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Dragged Across Concrete

S. Craig Zahler (Bone Tomahawk) is back with a solid and satisfyingly rough follow-up to the jaw-dropping Brawl in Cell Block 99, reuniting with Vince Vaughn and teaming him up with Mel Gibson in a literally gut-ripping, downbeat buddy cop brutalizer. Seasoned detective Brett Ridgeman (Gibson) and partner Anthony Lurasetti (Vaughn) are caught on video using excessive force in the apprehension of a Hispanic drug dealer, creating a scandal for their police department, and get suspended without pay by their superior (Don Johnson). Both men need money – Lurasetti because he plans to propose marriage to his girlfriend, and Ridgeman because his daughter is no longer safe in their ghettoized neighborhood and the family needs to get out. At the extent of his tether, Ridgeman hatches a half-baked plan to rip off a heroin dealer that winds up with him and his partner pitted against a gang of formidable paramilitary bank heisters. A career highlight for Gibson equal to his over-the-hill hero roles in Edge of Darkness and Blood Father, and yet another impressive entry in Vaughn’s growing résumé of scary tough guy characters after True Detective and Brawl in Cell Block 99.

4.5 out of 5 stars. Ideological Content Analysis indicates that Dragged Across Concrete is:

8. Anti-drug. Tory Kittles plays ex-con Henry Johns, whose stint in prison illustrates a very possible outcome for a dealer. His mother, a heroin addict, has turned to prostitution. It is also mentioned that the dealer Ridgeman mistreats has been selling drugs to children, undermining any potential audience sympathy for the criminal.

7. Ableist! Lurasetti compares a hearing-impaired woman’s speech to a dolphin’s.

6. Anti-Semitic! Writer-director Zahler, as Soiled Sinema’s Ty E. puts it, is an artist who seems to have “transcended his Jewishness”, which may account for the brief and harmless but stereotype-oozing portrayal of the friendly jeweler Feinbaum, who says his wife has two brothers who are therapists and three sisters who are lawyers.

feinbaum

5. Homophobic! Henry dismisses his “cocksuckin’ father” as “a yesterday who ain’t worth words.” Disapprovingly, Ridgeman fails to see “much of a difference these days” between men and women, and also mocks Lurasetti’s “gay hair shit” disguise.

4. Media-critical. Chief Lieutenant Calvert (Johnson) derides the anti-police bias of “the entertainment industry formally known as ‘the news’”, which “needs villains” and fabricates them if necessary.

3. Natalist, i.e., sexist! Unexpectedly, the movie features a tender (albeit offbeat) portrait of a new mother, Kelly Summer (Jennifer Carpenter), desperately trying to avoid going back to work after using up her maternity leave. The necessity of keeping a job seems cruel and absurd now that she has a baby. Her proper place, she realizes, is at home with her child, and her boss, Mr. Edmington (Fred Melamed) describes her as a “radiant vision of maternity”. The section of Dragged Across Concrete that follows Kelly is even more affecting on a second viewing.

2. Class-conscious. “My job [in a bank] is so stupid,” Kelly laments. “I go there and I sell chunks of my life for a paycheck so that rich people I’ve never even met can put money in places I’ve never even seen.” Henry’s little brother Ethan, meanwhile, sees big game hunting as “rich white people shit”. There is also the suggestion that those with wealth have the means to elude the law, as Ridgeman at some point in the past allowed the son of businessman Friedrich (Udo Kier) to escape punishment for an unnamed crime in exchange for a future favor from the well-connected father. Ridgeman no longer believes in a meritocratic American dream. “I don’t politick and I don’t change with the times and turns that that shit’s more important than good, honest work,” he tells his partner, determining: “We have the skills and the right to acquire proper compensation” for thankless years of public service.

