Barry Levinson's documentary is not really about politics but about the relationship between politics, celebrity, and the media, which Levinson calls "an unholy alliance." If Levinson has a political opinion in the standard sense of the term, it's not readily apparent.
The director evokes a Frank Capra movie from the early 40s as an example: "Meet John Doe." The movie stars Gary Cooper as an ordinary guy who is picked to represent a fictional character by a newspaper. He's picked to be made into a public hero because he looks photogenic and he acts in an innocent and ordinary way. And John Doe DOES become a populist hero. The newspaper takes him on tour. He reads rousing speeches about the nation being made up of "little guys like us," written for him by Barbara Stanwyck, a reporter. John Doe Clubs spring up all around the nation. He's adored, lauded wherever he goes.
Then, back to reality, there is Joe the Plumber, if anyone remembers him. He was an ordinary guy who asked Barack Obama a simple, challenging question during the campaign. The media loved Joe the Plumber, a husky, plain-looking Midwesterner with a shaved head. He looked right. He could speak in complete sentences. He was taken on tour and lauded. But he was swept up by the losing side and today, a man of no journalistic experience and no background in politics, the media has lost interest and Joe has faded from public consciousness after writing a book and becoming a motivational speaker.
This isn't to denigrate Joe the Plumber or his political philosophy but to emphasize the nature of celebrity. There was unquestionably a similar element of "celebrity" in Barack Obama and his campaign. Expensive inflatable sneakers decorated with Obama's face are now advertised on television. You can buy an authentic Barack Obama chia doll. (Obama's head is filled with dirt and, when it's watered, tiny leaves sprout from it.) I've taken up a lot of space with John Doe and Joe the Plumber, one fictional and one real, because it summarizes the main points I think Levinson is trying to make. The television camera, he tells us in a few black-and-white editorial inserts, is "entertaining" but "a disaster" for the news because it confuses make-believe with the truth. "Reality TV" is not "reality," he reminds us.
Some of the Hollywood celebrities we see have pointed political views. We're probably familiar with most of them. But, on the whole, they're not the ego-ridden airheads we might have expected. And some have frankly come to learn something about the issues and how the system works, and they find themselves embarrassed when reporters ask them to make comments on complex issues. I mean, what the hell does Anne Hathaway know about the role of structured derivative instruments in an economic collapse?
More engaging points that Levinson makes. What can a celebrity or politician "sell" on TV? Not funding for the arts or education. The channel gets switched. But they can sell conflict and outrage which, like natural disasters, receive ready attention.
Sometimes, if you want to make your pitch for a cause, "celebrity" provides a more powerful platform than "politics." For many years, global climate has been one of Al Gore's chief concerns. Yet, as Vice President, he could not engage the media. But once out of office, a private citizen and public figure, he could organize a persuasive presentation, film it, and win an Academy Award -- not because he was a former Vice President but because he had become a celebrity.
Anyone who wants to, can find weaknesses and bias in "Poliwood." Who knows what wound up on the cutting room floor? But they'd have to work at it because Levinson, who treats all his guests politely and with sweet reason, seems GENUINELY gripped by the ethical problem of politics/celebrity/media, and not by any particular social issues. He doesn't ask anyone about political issues and his subjects' comments are mostly limited to the subject at hand, the confluence of politics, celebrity, and the media.
Sixty years ago it was mandated that the networks devote at least some part of their air time to news, as a public service. The news departments of all networks consistently lost money, but they were willingly done by professionals as pro bono publico. Now it's not about public service but ratings.
The director evokes a Frank Capra movie from the early 40s as an example: "Meet John Doe." The movie stars Gary Cooper as an ordinary guy who is picked to represent a fictional character by a newspaper. He's picked to be made into a public hero because he looks photogenic and he acts in an innocent and ordinary way. And John Doe DOES become a populist hero. The newspaper takes him on tour. He reads rousing speeches about the nation being made up of "little guys like us," written for him by Barbara Stanwyck, a reporter. John Doe Clubs spring up all around the nation. He's adored, lauded wherever he goes.
Then, back to reality, there is Joe the Plumber, if anyone remembers him. He was an ordinary guy who asked Barack Obama a simple, challenging question during the campaign. The media loved Joe the Plumber, a husky, plain-looking Midwesterner with a shaved head. He looked right. He could speak in complete sentences. He was taken on tour and lauded. But he was swept up by the losing side and today, a man of no journalistic experience and no background in politics, the media has lost interest and Joe has faded from public consciousness after writing a book and becoming a motivational speaker.
This isn't to denigrate Joe the Plumber or his political philosophy but to emphasize the nature of celebrity. There was unquestionably a similar element of "celebrity" in Barack Obama and his campaign. Expensive inflatable sneakers decorated with Obama's face are now advertised on television. You can buy an authentic Barack Obama chia doll. (Obama's head is filled with dirt and, when it's watered, tiny leaves sprout from it.) I've taken up a lot of space with John Doe and Joe the Plumber, one fictional and one real, because it summarizes the main points I think Levinson is trying to make. The television camera, he tells us in a few black-and-white editorial inserts, is "entertaining" but "a disaster" for the news because it confuses make-believe with the truth. "Reality TV" is not "reality," he reminds us.
Some of the Hollywood celebrities we see have pointed political views. We're probably familiar with most of them. But, on the whole, they're not the ego-ridden airheads we might have expected. And some have frankly come to learn something about the issues and how the system works, and they find themselves embarrassed when reporters ask them to make comments on complex issues. I mean, what the hell does Anne Hathaway know about the role of structured derivative instruments in an economic collapse?
More engaging points that Levinson makes. What can a celebrity or politician "sell" on TV? Not funding for the arts or education. The channel gets switched. But they can sell conflict and outrage which, like natural disasters, receive ready attention.
Sometimes, if you want to make your pitch for a cause, "celebrity" provides a more powerful platform than "politics." For many years, global climate has been one of Al Gore's chief concerns. Yet, as Vice President, he could not engage the media. But once out of office, a private citizen and public figure, he could organize a persuasive presentation, film it, and win an Academy Award -- not because he was a former Vice President but because he had become a celebrity.
Anyone who wants to, can find weaknesses and bias in "Poliwood." Who knows what wound up on the cutting room floor? But they'd have to work at it because Levinson, who treats all his guests politely and with sweet reason, seems GENUINELY gripped by the ethical problem of politics/celebrity/media, and not by any particular social issues. He doesn't ask anyone about political issues and his subjects' comments are mostly limited to the subject at hand, the confluence of politics, celebrity, and the media.
Sixty years ago it was mandated that the networks devote at least some part of their air time to news, as a public service. The news departments of all networks consistently lost money, but they were willingly done by professionals as pro bono publico. Now it's not about public service but ratings.