Generational Masculinities: Fathers, Sons, Violence in "Welcome to Bulletville"

The first season of FX's breakout show with masculine viewers came to a close last night. Using the spare, lean prose stylings of Elmore Leonard and the contemporary questions and crisis of determining American masculinity in the 21st century; Justified demonstrates that is not simply actions but also feelings and levels of connectivity that impact the formation of masculine identities.

While some critics and viewers complained early on that this show was a throwback to older models of television where serialized narratives were not the focus, I would argue this finale demonstrates how the notion of single and long form arcs can be successfully married. Yet, it is not only the narrative structure but the superb acting in this series that sets it apart from many other television shows today.

In previous posts I have argued that the show is a Western for the 21st century, a point which Alan Sepinwall highlights in his recent write-up of the finale. However, what makes this Western narrative different I believe is that the hero is not easily definable, nor are the bad guys which is refreshing at a time when so many people believe that the world is a simple place. In the space of this narrative and its setting Harlan, Kentucky there are no easy answers. What the show excels at is showing that place impacts identity formation along with economic, religious, political and feelings toward diversity.

In the case of Raylan, who's father Arlo (brilliantly played by Raymond J. Barry) is a career criminal and a man who thinks only of himself and his economic fortunes there was no other option for Raylan than to be a deeply cynical and violent man. Arlo's deviousness and greed separate him from Raylan's sometimes tender and soulful side, an element of his character it would seems he developed from his dead mother. Despite all his hatred, fear, and mistrust of Arlo, Raylan shows that perhaps there is some level of feeling towards his father. Arlo is a veteran of the Vietnam war and a model of traditional masculinity with his penchant for drinking, violence, and silence while Raylan often tries to work through his problems by sharing his feelings but only in those moments where he feels safe.

Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins) like Raylan is a man who struggles to determine his place within the world. Yet, where Raylan finds solace in the law Boyd finds it in his devotion to Christianity that is until his real father, Bo Crowder (M.C. Gainey) also a career criminal tests his faith and patience. After Bo murders all of Boyd's followers in the finale and strings them from the trees we see Boyd standing amidst the carnage with rage and confusion on his face. As he buries these wayward souls whom he has grown to love doubt seeps into his heart as he asks God for a sign to explain his actions. In some ways Boyd's creepy conversion is reminiscent of Robert Mitchum's character in Night of the Hunter.

The lessons learned by these two men from their fathers comes to fruition in this episode as each struggle to deal with a legacy of violence, deceit, and greed. Raylan shoots Arlo in the arm when Arlo chooses Bo and his business over his son- thereby ending the possibility of the two mending their relationship, as Raylan tells Arlo don't call me that (when Arlo calls him son). Boyd blows up his father's meth shipment and then pulls a gun on him only to watch as the Miami cartel boss Gio's niece and nephew kill Bo in front of him. Both men face the reality of their father's sins head on, but Boyd is shaken by his father's death while Raylan is shown to be a man with "ice in his veins" as he battles the cartel while hunkered down in Bo's cabin.

In the end, when Raylan stands with his gun aimed at Boyd as he drives away and chooses to let him go we are left with the realization that throughout all the chaos of this season there is one relationship that matters and that is between Raylan and Boyd. Boyd calls Raylan his last friend and Raylan watches him leave. In this moment it seems that the show is arguing that the sins of the fathers do not have to be passed on to the sons.

"Gary Coopered" Western Masculinity as the Ideal and the Norm

Justified Episode 3 "Fixer"

