Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room

Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, review by rich from Adonis Mirror.

I recently had the chance to view Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. Like many, I knew the basics of the Enron story, I could be a snide finger pointer at the business world like the average liberal-type, but somehow I thought the nitty-gritty details were beyond my comprehension: why bother? The film did a decent job at explaining why I should bother, why we should all bother.

Plus, there’s enough “how did they get that tape?” moments to keep you enthralled, footage of stuff that you can’t believe there’s footage of, like a video-greeting card that George W. Bush did on behalf of a Ken Lay as a gift for a friend. Things that defy explanation, like a taped self-parody Jeff Skilling did about the company’s bookkeeping policies, or recorded conversations between Enron floor-traders about how they were breaking the California electric grid on purpose.

On the other hand, there’s also some “why did they use that tape?” moments. Primarily, about 45 seconds worth of strip club footage—likely bought from a stock company—that boosted the documentary to an R-rating for no good reason.

The footage in question plays out during a discussion of Lou Pai, the lucky Enron executive who “got out first,” leaving the company and cashing in his stock at Enron’s peak in order to meet the terms of a divorce settlement. Talking heads in the film repeatedly refer to him as “mysterious,” as if he were some sort of shadowy figure that was appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly. They did everything short of calling him a ninja: wouldn’t want to be racist when you’re being racist, after all.

Indeed, much was made of Pai’s patronage of strip clubs (supposedly the cause of his divorce), the humorous trope of the lusty—yet safely tiny and effete—Asian guy being played for all its worth.

Enron folklore claims that Pai once explained that he splashed gasoline on himself before he went home so his wife couldn’t smell the perfume of his strippers: the punch line of the rumor had it that during one such explanation, one of his fellow Enron club-goers retorted “your wife probably thinks you’re fucking a gas station attendant,” causing Pai, in revenge, to ship him off to the far reaches of Canada. Of course, if he was hanging out with his lackeys at a strip club, shooting the shit with them, how mysterious could he really be?

The film does not make it clear whether the footage shown was of an actual club that Pai had visited or if it was just stock footage they had purchased. Alex Gibney, the director, does little elaboration during his commentary track: he seems utterly obsessed with trying to position himself as a music geek and sounds consistently tickled by the cleverness of his choices. He does remark on his selection of Philip Glass’ “Einstein on the Beach” and how he saw the interplay between it, the strip club, and Jeff Skilling’s belief in evolutionary biology. Then he pointed out that the breast implant was invented in Houston, as if that fact was the crowning piece of synergism in his argument.

For all the tsk-tsking the film does about “hubris,” it’s ironic that Alex Gibney’s own fascination with boobs disqualifies it from being played for many audiences. Not only does it become iffy for educational settings, but it almost has the tone of: this is for liberal people who go to far flung indy-film festivals; if you’re not hip enough to get past the boobs and just view them as wallpaper, you’re not cool enough to watch our movie.

Gibney knew he was safe from feminist criticism: a complaining feminist would have to admit that she thought the exploitation of women’s bodies superseded the importance of people knowing about why all kinds of middle-class people lost their pensions. The feminist critic who snubbed the film on account of Gibney’s strip clubs would look like a spoiled child, selfishly obsessed with her own “niche” issues.

On the other hand, it’s fairly safe to point out that anger at Enron is a non-partisan emotion. By taking the hipster pose regarding nudity, Gibney was purposefully alienating conservative viewers who could be best reached by the film, particularly with its footage of connections between Bush and the company’s top executives. Numerous critics have pointed that out, if only in the margins of websites.

One final note on Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room: much is seemingly made of the macho atmosphere at the company, not just the strip clubs, the Darwinian “survival of the fittest” mentality, and even the “extreme” adventure outings that employees took together, racing dirt bikes through bone grinding courses. Jeff Skilling had a phrase he spun about how he appreciated “men with spikes.”

What interests me—and I don’t say that lightly, I mean, I’m completely interested down to my last molecule right now—is how such gender treatments are so often used in media to give a pejorative view of something that people already have a pejorative view of. In other words, people hate Enron. If we show people that Enron was sexist, they will hate it more and feel safe and informed in their hatred for it.

However, even after seeing that bad things can be sexist and that sexist things can be bad, viewers still don’t have the power to see that sexism, itself, is bad.

I think “media people,” for lack of a better descriptor, are aware of that phenomenon. I think they exploit it. More on this from me in the future.

