Philip French: Behind the Candelabra

A brilliant performance by Michael Douglas illuminates an affectionate and funny portrait of the flamboyant entertainer

Behind The Candelabra

Michael Douglas as Liberace in Behind the Candelabra: ‘sheer brilliance’. Photograph: HBO/Everett Collection
http://youtu.be/4gxpYz4YBSI

Liberace was a fabulously rich, self-created midwesterner, the child of humble immigrant parents known for his extravagant lifestyle and vulgar tastes, as well as his worship of the American dream and the mystery in which he was wrapped. He was in effect a gay Jay Gatsby. His life was not, however, tragic, that is until his death of an Aids-related illness at 67, and he can be considered a success in that he achieved the acclaim and celebrity he had always dreamed of, and he died believing that he had taken the secret of his homosexuality to the grave.

  1. Behind the Candelabra
  2. Production year: 2013
  3. Country: USA
  4. Cert (UK): 15
  5. Runtime: 118 mins
  6. Directors: Steven Soderbergh
  7. Cast: Dan Aykroyd, Debbie Reynolds, Matt Damon, Michael Douglas, Rob Lowe, Scott Bakula
  8. More on this film

[pullquote] All the big Hollywood studios nixed the project, regarding it as too risky, “too gay,” until HBO embraced the production and made it into a modern, instant classic. The leads give stellar performances, and the rest of the cast is simply superb. The rave reviews are well deserved. [/pullquote]

Steven Soderbergh‘s cinebiography of Liberace, Behind the Candelabra, is (so he claims) his final movie, and it had to be made for America’s HBO network because no Hollywood studio would finance a film for the big screen that presented its subject’s private life with this degree of candour. This has resulted in the odd situation of the movie having its premiere in competition at the Cannes film festival followed by a theatrical release in Europe and its US premiere on television. It’s thus being reviewed in the States by TV critics and on this side of the Atlantic by film critics. Henceforth, it will appear in reference books in Europe, but not in the States, as the last addition to Soderbergh’s filmography.

The trademark candelabra on Liberace’s grand pianos were inspired by those in A Song to Remember, a popular, much-mocked 1940s movie starring Cornel Wilde as Chopin (with whom Liberace evidently identified as a fellow Polish pianist) and Merle Oberon as George Sand. At its centre, Behind the Candelabra is less a biopic than an intimate love story of the five-year relationship between two men, the world-famous star Lee Liberace and the unknown Scott Thorson. The film is based on Thorson’s published memoir, and inevitably assumes a position similar to that of the critical hero-worshipping Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby.

Soderbergh and his screenwriter, Richard LaGravenese, take us behind the candelabra in three clever moves. The naive young Scott (Matt Damon, excellent in a difficult role), an animal wrangler for TV commercials with ambitions to be a vet, is picked up in an LA gay bar in 1977 by a handsome, worldly man, a little older than him. After they become lovers, Scott is taken to Las Vegas to see the 58-year-old Liberace (Michael Douglas) appear before an ecstatic audience of middle-class women. The vulnerable, orphanage-reared Thorson is as dazzled by the act as are the women. And so are we. For us, it’s the sheer brilliance of Douglas’s performance. As the outrageous star, he prances around the stage, flashing smiles, cracking familiar jokes, playing a boogie-woogie number at double speed. His white, rhinestone-covered coat-tails catching the light are like night-time Vegas seen from the sky. On the spectrum of gay deportment, shall we say, he’s closer to the camp director in Mel Brooks’s The Producers than to the grave doctor played by Peter Finch in John Schlesinger’s Sunday Bloody Sunday.

A backstage introduction leads to an invitation to Liberace’s house to view the man’s possessions. We’re now getting further behind the candelabra, but still they are there all around. “I call this ‘palatial kitsch’,” he tells Scott proudly, like Gatsby showing his mansion to Daisy. The smile takes on different forms – professional, warm, chilly, menacing – and his extravagant camp demeanour is modulated and moderated, but always there, blazing like a fake fire in a movie hearth.

He takes up the young man’s offer to treat his ailing dog, and very soon they’re in a bubbling hot tub, and then in bed, the entertainer’s sexual prowess explained in those pre-Viagra days by expensive implants. The ultimate intimacy, however, comes when Liberace reveals himself to Thorson without the enormous wig that conceals his baldness.

There’s real love and affection here, but it’s jealously possessive in the manner of that between the elderly movie star and the two-bit writer in Sunset Boulevard. Thorson becomes part of the great charade of Liberace’s life by becoming his chauffeur. It’s a piece of extravagant theatre in which the whole of America, from its president to its suburban housewives, have agreed to take part. It’s Wilde’s love that dare not speak its name translated into a conspiratorial cross between the mafia’s omerta and the US military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell”.

All the people around Liberace become grotesques, from the bewildered Thorson, who attempts to understand him, to his mother (an unrecognisable Debbie Reynolds with a prosthetic nose and a thick Polish accent) who doesn’t want to question her son too closely. But they make the obsequious lawyers and businessmen, who arrive in Savile Row suits to serve and exploit him, seem detestable.

Certainly, Soderbergh, LaGravenese and Douglas view Liberace with affection and admiration in their genital-warts-and-all portrait. In a tender and extremely touching movie he comes across as a colourful figure of some courage, as defiant in his way as Quentin Crisp, a gay contemporary of Liberace’s who confronted his homosexuality in a rather different manner and was also brilliantly impersonated by a straight actor, John Hurt, in The Naked Civil Servant.