In this episode Raylan's expertise with guns, women, and his devotion to his job are at the forefront of this fun and quirky episode. The episode opens with Raylan in the locker room of the Marshall's office putting on his tie when his boss Art Mullen comes in and informs him that his daddy has been arrested again. In previous episodes it has been revealed that Raylan's father is an example of a career criminal and that Raylan's relationship to his father is strained to say the least. Yet, when Mullen inquires about Raylan's father's criminal escapades he says, "Just out of curiosity is he a knucle head or is he a real bad guy," with a grin. Raylan continues to dress and tells his boss that he should know already because he has already pulled his sheet [a reference to his arrest history]. Mullen says, "His sheet tells me that the one thing that kept tripping him up in his criminal enterprises was a tendency to ill temper. Good thing he didn't pass that on." Isn't though, Raylan says with a wry smile. Mullen's comments illustrate his fears that while Raylan's father's career path has not impacted his son's career path, there is a fear that his "tendency to ill temper" may in fact be genetic rather than behavioral. The slow build to the introduction of Raylan's father serves to create a long form arc in the show but also allows the writers to craft a character onscreen whose masculinity is depicted in opposition to his father's therein reflecting the image of American masculinity as self-made and masochistic.

After the conversation with Mullen, Raylan is assigned to look after a local snitch named Arnold Pinter (David Eigenberg) by one of his younger colleagues. Despite the fact that Raylan has put in 16 years with the marshal's service he is unable to escape the rookie hazing traditions and calmly accepts the assignment.

He meets Pinter a short middle aged man with glasses and a sweet tooth in a local restaurant where the snitch, a fish out of water Brooklyn guy whose quick vocal delivery and cynicism immediately mark him as a "Yankee" amidst a sea of "toothless, banjo playing rednecks" as Pinter labels the locals. He tells Raylan about his past in New York where he worked as a "fixer" a person who helped organized criminals and career criminals solve their problems, but when the level of violence and lack of professionalism amongst the street element changed, Pinter explains he left for rural America and safety. Now he is running a book making and collecting operation and on the side uses his contacts to provide the marshall' s and local law enforcement with tips on criminals.

Pinter tells Raylan about a bad dude who is in town named "Tiny" an African American man who looks like a mountain and that has escaped from police custody on numerous occasions using his size and strength. The misnomer of "Tiny's" name is played for laughs in a later scene when he is arrested by the marshal's at his girlfriend's house where they find him handcuffed to a bed in his underwear with a gag in his mouth. In this moment it is indicated that "Tiny" is a man who likes to engage in kinky sex, but his sexual appetite is his downfall as he is taken into custody.

The image of Pinter as a law abiding citizen is challenged when it is shown how he collects the money owed to him. He uses a thug looking African American who wears tank top, gold chains and gator skin boots to collect and intimidate for him. Pinter sends Curtis to get his money from a local preppy man Travis Travers. Travers is shown to be a man of little means but with a taste for the finery things in life, which he inherited from his dead parents. However, when Curtis threatens to cut off his finger, he convinces Curtis to help him kidnap Pinter so that they can find Pinter's supposed "getaway fund."

The men kidnap Pinter from his home and then bind him to a chair with a black bag over his head an image that is reminiscent of the "war on terror" as is the usage of heavy metal music to disorient Pinter. Curtis's tactics along with Traver's checkered past that includes a child molestation charge show both of these men to be capable of all types of depravities, and in drawing their characters in such a negative light, it also challenges their image of masculinity. In effect, these are bad men because of their unwillingness to productively serve society, for they would rather cut corners, fingers and commit any level of crime to make their lives easier.

Another interesting aspect that the show first began to address headon is a discussion of the current economic downturn. In last week's episode it was a discussion of the soft housing market. In this episode it is the massive budget deficit. Mullen says to Raylan, "You mind telling me with the deficit what it is, why you are so hot to spend Uncle Sam's 20 grand [ a reference to Pinter's reward money]? When Raylan tries to get Pinter his reward money but cannot locate him he tells Mullen that "something is making my neck hair stand up." This simple physiological crime detection method serves him well and also shows him to be a man who is dogged and resilient. These qualities further connect his masculinity to the image of a Western hero. Raylan's cowboy appearance and devotion to justice are compared to other iterations of masculinity in the rest of the episode.

Travers tells Curtis about his run in with Raylan at Pinter's home noting that, "I never seen a Lexington cop dressed like the Marlboro Man. Ain't like it's Dallas." Curtis recognizes that Travers has met the marshall that Pinter told him about earlier. He says, "That Marlboro Man was the marshal that Gary Coopered [ referencing High Noon] some bad ass in Miami a couple of week's ago." Raylan's prowess with a gun and his penchant for Western style serve as his calling card and more importantly position him as an ideal figure of masculinity: iron jawed, resolute, aggressive, and efficient with a firearm as Curtis learns when Raylan shows up with the money at Traver's house.

