Sue Katz: Consenting Adult

Film Review: Trumbo – Wish I liked it better

I wanted to like Jay Roach’s film Trumbo. After all, it is a serious treatment of the cold war days, during which some of the finest creative talents in Hollywood were blacklisted and even imprisoned beginning in the late 40s. Dalton Trumbo was the top screenwriter of the day, a committed leftist, and one who refused to crumble in the face of nasty political repression. He would not answer the questions of the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), originally tasked in 1938 to search out Nazis, but quickly transformed into a Cold War terminator.

The cast includes some favorites: Helen Mirren as the malevolent gossip columnist Hedda Hopper; Diane Lane as the long-suffering, endlessly calming wife of Trumbo; John Goodman as the rapacious film producer of schlock; Louis C.K. as Trumbo’s sidekick and sounding board Arlen Hird.

We get a fascinating look at which stars of the day were right-wing red-baiters like John Wayne and which were progressives like Kirk Douglas. However, despite the casting of some great actors doing walk-on bits about household names, I found no one to love. Bryan Cranston’s Dalton Trumbo is an awkward, arrogant character who bullied his own family and acted precipitously without collaborating with those close to him. In short, he was full of himself.

It is a story that I’m glad has been told and I hope it will encourage people to look at this dark, creepy period of American history – particularly to see how it resonates with America’s current political climate. Substitute “Islamic terrorists” for “Communists” and the ugliness will seem familiar. I only wish the film had succeeded in engaging me emotionally. Of course I was outraged by the lying machinations of the anti-left crusaders, but the movie failed to deliver a sense of the profound devastation they visited on the lives of so many people. It’s worth seeing, however, especially for those who know little about what went on in Hollywood in those days.

Near Death on the Road: (Mine, That Is)

Today I feared for my life. Road rage. It’s a subject much in the headlines: the lunatic who shot a 6-year-old multiple times in a car on the side of the road; the angry Boston driver who forced another vehicle off a bridge for a deadly plunge into the Charles River. You know, I used to be the kind of driver who gave the finger to all of the deserving. But no more. With all the armed crazy white men out there, I gave up road rage in exchange for keeping my head down and maintaining a low profile while driving according to the laws.

Today it was rainy and dark all day. I was on the way to Trader Joe’s on a three-lane part of Route 2. At one point the left lane had to turn left and the right lane had to turn right. I was in the right lane and needed to move into the center lane to continue forward. The guy behind me wasn’t really letting me through, but then a gap opened up and I slipped in.

He went ballistic. He gunned it, peeled out behind me to the right and almost on two wheels, cut in front of me, where there was no real room. He slammed on his brakes, assuming I would plow into his rear (100% my fault in Massachusetts), but I managed to stop. Luckily the person behind me managed to stop as well. People on both side lanes were freaking out, swerving. There he was stopped dead on a fast-moving road.

He leapt out with a murderous, hate-twisted face towards me, and popped the trunk. He reached into the trunk, twisting his grotesque face my way. A gun? A tire iron? I peeled to the left, where there was a sliver of space, and then kept going. I didn’t get his license, I didn’t take his photo. I just got my ass out of there.

Stay safe my friends.