*Honor The Memory Of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg- Soldiers of The Revolution

Click On Title To Link To The Rosenberg Defense Fund For Children

The very recent disclosures through the release of previously classified documents of possible perjury to the grand jury by Ethel Rosenberg's brother and sister-in-law and co-defendant Morton Sobel's seeming confession that he acted as a spy on behalf of the Soviet Union during World War II have forced me to post this review earlier than I had anticipated. The comments I made below I stand by. I, however, am beginning to develop an even stronger respect for what Julius Rosenberg tried to do in defense of the Soviet Union- when it counted by someone who could do something about it. More later on these soldiers of the revolution.


DVD REVIEW

Heir To An Execution, directed by Ivy Meeropol, 2004

This year marks the 55th Anniversary of the execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg by the American state. As I mentioned in a March 2007 review of a book on their case –they were not our people, but they were our people (meaning they doggedly adhered to the Stalinist line to the end but also upheld the defense of the Soviet Union, as they understood it, as well). Below is a DVD review of a documentary of their lives produced by one of their granddaughters who, although she does not appear to be particularly political, has as many questions about the fate of her grandparents as we militant leftists do.


The first two paragraphs are taken from that previous March 2007 review to set the stage for the kind of questions that their granddaughter, Ivy Meeropol, daughter of Julius and Ethel’s son Robert attempted to deal with on this political case although the thrust of her work was to find out how the case affected her family and their friends as much as anything else.


“Eisenhower, Stalin, the Cold War, the Korean War, atomic bombs, atomic spies, air raid shelters, the “Red Scare”, McCarthyism and the Rosenbergs- in the mist of time these were early, if undigested terms, from my childhood. Ah, the Rosenbergs. That is what I want to write about today. Out of all of those undigested terms that name is the one that still evokes deep emotion in these old bones. For those who have forgotten, or those too young to remember, the controversy surrounding their convictions for espionage in passing information about the atomic bomb to the now defunct Soviet Union and their executions defined an essential part of the 1950’s, the hardening of the Cold War period in American history. Their controversial convictions and sentencing evoked widespread protests throughout the world. Thus, those who seek to learn the lessons of history, our working class history, and about justice American-style should take the time to carefully examine the case and come to some conclusions about it….

…And what questions drive the scholarship on the case? Was their trial a frame-up in classic American-style against leftist political opponents of the Cold War and American foreign policy? Were they, individually or collectively, “master spies” at the service of the Soviet Union? Were they innocent, if misguided, progressives caught up in the turmoil of the American “red scare” of the post-World War II period? Did the government through its FBI and other security agencies, its attorneys, its judges stumble into a case which would make many reputations? Did the American Communist Party, itself under severe scrutiny and persecution, betray the Rosenbergs? Did the various international campaigns on behalf of the couple work at cross purposes with their various demands for a new trial, reduction of sentence and clemency? What kind of people were these Rosenbergs? In short, were the Rosenbergs heroic Soviet spies, martyrs, dupes or innocents? Those are the questions thoughtful readers are confronted with and I will deal with at least some of them in due course in latter commentaries.”

These same questions mentioned above stalk the viewer today after watching this very personal, and at times tearful, take on the case. Clearly the evident adduced argues more forcefully, especially in light of the Verona tapes, that the Rosenbergs did something illegal, although not what they were executed for. As clearly, as well, they were abandoned by friends and family then and it appears unto the nth generation from Ms. Meeropol’s frustrated efforts to put the picture of their lives together through some of the relatives. Moreover, the toll on the two Rosenberg (Meeropol) children (and through them their children) makes this at some level something of a life time curse.

Yet here is a picture that I have constructed that seems to me to be a little closer to the truth. I like the picture of Julius leading a march in defense of freedom for labor leader Tom Mooney at City College of New York in the early 1930’s. I like the picture of Ethel singing in Times Square for the benefit of the Spanish Republicans. I will stick with my original take on the fate of the Rosenbergs- they, in their own ways and for their own purposes, were soldiers of the revolution, and didn’t complain about it or their fates. Yes, I like that idea. Yes, that is why at the beginning of this piece I could say without hesitation that these were our people, although they were not our people. Watch this and see why and then go out and get some books on the subject.

