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Vertlieb's Views

"Stand By For Mars!"

Vertlieb's Views

Vertlieb's Views Commentary on movies past and present by Steve Vertlieb The 'Milk' of Human Kindness Having just returned from a screening of Milk, I'm tempted to write a critique of the film. It is a powerful, provocative, heart breaking motion picture about a sweet, gentle and courageous soul whose life was violently cut short by the fearful small mindedness of a frightened little man whose own narrow, selfish perception of societal right and wrong compelled him to eradicate anyone or anything who threatened to challenge his own boorish, self serving, miniscule belief system. That Dan White chose to murder Harvey Milk out of ignorance and hatred is symptomatic of the arrogance infecting our society, not only in America but, sadly, around this ever shrinking globe. We have only to turn on our television sets and radios to realize that the race hatred that polluted Hitler's Germany, caused the mass lynching of black Americans, slaughtered millions during the "Holy Crusades," persecutes starving masses in third world countries, and continues to humiliate and assault the "gay" communities is caused by a deeply disturbing intolerance of neighbors and neighborhoods throughout the world we inhabit. Despite the historical evidence, the sad decline of morality and respect within our "fast food" life style and mentality has proliferated and grown with alarming severity, while boorish behavior has become the norm, rather than the exception. For those of you who know me, I'd like to think that I'm a sensitive, compassionate, and caring soul who abhors violence and its consequences. Yet, I have found myself often in violent confrontation within the darkened confines of movie theaters I've attended. With increasing regularity, I have discovered an anger that frightens me and which I don't even recognize within my heart. I have, since childhood's earliest memories, prided myself on the respect I have held for others and their choices and beliefs. If any of you have had the good fortune to delve within the screenplay message of Clint Eastwood's dazzling star turn in Gran Torino, you've realized that it's a good deal more than mere entertainment. It's a profound commentary on the absence of respect permeating modern culture, a culture in which old fashioned work ethics, commitment, and loyalty have quite literally gone with the proverbial wind. I arrived at the theater showing a performance of Milk some thirty minutes early, wishing to choose my preferred seat and emotionally prepare for the unspooling of what I knew would be a profoundly moving emotional experience. As the time grew nearer to the picture's scheduled beginning, the theater had grown quite full. Two seats to my left remained empty. A middle aged Asian couple, presumably husband and wife, sat down next to me as the performance began. The couple appeared to be in their mid to late sixties, and I made a mental assumption that led me down the garden path. I presumed that being, perhaps, Chinese and older than myself, that their behavior would reflect both courtesy, culture and respect for those around them. The gentleman began talking to his wife incessantly, however, echoing or reacting verbally to every comment or situation in the film. I politely shushed the husband, and he refrained from speaking for a time. As the film escalated in its drama and intensity, he was moved to interpret and narrate his own vision of the story for his wife who sat in obligatory silence. I shushed him once more, and he sat forward in his seat addressing me directly. He told me to mind my own business, and suggested that if I didn't like his loud conversation with his wife that I should move my seat. I advised him that I had been there for quite a while before he decided to enter the auditorium late and sit down next to me. His incessant babble continued unabated, now directed solely at me for having the insensitivity to interrupt his "private" conversation. In exasperation, I yelled "Shut Up," and became instantly mortified by my own explosion of inner violence. I was upset, my concentration had been shattered, and the film nearly ruined until I decided to dwell instead on the sequence of events portrayed upon the screen and tune him out. He remained silent for the remainder of the film and its approaching climax, and I was once again lost in the magic of this spellbinding film. An incident occurred a week or two ago at a major theater in South Philadelphia, and was reported dutifully by the local media. A gentleman was watching a screening of the lovely Curious Case Of Benjamin Button when, in the row before him, a rather obnoxious family was providing their own narration for the film. The little boy, who evidently understood nor appreciated any of the proceedings, and was forced to accompany parents too cheap to pay for a baby sitter, asked his father to explain virtually every line of dialogue and sequence of events. When the patron, sitting alone, and trying to enjoy the film he had paid to see, asked the father to be quiet, insulting exchanges commenced. In frustration and anger, the lone theater-goer pulled out a gun and shot the father in the theater. While I cannot condone this shared insanity, I can understand the pent up rage that produced it. It was borne of contempt for the feeling of others, and disrespect for their privacy. People talk on cell phones, and text their friends, with utter disregard for the experience of others sitting beside them. The character portrayed by Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, not unlike the character of John T. Book (as essayed by John Wayne) in Don Siegel's The Shootist, found himself a stranger in a strange land, displaced by mediocrity and selfishness, railing against a culture of ignorance replacing the world of honor and integrity he had known. His own violence at the conclusion of the film, echoed by Eastwood's in Gran Torino, represented a moral dilemma felt personally during the unfortunate confrontation during Milk. Harvey Milk was committed to non-violence, and to preaching the spiritual truth that, despite our apparent differences, we are all alike and deserving of each other's respect. Yet, he did not allow himself to cower in fear when attacked for his principles. He stood courageously in defense of his beliefs, sacrificing his life in order to preserve justice within the fabric of morality and what is right. I felt ashamed in the darkened theater for having stooped to the level of mediocrity and selfishness shown by my neighbor in the adjoining seat. I believe in honor and peace, and yet I could not allow this blatant disrespect for my privacy and the rights of those around me to go unchallenged. I couldn't sacrifice my own integrity by ignoring the stupidity and moral deprivation invading my experience of the film. Brian Dennehey, during a live performance of Arthur Miller's Death Of A Salesman on Broadway, interrupted his monologue to confront an obnoxious patron who had been talking to his companion incessantly, telling the theater goer that his conversation was obviously more important than Arthur Miller's dialogue and that the actor would not continue his performance until everyone had been able to share in the wisdom and importance of the insensitive gentleman's personal comments and observations. The audience cheered, and the interrupted performance continued once more without further distraction. Rudeness, however universally practiced and taken for granted, is simply not acceptable behavior, either in this or any other year and, while I continue to brood over and question my own inner anger and sense of morality, I must continue to believe that respect and integrity in this difficult world must be preserved at all costs and consequences. Click on the icons for new features in The Thunder Child. Radiation Theater: 1950s Sci Fi Movies Discussion Boards The Sand Rock Sentinel: Ripped From the Headlines of 1950s Sci Fi Films

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