True story: last week, the wifey and I screened a very, very, very good documentary series on Netflix exploring Hitler and the nature of evil in the world.
You see, we both grew up in an era wherein society believed it was still advantageous to civilization at large to continue teaching about World War II and the growth of Nazism. While history is certainly filled with various portraits of the vile nature of men, I think it's pretty well set in stone that there has never been such an egregious attempt to change life itself in the way that Hitler and his willing conspirators did. Getting educated on such vicious campaigns as well as some of the lingering effects that nation's attempt at genocide certainly makes one think about the pursuits of men a bit different; and I think it's a shame that not even a century later it would appear that the American education system has failed to instill that fear that "it could happen again" in the young'uns who've passed through their doors for some time now. Why, it's almost like Nazism never really went away ... it just repackaged itself under more crowd-friendly clothing.
The documentary series largely uses the trials of Nuremberg as a framing structure to tell the broader story; and -- since it had been some time since we'd seen 1961's Judgment At Nuremberg we opted to give that a view on Saturday night.
Wow.
Though I'm not opposed to talking a bit about politics on the blog (I realize that a great many entertainment stops do avoid such discussion), I don't like to belabor some points. Yes, there's enough of that stuff available for those who choose to consume it, and I think that's great. The chief problem with combining entertainment with politics is that -- well, you know this, too -- politics tends to be divisive while entertainment is arguably meant to serve fully as a distraction from such dire, dire subjects. Mind you: this isn't always the case as actors, actresses, and directors has always been willing to push their pet agendas at damn near every opportunity, but I hope you get my main point. These platforms could be two separate venues, but we see them crossing over these days more often than not.
As a consequence, it's grown harder and harder and harder to avoid talking about politics, especially those ideas linked directly to ideological expression. Clearly, Leslye Headland -- Harvey Weinstein's former personal assistant -- is using her "creation" -- Star Wars: The Acolyte -- to push gender ideas -- she's even said as much in interviews. Russell T. Davies is presently at work transitioning the once epic Doctor Who franchise into a live-action cartoon meant to get children talking about homosexuality and the like. Kevin Smith took the once legendary He-Man property, sucked its masculinity dry, and rebuilt it into something that, frankly, no one watched. And, yes, the list goes on and on and on.
At every turn, Hollywood and creatives around the world inject these social constructs into places they hadn't existed -- or let's agree that they existed with lesser prominent focus, at least -- and it's killing ratings, commerce, and the general Return On Investment (R.O.I.). Those enterprises that used to be the source of so much joy have now become slow-moving tanks crushing the hopes and dreams of fandom in their bid to reshape mankind into something that, well, maybe it ought not be. This isn't a judgment, folks: it's an observation. If you can't tell the difference, then perhaps you shouldn't be even in this space.
But ... I digress ...
You see, we both grew up in an era wherein society believed it was still advantageous to civilization at large to continue teaching about World War II and the growth of Nazism. While history is certainly filled with various portraits of the vile nature of men, I think it's pretty well set in stone that there has never been such an egregious attempt to change life itself in the way that Hitler and his willing conspirators did. Getting educated on such vicious campaigns as well as some of the lingering effects that nation's attempt at genocide certainly makes one think about the pursuits of men a bit different; and I think it's a shame that not even a century later it would appear that the American education system has failed to instill that fear that "it could happen again" in the young'uns who've passed through their doors for some time now. Why, it's almost like Nazism never really went away ... it just repackaged itself under more crowd-friendly clothing.
The documentary series largely uses the trials of Nuremberg as a framing structure to tell the broader story; and -- since it had been some time since we'd seen 1961's Judgment At Nuremberg we opted to give that a view on Saturday night.
Wow.
Though I'm not opposed to talking a bit about politics on the blog (I realize that a great many entertainment stops do avoid such discussion), I don't like to belabor some points. Yes, there's enough of that stuff available for those who choose to consume it, and I think that's great. The chief problem with combining entertainment with politics is that -- well, you know this, too -- politics tends to be divisive while entertainment is arguably meant to serve fully as a distraction from such dire, dire subjects. Mind you: this isn't always the case as actors, actresses, and directors has always been willing to push their pet agendas at damn near every opportunity, but I hope you get my main point. These platforms could be two separate venues, but we see them crossing over these days more often than not.