BLITZ REVIEWS—Eating Poison: Food, Drugs and Health

Book Reviews
Eating Poison: Food, Drugs and Health
By Kellia Ramares-Watson
Published: May 25, 2013 Words: 15,484 (approximate) Language: American English
ISBN: 9781301235896

Food-content guides

By Sean Lenihan

eatingPoison

Eating Poison introduces investigative journalist Martha Rosenberg, and her book “Born with a Junk Food Deficiency: How flaks, quacks, and hacks pimp the public health”. Author Kellia Ramares-Watson, herself an investigative journalist, adds her own research to give the reader a primer on two major causes of modern health problems: Processed foods and prescription drugs. [/pullquote]

Not surprising, then, that of all nations the US should be (along with New Zealand, and we wonder why that is) the only nation permitting “direct to consumer advertising” (DTC).  This is in keeping with its permissive attitude toward commercial advertisers. The US, after all, is, again, the only major nation to allow constant, 24/7 program interruptions on its television schedules. Other nations eschew this format regarding it as barbaric.  Britain carries commercial spots but in far fewer numbers than in the US, and certain networks do not carry ads at all. In France something similar obtains, and former president Nicolas Sarkozy, a rightwing politician seeking to expand his popularity base even banned ads altogether in 2009. Only in the US do the authorities allow the exploiters of television to inject their messages at all times, thereby causing what some media students have called “fragmentation”, not to mention mental overload. As noted by pioneer media analyst Herbert Schiller,

Fragmentation, or focalization, is the dominant–indeed, the exclusive–format for information and news distribution in North America. Radio and television news is characterized by the machine-gun-like recitation of numerous unrelated items. Newspapers are multipaged assemblages of materials set down almost randomly, or in keeping with arcane rules of journalism. Magazines deliberately break up articles, running the bulk of the text in the back of the issue, so that readers must turn several pages of advertising copy to continue reading. Radio and television programs are incessantly interrupted to provide commercial breaks. The commercial has become so deeply internalized in American viewing/listening life that children’s programs, which, it is claimed, are specially designed for educational objectives, utilize the rapid-paced, interrupted pattern of commercial TV though there is no solid evidence that children have short attention spans and need continuous breaks. In fact, it may be that the gradual expansion of the attention span is a controlling factor in the development of children’s intelligence. All the same, Sesame Street, the widely acclaimed program for youngsters, is in its delivery style indistinguishable from the mind-jarring adult commercial review upon which it must base its format or lose its audience of children already conditioned by commercial programs.

and,

The intrusions also trivialize highly dramatic moments, hindering emotional involvement in any given issue, and thereby indirectly dampening the potential for political protest.  (1)

Against this backdrop the permission to run DTC ads is simply a logical extension of an already well accepted malignant cultural practice. Fact is, most Americans, mired in ethnocentrism, regard the “American Way” as the universal, inevitable way. Their political and social imagination badly stunted, they conceive of no other approach to running television.

But the criminal absurdity of allowing this abusive modality to control the most powerful medium of mass communications ever devised is obvious to any impartial observer, or any politician or media person with some decency, even if  both species are rare in the US these days. Thus not much is heard about the topic. Radical witnesses naturally complain, but their voices are routinely blocked by the mainstream media, thereby consigning them to oblivion. Indeed, as Michael Parenti has often pointed out, omission of important  “radical truths” about the system is the first line of ideological defense drawn by the corporate media in the service of its masters. In this context, reading this book and disseminating its carefully assembled facts is an effective way to strike back at a rotten and hypocritical status quo that feeds off of passivity and ignorance.  It is time that people of the left engaged in conscious, systematic counter propaganda.  Authors like Ms. Ramares-Watson and Rosenberg have done their job. The tools are there for us to use. Now it’s up to us to pick them up and do what we must.

—Sean Lenihan is The Greanville Post’s associate editor.
(1) See The Packaged Consciousness, by Herbert Schiller.
_________________________________________________________
Precis about this book

Extended description

Eating Poison introduces investigative journalist Martha Rosenberg, and her book “Born with a Junk Food Deficiency: How flaks, quacks, and hacks pimp the public health”. Author Kellia Ramares-Watson, herself an investigative journalist, adds her own research to give the reader a primer on two major causes of modern health problems: Processed foods and prescription drugs.

Topics covered include Direct to Consumer advertising of prescription drugs, the obesity epidemic, and the cloning of meat and dairy animals. The book also contains several of Rosenberg’s humorous but pointed illustrations, and Ramares-Watson’s review of Rosenberg’s book.

Available ebook reading formats

Single purchase gains access to all formats. How to download ebooks to e-reading devices and apps.

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The truth about Zero Dark Thirty: this torture fantasy degrades us all

Kathryn Bigelow and Mark Boal’s film claims to be ‘based on a true story’ but no non-fiction writer could take such liberties

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cX442Sq8o_M
Bigelow the day she got her first Oscar (for The Hurt Locker)

Michael Wolff
guardian.co.uk, Monday 24 December 2012 12.10 EST

Zero Dark Thirty is a dreary and predictable movie (predictable even beyond that we know Osama bin Laden’s fate). Also, it’s a bit copy-cat. It’s Homeland without the character quirks. (“OK… picture this… Homeland… but the girl isn’t nuts – just super-focused. What about that?” is something like how the screenwriter, Mark Boal, must have pitched it.)

The controversy about the movie involves its unambiguous cause and effect assertion that the torture of al-Qaida principals and hangers on was the key to finding Osama bin Laden – ie: torture works. Pretty much everybody in the intelligence community in a position to say this isn’t true has said it isn’t. And then there’s the girl-alone-against-the-world narrative: Maya, our heroine, thinks about nothing else but Osama bin Laden for almost 10 years and because of this single-minded obsession, American forces are able to find and kill him. That according to everybody and anybody, and to common sense, is hogwash too.

A non-fiction writer couldn’t do this. If you did this and maintained, to the extent that the makers of Zero Dark Thirty appear to maintain, that this was true, and with as little documentary evidence, either no one would publish you or you would have to invent evidence to get published. And then, you’d invariably be found out, scandal would ensue and your name would be blackened.

Movies, on the other hand, even when they represent themselves to be non-fiction like Zero Dark Thirty, are still what we accept as a “dramatization”, so therefore not really real. How that is different from a non-fiction author using novelizing techniques to bring to life his story – and subsequently being humiliated by Oprah when he turns out to have significantly stretched the truth – I don’t know.

