The war on war, cont'd
DIRECTOR GILLO PONTECORVO , 84, was as shocked as the next ex-Communist
to learn that the Pentagon was finding ways to use his beloved Battle
of Algiers to help plan its war against "terrorism." Speaking
through his bronchitis over the phone from Italy, he said he believes
the government's only using it to get what he called a "scent"
of the situation in Iraq and that the similarities between Iraq or Palestine
of today and Algeria of the '50s are somewhat limited.
While much has been made of the banning of The Battle of Algiers
in France when it came out, Pontecorvo remembers only one insurrectionist
incident after Louis Malle helped it finally open across the country:
someone in Lyon threw ink on the screen. The film went on to financial
success, which encouraged Pontecorvo, who started, but left unfinished,
a variety of great antiwar projects, from one on Palestine to another
on Archbishop Oscar Romero. What he would like to see made in the future,
whether it's by himself or someone else, he told me, is "something
to inflame the audience against any kind of war. There is something
absurd and incredible about how people in schools, in churches, in socialist
groups do not do absolutely everything they can to stop this stupid,
horrible thing that is war." Sadly, he said, producers aren't interested.
I myself can't speak to the churches or socialist groups. But as for
schools? I'd say the response is pretty weak. An attentive guy named
Fred wrote to the on-point blog of GreenCine's David Hudson to say,
"In the film theory class I took in film school we were supposed
to watch The Battle of Algiers on September 12, 2001. Needless
to say it was pushed back and then pushed back again until, finally
it was decided that it would be too traumatic to show Algiers
at all that year. Instead we watched Three Kings some weeks later
while bombs dropped on Afghanistan."
The fog of war, cont'd
Meanwhile, at UC Berkeley's Zellerbach Hall last week, purportedly
defogged Johnson-Kennedy secretary of defense Robert McNamara, the "IBM
machine with legs," made a refrain of the phrase "You won't
believe this, but it's a fact." His memory was weak on a couple
of points, but his numbers were in order: one million Japanese civilians
killed before the two nuclear bombs were dropped in WW II; $52 dollars
a year is what it cost to go to Cal when he attended so many decades
ago; two was his age on Nov. 11, 1918, an Armistice Day he claims to
remember; 173 reporters asked him about Bush's policy in Iraq before
he finally gave in to one and told the Toronto Globe and Mail
that no, he didn't support the war; and the 11 lessons you see in Errol
Morris's documentary were not the lessons McNamara put forth in his
book In Retrospect now out in paperback written
nine years ago. And yes, Morris was onstage too, occasionally asserting
his rightful ownership over the film, as Daniel Ellsberg and even Tom
Waits listened in.
Morris has taken criticism for not pushing McNamara quite hard enough
in the film, but even under the pressure of well-schooled moderator
Mark Danner, McNamara proved himself the world's greatest evader. Why
wouldn't McNamara join the opposition and come out against continued
war in Iraq? "You do it!" he continually replied. And while
Graduate School of Journalism dean Orville Schell advised the audience
to let McNamara say his piece in peace and quiet, the big surprise was
just how quiet the audience could remain, given the circumstances. The
only protest I saw was a small demo outside the BART station as McNamara
collected applause for a new platform he's running on: "Raise taxes!"
"Reduce the risk of nuclear war!" "Devise a judicial
deterrent for criminal acts in combat!" And then, of course, put
McNamara on trial.
The dig
The most-whispered commentary at the post-Sundance Brian Jonestown
Massacre show at Bottom of the Hill Feb. 17 was about just how much
money Anton Newcombe is asking for to give the filmmakers of Sundance
Documentary Grand Jury Prize winner Dig! the right to use his
music for the wide release of their film. There was a hint that Newcombe
would be asking too much, but consider that the film is, after all,
based on his life, work, and band's gory fights, all filmed in the most
unflattering detail. How much money should he hold out for? As much
as he can get.
Susan Gerhard