Get Me Roger Stone

As expected, Donald Trump has just commuted the sentence of Roger Stone, his longtime friend and political advisor. Apparently, according to the White House, children and teachers can risk their lives going to school during a pandemic, but prison is too medically risky for Mr. Stone, who was convicted on seven counts this year, including witness tampering and lying to investigators. He was sentenced this February to over three years in prison. This episode was yet another reminder of a seriously flawed justice system, one in which Trump seeks to throw those toppling statues of slavers in jail for ten years but will bail out his buddies. Stone certainly has company. He is one of seven Trump associates who have been found guilty of criminal acts since 2016; the others include Trump's former lawyer (Michael Cohen), former campaign advisor (George Papadopoulos), and Paul Manafort, his former campaign chairman. Manafort is a longtime partner and friend of Stone's and is interviewed in the Netflix documentary Get Me Roger Stone about this infamous politico.

Written and directed by Dylan Bank, Daniel DiMauro, and Morgan Pehme, Get Me Roger Stone does not offer an attempt at repackaging and redeeming a rightwing figure like another Netflix documentary called Mitt did only a few years before it. If you hate Roger Stone, your hatred of him will only be fanned. If you don't like the guy but find yourself frequently defending him to your progressive friends, seeing a documentary like this might only make you more uncomfortable. Nobody likes Roger Stone, so I don't need to go any further with a third category.

In the documentary, Stone describes himself as an "agent provocateur". Trump describes him as a "dirty trickster". Stone happily wears that badge, as he frequently does the Nixon pose, embracing this image of a counterpuncher who doesn't always follow the rules with tremendous glee. He dresses the part as well. Everyone has seen pictures of him in those ridiculous suits and a bowler hat and glasses that make him seem as if he's begging to be punched. The schmuck even drinks a martini while being interviewed here. All rightwing provocateurs like to think of themselves as Bond villains, but Stone doesn't make the grade. He's not a Bond villain, but more like a 1960s Batman villain, an agent of chaos more in the mold of Caesar Romero than Heath Ledger.

Two years ago, Trump went to Twitter to hilariously cry that because he "won" on his first try (what adult talks like that?), he was not just smart, but a genius. But that's not true. I mean, obviously he's neither smart nor a genius. But aside from the fact that he lost the election by nearly three million votes, his first political adventure was in 2000, during Trump's efforts to be the nominee for President of the United States of the Reform Party (which surprisingly still exists). Trump sought the Reform nomination, and ironically argued the nominee shouldn't be Pat Buchanan because Buchanan was too racist. Who served as one of Trump's advisors? Roger F-ing Stone. Trump lost the race for the nomination, which Buchanan won. Stone then returned to Trump's inner political circle in the early days of his next campaign before he was fired (or before he quit, as he says). Stone is assumed to have recommended Manafort to be Trump's campaign advisor before he, too, quit (and now sits in prison, unable to get Trump's sympathy in a way Stone has).

Get Me Roger Stone progresses in a similar way to the renowned 2003 documentary The Fog of War, directed by Errol Morris. Like Morris, Bank, DiMauro, and Pehme get Stone to discuss his "rules" or lessons. There are so many rules he likes to dish out, but the only one you really need to understand is the first one he tells us: It is better to be infamous than not famous at all. He has an almost humorous way of finding himself in every sort of major U.S. political event, including both stolen elections of 2000 and 2016. He was a Nixon aid and was even discussed during the Watergate hearings. Regarding his Nixon fetish, he's a contrarian to be sure; no one likes Nixon, and nobody talks about him in positive ways. But Stone does, and the affection seems genuine. Stone has a tattoo on his back of Nixon's face, and his mother, according to the documentary, once told him that his religion is politics and his god is Richard Nixon. After Watergate, he became close with McCarthy's guy Roy Cohn (that Roy Cohn), who likely also served as a mentor to Stone in the dark arts of political fighting. (It was Cohn who introduced Stone to Donald Trump.) Along with Manafort, their partner Charlie Black, Lee Atwater, and later Trump, Stone championed the fight-dirty-but-win attitudes the Baby Boomer New Right has cursed us with.