1.Race-realist – with exceptions. “They’re so cute before they get big,” says Ridgeman’s daughter Sara (Jordyn Ashley Olson) – ostensibly with reference to lion cubs, but subtextually referring to the black boys who harass her when she walks home from school. “This fucking neighborhood, it just keeps getting worse and worse,” frets Mrs. Ridgeman (Laurie Holden). “You know I never thought I was a racist before living in this area. I’m about as liberal as any ex-cop could ever be, but now,” she demands, “we really need to move” or else, “someday, you and me,” she tells her husband, “we are in a hospital room with our daughter talking to a rape counselor.”

Ridgeman and his partner are both depicted as casual racists. “I’m not racist,” Lurasetti jokes: “Every Martin Luther King Day I order a cup of dark roast.” In a twenty-first century world in which “digital eyes are everywhere”, however, old-school law-and-order enforcers like Ridgeman and Lurasetti are living on borrowed time. “Like cell phones, and just as annoying, politics are everywhere,” Calvert observes. “Being branded a racist in today’s public forum is like being accused of communism in the fifties. Whether it’s a possibly offensive remark made in a private phone call or the indelicate treatment of a minority who sells drugs to children […] It’s bullshit – but it’s reality.”

Softening Dragged Across Concrete’s racial edge is the presence of Henry, the conspicuous specimen of Africanus cinematicus played by Tory Kittles. This ghetto thug with the soul of a poet is given to saying things like, “Before I consider that kind of vocation, I need to get myself acclimated” and is at all times depicted as being more astute than those around him. His little brother Ethan, too, is portrayed as an underprivileged but bright lad of great potential. The case can be made that Dragged Across Concrete makes examples of its most prominent bigots by punishing them while rewarding Henry in the end. Ridgeman, who has refused to change with the times, is taught the important lesson that he “should have trusted a nigger.”

Rainer Chlodwig von K.

Rainer is the author of Protocols of the Elders of Zanuck: Psychological Warfare and Filth at the Movies – the DEFINITIVE Alt-Right statement on Hollywood!

Depravity Fair:

Vanity-Fair-Hollywood-Issue

Assassin

An intriguing feature of Assassin (1986), an enjoyable TV movie written and directed by Amityville Horror screenwriter Sandor Stern, is that it may, in some aspects, serve as a metaphor for Zionist-controlled news and entertainment media, whether this is the film’s intention or not.

Stern, who in recent years has written unimaginative liberal diatribes (“Dear Republican Friends . . .”) at SuicideGirlsBlog, is no friend of gentiles and not likely to have designed his film as a cautionary allegory about Zionist disinformation for the benefit of his audience of action fans; but is it not possible that, perhaps from some sense of arrogant mischief, veteran television writer Stern has facetiously encrypted his film with insights into his medium’s motives?

Sandor Stern

Sandor Stern

Assassin‘s Terminator-inspired plot has CIA operative Henry Stanton (Konrad Robert Falkowski, alias Robert Conrad) coming out of retirement and teaming up with a feminist cybernetics specialist, Mary Casallas (Night Court alumnus Karen Brammer, alias Karen Austin) to stop a renegade government android, Robert Golem (Richard Young), from living up to the title by assassinating all of the figures on its secret hit list.

“The ‘Robert’ I can understand; it’s close to ‘robot’,” Stanton observes. “But who dug up the ‘Golem’?” “Folklore,” Casallas explains. “There was a zealot rabbi in sixteenth century Prague. He created a clay creature, called it ‘Golem’. Brought it to life to protect the Jews from persecution. Ironically, it turned on its creators.” Is Assassin a model of entertainment-media-as-Golem, and has it, too, playfully turned against its masters by giving away something of their game?

assassin2

Robert Golem’s creator is Philip Dewberry, described as an impersonal cipher of a man. “He had no sense of humor,” Casallas recounts, and lived only for experimentation. “How can you work with a man six or seven years and not know him any better than the inside of a television set?” Stanton asks her. “It was three years and he was the inside of a television set,” Casallas answers enigmatically.

