the Hollywood blues

[update: I added a missing link]

There’s a new crop of Iraq movies. Audiences are staying away in droves. Here’s one theory about why:

Despite spend several million dollars on advertising and marketing, ‘Lions for Lambs’ will flop–just like ‘Rendition’ & and ‘Valley of Elah.’

They will flop because the human psyche, especially the American variety, prefers real heroes–like the original hero of the Valley of Elah, a young shepherd named David who killed Goliath then cut off the giant’s head.

In the latest round of war movies the heroes are not the Soldiers and Marines who every day fight and defeat a vicious and barbaric enemy–the heroes are reporters, lawyers and activists.

And since every story requires a villain, the real enemy–Mohammedan Jihadists–are replaced by neo-cons, politicians, Soldiers and Marines.

This substitution of the traditional mono-myth away from a hero who faces physical danger and conquers an enemy is a result of cowardice of the modern story tellers.

What a crock.

The problem with the movies is, first of all, their relentless darkness and pessimism. To go to the movies today is to be assaulted with horror, danger, fear, chaos, and anxiety—and that’s just while you sit through the trailers.

Then there’s the fact that today’s movies offer no redemption. No one who isn’t on antidepressants wants to pay to see the bottomless suffering of human beings again and again. There are only so many gluttons for punishment in the American movie-going audience.

Finally, there’s the empty-headed prattle, devoid of anything approaching a new idea:

But Lions for Lambs is not merely a silly, shallow movie about the war: Its ambitions are broader and more scattered. Not content to stay focused on its central issue, it dabbles and babbles hither and yon, tossing off sophomore term-paper opinions on such topics as Americorps, consumerism, student loans, and corporate ownership of the media.

When Roth complains to her editor that the government hawks are engaged in “Vietnam-era thinking,” it rings truer as a self-critique; she is, after all, the one who keeps bringing up Vietnam and the 1960s. Indeed, if you tug on the emotional threads of the film, they all lead straight back to that crucible of generational consciousness: the fiftysomething journalists worry that they’ve been co-opted by the system that they started out fighting against; the liberal professor is disappointed that his students lack the passion and fervor of his own youth. It’s on this last point that Redford is at his most patronizing. When, repeatedly, the film criticizes today’s kids for being more interested in making money than in making a difference, one is tempted to reply: Yes, Mr. Redford, what a lucky thing it is for all of us that when you were young you eschewed fame and fortune.