Despite how rat-like he is, Stone comes across sometimes in a remarkably charming (yet insufferable) way. Among others interviewed in Get Me Roger Stone are Jeffrey Toobin, Tucker Carlson, and of course, Donald Trump. But they're all boring to listen to compared to Stone. He also makes surprisingly compelling arguments. "Hate," he tells the interviewer, "is a stronger motivation than love." Democrats learned that the hard way after their silliness about "when they go low, we go high" got them nowhere. Charismatic and knowledgable were not two adjectives I associated Roger Stone with before watching Get Me Roger Stone.

However, since the documentary was released, Stone has been different. The man is certainly not well. In his disposition from earlier this year, he sat like a rabid dog, aching to bite his peculiar teeth into the flesh of an opponent. By that I mean he literally chomped his teeth, as if they had a mind of their own and were willing to screw up his life even more than he already had. Any normal person who has had to witness an unhinged rightwing uncle ruin everyone's Thanksgiving with a rant about the so-called Deep State will surely recognize this when watching the clip. For a man who seems to revel in making everyone else angry, it is utter bliss to watch him so easily lose his shit.

The one small sliver of solace one can find in the saga of Roger Stone is a simple fact: By now, other than fringe alt-right figures who pose an undeniable threat to the United States and to civilization, no one likes or admires a person like Roger Stone, and surely no one will mourn when he finally leaves us. Even most of the people interviewed in the documentary don't heap praise on him. His daughter admits he's a trickster, and his wife tells us that when she met him, she thought he looked like a member of the Hitler Youth.

All of this nonsense has been normalized these past few years. "Now the children's table is the adult table," someone says in the documentary. How true that is. In 2015, at the first GOP debate, Trump was asked about all the money he had given to politicians before he himself became one. (Trump's money giving is addressed in Get Me Roger Stone, as well.) "When they call, I give," he said. "And you know what? When I need something from them, two years later, three years later, I call them. They are there for me." For a man who is a serial liar, that is a profoundly honest and accurate statement, one that would have likely cost him a generation or even a decade or two before. But these are different times, partly because of guys like Roger Stone. The documentary is successful at drawing lines between Nixon to Stone to Trump. Stone complains in the documentary about it all being "a swamp", the term Trump often uses to shift blame for not solving problems. It may be a swamp, but it's a swamp that celebrates Roger Stone as a founding member.

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Hamilton

2020 has not been the kindest year to the United States of America. As everyone knows, the country leads in COVID-19 cases and deaths, which as of this writing are at 2.8 million and 132,000, respectively. The ensuing recession has been like none before it, with unemployment reaching at least fifteen percent and then eleven percent, where it currently is. Fierce outrage over the murders of George Floyd, Aumaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and others have led to massive protests in all fifty states. These protests and conversations have also resulted in the removal (sometimes by force) of statues and paintings glorifying slavers, racists, and traitors from previous centuries.

During this pandemic, and one that takes place as the country's citizens grapple with its past, normal acts of patriotism and celebration during this holiday are misguided, at best. Perhaps Disney+, of all things, offers a slightly less problematic way of learning about U.S. history in the form of the most famous musical in recent times. Hamilton, the enormously successful musical about Founding Father Alexander Hamilton, written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, has made its way to the screen earlier than planned due to the pandemic. And instead of a new adaptation, which would have been the more predictable route, this is simply a filmed version of the Broadway production. 

Filmed in June of 2016 (which, in retrospect, was such an innocent time), Miranda's musical famously casts a diverse group of actors to tell a story of famous white men. It was inevitable that some form of the original cast's production would hit the screens, as the actors have since become quite busy. Some examples: Miranda has worked with Disney several times, writing Oscar-nominated music for Moana in 2016 and co-starring in Mary Poppins Returns in 2018. Leslie Odom, Jr. (who plays Aaron Burr, one of Hamilton's arch rivals) was in Harriet last year; Daveed Diggs (Thomas Jefferson and Marquis de Lafayette) wrote, directed, and starred in the 2018 film Blindspotting. Jonathan Groff (King George III) has appeared in the Frozen movies and as the lead in the Netflix crime series Mindhunter. If an adaptation was to be made, it would be tricky getting the band back together. So perhaps it's for the best that the stage show is now streaming on Disney+, as (like Fiddler on the Roof decades before it), the music is starting to get a little overplayed and the cast has moved on.

