Not as tight as Rosenbaum’s best work, Movies As Politics suffers from long stretches of dense scholarly pieces of academic interest and little else, and shorter stretches of reviewing blockbusters that are well outside his wheelhouse.
Rosenbaum can struggle to find his way into a film like Star Wars, in a similar way to how Roger Ebert can struggle to find his way in to now beloved genre or arthouse classics. Both men are talented writers not lacking in due diligence, but in these cases each hits a tone of “confused and treading water”.
With those caveats out of the way, even an uneven book by the greatest film critic of all time is pretty dang good. No matter what you’re interested in film criticism for, this book has it. Appreciations? I read the review of Three: Colors Red aloud to my father (a fellow disciple) and he was literally applauding from the couch. Pans more your cup of tea? His piece on Ace Ventura Pet Detective constitutes the only good essay owning millennials( “It’s easy to imagine that “Generation Y” will be defined by the video games they played, and “Generation Z” by their software programs”). What about nuanced takes™? Rosenbaum’s reading of Schindler’s List as the moving work of a conflicted jew who often identifies with gentiles is fascinating. I didn’t have to wait long for my favorite, catty sniping at other critics. In the first piece after the introduction Rosenbaum sets critics straight for not seeing the right things in Do the Right Thing.
The survey of Nicholas Ray’s oeuvre (tracing his lineage in every major director of the French New Wave) is the best piece of writing in the book. But the one that will stick with me the most is Rosenbaum’s pan of Mississippi Burning:
”The time in my youth when I was most physically afraid was a period of six weeks, during the summer of 1961, when I was 18. I was attending an interracial, coed camp at Highlander Folk School in Monteagle, Tennessee — the place where the Montgomery bus boycott, the proper beginning of the civil rights movement, was planned by Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks in the mid-50s. As a white native of Alabama, I had never before experienced the everyday dangers faced by southern blacks, much less those faced by activists who participated in Freedom Rides and similar demonstrations. But that summer, my coed camp was beset by people armed with rocks and guns.
I believe that we were the first group of people who ever sang an old hymn called “We Shall Overcome” as a civil rights anthem, thanks to the efforts of the camp’s musical director, Guy Carawan. But the songs, powerful as they were, weren’t the main thing that kept us together; it was the fear of dying”
I read those words the day America elected Donald Trump for a second time.
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