The very idea of Cameron frickin' Crowen operating under the assumption that he possesses the mental capacity to parse a statement by Straub and Huillet, much less adopt a moral stance with respect to it, is absurd and sad. Crowe is a terrorist; his films defecate in the eyes and ears of thinking people everywhere. Straub and Huillet merely preserve what little beauty and intellectual rigor is left in a world crushed beneath American hegemony.

Also, you can fit SICILIA! inside ELIZABETHTOWN one and a half times over and still have room left for "Freebird."

While it may not be anti-American to oppose imperialism, it may be at least a little irresponsible to endorse terrorism! And equating terrorism with dissent is tacky and unhelpful.

And the Venice Film Festival is an 'American' film festival? I understand Crowe's reasoning [and opinion] especially in light of 9/11. I'd probably not be comfortable with Straub - Huillet's assertions at a dinner party in the United States. But doesn't Venice - as a world festival - have the clout, intelligence and openmindedness to embrace a third [or fourth] point of view? That is, not an American viewpoint nor a terrorist one - but one that is shared by a large segment of the world's population? It need not be an 'us vs them' scenario.

"In lieu of their attendance, Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet sent the actors of their new film, Quei loro incontri (Those Encounters of Theirs), along with three messages."

How funny would it be if this was a case of "telephone" where you give an actor a line, then they misinterpret it, or maybe out right lie, or lose it in translation?

"Terrorist" the label, is quickly losing its power as a word. How dare Artists weaken that word!

In the spirit of Matt's comment, I'm more interested in understanding the messages Straub sent to Venice than in defending them. And, especially given how little I know, unfortunately, of Pavese and Fortini, I'm not going to presume I'll get even close to a complete understanding, either. But: a few thoughts.

First, the matter of context. Bear with a moment, because I'm reminded of another uproar over another set of comments made by another artist. A few days, not even a full week after 9/11, Karlheinz Stockhausen suggested (in a rather convoluted and easily misinterpreted way, which you'll see if you look at the original transcript of the press conference) that the attack on the World Trade Center was a work of art. Granted, it was an evil one (he would have attributed it to a character he's concentrated on over many years, Lucifer), but the mere mention of the attack and art in the same breath set off a wildfire of condemnation, resulting in the cancellation of a concert in Hamburg and, eventually, an apology from Stockhausen even though he maintained that he'd been misquoted.

Just the other day, I posted this. I found it fascinating that a Canadian, David Cronenberg, could suggest that one of the most American of artists "would have thought the attacks an obvious thing to do" and that Warhol's work "was a bizarre prophecy. He was very prophetic and accurate in his understanding of America, of commercialism, of capitalism, of its flaws and strengths." And Cronenberg's suggestion was published in a widely read paper and, five years after 9/11, no one blinks. A note on the side: I happen to agree with Cronenberg and can even imagine that, had he lived, Warhol would be giving the TV that blank stare of his as the networks replayed the attacks over and over and murmuring, "It's so beautiful." Not that that would be his only assessment, but I can't help but think that that would be at least among his initial thoughts. But that's neither here nor there.

I bring all this up because what's interesting to me in Tag Gallagher's report on this "furor" is the collision of contexts: Crowe's vs Straub's. Crowe's is extraordinarily narrow. He seems to have been stung by two zingers, "terrorist" and "American imperialist capitalism," and objects to their appearing "on the eve of the anniversary of 9/11" as if 9/11 were the only context left to us as of five years ago.

For all these five years, I have remained stunned by how quickly an all-pervasive, highly intense and potentially very constructive global conversation was just dropped on September 11, 2001. From, at the latest, Seattle in 1999 right on up through the summer of 2001, the so-called "anti-globalization" protests were rocking cities around the world and evolving into a dynamic movement with a far better name, global justice. How quickly we forget how effective that movement was turning out to be. Meeting in Florence to discuss the future direction of their "Third Way," Clinton, Blair and then-German chancellor Schroeder, along with other heads of governments, openly recognized and, in some cases, even welcomed the challenges that movement was posing.

We forget that these issues, top of agenda the world over, were so prevalent that reaction on some movement organizers' mailing lists to the attacks of 9/11 was a serious and sincere worry that extremist elements within the movement were responsible - a thought that occurred before any suspicion was raised that the global conversation had just been hijacked, that someone, at the time seemingly out of nowhere, had just changed the subject (and of course, the Bush administration is all too happy to keep us all focused on this new topic at hand).

Though I'm sure the context in which Straub is thinking expands far beyond those years as well, he has not forgotten that conversation. Globalization - which other filmmakers are addressing as well; Jia Zhangke springs to mind - is of course interpreted by many, and not just those on the European left (I can think of several comments made by that relatively conservative Social Democrat, Gerhard Schroeder), as a particularly potent strain of Americanization. There is something quaint, almost old-fashioned but at the same time, something resonant about Straub's use of the word "imperialistic"; but have we forgotten the title of Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri's 2000/2001 bestseller? Empire.

