(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on October 4, 2025)
I’m sure you’ve heard that the Eye of Sauron is now fixated on the Pacific Northwest:
Images of the mayhem have been pouring in all week:
Sorry…I should have prefaced with a trigger warning for sensitive viewers. My bad.
As a Seattle resident, I’m concerned my city could be next; particularly considering the anarchy permeating the mean streets of the Wallingford neighborhood where I live:
Then again, as evidenced in that hard-hitting report, local law enforcement has the situation in hand. Hopefully, cooler heads in the Trump administration will prevail. Oh, dear:
OK. Sure-that’s tough talk and all, but they are going to at least need a pretext before sending the troops to Seattle, yes? Oh, crap:
There’s such a fine line between the right to bear arms and the right to name bears.
On a more serious note, it is concerning that the Trump administration has been playing so fast and loose with the definition of “domestic terrorism”. In our current political climate, one person’s “activist” is another person’s “terrorist”, and vice-versa. For example, I’m old enough to remember earlier this year, when Attorney General Pam Bondi described Tesla vandalism as “nothing short of domestic terrorism” and vowed to “impose severe consequences on those involved in these attacks, including those operating behind the scenes to coordinate and fund these crimes”. That’s like, her opinion, man…but in my view, vandalizing a Tesla is…vandalism; however, if you purposely plow said Tesla into a crowd, that’s terrorism.
For reasons that hopefully become clear, I’m re-posting my review of the 2011 documentary, If a Tree Falls:
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 23, 2011)
Because you see, that was when I had my personal brush with “eco-terrorism”. I came to work one day, and espied a couple of Redmond’s finest standing outside the store, talking to the manager. Then I noticed interesting new artwork adorning the windows, writ large in dried ketchup and barbecue sauce: MEAT IS MURDER! It was signed “E.L.F.”. Apparently, several other restaurants down the street had also been hit (McDonald’s had had their locks glued shut).
So, as I was scrubbing to remove the graffiti, I wondered “Who is this ‘ELF’ …a disgruntled Keebler employee?” I had never heard of the Earth Liberation Front. I remember the manager saying “How much you want to bet this guy fled the scene in leather Nikes?” “Yeah,” I snickered, whilst contemplating the dried globs of Heinz 57 on my sponge “these suburban anarchists aren’t exactly the Baader-Meinhof Gang, are they?” (I can’t say that I felt “terrorized”).
Flash forward to 2001. I turned on the local news one night, and saw the UW Center for Urban Horticulture engulfed in flames ($7 million in damage). The arson was attributed to the E.L.F. “Hmm,” I pondered, “maybe they are sort of like the Baader-Meinhof Gang, ”
Or are they? According to the FBI, “Eco-terrorism” is defined as:
The use (or threatened use) of violence of a criminal nature against people or property by an environmentally oriented, sub-national group for environmental-political reasons, or aimed at an audience beyond the target, often of a symbolic nature.
That certainly covers a lot of ground. One could argue that Johnny Appleseed was an Eco-terrorist. Sure, he’s a legendary conservationist and agrarian icon. However, he was against grafting, which resulted in a fruit more suitable for hard cider than for eating. Hence, the “environmentally-oriented” Appleseed was “responsible” for introducing alcohol to the frontier. And it’s inarguable that much “violence of a criminal nature against people or property” is committed under the influence. OK, that’s a stretch .
Then again, there are a number of “environmentally-oriented” types doing a “a stretch” in the federal pen right now for non-lethal actions that the government considers terrorism, and that others consider heroic. This is not a black and white issue; a point not lost on the directors of If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front.
So what type of circumstance can change a nature lover into a freedom fighter? Anyone can make a statement by holding up a sign or throwing on a “Save the Rainforest” t-shirt, but what motivates someone who decides to take it to the next level-throwing on a Ninja outfit and torching a lumber mill in the middle of the night? And what would they hope to achieve? Wouldn’t that just encourage corporations to cut down even more trees to replace lost inventory?
In order to convey a sense of the humanity behind the mug shots, co-directors Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman focus primarily on Earth Liberation Front member Daniel McGowan, who at the time of filming was facing a possible life sentence for his direct involvement in several high-profile “actions” (including the arson of an Oregon lumber mill) that resulted in millions of dollars in property damage. Holed up in his sister’s NYC apartment (and sporting a house arrest anklet for the first third of the film), McGowan candidly opens up about his life and what led him to change his own M.O. for making a statement from “environmental activism” to “domestic terrorism”.
The filmmakers parallel the timeline and details of McGowan’s personal journey with a study about the development of the E.L.F., adding present day interviews with his cohorts and archival footage of some of the group’s early “actions” (which were more in the realm of civil disobedience and passive resistance-like sitting in the path of bulldozers and camping out in old-growth trees marked for cutting). McGowan initially became involved with the environmental movement through “mainstream” activities, like “writing hundreds of letters” of protest and participating in peaceful demonstrations.
McGowan became frustrated with what he perceived to be the ineffectiveness of such actions. He sums it up with a rhetorical question: “When you’re screaming at the top of your lungs, and nobody hears you, what are you supposed to do?”
The tipping point for McGowan came in 1999, when he participated in the WTO protests in Seattle. There, through some of the more radicalized E.L.F. members, he became embedded with the relatively small band of black-clad “anarchists” who were disproportionately responsible for most of the property damage that occurred during the demonstrations (the majority of participants made a point after the fact to disassociate themselves from the anarchists).
From there, it was a relatively small jump to the more extreme acts that would lead to his eventual arrest and prosecution (he agreed to a “non-cooperation” plea deal that saved him from life in prison but still saddled him with 7 years and a “terrorism enhancement”).
The filmmakers give equal screen time to some of the law enforcement officials and prosecutors who made the case against McGowan and his associates. Although no one was ever injured or killed as a result of E.L.F. activity (astounding considering that there were approximately 1,200 “actions” perpetrated by the group during their heyday), there are still victims; and some of them appear on camera as well to offer their perspective.
Were these people “terrorists”? You almost have to get back to defining “what is a terrorist?” Or in this case, who are the real terrorists? One interviewee offers this: “95% of the native American forests have been cut down. Trying to save the remaining 5% is ‘radical’?” That’s a valid question. McGowan himself seems to be arguing (in so many words) that in a post 9-11 world, people have a tendency to make a “rush to judgment” without considering the alternate point of view (he suggests that the word “terrorist” has supplanted “Communist” as the demagogue’s dog whistle of choice).
I wonder if the filmmakers intend McGowan’s story to be a litmus test for the viewer (how far out on the limb would you be willing to go for your personal convictions?) If so, that’s a tough one. Part of me identifies with Daniel McGowan the environmentally-conscious idealist; but I don’t think I can quite get behind Daniel McGowan the criminal arsonist. For now, I’m just content to keep recycling and doing my part to think “glocal”. And in case you’re wondering…I haven’t stepped foot inside a Honeybaked Ham store since I quit working there 14 years ago. Those murderous bastards.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 27, 2025)
Slade in Flame (BFI; Region ‘B’ only)
Akin to Mott the Hoople, it may be arguable among music geeks as to whether Slade was truly “glam” (they were a bit on the “blokey” side- as the Brits would say), but they are nonetheless considered so in some circles, and this 1974 film was released during the heyday of space boots and glitter, so there you go.
The directorial debut for Richard Loncraine (Brimstone and Treacle, The Missionary, Richard III) the film is a gritty, semi-biographical “behind the music” drama (don’t expect A Hard Day’s Night) about a working-class band called Flame (suspiciously resembling the four members of Slade, wink-wink) who get chewed up and spit out of the star-making machine (this just in: managers and A & R people are back-stabbing weasels).
While not a genre masterpiece, the film is bolstered by a great soundtrack (all Slade originals) and the casting of Tom Conti (who plays a soulless record exec with great aplomb). An amusing scene where lead singer Noddy Holder’s character gets locked into a stage coffin presages a similar hardware malfunction depicted in This Is Spinal Tap. Another memorable scene has the band risking life and limb to access the broadcast booth for an on-air interview at an offshore pirate radio station (the story is set in the late 1960s).
BFI’s 2025 remastered Blu-ray edition is a vast improvement over Shout! Factory’s 2004 DVD, in both image and sound quality. Extras include a newly recorded audio commentary with the director and film critic Mark Kermode, a new 9-minute interview with Tom Conti, a 54-minute 2002 interview with Noddy Holder, and more. Note: Requires an all-region player.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 27, 2025)
Breaking Glass (Fun City Editions)
Released on the cusp of the Thatcher era, writer-director Brian Gibson’s 1980 film is a No Wave take on A Star is Born, with a nod to the classic UK kitchen sink dramas of the 1960s. 26 year-old singer-songwriter Hazel O’Connor delivers a naturalistic performance as a disenfranchised young gas station attendant who aspires to be a rock star…but strictly on her own terms. To wit, the lyrics she furiously scribbles into her notebook are not exactly “moon-June” love sonnets; take “Big Brother”, for instance:
They’ll tear out your heart, throw it knee-deep in a cart
Cause that’s what they do with the scum like me and you
And you feel as if you died, whilst you’re standing on the line
And you wonder all the time why can’t you cry?
