Even though I had know idea what the hell Roger Waters was getting at, as an angst filled teenager I felt the foundation of the establishment tremble in the wake of his rebellious ramblings within the lyrics of “Sheep,” from Pink Floyd’s 1977 satirical sound scape, “Animals.” When Waters resurrected the song for his 2006/2007 “Dark Side of the Moon” world tour, he used it to comment on the brooding political storm as the Bush era was coming to a controversial close. During the song, the famous Pink Floyd flying pig was introduced to a new generation of Floyd fans. Anyone who has attended a Waters concert understands that three quarters of the show is about rock and roll, and the remaining quarter is about his extreme left wing politics. Perhaps images speak louder than words…
http://www.the-emperor-has-no-clothes.com/images/pig2.jpg
http://californiafaultline.files.wordpress.com/2008/04/coachella_sunday_37_pig_blimp.jpg
http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2418/2451734690_8741f957dd.jpg?v=0
http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/10892169.jpg
…and if you were there, regardless of your political affiliations, it was difficult not to get caught up in the fervor of the crowd. But still, words – particularly the words of Waters’ compositions, dripped from the lips of Waters’ fan base as they sung along to a song that had not been preformed by Waters or the Gilmour led Pink Floyd for thirty years. To understand the significance of this resurrection, an explication of the lyrics is necessary.
Waters obviously intended sheep as a pseudonym for the blind patriotism of the far right moral majority. The connotation of the word in his song drums up the religious imagery of Christ as the divine shepherd, and waters brazenly alludes to this in his mockery of the twenty-third psalm within the song. Waters begins by painting a picture of an oblivious society too used to living well on the pasture of apathy.
“Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away / Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.”
I always find it astounding that the Obama detractors are the same people who buttoned their lips during the obvious failure of George W. Bush’s presidency. The opening line of “Sheep” does not only illustrate the shameless denial of America’s right wing in the face of America’s arguably worst president, but also exemplifies Bush’s own obliviousness to the threat of terrorism. The verse continues with…
“You better watch out / There may be dogs about / I have looked over Jordan and I have seen / Things are not what they seem”
The first line of the second verse asks the question that was on the tip of my tongue immediately following the terrorist attacks of 9/11…
“What do you get for pretending the danger’s not real?”
And even after Bush’s bungled immediate response to America’s most deadly attack on continental soil, the right wing fanatics did exactly what Waters penned next…
“Meek and obedient you follow the leader down well trodden corridors into the valley of steel”
And the verse concludes with a hauntingly appropriate description of blind patriotic bravado…
“What a surprise / A look of terminal shock in your eyes / Now things are really what they seem / No, this is no bad dream”
After a considerably and uncomfortably long instrumental passage, Waters defiles scripture with the following sacrilege…
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want / He makes me down to lie / Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by /With bright knives He releaseth my soul / He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places / He converteth me to lamb cutlets,For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger / When cometh the day we lowly ones / Through quiet reflection, and great dedication / Master the art of karate / Lo, we shall rise up / And then we'll make the bugger's eyes water.”
…and I’m not even touching that. Besides, what comes in the last verse is what I consider to be the most haunting and controversial verse of the song. Please, if you come from a military background and have voted Republican your entire life because you buy into the notion that only under a Republican can the American military successfully protect us from the evil axis, stop reading now. Seriously.
The final verse of “Sheep” reads like a commentary on war: its purpose, the negative consequences it has on young American soldiers who witness the worst of humanity, the unquestioning loyalty of extremists, the profits paid in blood to war profiteers, the division of a people clinging to a fledgling democracy, the gross misinterpretation of the constitution, the vulgar hypocrisy of the think tanks that want you to believe individuals who protest war do not support the plight of soldiers who enlisted to protect freedom, democracy, and the American dream, and the psychological damage and post traumatic stress for everyone involved – the soldiers, their families, the civilians, and the psyche of a nation. In the aftermath of the attack, Waters writes that…
“Bleating and babbling we fell on his neck with a scream.”
And didn’t we? Are there more than a handful of Americans who can honestly say that they did not call upon George W. Bush to punish someone, anyone, who might have been responsible for the terrorist attacks on 9/11? Did we not believe justice should have come swiftly and tenfold? Did we think about the ramifications of war? I find the next line to pretty much sum up the ugliness that the war in Iraq has become.
