Humourless Marxist Reviews: Avengers: Infinity War

InfinityWar

Avengers: Infinity War is the 17th film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The film (which one would think was a sequel to 2015’s Avengers: Age of Ultron), follows a group of mainly unrecognisable characters fighting some sort of space goblin with a magic glove.

As far as our team of reviewers could ascertain, the space thing has to get all these stones, right? And each of the stones represents one aspect of the universe (love, peace, mind, sex, and love), which will allow him to murder half the universe in an instant. The bad elf guy has been trying to do this for ages, as explained by the film’s witty protagonist Tony Starks in rap form:

Classic genocide, slick gun material; burnt up bodies that rock with no burial.

The Avengers are made up of a diverse group of heroes: Iron Man, Iron Man’s child soldier, Thor, Trife Da God, the Scarlet Witch, and some rubbish robot who can’t fight properly despite being a baddie in the last film. Together, they form a guerilla foco determined to take down the space troll. Iron Man is the clear leader, whose critiques of his comrades are confident and full of the expected revolutionary language. Who can forget his words during a struggle session at Starks Towers in Captain Ameri[KKK]a: Civil War, 2015:

Oportünizm bukalemun gibidir. Çeşitli kılıklara bürünerek sosyalist hareket içinde ortaya çıkar. Oportünizmin kılık kıyafetini o ülkenin ekonomik ve sosyal bünyesi, işçi sınıfının politik bilinç ve örgütlenme seviyesi, kısaca ülkenin içinde bulunduğu devrimci aşamanın niteliği belirler. Ancak her çeşit oportünizm proletaryanın devrimci potansiyeline inanmamaya dayanır.

But “revolutionary potential” is just that: potential. “Belief” in this “potential” is no substitute for a holistic strategy and appropriate tactics built out of a united struggle through and with the proletarian masses. At the end of Civil War, our plucky heroes are convinced of Iron Man’s line simply because of the ferocity of his argumentation against Captain AmeriKKKa, and decide to become öncü savaşçılar fighting against any and all threats to humanity or the universe or something.

Güya haklılarmış, kazanacaklar mı?

So in Avengers: Infinity War, they’re fighting their final battle in Africa, which, like Che Guevara’s struggle in the Congo, is tragically doomed to failure. On the plains of Wakanda, with the help of T’Challa, a “milli burjuva” king with similar adventurist tendencies, the gang fights against a load of the stupid space orcs (but smaller than the main one). The main one then kills the robot who has the Sex stone in his head, and then kills half of everyone else.

Oh yeah, spoilers.

So at the end of the film, sitting on a wooden porch looking across the verdant green hills and pastures of a world he has just committed genocide on, the space king sighs, content that his work is done. One might imagine Hitler, in the Berghof, contemplating his work in a world where Stalin had fallen into similar ultra-left error as the so-called “Avengers”.

Is that what you want, Russo Brothers? For Hitler to win? Fuck that.

On behalf of Worker’s Spatula, we award this film one solitary red star out of five red stars.

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Humourless Marxist Reviews: Worker’s Spatula

HMRSpatula

What follows is a Humourless Marxist Review that was originally to be published on Worker’s Spatula – Marxist-Leninist prior to the faction’s reunification with Worker’s Spatula, in which WS–ML reviewed the page from which they had split in terms of our perceived shortcomings. It has been edited so as to not be in ALL CAPS.

Worker’s Spatula is a pompous rag for pseudo-revolutionaries which attempts to cover up its total lack of meaningful intervention into practical politics with a series of jokes so juvenile that even here in Australia they seem a bit insulting to the level of intellectual discourse we expect.

Even where the writers can excuse this total waste of time of a website by making reference to their own political work outside of it, they’re powerless to deny that the overwhelming majority of their readership practise a masturbatory political apathy fueled by depression-anxiety which Worker’s Spatula enable by providing them content with which to obscure their own objective distance from the proletariat and organised politics as such.

Particularly in the US, where most of their readers are.

The page used to do exclusively satire pieces, which, particularly when Australian writers were involved, were occasionally funny. Now they’re trying to reinvent themselves as some sort of lighthearted “platform”, so they don’t even have to make proper jokes anymore. They just write whatever’s on their bloody minds in between classes!