The two men are framed in a long shot so that the camera is positioned behind Curtis's hand and Raylan is visible in the distance. The scene is designed to recall the images of show downs in classical Hollywood Western films. Curtis says to Raylan coolly, "You that cowboy they used to talk about. You got the hat, the boots, the whole nine." Raylan merely smiles as he recognizes that this man is no simple "gardener" the occupation that Curtis associates with himself. The two men then talk about Western movies and the traits and actions seen in the films. Curtis asks Raylan if he believes that men used to wait and get set and then draw down on one another in the streets like the movies show. Raylan then quickly draws his pistol showing off his skill with the weapon and then ejects the magazine before explaining the nature of his visit.

The episode ends with Raylan recognizing that Pinter has been kidnapped by Travers whom Raylan shoots and kills with two bullets to the chest through a wooden door. Still, Travers has managed to kill Curtis in cold blood and ruin Pinter's sense of happiness when he discovers that Traver's other partner in the plot was Pinter's girlfriend.

Again, the show uses women to make the men feel secure and as sexually duplicitous individuals that men must fear. In fact even when Raylan shows up at Ava's house and explains that he has found a reason to stay in Kentucky a place he has been trying to escape from his whole life, it is indicated that he has compromised his own masculinity. Whether Ava will act as the civilizing force in Raylan's life like so many other women in Western films is still to be determined.

Selling Capitalism with a Wink and a Smile

Recently I set my dvr to record the most recent episode of CBS's popular new reality show Undercover Boss in an attempt to see why this show is garnering such high ratings. What I discovered in looking at the show is how it relies on two themes in an attempt to sell the image of America's corporate CEO's as "real" people to viewers. By crafting an image of these individuals each week that celebrates the notion of the "American Dream" as still possible even in these drastic economic times, and showing them to be more humane and capable of "noblisse oblige" the show in effect makes these CEO's seem as if they are the victim of a crime that they in turn had no knowledge or impact on.

The rhetoric of the voiceover narration plays up the victim angle while also trying to tap into the current rage over the greed and excesses of corporate America. "The economy is going through tough times. Many hardworking Americans blame wealthy CEO's who are out of touch with what's going on in their companies for the current ill state of the economy." The narration continues stating that these "extreme times call for extreme measures." The extreme measures which the narrator discusses is the going undercover of corporate CEO's in order to see how their employees and businesses are responding to the crisis. What first seems like a noble calling is then shown to be nothing more than a gimmick that is used to sell the idea that corporate CEO's bare no guilt for the exploitation of the capital system and that if someone is willing to work really hard in America than anything is possible. Still, it is vital to the show to depict the CEO's as flawed individuals who in fact are more damaged by their access to power and wealth than the average worker.

When these bosses go undercover as in this past Sunday night's episode we see the bosses take on a role that allows them to see their business from the bottom rung of the ladder. This week's episode focused on the story of the CEO of the Herschend Family Entertainment company that is the largest family owned theme park company in America. In the episode the CEO disguises himself as a recently laid off auto worker who is bouncing around the country trying to find steady work. Along the way, we are treated to a visual tour of the company's signature parks: Stone Mountain in Georgia and Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri that not only shows the worker's struggles but also serves to advertise the parks. While working at Silver Dollar City the CEO meets a young man named Albert who is poor and is shown to possess a keen sense of architecture. The CEO says "I see a lot of Albert in myself. I grew up poor and just got a few lucky breaks." Later on the CEO uses the information he gleans from this experience and his position to help some of his employees.

