RUTHFULLY YOURS

https://quadrant.org.au/magazine/2019/01-02/mars-dreaming/

For a dead and apparently lifeless planet, Mars certainly gets more that its share of attention. From HG Wells and Edgar Rice Burroughs to Ron Howard and, most recently, Sean Penn, the distant red orb has proven irresistible to any and all with more than an ounce of imagination.

Since the publication of The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells in 1897, popular imagination has been drawn to the idea of humans travelling to, and colonising, the planet Mars. Every decade new books and films are released exploring scenarios about whether life exists or ever existed on Mars, whether Martians would be benign or hostile, and whether the planet could sustain human life, should we be able to figure out a way to get there and settle. Although we have landed men on the moon, that journey was a mere 384,000 kilometres from Earth, whereas Mars is 54.6 million kilometres away.

The latest Mars dreaming is the eight-episode series created by the British television network Channel 4, and US streaming service Hulu, The First, starring Sean Penn. It was created by Beau Willimon, the writer-producer behind the American adaptation of the BBC’s House of Cards.

The drama in the premiere season of The First takes place in the not-too-distant future and focuses on the astronauts, their families, and the ground crew, rather on the flight or the experiences on Mars. Rob Thomas, of the Capital Times, wrote:

Beau Willimon seems to be atoning for House of Cards with his new Hulu series The First. Whereas Netflix’s first big hit often focused on the worst about humanity—not just evil but ambition, greed and weakness—his new show, The First, reminds us of the best about us.

https://www.frontpagemag.com/fpm/272973/what-you-didnt-miss-oscars-bruce-bawer

Who watches the Academy Awards anymore? Movies are worse than ever. TV is better than ever. Who wants to go to a movie theater nowadays and worry about picking up bedbugs from the seats, having a rat scurry up your leg in the dark, or getting into a fracas with some psycho over the armrest? I haven’t seen any of the films nominated for an Oscar this year, and didn’t even realize the Oscars were being televised last night until a couple of hours before the show came on.

But I watched it anyway. Not because I cared who won or lost, but because I was curious to gauge the extent to which the Hollywood establishment was still clinging to the whole identity-group thing. Answer: a lot. Almost every pair of award presenters consisted of a white person of one sex and a person of color of the other sex. Also, it was obvious that these egomaniacs had recovered entirely from the brief humiliation of the #metoo movement – and had unashamedly resumed their sacred job of instructing us peons in how to think about race, sex, politics, etc.

Some highlights, in chronological order.

https://www.nationalreview.com/2019/02/the-tree-of-life-masterpiece-film-director-terrence-malick/

Set aside your devices and diversions for two hours, and you’ll see something wonderful.

‘There are two ways through life — the way of nature and the way of grace,” remarks the saintly mother at the outset of The Tree of Life, one of the most awe-inspiring films of the 21st century. She continues:

Grace doesn’t try please itself. It accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked, accepts insults and injuries. Nature only wants to please itself, get others to please it. . . . It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining around it and love is smiling through all things.

I wonder what the TV Guide capsule of Terrence Malick’s inspired, autobiographical meditation on a Christian existence might say. How about: “Three members of a midcentury Texas family deal with an unbearable loss over the course of years. Also, there are dinosaurs.” Malick makes some daring, strange, brilliant choices whose connections reveal themselves only gradually and obliquely.

Starting with an epigraph from Job (“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth?”), Malick meditates on a family much like his own, shifting among the perspectives of Mr. O’Brien (Brad Pitt), a strict and sometimes brutish disciplinarian; his wife (Jessica Chastain), an angel in a housedress; and Jack, one of their three sons (played by Hunter McCracken as a boy and Sean Penn as an adult). Malick wends his way through the interior monologues of these three as they reflect on their lives together in the 1950s, their responses to a catastrophic event, and the mystery of consciousness.

https://www.nationalreview.com/2019/02/gosnell-movie-late-term-abortion-new-york-virginia/

A new law in New York legalizes the actions for which abortionist Kermit Gosnell was sent to prison for life.

Rarely has a new movie become available at a time when the news made its subject matter timelier and more appropriate. Gosnell: The Trial of America’s Biggest Serial Killer is the true story of a doctor who went to prison for life in 2013 for stabbing several infants he had delivered alive inside his hellhole of an abortion clinic in Philadelphia. After being almost completely ignored by critics during its release last year, last week the movie went on sale in Walmart and on Amazon, where it is the No. 1 best-selling dramatic DVD. At the same time, infanticide became a key issue in major stories in Virginia and New York.

