Businessman Leo Hindery and former US Senator Donald Riegle write a proposal for “The Jobs Solution” to our country’s current economic woes. Point 3 reads:
Concrete efforts to restore the essential tax-policy link between productivity growth and wage gains, which will almost surely mean adopting a value-added tax of the sort nearly every other developed country already has.
The Value Added Tax seems to be showing up everywhere these days; I’m starting to lean prettily heavily in favor of the idea of abolishing the corporate income tax and payroll taxes and replacing them with an American version of VAT.
Stuart Klawans reviews a movie that our own LeFalcon and VThunderlad seem to find infinitely fascinating, Watchmen. To be precise, the headline of his column lists Watchmen as one of the movies he will review, but what he actually does is open with a few paragraphs satirizing the disillusioned tough-guy prose style that apparently characterizes the Watchmen franchise, then tell a story about how he was shown the wrong movie at the critics’ preview. The high point of this story comes when he claims that he thought he was seeing one of the most discussed visuals from Watchmen, that is, the long blue penis of a character who is naked throughout the movie, only to realize that his eyes were playing tricks on him:
The movie starts. Immediately, I see the blue penis, and the special effects are staggering. It walks on its own. It speaks. I suddenly realize it is Clive Owen, clean-shaven for a change, striding up to inspect Julia Roberts’s cleavage at a garden party. This is not Watchmen. It is Duplicity.
George McCartney’s review of the movie The Reader begins with a description of a comedy sketch in which Kate Winslet said that making a movie about the Holocaust is a sure way to win an Oscar. That part starts at 3:13 in the clip below.
McCartney argues that the movie misses the moral point of Bernhard Schlink’s novel. Movie and novel both dramatize a sexual relationship in the late 1950s between Hanna, a former Nazi concentration camp guard, and Michael, at the time a 15 year old boy. The two see each other again years later, when Hanna and other war criminals are on trial and Michael is a law student observing the process. For McCartney, the key scene in the novel comes at this trial:
In the novel, Schlink’s point is that Hanna is being personally scapegoated for crimes that many others participated in, whether actively or passively. To prosecute her without admitting this is to perpetuate the nation’s guilt and ramify its bitter consequences. The novel fully dramatizes the wholly unwarranted self-righteousness of the other young German law students as they observe the trial. They take it as an occasion to despise the older generation, including their parents, for their complicity in the policies of the Third Reich. Michael would undoubtedly be with them but for his relationship with Hanna. As it is, he’s left with the impossible burden of coming to terms with her culpability in the midst of his lingering feelings for her.
Questioned at this trial about mass murders in which she participated, Hanna asks the judge in a state of true bewilderment, “What would you have done?”
Of course, with the moral clarity available after events, it’s all too obvious what she should have done. Schlink’s larger point is that it’s also obvious what the Germans should have done about their Nazi rulers. But as Hitler rose to power and the Nazis took command of state institutions, barraging the populace with ceaseless propoaganda complemented by a relentless program of civilian surveillance, what course was safely open to the ordinary individual? It’s easy, Schlink implies, for those who enjoy freedom today to say their elders should have resisted. Of course they should have. So should the Russians have resisted the rise of the Bolsheviks and Stalin’s police state. So should all Americans have denounced George W. Bush’s criminal policies. Schlink argues that these should haves are only helpful in the present if applied by those who realize that they themselves may not have had the moral heroism necessary to stand up to those in power.
The novel “does a fair job of examining” the “deformation of a soul” like Hanna’s, a deformation which made it possible for her to commit acts of immense violence while seeing herself only as a victim. The movie, by contrast, dwells on the actors’ physical nakedness, offering little insight into the psychological terrain in which the characters made their decisions. “We need to see more than the actors’ breasts, buttocks, and genitalia to understand them. We need principally to understand what happened to Hanna to make her the way she is. On screen, we never do.”
McCartney also objects to the fact that the sex scenes are played out between an 18 year old man playing a 15 year old boy and a 33 year old woman. “In a film that means to expose the ongoing effects of abuse, we’re edified by the spectacle of a boy actually being abused by his director and his costar. What else can we call what happens to David Kross in this movie?… [I]s 18 the age whhen, for professional reasons, a boy can disregard the sexual appeal of a nude 33 year old actress pressing against his naked body? Who’s kidding whom?”
Since that one guy stopped being US president – what was his name? You remember him, he had a Texas accent and a constant cocaine sniffle. Anyway, since he went away the Funny Times seems to have been devoting more space to old and possibly corny jokes.
These examples come from Planet Proctor. Here’s a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt:
I had a rose named after me and was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: ‘No good in a bed, but fine against a wall.’
This was presented as a true story:
A teacher designed a study testing the senses of first graders using a bowl of Lifesavers to identify flavors by color: red for cherry, yellow for lemon, green for lime, and orange for- orange. Finally the teacher gave them all HONEY Lifesavers, but after popping them into their eager little mouths, none of the children could identify the taste; so she said, “I’ll give you all a clue. This is what your mother may sometimes call your father.” One little girl looked up in horror, spit out her Lifesaver, and yelled “Oh my God! They’re assholes!”
Sean Scallon argues that Jimmy Carter’s 15 July 1979 address to the nation, known to political infamy as the “malaise speech,” showed an awareness of America’s limits that made it the most truly conservative public statement any president has made in recent decades. Nor does the speech deserve its reputation as a political disaster. Carter’s approval ratings went up after he delivered it, and only dropped when he engaged in the “political gimmick” of demanding that his whole cabinet resign. Carter didn’t really lose the public, the piece claims, until he responded to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan with an ultra-hawkish policy. His hard line contradicted all the wisdom and humility in the speech; coming on its heels, it seemed to spring from a fit of hysteria. The contradiction between Carter’s sober words of July and his sabre-rattling of a few weeks later left him intellectually defenseless when Ronald Reagan, a cheerful man unburdened by any public record suggesting cautious realism, presented the same hard line militarism as the centerpiece of his campaign to unseat Carter.
The man who responded to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan
Tony Kushner and Alisa Solomon reviewCaryl Churchill‘s new play, Tell Her the Truth, which tells the history of the Arab-Israeli conflict in ten minutes. “Why is the play so short? Probably because Churchill means to slap us out of our rehearsed arguments to look at the immediate human crisis.” Churchill cares about what human beings are doing to each other and how they justify what they have done to themselves and to each other, especially in the justifications parents give their children. Tell Her the Truth consists of a series of lines giving the parents of seven unseen Jewish children advice as to what they should tell those children about various historical acts of violence, some committed against Jews in the name of antisemitism, some committed by Jews in the name of Zionism.
Tell Her the Truth, like every publication critical of Israeli policy, has attracted charges of antisemitism; much of the case against it apparently hinges on a line that does not appear in the play. Some have claimed that the play raises the spectre of “blood libel,” the old idea that Jews ritually murder Gentile children. “Those who level the blood-libel accusation insist that Churchill has written “tell her I’m happy when I see their children covered in blood.”” What she actually wrote was quite different: “tell her I look at one of their children covered in blood and what do I feel? tell her all I feel is happy it’s not her.” Kushner and Solomon interpret the real line thusly: “The last line of the monologue is clearly a warning: you can’t protect your children by being indifferent to the children of others.”