Film

Subterms

    Latest story

    200 Shares84 Views

    Home Alone 2 director says he fears he will be deported if he cuts Trump cameo

    by

    Film-maker Chris Columbus says he has come to regard Donald Trump’s cameo in his movie Home Alone 2: Lost in New York as “an albatross” that he wishes to remove.But, Columbus added, he fears the president’s administration would deport him if he followed through with nixing the scene from more than 30 years ago.“It’s become this curse,” Columbus told the San Francisco Chronicle in an interview published Monday. “It’s become an albatross for me. I just wish it was gone.”Though born and raised in the US, the San Francisco resident of Italian ancestry said he worried he would “have to go back to Italy or something” if he erased the cameo.Columbus’s comments – made in advance of a tribute he is scheduled to receive at the 68th San Francisco international film festival on 26 April – revisited a controversy that began in 2020, toward the conclusion of Trump’s first presidency. The director of both Home Alone films told Business Insider that Trump’s cameo in the 1992 sequel was a condition of being able to film inside New York’s Plaza hotel, which Trump owned at the time.Trump, best known at that time as a real-estate development tycoon, “did bully his way into the movie”, Columbus told Business Insider, describing how the cameo was on top of a fee. He claimed Trump told him: “The only way you can use the Plaza is if I’m in the movie.”In late 2023, less than a year before he became president for the second time, Trump went on his Truth Social platform and accused Columbus of lying. He said Columbus’s team was “begging” him to make a cameo and that it ended up being “great for the movie”.Columbus opted against immediately responding to those claims from Trump. Yet in Monday’s interview, the director made it a point to say: “I’m not lying. … There’s no world I would ever beg a non-actor to be in a movie. But we were desperate to get the Plaza hotel.”According to Columbus, his instinct was to cut the cameo and regrets that he changed his mind after viewers at a screening in Chicago “cheered … and cheered and … thought it was hilarious”.“I never thought that was going to be considered hilarious,” Columbus said, referring to the seven-second scene in which Trump gives star Macaulay Culkin’s character directions on the Plaza Hotel. “It’s become this thing that I wish … was not there.”The idea of removing Trump from Home Alone – which made $359m (£280m) to become 1992’s third-highest grossing film – has been tested before.Trump supporters complained in 2019 when a cut of Home Alone 2 screened on Canadian television removed his cameo. Then, in early 2021, Culkin himself said he was “sold” on the concept of digitally removing Trump from the film.Columbus’s remark to the Chronicle that he fretted being ousted from the US if he did trash Trump’s cameo alluded to prominent deportation cases being pursued by the White House.In one instance since he retook the Oval Office, Trump’s administration erroneously deported a man living in Maryland to a mega-prison in El Salvador. And immigration officials under his command have detained academic scholars around the US for deportation proceedings after their support of pro-Palestine protests.The Trump administration has also sought to punish media figures which it considers to have crossed the president. Trump has demanded $20bn from CBS News in a lawsuit over the editing of a 60 Minutes interview with his opponent in the 2024 election, former vice-president Kamala Harris. He also sued the Des Moines Register over an Iowa election poll that turned out to be inaccurate.ABC News recently settled a lawsuit with Trump for $15m over incorrectly saying the president had been found civilly liable for raping E Jean Carroll. A jury had actually found Trump “sexually abused” Carroll but had not raped her.“I can’t cut it,” Columbus – whose other blockbusters include Mrs Doubtfire and the first two Harry Potter films – reportedly said of Trump’s cameo.“If I cut it, I’ll probably be sent out of this country. I’ll be considered sort of not fit to live in the United States.” More

    More stories

    • 138 Shares118 Views

      in US Politics

      ‘Everything is political’: how film can guide us through difficult times

      by

      From its opening frame, Costa-Gavras’s political thriller Z promises to be an unflinching denunciation of authoritarianism. The kinetic camera work matches its forthright narrative of state-sponsored violence and the erosion of democracy. The Greek expatriate director’s film is loosely based on the 1963 assassination of the democratic leader Grigoris Lambrakis and although it was released in 1969, when Costa-Gavras reigned as a political storyteller, the film still has something to say today in this “golden age” for the United States.In the flurry of Donald Trump’s executive orders, I found myself watching Z again as I contemplated how we arrived at this political moment – the polarization, disinformation, corruption and complicity by individuals and institutions that precede and abet the collapse of democracy – and what cinema can reveal at a time of censorship, deportations and protesters vilified as domestic terrorists.It turns out, that’s a lot.There’s a long tradition of turning anti-totalitarian books into films. George Orwell’s 1984, Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale have been revisited multiple times, confirming the staying power of these cautionary tales in a world where freedom is still dispensable. And there’s also a long tradition of films commenting on totalitarianism. Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, released in 1940, mocked Adolf Hitler while warning about the dangers of the Führer before the US entered the second world war. I’m Still Here, this year’s Oscar winner for best international feature film, looks at the real-life fallout from Brazil’s dictatorship through the lens of Eunice Paiva’s struggle to discover what happened to her husband Rubens, a former politician who was disappeared by the military in 1971.View image in fullscreenCosta-Gavras has said: “Everything is political.” We can see his point in several films across genres that capture how authoritarianism takes root, the importance of resisting unjust systems and the often-protracted fight for human rights and dignity.Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus, about a slave uprising in the Roman empire, depicts a hero who fought for the principle of self-determination. Kirk Douglas plays the titular character, a reluctant gladiator who leads the uprising. But the politics behind the 1960 film – and the politics the film represented – are as powerful as the story of the slave revolt. In the hands of screenwriters Dalton Trumbo and Howard Fast, who were blacklisted and imprisoned during the red scare, Spartacus is an allegory for the human right to resist oppressive systems. (The film was based on Fast’s book, written in prison and published in 1951.) In universalizing Spartacus’s desire for freedom, the film-makers echoed the themes of the growing civil rights movement and defended dissent against the censorship of McCarthyism. However, the film isn’t content to leave us with a depiction of heroic freedom fighters. Instead, in its final scenes it highlights the steep price of dissent and the sometimes-protracted struggle for social change. When the uprising fails, Spartacus and his followers are crucified, but his son is born free. The rebellion may be short-lived, but it’s not in vain.V for Vendetta, the 2005 dystopian film based on the graphic novel by Alan Moore, is a less straightforward story of rebellion against an unjust system and more a critique of the role of government and commentary on the power of an idea to incite social change. Set in a future London in the grips of a fascist regime, the film follows V, played by Hugo Weaving, who is determined to destroy the regime and repay its leaders for torturing him. He hides his identity behind a mask of Guy Fawkes, who with a small band of Catholic co-conspirators attempted to blow up parliament and assassinate King James in 1605. The conspirators wanted the Protestant king to be more tolerant toward Catholics. The conspiracy’s failure is commemorated annually. In the final standoff with the regime’s enforcers, V says: “People should not be afraid of their governments, governments should be afraid of their people,” a statement that could be a motto and a rallying cry for our times.French film-maker Ladj Ly told the Hollywood Reporter: “I’m an artist, and my job is only to denounce the unjust reality as I see it. I have no solutions. I hope what the film will do is expose the humiliating situations that people are dealing with every day and help more people understand the situation – and why so many of us feel this rage.”View image in fullscreenLy’s acclaimed film Les Misérables, about an uprising against police violence by young Black and Arab men, is set in the segregated banlieues outside Paris. The Siege, a 1998 American film directed by Edward Zwick and co-written by Lawrence Wright, author of The Looming Tower, mines similar territory. The film is set in contemporary Brooklyn where the US military has seized control of the borough after a string of terrorist attacks. The military detains thousands of men of Arab and Middle Eastern descent while people demonstrate for their release outside the barbed-wire fences surrounding the stadium where they are held. Released five years after the first attempt to blow up the World Trade Center and three years before 9/11, The Siege is perhaps more relevant now than it was when it premiered. The ongoing deaths in Gaza and the threats of deportation against foreign students demonstrating on behalf of Palestinians give the film an urgency.While aspects of the film seem improbable – given its history of surveillance, it’s doubtful that the FBI would confront the military over defending the constitutional rights of detainees – The Siege dares to have a debate we need to have: what it means to be a patriot. When FBI agent Denzel Washington walks in on commanding general Bruce Willis as a man is being tortured, Washington asks, exasperated and outraged: “Are you people insane?” The ensuing argument between the men about the relationship between patriotism and the US constitution could be richer, but at least the film knows the issue must be debated.As Ly says, film, like art, can reflect and shape reality. Not surprisingly, Z was a favorite of the Black Panther party, which screened an advanced print at a national anti-fascist conference. The Panthers, whose members were surveilled and killed, saw their story in the film. In the climax of Z, everyone involved in exposing the truth about the murder of the populist leader is imprisoned, killed or exiled. And as the military cracks down on free speech, a list of banned words and activities, from freedom of the press to labor unions, continuously scrolls behind the television news anchors announcing the decrees. In its disturbing epilogue, Z reminds us of a universal truth about authoritarians that we can’t afford to ignore: to succeed they must first control information. More

