Posted on 03/25/2003 11:12:42 PM PST by lainie
Last night, the Academy Awards had an opportunity to have a Defining Moment. Hollywood had a chance to say something powerful, but the moment was lost.
You might think I'm speaking about the current military action, where we're stumblingly thumping Iraq into submission, but I'm not. Michael Moore grabbed the moment to spout something about the war, but -- whether I agree with him or not -- I found his approach to dissent tacky and ill-timed. I sincerely hope none of the parents of dead or captured American soldiers saw his petulant 'attempted rant.' (Thank god Peter O'Toole, former inveterate drunk, brought some dignity back to the whole event.)
No, the moment that was lost (for me, at least) was when Harrison Ford stood at the podium to announce the winner of the award for Best Director. So many figured it was Martin Scorsese's year -- more of a career award than a single distinction for "Gangs of New York." But it was not to be. Instead, with a smile of pleasure, Ford announced the winner: Roman Polanski.
Roman Polanski -- brilliant auteur and Holocaust survivor.
Roman Polanski -- child rapist and cowardly fugitive from justice.
I know there are those who say you must separate the art from the person. I recall hearing a lot of that from Woody Allen apologists after the pathetic, sordid details emerged of his affair with Soon-Yi Previn, adopted daughter of his lover, Mia Farrow. Sorry, fans of the artiste, I couldn't separate the craft and the person. I haven't seen a Woody Allen movie since.
Despite that hackneyed line about separating the art and the artist, so much Hollywood doubletalk about cinema says that the art comes from the very soul of the artist. A director's movie is his greatest form of self-expression. Well, if that's the case, why should it be a surprise that I don't want to experience what lies in the soul of a dirty old man? Thanks, but I'll pass on the Polanski films.
I'm sure that "The Pianist" tells a tremendously compelling story. How could the story of Wladyslaw Szpilman be anything but utterly compelling? It's based on his own words and experiences. Before his death in 2000, Szpilman had lived the exemplary life of a true artist, not only surviving and succeeding through the horrors of Nazism and Communism, but continuing to creatively bloom for many decades, sharing his gifts with children and aspiring musicians around the world.
But if I want to learn more about Szpilman's inspiring story, I'll read his words rather than see the movie. Why? Because the man who made the movie fills me with disgust.
Because Roman Polanski is a child rapist.
In 1977, in a bedroom in Jack Nicholson's house, Polanski drugged, raped, and sodomized a 13-year-old girl. Nauseatingly, with the girl's mother's permission, Polanski took the child to Nicholson's home under the pretense of taking fashion photos of her. It ended with a horrible act of child molestation and his admonition of her to tell no one about it. (Nicholson's then lover, Anjelica Huston, was in the house at the time, yet did not call the police or stop his assault.) To avoid the embarrassment of a trial, Polanski plead guilty to having had "unlawful sexual relations" with the child. However, before sentence could be pronounced, Polanski cowardly fled the United States for France, where he held citizenship. French law forbids the extradition of its citizens under any circumstances. Roman Polanski was a free man.
During the Second World War, Polanski, a Polish Jew, was imprisoned at Auschwitz, and no one can doubt the horrors he survived. In 1969, his pregnant wife, Sharon Tate, was brutally murdered by Charles Manson and his psychotic cohorts. Surely he had suffered greatly. Many of Polanski's friends said he couldn't stand the thought of being imprisoned for his crime after his time at Auschwitz and felt sorry for his predicament. They were glad he had fled to Europe, where he could continue his career.
However, many people have survived great suffering without turning to crime themselves. I think it is a tremendous insult to the strength and character of both Holocaust survivors and the families of murder victims to suggest that their experiences and struggles gives them the right to be child molesters and rapists and yet remain free. How incredibly repugnant and, frankly, bizarre!
