A Look at Propaganda in Film

Background

After its invention at the end of the nineteenth century, cinema swept through Europe as the fastest-growing art form. Millions globally visited the new picture-theatres on a weekly basis, meaning that the new technology was ripe to convey some kind of message to a huge audience. It was during the First World War that movies were first seriously mauled as a means of mass agitation. The British Government actually made time to pursue this ideal as a policy. Twisted caricatures of the enemy leered down upon audiences in every country, as the benefits and importance of their just-war were extolled ad nauseum. After this, the cinema was a common bastion for manipulation in the golden age, from the fascist Goebbels to the suspected fascist Disney. But how much has this phenomenon transformed? Is cinematic propaganda unrecognisable from one decade to the next, or are the same tactics still callously heaped onto every new generation of unsuspecting cinephiles?

Soviet Union

Dictatorships have, predictably, proven to be keen proponents of such propaganda. The first top dystopia was the U.S.S.R. From its inception in 1922, the Soviet Union revelled in the opportunities that cinema presented for mass control, the government overseeing national production in order to instil good communist values. The products are used to this day as examples of both innovative technique and blatant propaganda. Sergei Eisenstein, Dziga Vertov and Vsevolod Pudovkin pioneered the genre of social-realism and the use of editing and cutting for dramatic effect. Films like Battleship Potemkin, October and Strike manipulated the viewers with montage to convey stirring political messages within entertaining narratives. The Bolsheviks, in typical cutting-edge revolutionary style, pilfered film-makers and forced them to tour the country in ‘film trains’, stopping every so often to show the grateful peasants visions of socialist utopia and also to steal their wheat. In the 1930s a few more masterpieces were produced under the looming threat of Nazi invasion. Alexander Nevsky and Ivan the Terrible were historical epics on an unprecedented scale.

An Example of the Soviets' Characteristic Outlook of Cheery Optimism

Nazi Germany 

The political administration perhaps most synonymous with propaganda was the Nazis. The propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels adored films, even having a meeting with the Jewish director Fritz Lang to persuade him to stay. Thus Germanic film was promoted as a viable, Aryan alternative to what those degenerate Yanks could come up with. Many Nazi-era flicks remain almost as cinematically respected as morally reprehensible, like Russell Crowe. A fascist Russell Crowe. Which is probably just Mel Gibson. The most influential filmmaker was Leni Riefenstahl. She produced the infamous Triumph of the Will, a documentary about the 1934 Nazi Party Congress in Nuremburg, and Olympia, another documentary about the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Both were shot with the most advanced techniques, the breath-taking spectacle inherent in Nazi ceremony serving to produce a truly awe-inspiring watch. Goebbels himself had lines that he had written included in films. He didn’t star in any though- perhaps his massive mushroom head didn’t translate into conventional on-screen beauty. Well it’s not like he was part of some master race or anything.

Now that's Fascism

Other dictatorships have similarly curbed artistic freedom. North Korea, for example, severely restricts what its citizens can see. 

Dictator Kim Jong Il was a noted film fan. I wonder if he ever saw his portrayal in Team America.

Hollywood 

Of course, Hollywood is itself almost as guilty as the cinema-meddling despots above. The Production Code (also called 'Hays Code') came into existence shortly after the talkies did. It was a system of censorship which decided what was not suitable to appear in films, lest the audiences go psychotic and treasonous. This amounted to a gross curb on artistic freedom. In the 1920s and 1930s, isolationism and anti-communist disgust kept direct opposition to Fascism largely out of film. Some foreign-born filmmakers did fly in the face of convention, sticking two film fingers up at those straight-legged fanatics in Europe. Charlie Chaplin mocked Der Führer (and Il Duce) in The Great Dictator, delivering a five-minute anti-intolerance (tolerance) monologue straight to the audience. Alfred Hitchcock also had a crack with Foreign Correspondent. Then the attack on Pearl Harbour happened and a fit of consciousness delivered an avalanche of pro-war films (Franz Capra’s Why We Fight series being perhaps the most famous). Even Donald Duck got involved, the hapless poultry character caught in a far-right dystopian dream sequence. During the Cold War, the politics shifted back. Hollywood was ravaged by paranoid witch-hunters in the shape of semi-demented Senator McCarthy's House Committee on Un-American Affairs. HUAC gave itself the task of weeding out and blacklisting communists, liberals and other lefty do-gooders. Even the Americans’ spiritual king Humphrey Bogart was bullied by McCarthy’s little bunch. Suddenly, the studios were well keen to release virulently anti-Red pictures, like I Married a Communist and Pickup on South Street. Villains were constantly modified to fit U.S. perceptions of ‘the enemy’: nasty Nazis, grubby Communists, greasy Mexicans, self-respecting Natives. Essentially, a powerful few were allowed to imprint their perception of Americanism on United States film industry and thus the country's citizenry.

The Fascist logo in The Great Dictator bears a startlingly close resemblance to the logo of the band 'The XX'. Conspiracy?

Postwar Subtlety

After the demise of the Hays Code in the late ‘60s, and what with everyone being all liberal and listening to Sergeant Pepper, Hollywood ceased to dictate what its audiences should be thinking. Western Europe had also been freed from the restriction of the fascists. All manner of dreadful immorality began to appear in a diverse set of genres, suggesting that propaganda had ceased to exist seriously. But perhaps cinema has softened into a subtler propaganda tool. Socio-political commentary, fears and aspirations are all reflected on-screen, spilling messages to the audience concerning issues which affect them. For example, Italian Neo-Realism opposed fascism by showing the awful truths of its aftermath, as in Bicycle Thieves or Rome, Open City. Film Noir showcased many U.S. citizens’ embittered feelings about the terrors of the contemporary world, like Double Indemnity, Touch of Evil or The Third Man. Even ‘80s slasher films are sometimes claimed to be a metaphor for teenage world angst. Suddenly Halloween III seems a more worthwhile venture. Movies, more often than not, are aligned with existing cultural discourses, reinforcing social prejudices and values.

If Chaplin was obvious in his scorn for Hitler, this still from Rome, Open City shows how films could use (slightly) subtler methods. Anti-fascist opinion is reinforced by the image of the rebellious priest being executed by right-wing Italian soldiers. Those reckless clergymen- live fast, die young.

Conclusion

In 2013, the political influence of cinema is challenged by other mediums, notably television and the internet. The motion picture has been reduced from an art form which bore overwhelming political power. Overt censorship and didactic preaching are considered undesirable qualities. The subtler methods of satire and mockery, often in a harmless and slapstick fashion, are more commonplace. But who knows exactly what delicate effects films have, what undetectable political messages we are being fed. Maybe political propaganda has reached imperceptible levels, and is thriving more powerfully than ever.