The worst of all their stupid ideas would have to be their “Humourless Marxist Reviews”, which in addition to not being proper satire, couldn’t even really pretend to refer to politics at all. Contrary to what the name implies, they were just stupid jokes about media they hadn’t always even reviewed. These were also the pieces where the “Marxist” analysis was at its thinnest as well. Hopefully they’ll cut that out now that we’ve called them out for it.

They’ve also gone soft on anarchists and Trots lately, particularly since so few of the writers are still in Turkey, the homeland of Marxism-Leninism.

It’s also extremely repetitive. Oh, another piece about your depression, [REDACTED]? Couldn’t have seen that coming. Oh, you’re going to write about the DSA, better mention how the ROL is in charge of it, particularly the Boston branch, for the thousandth time! Oh, another joke about Trump being a communist who’s trying to delegitimise bourgeois democracy and US imperialism and “accelerate the contradictions”? PICK A NEW FUCKING JOKE, YOU HACKS.

Hey, here’s a joke for you: what’s the US equivalent of RaFFWU, the fighting trade union for fast food workers here in Australia? You’d never know from reading Worker’s Spatula, a site with mostly US readers named after the fact that its founders all worked in fast food at some point in their lives, although clearly not any single one of their writers based in the US at present!

All in all, you can see why we left. The only Marxist publication in the English language which has less potential to meaningfully raise up the general theoretical level of internet Marxists and offer an inventive new way to practically intervene in the organising of the next generation of revolutionaries… is all of them.

Give it up now, you cunts.

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Humourless Marxist Reviews: lofi hip hop radio – beats to relax/study to

lofi
Other than the fact that it’s music which you’re listening to right now, there’s another reason why Worker’s Spatula had to review “lofi hip hop radio – beats to relax/study to”: the PKK are behind this channel.

Oh yes, the PKK. The Workers’ Party of Kurdistan, whose leader and chief theoretician is Abdullah Öcalan. That PKK.

Öcalan determined that the PKK needed to operate a lo-fi chill beats radio channel on YouTube years ago while smoking on some particularly potent ganja and thinking about how the patriarchy is the basis for stratification, exploitation, and oppression in human society. His vision was clear: a channel with some of the chillest beats for the oppressed woman who is struggling to bring down the capitalist man-state to relax to after a mission.

The channel was also designed to serve as a soundtrack for revolutionary women studying or producing theoretical works directed at undermining capitalist modernity, as depicted in the channel’s video pane in the format of an anime. While Worker’s Spatula continue to advocate a boycott of all animes produced in Japan, as the anime factories exploit the labour of Zainichi Koreans, the victims of Japanese imperialism, and profits from all animes fund the joint Japanese-Yankee occupation of Okinawa, we are assured by our Kurdish friends that the heroic young woman in this PKK propaganda channel’s video pane was drawn by guerrillas in Rojava.

Dank.

The beats themselves are very relaxing and good for controlling the anxiety which all of us experience, suffering as we do from the trauma of capitalism-imperialism, the undemocratic civilisation. Many of them have elements of traditional Japanese music over lo-fi beats, despite having been produced in Diyarbekir. Others contain samples of classic jazz and hip-hop, television clips, and the sounds of ululating Kurdish guerrilla women firing Kalashnikovs into the air as they defy the man-state in all its forms.

In addition to the anarchists who already listen to this channel when they’re high on marijuanas (as far as we understand, this is their usual state), we would also recommend this channel to the cadres of the THKP-C/MLSPB, who really need to chill the fuck out.

Best songs: “Sunday Vibes” by wünsche, “I fall in love too easily” by StackOne, “Tola Salan”

Worst song: “Piano Man” by Billy Joel

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Humourless Marxist Reviews: Black Panther

KillMonger

I’ve been a white US Marxist-Leninist for many years now, and I thought I had seen some reactionary shit get passed off as progressive. But “Black Panther” really takes the cake, or the Black Muslim bean pie, depending which bourgeois dessert you prefer.

Oh yeah, you heard me, I called the Nation of Islam “bourgeois”. Deal with it.

“Black Panther” is one of those superhero movies, like Batman, where the bourgeoisie rescues the proletariat, but worse in about a hundred ways.

First of all, most of the cast are token black actors designed to distract from the whiteness of Marvel Studios at large. This is justified through the flimsy pretext of inserting the African country of Wakanda into a subplot, ignoring the fact that not a single one of these actors is from Wakanda or even of known Wakandan ancestry.