It certainly isn’t that this is just mere suspension of disbelief and that, when the lights go on, we go back to known reality. In fact, Zero Dark Thirty, wrapped in the great praise that invariably accompanies middle-brow claptrap claiming to cope with the big issues of the day, will compete as a true narrative for how al-Qaida was dealt with and Osama dispatched. (Similarly, The Social Network, an almost entirely made-up version of the founding of Facebook, has pretty much become the rosetta stone of social-media history.)

Notably, the makers of this silly, stick-figure and cartoonish movie, director Kathryn Bigelow and screenwriter Boal, are not out on talk shows defending the verisimilitude of their film. Their affect – which perhaps journalists caught in the act of making things up ought to study – is much more sphinx-ike. They are artists and don’t have to lower themselves to defend or respond.

It’s helpful to them that the convenient reverse effect of all these Washington and CIA types saying it isn’t true is that it actually adds to the illusion that it is true.

It helps too that reviewers of a certain stature – Manhohla Dargis, for instance, in the New York Times – are willing to separate truth from drama or art. Putting actual facts and documentary evidence aside, what you have, according to Dargis is “a seamless weave of truth and drama… a wrenchingly sad, soul-shaking story about revenge and its moral costs… the most important American fiction movie about Sept. 11.” Nice work if you can get it.

But make no mistake truth is what is being sold here.

Without the pretense or, in some ultimate post-modern sense, the fiction that this is true, what you would have here, with all the lovely staged scenes of cinematic torture, is something as bent and campy and revisionist as Mel Gibson’s The Passion of The Christ.

If this were more accurately packaged – instead of “based on a true story”, something like “quite an extreme departure from a true story” – the drama would seem puerile, slapdash and unconvincing. A dramatic cliché. Fiction and drama work to the extent that you find yourself believing that they might, actually, at least in some parallel reality, be true. In this instance, the extent to which we might naturally believe the story line – CIA girl alone against the world doing nothing for 10 years but, against the wishes of her superiors, searching for Osama – would be minimal. Except if we are told it actually is true. Then, ipso facto, relying on our passivity and credulousness, our skepticism is less.

Bigelow, more a special-effects cinematographer than a movie director, and Boal, a run-of-the-mill scriptwriter, have, like many in Hollywood, only average or sub-par dramatic skills. They are helped and elevated by “real events”. Truth is a dramatic crutch.

In some further moral inversion, it is probably not the case that they actually believe their movie to be true. Rather this is, for them, a convenient construct, a rhetorical rouse, a vulgar and opportunistic lie, which the entire apparatus of making and selling this film is happy to join: truth, or the appearance of it, sells.

If Bigelow and Boal tried for a deal on a fictionalized version of the hunt for Osama, a fantasy, an entertainment, they probably couldn’t have gotten it. That would be ho-hum.

But back to torture, which is what this movie is really about.

The big “truth” point here is about the efficiency and efficacy of torture. Using these terrible methods is, for better or worse, how we got the intel to ultimately find Osama.

But that is only the surface message, the cover story if you will. The real story, the real truth the filmmakers are trying to subliminally present, is about the beauty of torture.

The bald claim, or the meta construct, or the wink wink about this being a serious and important version of a big issue is really just so we can get to the total sexiness of physical abuse. You need a higher purpose to get out-and-out pervy stuff like this into a big-budget movie. History is the justification.

Kathryn Bigelow is a fetishist and a sadist, which, in a literary sense, certainly has a fine tradition. But without some acknowledgement that this is her lonely journey and not a shared one – not our collective reality, not a set of accepted assumptions but, for better or worse, her own particular, problematic kink – all you have is a nasty piece of pulp and propaganda.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Wolff is a columnist and author. He wrote the Man Who Owns the News: Inside the Secret World of Rupert Murdoch, a biography of the media mogul. Follow him on Twitter @MichaelWolffNYC

 

SELECT COMMENTS

Guaitaquinscollons
24 December 2012 5:25 PMLink to this comment
Hollywood has totally surrendered to the charms of this dimestore Leni Riefenstahl. At least the real one made her films before the war and was more of an artistic pioneer.
Guaitaquinscollons
24 December 2012 5:36 PMLink to this comment
Recommend
72
Enjoying them on an aesthetic level, that is. In all other aspects, her films are crap.

sentience
24 December 2012 6:35 PMLink to this comment
Bigelow is indeed a sadist and a fetishist. it needed to be said.

Briar
24 December 2012 8:34 PMLink to this comment
IgAIgEIgG
24 December 2012 8:52 PMLink to this comment
She is a pig.
I simply cannot express enough disgust for those who would use the might of Hollywood propaganda to build approval and support for the torture (a war crime) committed by the American government, the CIA, and the US military.
Torture is cancer, and therefore death, for any state or entity which uses it, including the CIA and the American military. The stupid pig is either so selfish she does not care or she is so dumb she does not understand.
twopennorth
24 December 2012 10:08 PMLink to this comment
Leni Riefenstahl
Spot on. Hollywood is the propaganda arm of neocon fascism.




The Life of Pi: In a lifeboat alone with a tiger

By David Walsh, wsws.org
.
lifeofPi-tiger
It is not easy to figure out what is taking place on this planet of ours. Certain people throw their hands up in the air in the face of the complexities and often painfulness of human circumstances. In the case of individuals, this is unfortunate and potentially tragic. Such an impotent and faint-hearted gesture becomes something more pernicious when artists and other public figures turn it into a positive program.

Life of Pi, directed by Taiwanese-born Ang Lee (The Wedding Banquet, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Brokeback Mountain), is based on the 2001 novel—winner of the Booker Prize—by Canadian author Yann Martel.

The book and film are told by an adult Piscine Molitor Patel (named after a Paris swimming pool, but known since childhood as Pi), now living in Canada, to a writer (Rafe Spall) on the lookout for a good story. The latter is assured that the tale will make him believe in God.

