Because You Never Asked

(5/06)

     Unlike the vast majority of the herd living on the other side of my front door who make cinema a regular element in their lives, my zeal for the motion picture has dried to the point where it can barely be called a trickle. I’ve been chastised for this abstention by people whose minds function in a way I can only admire and respect; intellectually impressive people who assure me of the existence of worthwhile films in abundance, you have to know where to look, etc. and hidy ho. I have the utmost faith in their opinions, but my evolution away from the cinema habit goes beyond the generally vapid nature of those films most present for mass consumption, and into the realm of simple physical distaste for the experience. Do I have to apologize for not liking to sit in one place for almost 3 hours in a huge, hermetically sealed, inky dark room, whose front wall  is filled with a nuclear blast of light and color, all accompanied by a sound track whose volume could knock over a sumo wrestler?

     If so, I apologize.

     As explained in previous essays, this was not always so. At one time I was an ardent “cinophile”, there hardly being a week lacking my attendance at movie theaters scattered throughout the landscape of my existence. Even now, in spite of my general lack of interest, the motion picture is such an integral part of modern life, the ability to completely ignore it is almost impossible --- even for me.

     You don’t like football? Try ignoring the Super Bowl.

     It might not be an exaggeration to say that one of the most renowned movies in the history of the art form carries the name “Forrest Gump”. It has been universally accepted as a movie classic, a masterpiece, a legendary icon of cinema brilliance. It hogged almost all the industry buzz the year of its release, won all the awards, this Globe, that Oscar, “I’d like to thank …”, yeah, yeah. If it were a baseball player, it would be a definite Hall of Famer.

     Having never seen this film, when the opportunity recently presented itself on TV, I plopped myself down in front of it.

     The erosion of my sympathy for Forrest Gump was far from immediate. It is a skillfully done film that entices the viewer with a combination of beauty, excellent story telling and stellar performances by a talented cast. But as the epic tale grinded through its torturous course, it slowly became evident to me that its supposedly neutral, objective look at an era, was an elaborately disguised vehicle for a very conservative (maybe even reactionary) message.

     Before getting on to that, there are some more nibbling appetizers to start with.

     When it comes to works of artistic creation, a strict adherence to reality is not an essential element of consummation. Depending on how a work is presented, varying degrees of “poetic license” can not only be the proper course to take, but what makes it successful. Being that we are talking about cinema here, I’ll give 2 such examples from 2 of my favorite films: neither the somewhat demented, mega-hawkish General played by George C. Scott in Dr. Strangelove, nor the emotionally collapsed, paranoid, neurotic police detective played by Alan Arkin in Little Murders, are realistically believable characters. But they are perfect for the satirical black humor of the movies they appear in.

     The movie Forrest Gump does not present itself in such a fashion. It is meant to be a fairly faithful representation of a real era in history, an era we are all familiar with. The things that happen are supposedly tied to a reality we should believe. I begin to lose respect for such a film when its most important character becomes an All American football star without ever having played a down of football in his life. Likewise, his later ascension to the top of the table tennis world is even more absurd. How am I supposed to take this film seriously?

     But the main course of my critical disdain for Forrest Gump is its intellectual message. My guess is that most Forrest Gump fans never even thought it had a socio-political message. In fact, it seemed to be painfully trying to not take sides. But a more sensitive investigation of its content reveals something quite different.

     My first pangs of uneasiness began to stir during the Vietnam war footage. Obviously, Forrest Gump did not try to justify the war or portray it as something positive, but it maintained a kind of neutrality that differed from the generally negative attitude of the few serious films dealing with this unfortunate interlude in American history. It treated the war as if it were just something that happened.

     OK. I can accept that. This horse has been beaten enough.

     But then it proceeded to show its true colors. In trying to bob and weave it’s way through the minefields of blame, the film Forrest Gump has nary a judgmental attitude towards anything. The only exception to this is how it portrayed the anti-war, counter culture of long haired, unkempt young people --- hippies and such --- who played a fundamental role in blowing the whistle on the fiasco in S.E. Asia.

     In watching this film, I had a dim feeling that the author may have tried to temper his distaste for this counter-culture that challenged the idyllic image of America’s purity, but his true feelings could not be contained. The anti-war demonstrators wore the black hat in this movie. They were portrayed as reckless, insincere, as spoiled brats and hypocrites, as something ominous and dangerous.

     The primary vehicle used to promote this unsavory view was the woman who became Forrest Gump’s only love interest throughout his life, beginning in childhood. Being that Gump was never emotionally mature enough to consummate a true romantic relationship (though it didn’t stop him from being a soldier), she is eventually forced to find her love life away from him. This leads her into the clutches of hippy culture; a reckless, irresponsible fling with drugs, sex and self flagellation. The only person with a truly villainous role in this film is her boy friend, dressed ominously in black like a hippy version of an outlaw from a spaghetti western. As the years go by, her life begins to fall apart in an uncontrollable free fall of deprivation, until she almost jumps off a building in despair.

     I think we can safely assume the author feels she made the wrong life choice.

     Meanwhile, her mentally retarded friend has doodled along with nary a sophisticated thought in his sub-standard brain and blundered into being a millionaire shrimper. He’s been a good boy. He’s being rewarded for it.

     Forrest Gump turns out to be a film that apologizes for the unsavory aspects of America’s imperial personality, demonizes those who dare to question it, and makes a hero of a mentally sub-normal person who questions nothing and does exactly as he’s told. This movie, in contrast to the agitation of the 60’s and 70’s and the uncertainty of the 80’s, is telling America that everything is OK, that what we do and believe is good and righteous. Just carry on and be good boys and girls.

     When a motion picture is so positively regaled and universally distributed as Forrest Gump, it can have some form of socio-political influence. Where have we gone since its release?

     We’ve elected a president who could easily be described as the Forrest Gump version of presidents. His government has had the arrogance to involve the nation in yet  another third world war that is bleeding the country dry in a hapless effort that cannot succeed. Who will make the next “great film” that apologizes for this?

     Perhaps it is not just a coincidence that Forrest Gump is a southern film. The tip in the balance of power that delivered the United States to the neo-cons occurred here. It was accomplished by pandering to the most provincial elements of this “Bible Belt”, what I’d call Forrest Gump people.