“…there are 47 percent…who are dependent upon government, who
believe that they are victims, who believe the government has a responsibility
to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to health care, to food,
to housing, to you-name-it. ... My job is not to worry about those people.”
-Mitt Romney (2012)
The science-fiction horror thriller The
Purge (2013) takes place in a dystopian-styled future world where the wealthy elite
have thoroughly internalized Mitt Romney’s 2012 “makers and takers” narrative (quoted above) and re-created America in that very
image. They have done so intentionally and purposefully, and branded themselves the U.S.’s “new founding fathers.”
This film from James DeMonaco thus showcases
what might reasonably occur when Americans by-and-large decide that nearly half-of-their
fellow citizens are worthless moochers who -- shockingly -- feel entitled “to food!” How dare they?
Long story short: it’s okay to kill such moochers,
because they are just miserable takers sucking off the tit of an otherwise healthy
society. The new founding fathers have
thus pinpointed a way to cut out society’s apparent “fat:” by imposing one 12-hour
period of lawlessness a year in which all crimes, even murder, are legal.
During that span, called “The Purge,” many of
the rich especially enjoy murdering representatives of the so-called 47
percent, who, in keeping with Romney’s coded comment, tend to be of an ethnic minority,
or live in poverty. Those people don’t
actually see themselves as victims, as the quotation suggests, however, but those executing the violence
of the purge certainly do…
I realize some readers don’t like it when politics are mentioned here regarding movie analysis.
That’s fine, but if you can’t intelligently talk
politics in regards to movies sometimes, you have nothing left to interpret or
discuss, except special effects, or performances. And there are plenty of other movie blogs out
there that will focus on those subjects.
But as I've said before, I believe every movie is a reflection of
its times and context to one degree or another.
Some movies carry messages that might be
considered conservative (think of Zardoz [1974] with its re-assertion
of traditional family values over the left-leaning “communes” of its age), and
some movies carry messages that may be considered liberal (think of John Carpenter’s
take-down of the Reagan Revolution in They Live [1988]).
If we ignore what those films “say” in terms of
their visuals, narrative, and thematic content, we aren’t fully engaging with
and understanding that work, or the artist’s intent.
But more than either of those two science
fiction films, perhaps, The Purge is really an incendiary polemic, a work of art which knowingly
and determinedly raises controversial issues so as to play the role of agent
provocateur.
The Purge has already been frequently compared to Rod Serling’s The
Twilight Zone (1959 – 1964), a series that played the role of
provocateur on a regular basis, and which created fictional dystopian societies
that commented on conformity (“Eye of the Beholder,” “Number 12 Looks Just Like
You,”) or illiteracy (“The Obsolete Man”) to name just two issues.
The Purge takes our world’s current
fascination with the “makers and takers” narrative, Ayn Rand philosophy, and
gun rights issues to forge a cold-hearted, futuristic world in which the answer to American
prosperity is not to lift all boats, but to shoot holes in the boats that are
already sinking.
As a critic, I admire The Purge for so nimbly
tying together virtually every aspect of our current national debate into a
polemic of such power, rage, and imagination.
My only wish is that the film used logic more liberally in terms of character behavior, and cleared-up some relationship
points between the dramatis personae so that the details of the story were more absorbing or suspenseful.
In other words, The Purge works better as
a searing polemic than it does as an actual story that makes sense, or features characters we are meant to care for. I
still would give the film a recommendation, however, for the issues and context it
addresses with such brawny, blazing imagination.
It’s been a long-time since
we have gotten a dystopian film of such raw power and energy (I was reminded,
actually, of the cut-throat British film No Blade of Grass [1970] in that
regard). Accordingly, The Purge might be forgiven its story and character trespasses -- of which there are many -- because it sincerely attempts to function on almost entirely cerebral or intellectual territory.
In a summer blockbuster season, that's no small achievement, perhaps. Where most movies are dumb and appeal to the lowest common denominator, The Purge is smart and scary.
In the year 2022, America has been “reborn”
thanks to the “new” founding fathers.
The crime rate and unemployment are down, thanks to the institution of “the
Purge,” an annual 12-hour spree of violence in which all crimes are legal.
As the 2022 purge nears, affluent security-system
salesman James Sandin (Ethan Hawke) goes into home lock-down mode with his wife,
Mary (Lena Headey), his daughter Zoey (Adelaide Kane) and son Charlie (Max
Burkholder).
