Thursday 25 April 2013

Zero Dark Gangster Squad?








War has been declared. Your enemy does not play by the rules, and that makes him very powerful, so powerful that you can see no way of winning this war if you keep to the rules.

So when those in authority say that in order to win you will have to operate outside the rules and undertake ‘extra-legislative’ operations, this is a relief. Now you can fight the enemy on a level playing field, you can play his game, and win. And you must win. Losing this war is unthinkable. And so, with great courage and at enormous personal cost, you wage this new kind of war. And you do win. Because of the ‘extra-legislative’ – illegal – nature of your efforts you cannot be publicly recognized or rewarded. But you know what you did, and you know that in the end you won. Maybe one day someone will make a film about it, and you will be recognized, even anonymously, as truly heroic.

Two recent films, Gangster Squad, and Zero Dark Thirty could be said to illustrate this scenario, and although they are very different they raise similar ethical questions.

Gangster Squad is a fictional dramatisation ‘based on a true story’ of the war fought in 1949 between the mobster Mickey Cohen and the Los Angeles Police Department – or rather one special squad, recruited by the Chief of Police, to fight Cohen with his own weapons and with his own disregard for the law. These policemen left their badges at home and behaved as if they were just another gangster mob. And in the end, we are told, they defeated him. So they are heroes of this movie, unsung until now.

Zero Dark Thirty is the story, also based we on truth, of the CIA’s post 9/11 war on Osama bin Laden. Obama, like Cohen, operated outside the law. Cohen was a gangster, bin Laden was a terrorist. In order to defeat him the CIA operated outside the legal constraints of the Geneva Convention and International Jurisprudence; especially those surrounding the detaining and treatment of prisoners and the conduct of interrogations. It is now clear that during this ‘war’ foreign suspects were kidnapped outside America by the CIA or their surrogates, taken to secret locations and tortured. That torture included waterboarding. The CIA was assured by their government that because they were at war these activities were not illegal. And this was a war that had to be won.

Gangster Squad generally avoids the ethical and moral questions raised by its narrative because they are superfluous to its purpose. The sole purpose of this movie is to make money. This ‘gangster movie’ apes the film noir genre, but it is not truly film noir, which usually explored how integrity was challenged, how good people can make bad decisions and then pay for them. Even if the protagonist eventually won through, or at least survived, the cost was always high. Real noir was character based and almost inevitably tragic. Gangster Squad uses fine actors to portray cardboard thin roles with no depth beyond stock clichés, lazy identifying habits, or the traits necessary to forward the plot. Anthony Mackie’s character is skilled at knife throwing, reminding us of Britt in The Magnificent Seven. Nothing else in Gangster Squad reminds of that film. Ryan Gosling, as Jerry Wooters, plays tricks with this Zippo lighter. The cops raise few questions about the honour of what they are being recruited to do by Sgt O’Mara, played by the square jawed Josh Brolin, but we are left in no doubt that they are heroes. O’Mara displays no subtlety of thought, morality or tactics. He simply goes in with Tommy guns blazing. The only justification for any decision he makes is that it will usher in the next chase or gunfight. As one of the Squad remarks, Cohen is not being out thought, he is simple being out gunned, but the line is not pursued. It is also true that the squad’s ’intelligence officer’, as played by Giovanni Ribisi, does develop some moral qualms, but O’Mara’s attempt to distance him from the cop’s violence tragically backfires. In the end the Squad wins the war, and as O’Mara says, if you win the war you’re a hero. But of course the genre demands that the victory has to sealed not only with a climactic gunfight but also a mano e mano fist fight between O’Mara and Cohen.

This film is about glamour and violence; the glamorisation of violence. It’s message is simple, might is right, and if you have to use your might in ways that are illegal, that’s OK, as long as you win. It has much less moral weight than most of the recent films adapted from cartoons. It is the police procedural version of 24.

24 links us, of course with Zero Dark Thirty. I believe that 24 is the most dangerous and corrupting popular TV series ever made. Its star, Kieffer Sutherland, played Jack Bauer of the American Counter Terrorist Unit (CTU). This show premiered on November 6, 2001, two months after 9/11, and ran for 192 episodes, until May 24, 2010. It won many awards, including the Golden Globe as Best Drama Series of 2003 and the Emmy as Outstanding Drama Series of 2006. Its message was also clear. There are no means that cannot and should not be used if they are necessary to save us from disaster. It is therefore justifiable to torture anyone, even to death, if the information gained will save the lives of thousands. This stance was admired and adopted by the Bush Administration and, it seems, by members of the US military and intelligence operatives. It must be said, however, that I know of no occasion in modern history when this justification has been proven necessary. Professional interrogators know that torture does not provide reliable evidence. Anyone who has read up on the ‘intelligence’ that triggered the 2nd invasion of Iraq knows that was it was offered up by Khalid Sheikh Mohammed when, after being repeatedly waterboarded, he decided to tell his interrogators what they wanted to hear; that Saddam Hussein did indeed have WMD, rather than continue to tell them the truth, which was that Hussein did not have WMD. Most people being interrogated eventually work out what their captors want to know.