What’s more, most of these actors are not even Africans, but AMERICANS who just happen to be black. This is a flagrant example of the cultural appropriation of diverse African cultures, from Swahili to Nelson Mandela, by black American “radicals” with their pseudo-scientific “pan-African” ideology that has chosen Wakanda as its latest target.

Do the many so-called “communists” defending this film not see that the bourgeois press is pushing this film specifically because it divides the American working class the exact same way that Trumpism does, with racial “nationalism” based on unscientific myths??? What would Harry Haywood or Paul Robeson say? Probably exactly what I’m saying right now: that black Americans are Americans and they should unite with the rest of the American working class against pan-Africanism and every form of fascism.

There are some who would balk at my use of the word “fascism” to describe the “pan-African” ideology behind the appropriation of Wakandan history and culture in the film. But it’s true. There’s an economic crisis and “pan-African” is racialist and that’s fascism. You can’t argue with that, or else you’re a fake Marxist.

Also, the heroes of the film are all defending a monarchy, which is about as “revolutionary” as defending Saudi Arabia. Actually the Wakandan and Saudi royal families have close ties, and their business interests align with Israel. This is your “decolonised” cinema, Tumblr?

No, I, like Erik Killmonger, demand real anti-imperialism and real national liberation for the downtrodden Wakandan proletariat, and not cultural tokenism in bourgeois white cinema built on monarchism, compradorism, and other forms of reaction which deny the class contradictions of Wakandan society! This love letter to the Wakandan royal family’s only redeeming quality is in telling the heroic story of Erik Killmonger, the anti-imperialist hero Wakanda needs!

Speaking of Erik Killmonger, this figure is also deeply problematic, and I can’t stand all the “Marxists” trying to rescue this film by posing him as a hero. Beyond his opposition to the comprador monarchy and his ostensible anti-imperialism (as displayed in the dialogue in the museum scene), Killmonger is like one of those South Africans who condemned Apartheid and the Bantustan system built on comprador monarchs, but who makes excuses for the “post-Apartheid” system. Really makes you wonder if the Soviet revisionists should have even supported the CPSA and the ANF if they weren’t even going to build socialism.

Killmonger knows that the imperialist bourgeoisie stole from him, but nowhere does he mention that Africa is a patriarchy, and was reactionary before white people showed up.

That’s also kind of racist, if you think about it.

Also, vibranium is not even a real metal. I have the periodic table memorised, and it’s just not.

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Humourless Marxist Reviews – Rolling Blackouts C.F. (French Press)

FrenchPress

Following the Melbourne outfit’s recent release of a song about the refugee crisis, Worker’s Spatula’s local correspondent was immediately dispatched to be the first person to listen to an entire EP of music by this white Australian hipster band stone cold bloody sober.

Furthermore, the fact that their 2016 release Talk Tight mocks a bourgeois white Australian man who abandons his past life of fighting the bourgeoisie in favour of careerism boded extremely well for the listening session. Could it be that Worker’s Spatula have finally stumbled upon an indie rock band for the post-2008 crisis era, an era of renewed imperialist contradictions and class struggle?

It is true that like every rock recording carried out in the greater Melbourne metropolitan area, the basic message of French Press is that life under capitalism-imperialism is inherently alienating. But do the Rolling Blackouts C.F. embrace the historical Gramscian mission that Australian society necessitates? Are Rolling Blackouts C.F. organic intellectuals of proletarian counter-hegemony, selflessly playing rock and roll music in a vanguard quest to propagate our ruthlessly critical ideology of revolution and liberation?

RollingBlackoutsCF

As their management wrote back to us when we posed that exact question by e-mail: “Thanks so much for your interest, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

Few words could better express the Marxist ideological motif which runs consistently through the entirety of the French Press EP. The lyrics reflect the crystalised proletarian consciousness of the vanguard of the white Australian working class, not only in the characters’ own proletarian ‘cultural’ character and knowledge of their place relative to the bourgeoisie and the profit motive, but in the ultimate revolutionary break necessary with labour aristocratic syndicalism and reformism reflected in the final track, “Fountain of Good Fortune”, in which a scathing mockery of oppressor imperialist nationalist mentality common not only to the capitalist class, but in the band’s own words, the whole “selfish country”.