Still, what one sees in examining this show is that it is intent on selling ideology to American viewers. As Zizek notes throughout his work on ideology and capitalism the danger of ideology for America is that the work force is sold an idea that it is possible for them to become wealthy in the system even though true wealth is not possible because workers are consistently exploited. The idea of exploitation or the reality of trying to survive on smaller wages are not addressed in the show because in the end it is designed to reify American's faith in capitalism and the "American Dream" at the expense of depicting an image of American struggle that is more transparent. A show like this of course would not work if the greedy and manipulative side of American capitalism were put on display, or if it showed the day to day horrors average American workers face as they try to survive on a diminished income as corporate America continues to get even more wealthy.

Triangles of Masculinity

Justified Episode Two Riverbrook

While the second episode of FX's new cop show reverted back to tried and true cop storylines, there were still some interesting moments where we can see how the show is attempting to deal with the idea of American masculinity in the 21st century. As I previously stated, I see this show as an homage to Westerns and Western style masculinity with square jawed heroes who fight for truth, justice, and the American way, but in this second episode the idea of an all empowering type of masculinity and force of order is challenged.

The episode begins with Raylan at a prison where he has been assigned to pick up and escort one of his friend Boyd's followers, Mr. Crow who is shown to be an example of the racist, backwards style of thinking that permeates white men who have seen their jobs and opportunities disappear as a result of neoliberal economic practices. Crow tells Raylan as he is driving the car that he had once worked at Disney world in Orlando but he hated it because "Disney has a lot of homosexuals and negroes working there so I had to leave." Crow's statement against the theme park and the idea of an all inclusive version of the American Dream illustrates how lower class and working class white men in particular have been led to believe that their America is being stolen from them. Still, Crow's status as a career criminal and racist are shown to be dangerous for himself and the nation when Raylan tires of hearing his racist invectives and hits him in the nose, breaking it again after he had broken it during the first arrest.

The relationship between Raylan and Boyd is briefly explored in the opening when Raylan checks on Boyd in the prison hospital. The two old friends joke about the situation and Boyd questions whether perhaps Raylan missed killing him on purpose because of the length of their friendship and their shared experiences of the horror of the coal mines. Raylan sarcastically explains that even the best of shots can miss sometimes as he looks at his old friend who is in a great deal of pain because he has refused to use the painkillers. Boyd wants to be in full control of his faculties as they discuss the situation and then in a strange, and revelatory moment Boyd tells Raylan that "God was acting through you, through your gun, to get my attention." The indication is that Boyd has experienced some sort of religious conversion while waiting to speak with Raylan. However, the true nature of Boyd's religiosity must be questioned because in the previous episode he had used religion to justify his use of violence and intimidation to challenge the system. This relationship is one that is complex and I hope will be continually explored throughout forthcoming episodes. The chemistry between Olyphant and Walter Goggins is exceptional and they are both convincing in the relationship of these two friends.

After Raylan delivers Crow to prison he is asked by his boss Chief Mullen to check on a breakout from a high class Kentucky society party where two inmates Cooper and Price have escaped. The prisoners are part of a bluegrass band called the "Big House Boys" comprised of convicts who play music dressed in Depression era prison uniforms with black and white stripes. While these men are not being forced to work on road construction and houses for wealthy patrons like the prison system in the 1930s in the South was often guilty of, they are still shown to be exploitable labor, a point that Price emphasizes when he tells one of the guards, "Hell, these horses live better than most people."

Raylan stops at a convenience store to pick up some snacks on the way to investigate the break out when he comes across Cooper and Price who have taken over a store. Cooper gets the drop on Raylan and takes his guns, badge, car keys, and hat. Cooper then opens fire on Price and he runs away leaving Raylan on the floor with Cooper standing over him with a shotgun. The old convict asks him, "what are you state police?" Raylan calmly states his name and that he is a US Marshall. Cooper slyly grins and asks "Like in Gunsmoke?" Raylan curtly replies "More like in the Fugitive." This exchange of dialogue and the scene are telling because it taps into previous iterations of Western style lawmen on American television but it also reveals that Cooper's vision of American justice is tinged with the nostalgia and memories of watching the lawmen of American television. Cooper leaves Raylan standing in the store in the dark after he has taken all his possessions. Here Raylan is shown to be a man like any other, rather than the typical bad-ass lawmen that have populated so many American action films and cop shows.

