No such thing as an anti-war film, or anti-anything at all

There is no such thing as an anti-war film, François Truffaut is reported to have said. In a manner of speaking, there is no such thing as an anti-anything film, at least so long as the subject in question is depicted visually.

The reason is simple. The medium of film makes whatever is on screen appealing to look at—more than that, to sink into, to be seduced by, to be drawn into. Moving images lull the mind and woo the heart.

Moreover, anything that is worth opposing in a film contains some element of goodness or truth or beauty. The wager or argument of the filmmaker is not that the subject matter is wholly evil; rather, it is that it is something worthwhile that has been corrupted, distorted, or disordered: by excess, by wicked motives, by tragic consequences. Which means that whatever is depicted in the film is not Evil Writ Large, Only Now On Screen. It is something lovely or valuable—something ordinary people "fall for" in the real world—except portrayed in such a way as to try to show the harm or problems attending it.

Unfortunately, the form of film itself works against the purposes of an "anti film," since the nature of the form habituates an audience to identify with and even love what is on screen. Why? First, because motion pictures are in motion, that is, they take time. Minute 30 is different than minute 90. Even if minute 90 "makes the point" (whether subtly or didactically), minutes 1 through 89 might embody the opposite point, and perhaps far more powerfully.

Second, cinematic form is usually narrative in character. That means protagonists and plot. That means point of view, perspective. That means viewers inevitably side with, line up with, a particular perspective or protagonist. And when that happens, sympathies soften whatever critique the filmmaker wants to communicate; the "bad fan" effect generates a shared instinct to cheer on the lead, however Illustratively Bad or even an Unqualified Antihero he may be. If only Skyler wouldn't get in Walter's way, you know?

Third, the temporal and narrative shape of film means that endings mean everything and nothing. Everything, because like all stories they bring to a head and give retroactive meaning to all that came before. Nothing, because what many people remember most is the experience of the journey getting there. And if the journey is 99% revelry in Said Bad Thing, even if the final 1% is denunciation thereof, what people will remember and continue returning for is the 99%. And that's just not something you can control, no matter how blunt you're willing to be in the film's flashing-neon messaging.

That, in short, is why there are no "anti" films, only failed attempts at them.

No anti-war films: only films that glorify the spectacle and heroes of warfare.

No anti-gangster films: only films that glorify the thrills of organized crime.

No anti-luxury films: only films that glorify the egregious excesses of the 1%.

No anti-western films: only films that glorify the cowboy, the vigilante, and lawless violence.

No anti-ultraviolence films: only films that glorify the wild anarchy of the uncontrolled and truly free.

No anti-misogynist films: only films that glorify the untamed libido and undomesticated talk of the charming but immature adolescent or bachelor.

And finally, no films subversive of the exploitation and sexualization of young girls: only films that glorify the same. To depict that evil, in this medium, in a way that captures faithfully the essence of the evil, is little more than reproducing the evil by other means, in another form. However artful, however sophisticated, however well-intended, it is bound for failure—a failure, I hasten to add, for which the filmmakers in question are entirely culpable.