Zero Dark Thirty has been criticized for not condemning the methods used by the CIA, and this lack of condemnation has been seen as approval. But Mark Boal and Katherine Bigelow have made it clear that it was not their intention to condemn or approve. Mark Boal is an investigative journalist. Katherine Bigelow is a film maker. Together they wanted to record on film what Boal had to report about what happened during the decade-long hunt for Osama bin Laden, and do so as accurate as possible. Katherine Bigelow has said that ‘depiction is not endorsement’ (open letter in the LA Times) and they refuse to be the counsel for the defence, or for the prosecution. They are content to leave judgement to their audience. Jason Clarke, who plays the CIA interrogator seen waterboarding at the start of the film, has said ‘It’s all one the screen….let the film speak. I think the film does an amazing job of speaking, if you want to listen.’ (The Guardian Guide 19th January p 18).

In one of the many interviews conducted after the film’s release Jessica Chastain said that she recognized the growing obsession of her character, the CIA operative Maya. This obsession can become all consuming. Maybe this reflects the way in which the America became obsessed, in varying degrees, from its populace, to its politicians, to its military and intelligence personnel. Such obsession does not necessarily make people wrong, but it can narrow their vision dangerously.

Jason Clarke was asked how he got through the harrowing torture scenes. He said that ‘you read the script, you see that this is the job to be done, this is what the Director wants, and you do it’. This could also be the attitude of the CIA character he plays. Both might say ‘in such a situation, despite your own qualms, you just do what ‘the script’ says, what the Director wants, and the Director – either of the film or of the CIA - has to be right. He or she sees the full picture. You have to trust them, and do the job,’ The psychological and emotional costs are simply part of the necessary sacrifices made, in obedience. This is their Duty. But these activities have consequences, both personal and political.

The hunt for Osama bin Laden changed the character of American politics. Clauswitz told us that war is the extension of politics by other means. When kidnapping, rendition, illegal imprisonment and torture – including waterboarding – become part of how a nation fights its wars, they become part of its political make-up too.

The North Koreans used waterboarding during the war in the 1950s. It was condemned as monstrous. If we behave like the monsters – or mobsters - we are trying to defeat, we become monsters ourselves.

Gangster Squad never seriously questions the illegal activities of its protagonists, and it leaves us in no doubt that the are its heroes. We are told that Zero Dark Thirty does not claim that bin Laden’s capture was made possible by information gained through torture, but is clear that torture took place. It does not justify – or heroify – the actions of those taking part in these activities. It simply presents them to our gaze. It may be that it is moral by not being moralizing. Liberal Hollywood, it seems, has difficulty with that idea, and the film and its makers have sometimes been shunned and booed.

We have to see this film ourselves before we can make up our own minds, but that seems to be the invitation it offers. Watch, and judge for ourselves. Gangster Squad, on the other hand, wants to make our judgements for us.



Bob Vernon.


That Was The Week of Movies That Was!



Last week my friend Duncan stayed with me here in Clare.   For him it was a kind of retreat, which meant walking, photography, food, Guinness and movies. Duncan is a film fan too.   In fact he runs his own movie Blog, Meaning in Movies, which I strongly recommend for his thoughtful reviews and gentle moral faith-based critiques.

We watched a number of movies together, and every morning Duncan would write up his review of the previous night's show.   Duncan reviews every film he sees. That is (part of) his discipline.    Despite our shared interests in film, food, walking, photography and Guinness, we are otherwise very different. We come from different places, geographically, psychologically  and theologically. In Myers-Briggs personality type terms we are opposites.   I am extrovert, intuitive, promoting feelings over analysis; Duncan is not.   He was brought up in a strict Scottish evangelical household.   I did not go to church until I was eleven, and then attended a middle of the road Anglican   school chapel. Duncan has been a missionary. I was a soldier. And yet. We were both eventually drawn to adopt a liberal attitude to scripture, theology and ethics. I am sure I still say and do things that cause Duncan to raise his eyes in (mock?) horror. But we get along fine. Complementarity is a good thing.