Yes, “Fountain of Good Fortune” is a song reflecting the heightened consciousness of a proletariat so revolutionary it even grasps the limitations of its own class consciousness divorced from the totality of contradictions of class society. Only by opposing all privileges which have been normalised by socialisation into class society can the proletariat truly be united into a revolutionary fighting force. Only by demanding liberation for the oppressed Aboriginal people, for the West Papuans and their toiling sisters and brothers suffering under the yoke of the Australian-backed O’Neill government, for the refugees forced to Australia’s cursed shores by Australian-funded wars, only then will the necessary alignment of forces exist such that the final struggle between bourgeoisie and proletariat be decided in the settler-colonial white Australian nation itself. Any empty syndicalism which fails to recognise this will, despite pretensions to Marxism, be little more than petty, short-sighted trade union consciousness whose central demand will be the ‘rightful’ share of the privileges, the good fortune, denied to the others!

However, we must also be critical of this EP’s shortcomings. If we really believe, and if Rolling Blackouts C.F. really believe, that unity in struggle of the revolutionary proletariat is hampered by the selfish, blind, and shortsighted arrogance of white Australia, then we must point out that this is no less true of the struggle of women and feminists, and yet the gender politics on display on the French Press EP are at best the bland tropes one has come to expect from white boy rock of this sort.

In conclusion, we ask that Rolling Blackouts C.F. will give a fitting self-criticism for the filler songs about predictable gender roles in cishet relationships, and release some songs about the sort of gender politics Worker’s Spatula approve of, such as queer liberation, sex negativity, or matriarchal harems in which men’s bodies [plural] are owned and controlled by a woman [singular].

Jingle jangle, I’m a guitar, mate.

 

Best songs: “French Press”, “Fountain of Good Fortune”

Worst song: “Piano Man” by Billy Joel

Humourless Marxist Reviews: Star Wars: The Last Jedi

LastJedi

CW: Spoilers, accusations of “narodnism”

In a brazen cash grab following the massive success of the third and final installment in the Star Wars trilogy, George Lucas has seen fit to produce a sequel entitled “The Last Jedi”. Rumours already abound that this may be the beginning of a new sequel trilogy (which, since the entire thing takes place “a long time ago”, is more properly termed a “prequel”).

Due to overwhelming demand, Worker’s Spatula have dispatched their finest EMEP-affiliated film critics to determine the political character of this new War in the Star.

We are sad to report that contrary to the rumours, this film is not Marxist-Leninist propaganda, which frankly is the least you can ask from your science fiction. Progressive? Perhaps, but with grave organisational shortcomings that, among Marxist-Leninists such as ourselves, we should not shy away from criticising.

Are the forces of the New Order arch-reactionaries, imperialists, and fascists? Without any doubt. Is the struggle of the Resistance against them right? It is right, and the audience is right to identify with it. But can we avoid mentioning the scene where a distress signal was sent out, and no one answered Leia’s call? Should this not have been a sign to our heroes that they had been outmanoeuvred by the enemy? Read the Art of War, Leia.

But Leia’s mistakes as commander are not limited to particular moments of miscalculation or desperation: the general lack of training and discipline is apparent from the reckless decisions her individual troops take. Whether it’s Finn or Joe Pomeranian, the men of the Resistance get to pose themselves as heroes by carrying out great acts of revenge on their foe, but only by continuously taking adventurist risks that are responsible for great losses for their own organisation! No rigorous process of criticism and self-criticism greets these wayward comrades, merely verbal warnings and demotions. How long is the Resistance to last if it takes such a laissez-faire attitude towards discipline, training, and tactics?

Even the women of the resistance, who are notably more sober-minded, have yet to articulate a coherent overall strategy. Nowhere in the film is the overall tactical line of the Resistance mentioned, instead we are treated to Mao Zedong’s quote that “a single spark can start a prairie fire”, repeated over and over again by all the main characters in unison as they stare into the camera for a period of twenty minutes. Maddening.

Rey O’Light travels to the Dagoba system to meet with Luke Skywalker, who obviously represents Enver Hoxha, and stays with him in a mountain bunker where they condemn the failings of the Jedi Council, a clear stand-in for the Soviet Union, in brutally critical terms befitting the post-Cold War reality that we as Marxist-Leninist revolutionaries face. This was the only good scene, and even it was ruined by the rampant idealism we already mentioned in our first review.