    • 225 Shares153 Views

      in US Politics

      Dear Disney: don’t cave to Trump. We need you to shape dreams for kids everywhere | Jeff Yang

      by

      I remember the moment I truly recognized the power Disney has to move young hearts and minds.It was when I attended a sneak preview of Disney’s adaptation of the Chinese legend of Mulan, about a young woman who disguises herself as a man and takes up her wounded father’s sword to defend her nation.I enjoyed the movie, with its combination of swashbuckling, slapstick and show tunes. But as I filed out of the theater, what I saw hit me like a fire-dragon rocket: two blond, apple-cheeked siblings, probably under the age of eight, leaping and sparring and loudly arguing over the right to pretend to be the movie’s main character, Mulan. A boy and a girl, neither of them Asian, both so enthralled by the film’s Chinese protagonist that they each aspired to be her.It reminded me that Disney doesn’t just tell stories; it shapes dreams, creating heroes iconic enough to inspire young kids to imagine and be more, and providing empowering figures that enable people from different backgrounds to see themselves – and one another.It’s still staggering for me to think that Mulan, a story from China with a gender-blurred title role, was greenlit, made and released in 1998 and is now broadly accepted alongside Bambi as a timeless animated classic – especially now that Maga has announced it’s coming after the House of Mouse, with the apparent objective to make sure that nothing like it is ever made again.On 27 March, the Trump-appointed Federal Communications Commission (FCC) chair, Brendan Carr – a dead ringer for Who Framed Roger Rabbit’s mirthless toon-terrorizer Judge Doom – sent a letter to Disney’s CEO, Bob Iger, informing him that he had directed the agency’s enforcement bureau to begin an investigation into Disney’s diversity, equity and inclusion policies.Carr stated that he wanted to ensure that Disney had not been “promoting invidious forms of DEI discrimination”, calling out as examples the company’s employee affinity groups, its “Reimagine Tomorrow” multicultural showcase and especially the company’s “inclusion standards”, a set of goals that aim to increase the number of characters from underrepresented groups to half of the regular and recurring roles on its TV network, ABC.It’s hard to explain why any of these are “discriminatory” or “invidious”; voluntary employee-led clubs – which have no restrictions or requirements for membership – are discriminatory? A website featuring remixes of Disney songs sung by artists of color and explanations of how to sign “Mickey Mouse” in ASL is invidious? Even the “inclusion standards” are just broadly aspirational objectives, which could be met in any number of ways: Disney’s definition of “underrepresented groups” includes women, people of color, LGBTQ+ people, disabled persons and military veterans.But the mere threat of the investigation has triggered Disney to begin a cautious reframing of some of these initiatives. The Reimagine Tomorrow site is gone, and now points to a generic inclusion page headed by the message: “At Disney, we want everyone to belong and thrive.” The company’s business employee resource groups have been redubbed “belonging” employee resource groups.Carr’s letter makes it clear that mere semantic shifts won’t be enough, demanding that Disney’s policies be “changed in a fundamental manner”. And while Carr cites “equal opportunity rules” and the need to ensure “fair and equal treatment under the law”, it’s obvious that he won’t be satisfied until Disney changes the one thing that the FCC is restricted from regulating by the US constitution: its content.View image in fullscreenOf course, the first amendment prevents the government from infringing on freedom of expression, except in very narrowly delimited ways. Where the FCC is concerned, the only way it can impose its will on a creative company’s storytelling choices is if they are obscene, indecent or profane or contain dangerous disinformation. So the agency can’t just demand that Disney stop making shows about Asian princesses or Black superheroes or Latina anthropomorphic automobiles.Yet that’s just what Carr is doing – using the back door of equal employment opportunity to claim that by casting people who aren’t straight or white or male in its movies and TV programs, Disney is unfairly withholding employment from straight white males. And unless Disney is ready to announce Timothée Chalamet as the new Black Panther, which, thank God, it isn’t, targeting the studio’s ability to hire diverse talent is a deliberate attempt to force it away from making diverse stories.That would spell business disaster for Disney.Yes, the studio has had its share of flops, which the Maga mob has blamed on multicultural casting – including, most recently, its unfairly pilloried live-action remake of the 1937 animated masterpiece Snow White, starring Rachel Zegler, whose mother is Colombian. The film, made on a $240m budget, has so far earned just $142m at the box office, its prospects poisoned by controversy over Zegler’s advocacy on behalf of Palestine and racist backlash over her Latina heritage from online creeps.But similar attacks were also levied against Disney’s The Little Mermaid remake, starring the African American actor Halle Bailey as Ariel, and that film was a box-office success and global streaming blockbuster. It also made the storyline relevant in new ways to young women – which makes sense, given that Disney’s goal with its remakes isn’t simply to photocopy the past, but to extend and refresh it, reaching untapped audiences of the present and emerging markets of the future.If that means they sometimes swing and miss in the short term, in the long run it all evens out, because Disney doesn’t actually plan their business by quarter or year – they blueprint it by age bracket. Their franchises are designed to be evergreen and intentionally aligned to “graduate” kids up a ladder of content: girls go from Muppets to Disney Fairies to Disney princesses to Disney’s Descendants. Boys go from Cars to Pirates to Star Wars to Marvel superheroes. The ultimate goal is to ensure that there’s something for every stage of growing up until young adulthood arrives and their fans become parents themselves, allowing Disney to earn money across the consumer life cycle, generation after generation.And every generation of Americans is more diverse. Baby boomers were 29% people of color. Gen X, 41%. Millennials, 46%, gen Z, 50%. The youngest rising cohort – those born after 2012, and currently squarely in Disney’s prime target demo – is officially the first to be “majority minority”, with kids of color making up a full 52% of gen Alpha.Whatever Trump’s mandate may be, Disney’s demographic mandate should be stronger. The company defiantly and successfully resisted attempts by Ron DeSantis to strong-arm it into ending its diversity practices in Florida. While Trump’s flying assault is coming from a higher top rope, the Mouse should still be mighty enough to fend it off and roar back.Disney’s incentive will be what it always has been: making money. But for diverse communities, the positive manifestation of Disney’s profit motive has been that kids growing up today know what it feels like to be mirrored in the media they consume, with all of the psychological and emotional benefits that confers.I’ve seen this first-hand, as someone who grew up in an era nearly devoid of Asian representation in Hollywood, and who went through the bizarre experience of having my elder son, Hudson Yang, star in the first hit TV series focused on an Asian American family. To this day, Hudson still receives surprise hugs from people who grew up tuning into Fresh Off the Boat once a week, and wide-eyed stares from kids who have discovered it years later through TikTok clips and streaming reruns.The network that aired the show for six seasons, beginning in 2014? Disney’s ABC, a decade before inclusion standards existed and before Maga was around to protest them. And that gives me optimism that Disney will keep doing what it has done so well for generations, regardless: give children from a wide array of backgrounds an answer – “now and here” – to the question in Mulan’s signature ballad: “When will my reflection show who I am inside?” More