But really, how effective was the Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room from a feminist perspective if, immediately after viewing it, one self-avowed Leftist blogger wrote:

Jeff Skilling was right about one thing

As much as I despise Enron and injury they perpetrated (although employees could have saved their retirement through diversification!), Jeff Skilling was right about one thing. I also like men with spikes. No, this is not a gay metaphor. It means that men should be men. We should be extreme and we should pursue until we kill or are killed.

Ever see those older men at the mall whimpering around like a castrated dog while they wait for their wives to finish trying on clothes? Kill me if I ever lose that much direction.

The first comment on the post was from a conservative rival who called him a “pussy” for being against the war on Iraq. The blogger called him a “pussy” back.

Please comment directly at authors blog.

How to win a cock-fight: review of the movie 300...

What the #$%& was I thinking you ask, I wasn't... yes, I just witnessed the biggest load of tripe ever.

Short version or long version? Why bother, you can find a detailed review of the movie elsewhere - spoilers and all, in fact it seems many reviewers have already called out this tripe for what it is on rotten tomatoes and Imdb (honestly writing a review for this is just too easy).

Short Version:

Don't waste any money on this overinflated hard-on (I didn't - I watched it for free). I don't know whether it was the rampant Islamophobia (despite Islam forming as a religion 1000 yrs after this war took place!), anti-black racism, white supremacy, the homophobia, anti-disableism, the obvious war-promoting or the spoils of war (i.e. objectified women) which got to me the most. Of course it could be the moral of the story: The only way to win a cock-fight (or "fighting for justice, freedom and humanity") is to get a bigger "stronger, harder" and "harder, stronger" cock (not my words, the movie's - and yes, they did say it TWICE in case I missed it the first time) while wiping out the bad guys i.e. asians, africans and persians (i.e. ANYONE non-white).

Long Version:

The movie's about some war in Greece set in 480BC, Battle of Thermopylae, based on the Frank Miller graphic novel - it's something I won't pretend I even knew about until today, so let's just ignore the 'history' of it and focus on it's cinematic glory. Really, there's no point in discussing the 'history' of this battle because the $&%*ing movie is an American pro-war propagandist movie not about 'the spartans or the greeks' but American-version of this battle which happened nearly 2500 yrs ago.

Basically, the Spartans, led by King Leonidas, have been asked to surrender Sparta/Greece to the Persian empire. A black male messenger informs Leonidas of this. When Leonidas's wife interrupts their discussion - he says "how dare you let your wife speak on these matters?"

Of course the only thing his wife is good for is bearing babies so she says "because only Spartan women BIRTH REAL MEN"...And yes, the 'pro-empowerful' camp of the audience lets out a little cheer when this line is spake (I'm still scratching my head bout that).

The interesting thing about this brief little discussion is that 1)it's an implicit acknowledgement that women in the messenger's country must be treated like dirt - remember the imperialist dynamic of "evil coloured patriarchal cultures?" vs. liberated western women? 2)liberated western women (read white) in Hollywood are generally empowered via their value to men - whether it's as a sex-object, love-interest, their adoption of masculinity or 'traditional' motherhood.

So the stage for white-hetero-male-patriarchal-supremacy is set from the get-go.

So instead of surrendering, Leonidas kills the BLACK Persian messenger and his black allies because they've 'insulted his wife and Sparta'. A violently glorified chopping a black man's head scene follows, really it's grotesque.

A flashback technique is employed to tell the tale of how Leonidas has been trained to be a fierce warrior from the age of seven, when the barbaric/noble Spartans start training their young to be warriors. The flashback of young, pre-pubescent, Leonidas proving his manlihood by slaying a wolf while only wearing a loin cloth in the freezing darkness of winter is referred to several times throughout the movie to reinforce Leonidas' ferocity.

Homophobia:

The movie doesn't even pretend to be anything but white supremacist, misogynist, islamophobic, ableist, or homophobic, in fact it prides itself on all these accounts. If we missed the homophobia at the beginning of the movie when King Leonidas briefly refers to Athenians as "Boy-loving philosophers", we get it again ten-fold repeatedly throughout the movie.

When Leonidas' army of 300 meets a neighbouring Greek city's army of 1000 men, Leonidas justifies the manly-manliness of his army because the "artists, sculptors, and blacksmiths" of the neighbouring city's army do not real manly-men make. The conclusion is that a few good men, are better than the lives of 1000 (this is enforced later on too).

When battle takes off, we find out that the evil Xerxes (god-like emperor of Persia) is an effeminate, heavily ornated, man-woman-transgender-loving horndog.