“Wave upon wave of demented avengers march cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.”
This line inspires its own essay. In an attempt to keep it brief, I will stay this – and this may piss you off depending on what you consider to be sacred – with the fulfillment of each tour of duty, our demented avengers return to a society which misunderstands them, a society that makes heroes out of cowards and cowards out of heroes, a society that seems to no longer understand what the dream is, or what it was, or that it has become a nightmare in which no patriot will allow themselves to awaken from. The men and women who enlisted as a means to get through college, or as a way to keep their family financially stable enough to live the dream, to have the big house and three car garage within the picket fence which harbors the 3.2 children from the dangers of the American streets, these ordinary human beings, our neighbors, relatives, and friends, these once obscure faces among the shepherds tending the flocks have bled into a demented type of celebrity, heroes for a cause no one is sure about anymore, and no one wants to admit to. We, they, all of us are the sheep. And perhaps the sickest punch line to this joke is that it took an aging rock star and a pig to get the attention of a generation so baffled beyond functionality that they, without question, pledge allegiance to a man with a bass guitar who made an entire rock opera based on three chords, they pledge this allegiance through the dope-smoke haze aglow in aggressive stage lights, flickering and beaming to accentuate the trivial scribblings on an inflatable sow, lead just as easily as the far right into the far left, my God is there no salvation? And just as we are about to abandon hope, the news from Murdochs’ emporium of insanity scrolls across the screen…
“Have you heard the news? / The dogs are dead / You better stay home and do as you’re told / Get out of the road if you want to grow old.”
8/11/09
8/2/09
WAR IS NOT HEALTHY FOR CHILDREN OR OTHER LIVING THINGS… But it makes for some profound pop-art
War results in terrible things. In spite of its occasional merit, its arguable inevitability, the solutions and resolutions it can result in, and the possible undesirable outcome which sometimes concludes it, war is a catalyst for provocative, meaningful art. Consider the era of the Vietnam Conflict. Some of history’s greatest films were a product of its disillusion. There is a relevant argument that only art can truly bring the catastrophes of war into tangibility for a culture. Art forces people to confront issues they may otherwise write off as trivial. It forces them to see the other side of an argument they might otherwise never change their position on. Since the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, and the downward spiral the war in Iraq appears to be on, popular film has once again taken on the heart of issues journalism and philosophy sometimes fail to report or comprehend. Films like M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village, Matt Reeves’ Cloverfield, Frank Darabont’s The Mist, and Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Night unflinchingly satirize the issues that endanger our crumbling democracy in the face of combating terror.
Shyamalan’s The Village was doomed to be misunderstood when Touchstone Pictures decided to market the movie as a conventional horror film with a trademark Shyamalan twist. Upon its immediate release, the buzz about The Village morphed from confusion to negativity. Sadly, I hypothesize that a great deal of the American public who bashed the film did not understand what the confusion was: and the confusion was and still is us, the people who carry the burden of preserving this endangered democracy. Yes, it is understandable that the American moviegoer expects to be entertained; what has been lost since the Hollywood Renaissance circa 1960 – 1980 is the idea that we are to entertain the possibility that what we’ve witnessed could possibly be a commentary on life beyond celluloid. In order to do so, consider The Village’s symbolic representation of what is happening in our culture.
In the case of The Village, the symbolism is hardly buried in the visual text. The plot is the most obvious device in Shyamalan’s film; a story about an extremely conservative society which has been paralyzed by the fear of what lurks beyond its borders. The society within the village adheres to strict, ritualistic guidelines which assure the citizens that the borders will not be breeched by the enemy. If it does not sound plausible that Shyamalan’s intention was to comment on the impact of terrorist threat, consider the color pallet of the film. When the villagers must travel near or beyond the border of their settlement, they are instructed to wear yellow robes. The characters call yellow the “safe color.” Yet when wearing the yellow hoods, the characters approach the travel situation with heightened caution and trepidation. The villagers recognize the color red as the “bad color.” The color represents the creatures that live in the woods beyond the border of the village. The director contrived the color pallet as a means of tapping the audience on the shoulder and saying, “Ever hear of the Homeland Security Advisory System?” According to the system, when the threat level is at yellow, the level is elevated; there is a significant risk of terrorist attack. When the color coded system reaches red, travel – particularly foreign travel – is strongly discouraged. It is equally difficult not to wonder if the fact that the village’s leader, a man named Walker, who by the way has two daughters, is a tongue in cheek reference to America’s beloved W. And if so, this is where Shyamalan achieves total greatness.
