Dishonest Denim

Why has the blue-collar worker been so neglected by American movies? Because his life does not usually lend itself to that combination of melodramatic sensationalism and escapist fantasy on which Hollywood thrives. There are no opulent furnishings, exotic journeys, or even, presumably, clever repartee in such a life. Its violence and crimes are considered merely sordid, except when they become so spectacular as to turn the movie into a genre film, a gangster or caper picture, a policier or film noir. In short, a film that no longer concerns itself with the everyday realities of working-class life.

Rightly or wrongly, working-class reality is assumed to be something that the blue-collar moviegoer wants to transcend as soon as possible; or, having risen above it, never look back upon. Yet one aspect of workers’ lives is dynamic and dramatic by any standard: the labor union movement and the struggle upward on the economic ladder. But that is explosive material, not calculated to please the capitalists who finance movies, and apt to displease, no matter how it is handled, one or another class of viewers. Manual labor itself is not considered photogenic, except perhaps in a short documentary about jockeys, glass blowers, or steeplejacks. As for full-length documentaries —or any narrative films that might resemble them excessively—they are as welcome at the box office as the Black Death.

JS

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John Simon

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Why has the blue-collar worker been so neglected by American movies? Because his life does not usually lend itself to that combination of melodramatic sensationalism and escapist fantasy on which Hollywood thrives. There are no opulent furnishings, exotic journeys, or even, presumably, clever repartee in such a life. Its violence and crimes are considered merely sordid, except when they become so spectacular as to turn the movie into a genre film, a gangster or caper picture, a policier or film noir. In short, a film that no longer concerns itself with the everyday realities of working-class life.

Rightly or wrongly, working-class reality is assumed to be something that the blue-collar moviegoer wants to transcend as soon as possible; or, having risen above it, never look back upon. Yet one aspect of workers’ lives is dynamic and dramatic by any standard: the labor union movement and the struggle upward on the economic ladder. But that is explosive material, not calculated to please the capitalists who finance movies, and apt to displease, no matter how it is handled, one or another class of viewers. Manual labor itself is not considered photogenic, except perhaps in a short documentary about jockeys, glass blowers, or steeplejacks. As for full-length documentaries —or any narrative films that might resemble them excessively—they are as welcome at the box office as the Black Death.