So.   I thought it would be interesting to review last week’s movies alongside  Duncan, and let you see if, and how, we differ in our approach and judgments.

The films we saw together were;
Silver Linings Playbook, Code Unknown, True Grit, Au Revoir les Enfants, Blade Runner, and Winter's Bone.  

Do visit his Meaning In Movies to read his reviews.

I think that Silver Linings Playbook is a rare thing in a number of ways.   It is a feel-good movie about mental disorder that does not play down the dark side of such illnesses.    It takes a young new star, Jennifer Lawrence, and allows her to do something different, rather that stereotype her talent.    It allows another actor, Bradley Cooper,  who is already well established in one genre,  to also explore a new range, and it gives Robert de Niro a chance to do what he is so good at; character acting.

I have seen Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone, and showed Duncan that hard but brilliant film because he was so impressed by Lawrence's performance in Silver Linings, and I wanted to show him her range.    Her last movie, The Hunger Games is competent, but hardly stretched Lawrence's acting muscles).

The differences between Bone and Silver are striking.    Bone is bleak, filled with tense fearful or fear inducing characters inhabiting a dismal community set in harsh grey landscape, living lives of stark rural poverty or crack based criminality.    I showed this film to my previous congregation as part of my ‘Speaking Truth To Power' season.   In it 17 year old Dee. played by Lawrence, has to confront her family and neighbours to discover the truth they do not want to reveal; the location of her bail-skipping father. Unless he turns up in court the house Dee shares with her severely depressed mother and two younger siblings will be forfeited, along with the timber acres that provide their only security.   Lawrence's ability to show us Dee's courageous stoicism, determination and willingness to confront both her own fears and the aggressive opposition of those 'in the know' in a subtle and understated way is remarkable.    John Hawkes plays her uncle with a coiled tension and latent dangerousness, while Dale Dickey, as Dee’s cousin/aunt (?) Merab shows that the female of the species can be – if not deadlier – then as hard hitting as the male.   The script and direction draw us deeper and deeper into this underbelly of American life.    But the journey is well worth taking.

Silver Linings is set in the suburbs. The colours are bright, the characters well-meaning (if confused) and the main danger is of mutual mis-understanding.    Bradley Cooper's character has issues of anger-management and compulsive behavior.   So does his father, played by de Niro.    Lawrence plays a young widow, struggling with her loss. The traits she seems to share with Dee are her courage and determination.    They share nothing else,   Lawrence is utterly captivating, displaying an agility, both physical and emotional, that Bone did not allow her to express.   She deserved her Oscar.   Silver Linings does not pull its punches, but offers and fulfils hope. Calling it 'feel good' is a compliment.   I really left the cinema feeling very good. I had not seen Cooper before. He made his name in films that do not appeal to me. But I enjoyed his performance here, convincing and sympathetic, slowly coming to terms with his delusions and confusions.

True Grit is the Coen brother's translation of Charles Portis's novel of the same name.  It is not a remake of the 1969 John Wayne film version.   One of the things I liked was the language.   Most Westerns put modern American accents and speech patterns into the mouths of 19th  century characters.   But so many of the Westerners came from Scotland, Ireland, Wales and elsewhere in Europe.   Many years ago the film Silverado had John Cleese as a very English Sheriff, and there are un-American  accents in True Grit too. But more than that,  there is no vocal elision.  No one says won’t, don’t or can’t.  They say would not, do not, and cannot, staying true to the period.    

Just as Gary Oldman stepped into and filled Alex Guinness's shoes in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, so in this film Jeff Bridges fills John Wayne's boots as Marshall Rooster Coburn.  The original movie was an unapologetic vehicle for Wayne, but in the Coen brother's film the honours, and the true grit quality, are equally shared between Coburn and Mattie, played by Hailee Steinfeld.  The 14 year old Mattie is a determined young woman in pursuit of her father's killer.  Seinfeld is remarkable, and the Coen Brother obviously knew how to draw out an impressive performance from this young professional.    This was her first full length feature film, and I look forward to her next film, to see what range she can show.   She now has  thirteen films in post or pre-production, including Julian Fellowes’ adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, the SF movie Ender’s Game (with Harrison Ford and another young star, Abigail Breslin)  and Tommy Lee Jones’ The Homesman.     Matt Damon is rewardingly cast against type, in fact so against type that some viewers did not recognize him until well into the film.  Josh Brolin, Domhnall Gleeson ( Brendan’s lad)  and Barry Pepper add supporting roles.  The  photography (by Roger Deakin) and music (Carter Burwell) are used to good effect, as they were in the Coen's  No Country for Old Men, but to very different purposes.    I admired No Country immensely. I enjoyed True Grit enormously.

