I asked a school teacher of my acquaintance, a benighted liberal who is an infallible barometer of the latest currents of political correctness, why this was happening. I was answered with another question: “If you were Jewish, wouldn’t you feel offended if someone wished you a Merry Christmas?” The tone communicated that this was self-evident, that we must avoid giving such offense at all costs, and that I was stupid for even asking. Obviously she had spent too much time talking down to students.

I thought to myself, “I would not be offended if a Jew wished me a Happy Hanukkah. That would be small-minded. So why should a Jew be offended if I wished him a Merry Christmas? What makes Jews different? Why do people cater to such small-mindedness?”

I also thought to myself, “Wouldn’t a pluralistic, liberal attitude imply many different holiday greetings, rather than one bland, characterless, homogeneous one?”

I also began to notice the proliferation of the abbreviation “X-mas,” even in greetings cards, store displays, and advertisements. Abbreviations are perfectly OK in hand-scrawled notes and emails. But they are gauche in more formal contexts, so I wondered what was driving this lapse in taste and style. Why are people literally “X”ing “Christ” out of “Christmas”? Is it merely another symptom of the secularization and commercialization of Christmas? But who is behind that trend? And is there some anti-Christian malice at work here?

Recently, there has been a proliferation of news stories about the destruction of Christmas in England and the US to cater to the tastes of anti-Christian minorities. For instance, in 2002 in Mobile, Alabama, the annual Christmas parade, celebrated since 1945, was to be renamed “The Jolly Holiday” parade. According to the organizers, “They said they wanted a name that was more inclusive, since the parade this year would include Hanukkah and Kwanzaa floats along with the usual Christmas fair [sic].”

Are we losing Christmas to pander to celebrators of Kwanzaa? The answer is no.

Kwanzaa is the ersatz African holiday invented in 1966 by an American Negro who goes by the name of Maulana Ron Karenga. Kwanzaa is supposed to be a Negro alternative to Christmas. It is a seven-day feast, celebrated from December 26 to January 1. Each day of Kwanzaa commemorates a different concept: unity (not diversity; unity is for them, diversity for us), self-determination, collective work and responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity and faith.

Up to this point, most people will give Kwanzaa a respectful hearing. But wait: To commemorate each day of Kwanzaa, a candle is lit in a seven-branch candelabrum called the “Kinara.” Now “Kinara” is supposed to sound like “Menorah,” but with a “k” for Kwanzaa. Get it? (I know, you thought that the Kinara was a rank in the Ku Klux Klan, somewhere between the Kleagle and the Klegrapp.) The Kinara reveals just how infantile, contrived, and derivative Kwanzaa really is. Even the most patronizing liberals roll their eyes.

But stupidity is no bar to advancement in today’s America, so Kwanzaa is slowly on the rise. In 1997 the US Post Office released a Kwanzaa stamp. Merchandisers see the potential for Kwanzaa profits, and so do politicians. Bill Clinton began issuing annual Kwanzaa proclamations, a practice continued by our conservative president George W. Bush.

But Kwanzaa is not destroying Christmas. Most Americans still have never heard of it, and no White American can think of it without embarrassment. Even White liberals probably prefer not to think of it at all, so it is not likely to be in the back of their minds when they wish you a hearty “Happy Holidays!” Besides, most Blacks who celebrate Kwanzaa probably celebrate Christmas too, so it is unlikely that they would bristle to the defense of Kwanzaa if wished a “Merry Christmas!”

No, it is the Jews who stole Christmas. Kwanzaa merely apes Hanukkah. Hanukkah is a minor Jewish holiday that celebrates, like most Jewish holidays, the massacre of tribal enemies. It is primarily in the US that Hanukkah has been promoted as a Jewish rival to Christmas.

The motives for this are unclear. One may be crypsis, the desire of some Jews to blend in among their host populations. Crypsis is certainly a motive in Reform Judaism. Reform synagogues have even adopted stained-glass windows and organ music to give the impression that Judaism is just another “Judeo-Christian” denomination.

Another motive may be rivalry: Jews recognize the appeal of Christmas, and want to keep their children busy doing something else during the Christmas season.

Malice probably also plays a role.

First, there is the resentment of the eternal outsider trying to make himself feel comfortable by breaking down the distinction between inside and outside. To do this, he has to efface the host culture’s defining symbols. A Jew feels outside when you say “Merry Christmas,” but he feels comfortable when you say “Happy Holidays.” Indeed, he feels pleased with this concrete token of his cultural and political power.