Robert Golem, like a walking, talking, CIA-approved television set, is programmed with an agenda and even has a plug that it can stick into a socket to power itself. Though a soulless, inhuman murderer, Golem is charming, seductive, and furtive – silently invading an apartment as a lonely, oblivious woman (Nancy Lenehan) drinks herself into a stupor and watches a romance-oriented game show. As to how something as seemingly harmless as television plays at assassination, just consider the mainstream media’s treatment of “tinfoil hat” (i.e., antiwar) candidate Ron Paul. Robert Golem’s targets, like those of the Zionist news media, are opponents of the military-industrial complex.

The android-Golem, despite being monstrously powerful and virtually impervious, does, fortunately for Agent Stanton, have one physical weakness – its belly. And fortunately for those who abhor what the Zionist-controlled television networks have done and are doing to western civilization on a nightly and unrelenting basis, TV, too, also has a weakness at the center of its nourishment – in that it can be switched off.

white_house_down

Magic Mike himself, big badass Channing Tatum, stars as a Capitol policeman and would-be Secret Service agent who gets his chance to play at the real thing when he and his daughter (Joey King) tour the White House on precisely the day real-life Obama disser James Woods, the devious head of White House security, plans to stage a coup d’etat to unseat President Django, played by Jamie Foxx.

It is appropriate that the opening credits acknowledge a company called Mythology with this lightweight production, considering how White House Down is nothing if not an encapsulation of liberals’ mythologized view of an idealized President B.O., the scholarly man of peace who could solve all of America’s problems if only given enough cooperation and tax revenue. President Django, suitably enough, makes His first appearance in a three-helicopter formation symbolizing the Trinity of His Godhead.

The film follows the basic template of the Die Hard franchise, with a bloodied, battered Magic Mike, complete with soiled wifebeater and an imperiled loved one among the hostages, jumping, running, and dragging himself through historic bedrooms and the obligatory elevator shaft like a younger, sexier, generally less interesting John McClane.

The action is decent, if unoriginal, though there is an admitted joy to the scene of the mild-mannered, bespectacled President Django getting unchained on the White House lawn and hanging out of the window of His chauffeured car with a rocket launcher. James Woods brings a necessary seriousness to the film, while gorgeously quirky Maggie Gyllenhaal, wasted here in the role of a Secret Service bigwig, is at least enjoyable to ogle.

3.5 of 5 possible stars. Ideological Content Analysis indicates that White House Down is:

9. Anti-tobacco. President Django is not a smoker.

8. Anti-Christian. Prominently featured terrorist Killick (Kevin Rankin) has a cross tattooed on his chest.

7. Pro-miscegenation. Magic Mike’s daughter has a crush on President Django.

6. Anti-racist (i.e., pro-yawn). Right-wing white nationalists naturally play a part in the coup.

5. Feminist and anti-marriage. Magic Mike’s daughter not only protects the President, but saves the world from nuclear holocaust. Maggie Gyllenhaal is a strong, self-assured, and independent woman with no need of a man. Her ex-husband was an “asshole”.

4. Egalitarian. President Django deploys a folksy anecdote to explain how poverty causes crime.

3. Antiwar. Refreshingly, White House Down vilifies defense contractors and poo-poos the fearmongering about Iran’s nuclear capabilities. Undermining this show of pacifism, however, is the President’s favorable attitude toward drones.

2. Crypto-Zionist. Conspiratorial mastermind Woods is a fanatical neoconservative bent on destroying Iran. White House Down points the finger not at Israel, however – that country receiving mention only as a signatory to a Middle East peace treaty – but at vague “corporations” and a nebulous “military-industrial complex” with which President Django must grapple. In addition, the implosion of the Capitol dome from a fire inside the building corroborates the official story obscuring the implosion of the Twin Towers and WTC 7, thus diverting attention from any possible Israeli involvement in the 9/11 attacks. Magic Mike’s daughter wears a shirt depicting a squid or octopus to show her solidarity with the forces of the New World Order.