Raylan's abilities as a lawman and his masculinity are called into question by Mullen when he lists off all the things Cooper took from his officer. Mullen stands in front of a movie poster for the film Tombstone when he asks, "He didn't rape you did he?" The indication is that Raylan's mishap is somehow akin to his foul-ups as a cop and as a man, a point which is returned to in the end of the episode.

Cooper has broken out of prison to find some money that he had stashed away and in the process reconnects with his ex-wife Shirley, an exotic dancer who has fallen in love with a man who is more concerned with money and sex toys. Shirley tells Cooper that her boyfriend "Dupree has ambitions and plans." Cooper dryly asks "For what a chain of dildo stores?" She then tries to defend Dupree and says, "Not just dildo's." However the fact that Shirley uses dildos and her boyfriend hopes to make a fortune selling sex toys illustrates another moment where traditional notions of masculinity have been replaced by elements of consumerism combined with aggression. When Dupree shoots Cooper after they can't find the money he uses the gun to reclaim the authority in his relationship with Shirley, a relationship that he believes is tenuous as she has begun to reconnect and enjoy her ex-husbands company.

Dupree and Shirley break into another Mcmansion in the housing development where they believe they will find the money only to discover that the occupants had found the money and spent it on cars, boats, high end televisions, fake breasts for the wife, and expensive clothes. The husband who is slim in build with a square shaped head is depicted as less than masculine and it is his inability to perform masculine acts such as fixing things around the house, which allows them to find the money. He compensates for his lack by purchasing things, and still it is shown that no matter how much he buys he is still less than manly for his wife. The husband's gender is a performance just like Raylan's performance of an old time lawman with the hat. In fact, he explains that the significance of the hat is because "I tried it on one time and it fit." The hat which is a marker of the Western hero is shown to be an affectation similar to the husband's effort to seem more manly with his purchasing power.

In the end, Dupree is killed because of his greed an arrogance and Raylan escorts Cooper back to the state prison after he is captured. Still, the place of masculinity as a driving force of authority is shown in this episode to be less than stable, and perhaps merely a performance that many men enact in an attempt to compensate for something else. Cooper's stealing of the money and breaking out of prison has more to do with his need to impress his ex-wife and perhaps Raylan's usage of Western style clothing has more to do with his desire to separate himself from his past. I will stay tuned to find out because after all I enjoy a good Western and a cop show.

Western Masculinity 21st Century Style

"Fire in the Hole" Justified Episode One

For those of us who grew up watching re-runs of 1950s Western television series like The Lone Ranger, Gunsmoke, The Rifleman and numerous others along with Western classics like Stagecoach (Ford, 1939), The Ox-Bow Incident (William Wellman, 1943) and The Searchers (Ford, 1956) the Western as a genre and its themes have been a key component of our mediated lives. Once a genre that dominated both the large and small screens numerous directors, writers, producers, and actors have tried to revive the public's flagging interest in the genre. Kevin Costner's 2002 film Open Range managed to capture the heart, spirit, grandeur, and pathos of the Western while the 2007 unseen masterpiece The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford explored the darker elements of the myth of the West, our outlaw heroes and the harsh type of constitution that was required to survive amidst the brutality of the West and its landscapes. Still, in each of these cases, the Western as a genre seemed to be as dead as the idea of Manifest Destiny and the frontier as the dominant form of American narrative.

However, with the debut on FX (a network known for producing television series that are more risque in content and language and male centered) of the new series Justified those of who love the idea of Westerns and all its trappings can celebrate. Timothy Olyphant who was superb as the stoic and sullen Sheriff Bullock in HBO's Deadwood here plays Raylan Givins a 21st century model of American lawman who carries his sidearm in a hip holster like the cowboys of old, wears a Stetson hat, boots, and suit coat, tie and whose, tanned, grizzled visage and piercing eyes represent an image of American masculinity that is hardened, all business, and yes, quite violent. Yet, like Marshall Dillon in Gunsmoke the character of Raylen who was created by legendary crime and Western novelist Elmore Leonard is a man of extreme convictions who prefers a type of justice that in the 21st century is not acceptable. Raylen's idea of justice is displayed in the first few moments of the show when he shows up at a luxury hotel in Miami and tells an unidentified man that he gave him 24 hours to leave the city or he faces Raylen's skill with a gun. A skill which is displayed shortly thereafter when he shoots the man right in the chest killing him instantly. He then tries to account for his actions with his superiors by telling them that "he pulled first." Even if the other man had pulled first it is clear that Raylen's skill with a firearm and his steely demeanor are no match for any criminal because this is a lawman who shoots first and asks questions later.