    • 138 Shares168 Views

      in US Politics

      Visions of America: 25 films to help understand the US today

      by

      This is a dire moment in the US. It’s a moment where there’s an opportunity for people with a lot of money to rip apart all of the guidelines enacted by the Roosevelt administration, way back in the day, to guard against the brutality of unfettered capitalism. Capitalists like to have all the power that they want, whenever they want it. They’re not much interested in democracy either, it turns out. Nor, apparently, the rule of law. The government is not the solution – it’s the problem. And now a vengeful president who just wanted a get-out-of-jail-free card is going to punish his enemies and show us all how to destroy the American administrative state by using the big stick of Elon Musk’s chequebook.It reminds me of that moment in Once Upon a Time in the West, when Henry Fonda sits behind the rail tycoon’s desk and says: “It’s almost like holding a gun, only much more powerful.” The US has always been about money. That’s been our blessing and our curse. It’s the land of great opportunity, but that obsession with money over everything else has now taken us to a very bad place. We’ve reached the dark side of the American dream.As a film-maker at this moment, I feel defeated in one sense: you always look in the rear-view mirror and wish your films had had a more lasting impact. Yet the fight for liberty and democracy is a never-ending one, so I’m still very much engaged. I’m reminded of what Salman Rushdie said at the Pen America World Voices festival in 2022: “A poem cannot stop a bullet. A novel can’t defuse a bomb. But we are not helpless. We can sing the truth and name the liars.”Art can always have an impact, but it isn’t Pavlovian. It isn’t a vending machine. A film won’t make someone go out tomorrow and pass a law. What you hope for is that it will be a kind of a slow-motion timebomb in the psyche of the audience, where they begin to reckon with essential human values. When I made The Crime of the Century, my documentary about the opioid crisis, I wasn’t thinking to instigate a particular kind of change. That wasn’t the purpose of the film. I was concerned that people tended to look at the crisis as something that just “happened”, like a hurricane. I wanted to emphasise that it was an intentional crime, in which people were literally killing people for money. It wasn’t something to be endured, but to be reckoned with. I wanted the film to help reorient the vision of the viewers.I’ve got a diptych of films coming out next month called The Dark Money Game, all about the power of dark money and how that’s become part of the American system. It’s about how white-collar crime is now almost legal: so long as rich people are stealing, it’s OK. And I’ve also been working for two years on a film about Elon Musk, to get at some deeper understanding of not only who this man is and why he’s doing what he’s doing, but also why we’re letting him. A lot of my films are crime films, in a way. It was Chekhov who said that if there’s a gun on the mantel in the first act, it had better go off in the third act. So very often I’m faced with the spectacle of a gun going off. My job is to look back to find the guns on the mantels.I’m naturally drawn to the film-makers who explore the dark side: the Scorseses of this world. And at a time such as this, you want to engage the darkness of the moment – but you also want films that reaffirm your sense of humanity. It’s not an American film, but I was deeply inspired recently by Walter Salles’s I’m Still Here, about surviving a military dictatorship: it was so finely observed and so deeply human. There’s always a way out. This is a pendulum and it swings back and forth. But, you know, if we don’t wake up, then it’s going to be a very long, dark period. Alex Gibney (as told to Guy Lodge)American Factory(Julia Reichert and Steven Bognar, 2019)Best for: a look at what the American workforce faces in a globalised economy.View image in fullscreenAn Oscar winner for best documentary feature and the first film acquired by Barack and Michelle Obama’s Higher Ground production company, this perceptive, humane film examines the initial promise of a modified, modernised American dream, as an abandoned General Motors plant in Ohio is reopened by a Chinese company, only for the new owners’ labour practices and values to clash sourly with those of their working-class American employees. Shot between 2015 and 2017, it captures a country’s growing insularity at the outset of the Trump era.The Apprentice(Ali Abbasi, 2024)Best for: a primer on how the Trump mythos began.View image in fullscreenFew were especially looking forward to a Donald Trump biopic from Iranian-Danish director Ali Abbasi when it premiered at Cannes last year: don’t we see enough of him as it is? But this period-perfect, video-grainy portrayal of his rise to celebrity in the 1980s is caustically gripping and insightful, as Sebastian Stan’s dead-on performance captures the chronic insecurity behind his bluster, while Jeremy Strong’s venal lawyer Roy Cohn models the behaviour of a toxic sociopath. A stark, shattering scene of Trump raping his former wife Ivana, meanwhile, was a gutsy inclusion.Bisbee ’17(Robert Greene, 2018)Best for: understanding how the US confronts its history, or doesn’t.View image in fullscreenIn 1917, in the small Arizona mining town of Bisbee, more than 1,200 immigrant mine workers were kidnapped and illegally deported to the New Mexico desert 200 miles away. Robert Greene’s highly original hybrid documentary studies how the Bisbee of the 21st century processes this shameful history, as local people mark the centenary of the event by staging a grand-scale re-enactment that raises debate and dissent in the general community. It’s a wise, eerie reflection on how Americans can compartmentalise or rationalise the past – but also acts as a mirror for anti-immigrant sentiment in the present day. History is never fully over.Bowling for Columbine(Michael Moore, 2002)Best for: fuelling rage against US gun laws.View image in fullscreenThe obnoxiously hectoring documentary style of Michael Moore might now seem of a previous era, but in the 22 years since this ferocious polemic won an Oscar, the frank absurdity of the US gun crisis hasn’t been more vigorously addressed on screen. By now, mass school shootings such as the Columbine massacre are distressingly commonplace stateside; Moore’s restless, roving examination of its causes and effects still hits hard, and bitterly underlines just how little has been done to prevent such occurrences in the intervening decades.The Brutalist(Brady Corbet, 2024)Best for: a timeless dissection of the soured American dream.View image in fullscreenBrady Corbet’s Oscar-winning, three-and-a-half-hour-plus epic might be set between the 1940s and the 1980s, but it has plenty to say to the 2020s, as it unfolds the plight of a Hungarian immigrant architect whose personal fortunes and creative ideals are gradually stymied by the Faustian allure of American capitalism. As a miserable east coast mogul seeking to own not just art but the artist, by dint of sheer wealth, Guy Pearce unnervingly encapsulates the ruinous entitlement of the 1%.The Crime of the Century(Alex Gibney, 2021)Best for: a journalistic exploration of the continuing US opioid crisis.View image in fullscreenWeighing in at nearly four hours overall, Gibney’s two-part documentary is as comprehensive a film as has been made on the opioid epidemic plaguing the US today, beginning with a look at how the Sackler family got OxyContin approved by the Food and Drug Administration, before getting into the mass marketing of fentanyl – taking on all manner of corporate corruption and human devastation along the way. If you can handle more rage against big pharma after watching it, pair it with Laura Poitras’s more emotive, award-winning All the Beauty and the Bloodshed.Don’t Look Up(Adam McKay, 2021)Best for: summing up the divided US stance on the climate crisis.View image in fullscreenAdam McKay’s brash, broad social satire split critical opinion a few years ago, but there’s resonance in even the silliest aspects of its farce, as it captures the grating, oppressive cacophony of a population at war with itself, even in the face of universally impending disaster. The environmental crisis isn’t directly addressed, but the metaphor couldn’t be clearer: a planet-destroying comet is headed towards Earth, but scientists can’t make Americans take heed over a din of debate, denial and political spin.Election(Alexander Payne, 1999)Best for: American electoral politics brought down to brass tacks.View image in fullscreenAny number of films have been made about the complex vagaries of American electoral campaigns, but have they ever been summarised as simply and cruelly as they are in Alexander Payne’s lethally dark high school comedy? The stakes might be comparatively low in this anatomy of a midwestern student body vote, but try telling that to Reese Witherspoon’s indelible overachiever Tracy Flick – an analogue for every ambitious, capable woman ever deemed too unlikable to succeed by dominant male mediocrity.A Face in the Crowd(Elia Kazan, 1957)Best for: a prescient vision of the US media landscape at its most cynical.View image in fullscreenNot a great success upon its release in 1957, Elia Kazan’s nearly 70-year-old media satire has enjoyed quite a revival in recent years – even being adapted into a stage musical at the Young Vic last year. That’s because, its mid-century milieu notwithstanding, it speaks directly to the modern era of faux-populist celebrity construction and public manipulation. Its protagonist, Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes, a drifting Arkansas hayseed discovered by a New York radio producer and turned into a merchant of increasingly hypocritical homespun wisdom, is an idiot savant monster whose popular touch calls Joe Rogan to mind.The Florida Project(Sean Baker, 2017)Best for: a slice of life on the poverty line.View image in fullscreenSeveral years before he stormed the Oscars with his sex worker story Anora, Sean Baker received less than his due for one of the definitive modern portraits of poor white America, turning an attentive and compassionate gaze to a demographic often dismissed