1. Statist. A few bad apples may exist, but government, as personified or deified by Lincoln aficionado President Django, generally has America’s best interests at heart. Racist mercenary Killick, in addition to his cross tattoo, sports an anarchist circle-A on one of his arms. Also demonized are anti-government hackers of the Wikileaks and Anonymous varieties.

2platesposter

Filmed in 2010 as The Two Plates and re-released at Redboxes this week under the stronger and more attention-grabbing title Blood Red Presidents, this ghetto epic from writer-director Jonathan Straiton is well worth checking out. Nasty, raw, and uncompromising, Blood Red Presidents dispenses with the Hollywood kid gloves in the depiction of blacks and emphasizes instead the grittily real. So firm is this film’s commitment to presenting the truth, no matter how unflattering to the society it depicts, that much of it feels almost as if actual camera phone footage straight out of the ‘hood had been edited together and uploaded onto YouTube as a movie, with most of the actors mumbling and slurring their lines instead of hamming it up and projecting; but there is much audiovisual style displayed here along with the handheld and seemingly primitive, with several memorably composed frames and such tactics as split screen employed more than once and used especially effectively in a doom-laden money-counting montage and musical interlude. Hip-hop is very much a part of this film’s personality and does much to enhance its power.

The violent story has two small-time hustlers, Deshaun (Assault) and Buck (Ambush), making a play for the big-time money as counterfeiters after they steal two plates that once belonged to a Peruvian drug lord. Unfortunately for them, their scheme attracts the attention of Secret Service agent Caddell (John Patton), who, along with Richmond cops Beck (Chris Morrison) and Burnett (Wes Reid), is determined to bring Deshaun and Buck’s successful run to an end. Before the tragic but blackly humorous story has run its seedy course, many will die, families will suffer, and friends will turn against each other. Blood Red Presidents, then, lives up to its title as yet another cautionary tale about how money, the titular “presidents”, is supposedly “the root to all evil.” Buck and Deshaun are no pitiable victims of any white Man’s “system”, however; these are crude, coldblooded brutes, self-described “niggers killin’ niggers” who deserve everything they get and more.

4 out of 5 stars. Recommended.

[WARNING: SPOILERS]

Ideological Content Analysis indicates that Blood Red Presidents is:

6. Christian. “Yeah, I’m sure, man. Is Jesus black?” Director Jonathan Straiton thanks God in the credits for His “guidance”.

5. Pro-family. Straiton dedicates the film to his father. Executive producer John M. Clark, meanwhile, thanks “Gene my adopted son who I appreciate very much for helping my retarded son.”

4. Sexist and slut-ambivalent. A rap that plays over the opening credits warns of crooked lawyers and “bitches with game”. “Get the fuck off the bed,” Deshaun tells his “shorty” in one early scene. “You need to take that shit to the clinic,” one young wastrel says to her. Leaning in the pro-slut direction, however, the executive producer gives a “special thanks” to “the designer of crotchless panties and peach flavored douche.”

3. Drug-ambivalent. In the opening scene, an old-fashioned white father, no doubt intended to be laughable, is shocked that his son would use marijuana. Thugs smoke joints and blunts and drink alcohol throughout the film, but “seein’ ya mama on that glass pipe is a painful sight.” In the end credits, executive producer John M. Clark thanks “the French wheat growers for doing their part to distill Grey Goose Vodka without which I couldn’t get through a day,” while producer Mean Gene thanks Bud Light “for always being there for me in time of need.” The director, Jonathan Straiton, says, “To anyone I forgot I apologize but it’s late and I’m drunk.”