Then there is the particular resentment that Jews nurse toward Christianity. There are at least three reasons for this. First, Jesus was an apostate Jew, and nobody likes an apostate. Second, Jesus rejected Judaism for its tribalism, inhumanity, and intellectual dishonesty, and the truth hurts, so Jews hate Jesus as a bearer of bad news. Third, although today Islam is the religion most resistant to Jews and Christianity the most embarrassingly apologetic and subservient, this has been the case primarily since the foundation of the state of Israel. Before that, Jews lived securely in Muslim lands while they were being expelled from virtually every Christian country in Europe. Chapter 5 of Israel Shahak’s Jewish History, Jewish Religion: The Weight of Three Thousand Years contains an eye-opening discussion of Jewish attitudes toward non-Jews, including a comparison of Jewish attitudes towards Christians and Muslims.

Jew Philip Roth is the author of dreadful novels that are nonetheless extremely revealing of the operations of the Jewish mind. In Operation Shylock: A Confession, he gloats, “God gave Moses the Ten Commandments and then he gave Irving Berlin ‘Easter Parade’ and ‘White Christmas,” the two holidays that celebrate the divinity of Christ — and what does Irving Berlin do? He de-Christs them both! Easter turns into a fashion show and Christmas into a holiday about snow.”

So how do we take back Christmas? First, let me say something about my motives. I was raised a Christian, but it never took. I would prefer to keep Christianity out of politics, and I would hate to live in an intolerant Christian society. Frankly, I wish that our ancestors had held onto their old pagan religions. Indeed, Christmas incorporates many old European pagan elements, but note that multiculturalists make no attempt to cater to the celebrants of Yule, Saturnalia, and the birthday of Mithras. Nothing White is promoted by the multiculturalists.

But, still, I like Christmas a lot. When the days grow short and the weather gets bad, it is nice to create an environment of cheer and good will. At bottom, my objection is not religious, but cultural. I hate to see the homogenizing, secularizing, leveling forces of modernity at work, even on a religion that I do not profess.

So what is to be done? First, although Jews are the driving force behind the destruction of Christmas, they are a tiny minority, unlovable and unloved, and all the pushiness in the world would not have triumphed if Whites were not such pushovers. Second, the Mobile “Jolly Holiday Parade” incident is instructive. The gentiles pushed back: “citing e-mail and telephone threats from residents opposed to a parade without the word Christmas in its title . . . Mobile Christmas Parade Inc. . . . announced there would be no parade this year. . . . Three hours later, volunteers with Main Street Mobile, a city-staffed organization formed to promote downtown, announced that a parade will roll . . . . It will be called the Mobile Christmas Holiday Parade.”

This year, I have been pushing back in a subtle but steady way. Every chance I get, I wish people a “Merry Christmas,” most pointedly when I am wished “Happy Holidays.” I have even been wishing a “Merry Christmas” to the atheists and Odinists I know.

So, with that long preface in mind: from one infidel to another, “Merry Christmas!”

Kodi McPhee & Viggo Mortensen in "The Road"

Editor’s Note: The reviewer discusses the ending of the film in very general terms. While not technically a spoiler, I thought that readers should nevertheless be warned.

The Road makes The Road Warrior look like a utopia. Based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy and directed by John Hillcoat, The Road stars Viggo Mortensen and Kodi McPhee as a father and his little boy struggling to survive and reach “the coast” in an America devastated by some sort of ecological apocalypse.

This event apparently killed off all animals and plants, but it somehow left human beings alive to live off foraged canned goods and, when these run short, cannibalism. It is no more preposterous a premise than the average zombie film, but the art-film pretensions of the director’s style make it seem silly.

Then, after two harrowing hours of wind, rain, leaden skies, depression, talk of suicide, suicide, more talk of suicide, starvation, roving cannibal gangs, ambushes, earthquakes, falling trees, mistrust, man’s inhumanity to man—just one damn thing after another—a happyish ending is delivered by a deus ex machina.

The initial apocalyptic premise is suddenly revised. We learn that not all animals are dead, and not all people have been reduced to cannibalism. It is, in short, a happy ending, delivered at the price of turning the rest of the movie into an emotional cheat. If the movie had remained true to its original premise, the final line would be “Well kids, it looks like meat’s back on the menu.”

But I am not complaining. Frankly, I was glad of any ending. I just wanted out of there.

