These Three United States

Millions of people, from the Kreuz-Kino in Vienna to the Nya Bio in Reykjavik, know the U.S. only as it is reflected in U.S. movies. Last week, two articulate moviegoers reported how that reflection looked to them.

Enter Something Wilson. In the New York Times Magazine, British Journalist C. (for Carolyn) A. Lejeune brilliantly caricatured Hollywood's version of the Great Dreamland:

"The United States of America is a cozy little country consisting of three small states, California, Kentucky and Texas. . . . There used to be another state called Georgia, but that was away back in history days. . . . The history of America is short and easy to remember. There have been two internal wars: a dull skirmish with the English about tea, which was all right once they got rid of Benedict Arnold, and a really dressy struggle between the North and the South. The North won, and were right, but the South, who lost, were nicer. After that, nothing happened until . . . some people called doughboys went to Europe and won a war. On Dec. 7, 1941, the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor, and some people called G.I.s had to go out to the Pacific and lick the pants off them. . . .

"There have been three Presidents of the United States: George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt. Pardon me, I am wrong; it has lately transpired there was another President called Something Wilson, who was devoted to his family, and liked to stand by the piano, listening to old songs. He was shockingly misunderstood. . . ."

Rose Without Thorns. "The average family consists of Pop and Mom, Grandma, son and daughter of college age, and Junior, who looks best asleep. Junior is a great one for saying his prayers. He also says Go jump in a pond; G'wan, kiss the guy; Mom, why doesn't Pop come home to us anymore? . . .

"The main articles of furniture are the icebox and the telephone. . . . The main meal is held in the middle of the night in the kitchen, and consists of a glass of milk and cold chicken from the icebox. . . . The fauna of America consists mainly of the horse and the cairn terrier; now and then the discerning eye may detect, in the distance, a stampede of cows. The flora is largely confined to the orchid and the long-stemmed rose. The rose is a peculiarly interesting variety, having extraordinary lasting qualities and no thorns." . . .

Love Thy Boss. From Moscow came a different kind of critique. In the Soviet magazine Culture & Life, Pravda Correspondent Yuri Zhukov tore into Hollywood with a party-line vengeance. The U.S. movie monopolies, declared the article indignantly, had actually abandoned the profit motive in order to reel off anti-Communist propaganda. Wrote Zhukov: "Hollywood films advertise American capitalists as noble, wealthy persons who should be imitated and obeyed. . . . They propagate patience and obedience on the part of submissive girl workers, showing finally how they win the love of their bosses or his son. . . . Crimes are incited by 'dangerous Reds.' . . . At the same time, these films show trade unions and other progressive associations as dangerous and harmful."

This was a bizarrely distorted montage of the facts. Hollywood handles trade unions with kid gloves, if at all, has scarcely mentioned Communism since the screamingly pro-Russian Mission to Moscow. Even more obviously false was Zhukov's statement that "the stink of race prejudice is smelled miles away. . . . While 100% Americans are always brave and noble heroes, Negroes are either imbeciles . . . or wild beasts inspiring the hatred of the audience. . . ." Actually, Hollywood (though it is inclined to show Negroes as rather simple) has not presented a violently villainous Negro since The Birth of a Nation.

Two pictures of which Zhukov approves: The Best Years of Our Lives and Tobacco Road ("a progressive film about the plight of the American farmer").

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