2. Police-ambivalent/anti-state. Blood Red Presidents presents a sympathetic portrait of rookie cop Burnett and his chief. “You know how the media is,” Burnett complains to his chief after being accused of police brutality. “I mean, where were they last week when I was changing that old lady’s tire?” Surprisingly, Burnett is the only character in the film who shows any remorse after committing a murder, and he even risks blowing a major investigation to try to save a criminal informant’s life. His colleague Beck is another matter. In a situation similar to that in The Place Beyond the Pines, this officer attempts to cover up for Burnett after his mistaken killing of an unarmed suspect. Meaningfully, the victim, an aspiring rapper, is found to have been holding a microphone rather than a gun. (Symbolically, this might be read as suggesting that the police state feels less threatened by black crime than by socially conscious black men’s freedom of expression.) One of the extras in the police station has clearly been cast to capture the worthless, doughnut-scarfing blob archetype.

1. Diversity-skeptical/anti-wigger. A close-up of Virginia’s state flag, with its motto, “Sic semper tyrannis”, calls to mind Lincoln’s assassination and never-completed Reconstruction. “Freedom ain’t free,” one rap number suggests, and racial resentments going back to the days of slavery inform the typical thug mindset, with the ghosts of slaves, heard from the trees, encouraging young black men to “Squeeze that tech, nigga.” White police, consequently, are vulnerable both to violence and defamation in the media. In one scene, a black man punches a white stranger on sight. Buck and Deshaun’s wigger associates, “silly-ass white boy” Chuck (Ashby Brooks) and his brother, “ol’ crazy-ass white boy” Mike (Rob Rozier), turn out to be untrustworthy. Authorities, meanwhile, are frustrated by criminals’ use of unintelligible Ebonics.

Homosexuality has for a number of years been more or less accepted by the mainstream media – and, following them, the public – as an “alternative lifestyle”, its victory in the war for equal footing with heterosexuality so sure, such a fait accompli, that, had Oscar Wilde been caught with his velvet trousers down a mere number decades later, he would, rather than having entangled himself unnecessarily in a humiliating legal debacle and been branded with the mark of Victorian ignominy, have been lauded as a cultural hero and offered his own lightweight daytime talk show.

The ascendancy of the forces of sexual egalitarianism has been so crushingly complete, in fact, that, having overrun and occupied their enemies’ fortifications, they now seek not only an unconditional surrender on the part of the ex-establishment, but punitive reparations, permanent privileged status, and immediate implementation of an array of social experiments on the scale of collectivization under Stalin, calling for the totalitarian indoctrination and regimentation of future generations in the service of their cause.

It is not enough for homosexuality to be tolerated. It must be embraced and celebrated, endorsed in the public schools, be subsidized and pampered and have its leaky asshole licked. Gays, if a baker refuses their business when they want him to make them a wedding cake, no longer have to endure the harrowing inconvenience of locating another bakery, but immediately turn to the ACLU for social retribution. Fast food chains must champion sodomy or else face the wrath of the overlords of “progress” in markets like Chicago and Boston. Ideological Content Analysis has no moral objection to homosexuality in itself, but does demur when a movement pretending to advocate mere tolerance turns instead toward de facto coercion.

It is not sufficient for gays to be gay; everybody and everything must be gay in the new Socialist States of America. Statesmen and judges and fry cooks and basketball players must be homosexual allies, as must the Boy Scouts and even the clergy. In Europe, where cultural Marxism is even more firmly entrenched than in America, gay “rights” have already mutated into a means to authoritarianism, with priests in Denmark ordered by the government to perform homosexual marriage ceremonies on demand.

Now the pedophiles want their turn. NAMBLA, the North American Man/Boy Love Association, remains a largely reviled fringe lobbying group, though not without its shadowy following. In recent years, however, a movement toward compassion for those afflicted with the pederast’s compulsion is emergent. Not many years after molesting the young star of his horror film Clownhouse, director Victor Salva was welcomed back into the fold of the Hollywood mainstream and allowed to direct youth market films like Powder and Jeepers Creepers. A sympathetic 2004 film, The Woodsman, follows a child molester’s attempt at redemption after serving a prison sentence. More recently The Atlantic published a candid personal narrative by sexual degenerate David Goldberg, “I, Pedophile“, in which the author panhandles for sympathy on account of his I-can’t-help-it complicity as a patron in the child pornography industry.

