Hey everyone -- it's not really appropriate to defend myself against readers who think I'm doing Karl Rove and Bill O'Reilly's bidding with this piece. I'll say briefly that if you knew what my politics actually were, you might be surprised. But that's not really relevant: This article isn't about liberalism or leftism or racism or any other -ism; it's a rather gentle (in my view) attempt to poke fun at Hollywood's cyclical tendency to take itself seriously, or, to put it another way, to direct its inspirational fables at issues in the so-called real world.

Am I a bit cynical about that? You bet. Partly that's because I see this as little more than the filmmaking establishment's kneejerk response to the social currents it perceives around it. When Bush was riding high and we were all supposedly bullish on America, Hollywood producers churned out fables about the Greatness of our Great Nation in response to what was seen as a rising tide of conservatism and patriotism. Even the first "Lord of the Rings" film was widely, and tiresomely, written about as a post-9/11 allegory. (First words of dialogue: "The world has changed.") I don't think there was much substance to that so-called trend, and I feel the same way now.

Furthermore, I'm skeptical about the argument that politically-motivated works of art do much more in political terms than congratulate those who watch them for their enlightened views of whatever the issue is. I think this is especially true in the case of a message movie like "Crash," which seems crudely structured around obvious, artificial sets of collisions and contradictions, but true more generally as well. Some readers seem to be endorsing the implicit suggestion that "Crash" might actually lead to social change -- might make people challenge their closely held racist beliefs, for example. Who knows, maybe that's possible, but I think such a reaction is only likely among viewers who already share the values expressed in the film. As some postings here suggest, to right-wingers "Crash" looks and feels like painfully obvious, even hilarious propaganda.

I don't think anybody could say that about "GN&GL," or "Munich," or "Brokeback Mountain." They're not likely to change political opinions either -- all have been attacked, I'm pretty sure, from both right and left perspectives. But they all work on various levels and more or less succeed on aesthetic grounds, which is to say the terrain of ambiguity, uncertainty and emotion. Presumably a homophobic fundamentalist might understand the scene in "Brokeback" when Michelle Williams suddenly learns the truth about her husband quite differently from the way a liberal, gay-friendly viewer might -- but both people could nonetheless be deeply moved by her bafflement and distress.

I'm not suggesting that culture plays no role in shaping political opinions; the equation is nowhere near that clear. But it's also too simple to suggest that liberal message-movies will help produce a longed-for electoral shift, or will wake the public up to the dangers of racism and impending fascism (etc.). That's just as dopey as blaming video games for teen violence.

As several responders have noticed, many people are clearly objecting to the concept and packaging of this article, rather than anything it actually says. And I'm grateful to those who have pointed out that I said (relatively) nice things about four of this year's five nominees.

Now back to my normal beat, where the inspirational messages are delivered via shaky-cam documentaries or in foreign languages. And, oh yeah, those Lindsay Lohan movies I love so much.

just a tiny note from a Salon staffer (and old alt-weekly colleague of Jack Boulware, author of this piece). I can't testify as to whether the Sex Pistols crashed at the A-Hole or not -- Jack never says they played there -- because I was a suburban teenager who did not frequent such places. But they spent about a week in SF in January 1978, playing their last-ever official show at the since-demolished Winterland auditorium. (I was there.) So it's totally plausible.

And while I never knew Laura Albert in her various incarnations, boy does Jack's piece capture the San Francisco of a certain era, now, for better or worse, pretty much gone.

And the answer is pretty simple: While they might indeed sell some DVDs, they'd destroy any chance of getting theatrical distribution. Even if the odds are long, every director & producer with a film in Tribeca (or any other festival) is looking to make that connection. There were swarms of acquisition execs in the audience for "Walker Payne," a movie that probably will get picked up. Even though the distribution model for smaller films is shifting in uncertain ways right now, no major distributor is going to buy a film that's already being sold to the public on DVD. That filmmaker has essentially decided to self-distribute. If they can actually build a hit that way (e.g., that idiotic "What the Bleep" movie), Hollywood will come calling with a big check. But not until then.

Addled by the sun, not to mention the free booze, I got my proto-punk history mixed up. Thanks for catching. The story has been corrected.