But the people in control don’t care for you
They are just a robot with a job to do
And when your used, exhausted, they’ll be rid of you
As soon as look at you, go to the back of the queue!
Not destined to be a chart-climber, that one. Despite the ridicule and sexism she constantly weathers, she eventually gets the attention of a street-hustling manager (Phil Daniels) who sees her potential and helps her put a decent band together (including a young Jonathan Pryce on sax). However, when she lands a recording contract, the inevitable compromises begin once a more seasoned, smooth-talking (and weaselly) industry exec (Jon Finch) begins to wrest control of her career (let the eternal battle between Art and Commerce commence).
O’Connor does her own singing (she also co-wrote the songs with soundtrack producer Tony Visconti). I see the film as a companion piece to Lou Adler’s 1981 Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains and Gillian Armstrong’s 1982 rock musical Starstruck (I wrote about both films here).
Fun City’s 2025 edition is a bit light on extras, but boasts a long-overdue restoration, improved audio, and (most notably) reinstates the original UK cut (the previous Olive Films reissue was not restored, and featured the U.S. cut, which is 10 minutes shorter).
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 27, 2025)
This is Spinal Tap (The Criterion Collection)
“May I start by saying how thrilled we are to have you here. We are such fans of your music and all of your records. I’m not speaking of yours personally, but the whole genre of the rock and roll.”
– Lt. Hooksratten (played by Fred Williard), from This is Spinal Tap
Has it really been 41 years since one of the loudest English bands that never lived set off to “tap into America” on their imaginary comeback tour? (Checks calendar) Yes, that tracks. Director Rob Reiner co-wrote this 1984 mockumentary with Christopher Guest, Harry Shearer and Michael McKean, who play Spinal Tap founders Nigel Tufnel (lead guitar), Derek Smalls (bass) and David St. Hubbins (lead vocals and guitar), respectively (several actors portray the band’s revolving door of drummers, who tend to meet untimely ends such as spontaneous combustion, “a bizarre gardening accident”, and perhaps most famously, choking on “somebody else’s vomit”).
Reiner casts himself as “rockumentary” filmmaker Marty DiBergi (a goof on Martin Scorsese, who similarly interjected himself into The Last Waltz) who accompanies the hard rocking outfit on a tour of the states (“their first in six years”) to support the release of their new LP “Smell the Glove” (DiBergi has been a fan since first catching them at the “Electric Banana” in Greenwich Village in 1966).
By the time the film’s 84 minutes have expired, no one (and I mean, no one) involved in the business of rock ’n’ roll has been spared the knife-musicians, roadies, girlfriends, groupies, fans, band managers, rock journalists, concert promoters, record company execs, A & R reps, record store clerks…all are bagged and tagged.
Nearly every scene has become iconic in muso circles; ditto the plethora of quotable lines: “These go to eleven.” “I mean, it’s not your job to be as confused as Nigel.” “You can’t really dust for vomit.” “It’s such a fine line between stupid and clever.” “No…we’re NOT gonna fucking do ‘Stonehenge’!” “We’ve got armadillos in our trousers-it’s really quite frightening.”
The great supporting cast includes Tony Hendra (who steals all his scenes as the band’s prickly manager, clearly modeled after Led Zeppelin’s infamously fearsome handler Peter Grant), Bruno Kirby, Ed Begley, Jr., Fran Drescher, Parick Macnee, June Chadwick, Billy Crystal (“C’mon…mime is money!”), Howard Hesseman, Paul Shaffer, and Fred Williard.
Third time’s a charm for Criterion, who released previous editions on LaserDisc and DVD. The label does their usual voodoo with a sparkling new 4K transfer (supervised and approved by director Reiner) and 5.1 Surround DTS MasterAudio (“Big Bottom”, “Hell Hole”, and “Sex Farm” have never sounded so…robust).
Extras include an engaging conversation between Rob Reiner and Spinal Tap superfan Patton Oswalt, three audio commentaries, media appearances, trailers, and music videos. The 90 minutes of outtakes is a real treat for fans of the film; when you see the quality of what ended up on the cutting room floor, you marvel even more at the cast’s improvisational skills (Reiner had 100 hours of footage to pare down).
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 16, 2025)
Getting old sucks. The reasons for that are myriad; not least of which is watching the icons of your youth diminish and go into the West (forgive the Tolkien reference).
Yes, Robert Redford was 89 years old, which doesn’t make news of his passing a complete shocker, but this one hurts (hurts even more these days to lose the good people).
He was “a movie star” in a traditional Hollywood sense; gifted by the gods with matinee-idol looks, which he viewed as a curse of sorts. He demonstrated that he was more than just a pretty face with a lifetime of off-screen philanthropy and activism. Still, it could be a tricky juggling act. From The Hollywood Reporter:
Behind the California-kid surface was a darker and more complicated figure. The very definition of a Hollywood star, he nonetheless saw himself as an outsider and spent much of his time living away from the epicenters of the industry — including at the Utah skiing resort that he turned into the Sundance Institute and the Sundance Film Festival.
He bestrode two worlds, his biographer, Michael Feeney Callan, wrote in 2011: “His life [was] peripatetic. He engaged [in] careers on the East Coast and West. It may not be a coincidence that his arts laboratory — his ‘great experiment’ [Sundance] is not too many miles from Promontory Summit, where, in 1869, the golden spike was hammered that joined the East Coast and West on the transcontinental railroad.”
[…]
He became a passionate environmentalist and supporter of Native American and LGBTQ rights and remained that way throughout his life. In 2018, he published on the Sundance website a lament about the state of America titled, “A Brief Statement About Big Things.”
That’s why the tributes are not coming solely from members of the film industry. New Mexico’s Governor Michelle Lujan Grisham issued this statement earlier today:
I join all New Mexicans in mourning the loss of Robert Redford, whose deep connection to our state left an indelible mark on its cultural and environmental landscape.
Redford’s 1988 film “The Milagro Beanfield War,” filmed in Truchas, captured the heart of New Mexico’s rural Hispanic communities with authentic dignity. The story of ordinary people standing up to powerful interests accurately reflected our state’s values and history. As executive producer of AMC’s popular “Dark Winds” television series, Redford similarly captured New Mexico’s culture in an authentic manner. In 2010, Redford launched a workshop for training Hispanic and Native American filmmakers at Los Luceros in Espanola.
Redford was also a powerhouse advocate for New Mexico’s film tax credit program, helping to spread the word across the film industry about New Mexico’s spectacular landscapes, rich culture, and committed workforce as major assets to filmmakers. His advocacy helped transform New Mexico into a major filmmaking destination, bringing economic opportunities to communities statewide.
As a part-time Santa Fe resident and lifelong environmental champion, Redford understood that New Mexico’s natural beauty required protection. His conservation efforts aligned with our state’s environmental consciousness and commitment to preserving New Mexico’s majestic high desert landscapes.
Redford elevated New Mexican voices to the national stage, showing the world the depth and complexity of our communities. He used his influence to illuminate the authentic stories of the people he chose to call neighbors.
His legacy endures in every film that honors New Mexico’s stories, in his conservation work that protects our landscapes, and in the tradition of artists who understand that great art serves both beauty and truth.
Robert Redford will be remembered as an artist, activist, and friend to New Mexico.
Just another one of those busybody Hollywood Lefties.
As for his film legacy…the work speaks for itself. When I was 13, I became a lifelong Redford fan when (like many of my generation, I’d wager) I first became aware of him in a little “buddy movie” you may have heard of. As I wrote in my 2008 tribute to Paul Newman:
As I was getting ready to go work out at my health club early this morning, I was flipping through the cable channels, and came across “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. (I hadn’t heard the news yet). It’s one of those personal favorites that I always get sucked into, no matter what scene I happen upon.
In this case, I tuned in just as Butch, Sundance and Etta were disembarking at the train station in Bolivia. I love that scene (“Aw…he’ll feel a lot better after he’s robbed a couple of banks!”). So there I sat, giggling as if it wasn’t the 250th time I’d watched the film, for 15 minutes before I realized, “Oh yeah, I was just headed out the door.”
Redford doesn’t have a lot of lines there, yet he nearly steals the whole scene with a smile and a wave. Now that’s charisma. Not unlike Newman, Redford was one of those actors who made it all look so easy; you couldn’t detect the “method”, as it were. He “inhabited” his characters, and you never doubted that you were observing a real flesh-and-blood human being up on that screen.
