL cast, which is a who’s who of “who’s that?”, and features some of the most talentless dopes and dullards imaginable.

It isn’t Elon Musk’s fault that last night’s show sucked. The once mighty SNL has been consistently abysmal for some time now. Long gone are the John Belushi, Gilda Radner and Bill Murray glory days, and comedy powerhouses like Eddie Murphy and Will Ferrell are not walking through that door at 30 Rock anymore. Instead, the dreadfully unfunny Kate McKinnon is the big star of the current cast, which is the comedy equivalent of having a one-legged hobbit be the best player on a basketball team.

When it was announced that Musk would be the guest hosting the show it generated a tsunami of controversy on twitter and in the media.

That negative narrative was further propelled by cast members Bowen Yang, Aidy Bryant and Chris Redd when they sent out snarky tweets denigrating Musk (which were later deleted) and producer Lorne Michaels letting it be known that cast members could opt out of scenes with Musk if they chose.

Ultimately no cast members boycotted scenes with Musk on Saturday night, and the show seemed not only lame but tame as far as controversy is concerned. But that doesn’t diminish the absurdity of SNL’s being so hyper-sensitivity regarding any unorthodox thinkers or alternative, contrarian viewpoints. The pre-Musk show uproar only highlighted how far the old comedy warhorse of SNL, which used to be subversive, anti-establishment and edgy, has fallen, and shows how it is now the type of stuffy, sensitive, entitled, pampered lap dog to the establishment it used to rightfully lampoon.

Musk is definitely a polarizing figure, but I have to admit…I don’t exactly understand why. I am unquestionably no fan of the billionaire class but the goofy, bizarre, loose-cannon Musk is the version of a billionaire I prefer over the super-creepy, serial killer looking types like Zuckerberg, Gates and Bezos.

Make no mistake, Musk is an oddball and egomaniac, but unlike the narcissistic charlatans running the rigged Wall street casinos that socialize losses and privatize gains, or the self-righteous Silicon Valley overlords who exploit people while suffocating free speech and toxifying the culture, Musk isn’t predatory and actually builds tangible things, like electric cars and reusable rockets.

I assume Musk’s appearance on the show and the controversy swirling around it will probably lead to a slight bump in the ratings, which was obviously the whole point of having him on in the first place. And no doubt there will be Musk haters slamming him for his dreadful performance and cursing Lorne Michaels and SNL for giving Musk a platform.

The greatest concern of these Musk haters though was summed up by late night comedy veteran Daniel Kellison when he told the Washington Post that the problem with Musk’s appearance on SNL is that it “humanizes problematic people”. God forbid we commit the sin of “humanizing” someone deemed “problematic” by the hordes of hysterical woke inquisitors forever shouting on Twitter.

Well, I hate to tell Kellison and the other Musk haters, but as bad as Musk was on the show, and he was bad, it definitely did “humanize” him. He was so awkward and uncomfortable on screen it was surprisingly sort of endearing. Musk came across not as some slick billionaire blowhard who is too cool for school, but rather as some regular nerd who gets super anxious and nervous talking to people and being on tv.

So despite Elon Musk being terribly unfunny and the show being as devoid of laughs as the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster, Musk’s appearance was actually a big success for Musk. While he failed at comedy, he did succeed in exposing his haters for their pettiness and in getting me to root for him. I just hope he is better at getting humanity to Mars than he is at getting me to laugh.  

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

The Oscar Train Wreck

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 20 seconds

My biggest question regarding last night’s egregiously bungled and boring Oscar telecast is…if an awards show collapses but no one is watching, does it make a sound?

Interest in the Oscars has been in steep decline for years now, and after suffering through the entire three hour and twenty-minute show last night I can dutifully report that the 93rd Academy Awards came in with a whimper and left with a whimper too.

The night’s climactic moment was a dud as the show ran long, as usual, and then rushed to announce Best Actor, which everyone thought would be an emotional moment as it was expected to go to the late Chadwick Boseman. The award instead went to went to Anthony Hopkins. Uh-oh.

Hopkins is most deserving of the award, but his victory will no doubt spur more cries of “racism” from the usual woke suspects. Adding to the discomfort was the fact that Hopkins wasn’t present at the show, and so the telecast ended basically with everybody standing around looking at one another like they were waiting for a train.

Speaking of which, the show was held at Los Angeles’ Union Station – which is a train station, which is apropos since the show was an absolute train-wreck.

Union Station is known as a hub for hordes of homeless in Los Angeles, and I’m sure that as much as homeless people have defecated in that public space over the years they’ve never made a stink as odious as Oscar’s producer Steven Soderbergh did last night.

Soderbergh put his stamp on the show as he shot it like a movie, with more handheld cameras than static shots, and by mixing up the order of awards. For instance, contrary to previous Oscar ceremonies Best Director came early in the proceedings and Best Picture wasn’t the last award.

Of course, the Oscars are going to be the Oscars, so the show was filled with the usual rambling speeches, self-righteous political pandering, and the airing of racial grievances, but what it didn’t have was any clips of the nominated work. Want to see the nominated cinematography, acting, costumes, hair and makeup or production designs? Not on Soderbergh’s watch!

Instead Soderbergh had presenters share inane “fun factoids” about each nominee like a kindergarten teacher handing out Valentine’s Day cards in class. This was accompanied by a roving camera desperately whirling around searching the room for these unfamous nominees like a toddler lost in a train station frantically looking for its parents.

The lowlight in the evening of lowlights was a “music game” where nominees guessed if a song played by DJ Questlove (who replaced the traditional orchestra) was an Oscar winning song. This hapless and ham-handed bit deteriorated into Glenn Close pretending she knew the song “Da Butt” and then humiliating herself by getting up and doing “Da Butt” dance. If Glenn Close ever had a relationship with dignity, it ended in a ferocious divorce last night.

The entire endless evening felt like one long extended version of Glenn Close doing “Da Butt”, and conjured all the gravitas of a junior high school drama club awards night.

The Oscars did make history though regarding diversity with “artists of color” winning two of the four acting categories and Chloe Zhao being the first woman of color ever to win Best Director and Best Picture.

So maybe #OscarsSoWhite has transformed into #OscarsSoWhat*? Unfortunately, I’m sure the Academy would prefer even the righteous anger of racial resentment to the overwhelming apathy that hangs over the festivities like a toxic cloud of poisonous gas.

Even the stars who came out to aid Soderbergh in his time of need, like Halle Berry and Harrison Ford, looked disinterested. The usually luminous Berry looked like she had slept at Union Station or was suffering a hellacious flu when she presented an award, while Ford just seemed like he was baked off his ass as he mumbled through a presentation.

Soderbergh did not limit the award winners in the length of their speeches, which led to some unnecessary verbosity, but also to some moments of profundity. Director Thomas Vinterberg’s speech after winning Best International Feature Film for Another Round, was painfully poignant as he spoke about the tragic death of his daughter Ida during filming.

In contrast, Frances McDormand’s grating short speeches managed to remind everyone she’s the most annoying person in all of Hollywood, which is an achievement even greater than her three Best Actress Oscars.

As shrill and grating as she is, McDormand’s movie Nomadland was the biggest winner of the night as it won Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actress.

The biggest losers of the night though were any poor bastards like me who stayed up to watch, and of course, the Academy Awards themselves.

If last night’s abysmal Oscar ceremony proves anything it is that the Academy Awards are on the fast track to irrelevancy, and even though the show ran late, that train left Union Station right on time.  

*Joke courtesy of Leo - Da Irish Poet!

A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021