Like many people who are profoundly alienated from the system, I relish the thought of a good crash. A crash will destroy the mechanisms of social control and mental conditioning. The struggle for survival will rid us of egalitarianism, progressivism, sentimentality, mental masturbation, and pious rot. False values will be liquidated. (I watched with pleasure as the family in The Road walked over jewels and banknotes, searching for food.) The weak and foolish will perish, the strong and clever will survive. A spell of healthy barbarism will set the stage for the rise of a new civilization. And maybe this time we will get it right.

Post-apocalyptic movies, however, generally disappoint, since in general too much of the bad stuff survives for my taste. The Road, however, goes to the opposite extreme. I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in that world (not that I would have fared well in The Road Warrior either). But personal survival is less important to me than the survival of the white race, and, frankly, until the premise changed at the end, I saw little hope of that either.

Is there a racial meaning, message, or bias to The Road? Not really. The cast and extras are all white, except for two or three blacks. I like to think that in the sort of apocalypse projected in the movie, blacks would fall into cannibalism, while whites would manage to hold some semblance of civilization together in the hope of waiting out the catastrophe. Instead, we see whites reduced to cannibalism and despair.

The one black who has lines in the movie steals the white family’s goods and is caught. Mortensen’s character holds him at gunpoint and strips him of his clothes, leaving him naked, begging, and blubbering. The little boy prevails upon his father to leave the clothes behind, but we never learn if they are reclaimed.

I was amused to read in internet forums that this scene bothered some viewers. They were terrified of a world in which the struggle for survival cancels out white guilt and hardens the heart to Negro pleading. That, of course, is the whole payoff for me. But these critics should be comforted, for the silly child’s instincts prevailed in the end.

The Road in an unremitting downer with no redeeming dramatic or artistic value. If there is anything good in the book, it does not make it to the screen. I think this was supposed to be “art,” so of course it is not entertaining. Intellectual poseurs will claim that it is thought-provoking, but it is really just perplexing.

Don’t waste your time and money on The Road. And for God’s sake don’t show it to anyone who is depressed. I predict that this movie will cause more suicides than a Finnish winter.

First, the book of New Moon is terrible: nearly 600 pages of pedestrian prose, glacially paced, padded to excruciating lengths not with fluff, but with damp, insipid, indigestible literary sawdust. (Don’t any of the big publishers employ decent editors? I am not asking for Victor Hugo every time I pick up a work of popular fiction, but could we at least have Stephen King?) Worst of all, the most compelling character, Edward Cullen was absent throughout much of the book. The only thing that got me to pick the book back up after flinging it down several times in dismay was the hope that finally the romance of Bella Swan and her vampire lover Edward Cullen would resume.

Second, Catherine Hardwicke, the superb director of the first Twilight movie, was replaced by Chris Weitz, and the previews of the movie were not promising. Frankly they are as flat and dull as the novel.

But I have to hand it to Weitz and scriptwriter Melissa Rosenberg: they managed to extract a compelling two hour movie from the sprawling mess of the novel. New Moon is not as good as Twilight, but it is a worthy successor and a bridge to the final two novels/films, which promise much more. The momentum has not been lost.

Part of what makes New Moon work is simply the lingering magic of the first film. We were all glad to see the familiar characters and settings again.

Beyond that, Weitz manages to condense vast boring tracts of the novel into tightly paced, compelling scenes, many of them wordless. The literary sawdust has been replaced with visual poetry—and light comedy.

Taylor Lautner

But the best thing about New Moon is the performance of Taylor Lautner as Jacob Black. Although in the book, Jacob seems merely a distraction and digression from the main plot, Taylor Lautner’s performance made this movie his own. Amazingly, when he was on the screen, we did not miss Edward Cullen. Lautner is a fine, sensitive actor, with a magnificent physique, imposing stage presence, and genuine animal magnetism (which comes in handy for playing a werewolf).

(Guys: I saw this movie with an audience that was 90 percent white, 80 percent under 30, and 80 percent female, and I can tell you if you don’t already know: women go for muscles. They might say something different, but their gasps, sighs, and flutters told a whole different story.)

My two main criticisms of this movie are that the computer animated werewolves look fake, and the Cullens mostly look terrible. In the first film, they are lighted and made up to seem pale but beautiful and strong, like marble statues. In New Moon, they look like corpses who have just awakened from a decades-long nap, with the bad hair one would expect.

Now, as a white racialist, what is my take on this movie? In my review of Twilight, I emphasized that I liked three aspects of that movie.

First, even though the movie added in a number of non-white bit characters, it largely follows the book in underscoring the beauty of white people. New Moon undermines this, by making the Cullens look unappealing and by placing the spotlight on Jacob Black and his fellow young American Indians, who are portrayed by exceptionally handsome, muscular, and fit actors. By the way, judging from the biographies of the actors as well as their looks, all of them seem to have some white ancestry, despite their coppery complexions, which gives them longer, handsomer faces rather than typically round, ugly Amerindian faces.