But then even she, the supposedly most theoretically advanced figure in the Resistance, doesn’t listen to Enver Skywalker and runs off to face Darth What’s-His-Name in the Death Star or whatever, and kills Emperor Palpatine with him, only so that a new ruling clique led by Darth Who’s-It can emerge! Stop trying to abolish things without abolishing the conditions that led to those things! Anarchism! Narodnism! Adventurism! Wookieism!

All of these critiques are not to say that we do not fully defend the role the Resistance is playing. But the very dangerous objective conditions which these political subjects face require that we soberly take account of the facts. The Resistance can win its space war, and it can win by recognising the leading role of the space proletariat, and engaging in a diversity of space tactics to align all the progressive space forces against the space class enemies whose space exploitation and space oppression are the actual material basis for Captain McBadguy or Darth Kyle or whatever his name is.

The film, to its credit, actually spends a great deal of time portraying the sympathy of the working class to the Resistance, and if our narodnik heroes can unite their military manoeuvres with the organic trends of the proletariat, we are confident that socialism can be achieved in one more film, without having to sit through a half-dozen more of these.

Please George Lucas, stop sending these brave young people on suicide missions. Don’t be DHKP/C. These are human beings whose lives are being thrown out in a galaxy far, far away thanks to your adventurism. Orient the Resistance line towards the proletariat now. Do it for your old friends at the Spatula.

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Humourless Marxist Reviews: Confederate

Confederate

Knowing Worker’s Spatula’s popularity among the rebel youth and our passion for the subject, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, the duo better known as HBO, have invited several Worker’s Spatula writers to a special screening of the pilot episode of their new documentary series, Confederate.

Confederate tells the story of how the US, as a major imperialist state, has somehow managed to preserve slavery as a major pillar of its domestic economy well into the 21st century. The series’s pilot episode begins with a narrator explaining the history of the Republican Party, which began as a bourgeois revolutionary institution bent on overturning slavery. However, the party’s reliance on the imperialist bourgeoisie engaged in settler-colonial conquest of North America meant that the Afro-American masses and the radical left of the party were betrayed to the very southern slave-owning aristocracy the party set out to overturn in the first place.

The narrator is then revealed to be an Afro-American political prisoner in a forced labour camp, explaining this history to his fellow prisoners as he finishes his sub-par meal in a crowded cafeteria.

The pilot unflinchingly portrays the trials and tribulations of modern-day slaves in the United States today, through vignettes of their everyday lives, including painfully rare and short breaks for family, violent confrontations with labour camp guards, and struggles with mental health issues. If the pilot is anything to go by, this series will be extremely uncomfortable, but necessary, viewing for US audiences.

Creators David Benioff and D.B. Weiss hinted at big plans for on-screen depictions of relevant historical and social issues in the future during the question and answer session with the Worker’s Spatula team, including an alternate history drama in which Hitler had been born in the Americas and committed genocide against indigenous peoples of the continent, and a drama about a dystopian future in which fascists and socialists are frequently depicted as part of one common ideology known as “totalitarianism”.

Did you enjoy this piece, or anything else on Worker’s Spatula? Then consider donating as little as one imperialist Yankee dollar a month to supporting our work!

Do you want to help an actual liberation movement for slave descendents in the imperialist United States that understands and struggles against the economic basis of US imperialism in the belly of the beast? Then support Cooperation Jackson!

Humourless Marxist Reviews: Band Aid

BandAid

“Band Aid” is actor Zoe Lister-Jones’s first foray into directing, and a bold foray it was. Not only did she manage to pull off the twin duties of actor and director with significant skill for a first timer, but she did so with an all-woman crew, a choice which makes perfect sense when one considers that Band Aid is a dramatic retelling of the story of Yenigün Müzik Topluluğu, the “women’s choir” Turkish musical group best known for writing songs about 1990s MLKP martyrs.

Set in the United States, this dramatic retelling imagines what it would be like if the Istanbul-based group had been formed in California. And somehow it works! Despite lacking the obvious context of Gazi Mahallesi, watching Lister-Jones’s depiction of dozens of young people raise their fists to martyr songs brought a tear to the eyes of everyone in the audience at our special and exclusive Worker’s Spatula screening of the director’s cut of the film.