Redford proved to be just as much of a natural working behind the camera; he picked up Best Director and Best Picture Oscars for his outstanding 1980 directing debut Ordinary People (also recommended: The Milagro Beanfield War, A River Runs Through It, and Quiz Show).
As for Redford’s acting roles, the two films you simply must see before you die are the aforementioned Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (directed by George Roy Hill) and Alan J. Pakula’s 1976 journalism thriller All the President’s Men. You also can’t go wrong with Stuart Rosenburg’s 1980 prison drama Brubaker, Barry Levinson’s 1984 baseball drama The Natural, and Sydney Pollack’s 1973 romantic drama The Way We Were. And for a sampling of Redford’s less-utilized comic chops…I recently saw Barefoot in the Park on TCM, Gene Saks’ 1967 adaptation of Neil Simon’s stage play; I hadn’t seen it in decades and had forgotten about the wonderful chemistry between Redford and Jane Fonda. It’s really a lot of fun.
And here are a few more of my Redford favorites. Rest easy, Sundance.
The Sting – George Roy Hill’s caper dramedy is pretty fluffy, but a lot of fun. Paul Newman and Robert Redford reunited with their Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid director in this 1973 star vehicle to play a pair of 1930s-era con men who set up the ultimate “sting” on a vicious mobster (Robert Shaw) who was responsible for the untimely demise of one their mutual pals.
The beauty of screenwriter David S. Ward’s clever construction is in how he conspiratorially draws the audience in to feel like are in on the elaborate joke…but then manages to prank us too…when we’re least expecting it! The film picked up Oscars for Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay (David S. Ward), Art Direction, Costume Design, Film Editing, and Scoring. Redford was nominated for Best Actor.
The Candidate -This 1972 gem from Michael Ritchie (Downhill Racer, Prime Cut, Smile) centers on an activist lawyer named Bill McKay (Robert Redford) wooed by a slick Democratic political consultant (Peter Boyle) into challenging a three-term Republican California Senator for his congressional seat.
The idealistic and progressive McKay is initially reticent, as he does not want to be perceived as trading in on his family name (his father is a former governor). Assured that he can set his own agenda, say whatever he wants, and is almost guaranteed a victory due to the lack of Democratic challengers, McKay accepts the offer to run.
But you know what they say…if it sounds too good to be true, there’s usually a catch. In this case, it’s McKay’s realization that in the rough and tumble world of politics, the true path to victory is inevitably littered with a discarded ideal or two (compromise, compromise, compromise).
The perceptive, wryly satirical screenplay earned an Oscar for Jeremy Larner (his experience as a speechwriter for Eugene J. McCarthy on the Senator’s 1968 campaign undoubtedly contributed to the film’s air of authenticity). Redford and Boyle are outstanding, and ably supported by a wonderful ensemble that includes Melvyn Douglas, Don Porter, Allen Garfield, and Karen Carlson.
Three Days of The Condor – Sydney Pollack’s 1975 “conspiracy a go-go” thriller, which was adapted by Lorenzo Semple, Jr. and David Rayfiel from James Grady’s novel “Six Days of the Condor”, puts a unique twist on the idea of a government-sanctioned assassination; here, you have members of the U.S. clandestine community burning up your tax dollars to scheme against other members of the U.S. clandestine community (there’s no honor among conspirators, apparently). Robert Redford, Faye Dunaway, Cliff Robertson and Max von Sydow head an excellent cast. The film conveys the same dark atmosphere of dread that infuses The Conversation and The Parallax View.
Downhill Racer – This underrated 1969 gem from director Michael Ritchie examines the tightly knit and highly competitive world of Olympic downhill skiing. Robert Redford is cast against type, and consequently delivers one of his more interesting performances as a talented but arrogant athlete who joins up with the U.S. Olympic ski team. Gene Hackman is outstanding as the coach who finds himself at loggerheads with Redford’s contrariety. Ritchie’s debut film has a verite feel that lends the story a realistic edge. James Salter adapted the screenplay from Oakley Hall’s novel The Downhill Racers.
The Hot Rock– Although it starts out as a by-the-numbers diamond heist caper, this 1972 Peter Yates film delivers a unique twist halfway through: the diamond needs to be stolen all over again (so it’s back to the drawing board). There’s even a little political intrigue in the mix. The film boasts a William Goldman screenplay (adapted from a Donald E. Westlake novel) and a knockout cast (George Segal, Robert Redford Zero Mostel, Ron Leibman, Paul Sand and Moses Gunn). Redford and Segal make a great team, and the film finds a nice balance between suspense and humor.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 13, 2025)
The 77th Primetime Emmy Awards will be held this Sunday night (broadcast live on CBS and Paramount + at 5 pm PST). Being, as I am, a lifetime member of the “television generation” who (to quote from Paddy Chayefsky’s Network) learned about Life from Bugs Bunny, I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve only watched 2 of this year’s nominated drama and comedy series (HBO’s The Last of Us and Hulu’s Only Murders in the Building) and a smattering of the nominated talk/scripted variety series (The Daily Show, Last Week Tonight, and SNL).
Consequently, despite being the designated pop culture guy around these parts, I am hardly qualified to offer up my “predictions” for all the category winners. So, I won’t.
With the infinite amount of streaming platforms, bundling options, and on-demand “content” to choose from …are the Emmys even relevant anymore? I remember sifting through the latest TV Guide and drawing up a viewing plan for the upcoming week with the square-jawed commitment of a field general strategizing troop deployment. I also kept extra Reynolds Wrap on hand to enhance reception. But that was a long, long time ago.
While I have a traditional cable package, often I find myself slipping into streaming-fed niche obsessions. Currently, it’s international crime procedurals on MHz and PBS Masterpiece, with a predilection for Nordic Noir. If you really must pry (“I must! I must!”) I have also been bingeing The Saint and Peter Gunn on Prime Video. So it goes.
Oh, I’ll still DVR Sunday night’s ceremony; I have a couple shows to root for, and it’s inherently fun to watch award shows (speaking for myself). I’m feeling magnanimous, so I’ll share my DVR playback strategy. If you wait 50 minutes to start watching your recording, you can zip past most of the commercial breaks and still catch up in real time about 20 minutes before the telecast wraps (this system also works for the Academy Awards, and you’re welcome).
In the meantime, please enjoy this (late) Summer re-run.
Diamonds in the idiot box: Top 20 TV themes
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 14, 2022)
I’m taking a break from sticky floors and stale popcorn tonight to share my favorite TV show themes. It began as a “top 10” list, but I quickly gleaned that I had assigned myself a fool’s errand with that limitation. So I upped the ante to 15. Then 20 (damn my OCD!).
The Adventures of Pete and Pete – Nickelodeon’s best-kept secret, and a guilty pleasure. Gentle anarchy in the Bill Forsyth vein. I discovered, watched, and occasionally re-watch favorite episodes as an (alleged) adult. You can’t resist the hooks in Polaris’ theme.
Cheers – “Norm!” Gary Portnoy performed (and co-wrote) this upbeat show opener.
Coronet Blue – When I was 11, I became obsessed with this noir-ish, single-season precursor to the Bourne films. This theme has been stuck in my head since, oh…1967?
Due South – Paul Haggis’ unique “fish out of water” crime dramedy about a Canadian Mountie assigned to work with the Chicago P.D. was one of my favorite shows of the 90s (confession: I own all 4 seasons on DVD). It also had a great theme song, by Jay Semko.
Hawaii Five-O – The Ventures were the original surf punks (and they’re from Tacoma!).
M*A*S*H – Johnny Mandel’s lovely chart (ported from Robert Altman’s 1970 film, sans Mike Altman’s lyrics) is quite melancholic for a sitcom-but it spoke to the show’s pathos.
The Mary Tyler Moore Show – This ever-hopeful tune plays a bit wistfully now that Ms. Moore has shuffled off, but hey-as long as we have syndication, we’ll always have Mary.
Mission Impossible – Argentine jazz man Lalo Schifrin (who passed away earlier this year) hit the jackpot with this memorable theme (he composed some great movie soundtracks too, like Cool HandLuke). Legendary “Wrecking Crew” bassist Carol Kaye really lays it down here.
The Monkees – Here’s the cosmic conundrum that keeps me up nights: Mike Nesmith was my favorite Monkee…yet the Monkees remain Mike Nesmith’s least favorite band.
The Office (BBC original series) – For my money, nobody tops future Atomic Rooster lead singer Chris Farlowe’s soulful 1967 take on this oft-covered Mike d’Abo composition, but this nice rendition by Big George obviously struck Ricky Gervais’ fancy.
Peter Gunn – Henry Mancini was a genius, plain and simple. Wrote hooks in his sleep.