The funniest thing about my cinematic experience though, was that my companion, in this case evil incarnate; a gay, occupationally effeminate MOC, was drooling over the washboard abs, chiseled thighs and pecs of the uber-manly-man Spartan Army (yeah, okay so was I :P). So, despite it's obvious homophobia (i.e. it's literal message) this movie's reliance on extreme gender conformity was almost a parody of itself visually - i.e. there is no way you could take the narrow gender roles seriously without thinking dirty thoughts about the Spartan's in their loin cloths. At some point there was a duo of two younger Spartan's whom my companion repeatedly wished would make out - of course until one of them was decapitated.

Now, I don't think this was some clever-pomo-gender-fucking-theory on screen, that would give an otherwise horrible movie too much credit, and besides the lines between good/evil repetitive jabs at gay men in comparison to manly men were stark. I just think it was a series of bad choices made by the movie-makers and ended up reading differently than they expected. But saying this was a 'homoerotic' movie, as many critics have cited it as - would be negligent and would be like saying that football players, basketball players, other 'manly-men' are not really 'violent' but rather enjoy watching each other shower... or some other more clever analogy that I can't think of at the moment.

Sexy Nekkid Chicks, "white" vs. "other":

Yes, this movie has a lot of 'sexy nekkid chicks'. The first scene is where we're entertained by what we find out later to be a "white, nude, drunk, teenage girl". Girls gone wild anyone? Hurrah. And guess what? Said girl is really OWNED by very ugly priests because she is an oracle, and we find out that they get to fuck her too, cause they have "dark manly hearts" and women who are hot "are cursed by their own beauty", talk about victim-blaming...Totally unnecessary scene.

Later on, because manly man, Leonidas is urgin for the plungin, he 'bangs' his wife (Queen Gorgo) every which way to nth-multiple orgasm - to which even the the couple next to me laughed "Okay, we get the point already!" *snarky laugh*.

These former women are both white. One part is revolting, but obviously the way it was shot - it was meant to tantalize the viewer with it's 'mystical' elements, and when we find out this erotic dance is by a drunk, teenage girl, it's well after the scene is over - so what, the main point of it was to objectify...

Both of the white women in the two scenes are 'property' of their rightful owners, the white men in their immediate lives - the priests and husband. Their 'sexuality' is dutiful, non-deviant, conforming and 'moral' whether that is for a group of men who 'facilitate religion' (thus their sexual value is extended for the benefit of the entire community) or whether for their husbands (in this case the KING, and you bet your ass if the King don't get his rocks off... well).

But later, when we are introduced to a whole harem of hot, ornated, tattooed, coloured sexy chicks it's more like we've been thrown into a visual orgy of totally debaucherous sexuality. They are aggressive, forceful, defiant, unaware of their obvious ownership because even though they are owned they are willing participants in their own 'degradation'. We see these women of every single colour, other than white, defiantly throwing themselves at the disfigured/disabled/gollum-like character who is a traitor to Leonidas. They tempt and snare him into being an asshole and betraying his leader while luring him to the 'dark side'.

So basically the set-up of 'the dutiful/sexually moral white woman' vs. 'amoral Jezebel' [link to interesting article] is in place because of the way the women are sexually portrayed. Their sexuality is DIFFERENT. Their all objectified, but are morally different.

Later, Queen Gorgo (Leonidas' wife) is raped by a janus-faced politician. After which she gives a passionate speech in the male council chambers on behalf of the 'mothers/daughters/sisters/wives/families' of the 300 soldiers that have sacrificed their lives for the betterment of the city-state (again their value in relation to men). It is imperative that they send more troops to help them out. Gorgo's morality and better judgement are implicit in her being a 'liberated white woman'.

The thing is - the women in the harem are all SLAVES, we've heard this comment repeatedly via the open-conjectured-threats of what would happen to the women of sparta if the evil Persians got hold of them. One character goes so far to say "the women would become slaves, or much worse" (i.e. sex slaves). I.e. so if the harem consists of SLAVES, they are obviously 'victims of rape'. Yet, the only sympathetic rape(s) here (potential and realized), are those of the moral white women of Sparta - not the coloured women who are not victims but rather 'sexually deviant' from the get go.

Colourism:

Do you see any significant difference between the skin-colour of Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro) or Leonidas (Gerard Butler), in this picture here? not really... Throughout the movie it is obvious that the Americans Spartans are all white and the other's are all deviant coloured people... yet, we're also aware of the obvious use of 'brown-face' throughout the movie. Cause Xerxes definitely does not look like Rodrigo Santoro.

Genetic variation and thus skin-colour are more varied within a 'group' than between 'groups'. So it's rather silly for them to consistently employ such stark colour differences anyways.

