According to Govindini Murty, co-organizer of the Liberty Film Festival, Michael Medved has been a tremendous supporter of her and her husband Jason Apuzzo—both as filmmakers and in their efforts to put together a kick-ass film festival that celebrated the free market, the open exchange of ideas, democracy, and the United States as a force for good.

Mr. Medved flew down to Los Angeles from Seattle yesterday and spent a good chunk of the day at the festival, both participating in a panel and providing a special introduction to their presentation of The Ten Commandments. He was extraordinarily generous with his time and energy.

As most of you know, Medved is nearly unique among conservative voices, in that he recognizes the importance of film as a medium and has an encyclopedic knowledge of movies. He was one of the forces behind the Golden Turkey Awards series (which helped to popularize Ed Wood's Plan 9 From Outer Space as a cult classic), and is the author of Hollywood vs. America, a dissection of the ways in which filmmakers systematically flout the values and beliefs of mainstream America.

And he frequently articulates—as he did last week on his radio show—the fact that beauty and truth, contra Keats, are not the same thing, and we can appreciate a beautifully made movie while recognizing that the values that inspired it—or the message it delivers—are misguided (and, in some cases, horrific).

Attila Girl: Do you see conservative and libertarian filmmakers creating an alternative power structure within the entertainment industry to market our own work?

Michael Medved: To some degree, though [such a structure] won't become the dominant force. You're not going to see Hollywood become a conservative bastion; that just will not happen.

But change will come as it did with the other Evil Empire: as a response to pressure from without.

Attila Girl: Do you envision a sea change occurring with events like this and the American Film Renaissance Festival in Dallas?

Michael Medved: Yes; the great thing is that people are finally tackling this issue. When you think about the forces of conservatism over the past few decades, people like William F. Buckley—despite their contributions to public debate—were mostly detached from popular culture, and that's now starting to change.

Attila Girl: Do you see us as ever reaching something close to parity within the film industry: say, 40%-60% in their favor?

Michael Medved: Maybe more like 30%-70%. I'll tell you, the one place where I do think we'll see 40%-60% is within the Jewish community. You saw that in our panel earlier, where we had participation from people like David Zucker.

Attila Girl: Almost half of you were Jewish, right?

Michael Medved: A few of us were. I've been very active within the Jewish Republican Coalition, and this election year we're seeing a real change, one that began after 9/11 and has gotten stronger.

Attila Girl: People have had enough?

Michael Medved: Yes. They have.

Note:The exchange above is not quite word-for-word, but pretty darned close. After getting that precious three-minute interview, I discovered that the battery on my tape recorder had given out, so I quickly jotted down the whole conversation from my memory, which is pretty good for this type of thing—though bad on where I put my keys.

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My husband and I convoyed to the Liberty Film Festival today. He was going early and leaving early, and I was going late—and knew I might stay late.

So he saw the first two films, which looked fascinating: Borrowed Fire, by Salil Singh, and Relentless: The Struggle for Peace in the Middle East. I felt bad about my late arrival, but I 1) overslept; 2) had to water the plants, which were languishing after days of neglect; 3) had to make some turkey sandwiches we could sneak into the theater for lunch; 4) was blinded by the sun, and overwhelmed by four opponents; 5) had my homework consumed by the house canine; and/or 6) thought it was the thing to do at the time.

I got there in time for Brainwashing 101, which was a rough/partial cut of Evan Maloney's expose on political bias in academia. Maloney and his equally brilliant cohorts have started a website that keeps students abreast of political correctness and other evidence of bias, and actively solicits their contributions for the feature form of the movie. It's a clever idea, actually.

One of the things that helps Maloney is that he is not a fire-breathing wingnut; he's a reasonable guy who just wants to see a little more dialogue, a little more rationality in the public debate. In other words, one senses he'd be interested in the excesses of the right, if he had the feeling they were being shoved down commoners' throats.