Pi (as an adult, Irrfan Khan) recounts—and we see—his early life in India, where his father operates a zoo in Pondicherry, an enclave in Tamil Nadu and a former French colony. Pi’s father and mother are proud members of the post-independence “New India.” His father in particular is a believer in rationality and science.

Pi, for reasons never explained, follows a different path. Not only does he adopt a religion, he becomes a devotee of several. To the consternation of his family (and the various clerics involved), he takes up Hinduism, Christianity and Islam simultaneously. He simply wants “to love God.” Through the various faiths, we are led to understand, he comes closer to nature and his fellow creatures.

As conditions in India become more unstable in the late 1970s, Pi’s parents decide the family should emigrate to Canada. They arrange to sell their various animals to zoos in North America and set sail with them aboard a freighter across the Pacific Ocean.

The bulk of the novel and film treats the consequences of a disaster at sea. An explosion apparently takes place on the vessel, which quickly sinks. By a quirk of fate (or…?), 16-year-old Pi (now Suraj Sharma) ends up the only human, a modern Noah, in a lifeboat with an injured zebra, a female orangutan, a hyena and a formidable Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. After a few violent encounters between the animals, only Pi and the 450-pound tiger remain. The boy retreats to a handmade raft dragged by the lifeboat.

Pi will spend 227 days on the open ocean, much of the time sharing the small boat with the tiger (his raft is eventually lost in a tempest). Without ever taming the ferocious creature, Pi learns how to coexist with it. He feeds the animal fish and other seafood, provides water and, at the same time, marks out his own territory and intimidates the tiger with the help of a whistle, a stick and aggressive, “super-Alpha” behavior.

Pi and Richard Parker undergo various experiences: an initially frightening school of flying fish, near submerging thanks to a curious whale, months of exposure to the punishing elements, the aforementioned storm, a brief stay on a floating island that proves to hold a sinister secret.…

In the end, the boat drifts ashore in Mexico. When Pi tells Japanese officials (the shipping line was Japanese) his narrative about the tiger, the island, etc., they understandably fail to believe him. He tries another version, this one involving human brutality. That is more satisfying. However, neither story can be proven. Which do the officials prefer? The one about the animals. “And so it goes with God,” says Pi.

The novel and film have reached a substantial audience. It is not so difficult to see why. The book is pleasantly and humanely written, it reads easily for the most part, with a good deal of description of exotic natural wonders (although Martell is no stranger to cliché and banality). Up to a point, the author is able to interest the reader in turning the page. Ang Lee captures some of this in the film, with the aid of remarkable contemporary film technologies.

Life of Pi urges a tolerance of peoples and creeds, and its sympathy for Hindus and Muslims no doubt strikes a chord with readers and audience members disgusted with the xenophobia and Islamophobia that dominates the Western media (and the efforts of a vile breed of “atheists” à la the late Christopher Hitchens). The passages on animal behavior and psychology have their own interest.

Ang Lee (born 1954) is an accomplished filmmaker, who has already established his ability to take on various epochs—including Regency England (Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility), the suburban US in the 1970s (The Ice Storm), Civil War America (Ride with the Devil) and China on the eve of World War II (Lust, Caution)—and genres. It is less clear, apart from an obvious concern with tolerance for “difference” (ethnic, gender, etc.) of various kinds, what important themes guide him. He seems something of a half-empty vessel, who comes under the influence of more assertive personalities, for better or worse.

Despite the beauties of India, the impressiveness of the Bengal tiger and gorgeous seascapes, Lee’s new film is ultimately tedious. It is not especially believable, and this reviewer at least has a weakness for relations between human beings. Ishmael had an entire crew in Moby Dick, and even Robinson Crusoe had Friday. As for demonstrating the existence of God, the threshold of proof here seems set very low. And, after all, if one invents a series of fictitious miracles and then presents them as evidence of a divinely ordered universe, is that likely to convince anyone but the most credulous?

Life of Pi, book and film, is not subtle in its advocacy of religious faith and irrationalism. To give the reader a sense of it, in Yann Martell’s novel, there are 128 references to God, 54 uses of “religion” or “religiously,” another 13 mentions of faith and 10 uses of “mystery” or “mysteriously.” Poor old science comes in for 7 references, and they are not generally friendly ones.

Martell (born 1963), the son of French-Canadian parents, explained in an interview, “I’m from Quebec, which is the most secular province in Canada, was the most Catholic, then underwent something called the Quiet Revolution, which was in a matter of a year or two, people left the church in droves.… My parents are children of that revolution, so I grew up in a completely secular household and I studied philosophy at university, which is a great way of making you an atheist, a rabid atheist, or at the very least, a rabid agnostic.” In other words, there is a parallel between Pi’s upbringing and Martell’s.

The novelist went on to explain how a trip to India changed his outlook. “So from someone who comes from a Western background, where we are so taught to be reasonable, we are so pushed to be reasonable, do things for, you know, rational reasons…it’s desiccating, it dries you out, which is why I think so many people go to India and in a sense go wonderfully crazy. They suddenly want to become Buddhists, they want to become Hindus, they start wearing, you know, orange robes and, you know, praying to elephant-headed gods and they do yoga and they, you know, do funny things. Well, it’s because you’ve been dried out and suddenly you’re drenched in water, it refreshes you.”

With apologies to Martell, the times had a great deal more to do with his change in philosophy than a mere visit to India. He is hardly the only artist currently at work to draw unhealthy or empty-headed conclusions from the failure of 1960s’ radicalism (in different ways, vide Lars von Trier and Michel Houellebecq).

As Martell explains and Life of Pi illustrates, reason and science do perfectly well for everyday life, but they cannot begin to deal with larger questions. In the novel, Pi describes with a certain fondness his high school biology teacher, “an active Communist” and “avowed atheist,” but condescendingly underscores his limitations. “When Mr. Kumar visited the zoo, it was to take the pulse of the universe, and his stethoscopic mind always confirmed to him that everything was in order, that everything was order. He left the zoo feeling scientifically refreshed.” The reader will get the general idea.