Watching “Band Aid” was a unique glimpse into the personal experiences of the women who would go on to sing songs of the struggle within Yenigün Müzik Topluluğu. The role of women in all parts of struggle, the role of arts in morale and healing, the motivation to carry on against all odds in the memory of the lost children whose laughter will be our revenge, truly this is a film that can make even the most foreign leftist feel right at home in this story of Turkish militants. It is astonishing how Lister-Jones is able to tie in music and everyday struggle so masterfully, to the point where the escalation of violence in concert with progressively more melancholy music feels the only natural choice for the audience.

*SPOILER ALERT*

Truly nothing can match the feeling of revolutionary determination one feels together with Lister-Jones’s character in the final scene where she approaches George Zimmerman, to avenge Trayvon Martin’s death by detonating the bomb strapped to her own body. Right at the moment of the detonation, the screen goes black and the soundtrack is silent, and you can hear the people on each side of you breathing, before “Yasemin” starts playing.

Hardcore stuff.

Speaking of bodies and “hardcore”, though, it was a bit unfair that we didn’t get to see Adam Pally’s erect penis during the nude scenes. What gives, Zoe?

Humourless Marxist Reviews: Kedi

kedi

My name is Ceyda Torun, the director of the Turkish documentary film about cats, “Kedi”. Had I known that producing this film would result in my imprisonment, I very likely would not have made it. But what’s done is done, and now I have to live with the consequences.

I continue to encourage everyone to see my film, proceeds from which will go to my legal fund. In the meantime, I am writing this review of my own film in the hope that it may aid in my defence.

The claim which the AKP regime has made is that my cat documentary is “propaganda for a terrorist organisation”. While this claim might appear bizarre, this is actually quite difficult to refute in the Turkish context, as a clear precedent has been set that everything good and hopeful and joyful in Turkey is in fact “propaganda for a terrorist organisation”, and accordingly punishable by imprisonment.

Therefore, I have no recourse but to resort to post-structuralism.

Erdoğan would concede that terrorist propaganda does not become such through the act of writing, but through the act of reading. It is by the intervention of the reader (the reader in question of course being Erdoğan) that terrorist propaganda emerges as such. But what Erdoğan doesn’t realise is that this understanding of textuality is derived from the writings of famous Frenchman and non-Muslim Jacques Derrida.

The French, for their part, have long been aware of Erdoğan’s post-structuralism. The fact that Erdoğan is ignorant of his own post-structuralism might appear at first glance to be a major obstacle to using post-structuralism to free myself from prison. But this would be an ignorant structuralist error: In the false binary between scholars of French philosophy and non-scholars of French philosophy, we must privilege the non-scholars before we can arrive at the truth beyond this oppressive binary, the truth being something vaguely Fichtean.

I can understand why Erdoğan would see in my film many signifiers which indicate HDP-like values that are of course terroristic to articulate. The film contains women talking about their alienation in patriarchal society, workers being humanised and allowed to speak, and most horrifyingly of all, the implication that massive construction projects are not necessarily improving İstanbul.

I can certainly see why the authorities would view any film which depicts the social life and values of İstanbul society as being predicated upon concern for the well-being of others instead of the profit motive as dangerous communistic propaganda, an obvious recruitment ploy by the HDP and their various subversive affiliates.

If I were in Erdoğan’s shoes, I would certainly ban this film, arrest its director, and probably kill several dozen cats just for good measure.

But meanings shift, and signifiers are ultimately meaningless. While it is a well known fact that cats are a symbol of Devrimci Karargâh (who recently united with DKP), they are also a symbol of the famous dancer Adnan Oktar. The same signifier can signify multiple, contradictory things. And while clearly it is up to the viewer, and more specifically Erdoğan, to determine the meaning of my film in the context of the layers of meaning that led up to my film, it is also the case that if Erdoğan rewatches my film, he will be able to overcome the subversive elements which he thought were so essential on first viewing. In a new context, my film may be about something entirely different.

Consider the theological motif in the film. What could be more wholesome than ordinary İstanbullular discussing the piety of cats, a species known to have been beloved by the Prophet Muhammad (SAW)? We even had a fisherman who used the word “kâfir”! Viewed in a particular context, my film could practically be an advertisement for the Türk-İslam sentezi for YouTube cat video-addicted gâvurlar!