Then two French films, Code Unknown and Au Revoir les Enfants.                   Code Unknown: Incomplete Tales of Several Journeys was Michael Haneke’s first French film, and he was encouraged to make it by Juliet Binoche,  who later joined him again to make Cache, or Hidden.     (It has to be said that neither Duncan nor I would find it easy to resist any encouragement from Ms Binoche!)     Haneke is a disciplined film maker, well aware that movies can be manipulative in ways that may compromise the narrative’s integrity and that of the viewer.   A Director can direct us, as well as the movie, using his or her skills to insist that we must see this story this way and no other,  using music to tell you what to feel, camera movement and focus to tell you want to see,  and the editing of scenes to tell us what to think, etc.    Post Modernists often want to let the story do it’s own work, and leave us free to make our own interpretations and connections.     The most outstanding example of this style I have seen in recent years is the Romanian film 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days written and directed by Cristian Mungliu (2007 Cannes Palme d’Or).     It seems that the more serious the political and ethical implications of a film the more such directors try not to beat us over the head with the message.   Hollywood, this aint.     In Code Unknown the scenes start and end abruptly, with little to help us locate them. The only music is part of the reality.  The camera is usually fixed, or simply tracks to follow the characters, often in long takes, without panning or tilting to drag our gaze.   

In this film Haneke tells us about lives that briefly touch each other, sometimes in misunderstood or unrecognised ways.    The only common thread is that they all, in one way or another, have lost or do not know the Codes.   These codes may be actual, social, personal or ethical, but each gives, or denies access.     A Romanian economic refugee, a war photographer, an actress, a farmer and his son, each is lost in different ways, locked out or locked in.    The exception is  Amadou, a young Malian sign-language teacher.  The children he teaches bookend the film, communicating something, but do we know what?  Do we know their code?   Amadou knows these communicative codes, and moral ones too, but he is in danger of being mis-read by those with power.  His colour speaks against him.

This style of film making can seem alienating, but that is part of the purpose, especially when alienation is also the subject matter.     As Duncan points out in his review this alienation even goes so far as to make the Binoche character unappealing!

The next French film was the famous Au revoir, les enfants,  Louis Malle’s 1987 autobiographical account of his childhood in Nazi Occupied France in a Carmelite School.  The priests who ran the school harboured a number of Jewish children, and one adult member of staff.    At first the film progresses like any other school memoir, as the boys bond and fight and learn how to trust or betray.    But when the Gestapo come looking for Jews the relationships come into sharp focus and the film changes gear.   Shot in black and white, and avoiding melodrama and sentimentality this film may not shock as much as The Boy in the Striped Pajamas,  but it rings true, and the truth of Nazi persecution and French collaboration needs to be told.   The German cinema has given us Downfall and The Lives of Others, films that portray those who surrounded and supported Hitler in his last days of the second World War, and the East German police state’s obsessive surveillance during the Cold War.   Pan’s Labyrinth tackled the Spanish Civil War.    The Petainist capitulation to and collaboration with the Nazi’s persecution of Jews has not, however, as far as I know, been addressed in French cinema, apart from Au Revoir. and Sarah’s Key (2010) co-written by Gilles Paquet-Bremmer and adapted from the novel by Tatiana de Rosday.    Of course you may know otherwise.

Lastly we watched the Bluray version of the latest (and last?) version of Blade Runner.    Way back in 1982 I wrote a review of this film for an SF fanzine, and stirred up considerable ire by lavishly praising it.     It has now become the Citizen Kane of sf movies in its influence and regard,  but at the time cinema critics were very negative, I think because in it Ridley Scott invented a whole new vocabulary and style and  critics are always behind the game.    Sf fans also disliked it because it dared to make changes to Saint Philip K. Dick’s hallowed source novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.   I loved the look of it, the retro/futuristic design, the noctilucious paint brush, the music, acting, and the message.   For me the film still asked a simple question.  What is life?  And it gave a simple answer.  Life is precious.   The Bluray version is wonderfully  clean in image and soundscape, bringing out the true potential of the original.  If you have a DVD copy give it away and get this.   If you don’t have a copy, get this.  It is a milestone in cinema.

Duncan rates his movies numerically.  Being a qualitative sort of guy, I do not, but do go to his blog to see how he scored these, and why.