Movies: Most of us have forgotten Chicken Run, writes Alan Gilsenan
Which clearly was a mistake because that movie, about an unsung revolution by some loveable cartoon hens raging against the forces of capitalism, was at the core of an important new radical movement that's been creeping up on us for some time now. In retrospect, what seemed like the emotional detritus of Oscar-acceptance speeches turned out to be something far more serious indeed. Or, at least, according to Ben Dickenson, the author of this overview of the increasing politicisation of some of Hollywood's shining and shiny stars.
Haskell Wexler was big in the Dickenson family home. A genuinely radical left-wing film-maker, Wexler made a film called Medium Cool about the violent clashes between police and anti-Vietnam protesters at the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago. Dickenson tells us in his introduction that his own father "had protested with tens of thousands of others in London against America's war in Vietnam. Consequently he raved about Medium Cool and I became fascinated with the way that social and cinematic worlds could interact".
Dickenson patently loves film and he loves left-wing politics, but seemingly believes that you can't have one without the other.
Out there in Hollywood-land, apparently, there are hoards of radical types sneaking covert left-wing messages into mainstream movies, while sleepy fat-cat corporate types lounge by the pool. God bless their innocence but the fat-cats couldn't give a toss about the message as long as the bucks keep rolling in on opening weekend.
Dickenson's awkwardly written book essentially chronicles the role of leftish-leaning actors and directors in American cinema over the last quarter of a century and then calls it a movement. This is all done without any real critical perspective and a great deal of wide-eyed naivety.
Ben Dickenson's thesis (and I'm afraid it reads a little like one) highlights three movements in the genesis of what he calls the "New Progressives". Firstly, he focuses on "The Inheritance", embodied - for him at least - in Oliver Stone's landmark yuppie movie Wall Street. (Along with Ed Asner, Oliver Stone is something of a founding father to Dickenson's "New Progressives", which seems a little hard to reconcile with that particular director's image as a powder keg of rampant ego).
However, to return to the thesis, Wall Street is interpreted as an attack on Reagan's self-serving America, flawed in Dickenson's analysis by "reducing complex social situations to the actions of individual personalities" and enshrined here in the character of Gordon "lunch is for wimps" Gekko, memorably played by Michael Douglas. Paradoxically, this was also the era when the real-life Wall Street sharks took control of Hollywood from the good old-fashioned movie moguls.
The second phase in the evolution of this supposed new radicalism occurred when the Hollywood movie liberals were courted by their old bed-fellows in the Democratic Party, and their new kid on the political block, Bill Clinton. Flattered and seduced by the possibility of a sleepover in the White House, they were happy to row in with glittering endorsements and cheesy photo- opportunities. Clinton was a beacon of progressive hope for the liberal agenda, but ultimately, the author argues, the liberals were disappointed by the new president's failure to deliver on key issues. Clinton, the save-the-world hero of Independence Day becomes Clinton the phony Potus of Wag The Dog.
The eruption of protest at the G8 Summit in Seattle in November 1999 signaled the birth of a third and more radicalised phase in the emergence of Ben Dickenson's "New Progressives". Disillusion with Clinton and the Democratic Party gave way to a new wave of activism within certain sections of the Hollywood intelligentsia.
Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon, the king and queen of the New Progressives, were part of the peaceful protest in Seattle and since have been passionately associated with the anti-globalisation movement, the anti-Iraq war movement, and many other liberal concerns, while Robbins wrote and directed Cradle Will Rock, a powerful drama about the suppression of the left-wing Federal Theatre in 1930s New York.
The Robbins/Sarandon household also supported the Green Party's presidential nominee and wildcard Ralph Nader in the 2000 election. (Democrats would later argue that Nader's vainglorious and futile campaign simply made it even easier for the Republicans and George W Bush to steal that election from Al Gore).
Other members of the Church of New Progressives include Martin Sheen, Paul Newman, Sean Penn, Danny Glover, Richard Gere, Woody Harrelson, George Clooney, Warren Beatty and, of course, the pin-up boy of new radicalism, Michael Moore.
George Clooney, despite his lingering affection for the Democratic Party, is set to be this year's star disciple, with Oscar nominations for his performance in Syrana and for writing and directing Goodnight and Good Luck, an exploration of power and responsibility during the golden dawn of television . (By the way - to introduce a parochial note - Bono, who recently graced the cover of Time magazine, is a sort of Patron Saint of New Progression).
Anyway, Dickenson summarises his view: "This new Hollywood left, with its newfound confidence that Tim Robbins demonstrated in 2003, is just that - new! What we can be certain of is that as the new social force of anti-capitalism has emerged, so Hollywood's progressive talent has come to life . . ." And later he concludes (somewhat lamely): " . . . in 25 years of recent history a variety of social eruptions have continued to interact with the life of the American cinema, and in that time Hollywood progressives have never yet left town." (One is tempted to ask where else they would go. "Booneville's New Radicalism" anyone?)
It is hard to take them seriously, these "New Progressives", with their right-on opinions and their cosseted lifestyles. Yet it's hard to be cynical about them either. Disabled by success and marginalised by wealth, they struggle valiantly on in the name of justice and in whatever they believe, while we sit smug and idly by, munching our popcorn or flicking through our cheap magazines. Damned if they do and damned if they don't, that sort of thing.
For all we know, they probably are sincere in their beliefs, in their passion for change and their capacity for hope. But if they are genuine - and I suspect and pray that they are - they certainly deserve better than this dull and pedantic book.
But this is unfair. Ben Dickenson is a believer, in both the power of cinema and the potential for political change, and although this book displays a certain naivety of thought and clumsiness of style, there's something in this belief and in his commitment to the ideas and proponents of "Hollywood's New Radicalism" that is endearing. New ideas that challenge the accepted norms need believers and, in that respect at least, Dickenson demonstrates some facility.
Hollywood's New Radicalism: War, Globalisation and the Movies from Reagan to George W Bush By Ben Dickenson, IB Tauris, 202pp. £14.99
Alan Gilsenan is a film-maker and theatre director. His two-part documentary, The Legend of Liam Clancy, will be shown on RTÉ 1 in March, while his production of Samuel Beckett's Footfalls will run at the Barbican Theatre, London, and Dublin's Gate Theatre in April.