Portlandia – Somehow, stars Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein (along with series co-creator/director Johnathan Krisel) mined 7 seasons of material by satirizing hipster culture. Like any sketch-comedy show, it’s hit-and-miss, but when it hits a bullseye, it’s really funny. It’s easy to fall in love with Washed Out’s atmospheric dream pop theme.
Rawhide – “Move ‘em on! Head ‘em up!” This performance explains why Mel Brooks enlisted Frankie Laine to sing the Blazing Saddles theme. I’m afraid this squeezed Bonanza off my list (I’m sure I will be verbally bull-whipped by some of you cowpokes).
Secret Agent Man – This Johnny Rivers classic opened U.S. airings of the U.K. series Danger Man (which had a pretty cool harpsichord-driven instrumental theme of its own).
The Sopranos – For 7 years, Sunday night was Family night in my house. Fuhgettaboutit.
Square Pegs – This short-lived 1982 comedy series (created by SNL writer Anne Beatts) was, in hindsight, a bellwether for the imminent John Hughes-ification of Hollywood. Initially a goofy cash-in on New Wave/Valley Girl couture, it has become a cult favorite.
The Twilight Zone – It’s the Twilight Zone “theme”, but it’s not so much conventional composition as it is avant-garde sound collage (ahead of its time, like the program itself).
Weeds – I suspect many of the show runners of this outstanding Showtime dramedy weren’t even born when Malvina Reynolds recorded this song; but its cheeky social satire is a perfect match.
The Wire – This lauded HBO series is a compelling portmanteau of an American city in sociopolitical turmoil. The Blind Boys of Alabama’s urban blues hits just the right notes.
WKRP – I’ve worked in broadcasting since Marconi, so trust me when I say that this sitcom remains the most accurate depiction of life in the biz. Tom Wells composed the breezy theme, show creator Hugh Wilson wrote the lyrics, and Steve Carlisle performs it.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 6, 2025)
It’s been another one of those news cycles, hasn’t it? Believe me…I feel your pain.
So stop doomscrolling already, grab your favorite tranquilizer (prescription or otherwise), don a pair of noise cancelling ‘phones and settle back for another one of my chillaxing “Book of Saturday” mixtapes (vol. 4, if you’re counting). I’ve sequenced the songs in a manner designed to evoke and sustain a particular mood-so for maximum effect, may I suggest that you listen to it in order. And remember, I am not a licensed music therapist, I just play one on TV.
Peace.
Ultra Vivid Scene – “Mirror to Mirror”
Pink Floyd – “Remember a Day”
John Foxx – “Europe After the Rain”
The Cleaners From Venus – “Girl on a Swing”
New Musik – “This World of Water”
Wire – “Map Ref 41 Degrees N 93 Degrees W”
Fous de la Mer – “Watersong”
Steve Hackett – “Icarus Ascending”
Kevin Kendle – “Cumulus”
Cocteau Twins – “Lazy Calm”
Robin Trower – “Daydream”
Greenslade – “Bedside Manners Are Extra”
Emerson, Lake, & Palmer – “From the Beginning”
Jakko – “Dangerous Dreams”
The Apartments – “Things You’ll Keep”
The Go-Betweens – “The Streets of Your Town”
Jay Semko – “dueSouth Theme”
Jethro Tull – “Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day”
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on August 23, 2025)
It’s de riguer these days to say “satire is dead” (usually preceded by a resigned shrug and appended with a world-weary sigh). Barely a week goes by without someone publishing another Voice of Doom think piece entitled “Is Satire Really Dead?” (or a variation thereof).
If the 2007 Super Bowl commercials and ever-escalating voter participation in shows like American Idol are any indication, the dumbed-down “future” of America depicted in Mike Judge’s lightweight allegory, Idiocracy, is perhaps only belaboring the obvious. […]
Well…the America of “2505” is not so much dystopian, as it is dys-stupido. As the droll narrator explains, evolution has favored those who reproduce the most (you know…morons!). The #1 TV show is called “Ow My Balls”, and the #1 film is “Ass” (kind of says it all). […]
If you’ve surrendered to the premise at this point in the film, you won’t flinch when the President, a former WWF champion (not such a stretch, considering former and current guvs Ventura and Schwarzenegger) ends up appointing Joe his Secretary of the Interior.
Judge isn’t really saying anything new here; beyond pointing out that we live in a dumbed-down culture (yawn). There are a few inspired moments; particularly the keen observation that the progressive reduction of America’s average IQ is directly proportionate to the ever-increasing square footage of the average Costco store.
There is a bit of irony I can’t get past; it was Mike Judge who created MTV’s Beavis and Butthead, which one might argue played its own part in the “dumbing down” of a generation that came of age in the 90’s…
Hindsight being 20/20, I suppose you could argue that history has proven me to be the ass, and Mike Judge the gifted seer (in my own defense-back in 2007, how many of us could have visualized the Bizarro World of 2025?). At any rate, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Idiocracy is the film most frequently cited as a harbinger what we’re living through now (although I stand by my original two-and-a-half star rating, harrumph).
Then again, social satire always reflects its time; and the best ones reveal universal truths that transcend their time (prescient by nature). So I would suggest that satire is, in fact, not “dead”…it’s just resting. Here are 10 personal favorites that offer proof of life.
The Graduate – “Aw gee, Mrs. Robinson.” It could be argued that those were the four words in this 1967 Mike Nichols film that made Dustin Hoffman a star. With hindsight being 20/20, it’s impossible to imagine any other actor in the role of hapless college grad Benjamin Braddock…even if Hoffman (30 at the time) was a bit long in the tooth to be playing a 21-year-old character.
Poor Benjamin just wants to take a nice summer breather before facing adult responsibilities, but his pushy parents would rather he focus on career advancement immediately, if not sooner. Little do his parents realize that in their enthusiasm, they’ve inadvertently pushed their son right into the sack with randy Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), wife of his Dad’s business partner (the original cougar?). Things get complicated after Benjamin meets his lover’s daughter (Katharine Ross).
This is one of those “perfect storm” creative collaborations: Nichols’ skilled direction, Calder Willingham and Buck Henry’s witty screenplay, fantastic performances from the cast, and one of the best soundtracks ever (by Simon and Garfunkel). Some of the 60s trappings haven’t dated well, but the incisive social satire has retained all its sharp teeth. Look for Henry in a cameo as a room clerk.
Happiness –It’s difficult to describe the sensibilities of writer-director Todd Solondz, which tend to hover somewhere near the intersection of Wes Anderson and David Lynch. To wit: There is something oddly endearing about the characters in this black comedy…yet be warned there are some very, very, very bad things going on beneath these blue suburban skies (this ain’t Penny Lane).
In a setup reminiscent of Woody Allen’s Hannah and her Sisters, Solondz centers his story on the travails of a trio of adult siblings (Jane Adams, Lara Flynn Boyle and Cynthia Stevenson), their squabbling parents (Ben Gazzarra and Louise Lasser), and a number of friends, neighbors and co-workers in their orbit (believe me-the similarities end there).
The three bravest performances in the film (and that’s saying a lot) belong to the late Seymour Hoffman (in one of his more underrated turns), Dylan Baker, and Camryn Manheim. Also in the cast: Jared Harris, Elizabeth Ashley, Molly Shannon, and Jon Lovitz (Lovitz nearly steals the movie in the memorably audacious opening scene).
Admittedly, this film may not be everyone’s cup of tea (be prepared for that “cringe” factor) but if you’re OK with network narratives involving nothing but completely fucked-up individuals, this is your ticket. It’s a veritable merry-go-round of modern dysfunction.
Little Murders – This dark, dark comedy from 1971 is one of my all-time favorite films. It was directed by Alan Arkin and adapted by Jules Feiffer from his own self-described “post-assassination play” (referring to the then-relatively recent murders of Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy). That said, it is not wholly political; but it is sociopolitical (I see it as the pre-cursor to Paddy Chayefsky’s Network).
Elliot Gould is at the peak of his Elliot Gould-ness as a nihilistic (and seemingly brain-dead) free-lance photographer who is essentially browbeaten into a love affair with an effervescent sunny side-up young woman (Marcia Rodd) who is bound and determined to snap him out of his torpor.
The story follows the travails of this oil and water couple as they slog through a dystopian New York City chock full o’ nuts, urban blight, indifference and random shocking acts of senseless violence (you know…New York City in the 70s).
There are so many memorable vignettes, and nearly every cast member gets a Howard Beale-worthy monologue on how fucked-up American society is (and remember…this was 1971). Disturbingly, it remains relevant as ever. But it is very funny. No, seriously. The cast includes Vincent Gardenia, Elizabeth Wilson, Doris Roberts, Lou Jacobi (who has the best monologue) and Donald Sutherland. Arkin plays an eccentric homicide investigator-and he’s a hoot.