Hamilton is a long show, but it moves quickly. (Apparently, it would last four to six hours if it went at the pace of most other Broadway shows.) So quickly, that when it finally takes a moment to slow down, it becomes a bore. The show starts with the amazing number "Alexander Hamilton", followed by "Aaron Burr, Sir" and then "My Shot", so within just a few moments we've been rapidly given much of his story. I don't blame Miranda for trying to cover so much ground in such little time; it takes biographer Ron Chernow, whose 2004 biography served as the inspiration for this musical, about a hundred pages to finally make his book at least somewhat interesting.

During the war, Hamilton (played by Miranda) becomes an assistant to George Washington (Christopher Jackson), despite a rocky relationship between the two due mainly to the fact that Washington won't (at first) allow Hamilton to command during battle. After the war, once Washington becomes the first President of the United States, Hamilton becomes the first Secretary of the Treasury. Cabinet battles between Secretary of the Treasury Hamilton and Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson over topics regarding the power of government and whether or not to aid France are depicted in rap battles. He also marries a woman named Eliza (Philippa Soo), but also gets himself involved in the country's first sex scandal, all while accumulating quite a few enemies, namely Aaron Burr (Odom, Jr.), who is engaged in increasing competition and rivalry with Hamilton.

I first saw the musical in London two years ago (though I probably wouldn't have if I had known it would be available on streaming at a much more affordable price a year and a half later), and I remember my stomach slightly clenching as King George III slowing walked onto stage wearing mockingly ostentatious attire, thinking to myself that there would be copious amounts of palpable tension and awkward silence from the crowd. This wasn't the case, fortunately. George III is played by Jonathan Groff, and it's his scenes that I like the best. He opens the show as the announcer asking attendees to turn off their phones. "Enjoy my show," he tells the audience. It doesn't matter if it makes sense or not for him to be there. Hamilton never met George III. In the musical, he doesn't serve much of a purpose. But his three numbers, all following the same tune (that of a '60s Britbop, as the New York Times called it), are wonderful comic relief. King George is written and played kind of as a sophomoric and manipulative ex-boyfriend, warning the Americans that they'll soon come crawling back to him once they see how difficult it is on their own. Groff relishes every syllable as he sings "'Cause when push comes to shove, I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love" as he immediately shifts to a long da-da-da-da-da segment that brings the number to a close. There's a few chuckles throughout the rest of the musical, but nothing as funny as these scenes.

The Brits may have been okay with how one of their former leaders was depicted and lampooned, but I was surprised that a show described as "revolutionary" by the Wall Street Journal would treat Thomas Jefferson and George Washington with such kid gloves. They may have been Founders, but more importantly they were slavers, and it's odd to watch such generous treatment towards these figures in a time when the nation is grappling with how much praise (if any) should be given to them. This isn't a new thing; it would have been just as necessary five years ago to be critical towards these two.

Much of this show is about not simply one man but of the complicated and painful history regarding race in this land. So it is frustrating that since it became famous, Hamilton has sort of served as a litmus test for white liberals who want to prove how woke they aware. But there is an uncomfortable dichotomy that white liberals would rather not talk about: this is a brown show that plays for white audiences. Like, all white. (Apparently, Art Garfunkel was one of the rather disruptive ones.) Rian Johnson even poked fun at this last year when a white character in his comedy Knives Out quotes the musical and says, "Immigrants, we get the job done," before informing the other person (who has no idea what he's talking about) that he saw Hamilton on stage. Additionally, as many have pointed out, one of its numerous criticisms is the fact that gender parity is low here. There are only three female characters who have speaking lines, and all of them only exist in the narrative because they revolve around Hamilton, the great man of this show. There is only one scene in which the three have a conversation with each other about something other than Hamilton. If Miranda and his team were bold enough to cast people of color as the the founders of the U.S., why then couldn't they have cast women in these roles, as well? Miranda has since said he is okay with the idea, but it's perplexing that he didn't think of it then.

Of his music, though, there is nothing quite like it. Miranda has been deservingly showered with a variety of awards for Hamilton: the show won eight Drama Desk Awards, eleven Tony Awards, and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Hell, he even rescued Alexander Hamilton from historical non-relevance, as Hamilton was saved from being removed from the $10 bill after the popularity of this musical became apparent. His singing may be a bit noticeably nasally, his storytelling might have an issue or two (if you require an engaging plot and character development, this musical might not be for you), and the story and how we view it, as Siddhant Adlakha has brilliantly described, has changed so much since 2016. As Adlakha put it, "It was made for a different America." But Miranda's music will live forever. Hamilton has changed how we think of musicals for the better, and if you can tolerate the problems with the show, it will be an enjoyable, less problematic, and safer way to enjoy the Fourth of July.