Much of the American public who scoffed at Shyamalan’s film did so because the plausibility of Shyamalan’s ridiculous plot seemed preposterous. Yet, this is the America we live in. This is the America we’ve become since 9/11. So the question is this: if the average American refused to buy what Shyamalan was selling, how did a man like George W. Bush get elected twice? How is it that America responds to the Homeland Security Advisory System without so much as a huge WTF? And perhaps this is what really pissed the audience off. The joke was on them. Yet, Hollywood cashed in at the box office with two other low budget/high grossing successes with social commentary just as blatant as Shyamalan’s movie, the first of which was much more easily accepted and embraced by the same public who lambasted The Village.
Matt Reeve’s Cloverfield faired well at the box office. The cross over action adventure/sci-fi/horror film garnered high praises at the theater and impressive DVD sales after the theatrical run. How can this be accounted for? For one, it did not premiere until 2008. At this point, George Bush’s approval rating had gone down the tubes and public opinion about the lingering war in Iraq had shifted from blind patriotism to outspoken disapproval. Cloverfield fed off the changing tide of the public’s dissatisfaction. The commentary in Cloverfield was also buried deeper in the action of the film and the motivation of the movie’s gargantuan villain. The first report of the creature’s attack was of an oil rig being overturned in New York’s harbor: subtle commentary there. Next, the monster goes on to decapitate the Statue of Liberty, a mammoth symbol of America’s democracy. When the military are brought in to destroy the enemy, the battle is much more difficult that one would anticipate. A conventional barrage of aggressive military action was not enough to defeat what seemed to be an enemy that could easily be destroyed in spite of the massive threat it posed to America’s most weary city. It is also conceivable, given the disaster in New Orleans, that the nation’s military was spread too thin due to other conflicts. After all, the last thing the American Military could imagine being deployed for would be an unforeseeable disaster on American soil. In addition to the plot devices Reeves’ employed to tell his story, there is the unmistakable style in which the story was told.
The film’s first person narrative through the single video camera of a stander-by insinuates that perhaps the only truth behind a story can be told by the protagonists caught in the disaster. Government reports on the handling of the New Orleans disaster were greatly disputed by the residents who lived through the event. Surprisingly, especially after audiences’ negative reaction to Shyamalan’s twist ending, audiences were much more accepting of Reeves’ open ended conclusion. Reeves offered no resolution to the problem. The audience is led to believe that there is no salvation for the characters that they came to care for during the course of the film. And for the most part, audiences were fine with it. And why shouldn’t they have been? The conflict America is currently in the midst of has no ready resolution in sight. Perhaps the one thing that is shocking about the audience’s reaction to a film makers’ commentary is the mixed, if not mostly negative reaction to Frank Darabont’s The Mist, another film which chronicles an unexplainable disaster brought upon by mysterious creatures from another dimension.
Frank Darabont took Stephen King’s short story, The Mist, and beefed it up into what one could arguably identify as a two hour promotional reel for Hilary Clinton as president. One major theme that the movie touches upon is the failure of men to lead stunned civilians through an unprecedented disaster. Women are the true leaders and innovators in the film. Much like Shaymalan’s picture, The Mist was criticized for its plausibility. Is it really possible for human beings living in an age where technology is so advanced that weaponry beyond our wildest speculations could be left so helpless? Could they really be so clueless as to fail to find a means of rescue for themselves? If you find this hard to believe, again, I direct your attention to the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. In addition to this, Darabont paints a disturbing picture of how the far fanatical right wing moral majority are perhaps the greatest threat to democracy and civil liberty than any terrorist attack.