Out In The Be-Bop 1950s Cold War Night- Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer Is On The Case- “Kiss Me Deadly”- A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Kiss Me Deadly.

DVD Review

Kiss Me Deadly, Ralph Meeker, Cloris Leachman, directed by Robert Aldrich, 1955

Sure I‘m a film noir buff. And sure I like my film detectives that way as well, Sam Spade, Nick and Nora Charles, Phillip Marlowe and so on. Normally Mickey Spillane and his 1950s-style detective, Mike Hammer, would no hit my radar though. Believe me I did, however, spent many a misbegotten hour reading Spillane’s detective stories, maybe as much for cover art work that ran to provocative bosomy, half-clothed femme fatale dames in distress as for the insipid story line that ran heavily to Mike’s anti-communist warrior pose ready to smash heads at the drop of a hat, and grab an off-hand kiss from every dame he ran into along the way. Aside for the question of that scurrilous (now scurrilous, maybe) cover art that is better left for another day my tastes in detectives were more to the “highbrow” Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammet and their more knight-errant-worthy story lines, and a little more reserve in the fist department, although for a damsel in distress they were ready to duke it out with anyone, and gladly.

That said, now along comes this classic 1950s film noir Mike Hammer story line and I was hooked, well, maybe not hooked so much as intrigued by it. Moreover, director Richard Aldrich seems to have had a flair for the noir film, from those black and white filmed shots of streets scenes in the seamy Los Angeles be-bop night (and day too, come to think of it), to an incredible be-bop jazz bar scene, complete with “torch” singer where after the lost of a friend Mike gets plastered (drunk), to the endless line-up of high end “golden age of the automobile” cars on display. Of course there is the normal bevy (maybe two bevies, I didn’t count) of alluring, mysterious women just waiting to fall into Mike’s arms when he comes within fifty paces of them, and he is, as usual, ready to put on his white knight uniform when he senses that something in evil in the world, and he most definitely is willing to thumb his nose as the governmental authorities who are always just a step, or seven, behind the flow of the action. But most of that is all in a day’s work for a noir detective. What makes this one stick out is the doom’s day plot.

Of course, the 1950s was not only about the rise of the “beats” and of teen alienation and angst-driven rock and roll but the heart of the international Cold War, a scary time no question, where if things had taken a half-twist a different way. Well, who knows, but it was not going to be pretty. And part of that Cold War, a central part, was the presence of the “bomb”, and for those who are too young to remember that was nothing but the atomic and hydrogen bombs that could, at any non-be-bop minute, blow the planet away.

And it is that threat that underlines old Mickey Spillane’s tale. See, with that kind of threat, but also the power potential , private parties, evil private parties could think of all kinds of nasty ways to wreak havoc on the world. If only they could get just a little of that bomb power. And that lust, that seemingly eternal lust, for power by certain of our fellows is where we are heading. See, someone privy to the atomic secrets (no, not the heroic Rosenburgs, this guy was in it for the dough) had a little pot of the stuff ready for the highest bidder. And the highest bidder, so to speak, also happens to be a guy with plenty of dough to buy a ton of modern art (and a fondness for classic quotes). I knew there was something funny about those modern art collecting guys. Didn’t you?

And all it takes to spoil that nefarious plan is one Mike Hammer. Now, and here is the beauty of the Spillane method, this is not for governmental agents to handle, as one would think in trusting 1950s America, although they are hot on the trail but one threadworn detective. Threadworn? Yes, threadworm. See Mike is nothing but a low-rent, dirt-peddling divorce work detective (in the days when such dirt was necessary to get that desperate divorce), working this racket with his girl Friday (and lure), Velda. But see maybe Mike just fell on hard times and needed some dough (although his car, office set-up, digs… and fetching Velda belie that). But once Mike gets on the case, and only when he knows in his gut that something is wrong and he has that feeling here, then they are no limits. He faces off the mob (naturally, if there is something evil to broker they are in on it), half-mad women (one that he picked up on the hitchhike road, kind of, and her roommate) and that relentless modern art collector before he is through. I could go on but, really, this is one you have to see. And add to your list of film noir be-bop nights.