with cruel stereotypes. Playing out largely through the eyes of Moonee, the six-year-old daughter of an unemployed stripper barely surviving day to day in an Orlando fleapit motel, it avoids condescension as it shows us the wonder that the young girl routinely finds in squalor.Hale County This Morning, This Evening(RaMell Ross, 2018)Best for: an immersive, unsensationalised view of everyday life in the south.View image in fullscreenBefore switching to fiction with his recent, radical adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s Nickel Boys, RaMell Ross made his name with this exquisite, Oscar-nominated mosaic of daily routines and rhythms among the predominantly Black residents of Hale County, Alabama. Interspersing carefully observed vignettes with more lateral poetic meditations, it was described by Ross as an “epic banal” work, aiming to “bring elation to the experience of blackness”. The film’s calm lyricism and granular detail stand out against other, more vocally political modern docs on that experience.Here(Robert Zemeckis, 2024)Best for: a telling boomer viewpoint on the US past and present, for better or worse.View image in fullscreenRobert Zemeckis’s kitschy, AI-assisted graphic novel adaptation about centuries of American life playing out on one patch of land bombed in cinemas, and not undeservedly so – but I’m not sure I’ve seen a film recently that captures the stiflingly conservative family values of the modern US with more inadvertent accuracy, or the political overreach of white liberal worldview. (Its passages on Indigenous trauma and the Black Lives Matter movement are a veritable time capsule of cringe.)I Am Not Your Negro(Raoul Peck, 2016)Best for: bringing a fresh context to the history of US racism.View image in fullscreenThis Bafta-winning documentary from Haitian film-maker Raoul Peck is based on Remember This House, an unfinished manuscript by trailblazing Black writer and activist James Baldwin, and brings vital visual information to his literary examination of racism in the US. Told via Peck’s own experiences and through reflections on the work and legacy of Martin Luther King Jr and Malcolm X, among others, it’s a fascinating history lesson bristling with modern relevance.In Jackson Heights(Frederick Wiseman, 2015)Best for: a celebration of American diversity.View image in fullscreenVeteran documentarian Frederick Wiseman is the foremost US chronicler of the country’s institutions and communities, whether in his midwest portrait Monrovia, Indiana or his exhaustive administrative study City Hall. But his most vital recent work is this vast cinematic patchwork of life in the teemingly diverse New York City neighbourhood of Jackson Heights, as its gaze takes in everything from a Muslim school to an LGBTQ support meeting to a Jewish community centre – adding up to a compelling study of how the US, at its best, can evolve to meet the needs of a changing population.Joker(Todd Phillips, 2019)Best for: a popular touchstone of current American masculinity.View image in fullscreenWhen Todd Phillips’s unexpectedly artsy, ambitious superhero spinoff movie premiered at Venice, scooping up the Golden Lion, the heated critical debates began: had he made the ultimate “incel” manifesto, or a snarling critique thereof? Six years and one flop sequel later and there’s still no consensus, not least because some audiences adopted Joaquin Phoenix’s downtrodden, mentally ill, ultimately murderous Arthur Fleck as an anti-woke icon and others recoiled from his toxic villainy. Phoenix’s Oscar-winning performance makes him disturbingly sympathetic in either light.RoboCop(Paul Verhoeven, 1987)Best for: a not-so-futuristic projection of where the American police state is heading.View image in fullscreenForget the various meat-headed sequels and increasingly kid-targeted cartoon violence. Verhoeven’s original action blockbuster was an ice-cold, viciously satirical vision of American capitalism and militarisation heading towards an unholy worst-case scenario: a privatised corporate police force staffed by ruthless droids, with predictably dire consequences for humanity. Nearly 40 years later, it’s ageing horribly well: under Trump, its dystopian world-building seems only slightly far-fetched.Shy Boys IRL(Sara Gardephe, 2011)Best for: a snapshot of the origins of incel culture.View image in fullscreenGardephe’s viral short is scrappily shot and only half an hour long, but remains a definitive visual text in our understanding of what, in 2011, had not yet been popularly named “incel culture” – an online community of young men, frustrated by their failure to meet and date women, whose involuntary celibacy seeds an increasingly toxic view. Gardephe’s film, which has recently enjoyed a resurgence on TikTok, treated incels as a subculture then, but today looks prescient in identifying a far broader social phenomenon.Sound of Freedom(Alejandro Monteverde, 2023)Best for: an insight into rightwing blockbuster heroism.View image in fullscreenOn the face of it, Alejandro Monteverde’s sentimental search-and-rescue thriller is straightforwardly gung-ho stuff, following an intrepid homeland security agent (played by The Passion of the Christ star Jim Caviezel) as he sets out to crack a child sex-trafficking ring in Colombia. But as produced and marketed by conservative faith-based entertainment company Angel Studios, the film became laden, intentionally or otherwise, with intricately coded QAnon conspiracy theories, and was championed by the right as a rejoinder to the supposedly reprobate output of leftist mainstream Hollywood. Sure enough, it was a sleeper hit, and there’s a lot to be learned from watching it.Stillwater(Tom McCarthy, 2021)Best for: a canny distillation of the culture gap between the US and Europe.View image in fullscreenPlainly inspired by the Amanda Knox case, Tom McCarthy’s quietly potent culture-clash thriller was unfairly written off by many critics, but there’s some acute wisdom in its portrayal of a gun-loving, blue-collar Oklahoma dad navigating the intricacies of the French legal system – and eventually taking his own roughneck revenge – to save his imprisoned daughter. It’s a criminal melodrama with blunt contrivances softened and complicated by Matt Damon’s knotty, humane portrayal of a character who would be easier to demonise.Strong Island(Yance Ford, 2017)Best for: a searingly personal account of the struggles of social integration.View image in fullscreenIn 1992, Yance Ford’s brother William, a young, unarmed Black man, was shot dead by a white 19-year-old who claimed self-defence and was subsequently acquitted by an all-white jury. That might have been more than 30 years ago, but Ford’s pained, unflinching documentary points to enduring unequal treatment in its first-hand portrait of a Black family who anticipated a better life on moving to the suburbs of Long Island, only to find, ultimately, they were unwelcome outsiders. Ford, a trans film-maker, has a sharply intersectional understanding of minority identity; his film is both an elegy and a plea for change.Support the Girls(Andrew Bujalski, 2018)Best for: A snapshot of labour politics with a side of lively feminism.View image in fullscreenThere may be no brand more absurdly and quintessentially American than the lurid, unabashedly chauvinist “breastaurant” Hooters, and it gets a wicked send-up in this breezy but bittersweet workplace comedy, starring a wonderful Regina Hall as the world-weary manager of one such institution. Following her across her last two days of employment, and glancing upon the various crises of its female staff members, it’s a casually piquant skewering of unjust labour practices in a still-patriarchal society, and a warm valentine to the women who endure them.13th(Ava DuVernay, 2016)Best for: a thorough breakdown of the US prison-industrial complex.View image in fullscreenThe title refers to the 13th amendment to the US constitution, abolishing slavery and involuntary servitude – except as punishment for convicted criminals. In her first documentary, Ava DuVernay uses this caveat as the basis for a compelling argument that slavery continues to this day in the US prison system, further challenging the corporations that profit from it. With interview subjects ranging from activist Angela Davis to politician Newt Gingrich, it’s the most expansive and searching work of DuVernay’s career.Time(Garrett Bradley, 2020)Best for: an unromantic, long-view take on fighting the power.View image in fullscreenIf 13th offers an essayistic takedown of the prison-industrial complex, Garrett Bradley’s heart-wrenching documentary takes a more personal view of the subject, portraying Black abolitionist Fox Rich, AKA Sibil Fox Richardson, and her 20-year campaign for the release of her husband, Robert, sentenced to 60 years in prison for his role in an armed bank robbery. It’s a powerful study of systemic dysfunction and the lives caught up in it, but also a hard, realistic view of the exhausting grind of long-term activism.Us(Jordan Peele, 2019)Best for: an allegory for the class divide in the Black US.View image in fullscreenJordan Peele’s 2017 smash, Get Out, immediately established him as a leading Hollywood merchant of political commentary as entertainment, as it probed the threat posed to the Black population even by supposed white liberals. But this even better follow-up film got into thornier, more nuanced territory with its ingenious examination of American privilege, classism and gentrification, alongside its ramifications as visited upon a bourgeois Black family terrorised by their “tethered” underclass doppelgangers. It’s witty, frightening and rings violently true.White Noise(Daniel Lombroso, 2020)Best for: explaining the rise of the far right.View image in fullscreenIt’s cold comfort that the three principal subjects of Daniel Lombroso’s upsetting documentary on the surge of the “alt-right” movement in the US – Richard Spencer, Mike Cernovich and Lauren Southern – are no longer as prominent in the news as they were when the film was made five years ago: they’ve simply been surpassed by other toxic celebrities as white supremacy has expanded from the fringes to the mainstream. Produced by news publisher the Atlantic, the film works as an excavation of the movement’s roots, and is suitably pessimistic about where it’s heading. More