Marcia Gay Harden’s portrayal of the character Mrs. Carmody riveted theater goers into screaming at the silver screen. Her anti-climactic demise brought forth a burst of cheers from the audience I was sitting with during the second week of the movie’s theatrical run. And I’m sure that some of those spectators voted some of the same people into office that Pat Robinson funded. Darabont dared to do the same trick Shaymalan used in The Village: remove the audience enough from reality as a means of forcing them to confront a political issue they would typically support and make them see the folly in the character’s motivation. Darabont did this brilliantly. But he didn’t stop there. His criticism of the far left liberals was equally scorching. Bad decision after bad decision by Mrs. Carmody’s adversaries resulted in the protagonists finding themselves in the same dire situation in spite of their good intentions and liberal positions. And by the time the film reaches its remarkably shocking conclusion (which I will not spoil, but will say that it is easily the ballsiest, jaw dropping conclusion that I’ve seen to a film since the 1970s) the liberal party find themselves in what is an equally, if not more discombobulated state than their conservative counterparts. Interestingly enough, the final film in this analysis does something that its predecessors did not do as effectively; it presents the position of the conservative viewpoint and dares the viewer to consider the merit in conservative thinking, and allows the viewer to decide if the middle of the road is perhaps the safest place to be. Another film that challenges the viewer to take the mid-road perspective fared far better at the box office than The Mist, and won an Academy Award.
Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Night touches on a controversial topic. Nolan’s film doesn’t question the Patriot Act and its ramifications; it asks the viewer to question the ethics of the Patriot Act. Gotham City is besieged by a terrorist named The Joker. The Joker threatens to kill innocent citizens everyday until the masked super-vigilante turns himself in. Unable to risk exposure, Batman presses on in pursuit of The Joker. At one point, in attempt to protect the citizens of Gotham City, Batman uses technology which enables him to locate an individual by tracing the location of all the cell phones in the city. This is a gross violation of civil liberty, yet, it assists Mr. Wayne in finding The Joker and keeping Gotham City safe. Obviously, many liberals have watched and loved this movie. Though they may criticize George W. Bush and his tactics in combating terrorism, I’m sure they cheered Batman on as he captured his foe. And this is what good art should do; make the viewer question their own code of ethics and whether or not they actually understand what it is they love or hate about their respective parties, and whether or not they should be so easily partial because of party lines. Many of the same liberals who lashed out at conservatives for voting based on what left wingers would call non-issues, and many of those same liberals are one issue voters, and for most of them, their one issue is that they hated George W. Bush.
The most important thing art in the early twenty-first century can do is make us question everything. It is easy to get caught up in what appears to be symbolic propaganda, but many times when an artist appears to be supporting an issue, their true intention is to get people thinking about the issue, not to convince them to wear the issue as a mantle. In any case, twenty-first century Hollywood appears to be in the midst of a new renaissance. The bold social commentary of recent films has made a successful cross-over from the small indie-scene to the mainstream blockbusters, and this is a good thing. Many other mainstream movies are addressing issues with the intent of making the viewer think: Watchmen, though originally created to comment of the cold war fears of the 1980’s, touches upon a great deal of modern cultural and political concerns… but that my friends is its own essay, coming soon. If you do not have a tendency to watch films closely, I suggest you strive to see beyond the barrier of plot and mechanics. Even the film Orphan slipped a tongue-in-cheek cultural joke. When the couple is unable to bear a third child, they refuse to stop trying and eventually adopt a child. The third child seems to be the one who tipped the scales of balance in their home: the couples’ names are John and Kate. Films are fun and entertaining, but the modern film seems to want to re-introduce the notion that they can be intellectually stimulating as well, and that being intellectually stimulated is fun. And it is. And please understand, the issue that endangers our democracy is not the solitary issue that threatens us, it is America’s irresponsibility of not thinking outside the box which is the most horrific threat.
Shyamalan’s The Village was doomed to be misunderstood when Touchstone Pictures decided to market the movie as a conventional horror film with a trademark Shyamalan twist. Upon its immediate release, the buzz about The Village morphed from confusion to negativity. Sadly, I hypothesize that a great deal of the American public who bashed the film did not understand what the confusion was: and the confusion was and still is us, the people who carry the burden of preserving this endangered democracy. Yes, it is understandable that the American moviegoer expects to be entertained; what has been lost since the Hollywood Renaissance circa 1960 – 1980 is the idea that we are to entertain the possibility that what we’ve witnessed could possibly be a commentary on life beyond celluloid. In order to do so, consider The Village’s symbolic representation of what is happening in our culture.