A panel discussion followed regarding the "new Hollywood blacklist," and this event included David Zucker, Michael Medved, Doug Urbanski, Morgan Brittany, Andrew Breitbart and Dan Gifford. The colorful-if-unrestrained Jim Hirsen (Tales from the Left Coast) moderated. The discussion included a mini-debate about whether the right-oriented media "lock out" dissenting views (e.g., should Waco: Rules of Engagement have attained more notice on talk radio?) and the issue of whether libertarian/conservative/WOT-supporting flimmakers should attempt to climb up within the existing industry structure, or build a parallel system that would allow them to bypass the "filtering" function of studio executives (who are often some of the, um, most limited people on the planet).

The only concensus appeared to be on the idea that the current "blacklist" is not one of names, but rather one of philosophy and ideas.

The surprise of the evening was Michael Moore Hates America, which was badly named. Director Mike Wilson picked a provocative title, and one that reflected his anger at a fellow midwesterner who appeared to slam his homeland, but the finished movie is a shockingly balanced look at Moore's work. It's also a meditative piece on Wildon's own life and history, and whether it's possible to tell the truth entirely when filming a documentary. Penn Jilette of Penn & Teller appears as the sort of angel who exhorts Wilson to tell the truth, no matter what, and not let the ends justify the means. (The carrot appears to be Wilson's desire not to turn into Michael Moore himself; the stick is Jilette's exhortation at the end not to distort his own views, or "I'll hunt you down and kill you.")

It's a beautiful film, but just the opposite of what you expect from hearing the title.

After this, my husband had to get home to conquer a few deadlines. I walked him most of the way to his car and got back to the theater just as they were dimming the lights.

This was for Impact: The Passion of the Christ, which discussed Passion, but also the effect it had on people worldwide. The documentary's stance is aggressively Christian. It was an affecting movie, but I think I prefer filmmakers who work in more shades of gray. Still, it was solid and informative: it visits the debate over anti-Semitism while also sharing stories of religious revival and the redemption of people's lives. If you're looking for a frankly joyful celebration of Christianity, this is your cup of latte. If not, there's still plenty of information in it.

There was a short break, during which I stalked Michael Medved in the lobby until he gallantly agreed to a two-minute interview just before he was due on stage. The evening ended with a showing of The Ten Commandments, which was introduced by Medved and included a short statement by Lisa Mitchell, who played one of Jethro's daughters and had a few words about how Cecil B. DeMille changed her life and her political philosophy.

I confess I tended to view the movie as a civil rights movie rather than a Cold War parable, but I see that it works as either. And though people were tired, they still clapped whenever Heston needed to stand tall and lay down the law.

I know everyone's going to get mad at me, but The Ten Commandments also works as soft-core porn: you end up seeing a fair amount of the young Heston's body, and a non-trivial amount of Yul Brynner skin. This worked fine as well.

More later. I'll be starting to post those interviews tomorrow; in the meantime it'll take me all week to get onto a non-vampiric sleep schedule. If, in fact, that happens at all.

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Wow. Long day at the Liberty Film Festival. I went out there on three hours worth of sleep, so I had a secret plan to nap in the back seat of my husband's car at some point in the afternoon. (And I implemented same.)

The high points today were 1) Larry Elder's Michael and Me; and 2) the fact that I bagged two interviews, including a mini-interview with Mrs. Viola Elder, Larry's mother (known to all listeners as "the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court"), and a nice sit-down with Evan Maloney, the genius behind Brain-Terminal, a combination weblog and outlet for Evan's guerilla videos. Most of these shorts document the amazing stuff that passes for "thought" among the moonbats who go to anti-war protests. Today at the film festival we saw Peace Out, which is a classic moonbat overview.

We also saw the Protest Warrior short film Eagle Strike, which shows some of the great signs these people take to their local LLL gatherings, and lets us know that things do sometimes get ugly with these counter-protests.

Then there was a cute documentary called Is It True What They Say About Ann?, in which Elinor Burkett and Patrick Wright spend a few days with Ann Coulter. It was fun to watch even though my jury has been out on that woman for years.