Raylen's credo of "you make me pull, I'll put down" which he shares with his old friend and co-worker in the Harlan county coal mines Boyd Crowder (Walter Goggins) show him to be a man who respects and understands that firearms are weapons of death not objects of persuasion. In the scene where one of Boyd's Neo-Nazi flunkies tries to get the drop on Raylen with a an assault model shotgun, Raylen's hard edged masculine persona is demonstrated as he stands there waiting for the man to pull the trigger, but as the flunky stumbles and cannot pull the trigger, it gives Raylen the opportunity to teach the man a lesson as he calmly takes the gun away from the man, ejects the shells and then tosses it back into his car. Raylen is a cool customer even in the face of trouble or a shotgun. His brand of masculinity is a throw back to the time when the ideal of the "self-made man" was sold as the ideal form of American masculinity. Even more interesting about this character is his Southern roots, a quality which is reminiscent of the wave of Southern lawmen films of the 1970s like Walking Tall that celebrated an image of masculinity as violent, celebratory of vigilante justice and respectful of women as long as they were well mannered and safely in the kitchen.

While both of the male leads in this first episode are exceptional in playing the struggle for supremacy in their hometown as a battle of male egos, what lies underneath this facade is the reality that both of these men are seeking the acceptance, love, and company of a woman. In Boyd's case it is his brother's wife Ava (Joelle Carter) who in a moment of clarity and sweet justice shot her husband with a deer rifle as he sat down to his favorite meal. Ava explains to Raylen that she had been verbally and physically abused to the point that she saw no other way out. For Raylen, his problems lie with his ex-wife Winona Hawkins (Natalie Zea) who has returned to her home state of Kentucky and started her life over as a court reporter.

Setting the series in Kentucky a place Raylen tried to escape from only to be sent there in an effort to stop his vigilante methods is brilliant, especially in these economically challenging times because Kentucky like Michigan, Pennsylvania and West Virginia is a state that faces extreme instances of economic and social disparities that I hope future episodes will explore. For tonight's episode it serves to examine the trending interest in "white power" movements all while critiquing them as ideological vacuums that are used to justify criminal activities and racism.

One of the best scenes of the episode and one that illustrates the difference between Raylen and Boyd's masculinities occurs when Raylen goes to Ava's house and finds Boyd sitting at her table eating biscuits and fried chicken. Boyd explains to Raylen that he has tried to give him a chance to leave but now it is time that they settle their differences. Raylen is shown to genuinely care for Ava while Boyd orders her around like a slave telling her to go watch television or brink them some Jim Beam. However, Ava now understands what it is like to be free of a man and she points a shotgun at Boyd as he sits in the same place where his brother had when she killed him. Ava is no longer afraid of Boyd and his "creepy" behavior and in a split second, he reaches for his .45 pistol on the table and Raylen draws his weapon and fires hitting him in the chest without killing him. He then stands over him, with a look of confusion and sadness as he explains that they had worked together in the mines when they were 19. While Raylen was able to escape the poverty and backwards thinking, Boyd, his brother, and many of the other residents of Harlan were forced to watch as their jobs, way of life, and town were destroyed by the greed of the mine owners. What is displayed in the scenes between these two men is a bifurcation of American masculinity as either calculating, efficient, violent, and somewhat progressive or that of "redneck" regressive, and criminal masculinity. In either case, the show seems to be arguing that America is a nation where masculinity is best understood in connection to one's sense of self-worth through labor and the ability to act boldly, and violently.