Lost in America – Released at the height of Reaganomics, this 1985 gem can now be viewed in hindsight as a spot-on satirical smack down of the Yuppie cosmology that shaped the Decade of Greed. Director/co-writer Albert Brooks and Julie Hagerty portray a 30-something, upwardly mobile couple who quit their high-paying jobs, liquidate their assets, buy a Winnebago, and hit the road with a “nest egg” of $145,000 to find themselves. Their goals are nebulous (“we’ll touch Indians”).
Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, the “egg” is soon off the table, and the couple find themselves on the wrong end of “trickle down”, to Brooks’ chagrin. Like most Brooks films, it is as painfully funny as it is to watch it (I consider him the founding father of the Larry David/Ricky Gervais school of “cringe comedy”).
The Loved One – In 1965, this black comedy/social satire was billed as “The motion picture with something to offend everyone.” By today’s standards, it’s relatively tame (but still pretty sick). Robert Morse plays a befuddled Englishman struggling to process the madness of southern California, where he has come for an extended visit at the invitation of his uncle (Sir John Gielgud) who works for a Hollywood studio.
Along the way, he falls in love with a beautiful but mentally unstable mortuary cosmetician (Anjanette Comer), gets a job at a pet cemetery, and basically reacts to all the various whack-jobs he encounters.
The wildly eclectic cast includes Jonathan Winters (in three roles), Robert Morley, Roddy McDowell, Milton Berle, James Coburn, Liberace, Paul Williams and Rod Steiger (as Mr. Joyboy!). Tony Richardson directed; the screenplay was adapted by Terry Southern and Christopher Isherwood from Evelyn Waugh’s novel.
Network – Back in 1976, this satire made us chuckle with its outrageous conceit-the story of a “fictional” TV network who hits the ratings g-spot with a nightly newscast turned variety hour, anchored by a self-proclaimed “angry prophet denouncing the hypocrisy of our time”.
Nearly 50 years later, it plays like a documentary (denouncing the hypocrisy of our time). The prescience of the infinitely quotable Paddy Chayefsky screenplay goes deeper than prophesying the onslaught of news-as-entertainment (and “reality” television)-it’s a blueprint for our age.
In the opening scene, drunken buddies Peter Finch (as Howard Beale, respected news anchor soon to suffer a mental breakdown and morph into “the mad prophet of the airwaves”) and William Holden (as Max Shumacher, head of the news division for the “UBS” network) riff on an imaginary pitch for a news rating booster-“Real live suicides, murders, executions-we’ll call it The Death Hour.”
The most famous scene is Beale’s “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” tirade, a call to arms (borne from a “cleansing moment of clarity”) for viewers to turn off the tube, break the spell of their collective stupor, literally stick their heads out the window and make their voices heard. It’s a memorable and inspired set piece.
For me, the most defining scene is between Beale and Arthur Jensen (CEO of “CCA”-wonderfully played by Ned Beatty). Jensen is calling Beale on the carpet for publicly exposing a potential buyout of CCA by shadowy Arab investors. Cognizant that Beale is crazy as a loon, yet still a cash cow for the network, Jensen hands him a new set of stone tablets from which to preach-the “corporate cosmology of Arthur Jensen”. It is screenwriter Chayefsky’s finest monologue.
Faye Dunaway steals all of her scenes as Diana Christenson, the soulless, ratings obsessed head of development who schemes to turn Beale’s mental illness into revenue (“You’re television incarnate, Diana,” Holden’s character tells her.) With its “evergreen” relevancy, I think Network will stand as Lumet’s most enduring film.
The New Age –Writer-director Michael Tolkin’s 1994 black comedy was the most scathing indictment of the American dream gone Sonoma catalog since Albert Brooks’ Lost in America (see review above). The New Age re-teams the Tracy & Hepburn of indie filmdom, Peter Weller and Judy Davis, who played the whacked-out couple in David Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch. Instead of heading off in an RV to go “find themselves”, Judy and Peter decide to “simplify” their over-extended lifestyle by going for broke and opening a Beverly Hills boutique. Hilarity ensues…right?
The film turns into a droll stroll through Yuppie Hell as we helplessly watch the couple plunge headlong in a tandem midlife crisis. Along the way, southern California trendies are lampooned, recalling Bill Persky’s 1980 comedy Serial (which aimed its barbs at the affluent Marin County set). Excellent supporting performances; the biggest surprise is Adam “Batman” West, who does a priceless turn as an aging Lothario.
Shampoo – Sex, politics, and the shallow SoCal lifestyle are mercilessly skewered in Hal Ashby’s classic 1975 satire. Warren Beatty (who co-scripted with Robert Towne) plays a restless, over-sexed hairdresser with commitment issues regarding the three major women in his life (excellent performances from Lee Grant, Goldie Hawn and Julie Christie).Beatty allegedly based his character of “George” on his close friend, celebrity hairdresser Jay Sebring (one of the victims of the infamous 1969 Tate-LaBianca slayings).
This was one of the first films to satirize the 1960s zeitgeist with some degree of historical detachment. The late great cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs infuses the L.A. backdrop with a gauziness that appropriately mirrors the protagonist’s fuzzy way of dealing with adult responsibilities.
To Die For – Gus Van Sant’s 1995 mockumentary centers on an ambitious young woman (Nicole Kidman, in one of her best performances) who aspires to elevate herself from “weather girl” at a small market TV station to star news anchor, posthaste. A calculating sociopath from the word go, she marries into a wealthy family, but decides to discard her husband (Matt Dillon) the nanosecond he asks her to consider putting her career on hold so they can start a family (discard…with extreme prejudice).
Buck Henry based his screenplay on Joyce Maynard’s true crime book about the Pamela Smart case (the obvious difference being that Smart was a teacher and not an aspiring media star, although it could be argued that during her high-profile murder trial, she did in fact become one).
The outstanding supporting cast includes Joaquin Phoenix, Casey Affleck, Illeana Douglas, Alison Foland, Dan Hedaya, and Wayne Knight, with brief appearances by Buck Henry, George Segal (uncredited) and a cameo by director David Cronenberg.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on August 16, 2025)
Pfft. Wow. That was a quick friggin’ summer.
Yes, I am aware that it’s mid-August…but students are already heading back to the classroom in some parts of the country. As great poets have said…autumn is over the long leaves that love us, yesterday is dead (but not in my memory), and it’s late September and I really should be back at school. Well, not literally (at 69, I’m a little mature for home room)…but my school days of yesteryear are not necessarily dead in my memory. I feel like I have to go to bed early now. Some habits die hard.
Anyway, here’s a back-to-school playlist that doesn’t include “The Wall” or “School’s Out” (don’t worry, you’ll get over it). Pencils down, pass your papers forward, and listen up…
“Alma Mater” – Alice Cooper
Oh, Alice. You should be on the stage.
Hey, remember the time – ‘member the time
We took that snake
And put down little Betsy’s dress?
Now I don’t think Miss Axelrod
Was much impressed
“At 17” – Janis Ian
Emo before it had a name:
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
When some loud braggart tries to put me down
And says his school is great
I tell him right away
Now, what’s the matter, buddy
Ain’t you heard of my school
“Cinnamon Street” – Roxette
Per Gessele is an underrated songwriter. A lovely sense memory from the Swedish pop-rock duo. Sadly, Marie Fredriksson passed away in 2019.
Growing up on Cinnamon Street
Everywhere you look there are lots of people to meet
It’s seven o’clock, the breakfast treat
Now the school bus is here, hurry up and grab a seat
“ELO Kiddies” – Cheap Trick
That’s enough out of you, you little truants!
So you missed some school?
You know school’s for fools
Today money rules
And everybody steals it
“Getting Better” – The Beatles
Stay in school, kids. This too shall pass. It gets better.
Iused to get mad at my school (Now I can’t complain)
The teachers who taught me weren’t cool (Now I can’t complain)
Holding me down
Turning me ’round
Filling me up with your rules
“Me & Julio Down by the Schoolyard” – Paul Simon
More troublemakers:
The mama looked down and spit on the ground
Every time my name gets mentioned
The papa said, “Oy, if I get that boy
I’m gonna stick him in the house of detention”
“My Old School” – Steely Dan
Another enigmatic narrative from Donald Fagen and Walter Becker, featuring some of Jeff “Skunk” Baxter’s finest fretwork.
Well, I did not think the girl
Could be so cruel
And I’m never going back
To my old school
“Rock ‘n’ Roll High School” – The Ramones
Halfway through my list, I’m thinking: Did any of these people pay attention in class?
Well, I don’t care about history
Rock, rock, rock ‘n’ roll high school
‘Cause that’s not where I wanna be
Rock, rock, rock ‘n’ roll high school
I just wanna have some kicks
I just wanna get some chicks
Rock, rock, rock, rock, rock ‘n’ roll high school
“School” – Supertramp
One of Roger Hodgson’s finer compositions. Ennio Morricone’s school days.
