Some of Hollywood’s best and brightest have begun to communicate their social concern on the screen -- the best media they possess. Like the bulk of the anti-war public, Robert Redford feels discouraged, if not downright disillusioned with the political processes. Massive demonstrations, along with other traditional protest forms, did not prevent Bush from invading Iraq; nor has massive opposition as reflected in public opinion polls and the 2006 elections moved him to pull back. Indeed, in last November’s races, Democrats promised to withdraw troops from Iraq; yet, they fail to garner necessary votes to comply with their promise. On the anti-war left, some head shakers alternately direct righteous wrath against Bush and Cheney and at House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. She cannot forge a winning consensus in the House, and refuses to allow the impeachment of Bush and Cheney to intrude on her agenda -- “the votes aren’t there” -- the center piece of which is the unresolved Iraq War. Democrats attach withdrawal timetables on appropriations for the Iraq War; Bush vetoes the constraints. Republicans and a few Blue Dog Democrats block a veto override despite the pollsters’ figures: more than 70% of the public want the war to end. In this climate, Hollywood steps in alongside a score of anti-war documentaries (“Gunner’s Palace, “No End in Sight” and “Baghdad ER”) and feature films like “Syriana,” “In the Valley of Elah,” “Rendition” and “Lions for Lambs.” In “Lambs”, Robert Redford, a principled professor attempts a more reflective form of cinema. Unlike “Elah” and “Rendition, which used plot and story lines to bring home their messages, Redford allows for minimal appeal to Hollywood grammar, which is designed to hit audiences in their emotional stomachs. So, Redford (Professor Stephen Malley) asks his ace student, and implicitly everyone in the audience: when will you act like a citizen instead of a consumer and help extract the country from the Bush terror mess? Director Redford tries to provoke the viewing public to think, so they will become actors in the intense drama of their lives. To make this point, he uses stage play dialogue and scenes which, when they enter the language of movies emerge as didactics, as if Redford applied the brakes unnecessarily to slow down the pace of the cinematic form; thus, despite the action scenes that inter-cut with the talky parts, the film becomes sermonesque. Good intentions spew from the script, but even the witty George Bernard Shaw would have had problems maintaining his audience’s attention without changing his dialogue patterns. In 2007, in the movies, characters must crackle with wit and tension to sustain the energy of an “idea film.” Indeed, had Shaw penned the lines, Meryl Streep’s journalist (Janine Roth) and Tom Cruise’s Senator (Jasper Irving) might have enjoyed a more pointed duel of ideas. She knows the Senator has convinced the President to employ dangerous military games with other people’s lives. Unfortunately Redford uses Streep’s hot flashes to diminish her passion as she verbally jousts with the Senator and her own boss at the TV station. “Lambs” consists of 2 dialogues: one between the Senator and the Journalist (Cruise and Streep), the other between the Professor and his student (Redford and Andrew Garfield). Redford intersperses these conversations with action: the scene shifts to U.S. Special Forces members Ernest Rodriguez (Michael Pena) and Arian Finch (Derek Luke) on a chopper in Afghanistan. They, former students of Malley’s, and their unit have begun to carry out Sen. Irving’s “new strategy.” (Another reviewer said “Lambs” was “Ibsen with helicopters.” New Yorker Nov. 12, 2007, p.99) The combat scenes awaken the audience. Ernest gets hit by Taliban ground fire and falls from the helicopter. His buddy jumps after him into a snowy terrain as the bad guys close in. These two once studied with Professor Malley and, as he tells it, they joined the military -- against his advice -- to give something back to their country after 9/11. Malley tries to convince the brilliant Todd Hayes (Andrew Garfield) that he should realize his talents and contribute to the world, not concede his intelligence to the trivia of pleasure-drenched commercial America. Commit to something, he beseeches the cynical student. But the scenes of his two former -- and very committed -- students wounded and in danger of dying so a Senator can climb the presidential ladder, makes one wonders if the Professor explained commitment a bit too loosely. The war sequences offer a few vicariously exciting moments in Lions for Lambs. Ernest and Arian seem like