While I understand the offence caused by having a film in which women wear dreadlocks or laugh in public must have been great for our president, I hope that he of all people understands that interpretation of my film, like anything else, is continuously deferred, and that perhaps now might be an appropriate time to focus on its more theological themes and let me out of jail?

Our president is the most committed to différance of any in the world. Praised for his piety and constantly to be heard referencing God, he does so with the full knowledge that even this supposed transcendental signifier is in a constant state of flux, and may be interpreted however the AKP needs it to be. I too am willing to opportunistically use religion for my own personal ends, in this case, being allowed out of the prison that I, like thousands of others in Turkey today, was so hastily thrown into.

In conclusion, I wish to assure readers, particularly the judge who holds my fate in their hands, that my film “Kedi” is not communist propaganda.

I mean, come on, nobody even speaks Kurdish in it.

Humourless Marxist Reviews: La La Land

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La La Land is a film about two bourgeois artists seeking apolitical success in the landscape of the post-2008 global financial crisis Los Angeles, and their oppressor nation heterosexual romance, and also there is some song and dance.

You would think Worker’s Spatula, a brutally honest Marxist-Leninist news source which starts every conversation about US politics with a statement about the centrality of national liberation movements against such parasitic class and national elements, would have no time for such flights of bourgeois fancy. You would think we wouldn’t like this film.

But you would be motherfucking wrong, comrade. Because Ryan Gosling is a Grade A dialectician, and has only acted in films which are in some sense designed to teach the masses about dialectics, ever since our people got the script for Half Nelson to his agent all those years ago.

Gosling, a real Hegelian, realer than that fraud Žižek for sure, only accepted this script because his character got to talk about jazz in a way that is but a transparent veneer for his real intended message, that things are always in motion, always changing, guided by internal processes which we characterise as “contradictions”. Gosling, a proper Marxist, only accepted the script because his character’s attack on the “samba-tapas” restaurant was clearly intended to explain the inevitability of the commodification of all things under capitalism.

Gosling, a philosopher king, would never act in a film, bourgeois or otherwise, that didn’t include such a magnificently dialectical conclusion as the final scene of La La Land, which we encourage you all to pirate and watch with your Hegel reading groups.

Apart from the unavoidable critique of its lack of overt themes of national liberation and class struggle in the largest city in Aztlán, and of course its lack of a groundbreaking approach to gender politics onscreen, our only substantial criticism of this film, extremely entertaining and dialectical for a Hollywood production, is that we did not even for one moment get to glimpse Ryan Gosling’s bumhole.

This particular factor was not only disappointing because the audience wants to see Ryan Gosling’s bumhole. It was disappointing because the audience needs to see Ryan Gosling’s bumhole. This unfulfilled longing haunts the viewer from the moment Gosling’s face is first shown onscreen until the credits are rolled.

Gosling’s bumhole could have been worked into the film any number of ways. It could’ve been snuck in during the credits, like the penis at the end of Fight Club, for which our team of reviewers waited anxiously after everyone else had left the cinema. It could’ve been worked in during Gosling’s predictable onscreen relationship with Emma Stone, with the latter prying it open with her fingers.

More daringly, perhaps Gosling’s bumhole could’ve been featured in an act of homosexual penetration. Or even more daringly, perhaps we could’ve simply been treated to a shot of Gosling defecating with a camera in the toilet, as his bumhole opened up to let out his excrement.

None of these options were apparently seriously considered by the studio, or if they were, they were foolishly prevented from finding their way into the final cut. More than the whitewashing of gender, national, or class relations in Los Angeles, this choice speaks to the disgusting lack of bravery on the part of director Damien Chazelle. Shame on you, Damien Chazelle. Shame on you.

Perhaps even this glaring oversight could be ignored if there had been a shot of Gosling’s urethra, or perhaps simply some close-up shots of his skin pores opening and closing, but alas, even this is too much to ask from the bourgeois hacks who waste Gosling’s amazing talents in the hollow pursuit of profits.

I hate Damien Chazelle and everything he stands for. I hope he gets hit by a bus. No matter how much I and the rest of the team enjoyed La La Land, nothing can fill in the hole left by the absence of Gosling’s hole in that film. Even a written apology clearly stained with Chazelle’s tears and with several photographs or even video footage of Gosling’s anus attached cannot make up for this slight, nay, this affront against art.

Go fuck yourself, Damien Chazelle.

Good film otherwise though.