I can see you in the morning when you go to school
Don’t forget your books, you know you’ve got to learn the golden rule,
Teacher tells you stop your play and get on with your work
And be like Johnnie-too-good, well don’t you know he never shirks
He’s coming along
“School Days” – Chuck Berry
Hail hail to the chief. Pure rock ‘n’ roll poetry.
Up in the mornin’ and out to school
The teacher is teachin’ the golden rule
American history and practical math
You studyin’ hard and hopin’ to pass
Workin’ your fingers right down to the bone
And the guy behind you won’t leave you alone
“School Days” – The Runaways
Joan Jett to Janis Ian: “You thought seventeen was rough? Hold my beer.”
Never read a single book
Hated homework and the dirty looks
But now I live my life
There’s a lot I’ve seen at eighteen, oh yeah
“Schooldays” – The Kinks
Any cut from their Schoolboys in Disgrace album would do, but this one gets an ‘A’.
Schooldays were such happy days
Now they seem so far away
I remember and I’ll always treasure
Schooldays were the happiest days of your life
But we never appreciate the good times we have
Until it’s too late
“School Yard” – Joe Vitale
Hazy memories of a high school crush.
There was a bench in the park by the school yard
There was a tree overhead
And we would meet secretly if you wanted
We were fifteen…
“Smokin’ in the Boy’s Room” – Brownsville Station
I miss Cub Koda.
Sitting in the classroom, thinking it’s a drag
Listening to the teacher rap, just ain’t my bag
The noon bells rings, you know that’s my cue
I’m gonna meet the boys on floor number two!
“Status Back Baby” – Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention
I think Frank needs to go to the councilor’s office for a pep talk. Wah wah wah wah.
The other night we painted posters
We played some records by the coasters
Wah wah wah wah
A bunch of pom-pom girls
Looked down their nose at me
They had painted tons of posters, I had painted three
I hear the secret whispers everywhere I go
My school spirit is at an all time low
“Teacher Teacher” – Rockpile
OK, it’s only analogous to the school experience. But hey…we never stop learning.
Young love, young pet
Cheeks flushing, apple red
Ringing you every day
Begging for a word of praise
I’ve put aside my foolish games
I run and hide and callin’ names
Miles out, the bells are ringin’
Now’s the time to teach me everything
“Thirteen” – Big Star
First crush.
Won’t you let me walk you home from school?
Won’t you let me meet you at the pool?
Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I’ll take you, ooh-ooh
“To Sir, With Love” – Lulu
Ode to a mentor.
A friend who taught me right from wrong
And weak from strong
That’s a lot to learn
What, what can I give you in return?
“Wind-up” – Jethro Tull
An English schoolboy who (I sense) has a problem with authority.
When I was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game
I didn’t mind if they groomed me for success
Or if they said that I was just a fool
So I left there in the morning
With their God tucked underneath my arm
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on August 9, 2025)
Oh we will all burn together when we burn.
There’ll be no need to stand and wait your turn.
When it’s time for the fallout
And saint peter calls us all out,
We’ll just drop our agendas and adjourn.
You will all go directly to your respective valhallas.
Go directly, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dolla’s.
And we will all go together when we go.
Ev’ry hottenhot and ev’ry eskimo.
When the air becomes uranious,
And we will all go simultaneous.
Yes we all will go together
When we all go together,
Yes we all will go together when we go.
– – from “We Will All Go Together When We Go”, by Tom Lehrer (1928-2025)
The gentleman who wrote that jaunty singalong was musician, singer-songwriter, political satirist and mathematician Tom Lehrer, who slipped the surly bonds of Earth back in late July. He may be gone, but the message of that particular song (written at the height of the Cold War era) is as timely as ever; especially in light of remarks made earlier this week by the mayor of Hiroshima, Japan on the 80th anniversary of the nuclear bombing of his city:
The mayor of Hiroshima has led calls for the world’s most powerful countries to abandon nuclear deterrence, at a ceremony to mark 80 years since the city was destroyed by an American atomic bomb.
As residents, survivors and representatives from 120 countries gathered at the city’s peace memorial park on Wednesday morning, Kazumi Matsui warned that the conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East had contributed to a growing acceptance of nuclear weapons.
“These developments flagrantly disregard the lessons the international community should have learned from the tragedies of history,” he said in his peace declaration, against the backdrop of the A-bomb dome – one of the few buildings that survived the attack eight decades ago.
“They threaten to topple the peace-building frameworks so many have worked so hard to construct,” he added, before urging younger people to recognise that acceptance of the nuclear option could cause “utterly inhumane” consequences for their future.
Despite the global turmoil, he said, “we, the people, must never give up. Instead, we must work even harder to build civil society consensus that nuclear weapons must be abolished for a genuinely peaceful world.”
As applause rang out, white doves were released into the sky, while an eternal “flame of peace” burned in front of a cenotaph dedicated to victims of the world’s first nuclear attack.
The ceremony is seen as the last opportunity for significant numbers of ageing hibakusha – survivors of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki – to pass on first-hand warnings of the horror of nuclear warfare.
Just under 100,000 survivors are still alive, according to recent data from the health ministry, with an average age of just over 86.
Surely, our current U.S. administration is acknowledging this week of remembrance by contemplating ways it can do its part (on behalf of all Americans ) to help build that “genuinely peaceful world”…right?
Moscow broke its silence on President Donald Trump’s comments ordering two nuclear submarines to “the appropriate regions” in response to “provocative” remarks by a former Russian president.
Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov told Russian state media on Aug. 4 that the country was “very attentive” to the topic of nuclear non-proliferation and believed “everyone should be very, very cautious with nuclear rhetoric.”
Peskov also played down the significance of Trump’s comments, saying it was clear to Russia that U.S. submarines were already on combat duty. He said Russia had no appetite for getting into a prolonged argument with Trump.
Still, Trump’s deployment of the nuclear submarines appears to be the first time social media rhetoric has led an American president to apparently reposition parts of the United States’ nuclear arsenal. (Trump did not specify whether he was referring to nuclear-powered or nuclear-armed submarines.)
Trump said the move was in response to statements from Dmitry Medvedev, who was the Russian president from 2008 to 2012 and prime minister from 2012 to 2020. He is now the deputy chairman of Russia’s Security Council. Medvedev, who in recent years has taken to social media to post spiky, rabble-rousing comments aimed at the United States, said in a post on X, formerly Twitter, that Trump’s recent threats to sanction Russia, including a tariffs ultimatum, were “a step towards war.”
Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Putin himself has frequently resorted to nuclear threats. The Kremlin has repeatedly suggested that Moscow could use nuclear weapons under certain circumstances.
The latest spat follows Trump’s trip to Scotland, where he said he was reducing his 50-day deadline for Russia to make moves toward trying to end its war with Ukraine – down to a new deadline of 10 or 12 days. That deadline is Aug. 8. Trump warned of “very severe” sanctions on Russia if it does not commit to a ceasefire.
Anyway, I think it would behoove any reasonable world leader to heed the warnings of the hibakusha. In solidarity with their message on this solemn anniversary, I am re-posting the following piece.
(The following was originally posted on August 3, 2024)
Happy End of the World: Top 15 Anti-Nuke Films
“The atomic bomb made the prospect of future war unendurable. It has led us up those last few steps to the mountain pass; and beyond there is a different country.”
-J. Robert Oppenheimer
[Shame mode] All the times I’ve zipped by the I-82 turn-off to Richland, Washington while driving on I-90 and thought “hey, isn’t that where that Hanford superfund nuclear thingy is?” I’ve never stopped to ponder its historical significance. Adjacent to the Hanford Nuclear Site that was built in the early 1940s to house nuclear government workers at the height of the Manhattan Project, Richland is, in essence, a company town; a true “atomic city” with a problematic legacy.
Then again, according to Irene Lusztig’s absorbing documentary Richland (which I caught at last year’s Tribeca Film Festival), how “problematic” depends on who you talk to. Many current residents don’t see why anyone would fuss over the local high school football team’s “mascot”, which is …a mushroom cloud.
The town manufactured weapons-grade plutonium for decades following the end of WW2-to which they had a direct hand in “ending”, via providing the plutonium for the ”Fat Man” nuclear bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki. Lusztig incorporates archival footage for historical context; these segments reminded me of the 1982 documentary The Atomic Cafe. I wasn’t able to track down whether the film is streaming anywhere; but here’s the trailer:
Speaking of which…we are several days away from the 79th anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing. So what have we learned since 8:15am, August 6, 1945-if anything? Well, we’ve tried to harness the power of the atom for “good”, however, as has been demonstrated repeatedly, that’s not working out so well (Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, Fukushima, et al).