Last week, Virginia governor Ralph Northam became engulfed in a controversy over whether he had appeared in his medical-school yearbook in costume, either in blackface or in the white sheet and hat of a Ku Klux Klan member. The photo came to light because a medical-school classmate of Northam’s was appalled at the governor’s candid support for a bill that would remove many restrictions on late-term abortion. While the media outrage was largely directed at his alleged racist actions 35 years ago, the abortion bill was promptly killed in committee, hours after Northam had been overly honest in describing what the bill would allow.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/never-look-away-review-towering-art-as-high-drama-11549578464?mod=cx_picks&cx_navSource=cx_picks&cx_tag=video&cx_artPos=6#cxrecs_s

When your debut feature wins an Oscar—and almost universal acclaim—the path ahead probably leads downhill. That was the case for the German filmmaker Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck. His electrifying 2006 political thriller, “The Lives of Others,” set in the former East Germany, explored state-sponsored surveillance, the beauty of empathy, and what it means to be human. His second film, “The Tourist,” starred Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp in a silly Hollywood confection about gangsters and mistaken identity; it left Mr. Donnersmarck’s admirers wondering how he would climb back from such a steep descent. “Never Look Away,” in German with English subtitles and entering national release this week, provides the answer: by taking on, with formidable if not total success, a mountainous subject—the power of art as exemplified by an artist who resembles the towering figure of Gerhard Richter, and as dramatized in a fateful family saga across three eras of German history.

Either of those two elements might have been ambitious enough to fill a conventional feature. This one, which runs a few minutes more than three hours, is filled to overflowing, though only occasionally does it seem overlong. (An extended sequence about the avant-garde scene in postwar Dusseldorf conspicuously verges on self-parody.) And as befits a story about the visual arts, it was shot by the great American cinematographer Caleb Deschanel, who gave us the peerlessly pure images in Carroll Ballard’s “The Black Stallion.”

Mr. Donnersmarck’s artist hero, Kurt Barnert (Tom Schilling), offers a perfect pretext for re-examining his nation’s calamitous past, from the rise of the Nazis before World War II through postwar division to unification in unimagined peace and prosperity. “Never Look Away” is equally about the suffering Kurt’s family endures during much of that time, and about Kurt’s art—how he makes it, how it changes him and those it touches. The details of his life sometimes hew closely to those of Mr. Richter’s; at other times they’re freely fictionalized. (The fraught relationship between the filmmaker and Mr. Richter, arguably the world’s pre-eminent living artist, was recently examined in a New Yorker piece by Dana Goodyear.) Rich as the film may be in aesthetic considerations—very rich indeed—it’s the startling arc of Kurt’s life story that sustains the dramatic narrative.

https://quillette.com/2019/02/06/dear-white

When Netflix’s Dear White People made its debut in April, 2017, the show immediately impressed viewers with the complex emotional multitudes it contained—showing its characters to be what author Cheryl Strayed once described as “flawed, and capable of redemption.” The plot focuses closely on the inner lives of black students at Winchester University, a fictional, predominately white Ivy League school that originally was brought to life in a 2014 film of the same name. Creator Justin Simien, who also wrote and directed the film, demonstrates that there is always more to people than what meets the eye.

Coleandrea “Coco” Conners is a young woman who adds weave to her hair and shortens her name in order to become accepted into a Black sorority. Is this an affirmation of black pride or the upholding of European beauty standards? Or both—or neither? When confronted by another student about showing up to a party where white attendees wore blackface, Coco says, “This might come as a shock to you, but these people don’t give a fuck about no Harriet motherfucking Tubman. They pay millions of dollars on their lips, their tans, their asses, Jay-Z tickets, because they want to be like us. And they got to be for a night. I’m not about to go out in the streets and protest a fucking Halloween party.”

Reggie Greene is a fierce activist for his people, and is constantly challenging them to fight for their rights in the face of injustice. But does that mean every white person he encounters who disagrees with him on race issues is a racist? What if a white friend uses the N-word—but does so in reference to a popular rap song in which the word figures prominently?

https://pjmedia.com/spengler/netflix-as-death-cult/

Stop believing in God, G.K. Chesterton is misquoted, and you will believe in anything. A suggested corollary: Stop believing in eternal life and you will be obsessed with death. Human beings can’t bear mortality without the hope of immortality. As we abandon the old faiths, we confront our own mortality naked and afraid. That, I think, explains the extraordinary surge in the horror genre during the past twenty years. It also helps explain the improbably high valuation of Netflix stock.