Over the years, Polanski's star -- once glimmering with films like "Chinatown" and "Rosemary's Baby" -- has dimmed, and only with the release of "The Pianist" has he received true critical attention again. (Less, I would hope, for his involvement and more for the riveting story told.) As acclaim has been heaped on "The Pianist," waves of warmth and reconciliation have started washing up on Polanski's doorstep. Many in Hollywood have called for the judgment against him to be overturned so this "brilliant mind" can return to the welcoming arms of conveniently forgetful Los Angeles. Some are quick to note that Polanski's victim, now a housewife headed for middle-age, wants the whole case thrown out and forgotten.
Analysts that work with survivors of sexual abuse and rape have noted repeatedly that victims often want the cases closed and forgotten because they desperately seek closure to move on in their lives. When their abusers continue to roam around years later, it's easier for the survivors to try to forget all about it than consider the fact that evil still walks free, possibly abusing others. Nothing of note has been written about Polanski's personal life in Europe after the 1977 incident in Los Angeles. More liberal European views of sexuality may have made France a hospitable refuge for a man who enjoys the favors of underaged girls. After all, a year before raping the 13-year-old, Polanski was carrying on an affair with German child actress Nastassja Kinski, who was 15 at the time.
Back in Los Angeles, District Attorney Gil Garcetti has continued to hold firm to the concept that, if Polanski steps foot in the United States, he will be sentenced for his 1977 crime and his subsequent flight from punishment. And I applaud him. He is doing nothing more nor less than any other competent D.A. would do in a child rape case. (Personally, I would love to see John Walsh do a segment on Polanski on "America's Most Wanted." Unfortunately, there are too many horrible creeps hiding out there to waste a show on one that hides in the open.)
The outcry on behalf of Polanski from ultra-liberal Hollywood appalls me. On a night of peace signs and tears for people thousands of miles away, in the time of Elizabeth Smart and hundreds of other abused children, many of cinema's elite seem far too willing to forget common sense and decency when it is one of their own being rightfully vilified for a wretched, timeless crime. (A crime, might I add, that took place just a short SUV or ultra-PC hybrid ride away from the Kodak Theater.) Had Roman Polanski not directed "Chinatown", I'm sure most of the left-tilted, Harry Winston-ed crowd would applaud Garcetti and even offer words of outrage and smidgeons of their own largesse to funds to get this child molester back to the L.A. County Jail.
Instead, last night, when Harrison Ford smiled his off-kilter forty million dollar smile, crinkled his eyes and said, "Roman Polanski," Hollywood cheered. They whistled. They clapped. They gave him a standing ovation.
What a shame.
The cameraman zoomed in on Jack Nicholson and, sitting a few rows away, Anjelica Huston, clapping wildly. Kudos from the crime scene residents.
What a shame, indeed.
Had the applause been for Wladyslaw Szpilman, I would have been delighted. Instead, they celebrated the victory of another Holocaust survivor. I have such respect for the heroism of Holocaust survivors, and this man tarnishes the noble memory of those who suffered, survived, and emerged with spirit and soul intact.
After the war, Wladyslaw Szpilman turned to writing music for children and organizing international festivals to encourage youth in music. Roman Polanski, on the other hand, used children as objects of his sexual sickness. He deserves no place in our modern pantheon of creative geniuses.
I have been harboring a fantasy all day. In my head I see Harrison Ford up on stage. He announces Roman Polanski's name. There is a smattering of polite applause that quickly sputters and dies and is replaced by uncomfortable silence. Ford approaches the microphone and calmly says, "Roman Polanski is not here this evening for obvious reasons. However, Gil Garcetti will be holding the Oscar for him. Come and get it, bubba. Gil will be happy to see you."]
But that's not reality, is it? Michael Moore, in his aborted rant, did say something quite on point before he was drowned out by an orchestral flourish. We *do* live in fictitious times. But while Moore cast his jaded commentary nationwide, I think the net should have been tossed with a lighter hand. Moore works in a community of delusion. And all those citizens of fantasy land standing for Polanski last night need a serious wake-up call. Hollywood: before you condemn your government, your nation, and its youth (sacrificing their lives on behalf of your country), demonstrate that you yourselves have basic respect for human life. Do not support a child rapist. Get a grip.
No doubt many of us agree 100%.
The Democrats are as evil as the Muslims, albeit for different reasons, but is why they hang together.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.