However, if reason and science prove unreliable or worse in regard to the most difficult problems, as Pi is to discover out on the Pacific, then, in fact, they are of no real value at all. The important workings of the universe are inexplicable. God works in mysterious, even tigerish ways, and our lot is to be tested, Job-like. As Lee explained to an interviewer, “It is a journey, as a test of the strength of our faith, of how firm we believe in it.”

In Martell’s case, religion is not Marx’s “sigh of the oppressed,” it is the response of an overwhelmed, rather intellectually lazy, perhaps panic-stricken middle class individual to the current state of the world. Social forces have to be at work, because the novel’s level of reasoning is feeble. It is the equivalent of something along these lines: “That pond is shaped like a penguin! It has to be heavenly design.” Or, “I don’t understand how my television receives images…well, there must be a God!”

This is comforting to certain people. As a certain Canadian prime minister once told the nation after suffering an electoral defeat, “The universe is unfolding as it should.” Terrible things may be going on, but they can somehow be accounted for as part of a greater scheme, above and beyond one’s control. Of course, to the mundanely inclined, a Canadian author writing about a boy alone in a small boat with a tiger might bring to mind the precarious situation of a nation stuck on the same continent with the ever more bellicose United State of America.

And there’s the by now extremely tired business about “stories.” No story captures the truth, one or another fiction merely proves more useful in getting us over the rough spots of existence. (Have we heard this somewhere before? It’s possible.) That being the case, the livelier one seems preferable.

In the novel, when his Japanese questioners inform Pi that they want the “straight facts,” without “invention,” he replies smugly, “I know what you want. You want a story that won’t surprise you. That will confirm what you already know. That won’t make you see higher or further or differently. You want a flat story.… You want dry, yeastless factuality.”

In my view, people who find no drama in everyday life and lives, and feel obliged, for example, to ski down Mount Everest to keep themselves occupied and excited, are not to be trusted about important matters.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For our money, David Walsh is just about the best movie critic working today in America. His reviews span not only the artistic and cultural merits of film, but the equally important historical and political contexts in which art—even an occasionally debased art such as film—is produced.  The World Socialist Web Site is lucky to have him.




Behind Skyfall: The Not So Charming Face of 007

Please make sure these dispatches reach as many readers as possible. Share with kin, friends and workmates and ask them to do likewise.

By Paul Carline, Associate Editor, The Greanville Post

"To Empire, with Love"

Daniel Craig is the latest James Bond. But who does this durable agent truly serve?

It’s said there are few safer bets in Hollywood than a Bond film.The latest offering in the extremely lucrative Bond franchise - “Skyfall” - has already broken box-office records, taking some $87.8 million in its first weekend in the USA, and easily covering its $200 million production costs in the first two weeks. So far, the Eon Productions series has grossed $4,910,000,000 (over $12,360,000,000 when adjusted for inflation) worldwide, making it the second highest grossing film series after “Harry Potter”.

In a world in which active compassion for our fellow humans was the norm, would such extravagances be tolerated? A question at least worth asking. But I’ll leave it open. I’m going to tackle the simpler question as to whether anything of consequence lies below the surface of the seemingly harmless escapism of the 007 movies, and in particular “Skyfall”.

A little background for those (few? many?) who are perhaps blissfully ignorant of James Bond. The original books - 15 of them - were written between 1953 and 1964 by Englishman Ian Fleming. He had a privileged upbringing and a very varied professional career pre-war. In 1939, he became the personal assistant to the British director of naval intelligence and was used as his liaison officer with other sections of the government's wartime administration, such as the Secret Intelligence Service, the Political Warfare Executive, the Special Operations Executive (SOE), the Joint Intelligence Committee and the Prime Minister's staff.

Fleming also worked with Colonel "Wild Bill" Donovan, President Franklin D. Roosevelt's special representative on intelligence cooperation between London and Washington. In May 1941 Fleming traveled to the United States, where he assisted in writing a blueprint for the Office of the Coordinator of Information, the department which turned into the Office of Strategic Services and eventually became the CIA. In 1942 Fleming was instrumental in forming a commando group tasked with seizing German documents close to or even behind the enemy line. In 1945 Fleming had a house built in Jamaica. It was named “Goldeneye” and was where all his Bond novels were written. It took him only two months to write the first one: “Casino Royale”.

It’s interesting that Fleming said that he had chosen the name “James Bond” because it was “the dullest, plainest-sounding name I could find”, and that Bond would be “a neutral figure”: “Exotic things would happen around him [but he himself would be] “an anonymous blunt instrument wielded by a government department”. In fact it was not until the penultimate novel “You Only Live Twice”, published in 1964, that Fleming bothered to include any biographical details about Bond - giving him a Scottish father and a French mother, both killed in a mountaineering accident when “James” was 11 years old. Their Scottish home is called Skyfall.

The young Bond is then brought up by an aunt in England and briefly attends the famous Eton public school (as did Fleming), before being “sent down” (expelled) for having - at the age of 12 or 13 - had some kind of sexual relationship with a maid. He is then sent to another public school - Fettes College in Edinburgh - at which British Prime Minister Tony Blair would also be educated (British “public schools” are of course the opposite of being “public”; they are in fact expensive private schools and a very important part of the British establishment). Bond’s Scottish background plays a significant role in “Skyfall”.

For anyone wanting more detailed information about Fleming and the stories, the Wikipedia entry on Fleming is excellent. In addition to the biographical detail, the entry examines some of the “major themes” of the books. It notes:

“The Bond books were written in post-war Britain, when the country was still an imperial power. As the series progressed, the British Empire was in decline; journalist William Cook observed that "Bond pandered to Britain's inflated and increasingly insecure self-image, flattering us with the fantasy that Britannia could still punch above her weight." This decline of British power was referred to in a number of the novels; in From Russia, with Love, it manifested itself in Bond's conversations with Darko Kerim, when Bond says that in England, "we don't show teeth any more—only gums." The theme is strongest in one of the later books of the series, the 1964 novel You Only Live Twice, in conversations between Bond and the head of Japan's secret intelligence service, Tiger Tanaka. Fleming was acutely aware of the loss of British prestige in the 1950s and early ‘60s, particularly during the Indonesia–Malaysia confrontation, when he had Tanaka accuse Britain of throwing away the empire "with both hands".

