BOSTON — During this final week before the election the art
house theater a couple blocks down from me has been running a
series entitled, “Films to See Before You Vote.” A sampling of the
titles of these “documentaries” should give a pretty good hint as
to which way the wind blows here in the People’s Republic:
Bush’s Brain (Karl Rove is evil); Bushwhacked (George W.
Bush is evil); Orwell Rolls in His Grave (John Ashcroft is
evil); Hijacking Catastrophe (Donald Rumsfeld is evil);
Weapons of Mass Deception (George Tenet is evil); A
Day’s Work for A Day’s Pay (capitalism is evil); and, finally,
Preventative Warriors (America is evil). Sorry, Colin.
Sorry, Condoleezza. If you want a movie, you’re going to have to be
more evil.
Although most of these films are static as white noise, there is
an odd bird smack dab in the middle of the line-up: Let’s Get
Frank, a recently completed paean to the infamously wacky
Massachusetts Congressman. Really, is there any better proof that
every bored lefty in America has begun trying to become the next
Michael Moore? Such a film begs the question: Has the left really
run so low on heroes that the best an ambitious young liberal
filmmaker can come up with is to follow Barney Frank around for two
years?
It’s not that Frank isn’t an interesting character. But his
story seems an odd choice to get the base fired up. After all,
Frank is certainly well known, but mostly for the fact that a young
man ran a male prostitution ring out of the Congressman’s D.C.
residence in the late eighties. Explanation? Frank openly admitted
to paying the young man for sex, but vehemently denied knowing
about the prostitution ring. Not exactly the sort of
standard-bearer you want to trot out to swing voters.
But, then again, no one actually has to worry about it because
Let’s Be Frank is hardly about Barney Frank at all.
Basically, it’s one long reel of Frank’s one-liners during the
Clinton impeachment hearings, complete with out-of-context pictures
of Republicans looking chastened. These jokes might be funny if you
think all conservatives are bigoted, simple-minded creatures who
are destroying the country. Otherwise, not so funny. There is
almost no back story, no “Here’s how he got his start.” The film
begins with an interview with Frank where he explains how he was
particularly well suited to defend Clinton because he had been
through his own sex scandal.
Actually, Let’s Be Frank sort of resembles an outtakes
reel from The Hunting of the President. There is no end to
the Democratic Party’s obsession with viewing everything and
everyone through a Clintonian lens. Case in point: A film
purportedly about a Massachusetts Congressman who was first elected
in 1981 focuses on his actions defending Bill Clinton for two
years.
Later, the film spends all of three minutes or so delving into
this having a live-in-prostitute business, with Frank dismissing
the whole scandal, thusly: “Last time I checked, being stupid
wasn’t a violation of the rules.” That line actually got applause.
And when Frank said the lesson of his experience, as well as
Clinton’s, was that a sex scandal should not and does not “limit”
or “disqualify” someone from climbing the ladder of political
success, the crowd cheered like it was 1999 all over again. At one
point in the film, Frank accuses Republicans and the Washington
Times of “plotting to ruin my social life.”
Readers may be surprised to know that, according to Frank, what
he and Bill Clinton were actually doing during those dark days was
fighting a “fundamental battle for the soul of America.” And,
better yet, they won! Rejoice, ye solicitors of prostitution!
Praise be to adulterers! Barney Frank has called the culture war in
your favor! The hundred or so people I watched it with could hardly
have been happier.
On a side note, one of the major targets of the movie is the
Spectator’s own Bob Barr, who is basically derided for not
sinking to Frank’s level. This essentially means that Barr speaks
in measured tones about the letter of the law and Constitutional
responsibility while Frank petulantly interrupts to mock him every
30 seconds or so. If one can judge a man by his enemies, then Bob
Barr is doing all right in my book.
THE FILM FADES OUT with a grainy black and white montage of Frank
and his partner (24 years his junior) frolicking on a beach
together. Moments later, the Congressman himself bounded on stage
to take questions to thunderous applause. Candid and upbeat, Frank
had the glow of a politician who knows beyond the shadow of a
reasonable doubt that he is about to crush his token opposition.
His television spots here in Boston have been fun stuff. “I’m
Barney Frank and I authorized this message,” he says smiling at the
end of each one. “I can’t imagine who else would.” It probably
didn’t hurt that everyone kept referring to him as, “Massachusetts’
next senator,” either. Senator Frank —yet another benefit of a
Kerry victory next week.
Frank then proceeded to make the crowd giggle with delight as he
offered up some red meat liberalism. He told the crowd, for
example, that things have gotten so tense politically that
escorting voters to the polls today was like “escorting women into
abortion clinics” ten years ago — not a particularly pleasant
image. They nodded sagely. He talked about how much fun he had
using the “weapon” of “ridicule” against those incorrigible
Republicans.
And then he told them what they all desperately wanted to
believe:
“The momentum is on the liberal side,” Frank said. “We were set
back by September 11, but we just have to keep clawing away.”
Then again, if the momentum was really on their side would it
really have to be said so explicitly? Republicans are showing
similar symptoms of fatigue and worry. That’s the byproduct of
living in the 50/50 nation: With no clear majority partisans on
both sides are always looking for positive reinforcement. When in
retreat, adrenaline kicks in and you fight hard to gain ground, and
victory, no matter how fleeting, allows breathing room and plans
for expansion of gains. But stalemate? Just barely holding power or
just barely out of power? That is demoralizing and exhausting.
Frank didn’t stay long. The ball game was calling, he said. As
the audience filed out, I stayed in my seat and waited for the
crowd to clear. They were all pleased as punch with what had just
transpired. People were greeting Frank’s mother with the sort of
deference normally reserved for a foreign dignitary. I thought of
the late great men buried in this city: Samuel Adams, Paul Revere,
John Hancock, and all the many others. No theater is showing
documentaries on these men as we gear up for next Tuesday’s
election. I wonder what they might think of what passes for a hero
in America, circa 2004?