As a consequence, it's grown harder and harder and harder to avoid talking about politics, especially those ideas linked directly to ideological expression. Clearly, Leslye Headland -- Harvey Weinstein's former personal assistant -- is using her "creation" -- Star Wars: The Acolyte -- to push gender ideas -- she's even said as much in interviews. Russell T. Davies is presently at work transitioning the once epic Doctor Who franchise into a live-action cartoon meant to get children talking about homosexuality and the like. Kevin Smith took the once legendary He-Man property, sucked its masculinity dry, and rebuilt it into something that, frankly, no one watched. And, yes, the list goes on and on and on.
At every turn, Hollywood and creatives around the world inject these social constructs into places they hadn't existed -- or let's agree that they existed with lesser prominent focus, at least -- and it's killing ratings, commerce, and the general Return On Investment (R.O.I.). Those enterprises that used to be the source of so much joy have now become slow-moving tanks crushing the hopes and dreams of fandom in their bid to reshape mankind into something that, well, maybe it ought not be. This isn't a judgment, folks: it's an observation. If you can't tell the difference, then perhaps you shouldn't be even in this space.
But ... I digress ...
For those of you who haven't seen Judgment At Nuremberg (shame on you, for starters), let me clarify: the film isn't about the big trial. In fact, the Nuremberg trials were a conglomeration of several trials as this international tribunal had to hear evidence spread across the many several layers of the Nazi government that had engaged in efforts to commit genocide. While, yes, the big movers and shakers were tried and given sentences, there were also a great number of faces and names who weren't given great coverage in history also brought before judges, evidence of their crimes delivered, and sentenced across a variety of punishments. It's this area in which the film focuses, and I think this sets up why it's such an important picture to watch.
Without recapping the whole affair, let me give you the highlight I think most relevent.
Dr. Ernst Janning (played by Hollywood legend Burt Lancaster) was in charge of the German judiciary, that part of the governing body that was chiefly responsible for the 'legal' prosecution of the Jews brought before the court for any number of infractions. Because it was his responsibility to see the laws of his land successfully executed, he did his assigned duty and sent a great number of the accused to the very camps wherein their lives were lost. Granted, if Janning had ignored the dictates passed down often by Hitler himself, another 'stooge' would have been put in place to rubberstamp the ongoing persecution efforts; but Janning -- a renowned legal scholar -- stayed at his post, effectively passing sentences that helped der Fuhrer on his various campaigns of intimidation.
Judgment At Nuremberg -- the film -- takes place roughly two years into the Nuremberg trials, a time which a great many of the German people have grown weary with watching over and over again their former leaders being dragged into the public spotlight, forcing them to relive what their nation did throughout one of the darkest times in world history. As they've come so disillusioned with watching these proceedings, they're grown bitter about always being portrayed as 'the villains,' and Janning's story comes at a point wherein they are now expecting a bit of ... erm ... leniency to occur. After all, why should the good men and women who were just following the orders of a dictator continue to suffer? At some point, blame should go away; otherwise, how can an entire people get on with the business of healing?
It's this sentiment -- the fatigue of hearing about one atrocity after another -- that feeds the film's emotional core. Chief Judge Dan Haywood (played by Spencer Tracy) -- just one of the men who finds himself having to sit in judgment over these men -- is conflicted, but -- given the severity of the evidence -- how can he simply bend to the will of the German people and look the other way? Clearly, wrong were committed -- and, yes, we're talking about some incredibly vile and unspeakable acts -- and someone needs to be punished ... but how far is too far? How long is too long? When can we -- as a culture -- finally call and end to shining a spotlight on villainy and try to return to the business of just living life?
Without recapping the whole affair, let me give you the highlight I think most relevent.
Dr. Ernst Janning (played by Hollywood legend Burt Lancaster) was in charge of the German judiciary, that part of the governing body that was chiefly responsible for the 'legal' prosecution of the Jews brought before the court for any number of infractions. Because it was his responsibility to see the laws of his land successfully executed, he did his assigned duty and sent a great number of the accused to the very camps wherein their lives were lost. Granted, if Janning had ignored the dictates passed down often by Hitler himself, another 'stooge' would have been put in place to rubberstamp the ongoing persecution efforts; but Janning -- a renowned legal scholar -- stayed at his post, effectively passing sentences that helped der Fuhrer on his various campaigns of intimidation.