Jeremy Black points to the defections of four members of MI6 to the Soviet Union as having a major impact on how Britain was viewed in US intelligence circles. The last of the defections was that of Kim Philby in January 1963, while Fleming was still writing the first draft of You Only Live Twice. The briefing between Bond and M is the first time in the twelve books that Fleming acknowledges the defections. Black contends that the conversation between M and Bond allows Fleming to discuss the decline of Britain, with the defections and the Profumo Affair of 1963 as a backdrop. Two of the defections had taken place shortly before Fleming wrote Casino Royale, and Fleming's biographer Andrew Lycett observes that the book can be seen as the writer's "attempt to reflect the disturbing moral ambiguity of a post-war world that could produce traitors like Burgess and Maclean." (1)

Ian Fleming, a gent of the Old School felled by a heart attack at 56—the family scourge. He knew MI6 from within and invested Bond with many of his real-life traits: heavy smoking, boozing and more than a fair appreciation for women. Like most men of his class and generation, he did not question Britain's equivocal role in the world, nor her close association with the rising American empire. Worst of all, perhaps unwittingly he contributed to a grand whitewash of sinister ops by Western intel agencies across the world.

After playing on postwar anti-German sentiment in novels such as “Moonraker” (1955) and “For Your Eyes Only” (1960), Fleming first exploited the Cold War “Russian threat” - embodied in SMERSH (meaning “death to spies”) - and then created the supposed international terrorist group SPECTRE (in Thunderball, 1961), permitting the depiction of "evil unconstrained by ideology".

“Skyfall” relates to all this in sometimes perplexing ways. To begin with, there is very little overt ‘geopolitical context’ - a criticism made of Fleming’s ‘Bond’ stories by none other than John le Carre. The only exceptions are, firstly, in relation to the computer hard drive - containing the names and aliases of all the “NATO agents” who have infiltrated foreign terrorist organisations - which the “villain” (an ex-MI6 agent called Raoul Silva) has somehow managed to obtain i.e. it locates MI6 and by implication Britain firmly within the NATO context; and secondly in a very significant speech by ‘M’ towards the end of the film which bears little direct relationship to the storyline. I shall come back to this. There is in this also a sort of connection to the theme of defection mentioned above: the “villain” is presented as a renegade spy who has become some kind of international cyberterrorist. Yet his “defection” was seemingly an enforced one - he was effectively betrayed by his MI6 boss ‘M‘ - and his ‘terrorist’ actions (including blowing up part of the MI6 headquarters in London) appear to be largely motivated by his desire for personal revenge on ‘M’, whom he accuses of having condemned him to years of imprisonment and torture after he had been ‘sacrificed’ in a spy exchange deal with a foreign power (China).

There is - perhaps surprisingly - a welcome absence of any direct reference to the concocted ennemi du jour which replaced Soviet Russia in the 1990s as the “devil incarnate”: a ‘jihadist’ Islamic fundamentalism bent on destroying the West, though one could suppose it to be (almost subliminally) implied in the speech by ‘M’ quoted below. It has even been proposed that the Silva character is meant to suggest Wikileaks founder Julian Assange - a hero to some, a “cyberterrorist” to others; and for some a CIA/MI6 stooge.

Compared, for example, to the in-your-face title sequence of the current series of the American TV drama Homeland - with its catalogue of film and audio clips all relating to America’s alleged major “terrorist” events, Skyfall is disarmingly reticent, with historical references being implied rather than stated; as, for instance, in the scene in which Silva, being chased by Bond in some deserted underground space below London, detonates a charge which brings down the ceiling, leaving a large hole through which a London Tube train then dramatically plunges - a fairly obvious reminder of the “terrorist” attack on three Tube trains in July 2005 (allegedly carried out by four young “homegrown” Islamic fundamentalists, but which the evidence suggests was in reality a “false flag” event, almost certainly - and ironically, in terms of the film - involving both MI5 and MI6).

I’ll briefly mention a few elements in the film which seem to me to have a wider resonance. When the ‘resurrected’ Bond resurfaces (literally - he is shown in the pre-title sequence apparently drowning after plunging off a high bridge into the sea, having been accidentally - and seemingly fatally - shot by a fellow MI6 agent) he appears (improbably) in ‘M’’s room, standing in the shadows by the heavily-curtained windows (we are not meant to ask how, with neither money nor passport, he has made his way half way across the world and entered what must be one of the most heavily protected houses in the country).

THE BULLDOG: the squatting china bulldog with the Union Jack painted on its back which sits on M’s desk wasn’t made specially for the film. The original “Bulldog Jack” design dates from 1941 and is a piece still produced by the Royal Doulton company. The company’s website notes that “due to very high demand we are now out of stock” - no need to guess why (the new range of “Jacks” have an 007 backstamp). If you want one, you will have to wait until February 2013, when the 3.75” high model will be available again at the ‘royal’ sum of £50.

Bond’s creator, Ian Fleming, was an ardent reader at a young age of the “Bulldog Drummond” novels written by Herman Cyril McNeile between 1920 and 1954. The Wiki entry reads: “The Bulldog Drummond stories follow Captain Hugh "Bulldog" Drummond, DSO, MC, a wealthy man who was an officer in the "Royal Loamshire Regiment", who, after the First World War, spends his new-found leisure time as a private detective. It begins when he places an advertisement in the local newspaper: “Demobilised Officer finding peace incredibly tedious would welcome diversion. Legitimate if possible; but crime of a humorous description, no objection. Excitement essential.” Drummond is a proto-James Bond figure. The earlier film portrayals of Bond, especially in the Roger Moore incarnation, certainly played up the humorous angle. Daniel Craig’s ‘Bond’ is altogether more intense.

