One day, cruising the internet for signs of intelligent, or at least coherent, life, and, instead, I come across this:
And as for “off the reservation”, wow—I guess Hillary should take a gander at John Ford’s classic Western, Fort Apache(1948), where John Wayne tangles with Henry Fonda as a U.S. Cavalry martinet vengefully pursuing the Native American “savages,” led by the famous Chiricahua Apache chief Cochise, who refuse to stay on the reservation decreed for them by the government during Westward expansion. The bloody Apache wars in Arizona were one of the darkest chapters in American history. But there you have Hillary’s gender theory in a nutshell: men are bums and bullies who belong in internment camps under female lock and key.
(Camille Paglia, May 5, 2016, Salon.com)
Next day, filling in one of the holes in my education (about which more in some upcoming monthly book report), I come across this:
Mythopathic moment. Fort Apache, where Henry Fonda, as the new colonel, says to John Wayne, the old hand, “We saw some Apache as we neared the Fort,” and John Wayne says, “If you saw them, sir, they weren’t Apache.” But this colonel is obsessed, brave like a maniac, not very bright, a West Point aristo, wounded in his career and his pride, posted out to some Arizona shithole with only marginal consolation: he’s a professional and this is a war, the only war we’ve got. So he gives the John Wayne information a pass, and he and half his command get wiped out. More a war movie than a Western, Nam paradigm, Vietnam, not a movie, no jive cartoon either where the characters get smacked around and electrocuted and dropped from heights, flattened out and frizzed black and broken like a dish, then up again and whole and back in the game, “Nobody dies,” as someone said in another war movie.
Michael Herr, Dispatches, 1978 (recalling 1968)
I confess that, not for the first time, I’m not at all sure what points Paglia was trying to make. Probably the same ones Herr had made, far more eloquently, decades earlier. It’s a dangerous world. Civilization is fragile and built on corpses. Get stupid, get screwed. Or get dead, in a world where death is real. We’d better study the American narrative closely, because, like it or not, embrace it or not, we are setting the agenda for the age and thus charged with deciding which corpses will seed the ground.
If you want to know the future–or even the present–study the past.
In other words, the very points John Ford spent his career making.
The distance between Herr’s earned, astringent clarity, let alone Ford’s artistry (both long since rendered impossible by the ensuing cultural collapse) and Paglia’s lack thereof (now de rigueur, though she’s often perversely charming in her absolutely complete inability to recognize how much she’s benefited from the downfall she rightly laments), is the distance we’ve traveled in less than two generations. You can guess which voice has been nearly silent since and which one is ready for an interview–the modern media’s equivalent of a close-up–this weekend!