Recently, I saw two films directed by Polanski that I hadn’t seen before. The first one, which I saw last night, was Chinatown. As a neo-noir film, it exhibits the typical qualities of a story set in a world of all-powerful mafias and profoundly corrupt police. Critics have rightfully seen it as a major milestone in U.S. cinema: it has all the qualities of a very entertaining but also deeply serious narrative, both visually and textually. It reveals the power of corruption like few other movies do and, of course, ends on a correspondingly desolate note.
The second film, which I saw several days ago, was The Ninth Gate. It tells of the book-dealer Dean Corso and the rich rare-book collector Mr. Balkan who hires Corso to investigate a very sinister book. The tome supposedly exists in only three copies, and allows its reader to summon the Devil (Lucifer, Satan, etc.). The premise itself looks like an invitation for comedy, but the viewer sooner or later discovers that no comic effect is intended. Instead, Corso manages to discover the secret of the three copies, and to presumably meet Lucifer at the end of the film. What the movie betrays even to a person casually watching it is that all the characters are obsessed with the power the book can purportedly grant – even Corso, who is essentially only in for the money. Nothing is sacred, and nothing is unthinkable in order to possess the book; murder becomes a trivial matter if it leads to acquiring the object of power, or any substantial knowledge about it.
I do not know the film’s source – the book upon which it has been based, but I definitely see some parallels between the film’s messages and Polanski’s behaviour in the rape case. The director does not seem to be a mafioso who plans his crimes thoroughly; nor does he look like a criminally insane person. Nevertheless, I think he carries a madness that is very visible everywhere these days: the madness of power. Of the conviction that one can do anything if they are rich enough; of the persuasion that one can do things simply because one can, simply because one is empowered, and also get away with it.
Rape is one of the most disgusting crimes I can think of. It destroys the life of the victim and leaves them in a constant state of fear and horror. It makes every step they take one of essential, inescapable uncertainty, and of pain. There is no excuse for this crime. It leaves a rotten stain so enormous on the soul and mind of the perpetrator that nothing can ever remove it; the rapist must suffer not only the judicial punishment, but also the dissolution of their personality under the acid of the crime – and that is one acid that remains inside for life. One cannot accept that someone might believe such a crime is insignificant – unless that someone does not believe in the sacredness of life itself. And, unfortunately, that might be something we could claim about Polanski, especially after his experiences as a small boy in Nazi-occupied Poland, and certainly after the brutal murder of his pregnant wife Sharon Tate in 1969. The director himself stated in his autobiography that the murder replaced any remnants of religious faith he had with a “faith in the absurd”.
So why do we hear all this noise about his recent arrest? He is obviously a deeply disturbed person, someone whose world-view is irreparably tainted, and someone who finds solace and some resemblance of sense only in film-making. Yes, he must be sentenced, and incarcerated, and so on, and so forth. But why all the fuss around that? Is it not something we all agree upon? Is it not something logical, accepted long ago?
The reason behind the media explosion over this lies elsewhere. As Jonas (linking to WSWS) pointed out, catching an individual criminal will divert the attention of the public from all other criminals who work together to fill their bellies while that same public is suffering. As we all know, the USA is spending hundreds of billions of dollars to rescue failing financial institutions that have spun way out of control because of their greed. Do those people get caught, tried, and sentenced? Not really. They pay themselves hundreds of millions in bonuses even now (via BoingBoing). The media owned by corporations distracts the public with a criminal who committed one crime more than 30 years ago; even the victim of the crime said she wished for an end of the whole hunting-in-wait because her private life suffers from it. So that is why lots of people are filing their teeth as if they were wolves that have caught a lamb. Meanwhile, the big financial fish continue swimming and slipping away, unperturbed. They are joined by illegal wiretappers, war criminals, and many others. For how long? No one can tell.
Polanski may be extradited, tried again, and sentenced. But what exactly will that sentence be for someone who has been, in a sense, hiding for the last thirty years? That question remains to be answered by the great legal minds who do not want to consider the victim’s position. As a ploy for distraction from the perpetrators of the US financial disaster, of the illegal wiretapping, of war crimes, however: this seems to be working very well. Great journalistic spirit. Serious reporting work. Bravo. Q. W3ary out.