Also, there are enough stockpiled weapons of mass destruction to knock Planet Earth off its axis, and no guarantees that some nut job, whether enabled by the powers vested in him by the state, or the voices in his head (doesn’t matter-end result’s the same) won’t be in a position at some point in the future to let one or two or a hundred rip. Hopefully, cool heads and diplomacy will continue to keep us above ground and rad-free.
After all, if history has taught us anything, it doesn’t take much to trigger a global conflict. Interestingly, just last week TCM ran their premiere showing of Nathan Kroll’s 1964 documentary The Guns of August. The film is based on historian and journalist Barbara W. Tuchman’s eponymous Pulitzer Prize-winning 1963 book, which focuses on the first year of World War I (1914) and the events leading up to it (Kroll’s film covers the entire conflict through 1918).
I hadn’t seen the film in decades; I’d forgotten how straightforward and sobering it was in illustrating how an unfortunate series of blunders, miscalculations, misinterpretations and failed diplomacy among the ruling houses of Europe triggered a conflict that ultimately led to 20 million people dead and 21 million wounded (military and civilian casualties combined).
Most famously, the flashpoint occurred on June 28, 1914 with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand (presumptive heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne) and his wife Sophie, the Duchess of Hohenberg by a Bosnian Serb revolutionary (and the rest, as they say, is History).
Now we’d like to think that such arcane regional bickering and random acts of political violence half a world away from our comfortable living rooms cannot possibly lead to a horrific global conflict ever again…right? I mean, in this day and age? What are the odds?
The U.S. is adding to its military presence in the Middle East in an effort to help defend Israel from possible attacks by Iran and its proxies in the coming days, as well as to protect U.S. troops, the Pentagon says.
Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin said on Friday that he ordered more ballistic missile defense-capable cruisers and destroyers to the Middle East and Europe. An additional fighter jet squadron will also be sent to the Middle East. Austin added that the U.S. is also taking steps “to increase our readiness to deploy additional land-based ballistic missile defense.”
The USS Abraham Lincoln aircraft carrier strike group will also be moved to the Middle East in order “to maintain a carrier strike group presence.” It will replace the USS Theodore Roosevelt carrier strike group after the end of its deployment.
This week, tensions in the Middle East pushed to a critical point after top leaders from the militant groups Hamasand Hezbollah were killed and Iran and its proxies vowed revenge. Iran’s Revolutionary Guards said Saturday that Tehran’s retaliation will be “severe and (taken) at an appropriate time, place, and manner,” Reuters reported. […]
Austin said in a statement on Friday that while the U.S. is taking additional measures to support Israel, its priority is to prevent a wider war in the Middle East.
Let’s hope so. In such volatile regions of the world, prevention is preferable to escalation.
Speaking of which …in light of the upcoming presidential election in November, one of the most pressing questions (no pun intended) voters should ask themselves before marking their ballots is this:
Whose finger would you rather see hovering over the proverbial “red button”? Which candidate is less likely to fumble the “nuclear football”? The what?
Officially called the “ Presidential Emergency Satchel, ” the “nuclear football” is a bulky briefcase that contains atomic war plans and enables the president to transmit nuclear orders to the Pentagon. The heavy case is carried by a military officer who is never far behind the president, whether the commander-in-chief is boarding a helicopter or exiting meetings with world leaders.
Today, nearly 80 years after the beginning of the nuclear age, the risks posed by nuclear weapons are escalating. U.S. presidential leadership may be the most important factor in whether the risk of nuclear arms racing, proliferation, and war will rise or fall in the years ahead.
As UN Secretary-General António Guterres said in a June 7 statement: “Humanity is on a knife’s edge. The risk of a nuclear weapon being used has reached heights not seen since the Cold War. States are engaged in a qualitative arms race. [W]e need disarmament now. All countries need to step up, but nuclear weapons states must lead the way.”
American voters are increasingly aware and, according to recent polling, deeply concerned about nuclear weapons dangers. A 2024 national opinion survey found that a majority of Americans believe that nuclear weapons make the world more dangerous. Overall, just one in eight Americans (13 percent) think nuclear weapons are making the world a safer place, while 63 percent think the opposite, and 14 percent say neither.
In 2024, the candidates’ approaches to these dangers deserve more scrutiny.
How exactly the winner of the 2024 race will handle the evolving array of nuclear weapons-related challenges is difficult to forecast.
Just something to keep in mind come November. No pressure.
With those happy thoughts in mind, I thought I’d share my picks for the top 15 cautionary films to watch before we all go together (when we go). Uh…enjoy?
The Atomic Café – Whoopee, we’re all gonna die! But along the way, we might as well have a few laughs. That seems to be the impetus behind this 1982 collection of cleverly reassembled footage culled from U.S. government propaganda shorts from the Cold War era (Mk 1), originally designed to educate the public about how to “survive” a nuclear attack (all you need to do is get under a desk…everyone knows that!).
In addition to the Civil Defense campaigns (which include the classic “duck and cover” tutorials) the filmmakers have also drawn from a rich vein of military training films, which reduce the possible effects of a nuclear strike to something akin to a barrage from, oh I don’t know- a really big field howitzer. Harrowing, yet perversely entertaining. Written and directed by Jayne Loader, Pierce Rafferty and Kevin Rafferty (Kevin went on to co-direct the similarly constructed 1999 doc, The Last Cigarette, a take down of the tobacco industry).
Black Rain– For obvious reasons, there have been a fair amount of postwar Japanese films dealing with the subject of nuclear destruction and its aftermath. Some take an oblique approach, like Gojira or I Live inFear. Other films, like the documentary Children of Hiroshima and the anime Barefoot Gen deal directly with survivors (who are referred to in Japan as the hibakusha).
One of the most affecting hibakusha films I’ve seen is Shomei Imamura’s 1989 drama Black Rain (not to be confused with the 1989 Hollywood crime thriller of the same title that is also set in Japan). It’s a simple tale of three Hiroshima survivors: an elderly couple and their niece, whose scars run much deeper than physical. The narrative is sparse, yet contains more layers than an onion (especially considering the complexities of Japanese society). Interestingly, Imamura injects a polemic which points an accusatory finger in an unexpected direction.
The Day after Trinity– This absorbing 1981 film about the Manhattan Project and its subsequent fallout (historical, political and existential) remains one of the best documentaries I have seen on the subject. At its center, it is a profile of project leader J. Robert Oppenheimer, whose moment of professional triumph (the successful test of the world’s first atomic bomb, three weeks before Hiroshima) also brought him an unnerving precognition about the horror that he and his fellow physicists had enabled the military machine to unleash.
Oppenheimer’s journey from “father of the atomic bomb” to anti-nuke activist (and having his life destroyed by the post-war Red hysteria) is a tragic tale of Shakespearean proportion. I think this documentary provides a much more clear-eyed (and ultimately moving) portrait than Christopher Nolan’s well-acted but somewhat overwrought 2023 blockbuster Oppenheimer. Two recommended companion pieces: Roland Joffe’s 1989 drama Fat Man and Little Boy, about the working relationship between Oppenheimer (Dwight Schultz) and military director of the Manhattan Project, General Leslie Groves (Paul Newman); and an outstanding 1980 BBC miniseries called Oppenheimer (starring Sam Waterston).
Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb- “Mein fuehrer! I can walk!” Although we have yet to experience the global thermonuclear annihilation that ensues following the wheelchair-bound Dr. Strangelove’s joyous (if short-lived) epiphany, so many other depictions in Stanley Kubrick’s seriocomic masterpiece about the tendency for those in power to eventually rise to their own level of incompetence have since come to pass, that you wonder why the filmmakers even bothered to make it all up.
It’s the one about an American military base commander who goes a little funny in the head (you know…”funny”) and sort of launches a nuclear attack on the Soviet Union. Hilarity and oblivion ensues. And what a cast: Peter Sellers (as three characters), George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden, Slim Pickens, Keenan Wynn, James Earl Jones and Peter Bull. There are so many great quotes, that you might as well bracket the entire screenplay (by Kubrick, Terry Southern and Peter George) with quotation marks.
Fail-Safe– Dr. Strangelove…without the laughs. This no-nonsense 1964 thriller from the late great director Sidney Lumet takes a more clinical look at how a wild card scenario (in this case, a simple hardware malfunction) could ultimately trigger a nuclear showdown between the Americans and the Russians.
Talky and a bit stagey; but riveting nonetheless thanks to Lumet’s skillful knack for bringing out the best in his actors. Walter Bernstein’s intelligent screenplay (with uncredited assistance from Peter George, who also co-scripted Dr. Strangelove) and a superb cast that includes Henry Fonda (a commanding performance, literally and figuratively), Walter Matthau, Larry Hagman, and Fritz Weaver.
There’s no fighting in this war room (aside from one minor scuffle), but there is an almost unbearable amount of tension and suspense. The final scene is chilling and unforgettable.