In the case of The Village, the symbolism is hardly buried in the visual text. The plot is the most obvious device in Shyamalan’s film; a story about an extremely conservative society which has been paralyzed by the fear of what lurks beyond its borders. The society within the village adheres to strict, ritualistic guidelines which assure the citizens that the borders will not be breeched by the enemy. If it does not sound plausible that Shyamalan’s intention was to comment on the impact of terrorist threat, consider the color pallet of the film. When the villagers must travel near or beyond the border of their settlement, they are instructed to wear yellow robes. The characters call yellow the “safe color.” Yet when wearing the yellow hoods, the characters approach the travel situation with heightened caution and trepidation. The villagers recognize the color red as the “bad color.” The color represents the creatures that live in the woods beyond the border of the village. The director contrived the color pallet as a means of tapping the audience on the shoulder and saying, “Ever hear of the Homeland Security Advisory System?” According to the system, when the threat level is at yellow, the level is elevated; there is a significant risk of terrorist attack. When the color coded system reaches red, travel – particularly foreign travel – is strongly discouraged. It is equally difficult not to wonder if the fact that the village’s leader, a man named Walker, who by the way has two daughters, is a tongue in cheek reference to America’s beloved W. And if so, this is where Shyamalan achieves total greatness.
Much of the American public who scoffed at Shyamalan’s film did so because the plausibility of Shyamalan’s ridiculous plot seemed preposterous. Yet, this is the America we live in. This is the America we’ve become since 9/11. So the question is this: if the average American refused to buy what Shyamalan was selling, how did a man like George W. Bush get elected twice? How is it that America responds to the Homeland Security Advisory System without so much as a huge WTF? And perhaps this is what really pissed the audience off. The joke was on them. Yet, Hollywood cashed in at the box office with two other low budget/high grossing successes with social commentary just as blatant as Shyamalan’s movie, the first of which was much more easily accepted and embraced by the same public who lambasted The Village.
Matt Reeve’s Cloverfield faired well at the box office. The cross over action adventure/sci-fi/horror film garnered high praises at the theater and impressive DVD sales after the theatrical run. How can this be accounted for? For one, it did not premiere until 2008. At this point, George Bush’s approval rating had gone down the tubes and public opinion about the lingering war in Iraq had shifted from blind patriotism to outspoken disapproval. Cloverfield fed off the changing tide of the public’s dissatisfaction. The commentary in Cloverfield was also buried deeper in the action of the film and the motivation of the movie’s gargantuan villain. The first report of the creature’s attack was of an oil rig being overturned in New York’s harbor: subtle commentary there. Next, the monster goes on to decapitate the Statue of Liberty, a mammoth symbol of America’s democracy. When the military are brought in to destroy the enemy, the battle is much more difficult that one would anticipate. A conventional barrage of aggressive military action was not enough to defeat what seemed to be an enemy that could easily be destroyed in spite of the massive threat it posed to America’s most weary city. It is also conceivable, given the disaster in New Orleans, that the nation’s military was spread too thin due to other conflicts. After all, the last thing the American Military could imagine being deployed for would be an unforeseeable disaster on American soil. In addition to the plot devices Reeves’ employed to tell his story, there is the unmistakable style in which the story was told.
The film’s first person narrative through the single video camera of a stander-by insinuates that perhaps the only truth behind a story can be told by the protagonists caught in the disaster. Government reports on the handling of the New Orleans disaster were greatly disputed by the residents who lived through the event. Surprisingly, especially after audiences’ negative reaction to Shyamalan’s twist ending, audiences were much more accepting of Reeves’ open ended conclusion. Reeves offered no resolution to the problem. The audience is led to believe that there is no salvation for the characters that they came to care for during the course of the film. And for the most part, audiences were fine with it. And why shouldn’t they have been? The conflict America is currently in the midst of has no ready resolution in sight. Perhaps the one thing that is shocking about the audience’s reaction to a film makers’ commentary is the mixed, if not mostly negative reaction to Frank Darabont’s The Mist, another film which chronicles an unexplainable disaster brought upon by mysterious creatures from another dimension.