    • 150 Shares125 Views

      in US Politics

      FCC to investigate Disney and ABC over potential violation in diversity practices

      by

      The US’s top media regulator on Friday said it was opening an investigation into the diversity practices of Walt Disney and its ABC unit, saying they may violate equal employment opportunity regulations.Brendan Carr, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) chair, wrote to the Disney CEO, Robert Iger, in a letter dated on Thursday that the company’s diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) efforts may not have complied with FCC regulations and that changes by the company may not go far enough.“For decades, Disney focused on churning out box office and programming successes,” Carr wrote in the letter. “But then something changed. Disney has now been embroiled in rounds of controversy surrounding its DEI policies.“I want to ensure that Disney ends any and all discriminatory initiatives in substance, not just name,” Carr wrote.He has sent letters to Comcast and Verizon announcing similar investigations into diversity practices.Disney has come into conflict with Republicans in recent years. In 2023 the Florida governor, Ron DeSantis, clashed with Disney over its opposition to the state’s so-called “don’t say gay” law and rightwingers have attacked the company for being “woke” – most recently for the casting of Rachel Zegler, an American actor of Colombian descent, in the titular role of its Snow White reboot.“We are reviewing the Federal Communications Commission’s letter, and we look forward to engaging with the commission to answer its questions,” a Disney spokesperson said.Disney recently revised its executive compensation policies to remove diversity and inclusion as a performance metric, adding a new standard called “talent strategy”, aimed at upholding the company’s values.Carr said the FCC’s enforcement bureau would be engaging with Disney “to obtain an accounting of Disney and ABC’s DEI programs, policies, and practices”.Carr, who was designed chair by Donald Trump on 20 January, has been aggressively investigating media companies.In December, ABC News agreed to give $15m to Trump’s future presidential library to settle a lawsuit over comments that anchor George Stephanopoulos made on air involving the civil case brought against Trump by the writer E Jean Carroll.Days after Carr took over as chair, the FCC reinstated complaints about the 60 Minutes interview with Harris, as well as complaints about how ABC News moderated the pre-election TV debate between then president Joe Biden and Trump.It also reinstated complaints against Comcast’s NBC for allowing Harris to appear on Saturday Night Live shortly before the election.Trump has sued CBS for $20bn, claiming that 60 Minutes deceptively edited the interview in order to interfere in the November presidential election, which he won.Reuters contributed reporting More

    • 163 Shares129 Views

      in US Politics

      And the loser is … politics: why was this year’s Oscars so reluctant?