The heroes in Lily Pad Roll are truly multidimensional, and in purpose much at loggerheads with Bond's true mission.

A ‘blunt instrument’ does what it’s told, of course, unquestioningly; it has no conscience. In a Pravda article of 1965, the author writes that: “James Bond lives in a nightmarish world whose laws are written at the point of a gun, where coercion and rape are considered valour and murder is a funny trick ... Bond’s job is to guard the interests of the property class and he is no better than the youths Hitler boasted he would bring up like wild beasts to be able to kill without thinking”. John le Carre said that Bond was more like an “international gangster”. There is still some truth in this analysis: MI6 exists to protect the (often illegal) interests of the elites, and Bond still kills the ‘villains’ without compunction (as, presumably, do real-life agents of MI6 and other secret services), but in Craig’s Bond we are given a more ‘human’ spy - less human, to be sure, than George Smiley and a far cry from the deeply introspective, self-questioning humanity of the ‘good spies’ in Gaither Stewart’s “Europe Trilogy”.

The Russians apparently called wartime British prime minister Winston Churchill the “British Bulldog” - and it has to be admitted that there is some facial resemblance between the two.

After the bombing of the MI6 headquarters in Skyfall, MI6 decamps to what is described as Churchill’s underground wartime bunker system.

At the end of the film, Bond is presented with a parcel containing something that ‘M’ has bequeathed him in her will: it’s the china bulldog. An American reviewer writes that this “four-legged twin of Winston Churchill and talismanic symbol of British tenacity, features prominently. Hence, a ceramic bulldog improbably survives the explosion in M’s MI6 office. M wills the bulldog to Bond. When Bond unwraps M’s symbolic bequest, the audience in my west Texas theatre erupted in cheers and applause.” The symbolism is clearly understood.

The last scene of the film shows Bond standing solidly, legs apart in a defiant - Churchillian? - posture, on the roof of MI6, looking out over the skyline of London, and flanked on his right by a large Union Jack. We are clearly meant to identify with the flag.

M’s ADDRESS: As already mentioned, the political context of Skyfall is fairly unclear, even confused. Only once it is expressed in any kind of coherent way. When Silva reveals the identities of a number of British agents, they are captured and killed and ‘M’ is summoned before a parliamentary inquiry at Westminster to account for herself. In her defence she states:

“Our enemies are no longer known to us. They don’t exist on a map. Our world is not more transparent, now. It’s more opaque. That’s where we have to fight. In the shadows.”

She then quotes from Tennyson’s poem “Ulysses”, which she says was her father’s favourite poem:

“Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

The poem has clear resonances for the self-understanding of a Britain - more particularly an England - which is (once again) suffering a crisis of identity. It also relates directly to Bond in ‘Skyfall’. When he reappears, he has certainly been “made weak by time and fate”. But his will is strong: though he fails the fitness and pistol shooting tests, he is able to return to active duty because ‘M’ lies about the results.

When they first meet, Silva taunts Bond with the words: “England. The Empire. MI6. You’re living in a ruin”. Out of the mouths of renegade MI6 agents ... This is far closer to the truth than many would wish to admit. The new crisis has less to do with the loss of empire and more with a widespread sense of purposelessness and anomie: tied to NATO but unsure of its “special relationship” with the US; swept up unwillingly into America’s imperial wars - based in part on lies in which Britain, in the person of Tony Blair, was centrally implicated; in a strange love:hate relationship with the rest of Europe; looking enviously at the economic might of Germany, the real powerhouse of Europe, solidly based in the engineering skills which were once the pride of Britain; subconsciously aware of the fragility of its own economy, masked for the moment by the Bank of England’s ability to print money on demand, like the Federal Reserve in the US; and threatened by the break-up of disunited “United Kingdom”, with Scotland pushing hard for an independence which might drag Wales and Northern Ireland in its wake, leaving England stuck in its outdated monarchical past.

All of this has to be denied or suppressed and the fiction maintained that Britain is still “Great”. That false sense of greatness is something it shares with the US, and for similar reasons - collapsing economies and crumbling social cohesion, with the growing realisation by more and more people that the system works for the interests of the few, not the many. In that context, the Bond stories can be used as an effective propaganda weapon, part of the agenda to protect the establishment - including the ‘useful’ monarchy - through the manufactured fear of “unknown enemies” who lurk “in the shadows”.

It’s the same old ruse, admitted in 1945 by Hermann Goering:

"Why of course the people don't want war ... But after all it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship ... Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."

The London Olympics connection:

As part of the four-hour-long opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympics in London, a short film commissioned by the BBC and directed by the ceremony designer Danny Boyle (“Trainspotting”, “Slumdog Millionaire”) is shown (on TV and on screens to the spectators in the Olympic Stadium; the worldwide audience was estimated at 900 million). Daniel Craig - in classic Bond attire - arrives at Buckingham Palace in an iconic black London cab. He mounts the grand staircase, passing exactly between two corgi dogs (one of which performs a full roll) before being admitted to the Queen’s private room by one of the Queen’s servants. Bond coughs discreetly to attract the Queen’s attention (she is sitting with her back to him at a writing desk). She eventually turns and greets him with “Good evening, Mr. Bond”.

They depart together, followed by the corgis, and are apparently seen climbing aboard a (British made) helicopter, which takes off and flies across London towards the Olympic stadium. On cue, various individuals - a black cab driver with a Union Jack painted on his face, for instance - and groups turn to wave. The statue of Winston Churchill is digitally animated to make him appear to wave his walking stick at the helicopter. The ‘copter hovers above the stadium and two figures are seen to exit it. Their Union Jack parachutes open and they eventually land alongside the stadium (both figures are, of course, stuntmen). The Queen is then seen to enter the stadium, together with her husband, and take her seat. The entire sequence is accompanied by ‘atmospheric’ music: two pieces by Handel (The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba and the music for the Royal Fireworks), the theme music of the film “The Dam Busters” (about the RAF’s destruction in WWII of two dams in Germany using the “bouncing bomb” invented by Barnes Wallis), and finally the most famous 007 theme.