In 2015 I observed in an essay for the Claremont website:

Ten years ago the horror genre, thrillers with an expressly supernatural element, supplied one out of 25 film industry products. By 2013 the proportion had risen to one in eight. Horror films touch a number of sore points in the American psyche. But the strangest thing about the horror boom is the popularity of zombies. 1968 was the year of the Tet Offensive, the Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy assassinations, and global student riots. It is also the year that Night of the Living Dead first transplanted zombies from Caribbean settings to the American heartland. We’ve had nearly 2,600 zombie movies since—500 more than vampire pictures, and nearly 1,000 more than cowboy films. If the cowboy was the emblematic American in the time of Frederick Jackson Turner, the numbers argue that zombies are just as representative today.

That was before Netflix. I finally got around to watching at least part of Bird Box, in which a supernatural entity evokes the worst fears of every individual on earth, resulting in mass suicide. This apparently is Netflix’s most popular offering of the moment. It is preposterous trash, but clearly has struck the national nerve. Then there is Bandersnatch, in which the viewer can choose a number of alternative paths to an inevitable series of violent deaths. The point of the exercise is that choice is illusory and the characters are doomed no matter what.

http://politicalmavens.com/index.php/topic/politics/

If you happen to be a 6′9″ inch German man named Florian Maria Georg Christian Graf Henckel von Donnersmarck, it’s not surprising that you would be comfortable with an oversized movie that plays longer than Gone With the Wind. At over 3 hrs, the film needs editing and shortening but if you cut it to 2 1/2 hrs., you’d have a minor masterpiece. Even in its present frame, it’s a powerful and moving experience merging World War II with post-war communist Germany seen through the filter of a budding artist searching for his authentic and singular form of expression.

It begins with a visit to the Degenerate Art Exhibition organized by the Nazis against Jewish artists and others who defied classical standards. A beautiful young woman accompanies her very young nephew who loves to draw and we quickly learn of her quirkiness and his talent – two themes that are harbingers of his and her life stories. Hitler’s arm rapidly extends from art to disabled and mentally deficient people and the lovely but erratic Elisabeth is first hospitalized until more drastic measures are taken. As the young boy, Kurt, grows up, we see the further damage that Nazi control wreaks on his family, but he remains dedicated to becoming an artist and enrolls in a school in Dusseldorf where he is exposed to all the trendy aspects of the art world in the 60’s and 70’s, trying desperately to determine how he can contribute something original to a very crowded and chaotic scene.

https://quillette.com/2019/01/14/jihadists

Jihadists (dir. François Margolin and Lemine Ould Salem, Cinema Libre Studio 2018, 75m)

Some years ago, when assessments of the Arab Spring were at their most optimistic, it became common to hear it suggested that al-Qaeda was, if not defeated entirely, then virtually irrelevant. And yet, with all eyes on the Middle East, towns and cities in Mali would soon be falling like dominoes to al-Qaeda and its Islamist allies. This was the context in which two French filmmakers, François Margolin and Lemine Ould Salem, boldly journeyed to North Africa to document life in territory now governed by sharia law. The result of that trip is an extraordinary documentary entitled Jihadists, an unprecedented, unflinching, and unsettling glimpse into life under Islamist control.

While it is increasingly hard to miss the existence of this totalitarian ideology, the same cannot be said for Margolin and Salem’s film. Worried that Jihadists offered no dissenting voices to counter the extremists featured in the film, France’s National Center of Cinematography expressed concern that, rather than repel people, the film’s stark portrait of Islamic rule might instead serve as Islamist propaganda. The French government agreed, and the film was subsequently handed an “18” certificate—a classification both rare and prohibitive in France. According to Margolin, no documentary has been rated “18” in decades. As a result, Jihadists opened in only three theatres rather than the initially slated 30. It will have a belated American premier on January 25 in New York, followed shortly thereafter by a limited run in Los Angeles. That the film continues to struggle to draw widespread coverage is hardly surprising. Its topic and conclusions run contrary to the prevailing zeitgeist. This is a pity, because Jihadists is a powerful and important document that deserves a bigger audience.