      by

      Twenty-two years ago, the last time Adrien Brody won the Academy award for best actor, film-maker Michael Moore accepted his own Oscar for Bowling for Columbine, a documentary about America’s obsession with guns, by offering a preview of sorts of his next feature, Fahrenheit 9/11. He decried then president George W Bush as “fictitious” (alluding to his fishy, supreme court-assisted election win a year and a half earlier) and excoriated the Bush administration for sending the United States to war with Iraq – just three days earlier, in fact – for “fictitious reasons”. It was received with a mixture of applause and boos, probably the most memorable moment of the night, give or take Brody planting a kiss on Halle Berry.Two years later, when Fahrenheit 9/11 might have been similarly honored (and almost certainly would have been, as it became the highest-grossing non-music doc ever in the US, a record it still holds after two decades), Moore wasn’t on stage. Months earlier, he had decided not to submit his movie for consideration, nominally because he didn’t feel like he needed to steal focus from other, less widely seen docs, and also because he was negotiating an airing of the film on TV, which would scotch its eligibility anyway. By the time the Oscars rolled around, however, the presidential election Moore had hoped to affect with that television airing was long over; Bush won again, and maybe a documentary designed to prevent this from happening wouldn’t have seemed worth all the fuss, anyway. The administration’s worst policies were still in place, but protesting them seemed less urgent. Better to just put on a fun show.Politically speaking, this year’s 97th Academy Awards felt more like that ceremony 20 years ago: we lost; let’s forget about it. But considering that the second Trump administration is embarking upon the most destructive and illegal government purge seen in modern US history while also shifting alliances toward strongman figures overseas, it felt conspicuous that it was barely commented upon, beyond host Conan O’Brien’s joke that Anora was well-received because it featured a character actually standing up to Russians. Even this felt more like a typical (if barbed) current-events laugh than a direct rebuke of fascism, a remnant of Brien’s dutiful-late-night-monologue days.Brody, returning to the stage for his work in The Brutalist and lacking Berry to clinch (though she did find him on the red carpet for a revenge smooch), rambled on about career pitfalls, the less glamorous side of acting, and … what was he on about, exactly? Nevertheless, he shushed the encroaching orchestra for an emotional crescendo that never quite arrived. Through this record-setting speech, literally the longest in Oscar history, Brody never seemed to land on anything in particular to say; he thanked his co-stars and his partner and his parents, like most people do, but on a more roundabout path. The closest he came to making a bigger-picture statement was a sort of mealy-mouthed pro-peace, pro-tolerance lip service that’s intentionally difficult to ascribe to any particular things happening in the real world (perhaps in keeping with the ambiguities of The Brutalist, the thorny but sometimes elusive movie he won for).That’s not to put the lack of politics at the Oscars purely on Brody – or even to say that politics at the Oscars make a bit of difference beyond burnishing their self-styled reputation as an important event, and perhaps confirming some rightwingers’ perception of Hollywood as a haven for condescending far-left elites. Of course, the political makeup of Hollywood is more complicated than that; for one thing, it’s collectively about as revolutionary as the most entrenched centrist Democrats. (In New York terms: more Schumer than AOC.) But this also means that anything to the left of “We love you, Dear President Trump” will be received in certain corners as leftist rhetoric anyway. In other words, there’s nothing anyone can say – including nothing itself – that will turn the event into the “apolitical” ideal rightwingers claim to long for. As such, it was a little bit strange to see this particular time, of all times, being treated like business as usual. No one famous had anything more specific than allusions to Trump and other sources of global discord, beyond Daryl Hannah saying briefly supportive words about Ukraine in the wake of their president’s disastrous encounter with Trump’s bulldozing?Admittedly, these gestures don’t necessarily affect much, if any, change. In the past, some of them have been downright clumsy or self-important. But movies are about image-making, and at a time when so much rightwing radicalism is being passed off as normal, there were plenty of opportunities to refute that narrative, rather than just referring vaguely to “divisive” times. Though there’s something charming about Sean Baker’s single-issue campaigning on behalf of the theatrical experience, certainly an appropriate topic to address at the Academy Awards, it’s also a bit mordantly funny that the director of Anora, one of the more provocative best picture winners in recent history, has so little appetite for controversy (regardless of his much-discussed-online Twitter habits). And for those addicted to bragging about their 65-inch TVs providing a better experience than a giant movie screen, “take your kids to the movies for real” could still read as controversial anyway.View image in fullscreenPerhaps appropriately, the most political moment of the night was in Moore’s old category, best documentary feature. The Academy awarded No Other Land, a film that sounds, on paper, like an act of healing: it was made by a collective of both Palestinians and Israelis, about the friendship between a Palestinian activist and a Jewish Israeli journalist. But the movie is also about the displacement of the Palestinian people by Israel, and its pro-Palestine point of view was considered radioactive enough that (despite months of acclaim and awards) it hasn’t yet secured official US distribution, instead booking its showings through its PR handlers. The Academy, not always known for their bold choices in this category, will most assuredly bring more eyes and ears to No Other Land, more so even than the platform the film-makers received as winners on the telecast.That’s ultimately the kind of Oscar politics that can make a difference; any movie fan should know that actions do often speak louder than words (or, specifically: movies are louder, and more memorable, than most acceptance speeches). Yet it’s still possible to take something chilling away from this year’s ceremony: “politicizing” the Oscars with a speech is known as something that typically has no greater consequence than, well, more complaints about politicizing the Oscars. Yet even with the risk far lower than, say, anyone who works for the government right now, most were too cowed, or maybe too exhausted, to bother speaking up. Actions speak louder, but the silence can still be pretty deafening. More

    • 238 Shares149 Views

      in US Politics

      Afflicted with liberal angst in the age of Trump? Take a leaf from Bridget Jones’s diary | Rafael Behr