The Persian army is also substantially disfigured/ugly. The terrorists Persian Army, also employ 'dishonest tactics' to win the war. I.e. by employing sneak-attack strategies, strange monsters and 'magic'...

American-Propaganda - Conclusion:

The only way to win a war is to send in more troops, otherwise we all lose. The closing shot ends with an army of 30K plus who are all willing to 'sacrifice' their lives for the rest of us. They are "brave heroes" who die "a glorious death".

More on the obvious homophobia of the movie, here.

Cross-posted at Leftist Looney Lunchbox, comments open everywhere.

Myth, Hollywood & White American Conquest

Myth, Hollywood & White American Conquest by Jo Swift.

The White Supremacist Syndrome Hollywood has shaped the "tough guy" image of the USA and exports this "don't mess with me" persona to the rest of the world as its contribution to the advancement of American jingoism and imperialism. The frontiersman represents the epitome of American masculinity. He's everywhere fighting Indians, Nazis,Commies, Arabs, sissies and space creatures, playing out the mythical narrative of American birth and continual rebirth Hollywood loves this guy because nothing is more American than he is.
The myth sells a lot of movie tickets. The Frontier myth is America's secular creation narrative--the story of how the waves of the historical frontier experience simultaneously birthed and cleansed the nation.

In this way European culture was said to be stripped away by the challenges posed on and by the savage frontier; and then, in turn, through an ill-defined, nearly mystical, quasi-magical process of environmental determinism, America was born.

That is, as the inevitable result of this transformation, the prototypical American emerged--Natty Bumpoo, John Wayne, Indiana Jones, the Marlboro Man--take your pick.

Hollywood has played and continues to play an important role in this process for two reasons. First, movies serve as our most influential history teachers, reaching and swaying audiences that the professional historian cannot even dream of.

Just think about it. You know what gladiators, Nazis, the Titanic and cowboys looked like because you've seen them in film (or, possibly worse, on television).

Second, the frontiersman represents the epitome of American masculinity. And he's everywhere fighting Indians, Nazis, Commies, Arabs, sissies and space creatures, playing out the mythical narrative of American birth and continual rebirth. Hollywood loves this guy because nothing is more American than he is (and, for corresponding reasons, he sells a lot of movie tickets).

As a result, Hollywood has been instrumental in promoting America's imperial project. Without domestic support aggressive foreign policy is not workable in the long term (witness George W. Bush).

The formula pays rich dividends, too, whether it's Indiana Jones smacking down Arabs, Hart Solo gunfighting his way across the galaxy, Sigourney Weaver as Ripley playing against gender type by beating up an alien, or the Duke picking off Injuns/ Vietcong in the Green Berets. The choices are nearly endless and the recipe is simple.

All you need is a version of the frontier story and a leading man who can play a plausible frontiersman--in short, a hunk and a few savages.

Visual images are far more effective than words in relating the simple emotive force of myth.

A myth is nothing more than a story that a culture tells to itself about itself in order to portray itself in a positive light. It's all about perception. Physical reality is largely beside the point.

Here's the basic frontier mythical tale. See if you recognize it. A ruggedly handsome, innately clever and athletic white male simply appears on the frontier, where free land abounds.

He's challenged. Maybe it's from Indians, Mexicans, men in black hats, varmints, whatever. Doesn't matter. The point is the setting--civilization versus savagery. And that the white guy prevails.

He saves the day and he sets the standard.

He conquers the land and makes it his own. He makes it fit for civilization, for women and children and decency and apple pie. It's the movie Far and Away, starring Tom Cruise.

It's Richard Harris in Man in the Wilderness. It's Bogart in African Queen. John Wayne in Hondo, in the Man Who Shot Lierty Valance, in Stagecoach. Gary Cooper in The Virginian.

Kevin Costner as the fair-haired saviour of all Indians (except the Pawnee) in Dances with Wolves. Star Wars. Dirty Harry. And on and on.

It's nearly everywhere in American popular culture. And its signifiers are so powerful--tumbleweed, Monument Valley, cowboys, feathered headdresses, gunfighters, saloons, men on horseback.

Clint Eastwood's eyes, that they have the power to invoke the myth in stories that fall well outside the frontier--as in advertising, science fiction, action movies, and the like.

While the symbols may seem innocuous--say, an ad for a jeep sitting atop a mesa in Arizona, or the skin color of the evil lion in Lion King, or the Hispanic accent of the bad bugs in a Bug's Life--they subtly reinforce (or not so subtly in the case of a typical Schwarznegger flick) white American conquest. Mark Anderson

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