nice guys, though naïve. Hayes, on the other hand, comes off as too flip and wise-guy-ish to worry about. He doesn’t care. So why should we care about him? He represents the apparent disdain most Americans seem to feel about Bush’s War on Terror or anything else related to the world of politics. Malley tries to break through to him, but one wonders whether his well-meaning social studies arguments -- wooden on screen or classroom -- will sink in. Sen. Irving, on the other hand, knows how to “win.” Aggression pours from him as he explains to Janine his new “plan.” The shrewd veteran journalist sees through it as a repetition of the non-think that propelled the country into Iraq. Radical military action based on false intelligence. The Senator, high on his own ambition, parries her questions with smug self assurance when he must answer her question about his certainty that “you’re going to get it right this time.” Like the real Senators and the President -- if ”real” is not too strong a word for Bush -- the Tom Cruise character has no thoughts of consequences if something goes wrong. He reminds one of a younger John McCain with the ferocity of a Rudy Giuliani and men with even lesser intellects in the Ridiculous Party. This clean-cut poseur patriot shows through body posture, facial expressions, and nuances of movement that he worships only the gods of power and ambition. I could picture the Senator in a whore house -- male or female -- after he finishes spouting optimistic platitudes. Does he believe them? Could anyone who thought about “winning” a war of occupation in the 21st Century believe in such blather? Would one use “belief” or “think” with Bush? Janine knows the Senator’s daring guns-blazing tactic means a step toward gaining NRA and other kill-happy Americans’ support for a presidential run. As she wonders whether to report his perilous chicanery, military action proceeds and, in war, if anything can go wrong it does. I thought of how Bertoldt Brecht might have approached the subject. The German Marxist didn’t want to play to the emotions, in which the audience identifies with the hero or heroine. Rather, he thought good theater and by extension cinema should push the buttons of reason and reflection, help the viewer and listener convert passivity into an actively critical point of view. The actor would break from the role and remind the public they were in a theater, not in a real setting, he would have bizarre lighting and sound effects, use music to break the trance of the drama and have a chorus explain important points or present riddles. Brecht used the epic form to teach through theater. Jean Luc Godard tried some of this in his 1960s films, which flopped badly at the box office and did not noticeably stir audiences. Hollywood’s grammarians have successfully conditioned U.S. audiences to expect certain levels of satisfaction at the movies and when the politically concerned, like Redford, try to transcend this grammar by injecting serious plots and ideas, it becomes a creative challenge that few can meet. How would Brecht have written the dialogue between professor and student, journalist and Senator? Prof. Malley: I am Socrates, a man with questions but no answers. Who are you? Student: I don’t know. I think I seek pleasure because what I have seen of politics appears impenetrable. Perhaps, the pursuit of young women and companionship with fellow shoppers suits my inclination. Prof.: Do you have no desire to act in the drama of your time? Student: I see no role for myself. Prof.: Do you lack imagination, except for the things you desire to buy? Student: I see fools governing my country, fools running the world, fools using words like globalization to mean universal shopping. How can I carve a meaningful role in a scenario designed by those who think only of increasing their fortunes? Prof.: Are you saying you possess neither the heart nor mind to confront difficult situations? Is that what you and your fellow students use as an excuse from participating? Such dialogue could even be sung. The traditional Hollywood formula, employed by “In The Valley of Elah” shaped its anti-war message through a traditional plot and story -- missing son, worried father, murder investigation. It made its points by allowing the horrors of the Iraq War to unfold within the confines of the protagonist’s investigation of his son’s murder. Redford tried to use dialogue to challenge the cinematic conditioning the public has received since infancy, with a little action to illustrate. Such a formula stands little chance of provoking serious reflection -- at least in someone like me. Nice try from a great guy!