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How Mel Gibson helped to turn us into
Nazis
Jonathan Foreman On The Secret Fascism Of The
Patriot
The Guardian, July 10, 2000
The week before The Patriot opened in America,
the British press lit up with furious headlines. Truth is
first casualty in Hollywood's war,' read one in the Daily
Telegraph. Another story, about the historical model for Mel
Gibson's character, was headed: The secret shame of Mel's new
hero.' The articles complained that this epic about the War of American
Independence portrays British redcoats as bloodthirsty and unprincipled
stormtroopers' and bloodthirsty child-killers'.
The historian and biographer Andrew Roberts called the film racist' in
the Daily Express, and pointed out that it was only the latest in a
series of films such as Titanic, Michael Collins and The
Jungle Book remake that have depicted the British as
treacherous, cowardly, evil (and) sadistic'. Roberts had a
theory: With their own record of killing 12m American Indians
and supporting slavery for four decades after the British abolished it,
Americans wish to project their historical guilt onto someone else.'
I can only imagine how much angrier Fleet
Street's pundits will be once they have actually seen the
movie. When The Patriot opens on Friday, Britons will see a
supposedly authentic historical epic that radically rewrites
history. It does so by casting George III's redcoats as
cartoonish paragons of evil. If you didn't know anything about the
revolution, you might actually believe the British army was made up of
demonic sadists who committed one atrocity after another.
The Patriot is well made and often exciting. But
it is disturbing in a way that many weaker, dumber films are
not. It's not just that it distorts history in a way that goes
way beyond Hollywood's traditional poetic licence; it's the
strange, primitive politics that seem to underlie that
distortion. The Patriot doesn't get' patriotism in either the modern
or the 18th-century sense of the word. The only memorable political
sentiment voiced comes when Gibson's character declares that he sees no
advantage in replacing the tyranny of one man 3,000 miles away for the
tyranny of 3,000 men one mile away. The deliberate lacuna demonstrates
a lack of understanding of, or even a hostility to, the patriotic
politics that motivated the founding fathers. You could even
argue without too much exaggeration that The Patriot is as
fascist a film (and I use the term in its literal sense, not
as a synonym for bad') as anything made in decades. It's even
more fascist than Fight Club.
The Patriot presents a deeply sentimental cult of
the family, casts unusually Aryan-looking heroes and avoids
any democratic or political context in its portrayal of the
revolution. Instead, it offers a story in which the desire for
blood vengeance for a son shot by a British officer turns
Gibson's character into a patriot'. Meanwhile, the imagery piles
up: blond pre-teens are turned into the equivalent of the Third Reich's
boy-soldiers; Gibson becomes one of those bloodied, axe-wielding
supermen so beloved in Nazi folk iconography; and the black
population of South Carolina where the film is set are
generally depicted as happy, loyal slaves, or equally happy
(and unlikely) freedmen.
But the most disturbing thing about The Patriot
is not just that German director Roland Emmerich (director of
the jingoistic Independence Day) and screenwriter Robert Rodat
(who was criticised for excluding British and other Allied
soldiers from Saving Private Ryan) depict British troops
as committing atrocities, but that these bear such a resemblance to war
crimes by German troops particularly the SS in the second world war.
In one scene in The Patriot, the British regulars murder wounded
American POWs. In another, they order the execution of an
American soldier captured in uniform. Such crimes were common
on the eastern front of the second world war, but were never
committed by regular troops during the War
of Independence, according to Richard Snow, editor of American Heritage
magazine. Of course, irregular militias, terrorist bands allied to both
sides and Indian proxies did some very nasty things. And, sure, spies
and traitors were hanged. But regulars on both sides made the
distinction between those categories and uniformed combatants.
Snow understands the outrage in the British press: They should
be upset.'
The most outrageous of The Patriot's many faults
is that Emmerich and Rodat show the British committing a war
crime that closely resembles one of the most notorious Nazi
atrocities the massacre of 642 people (including 205 children)
in the French village of Oradour sur Glane on June 10, 1944.
At Oradour, the Waffen SS's Das Reich division
punished local resistance activity by first shooting all the
men and boys. Then they rounded up the women and children,
locked them in the town church and set it on fire. You can see
Oradour today exactly as it was just after the Nazis carried
out the mass murder the French have left it as an empty
memorial.
There was one major case of British regulars
burning a town during the revolution. It was Groton,
Connecticut, and the troops were under the command of Benedict
Arnold. The houses they burned were empty. Yet in The Patriot
British dragoons lock scores of civilians, most of them women
and children, into a church and set it alight. According to both Snow
and historian Thomas Fleming, no such incident took place during the
revolution. As Snow says: Of course it never happened if it
had, do
you think Americans would have forgotten it? It could have kept us out
of
the first world war.'
By transposing Oradour to South Carolina, and
making 18th-century Britons the first moderns to commit this
particular war crime, Emmerich and Rodat have done something
unpleasantly akin to Holocaust revisionism. They have made a
film that will have the effect of inoculating audiences
against the unique historical horror of Oradour and implicitly
rehabilitating the Nazis.
If the Nazis had won the war in Europe, and their
propaganda ministry had decided to make a film about the
American Revolution, The Patriot is the sort of movie you
could expect to see. Doubters should take a look at Goebbels's
pre-Pearl Harbor efforts at inflaming isolationist Anglophobia.
It's just as well for Sony-Columbia that
Emmerich, Rodat and Gibson didn't make a film like this about
the French, the Chinese or even the Arabs. If they had, there
would probably have been government protests, popular
demonstrations and boycotts. But they have still told a big
lie about the war that brought the US into existence, one that feeds
an even greater lie about the war and the enemy that the US and Britain
fought half a century ago. It's a shameful way to make money. And it's
particularly
insidious in a film that goes to such lengths to avoid anachronism in
clothing, weaponry and battle tactics.
It's hard to define, but there is clearly a point
where dramatic licence shades into something much more
sinister. If you made a film in which Africans raided Europe
for slaves to bring to America, or Jews provoked pogroms by
drinking the blood of gentile children, you would have passed
that point, even if such films were exciting, well acted and
starred Mel Gibson.
I don't blame Gibson so much: it's no surprise
when actors overlook historical accuracy for a good role.
Especially when they receive Dollars 25m for their trouble, as
Gibson did for The Patriot. But I'd like to introduce Emmerich
and Rodat to the families of those massacred at Oradour.
Jonathan Foreman is film critic for the New York Post.
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