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Da 5 Bloods

Five years ago, the New York Times reported on how reconciliation might truly be taking place in Vietnam, as Vietnamese veterans of the "American War" sat and joined their former enemies (U.S. veterans) while eating chili and chicken wings to celebrate the Fourth of July. Almost 90 percent of young Vietnamese (at least as of 2015) have a favorable opinion of the United States, with many studying in the U.S., while many U.S. veterans have moved back to the country they once fought, often trying to help with charitable causes, like to help the victims of Agent Orange effects. "We have closed the door on the past," one of the Vietnamese veterans says.

Da 5 Bloods, the newest film directed by Spike Lee, focuses on four U.S. veterans of the Vietnam War; for them, the door to the past is not yet closed. They, too, find themselves back in Vietnam, now cosmopolitan and entirely different than when they left. Two former Vietcong members buy them some drinks. The four strut across the dance floor (all pretty well) and argue about Trump. (Paul, the veteran played by Delro Lindo, wears a MAGA throughout the film.) They raise their glasses in a toast with the former VC. "The American War is over," they declare. All four are together, and they will soon be joined by a fifth. "Amen," they say as they cheer.

So why are they back in Vietnam? The veterans–Paul (Lindo), Otis (Clarke Peters), Eddie (Norm Lewis), and Melvin (Isiah Whitlock, Jr.)—fought together in the war under their squad leader, "Stormin' Norman" (played in flashback scenes by Chadwick Boseman). Norman was their Malcolm and their Martin, we are told. With Norman, they learned a lot about politics and history, like how Crispus Attucks was the first American to die in the Revolutionary War. Without Norman, though, they are cast adrift in modern Vietnam. Despite a happy initial reunion, they head back into the jungle and things start to go awry. The impetus for going back to the battle scenes is to retrieve literal treasure they buried there during the war. The five were under instructions to provide gold to the Lahu people on behalf of the U.S. government as payment for helping them fight the Vietcong, but they decided to bury it and retrieve it years later to help their community.

The flashback scenes don't serve the film well, mostly due to that this is Lee's first war film. Also at fault is the composer, Terence Blanchard, whose music is mostly fine throughout the rest of Da 5 Bloods, yet odd and distracting in these battle scenes. So, too, is the fact that Lee keeps Lindo, Peters, Lewis, and Whitlock as they are with minimal makeup effects. There are no Irishman-esque de-aging effects in this Netflix film. It's neat at first, but it becomes a distraction. But fundamentally, the problem is that directing war scenes is not Lee's strength. None of these flashback scenes are interesting. He pays his respects to Apocalypse Now and Platoon, but doesn't seem to have learned anything from them.  

Just when you think Da 5 Bloods is veering into the realm of being too predictable, there are numerous surprises thrown your way. Some may cause you to roll your eyes and say, "Oh, come on." Indeed, the kind of film it ends up becoming is wildly different than the kind of film it started in the beginning, with the final product feeling like a hybrid of Richard Linklater and Quentin Tarantino. This may or may not contribute to the overall clunkiness of the film's pace. The ungainly tempo continues into the epilogue of the film, which is often the most memorable moments of the films Lee directs, like Malcolm X and BlackKklansman. At first it seems that will be the case with Da 5 Bloods, but then it kind of shifts around a bit and it draws some conclusions that seem misplaced.

The film itself doesn't retain its initial excitement. It's a worthwhile ride, with other noteworthy performances by a diverse cast that includes Jonathan Majors, Johnny Trí Nguyen, Mélanie Thierry, Jasper Pääkkönen, Paul Walter Hauser, Veronica Ngo, and Jean Reno. But you definitely owe it to yourself to watch it to witness the acting of Delroy Lindo. Lindo goes all in for his portrayal of this Trump-supporting veteran who sees ghosts and struggles through PTSD that was never treated. It is his reaction to these situations and his inability to heal deep personal wounds that really start to complicate the group's efforts to be successful. Despite what they tell themselves in the beginning, the war is in fact not yet over, at least for Paul, and Lindo makes all the right moves to demonstrate it. The other characters are given arches, but none of them are as intriguing as Paul's. If the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences didn't hate Black artists so much, he would be considered the frontrunner for Best Actor at this point. Let's all hope he bucks history and gets it.

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