Judgment At Nuremberg -- the film -- takes place roughly two years into the Nuremberg trials, a time which a great many of the German people have grown weary with watching over and over again their former leaders being dragged into the public spotlight, forcing them to relive what their nation did throughout one of the darkest times in world history. As they've come so disillusioned with watching these proceedings, they're grown bitter about always being portrayed as 'the villains,' and Janning's story comes at a point wherein they are now expecting a bit of ... erm ... leniency to occur. After all, why should the good men and women who were just following the orders of a dictator continue to suffer? At some point, blame should go away; otherwise, how can an entire people get on with the business of healing?
It's this sentiment -- the fatigue of hearing about one atrocity after another -- that feeds the film's emotional core. Chief Judge Dan Haywood (played by Spencer Tracy) -- just one of the men who finds himself having to sit in judgment over these men -- is conflicted, but -- given the severity of the evidence -- how can he simply bend to the will of the German people and look the other way? Clearly, wrong were committed -- and, yes, we're talking about some incredibly vile and unspeakable acts -- and someone needs to be punished ... but how far is too far? How long is too long? When can we -- as a culture -- finally call and end to shining a spotlight on villainy and try to return to the business of just living life?
Though I could be wrong, I believe that none of us are brought up to hate. None of us are imbued with a sense of destruction. We might hold grudges, and we might find it difficult to say we're sorry from time-to-time; and this is -- largely -- because we're human. We don't wish to traffic into the darkness so willingly, so prevalently; and we understand that there is grace and peace in putting the past behind us. Let bygones be bygones. Find a way to push through the murk and the mire, and, instead, find our way to greener pastures where everyone can get along, where everyone has a home, and things are generally good.
Sadly, Progressives don't see life the same way ... or, at least, that's been my experience.
While we seek to forgive, they seek to glorify both their choices and their way of life. They see the world from a different perspective -- one that needs to be remade in an entirely different image -- and they'll stop at nothing to see that utopia delivered by hook or by crook. If that means toppling each and every social more they encounter on the way, then so be it. If that means injecting a measure of social justice into each and every intellectual property, then that's what they must do. If that means killing the Golden Goose so that an ideological enemy can no longer have something that's good and green, then so be it. Why should their enemies have successes if they cannot? Isn't -- ahem -- life supposed to be equal? Isn't it supposed to be fair? Isn't it supposed to be worth living? If so, then they deserve what we have, and they'll take it if that's the only way they can have it for their very own.
And ... because we're human and forgiveness is in our very nature ... we surrender.
This is why fandom fails.
True fans don't traffic in hate. True fans don't traffic in oppression. True fans don't traffic in controversy. Oh, sure, we might get into the various kerfuffles about whether or not Kirk was the better captain than Picard. Yeah, we could argue about which costume Wolverine looked best in. And, of course, we could spend hours in reasonably tense debate about whether or not Han shot first. Those types of things are fun. They bring us joy. They bring us happiness. They don't divide us so much as they grow our skills at thinking and communicating, and they're meant to be an expression of how deeply our various entertaining distractions have been engrained into our very being. Yeah, maybe they're trivial, but they're also fun. It's these events that make us fans, and we seek out and explore them at every opportunity.
Still, what we don't do very well is simply say, "No more."
Sadly, Progressives don't see life the same way ... or, at least, that's been my experience.
While we seek to forgive, they seek to glorify both their choices and their way of life. They see the world from a different perspective -- one that needs to be remade in an entirely different image -- and they'll stop at nothing to see that utopia delivered by hook or by crook. If that means toppling each and every social more they encounter on the way, then so be it. If that means injecting a measure of social justice into each and every intellectual property, then that's what they must do. If that means killing the Golden Goose so that an ideological enemy can no longer have something that's good and green, then so be it. Why should their enemies have successes if they cannot? Isn't -- ahem -- life supposed to be equal? Isn't it supposed to be fair? Isn't it supposed to be worth living? If so, then they deserve what we have, and they'll take it if that's the only way they can have it for their very own.
And ... because we're human and forgiveness is in our very nature ... we surrender.
This is why fandom fails.
True fans don't traffic in hate. True fans don't traffic in oppression. True fans don't traffic in controversy. Oh, sure, we might get into the various kerfuffles about whether or not Kirk was the better captain than Picard. Yeah, we could argue about which costume Wolverine looked best in. And, of course, we could spend hours in reasonably tense debate about whether or not Han shot first. Those types of things are fun. They bring us joy. They bring us happiness. They don't divide us so much as they grow our skills at thinking and communicating, and they're meant to be an expression of how deeply our various entertaining distractions have been engrained into our very being. Yeah, maybe they're trivial, but they're also fun. It's these events that make us fans, and we seek out and explore them at every opportunity.
