The Liberty Film Festival, 3

My husband and I convoyed to the Liberty Film Festival today. He was going early and leaving early, and I was going late—and knew I might stay late.

So he saw the first two films, which looked fascinating: Borrowed Fire, by Salil Singh, and Relentless: The Struggle for Peace in the Middle East. I felt bad about my late arrival, but I 1) overslept; 2) had to water the plants, which were languishing after days of neglect; 3) had to make some turkey sandwiches we could sneak into the theater for lunch; 4) was blinded by the sun, and overwhelmed by four opponents; 5) had my homework consumed by the house canine; and/or 6) thought it was the thing to do at the time.

I got there in time for Brainwashing 101, which was a rough/partial cut of Evan Maloney's expose on political bias in academia. Maloney and his equally brilliant cohorts have started a website that keeps students abreast of political correctness and other evidence of bias, and actively solicits their contributions for the feature form of the movie. It's a clever idea, actually.

One of the things that helps Maloney is that he is not a fire-breathing wingnut; he's a reasonable guy who just wants to see a little more dialogue, a little more rationality in the public debate. In other words, one senses he'd be interested in the excesses of the right, if he had the feeling they were being shoved down commoners' throats.

A panel discussion followed regarding the "new Hollywood blacklist," and this event included David Zucker, Michael Medved, Doug Urbanski, Morgan Brittany, Andrew Breitbart and Dan Gifford. The colorful-if-unrestrained Jim Hirsen (Tales from the Left Coast) moderated. The discussion included a mini-debate about whether the right-oriented media "lock out" dissenting views (e.g., should Waco: Rules of Engagement have attained more notice on talk radio?) and the issue of whether libertarian/conservative/WOT-supporting flimmakers should attempt to climb up within the existing industry structure, or build a parallel system that would allow them to bypass the "filtering" function of studio executives (who are often some of the, um, most limited people on the planet).

The only concensus appeared to be on the idea that the current "blacklist" is not one of names, but rather one of philosophy and ideas.

The surprise of the evening was Michael Moore Hates America, which was badly named. Director Mike Wilson picked a provocative title, and one that reflected his anger at a fellow midwesterner who appeared to slam his homeland, but the finished movie is a shockingly balanced look at Moore's work. It's also a meditative piece on Wildon's own life and history, and whether it's possible to tell the truth entirely when filming a documentary. Penn Jilette of Penn & Teller appears as the sort of angel who exhorts Wilson to tell the truth, no matter what, and not let the ends justify the means. (The carrot appears to be Wilson's desire not to turn into Michael Moore himself; the stick is Jilette's exhortation at the end not to distort his own views, or "I'll hunt you down and kill you.")

It's a beautiful film, but just the opposite of what you expect from hearing the title.

After this, my husband had to get home to conquer a few deadlines. I walked him most of the way to his car and got back to the theater just as they were dimming the lights.

This was for Impact: The Passion of the Christ, which discussed Passion, but also the effect it had on people worldwide. The documentary's stance is aggressively Christian. It was an affecting movie, but I think I prefer filmmakers who work in more shades of gray. Still, it was solid and informative: it visits the debate over anti-Semitism while also sharing stories of religious revival and the redemption of people's lives. If you're looking for a frankly joyful celebration of Christianity, this is your cup of latte. If not, there's still plenty of information in it.

There was a short break, during which I stalked Michael Medved in the lobby until he gallantly agreed to a two-minute interview just before he was due on stage. The evening ended with a showing of The Ten Commandments, which was introduced by Medved and included a short statement by Lisa Mitchell, who played one of Jethro's daughters and had a few words about how Cecil B. DeMille changed her life and her political philosophy.

I confess I tended to view the movie as a civil rights movie rather than a Cold War parable, but I see that it works as either. And though people were tired, they still clapped whenever Heston needed to stand tall and lay down the law.

I know everyone's going to get mad at me, but The Ten Commandments also works as soft-core porn: you end up seeing a fair amount of the young Heston's body, and a non-trivial amount of Yul Brynner skin. This worked fine as well.

More later. I'll be starting to post those interviews tomorrow; in the meantime it'll take me all week to get onto a non-vampiric sleep schedule. If, in fact, that happens at all.