      by

      When future generations study creative works that capture the unsettled spirit of our age, they might easily neglect Bridget Jones 4: Mad About the Boy. The movie isn’t about the historical inflection point that coincides with its release. It doesn’t feature Donald Trump, his vandalism of US democracy or his dissolution of the transatlantic alliance. Such things are not the stuff of romantic comedy. Also, they hadn’t yet happened in 2013, when Helen Fielding wrote the book on which the film is based.But the lack of intentional allegory doesn’t prevent us projecting one on to the story. Or maybe it was just me, experiencing a sentimental hallucination induced by events outside the cinema. Indulge me a moment (and forgive any plot spoilers), as I explain.The first three volumes of the Jones diaries are picaresque chronicles of professional and sexual misadventure that resolve themselves in the reassuring arms of Mark Darcy, a human rights barrister: stolid, emotionally reticent, honourable and kind. That on-and-off romance sweeps Bridget from twentysomething anxiety to thirtysomething neurosis; from post-adolescent insecurity to early midlife crisis, unplanned pregnancy and, in the happy ending, marriage.Allowing for some chronological elasticity (with lags between books being written and adapted for cinema), Jones’s relationship with Darcy unfolds against a political and economic backdrop that hindsight reveals to be exceptionally benign. It is that period sometimes called the Great Moderation: roughly from the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 to the global financial crisis in 2007-09.Democracy sprawled eastwards across Europe. Captive peoples were liberated from communist dictatorship. The dissolution of the Soviet threat generated a “peace dividend” for western governments, permitting a diversion of budget resources from defence to social spending.There was a viable Middle East peace process. In 1993, Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat shook hands over the Oslo accords on the White House lawn. Apartheid was dismantled in South Africa, which held its first free, multiracial elections in 1994. The Good Friday agreement brought peace to Northern Ireland in 1998. The UK was then well into an economic boom that had another nine years still to run.View image in fullscreenLondon was basking in its status as capital of “Cool Britannia” – a powerhouse of art, music and self-congratulation. This was the context in which Bridget Jones’s diary first appeared as a weekly newspaper column in 1995. Her avid readership was the same generation that hit their young adult stride in that bright springtime of liberal metropolitan complacency.Jones was not very political, which made her an eloquent exponent of the zeitgeist. “It is perfectly obvious that Labour stands for sharing, kindness, gays, single mothers and Nelson Mandela,” she wrote on the eve of Tony Blair’s 1997 landslide election victory. The Tories were “braying bossy men having affairs with everyone shag shag shag left right and centre and going to the Ritz in Paris then telling all the presenters off on the Today programme.”We know also from a one-off column published in 2019 that Jones was a remainer in the Brexit culture wars. To break the legislative deadlock in parliament, she proposed that Queen Elizabeth, David Attenborough and Joanna Lumley join forces, urging the nation to reconsider the referendum question.It makes perfect sense that the love of Bridget’s life should be a distinguished lawyer who battles global injustice. It was a match made in the late 20th century, when human rights were a byword for all that was virtuous in western democracy. A career dedicated to their defence was the obvious device for a comic novelist wanting to signal intimidating levels of moral uprightness in a character. (It is often said that Darcy was modelled on a younger Keir Starmer. Fielding acknowledges uncanny likenesses in profession and manner, while insisting they are coincidental.)In the opening minutes of Mad About the Boy, we learn that Darcy is dead. He was killed in the line of duty, of course, on a humanitarian mission overseas. His widow is struggling to restart her life and raise two children alone.If, like me, you succumb easily to cinematic schmaltz, this is already an affecting scenario. What I found unexpectedly poignant was the thought that Darcy’s untimely death also functions as a metaphor for the demise of political certainties that defined the world in which Bridget Jones’s generation came of age. Her heartbreak is a parable of political bereavement, describing liberal angst at the sudden unravelling of institutional and legal norms underpinning European security. (Plus sex and jokes.)In the week that the movie was released, the US president reached over the heads of his country’s former Nato allies to embrace Vladimir Putin. He sketched the outline of a deal to end the war in Ukraine that was part territorial capitulation to the aggressor, part gangster extortion – offering Kyiv protection in exchange for mineral wealth. Vice-president JD Vance gave an ominously unhinged speech at the Munich security conference. He claimed that freedom is more imperilled by imaginary culture-war spectres haunting European democracies than it is by a Russian dictator whose tanks are churning up the sovereignty of a neighbouring state.In case of any lingering doubt that the Trump regime has authoritarian ambitions, the president also asserted on social media last week that “he who saves his country does not violate any law”. It is a signal that judges, courts and constitution should all be subordinate to a leader whose personal preference is synonymous with the national interest. Coming from the man who fomented insurrection to overturn the 2020 election, Trump’s aphorism should be read as a hint that the spirit of Maga patriotism is vested in thugs and militias, not statutes.This was the advertised programme. None of it should surprise the US’s allies. But it was easier to hope there might be momentum in the old order than to work out how to live in the new one. Now European leaders are scrambling to convene summits, scraping the sides of their depleted defence budgets, flexing atrophied military muscle in panicky gestures of continental solidarity.There is no going back to Darcy’s world. The idea that human rights are universal and the principle that no one is above the law are losing ground to older axioms – big nations extract tribute from smaller ones; a strongman ruler makes the rules.Pained by these existential challenges, it is hard not to reach for the anaesthetic balm of nostalgia, mythologising the late 90s and early 21st century as a golden age of liberal democratic primacy. In reality, that was a cosy bubble around one generation in one corner of the world: a historical fluke. To move on, we have to get through denial, anger and the other stages of grief to acceptance. We need to recognise that we live for the foreseeable future in a world without a friend in the White House, and that this points to a destiny for Britain much closer to Europe.And we need politicians who will dare to say as much aloud. This, too, is something that occurred to me as I left the cinema last weekend. Maybe if we had leaders capable of expressing the magnitude of the crisis, and rising to the challenge, I wouldn’t have to look for messages of solace between the lines of Bridget Jones’s diary.

      Rafael Behr is a Guardian columnist More

    • 138 Shares179 Views

      in US Politics

      Lessons for Elon Musk from the original Doge | Brief letters

      by

      As Elon Musk’s unelected “Doge” troops slash and burn US federal departments (Elon Musk appears with Trump and tries to claim ‘Doge’ team is transparent, 12 February), it is ironic to note that the Doges of ancient Venice were always elected, and by a process that was designed to avoid wealthy families taking too much power.John JacobsAlton, Hampshire I agree with your correspondents about the difficulty of hearing the lyrics in musicals (Letters, 13 February), but there’s little mention of the problem in cinemas, where conversations are drowned out by background music. In the recent film about Bob Dylan, Timothée Chalamet perfectly captured the musician’s mumble. What words he actually said remain A Complete Unknown.Joanna RimmerNewcastle upon Tyne Re the letters on analogue photography (14 February), there is a good compromise. I use a digital camera, which means I can go “snap happy”. Then I can look at all the images, select what I want and get them printed.Peter ButlerRushden, Northamptonshire I’m not entirely convinced that the Guardian style guide does a lot for women’s rights in advising that actresses should always be called actors (Editorial, 14 February). Why not the other way around?John OwensStockport, Greater Manchester My school report read: “Angela has influence, unfortunately in the wrong direction.” I became a probation officer (Letters, 16 February).Angela GlendenningNewcastle-under-Lyme, Staffordshire More

    • 150 Shares199 Views

      in US Politics

      ‘Another woke disaster from Hollywood!’ How Captain America joined the culture wars