Still, what we don't do very well is simply say, "No more."
Our calls to action are usually reserved for those things that give us the most joy.
Far too often we're completely unwilling to separate ourselves from our favorite diversions because we live in constant fear that these glorious distractions might go away if we don't consume them. If we don't accept inferior Star Trek, then there may be no Star Trek at all. If we don't embrace bad Star Wars, then the studios will simply stop making it. If we don't tune in for the latest Marvel sh#tstorm, then the good and the bad will no longer find purchase; and we'll be returned to the dark days wherein we have to make our own entertainment. If we don't buy the comic books, then the comic books stores will shut down. Because we'd rather have something than nothing, we're unwilling to part with lesser efforts ... even if that means we've sacrificed the joy in tuning in and now do it out of a perceived necessity to keep something inferior alive.
Each of us -- at some time -- has been alone. Each of us -- at some time -- has been on that island. We know the pair and the fear and the despair that comes from isolation, and -- whether we're willing to admit it publicly or privately -- it isn't something that we relish. We long for association. We long for friendships. We long for shared interests. And we long for the ways we can express the appreciation for things that elevate us spiritually, emotionally, psychologically. This is exactly what being a fan is about; and -- as I've always sad -- it unites us in ways we can't even begin to see on more levels anyone could ever, ever, ever dream about.
And -- no, no, no -- I'm not calling for a boycott. I'm simply saying that boycotts aren't in our nature. Yes, one very well might be needed -- ratings suggest that Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Doctor Who are in trouble well enough without their being any collective effort -- but the conspiracist in me would simply say that the powers that be will just come up with another end run around fandom because they don't believe in our collective power in the first place.
My point is we should never forget. Forgive all you want, but don't forget. Don't forget what Russell T. Davies did. Don't forget what Alex Kurtzman did. Don't forget what Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni did. Don't forget what Kathleen Kennedy did. Don't forget what Leslye Headland did. Don't forget what Kevin Feige did. Don't forget what Bob Iger did. When you forget, you lose concept of history, and you're apt to lose 'the high ground' that Obi-Wan Kenobi showed us was requisite in the proper time and proper place.
It's only in retaining the high ground that you can properly cut off your ideological adversary at the knees ... thus keeping them from perpetrating evil again.
-- EZ
Far too often we're completely unwilling to separate ourselves from our favorite diversions because we live in constant fear that these glorious distractions might go away if we don't consume them. If we don't accept inferior Star Trek, then there may be no Star Trek at all. If we don't embrace bad Star Wars, then the studios will simply stop making it. If we don't tune in for the latest Marvel sh#tstorm, then the good and the bad will no longer find purchase; and we'll be returned to the dark days wherein we have to make our own entertainment. If we don't buy the comic books, then the comic books stores will shut down. Because we'd rather have something than nothing, we're unwilling to part with lesser efforts ... even if that means we've sacrificed the joy in tuning in and now do it out of a perceived necessity to keep something inferior alive.
Each of us -- at some time -- has been alone. Each of us -- at some time -- has been on that island. We know the pair and the fear and the despair that comes from isolation, and -- whether we're willing to admit it publicly or privately -- it isn't something that we relish. We long for association. We long for friendships. We long for shared interests. And we long for the ways we can express the appreciation for things that elevate us spiritually, emotionally, psychologically. This is exactly what being a fan is about; and -- as I've always sad -- it unites us in ways we can't even begin to see on more levels anyone could ever, ever, ever dream about.
And -- no, no, no -- I'm not calling for a boycott. I'm simply saying that boycotts aren't in our nature. Yes, one very well might be needed -- ratings suggest that Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Doctor Who are in trouble well enough without their being any collective effort -- but the conspiracist in me would simply say that the powers that be will just come up with another end run around fandom because they don't believe in our collective power in the first place.
My point is we should never forget. Forgive all you want, but don't forget. Don't forget what Russell T. Davies did. Don't forget what Alex Kurtzman did. Don't forget what Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni did. Don't forget what Kathleen Kennedy did. Don't forget what Leslye Headland did. Don't forget what Kevin Feige did. Don't forget what Bob Iger did. When you forget, you lose concept of history, and you're apt to lose 'the high ground' that Obi-Wan Kenobi showed us was requisite in the proper time and proper place.
It's only in retaining the high ground that you can properly cut off your ideological adversary at the knees ... thus keeping them from perpetrating evil again.
-- EZ
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