THE HOBBIT

You could, with some justice, dismiss this latest of Peter Jackson’s Tolkien movies as self-indulgent, guilty of inflating modest story content to immodest lengths — or you could just adjust your sensibility to Jackson’s leisurely narrative pace, go with it and see where it takes you.  I would suggest the latter course.

There’s plenty of movie magic in the film to divert you, and while none of the images is as exciting, inventive or lyrical as some of those in the Rings trilogy, they’re good enough to keep you attentive.

But neither narrative momentum nor movie magic explains why this film is so easy to love, why audiences are flocking to see it. The film’s chief attractions are moral — it celebrates the value of simple decency in a horrifying world. It celebrates characters who treasure “loyalty, honor and a willing heart” above all other things.

Loyalty, honor and willing hearts are in short supply among our leaders these days, and among our pop culture icons — they are virtues that seem almost pathetic in the context of modern life, the attributes of losers. But in Middle Earth, they conquer, they rule, against all odds, and people are hungry to see that triumph of simple decency, even in a fairytale land.

We are frightened these days, as Gandalf is frightened of the dark forces gathering at the edges of his world, and the common decency of Bilbo Baggins gives us heart, as it gives Gandalf heart.

It is the genius of Gandalf, and of Peter Jackson, to understand the character of Bilbo as a specific against despair.  It’s what makes them both powerful wizards.

ZERO DARK THIRTY

Zero Dark Thirty is basically a really bad 70s TV movie jazzed up with hysterical, incoherent cutting and digitally goosed cinematography. It has no story, in any dramatic sense, and its characters are cardboard cut-outs. Taking a fascinating subject like this and turning it into mediocre claptrap requires a special kind of genius — the genius of the damned.  It’s no wonder that the film industry is embracing it as a great work, because the film industry is an industry of the damned.

To put it as plainly as possible, this film is a total piece of shit.

ZOOEY

I just want to state for the record that, in spite of all the rumors, my relationship with Zooey Deschanel played no role whatsoever in her recent divorce. It was a decision Zooey made on her own and had nothing to do with her feelings for me or her hopes for our future together.

Click on the image to enlarge.

SIX-SHOOTERS

People have often accused Westerns of romanticizing firearms, and there’s truth in the accusation, in the sense that Westerns communicated a respect for firearms and depicted them settling problems. But until the Sixties, Westerns could also be seen as providing instruction in the responsible and even moral use of firearms.

The protagonists of traditional Westerns used firearms only for self-defense or in defense of innocents unable to defend themselves. Transgressing this code identified a man as a villain or as a hero with flaws which had to be redeemed.

Since the Western trafficked in mythology more than in history, the Colt handgun or the Winchester rifle became symbols for any kind of force available to a person, and connected honor and self-worth with using such force thoughtfully and humanely.

All that changed, almost overnight it seemed, with the first scene of Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch. In that scene, the leader of a band of outlaws, played by William Holden, in the course of robbing a bank, takes a group of innocent unarmed people hostage and tells his cohorts, “If they move, kill ’em.”

Holden and his men are the protagonists of the film.  The passing of their way of life is mourned in lyrical terms and they die heroically.  They were seen as cool — even though they would have slaughtered their defenseless hostages in the bank in order to further a crime.

To Peckinpah this made them tough, ruthlessly efficient, not wicked, and did not compromise their heroic stature.  The commercial success of The Wild Bunch confirmed this attitude as acceptable to many but marked the beginning of the end of the Western, by robbing it of its once-central goal of presenting models of potent but admirable manhood.  By beginning the destruction of the traditional Western mythology, presenting a more “realistic” portrait of the American past, The Wild Bunch blocked off one avenue of improving the American future.