In the end of the episode Raylen breaks into his ex-wife Winona's home and sits in the dark drinking when she comes down and finds him. He is confused by his actions and wonders if he is merely a murder with a badge. He then tells her, "I guess I never thought of myself as an angry man" to which she replies "You do a good job of hiding it, and I suppose most folks don't see it, but honestly? You are the angriest man I've ever known." Her line illustrates an image of Raylen and in a sense connects him back to the image of American masculinity created in Western television and films. He requires the counsel and love of a woman to make him whole and more importantly to keep him civilized. Still, it is not totally clear where this show may be headed but I am intrigued and I hope to stay saddled up with this new show.

In Truth there Are Lies and in Lies there Are Truth

There has been no subject more distorted or fought over than the United States case for war in Iraq. In his brilliant critical analysis of the war and visual culture in America Nicholas Mirzoeff argues that, "Babylon [Iraq] is a metaphor for complexity, exile, decadence that has resonated throughout Western modernity." The kingdom of Babylon and its legends are for Mirzoeff the key to understanding how the US was able to mobilize its allies and citizenry to wage a war that in effect was manufactured to support the needs of a neoliberal Imperial policy that was formed by the Bush administration. Philosopher Slavoj Zizek echoes this point noting that "the Bush doctrine of preventive strikes" primary purpose was to create an image "of American military might" that could not be challenged because the enemy was believed to be an irrational one steeped in Muslim fundamentalist beliefs. Zizek further expresses his cynicism arguing that "Americans were not simply unsure about whether Saddam had weapons of mass destruction but that they positively knew he did not have them."

In the new film Green Zone director Paul Greengrass explores this idea by showing an image of the combat in Iraq directly after the "shock and awe" period that is messy, ill equipped, misinformed and ultimately willing to slough through the muck and the mire of the Bush administration's lies. Greengrass uses his penchant for hand-held camera work, rapid cutting and grainy film stock to produce an image of the conflict that serves to capture the intensity of the setting as well as the drama of the characters who represent the various ideological positions possible for Americans. Yet, as Greengrass shows with subtle touches, no matter how hard or to what degree America tried to frame Iraq's future it was always ill equipped.

Matt Damon plays a WMD hunter named Miller who possesses a combination of reserve and explosive convictions which are captured in the craggy lines and intense blue eyes of Damon's face. Here Damon is the ideal figure of America and Greengrass uses Miller as the viewers point of view in the film thus laying bare the complete and total disregard for "truth" in an attempt to forge a puppet democracy in the Middle East. Miller's dedication to truth and to "saving lives" are shown to be a hinderance to a Pentagon official Poundstone played with a combination of cool calculation and slickness by Greg Kinnear. The military official represents an image of the behind the scenes "warrior" who is too busy trying to start wars than to actually analyze and understand their consequences.

Greengrass also shows the disconnect between professional spies in the intelligence services like Martin Brown (Brendan Gleeson) whose knowledge and expertise of the region are belittled by Poundstone who is more interested in making Iraq into the next economic playground of the rich and powerful. Brown's character is representative of numerous professional intelligence officers who had second guessed the intelligence that led to war in Iraq. Brown finds an ally in Miller who he enlists to help stabilize the country by capturing an Iraqi general but as Brown and Miller soon discover the general is a man who must be removed by Poundstone and the administration because he knows the truth about Iraq and America's reasons for the war.

Greengrass also criticizes the media and its willingness to go along and sell the war as if it were a video game or new television show that could capture the attention of the nation and enable consumerism. The reporter Dayne (Amy Ryan) is shown to be a woman of ambition rather than journalistic integrity as she has been used to sell the public a fabricated "truth" about Iraq and its weapons capability. However, as her own career is jeopardized by the "lies" and half-truths she too becomes a concerned citizen.

Greengrass's documentary technique adds in the emotional and intellectual investment in this film that along with the recent Hurt Locker synthesize how the US misled its people, allies and the world in order to wage a war that was not necessary nor well executed. However, whereas Hurt Locker tries to remain apolitical in its depiction of the conflict, Greengrass's film is clearly a political critique of American foreign policy and the idea that America is a nation based on "truth and justice." In the torture and prison scenes American capitalism and sport are juxtaposed with images of brutality, hooded men and vicious dogs trying to bite men in cages. He also includes news footage of Bush's speech on the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln where he declared "major combat operations in Iraq are completed" as white people in business casual attire cheer with Budweiser's in their hands.