Then it was lunch, and after that my husband walked me to his car. I got into the back seat, locked myself in, and checked out for two and a half hours, waking up in time to meet up with him before the Big Featured Indie Film, Terminal Island, made by Jason Apuzzo and Govindini Murty, the couple who put the film festival together.

And then there was Michael and Me, Larry Elder's response to Bowling in Columbine. Here, Larry lays out a comprehensive case for firearms ownership among ordinary people who are ready to handle that responsibility. Larry got around four standing ovations, so I guess people liked the movie. And it's already changing minds: the distributor sent three Democratic, liberal young women who supported gun control to evaluate the film. The next morning, they were in his office talking about how to buy guns and get trained with them. Overhearing, he asked them "why?"
"Larry Elder's movie," came the response. Naturally, he got Larry on the phone and wanted to deal.

We blew off the final tribute to Ronald Reagan (a screening of Desperate Journey), and headed home. We'll get that one on DVD and watch it with popcorn on our laps sometime this month.

I'll have more detailed reviews for you, either tomorrow or Monday. And I'll transcribe my interviews, too. But tonight I need to go to bed earlier. One more early call, tomorrow. And I'm tired.

Tomorrow's highlight, as you know, will be Michael Moore Hates America, at 2:00. That'll be great. There's also a documentary on the impact The Passion of the Christ is having, both in the industry and around the world.

Sunday ends with a screening of The Ten Commandments, with Chuck Heston. But we may leave by then, and (once more) simply owe ourselves another peek at an old classic.

Be safe and make sure the dialogue on your indie production just crackles.

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What an amazing experience. The first night of the Liberty Film Festival was terrific, and showcased two veteran conservative filmakers and two newer voices.

One has to describe the evening in reverse order, I think, and start with Lionel Chetwynd, who has been laboring in the vineyards since the mid-70s. His credits include Hanoi Hilton, which he directed and wrote, as well as Ruby Ridge: An American Tragedy, and DC 9/11: Time of Crisis (he also produced this one). Most recently he wrote Ike: Countdown to D-Day, which starred Tom Selleck (and also gave Chetwynd a producer credit). In short, he's the most successful writer/director/producer on the right side of Hollywood today.

This project was different, though. He was asked by Citizens United to create something that would serve as a response to Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11, and counter the lies and distortions therein. And he and his team put this amazing documentary, Celsius 41.11, together in a matter of six weeks. It's an astonishing achievement.

The house was packed for this segment (it had only been 3/4 full for the first "event," as they are calling the sections), and Chetwynd got a standing O at the end. He and his colleagues on the film answered questions, and it's a testament to the film's power that a lot of people were simply concerned with seeing this film get wider distribution. They are attempting to get a theatrical release going in the next few days—probably bypassing the distribution companies—and therefore if you have any spare cash in your pocket you might want to send it to Citizens United, which is doing excellent work. Celsius 41.11 does two things: it counters the common misconceptions about George W. Bush with factual material, and it discusses John Kerry's background in terms of how his philosophies may conflict with the duties of a wartime President. What it doesn't do is call him a traitor or tarnish his patriotism. ("If you are here looking for red meat," Chetwynd warned, "you're in the wrong place." People liked it fine, though, and they understood that its intent was not to "preach to the choir.")

In the Face of Evil was also a documentary, but it was a longer, more thoughtful, and really meditative piece on the struggle between good and evil in the last century and the miracle of Ronald Reagan's life and victories. Steve Bannon draws a straight line between totalitarian communism and naziism, which I buy, and between those two and Islamo-Fascism, which I'm not as certain about. But he certainly chronicles the Third World War (the Cold War) and discusses how Reagan won it. The film ends with the start of the Fourth World War (the one we are in now), and essentially leaves us with the question of whether we will face the challenges of this century as well as men like Churchill, FDR and Reagan faced those of the last. There are images from World War I, and a lovely history of Reagan's film career is included—without glossing over how his showdown with union thugs during "the battle of Burbank" informed his feelings about Communists for the rest of his life.

