s Ella Taylor complains about the film’s “all-white posse of activists, [including] a single freed slave.” Elsewhere, a saintly blogger takes exception to “the film’s noticeable lack of African characters, the very people the film should somehow represent by directly imparting their stories and struggle.” As they did when Whit Stillman released The Last Days of Disco , complacent critics rise to enforce a cultural norm: Don’t talk about privilege.
is primarily concerned with William Wilberforce’s battle to make his fellow M.P.s aware of their moral responsibilities.
There were no Africans among the elite ruling Britain in the late 18th century. Dismissing the film on this basis is the same as saying that this story shouldn’t be told. Such punditry blurs the line between criticism and censorship.
It takes a double embarrassment to turn established critics and their online followers into an army of shadows chanting in one voice. Screenwriter Steven Knight’s special combination of historicism and character study forces us to recognize contemporary elites in those depicted onscreen. But beyond that, critics must be mortified by Wilberforce’s Christianity-derived acceptance of the of privilege.
Why else would they complain about the movie’s “sanctification” of its hero, despite the fact that he needs protection, encouragement, advice at every stage of his quest? Our pampered pundits make it clear that we’re not to expect Wilberforce-like commitment or virtue from mere mortals like themselves. I see it as my democratic responsibility to compound their embarrassment by calling attention to a recent article by Greg Tate called “King of Wreck.
” A ridiculous essay with an odious thesis, it claims that “Bob Dylan is the future of hiphop, and maybe even the future of humanity.” Aging hipster Tate also writes, “I think Cate Blanchett would be the perfect big-screen Miles Davis because she’s that gangsta-mack with her craft.” This piece provoked no snarky leftist outcry.
Replacing black-culture heroes with white-hipster icons is an accepted part of media hegemony. That’s why the critics who toady to the same white celebs year after year can accuse socially conscious artists like Apted and Knight of racism with impunity. Hiphop is where African-Americans “directly impart their stories and struggle.
” The critical establishment has always opposed this phenomenon as vigorously as the pro-slavery M.P.s in defend their position, but with far less honesty and clarity.
The lying, distorting critical response to the film proves its relevance. Click Here for John Demetry's review of s Ella Taylor complains about the film’s “all-white posse of activists, [including] a single freed slave.” Elsewhere, a saintly blogger takes exception to “the film’s noticeable lack of African characters, the very people the film should somehow represent by directly imparting their stories and struggle.
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