      by

      Of all the times to recast the most iconically American comic-book character with a Black actor and then pit him against a violently angry supervillain with an unnaturally reddish skin tone, who also happens to be the new US president … Sorry if that’s a spoiler, but it is in the trailer for the new Captain America: Brave New World, just released into a tumultuous Trump-run America that’s itching for another culture war.If Marvel was looking for some attention to reignite its beleaguered movie franchise, it seems to have found it – but not necessarily the good kind. If nothing else, the image of a raging red superbeing rising up from behind the presidential podium and then trashing the White House is sure to provoke a reaction. As Anthony Mackie’s Sam Wilson takes up the star-spangled shield passed on to him by Chris Evans’ Steve Rogers, his casting has already incensed a certain bracket of social media: “The new Captain America! DEI hire!”; “Sounds like another woke disaster from Hollywood”; “Boy, did you not get the memo? America just voted for Trump – your film is dead on arrival.” It’s a wonder Trump hasn’t signed an executive order banning the film yet.Mackie gave his adversaries even more ammunition a couple of weeks ago when he told the Italian press: “To me Captain America represents a lot of different things and I don’t think the term ‘America’ should be one of those representations.” Again, you can imagine the reactions – even if, as fans pointed out, Mackie’s predecessor in the role, Chris Evans, made very similar comments when he was promoting Captain America: “I’m not trying to get too lost in the American side of it. This isn’t a flag-waving movie,” Evans said in 2011. Mackie had to walk back his comments the next day on Instagram: “Let me be clear about this: I’m a proud American and taking on the shield of a hero like Cap is the honour of a lifetime.”These are not the only battles the new Captain America finds itself caught up in. Attention has also focused on Ruth Bat-Seraph, aka Sabra, a minor character in the movie played by Israeli actor Shira Haas. In the original comics, Sabra was “the first Israeli superhero”; a mutant with superpowers who was formerly a Mossad agent. She’s had a bit of a makeover for the movie: no longer a mutant or a Mossad agent but very much a combat-ready operative. In a joint letter, some Palestinian cultural groups complained: “By reviving this racist character in any form, Marvel is promoting Israel’s brutal oppression of Palestinians.” They have called for a boycott of the movie, and pro-Palestinian protesters picketed the Hollywood premiere this Tuesday, holding up signs saying things such as “Disney supports genocide” – again, necessarily not the good kind of attention.View image in fullscreenAs if that weren’t enough, Brave New World has been plagued by reports of rewrites and reshoots, as well as recastings. William Hurt, who was set to play the US president, Thaddeus Ross, died in 2022 and had to be replaced by Harrison Ford. It was originally slated for release in May 2024. According to one insider, late last year it had gone through three rounds of test screenings and was still getting negative feedback. The film-makers have denied this, although director Julius Onah acknowledged: “Every movie of this scale has additional photography baked into the creative process. There are things you’re going to refine and the story is going to evolve.”Without those delays, the movie might well have come out in the late Biden era, rather than the febrile first few weeks of Trump 2.0. At least they changed the title – the original, Captain America: New World Order might have been too much for the conspiracy theorists to handle.It was somehow inevitable that all this would befall Captain America, rather than any other superhero. He’s always been the moral conscience of the Marvel universe, and by extension, the nation. The character was created by Jewish writers Jack Kirby and Joe Simon in 1940, primarily as a wartime propaganda tool – the US actually entered the war a year later, so perhaps it worked. The cover of issue #1, showing Captain America socking Adolf Hitler on the jaw, told you exactly where his loyalties lay. Now, 85 years later, we find him socking the fictional US president in the jaw instead. And this at a time when the real-life president is happily dining with white supremacists and Nazi sympathisers such as Nick Fuentes and Kanye West (whose recent X post declaring “I’m a Nazi” ought to clear up any ambiguity). Not to mention Trump’s ubiquitous righthand troll Elon Musk, who has done nothing at all to correct impressions that he gave a Nazi salute at Trump’s inauguration a few weeks ago. It leaves you wondering who the real good guys are.View image in fullscreenTime and again, it’s been down to Captain America to figure that out. While other Marvel movies have gadded about in weightless fantasy realms (Thor, Guardians of the Galaxy, Deadpool), the Captain America movies have often reflected off-screen political reality – and despite his ludicrously patriotic get-up (often worn by Trump supporters, or Photoshopped on to Trump himself), Cap has never been afraid to turn against his own government.It’s worth recapping the saga so far. Origin movie Captain America: The First Avenger, released in 2011, explained how weedy army recruit Steve Rogers (Evans) was given an experimental superhero-creating serum in the 1940s, and riffed on his deployment as a wartime propaganda mascot. Things got interesting with 2014’s The Winter Soldier, in which Rogers is thawed out in the present day and finds the US about to instate a global surveillance regime that would predict and preemptively eliminate threats. This was the era of the Edward Snowden leaks, so the paranoid conspiracy element was not too difficult to swallow. But good old Cap wasn’t having it: “This isn’t freedom – it’s fear,” he said, stepping away from his quasi-military role. He was right: it later transpired that the US government had been infiltrated by the neo-Nazi organisation Hydra – again, a concept that’s no longer too difficult to swallow.And by his side in his fight to de-Nazify the government was Mackie’s character, Sam Wilson, aka Falcon, a modern-day Iraq war veteran who befriended Rogers. In 2016’s Captain America: Civil War, Rogers and Wilson again fell out with the authorities, refusing to agree to UN oversight of “enhanced individuals” – those with superpowers. They trusted their own judgment above that of the politicians.View image in fullscreen2019’s all-conquering Avengers: Endgame culminated with Evans’ Captain America retiring, and passing on his shield to Mackie’s Falcon. After that the saga headed into race politics and Black history – possibly blown in that direction by the cultural winds post-Black Lives Matter. In his small-screen spin-off Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Falcon hands the shield back to the government – “It feels like it belongs to someone else,” he says. Not only does he deem himself unworthy, his patriotism to a country that enslaved and discriminated against his forebears is understandably conflicted. Another Black character tells him: “They will never let a Black man be Captain America, and even if they did, no self-respecting Black man would ever want to be.” Sure enough, a new, white Captain America is anointed: John Walker, played by Wyatt Russell. But to cut a long story short, it turns out he’s unworthy, and Wilson ultimately winds up with the shield again.Politics were very much in the minds of the Russo brothers, who jointly directed Winter Soldier, Civil War, Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. “Those movies are very much about what went on in this country over the past four years,” Joe Russo told me in 2021. “Some of the worst people were being attracted to politics and were representing us collectively … We believed strongly that the reach in those movies was so significant that they could be influential in helping people potentially make better decisions. We thought that they were a really powerful tool, at exactly the right time.”Brave New World should at least satisfy fans who wanted a political action thriller along the lines of Winter Soldier, with no space people turning up from parallel universes. Mackie’s fledgling Cap initially agrees to work with Ford’s new president, but before long, he’s disobeying orders and going rogue once again to investigate a conspiracy. Despite the raging Hulk “reveal”, and the president surviving an assassination attempt, Ford’s character is not all that Trump-like: he cares about international cooperation, he has a Black female head of security, and he even gets on an exercise bike on Air Force One. Depending on how you see it, this is either a bullet dodged or a punch pulled. This president does, however, outsource tech and military innovation to a shifty, unbiddable genius scientist who’s described as “his own personal thinktank” – remind you of anyone?There’s no telling how any of this will play in today’s movie landscape. Marvel movies have been at the vanguard of Hollywood representation in recent years but this has not translated into box-office success lately. Recent movie outings such as The Eternals and The Marvels – neither of which were directed by or centred on white men – were met with opposition by some fans (especially the vehement “Everything is woke” brigade), but also by some critics (for not being very good). Meanwhile, Marvel’s franchise-milking small-screen offshoots (Loki, Wandavision, Ms Marvel, She-Hulk, etc) and confusing “multiverse” storylines have turned off even more viewers. It’s telling that Marvel’s only recent box-office success was the more flip and irreverent Deadpool & Wolverine (led by two white guys).View image in fullscreenSo perhaps the message is: nobody’s in the mood for superheroes getting too real and political any more, and the era of applauding movies for representation has been killed by Trump’s anti-DEI edicts. Marvel seems to be hedging its bets: next up, in April, is Thunderbolts – the first outing for a new bunch of (overwhelmingly white) superhero misfits, including Florence Pugh and Wyatt Russell’s John Walker.But ultimately, Mackie was right when he said Captain America was not really about “America”. Unlike the cosplaying Trump supporters, he’s more loyal to American values than to the flag, and over his long history, he’s often had to remind the nation what those values are. In one comic-book story (What If … #44), 1940s Captain America wakes up in 1984, where he finds a fascist “America first” president who is persecuting minorities and promising to make America great again. Cap lays it down in no uncertain terms: “Without its ideals – its commitment to the freedom of all men, America is a piece of trash! I fought Adolf Hitler not because America was great, but because it was fragile! I knew that liberty could as easily be snuffed out here as in Nazi Germany!” Maybe they can use that storyline for the next movie, if there is one. More