About "terrorist," a thought has occurred to me, and I've since dismissed it, but oddly enough, it may be worth mentioning anyway. You could paraphrase (and oversimplify) Straub's statement: I don't want to come to any event where I'll be treated like a terrorist, and in fact, as you search my bags at the entrance on the suspicion that I might be one, let me take control of the dialogue and claim that identity before you slap it on me. Sort of along the lines of, "You can't fire me, I quit!"

I'm sure Straub is thinking in much broader and historically deeper terms, but I bring it up because he has reminded me that the greatest dangers that can be posed to any democracy are coming to pass: Power, in the form of government, multinational corporations, intelligence agencies and so on, is solidifying into a front against us - the fragmented and dispersed multitudes, you might say (Hardt/Negri again). As for what to do about that, personally, I resist the call for more terror. We were on the right track in 1999-2001 and we do not have to stay derailed.

While I have not seen the film, I did get the very personal press release from Straub and Huillet, so personal in fact it was not one of those glossy brochures that normally pass for press info but actually a hand-written and then photocopied (!) message, with a later statement typed on a typewriter added on the last page. It is clear from their message that they want to be considered for their work as a whole and find the aspect of going through the motions of an elitist film gathering rather terrible (I must say that the whole 8-person jury thing has always seemed rather arbitrary to me too). The process of getting into the screening rooms in Venice has been very difficult since last year, on par, if not more complicated, than getting onto an airplane these days but with the added problem for us journalists that to do you work you need to move about between screening rooms, which means you probably get your bag, your personal belongings and your person checked between 5-10 times a day. It does indeed feel at times as if they are expecting people that have been accredited by the festival (i.e. by them!) to blow up the Palazzo del cinema.

While I love a bit of Sex Pistols-styled, look-at-me!, sorta-political statement-making almost as much as I love to hyphenate, a filmmaker referring to himself as a "terrorist" is either a victim of wishful thinking, egocentricity or complete ignorance.
It reminds me of the scene in 'House of Sand and Fog' where Ben Kingsley's character, the Prussian Colonel who has had to flee to America in order to save the livesof his family, sits in the waiting room of a well-meaning, liberal, San Francisco attorney. He looks up at a large poster on the attorney's wall using the word "revolution" to describe something as simple and everyday as recycling or riding bicycles (I forget exactly what it says, but you get the idea). He barely moves, but a slight change in his brow tells the viewer that America's priveleged misunderstanding of the word's true power is insulting and nearly incomprehensible to someone who has actually experienced an honest-to-Webster's revolution.
While I don't believe Straub meant anything by his comments other than a bit of self-promotion and the inspiration of the sort of self-congratulatory, we're-in-on-it-too applause that rock bands receive when they shout out a city's name, such grand, pompous pronouncements fall a bit short when looked at under the light of anything other than a spotlight or flashbulb.
That said, Cameron Crowe is a bit too old to be so damned emo, and I'm looking forward very much to seeing this film!

Poor Prussian Colonels!
You must know Straub's films and history very well and intend to disrespect him harshly to make the mistake of calling Kingsley's character Prussian, when he's supposed to be Iranian(Persian)in that film, and give the character sympathy either way. This sympathy is a savage slur towards Straub who was born and raised in Metz and has made a film dedicated to the slain Communards of Paris. Your sympathy for a (albiet fictional and mistakenly identified) Prussian Colonel means you must have sympathy for the barbaric wars that strengthened capitalism against peasants and workers, shattered the lives of people in Alsace-Lorraine, in Metz, where Straub grew up forbidden to speak French in public, and where the scars of the slaughter of the Paris Commune still can be felt in many circles. These things couldn't have happened without those poor Prussian colonels. But Kingsley is doing a minstrel of an Iranian, a former Colonel in service of the Shah. The Shah, a murderer and torturer completely in service of Western imperialistic interests. It was the Shah's bodygaurds in 1967 who, with West German police, fatally shot one student and beat many others who were protesting alongside Iranian exiles against the Shah. This event rippled all the way to the revolutionary events of 1968. And it was a formative event for the RED ARMY FACTION, formed later. Straub dedicated his film MOSES UND ARON to Holger Meins who died on hunger strike in prison as a suspected RED ARMY FACTION member. People don't always just say things!

While it's true that I know little to nothing (okay, nothing) about Iranian politics, and stupidly typed in "Prussian" instead of "Persian", I must say that I intended no racial slur against Straub. I've only seen two of his works, but enjoyed them IMMENSELY. My apologies to those unintentionally offended.