Standing with my arms folded at last Friday's Dave Matthew's Band concert, my stomach began to churn and my mind to turn.
The opening act, Ugly Americans, sung such eloquent lyrics as, "Marijuana. Marijuana. LSD. LSD. Teachers do it so why can't we?" I was especially struck by the Generation X anthem "Don't take no lip." When the lead singer took apart a ham sandwich with cheese and threw it into the crowd, I chalked up yet another episode to a culturally bankrupt entertainment industry.
It's not just that entertainment in our society is chronically devoid of tasteful meaning; the industry has also become socially destructive. In a society that is saturated with exposure to violence, life has begun to imitate art.
In Portland, Ore., police are without solutions. Gang violence has rapidly increased over the past five years. White inner city youths carry self-made weapons of stealth and mass violence.
One might assume that these kids have learned their nefarious and vicious trade from migrated Los Angeles gang members, but police maintain that the youth have been educated via television and film. Games of "cowboys and Indians" have turned into deadly post-adolescent pursuits.
The Portland example does not stand alone.
Beginning in the spring, and continuing into the summer, America slowly became obsessed with bombs. Rid of the Cold War fear of the "big one", Hollywood and society turned to the bedeviling intrigue of the terrorist bomber. "Speed" riveted summer moviegoers as Dennis Hopper turned in the consummate portrayal of a mad bomber. "Blown Away" came later and with less acclaim, but the theme of explosion was planted firmly in the American mind.
Perhaps unrelated, but nevertheless unnerving, were the highly visible real-life bombings that occurred shortly after the release of these films. There was the re-emergence of a serial mail bomber followed by a separate incident involving a New York city subway bombing.
Bomb movies weren't the only films causing social mayhem. Last spring, "In the Line of Fire" was a major box office success. The charming and intelligent villain was on a mission to shoot the President of United States, and only Clint Eastwood could stop him. Strangely enough, the movie directly preceded three possible attempts on President Bill Clinton's life, two of them using a gun.
Many may disagree with my assertions arguing that the events are merely coincidence made more probable by an increasingly violent society -- an evolution with an origin separate from art and media.
But as Ronald Reagan's 83rd birthday arrives on February 6th, one cannot forget John Hinkley. Obsessed with film star Jodi Foster, Hinkley shot Reagan in a desperate attempt to gain Foster's attention.
How do we separate the effects of art on reality from the influence of reality on art? Identifying the separation is close to impossible. Jodi Foster was not responsible for Hinkley's actions -- his insanity took root well before her stardom. The example, however, is illustrative of the ability of film to partially trigger social destruction.
But Hollywood and the media must share collective responsibility for the welfare of society. Currently, entertainment industry decision makers stand as modern day P.T. Barnums. In the early 20th-century, Barnum, with his circus hoaxes, made a fortune off the gullibility of Americans. In the '90s, entertainment industry robber barons profit off the dissolution and desecration of American culture.
Quentin Tarrantino's recent film, "Pulp Fiction," is representative of the responsibility debate. Steeped with drug use and murder, the movie is the pinnacle example of escalating violence and social debauchery in American film. No matter how clever and ingenious, the film's lasting effect will be its powerful reinforcement of negative societal stereotypes.
A dead black man is shown as no better than garbage. Gays are portrayed as violent perverts. One female character sits at home, takes drugs and listens to bad covers performed by bands like Urge Overkill. Another woman lies in bed all day and dreams of a pudgy tummy. The administering of drugs is made familiar to the average viewer, and their deadly effects are dressed down. In one scene, a character walks home carrying her shoes after taking an adrenaline stab to the heart.
Tarrantino and his defenders claim that his film is merely a satirical parody of real society -- a manifestation of society's demand for violence. Wrong does not stem from the film. Instead, the film merely caters to the wrong.
But what about Portland and communities like it across the nation? Youth gang members along with ordinary teens witness the film's callousness towards violence. They are shown that drugs really aren't all that deadly and are familiarized with their use.
The ultimate question then, is not how to separate the effects of art on the real and the influence of the real on art. Instead, it is whether or not the youth of our society are able to discern the difference between the real versus the surreal or sublime. Often unguided and uneducated, they cannot.
The tragic irony is that as a society we repeatedly reward the entertainment industry for helping degrade and dissolve our society and culture. This spring, Tarrantino will take home an Oscar, and somewhere in America, a young boy will pop in a video and create a home theater of drugs and murder.