These examples are arguably innocuous; but if the normalization of pedophilia that is plainly afoot follows the same trajectory as the now triumphant gay “rights” movement, then what, one wonders, does organized pedophilia have in store for western civilization? That open promotion of pedophilia may be the next major civil “rights” crusade is suggested by the most intensely repugnant trailer of this or any other year, that for Jackass Presents Bad Grandpa, the latest bid by MTV Films and Paramount Pictures for the imperiled soul of America: a naked campaign ad to pervert and subvert everything that tentatively remains decent in America.

The trailer, which features a little girl in a talent contest stripping off her costume to reveal adult lingerie underneath and who then performs a pole dance as the grandfather, with masturbatory enthusiasm, flings dollar bills at her, militates against the culprits, MTV Films and Paramount Pictures (assets of Zionist-run Viacom, Inc.), receiving any further business from moviegoers with any lingering sense of the good and traditional. Your humble reviewer, for one, certainly will not be patronizing their product, and a full-scale boycott of these corporations’ anti-American output may be in order if the scheduled release (as of a biological warfare agent) of Bad Grandpa proceeds as planned.

Buckley

Master of conservative English prose, William F. Buckley, Jr.*

Conservative bloggers frequently will invoke “culture” and “civilization” in the midst of griping about the ravages being done to the West by the Left and the teeming hordes of the Untermenschen. Unfortunately, too many of these putative traditionalists express their arguments in such a slipshod fashion as to make only too painfully obvious in what base regard they actually hold their much-vaunted culture and civilization. Could any component be more central to a culture than the language in which its standard-bearers speak and write the books and laws that fix and transmit its essence from one generation to the next?

Why, then, do the writers for Stuff Black People Don’t Like and the Daily Kenn, men who perform a valuable service by making much neglected information available to order-oriented citizens, issue their thoughts in such disorderly sentences, demonstrating so little care for craft and for proofreading, a true mark of a writer’s respect for the culture and civilization he both expresses and hopefully bolsters with each of his public formulations? These two gentlemen, however, are hardly alone in a negligence that is particularly puzzling among those who worry that government-orchestrated Reconquista threatens to overrun and uproot America’s English-speaking heritage.

Conservatives already must bear the brunt of a popular impression, fostered largely by academia and a radical media consensus, and particularly current among the flippant Daily Show cohort, that they are brutish, intellectually backward, and so woefully incapable of matching or even understanding the subtle revolutions of the leftist thought collective. This being the case, it becomes the special responsibility of the rightist voice of dissent to express itself as carefully and purposefully as possible. As liberty-minded citizenship requires constant vigilance, so does the conservation of the European cultural inheritance necessitate a compositional discipline sadly lacking as one surveys the rakish-right blogosphere of today.

* UPDATE. After publishing this post with accompanying picture of William F. Buckley, a friend of your humble reviewer sent him this link to an unfavorable profile of Chairman Bill, presumably with the intention of chiding your humble reviewer for his poor choice of exemplars of “conservative English prose”:
http://www.americanfreepress.net/html/bill_buckley128.html

To clarify, Ideological Content Analysis, being in sympathy with political incorrectness, with libertarianism, and with race realism, does not endorse the policy positions of Mr. Buckley, which tended in what came to be known as the neoconservative direction. Your humble reviewer does, however, feel that, at least in terms of his presentation, gravitas, and eloquent calculation of expression, he is the breed of charismatic figure conservatism arguably needs at this point.

Buckley, his shortcomings notwithstanding, was as charming a figure as any who ever appeared on television. It is the position of Ideological Content Analysis that even the ragged, self-consciously alternative Right ought to aspire to Buckley’s combination of catchiness and dignity of image. Admittedly, Buckley is a somewhat sinister illustration of how even previously exotic movements of ideas can attain popular currency through exceptional public relations – which is precisely why, at least with an eye to the superficial aspects of the Chairman Bill persona, the marginalized Right might benefit from emulating him.

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