I Live in Fear-This 1955 Akira Kurosawa film is one of the great director’s most overlooked efforts. It’s a melodrama concerning an aging foundry owner (Toshiro Mifune, unrecognizable in Coke-bottle glasses and silver-frosted pomade) who literally “lives in fear” of the H-bomb. Convinced that South America would be the “safest” place on Earth from radioactive fallout, he tries to sway his wife and grown children to pull up stakes and resettle on a farm in Brazil.
His children, who have families of their own and rely on their father’s factory for income, are not so hot on that idea. They take him to family court and have him declared incompetent. This sends Mifune spiraling into madness. Or are his fears really so “crazy”? It is one of Mifune’s most powerful and moving performances. Kurosawa instills shades of Shakespeare’s “King Lear” into the narrative (a well he would draw from again in his 1985 film Ran).
Ladybug, Ladybug– I didn’t have an opportunity to see this chilling 1963 drama until 2017, which is when Turner Classic Movies presented their premiere showing (to my knowledge, it had never been previously available in any home video format). The film marked the second collaboration between husband-and-wife creative team of writer Eleanor Perry and director Frank Perry (The Swimmer, Last Summer,Diary of a Mad Housewife).
Based on an incident that occurred during the 1962 Cuban missile crisis, the story centers on how students and staff of a rural school react to a Civil Defense alert indicating an imminent nuclear strike. While there are indications that it could be a false alarm, the principal sends the children home early. As teachers and students stroll through the relatively peaceful countryside, fears and anxieties come to the fore. Naturalistic performances bring the film’s cautionary message all too close to home.
Miracle Mile- Depending on your worldview, this is either an “end of the world” film for romantics, or the perfect date movie for fatalists. Anthony Edwards and Mare Winningham give winning performances as a musician and a waitress who Meet Cute at L.A.’s La Brea Tar Pits museum. But before they can hook up for their first date, Edwards stumbles onto a fairly reliable tip that L.A. is about to get hosed…in a major way.
The resulting “countdown” scenario is a genuine, edge-of-your seat nail-biter. In fact, this modestly budgeted, 90-minute sleeper offers more heart-pounding excitement (and much more believable characters) than any bloated Hollywood disaster epic from the likes of a Michael Bay or a Roland Emmerich. Writer-director Steve De Jarnatt stopped doing feature films after this 1988 gem (his only other feature was the sci-fi cult favorite Cherry 2000).
One Night Stand –An early effort from filmmaker John Duigan (Winter ofOur Dreams, The Year My Voice Broke, Flirting, Sirens), this 1984 sleeper got lost in the flurry of nuclear paranoia movies that proliferated during the Reagan era (Wargames, The Manhattan Project, Red Dawn, et.al.).
Four young people (three Australians and an American sailor who has jumped ship) get holed up in an empty Sydney Opera House on the eve of escalating nuclear tension between the superpowers in Eastern Europe. In an effort to quell their anxiety over increasingly ominous news bulletins droning from a portable radio, the quartet find creative ways to keep up their spirits.
Uneven, but for the most part Duigan (who scripted) deftly juggles romantic comedy, apocalyptic thriller and anti-war statement. There are several striking set pieces; particularly an affecting scene where the group watches Fritz Langs’s Metropolis as the Easybeats’ “Friday on My Mind” is juxtaposed over its orchestral score. Midnight Oil performs in a scene where the two young women attend a concert. The bittersweet denouement (in an underground tube station) is quite powerful.
Special Bulletin– This outstanding 1983 made-for-TV movie has been overshadowed by the nuclear nightmare-themed TV movie The Day After, which aired the same year (I’m sure I will be raked over the coals by some readers for not including the aforementioned on this list, but frankly I always thought it was too melodramatic and vastly over-praised).
Directed by Edward Zwick and written by Marshall Herskovitz (the same creative team behind thirtysomething), Special Bulletin is framed as a “live” television broadcast, with local news anchors and reporters interrupting regular programming to cover a breaking story.
A domestic terrorist group has seized a docked tugboat in Charleston Harbor. A reporter relays their demand: If every nuclear triggering device stored at the nearby U.S. Naval base isn’t delivered to them by a specified time, they will detonate their own homemade nuclear device (equal in power to the bomb dropped on Nagasaki). The original airing apparently panicked more than a few South Carolinian viewers (a la Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds radio broadcast in 1938). Riveting and chilling. Nominated for 6 Emmys, it took home 4.
Testament- Originally an American Playhouse presentation, this film (with a screenplay adapted by John Sacred Young from a story by Carol Amen) was released to theaters and garnered a well-deserved Best Actress nomination for Jane Alexander. Director Lynne Littman takes a low key approach, but pulls no punches; I think this is what gives her film’s anti-nuke message more teeth and makes its scenario more relatable than Stanley Kramer’s similarly-framed but more sanitized and preachy 1959 drama On the Beach.
Alexander, her husband (William DeVane) and three kids live in sleepy Hamlin, California, where afternoon cartoons are interrupted by a news flash that nuclear explosions have occurred in New York. Then there is a flash of a different kind when nearby San Francisco (where DeVane has gone on a business trip) receives a direct strike.
There is no exposition on the political climate that precipitates the attacks; this is a wise decision, as it puts the focus on the humanistic message of the film. All of the post-nuke horrors ensue, but they are presented sans the melodrama that informs many entries in the genre. The fact that the nightmarish scenario unfolds so deliberately, and amidst such everyday suburban banality, is what makes it very difficult to shake off.
As the children (and adults) of Hamlin succumb to the inevitable scourge of radiation sickness and steadily “disappear”, like the children of the ‘fairy tale’ Hamlin, you are left haunted by the final line of the school production of “The Pied Piper” glimpsed earlier in the film… “Your children are not dead. They will return when the world deserves them.”
Thirteen Days– I had a block against seeing this 2000 release about the 1962 Cuban missile crisis, for several reasons. For one, director Roger Donaldson’s uneven output (for every Smash Palace or No Way Out, he’s got a Species or a Cocktail). I also couldn’t get past “Kevin Costner? In another movie about JFK?” Also, I felt the outstanding 1974 TV film, The Missiles of October (which I recommend) would be hard to top. But I was pleasantly surprised to find it to be one of Donaldson’s better films.
Bruce Greenwood and Steven Culp make a very credible JFK and RFK, respectively. The film works as a political thriller, yet it is also intimate and moving at times (especially in the scenes between JFK and RFK). Costner provides the “fly on the wall” perspective as Kennedy insider Kenny O’Donnell. Costner gives a compassionate performance; on the downside he has a tin ear for dialects (that Hahvad Yahd brogue comes and goes of its own free will).
According to the Internet Movie Database, this was the first film screened at the White House by George and Laura Bush in 2001. Knowing this now…I don’t know whether to laugh or cry myself to sleep.
The War Game / Threads– Out of all of the selections on this list, these two British TV productions are the grimmest and most sobering “nuclear nightmare” films of them all.
Writer-director Peter Watkins’ 1965 docudrama, The War Game was initially produced for television, but was deemed too shocking and disconcerting for the small screen by the BBC. It was mothballed until picked up for theatrical distribution, which snagged it an Oscar for Best Documentary in 1967. Watkins envisions the aftermath of a nuke attack on London, and pulls no punches. Very ahead of its time, and it still packs quite a wallop.
The similarly stark and affecting nuclear nightmare drama Threads debuted on the BBC in 1984, later airing in the U.S. on TBS. Director Mick Jackson delivers an uncompromising realism that makes The Day After (the U.S. TV film from the previous year) look like a Teletubbies episode. It’s a speculative narrative that takes a medium sized city (Sheffield) and depicts what would likely happen to its populace during and after a nuclear strike, in graphic detail.
Both productions make it clear that, while they are dramatizations, the intent is not to “entertain” you in any sense of the word. The message is simple and direct-nothing good comes out of a nuclear conflict. It’s a living, breathing Hell for all concerned-and anyone “lucky” enough to survive will soon wish they were dead.
When the Wind Blows– This animated 1986 U.K. film was adapted by director Jimmy Murakami from Raymond Brigg’s eponymous graphic novel. It is a simple yet affecting story about an aging couple (wonderfully voiced by venerable British thespians Sir John Mills and Dame Peggy Ashcroft) who live in a cozy cottage nestled in the bucolic English countryside. Unfortunately, an escalating conflict in another part of the world is about to go global and shatter their quiet lives.
Very similar in tone to Testament (another film on this list), in its sense of intimacy amidst slowly unfolding mass horror. Haunting, moving, and beautifully animated, with a combination of traditional cell and stop-motion techniques. The soundtrack features music by David Bowie, Roger Waters, and Squeeze.
And now to sing us out, the late great Tom Lehrer…
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