Twentymiglia
If the age of Trump has given us anything, it’s the confidence to admit that not all opinions are equal. For a long time, respectable media outlets seemed hell-bent on appearing neutral even in the face of the absurd. Desperate not be labeled “biased,” journalists engaged in a kind of “theater of fairness,” dignifying the outrageous opinions of its guests with airtime. (Remember Orly Taitz?)
Director Adam Bhala Lough takes this exact “fair and balanced” approach in Alt-Right: The Age of Rage which premiered at SXSW on Monday, March 9th. This time, the effect is exactly as you would expect; give a bunch of white supremacists the microphone and they end up sounding like blazing lunatics.
Set just before and immediately after the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, the documentary portrays the emergence of white supremacy under Trump and the citizens devoted to stopping its rise. The film makes use of historical footage, interviews, and internet footage, most notably, that horrible moment when James Alex Fields drove into a crowd of protestors. It’s events like these which seem to punctuate the Alt-Right’s argument.
Even Richard Spencer’s creepy erudition cannot seem to explain the connection between racially motivated mass shootings and the discourse of the Alt-Right. He freely admits that the faction attracts people “who might be ill in some way.” His main response to his Antifa counterpart, Daryle Jenkins, is to make fun of the activist’s weight. Throw in a few ill-conceived maps regarding the future geography of race in America and you’ll be certain of what you already know: these people are dumb.
And yet, Lough gives Antifa the same treatment giving audiences the opportunity to judge this faction with an equally critical eye. After all, if this is the Age of Rage, we are all part of the problem. A more careful study would have to be made to see exactly how each side of the argument is structured. But my guess is, if we find Daryle Jenkins more palatable, it’s because he is. Even his most fiery rhetoric seems to come from a place of joy, justice, and ordinary kindness. The man has no need of complicated maps, references to history, or cryptic foreign phrases. He just hates Fascists.
At 112 minutes, the film feels a touch too long. At times, the storytelling feels mono-dynamic. Is anything new being said? Probably not. But the message bears repeating. I would encourage Lough to make another documentary on Nazism in America, a topic touched upon at the start of the film and perhaps more frightening than anything contemporary.
The main take-away for me was this: as weird as these times are, we’ve been here before.
If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing it!