What makes this film a brave piece of filmmaking similar to United 93 is that Greengrass asks us to think about what it is that we haven't been told and why. He shows the war from the opening frames of the film from the Iraqi point of view in an effort to humanize them and their experiences as well as to offer reasons for their unwillingness to accept America as a force of liberation. For in the end, the "truth" that the film attempts to capture is one of degrees and the reality that he offers is one of perception. It is perception that must be considered along with context if we are to ever understand this war and its effects. Greengrass provides a film that offers potential answers to bigger questions that we have not even posed yet.

A New Year and A New Start for the Visual Arts

While 2007 at first seemed as if it was going to be a really terrible year for serious cinema and television, by year's end film and television producers redeemed themselves. Films such as No Country for Old Men, I'm Not There, Michael Clayton, Asassination of Jesse James, In the Valley of Elah and Lions for Lambs proved that the political awareness once displayed in the Hollywood films of the 1970s may be creeping back into American films. Unfortunately, all these really amazing and challenging films have gone unnoticed by most Americans. Instead of seeing films that might have something to say in this the age of "dis-information" audiences flocked to tentpole movies like Spiderman 3, Pirates 3, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and American Gangster. I am not opposed to popular culture nor popular films, but what I am opposed to is the constant theme of American's to lose themselves in fantasy as our troops continue to die and get injured. Or worse yet, the constant presence of global capitalism dictating people's emotions, their politics, and their active engagement with indifference.
One film that encapsulates these thoughts was the monster hit 300 which made well over 200 million dollars in 2007. Here is a movie that is designed to showcase the advances of digital filmmaking technology but in its need to show off its cool abilities, the movies loses its cinematic property: that is it becomes flat and uninteresting as a piece of entertainment. However, what does make the film interesting as Slavoj Zizek notes, is the way in which the film sells the ideas of militarism and hypermasculinity as natural and ideal for the survival of nations. As the Spartans fight in the film it becomes apparent that this is a movie which wears the philosophies and values of American neo-conservatives. What is most ironic about the film is that as it depicts fascism as "chic" it is also a film that embodies the pleasure of male-male desire: what with all the naked male chests, long hair, and intense scenes of male-male relationships. Leonidas may claim to be an overly virile example of the heterosexual Spartan man but the ways that he is shown onscreen complicate this notion.
In addition to thinking about these few films I have managed to read quite a few really interesting and enlightening books on film. Stephen Teo has published a monograph on the Hong Kong director Johnnie To (Breaking News, PTU, Election Parts I&II, Exiled) who is easily one of the best and most accomplished filmmakers working today. Teo's book is the first of its kind, a sustained study of auterism and its connection to generic expectations. He examines how To utilizes the generic patterns of Hong Kong action films to critique and deconstruct the identity of a global citizenry.
Equally interesting is Peter DeCherney's book Hollywood and the Cultural Elite. In this historical/ theoretical study Decherney illustrates how the business interests of Hollywood were an active participant in the formulation of Hollywood and especially American films as works of art and objects worthy of study. Like Dana Polan, Janet Staiger and other film scholars, DeCherney is problemitizing the discipline in order to show that like it or not the study of film is connected to economics and the needs of the studio system. Another book which explores the effects of the studio system and its relationship to cinema is a book by Joe McElhaney: The Death of Classical Cinema: Hitchcock, Lang, Minnelli. In this book he looks at how the art cinema movement of the 1950s and 1960s influenced and eventually altered the ways in which these 3 directors approached their craft. These changes brought to mainstream American filmmaking, McElhaney argues effected the careers of New Hollywood Directors such as De Palma, Scorsese, and Coppola. Many of these narrative and cinematic tropes he identifies are still present with us today. Perhaps this is why 2007 turned out to be a better year for American films than I first believed.