All in all, a very clever combination of highly evocative icons - not forgetting a commercial pre-launch boost for “Skyfall” and the Bond brand (of course, in the way they are exploited, for nationalistic and other purposes, you could say that the Queen and wider Royal Family are also a brand). The film was given the title “Happy and Glorious” - words from the national anthem relating to the monarch, but presumably intended to be applied more widely to Britain as a whole, which with notable exceptions - such as the Olympics, when Britain certainly “punched above its weight” - is neither happy nor glorious. The film was commissioned by the BBC - the propaganda voice of the British establishment.

The opening ceremony also made much of Blake’s “Jerusalem”. The musical setting of the poem is often seen as Britain’s unofficial national anthem. The poem was inspired by the apocryphal story that a young Jesus, accompanied by his uncle Joseph of Arimathea, a tin merchant, travelled to what is now England and visited Glastonbury during Jesus' lost years. A model of the famous hill in Glastonbury - Glastonbury Tor - was created for the ceremony. The legend is linked to an idea in the Book of Revelation (3:12 and 21:2) describing a Second Coming, wherein Jesus establishes a new Jerusalem. The Christian Church in general, and the English Church in particular, used Jerusalem as a metaphor for Heaven, a place of universal love and peace. In the most common interpretation of the poem, Blake implies that a visit by Jesus would briefly create heaven in England, in contrast to the "dark Satanic Mills" of the Industrial Revolution. No ‘dark mills’ now - but there’s no shortage of dark satanic intrigues and machinations.

In the final paragraph of his programme notes for the ceremony, Danny Boyle writes:

“But we hope that through all the noise and excitement you’ll glimpse a single golden thread of purpose – the idea of Jerusalem – of the better world, the world of real freedom and true equality, a world that can be built through the prosperity of industry, through the caring notion that built the welfare state, through the joyous energy of popular culture, through the dream of universal communication. A belief that we can build Jerusalem. And that it will be for everyone.”

Fine words, but freedom and equality are not on the agenda of those who pull the strings - the real “enemies in the shadows”. We should also remember that a ‘new Jerusalem’ is also a central aim of Zionism (the peculiar 2012 Olympic logo was widely seen as a veiled spelling of the word ZION). In the utterly un-Christian, so-called “Christian Zionism”, when Israel has rebuilt Solomon’s Temple (necessitating the destruction of the Muslim Dome of the Rock) after having finally completed its aim of ‘cleansing’ the whole of Biblical Palestine of its original Arab - and ironically mostly Semitic - population, this will be the sign of the ‘Second Coming’ and the beginning of the ‘end times’.

There was a very apt online comment on Boyle’s use of the idea of a ‘new Jerusalem’: “I’m not sure ‘building Jerusalem’ is the right language to use. It echoes the ‘shining city on the hill’ syndrome that gives legitimacy to US exceptionalism”. There’s more than a little of that wholly unjustified “we are special” delusion in Britain. The reality is that were it not for the Bank of England’s ‘right’ to print money (the same right as the Federal Reserve), Britain would long ago have joined Greece and Spain in the austerity camp. And instead of being a society which promotes “real freedom and true equality”, Britain has one of the lowest levels of social mobility (which equates with inequality) in the developed world.

In relation to ‘Skyfall’ i.e. to the role of the secret services, we need to remember that it was Britain’s MI6 which conspired with the CIA to set up the “stay behind armies” in Europe after WWII - paramilitary organisations trained and armed by the CIA and MI6 which carried out assassinations and bombings across Europe between 1969 and around 1982 which resulted in the deaths of at least 500 civilians, with many more left seriously injured. These were classic “false flag” events, blamed at the time on ‘the Communists’, with the aim of preventing left-wing parties from gaining political power, especially in Italy. (cf. Daniele Ganser’s “NATO’s Secret Armies: Operation Gladio and Terrorism in Western Europe). The European Parliament promised to set up full official inquiries in all the 17 or so countries where there had been these groups, but then failed to do so. As Ganser noted: “The dog barked but did not bite”.

Of course, there’s no reference in the Bond films to any such “false flag” activities, past or present, on the part of MI6. Bond and “M” and “Q” and the rest of them are all ‘nice‘ people whom we are supposed to believe are single-mindedly dedicated to saving us from terrorism, while in reality they are complicit in the alleged ‘terrorist‘ events, often setting up ‘patsies’ whom they can entrap, and in the propaganda lie that we are threatened by fanatical Muslims. ‘al-Qaeda‘ and all its many derivatives are inventions of the secret services - paid mercenaries in the war of fear against the general public. The Bond movies are not innocent entertainment. Whether the directors, producers, actors and others realise it or not, they are part of the cover-up of the dirty tricks the secret services are engaged in to subvert states and maintain the fiction of the “war on terror” - and thus part of the megalomaniac pursuit of world domination by those who stand in the shadows pulling the strings. Does ‘Bond’ contribute in any way towards the achievement of Danny Boyle’s idealistic hopes? I think not.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PAUL CARLINE considers himself self-deprecatingly as a “jack of all trades and master of none.” His career spans teaching music and German, work in special needs communities, store owner, direct democracy activist, and general truth campaigner (recent targets including pseudo-science, biblical mistranslation, state-sponsored false flag terrorism, and pseudo democracy). Now in hopefully graceful semi-retirement, Paul works sporadically as a writer, translator, editor, and musician. He authored the preface to the second volume of The Europe Trilogy: Lily Pad Roll. He lives in Scotland.  He serves as associate editor with The Greanville Post and Gaitherstewart.com .

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SUGGESTED READING
(1) For further discussion of the world of Western espionage before and during the Cold War, see 
Subversive thrills: Where Le Carré doesn’t dare to tread, by William T. Hathaway and Paul Carline,  and P. Greanville: Warnings about ugly, subterranean worlds .