The evening wouldn't have been complete without the charming shorts that showcased the talents of a few bright young—and funny—indie filmmakers. Greg Wolfe's company, Career Suicide Productions, gave us Greg Wolfe: Republican Jew, which is discussed here. And Evan Maloney, the prolific young guy behind Brain-Terminal.com, had a hilarious take on The Clinton Legacy. (The link will take you to the Clinton mini-doc, but there are scads more on Brain-Terminal.com. Browse around.)

And now, it's time for bed. More tomorrow, which is the big day (it'll culminate with the world premiere of Larry Elder's first foray into film, an answer to He Who Must Not Be Named's Bowling for Columbine). Can't wait.

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A movie review by guest-blogger Mikal.

A funny, sad, and revealing documentary about Rodney Bingenheimer, a KROQ deejay and LA rock scenester for nearly forty years. Directed by the same guy who worked on Hearts of Darkness, Mayor follows Rodney's life as a sort of superannuated male groupie who's been able not only to insinuate himself with rock royalty from the mid-60s, but to break new acts as a club owner and DJ . . . and yet has virtually nothing to show for his being the first American champion of everyone from David Bowie, to the Ramones, to Oasis. Period clips show Rodney popping up, Zelig-like, in virtually every rock 'n' roll turning point since 1965; one especially interesting piece is a tape recording of him attempting to direct-dial President Kennedy in 1963—speaking with the same halting, wheezy voice as a Mountain View-raised teen that he still sports forty years later.

Rodney comes off onscreen much as he does on the radio. Physically, he's a diminutive, elfin, middle-aged teenager who still sports the same hairdo and clothes ensemble he's had since the late-70s punk/new-wave era. Personally, he's a not-too-bright, unpretentious, likable, good-hearted naif who loves rock 'n' roll, and is only intermittently aware of how much potential success, personal growth and maturity he's sacrificed to the music . . . not as a performer or promoter, but as a mere fan, albeit one who gets to party with his heroes, and occasionally have them shoot him some credit or paid work. He's too kindhearted and courteous to openly badmouth the many people who've exploited him, although the camera does catch one scene where he angrily confronts a prodigy who's returned his kindness by setting up a competing, nearly-identical radio program.

There are plenty of interviews with famous folks who owe their careers to the man, and/or who've tried to help him in return. The standouts are a backstage meeting between Rodney and David Bowie (whom Rodney broke in the USA), and a guest visit on Bingenheimer's KROQ show by the brain-damaged, brilliant Beach Boy Brian Wilson. Fellow scenester, would-be-impresario and uber-asshole Kim Fowley contributes some hilarious observations as well; my favorite is when he answers ex-Runaway Cherie Currie's accusations of past sexual misdeeds with a stinging, self-deprecating riposte.

Watching Mayor of the Sunset Strip brought back memories of listening to Rodney on KROQ on Sunday nights in the late 70s and early 80s. I remember that his show immediately followed Dr. Demento's revue of self-consciously clever novelty records; I was a regular listener. Eventually Rodney's world of punk rock and Sunset-Strip scenesterism proved to be far more fun and refreshing than Demento's retread geekfest, and I joined the burgeoning punk/New-Wave scene.

In other worlds, and more generally, Rodney Bingenheimer saved me from becoming a nerd. Had I—a rather shy music-lover much like Mr. B—not immersed myself in the late-70s L.A. underground, I could very easily have retreated into the dork-world epitomized by Demento and his fans, and spent my college years onward as a Dungeons-and-Dragons-playing, compulsively-punning, socially-illiterate geek. Much of what's been good, interesting, stimulating and just plain fun in my life from 1977 onward can be directly traced to the influence of this funny little guy and his ability to transmit a kind of L.A. rock-n-roll gestalt to both the famous and the fans.

Put me down as yet another individual the Mayor of the Sunset Strip helped, who's only now getting around to giving him his propers.

Mikal is a Bay Area writer and book merchant. As an author, he specializes in the paranormal and the odd; he is most famous for the book Mysterious California: Strange Places and Eerie Phenomena in the Golden State, which is out of print but available here and there. He assures us he's at work on something even wilder.

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