Frank Darabont took Stephen King’s short story, The Mist, and beefed it up into what one could arguably identify as a two hour promotional reel for Hilary Clinton as president. One major theme that the movie touches upon is the failure of men to lead stunned civilians through an unprecedented disaster. Women are the true leaders and innovators in the film. Much like Shaymalan’s picture, The Mist was criticized for its plausibility. Is it really possible for human beings living in an age where technology is so advanced that weaponry beyond our wildest speculations could be left so helpless? Could they really be so clueless as to fail to find a means of rescue for themselves? If you find this hard to believe, again, I direct your attention to the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. In addition to this, Darabont paints a disturbing picture of how the far fanatical right wing moral majority are perhaps the greatest threat to democracy and civil liberty than any terrorist attack.
Marcia Gay Harden’s portrayal of the character Mrs. Carmody riveted theater goers into screaming at the silver screen. Her anti-climactic demise brought forth a burst of cheers from the audience I was sitting with during the second week of the movie’s theatrical run. And I’m sure that some of those spectators voted some of the same people into office that Pat Robinson funded. Darabont dared to do the same trick Shaymalan used in The Village: remove the audience enough from reality as a means of forcing them to confront a political issue they would typically support and make them see the folly in the character’s motivation. Darabont did this brilliantly. But he didn’t stop there. His criticism of the far left liberals was equally scorching. Bad decision after bad decision by Mrs. Carmody’s adversaries resulted in the protagonists finding themselves in the same dire situation in spite of their good intentions and liberal positions. And by the time the film reaches its remarkably shocking conclusion (which I will not spoil, but will say that it is easily the ballsiest, jaw dropping conclusion that I’ve seen to a film since the 1970s) the liberal party find themselves in what is an equally, if not more discombobulated state than their conservative counterparts. Interestingly enough, the final film in this analysis does something that its predecessors did not do as effectively; it presents the position of the conservative viewpoint and dares the viewer to consider the merit in conservative thinking, and allows the viewer to decide if the middle of the road is perhaps the safest place to be. Another film that challenges the viewer to take the mid-road perspective fared far better at the box office than The Mist, and won an Academy Award.
Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Night touches on a controversial topic. Nolan’s film doesn’t question the Patriot Act and its ramifications; it asks the viewer to question the ethics of the Patriot Act. Gotham City is besieged by a terrorist named The Joker. The Joker threatens to kill innocent citizens everyday until the masked super-vigilante turns himself in. Unable to risk exposure, Batman presses on in pursuit of The Joker. At one point, in attempt to protect the citizens of Gotham City, Batman uses technology which enables him to locate an individual by tracing the location of all the cell phones in the city. This is a gross violation of civil liberty, yet, it assists Mr. Wayne in finding The Joker and keeping Gotham City safe. Obviously, many liberals have watched and loved this movie. Though they may criticize George W. Bush and his tactics in combating terrorism, I’m sure they cheered Batman on as he captured his foe. And this is what good art should do; make the viewer question their own code of ethics and whether or not they actually understand what it is they love or hate about their respective parties, and whether or not they should be so easily partial because of party lines. Many of the same liberals who lashed out at conservatives for voting based on what left wingers would call non-issues, and many of those same liberals are one issue voters, and for most of them, their one issue is that they hated George W. Bush.
The most important thing art in the early twenty-first century can do is make us question everything. It is easy to get caught up in what appears to be symbolic propaganda, but many times when an artist appears to be supporting an issue, their true intention is to get people thinking about the issue, not to convince them to wear the issue as a mantle. In any case, twenty-first century Hollywood appears to be in the midst of a new renaissance. The bold social commentary of recent films has made a successful cross-over from the small indie-scene to the mainstream blockbusters, and this is a good thing. Many other mainstream movies are addressing issues with the intent of making the viewer think: Watchmen, though originally created to comment of the cold war fears of the 1980’s, touches upon a great deal of modern cultural and political concerns… but that my friends is its own essay, coming soon. If you do not have a tendency to watch films closely, I suggest you strive to see beyond the barrier of plot and mechanics. Even the film Orphan slipped a tongue-in-cheek cultural joke. When the couple is unable to bear a third child, they refuse to stop trying and eventually adopt a child. The third child seems to be the one who tipped the scales of balance in their home: the couples’ names are John and Kate. Films are fun and entertaining, but the modern film seems to want to re-introduce the notion that they can be intellectually stimulating as well, and that being intellectually stimulated is fun. And it is. And please understand, the issue that endangers our democracy is not the solitary issue that threatens us, it is America’s irresponsibility of not thinking outside the box which is the most horrific threat.
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