But during the purge, young Charlie witnesses a
bloody stranger (Edwin Hodge) crying out for help beyond the Sandin home, and
releases the security system to permit him access.
Unfortunately, the bloody stranger is being
pursued by a group of rich, preppy “purgers” who see Charlie’s decision to save
the bloody stranger as a violation of their Constitutional rights.
They inform the Sandins that the Bloody
Stranger must be released, or the purgers will break into the house and kill
everyone…including the Sandins...
The Purge hinges on a basic question of morality.
That question involves the nature of the
Bloody Stranger. He is a black man, and
homeless, according to the dialogue in the film. Because he is defined as a “taker" in terms of this future-society, then, does that mean
he deserves to die? Does he have no value at all?
More to the point, does the Bloody Stranger's nature as one of the “non-elite” mean
that his life counts less than Mr. Sandin’s life does, or Mrs. Sandin’s, or
Charlie’s, or Zoey’s? Is it right to trade his life for theirs because he has the wrong skin color, or was unlucky enough to be born in the wrong neighborhood
Because the Bloody Stranger can’t afford to
contribute in the way that Mr. Sandin can, is he a “moocher,” and a “vermin,”
as the lead purger suggests?
And does being
without money or a home mean that you have nothing worthwhile to contribute to society,
and therefore deserve to be killed?
If one believes in the makers vs. takers
argument, then The Purge presents the logical conclusion to that brand of
thinking. If people are to be judged bad
and useless because they feel entitled “to food” and to health care, as Romney suggest in his unforced comments, then what should
their punishment be for that perceived trespass?
Now, this may be a slippery slope
argument. Romney most certainly wasn't advocating the murder of Americans. But the point is this: once political rhetoric
divides American people into makers and takers, discounting almost fifty percent
of the population in the process, is it at all unlikely that hatred and
judgment are stoked in some quarters towards those takers?
And if the line of demarcation is that the “moocher”
people feel entitled “to food,” then it’s even worse than that. Food is a basic
survival need. I mean…who doesn’t feel
that their children are entitled to eat?
How many Americans, I wonder, really,
fall into the category of having depending on government to get through a tough
time? If we believe the statistics, then
it is actually closer
to 96% of Americans who are “moochers” and “takers.” Every time you take a mortgage deduction on your house, for instance, you are relying on government assistance.. Every time you take out a loan for your education, you're doing it too. And when your grandparents rely on Medicare for their health needs? Same thing.
They're all moochers extraordinaire, by this heartless philosophy of life.
And what does that number, 96% take us to?
It
takes us to the paradigm established by Occupy Wall Street approximately two
years ago, the division between the 99% and the 1%. Indeed, that equation seems to be the very division that The
Purge is actually playing upon.
Notice, for instance, that the Sandins live in a very upper-class gated
community of McMansions. In the past
decade, most middle-classers have been priced out of that life-style, so again,
what we’re talking about here is a world of the ultra-rich vs. everyone else.
That same dynamic appears in the nature of the
film’s villain, the masked “purger” who is clearly the scion of some ultra-rich
family, right down to his prep-school/academy uniform.
This purger is not only well-educated, but entitled about his rights. He feels his constitutional rights are being
violated because he is not allowed to kill a homeless person, and in this case,
the law is on his side. The laws in this case seem to have been made by the few, to perpetrate violence on the many.
A key moment in the film also establishes the
inherent unfairness of the purge. What
happens to people who can’t afford The Sandin’s expensive security system?
On the night of the purge, they are on their
own. No help. No police, no firemen, no emergency services.
In a not entirely oblique way, this facet of the film is the critique of Ayn Rand, I
mentioned above, a philosopher who believed in enlightened self-interest, and the
benefits of a true meritocracy, called “objectivism.”
Yet what some people might remind us at this juncture is that Ayn Rand never accounted for the
fact that for a true meritocracy to exist, everybody must start at the same point,
not at different points in the race we call life. If everyone is to have the same access to the American Dream, or
the same opportunities that a meritocracy implies, then they all must begin on
the same starting line, or in lieu of that, at least get help in the form of oversight from government to ameliorate the difference.
