The other day I was having a conversation over lunch with my friend, Ben, who is a student of Roman literature. Although some consider it an aimless, catch-all major for a college student to choose, he explained the Roman origins of Liberal Arts are quite different than what we assume. Liberal comes from the latin phrase "artes liberales" meaning worthy of men born free. Liberal Arts were the free man's arts, withheld from slaves who were only taught
science and math. Liberal Arts were considered the "persuasive arts." Slaves didn't have access to this education because they were required to remain subservient, they could not have the power to persuade.
Then our conversation turned to film, and my friend started connecting dots between our American culture and its roots in Rome. We continued the conversation later over email, where he wrote,
A major studio might do a Gladiator or The Matrix but it is made to appeal to a massive audience. By its very nature, then, the film is in complete subservience to that audience. It confirms the audience's suspicions, it repeats their beliefs back to them. It serves no purpose higher than entertainment. I felt a twinge of irony while watching Gladiator, for example, as Maximus roared to the bloodthirsty Roman populace at the Coliseum, 'Are you not entertained?'...
Today, films appeal to all kinds of basic American values, not just American pride. If they don't, we don't like them and don't buy them.
When we sit down in a theater we expect to see movies that tell a story we want to hear, the one repeating our values back to us. Which is why I love Gone with the Wind. I watched it again the other night and rolled my eyes as Rhett Butler, personification of the rebellious hero with a heart of gold, embodied the American values of practicality and loyalty. But Scarlett kept throwing a monkey-wrench into each scene as she embodied our highest values of strength and courage and also our overlooked tendencies toward greed, ruthlessness and avoiding the present in favor of the future. She throws what we assume into question. The closing scene, with Scarlett looking into the camera saying, "After all, tomorrow is another day," is riddled with questions. Tomorrow you become a woman? Tomorrow you're a jerk to everybody in your life again? Tomorrow you exploit some more freed slaves? Tomorrow you find love? Tomorrow you use your wealth to help others? What?
For me it's an American question. What will we do with tomorrow? Our greatest strength is our greatest weakness. We are people who each day look toward the horizon, sometimes at the expense of the present or without regarding lessons of the past. I love that one of our most loved American movies calls into question our American values. In fact, Spout is banking on the fact that there are lots of people out there who love films that make us question.
It's one of the reasons we're in business. To find films that aren't playing the same old pep rally songs, but are exploring what it means to exist, right now.
We believe ultimately, as my friend Ben says, "A good movie teaches viewers how to watch the film, a good book teaches readers how to read it, and so on." We want to bring those films the attention they deserve.





Great points.
Getting a grip on the real "matrix" in which we live is a hard thing, though, isn't it? Like trying to straighten a paperclip - too much force without exactly the right balance, and it twists and bends the wrong way.
I can't imagine a much better source for any communicator who'd like to speak truth to Americans than one of your favorites - On Paradise Drive by David Brooks. Some of the most masterful use of the English language in existence, and unlike the Bible (as source of inspiration) it hasn't been co-opted and caveated by our American addictions. Yet.
For those who share Paul's ache, Brooks is a good way to get traction with the "now what" questions.
Posted by Pete Gall on December 8, 2005 02:56 PM