World cinema has a long history of producing a wide array of political films that fall somewhere between light entertainment and piercing social commentary. While some films clearly fantasize sentimentality, such as in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” (Capra, 1939), the medium has at times been used exclusively for propagandizing extremist ideologies, like those of the Third Reich in “Triumph of the Will” (Riefenstahl, 1935).
This wide spectrum might explain why films have become polarizing, particularly those that focus on revolution and dictatorships. So much so that many films over the years have been severely criticized and even banned for political content. For example, “Battleship Potemkin” (Eisenstein, 1925) was banned in Finland for twenty years over concerns it might encourage a revolution. “The Great Dictator” (Chaplin, 1940) was likewise banned, though in Argentina, more than 30 years later for making fun of dictators.
It seems a large California winery has usurped the brand of its primary export, Pinot Grand Fenwick. His plan? To declare war on the United States but deliberately lose to receive a handsome reparations package.
Yet, somehow select political films remain void of repercussion. Even though some, such as “Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb” (Kubrick, 1964), may severely satirize powerful governments, they have been left unrestricted. That can be somewhat baffling when a film goes to great lengths to expose the absurdities of government officials mired in existential geopolitical realities.
Some films regarding politics might not even be taken seriously enough to be considered threatening at all. The amusing British satire, “The Mouse That Roared” (Arnold, 1959), is one such example that even the most sensitive national protectionist might be able to just sit back and enjoy.
The plot is more clever than complex. Prime Minister Count Mountjoy of the Duchy of Grand Fenwick concocts a scheme to revive the small European sovereign’s devastated economy. It seems a large California winery has usurped the brand of its primary export, Pinot Grand Fenwick. His plan? To declare war on the United States but deliberately lose to receive a handsome reparations package. This at first is met with skepticism, but eventually the governing body warms to the idea.
True, the movie may not have the darker satire of the political thriller “Z” (Gravas, 1969), nor did it create the hype of a looming international incident, as was the case with “The Interview” (Rogen/Goldberg, 2014). Yet, though the notion of this underhanded revanchism seems preposterous, the political guile depicted is as rational as it gets. In all its silliness, the film still holds up with elements of truth that expose the absurdities of oppositional political powers dominating today’s headlines. It could also make a government, take your pick, appear weak, vulnerable, even foolish.
This is not to say that “The Mouse That Roared” is cited as a vital tool used to influence the minds of a populous around the world. But its theme is a good example of how a kindly comedy, like any political film, cannot be so easily dismissed. In any film lies a potential that could be unleashed to wreak havoc on all things political. Consider the release of the Cannes Palme d’Or nominee, “The Apprentice” (2024). The controversial film about the early days of ex. U.S. President Donald Trump was threatened with lawsuits to prevent it from being shown in the United States.
In reality, politicians don’t need to fear the actual movies themselves, just the hyping mechanisms of partisan words, provocative images, and subtle, unashamed editorializing. They understand the power of these devices because they see how effectively they work in news media.
Recent contentious elections around the world, in countries like Venezuela and Sri Lanka, or even the one we are currently gearing up for in the United States, rely on hyperbolic rhetoric that uses economic suffering as a device to gain power. They have to because they know how their constituents think. Uncoincidentally, many related news events are often portrayed by media almost like fiction, as airtime and column space are filled with themes that sound more like the elements of a movie plot than the details of a political platform. A viewer is more likely to experience what seems like a trailer for an upcoming cinematic release that promotes tales of greed, deceit, and action than a news item that gets them up to date.
Recent contentious elections around the world, in countries like Venezuela and Sri Lanka, or even the one we are currently gearing up for in the United States, rely on hyperbolic rhetoric that uses economic suffering as a device to gain power.
That news media producers place intense spotlights on provocative narratives is a no brainer. Quite simply, they sell. These producers understand that the same current and historical political events inspiring filmmakers to create films, if done right, can grab widespread attention. It’s not news that political films can have a serious impact on social consciousness.
This while also raising the unsolvable dilemma on whether politics is more about power or economy. In the film industry, it’s certainly about economy, as the number of viewers will reveal a film’s reach, which is also precisely where the power of its message is substantialized.
The same goes for politics. In U.S. politics, the saying is “it’s the economy, stupid.” But it’s those who are vying for power who utter it. Even Grand Fenwick’s Prime Minister understands that.