For example: how hard was it really for Mitt Romney to
succeed as a businessman given his starting place in life as the son of a wealthy entrepreneur
and former state governor?
Now contrast
that starting point with the poor kid who was raised with a father in jail, and
with a single mother working two-shifts a day. Is that mother a moocher and a taker, or someone who didn’t get the same shot as Romney did to begin with? She's working fifty hours a week but still poor...so is her child entitled "to food?"
One could reasonably conclude that this is the inherent unfairness and fallacy of
Ayn Rand’s philosophy, if applied as a philosophy of governing.
The Purge goes further and says
that in the new age of American prosperity, the rich actually get the benefits of
their wealth in terms of their very continued survival. They
can afford the weapons to defend themselves and kill others, as well as the security systems they require to protect
their families. These are defenses that the poor can’t afford.
The film also suggests that the purge is
actually a new form of corporate welfare: a tool specifically utilized to drive
up gun sales (as the closing radio voice-over establishes) and security system sales at the same time that it drives down the
number of poor “takers” mooching off the system.
There’s also evidence of modern Congressional hypocrisy
at work here in the workings of the purge.
Just as many in Congress have refused to give up their lavish
healthcare benefits while simultaneously denying it to America at-large, The Purge reveals that members of
Congress are immune to the dictates of the Purge. They have thus exempted themselves from the
danger that they expose Americans to every single year.
In other words, it’s the Purge for thee, and
not for me.
What’s so impressive about The Purge is the way it
accounts for all of these roiling factors and ideas in modern America, from the corporate/government
nexus, to the influx of Ayn Rand’s philosophies in the public
square.
But the final question the movie
raises is one of paramount importance: Is this the kind of America you really want? Where your fellow American is deemed worthy
of death because he or she has faced some hard times, because he or she feel
entitled to…food?
The Purge explores these ideas with imagination and
sometimes to the exclusion of narrative clarity, alas For instance, the Sandins in the film
continue to separate from one another during the invasion on their home, a
factor which provides for repetitive, multiple and tiresome hostage opportunities. You would think that after one such hostage
situation, the family would get the message, and stick together.
Similarly, the film makes a major point about
young Charlie feeling upset about the nature and violence of the purge. This anxiety about such a dangerous night is
natural, at least starting out. But
Charlie looks to be twelve or thirteen years old, and so he would have gone
through this family and national ritual several times already. His fears would already be quelled. He’d know what the purge was all about, and
not feel the level of anxiety he reveals in the film.
Alarmingly, the Sandins are a weird bunch
too.
They don’t relate like members of a normal family, and in a situation like the yearly purge, that’s a problem because as
viewers, we immediately suspect that they could turn on one another in a heartbeat. Ethan Hawke and Lena Headey have no chemistry
together whatsoever, and so as they sip their huge goblets of red wine, one inevitably
wonders if Mrs. Sandin has poisoned her husband, or is looking to kill him in
some other way.
The Sandins also have a discussion
at one point about whether or not the family has ever gone out and “purged.” They meet eyes, and a pregnant look crosses between
them. A shared secret?
But whatever experience they seem
to be remembering and sharing is never transmitted to the audience...and it seems important given the film's context. Did they kill someone? Do they not really believe in the purge philosophy?
The film’s polemic would be stronger with
more information about how these protagonists actually feel about this new,
government-imposed ritual. Mr. and Mrs. Sandin are, after all, old enough to remember a time before the purge. They spout propaganda about the purge, but viewers don't ever know if this is just a parroting of said propaganda or genuine belief.
Finally, however, The Purge succeeds because it
culminates with an incredibly powerful idea: that real strength comes not in
killing the weak, but in showing mercy and love to those less-fortunate than
yourself; those who have not had the breaks that you received
The Sandin family continues to exist after a
night of purging because of one act of mercy that it shows the Bloody
Stranger. Abraham Lincoln once noted
that mercy often bears “richer fruits” than strict justice, and the film’s
conclusion is an example of that fact. A good deed is returned, thus proving the inherent value of the "moocher," since he understands what he has been given, and returns that gift in kind.
We will always be a strong nation when we take
care of our brothers and sisters, says The Purge, rather than disdaining those who weren’t
born into lives of excessive wealth and privilege.
For (per William Blake) "where mercy, love, and pity dwell, there God is dwelling too."