Although there is a deep friendship—and the seeds of romance—between Jacob and Bella, in the end she returns to Edward. However, the movie can only promote miscegenation through its portrayal of an unusually handsome and gallant non-white male. White girls considering such dalliances in the real world need to realize that race-mixing destroys all races that take part in it. They also need to look at statistics on non-white tendencies towards infecting white women with STDs; raping them; and abandoning, abusing, and murdering them and their children.

Second, I liked how Twilight portrayed Bella Swan and Edward Cullen as exceptionally mature, cultured, and well-mannered young people—without implying that these qualities in any way detract from them being fun-loving and sexy. New Moon does nothing to undermine this, but it does nothing to add to it either.

Third, Twilight emphasizes traditional sex roles. Edward Cullen and Jacob Black are not today’s silly, weak, effeminate, non-threatening males. They are strong, masculine, gallant, heroic, and a little dangerous. Bella Swan is no ass-kicking, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She is physically weaker than Edward and Jacob and attracted to their strength—including the dangers that come with it—and grateful for their protection. (Bella requires a lot of rescuing.) New Moon reinforces this aspect of the story, with Jacob and his wolf pack taking on the role of rescuers.

Yet Bella is in full possession of her real strength as a woman, which makes both men willing to sacrifice themselves to protect her. They do not want to live without her, but they both break off their relationships with her, because they fear that their supernatural strength threatens her well-being. Both come to learn, however, that Bella is safer with them than without them.

When Edward thinks that Bella is dead and seeks to end his life, Bella takes on the role of the rescuer, appearing in the nick of time to save his life, not through strength, but simply because she is the one who makes his life complete.

Echoing my review of Twilight: in spite of their supernatural powers, Edward Cullen and Jacob Black are what in decades past were known simply as red-blooded males. Because of the sickness of our society, such men today can appear on the screen only in the guise of monsters. But because of the strength of nature, women find the monsters irresistible nonetheless.

White people should see New Moon, but the parents of young girls need to warn them about the consequences of miscegenation in the real world.

. . . One may wonder, how it is that a Jewish producer affiliated with Israel and Zionism is standing behind such a film that portrays the Jews in such a horrifying light. The answer is actually very simple. Zionists love to see themselves as revengeful and merciless. In Israel, Samson who is nothing less than a genocidal murderer is regarded as an eternal hero. He even managed to get an IDF battalion called after him. It is not a secret that the fantasy of retribution is deeply imbued within the Zionist psyche and Israeli politics. “Never Again” is there to suggest to Israelis that Jews will never again be sent as lambs to the slaughter. What it means in practice is that Jews will fight back and hit as hard as they can. Reprisal is a key element in the understanding of Israeli conduct. As much as the film depicts a horrifying image of the revengeful Jew, Jews and Zionists happen to support the film and even love it.

But Tarantino doesn’t stop there. He also offers a harsh criticism of Jewish identity by drawing a comparison between the Jewish and Nazi protagonists. . . . Read the whole article.

I’ll put this under the fold, as it may contain spoilers from some of the people who have not yet seen Inglourious Basterds…

Tarantino made his Hong Kong movie, his martial arts movie, and his Blaxpoitation flick but I never expected him to dip into Nazi cinema. He sure loves hearing those Germans talk — boy are they eloquent — and fascist chattering takes up most of the movie. There is a veneer of a Jewish revenge plot against the Germans, but most of the movie strikes me as a re-aestheticization of various Nazi ideals, cinematic, linguistic, and otherwise. I’m not suggesting Tarantino literally favors the rule of Hitler, rather he probably got a kick out of getting away with such a swindle, right under the noses of Hollywood and with commercial success to boot. The Jewish assassin squad members hardly seem virtuous (in some ways they’re portrayed to fit Nazi stereotypes), whereas the German characters light up the screen and show extreme cleverness. (Hitler by the way is a “crummy Austrian,” not up to the more rigorous German ideal.) The sniper “movie within a movie” — which has Tarantino constructing a Nazi movie for a screening scene — is a stand-in for the broader enterprise. Throughout one wonders what are the implied references to Israel, such as when the Jewish suicide bombers strap explosives to themselves. There is homage to Riefenstahl, Pabst, Emil Jannings, Nazi “mountain movies” and other unsavory bits. I found viewing this movie a disturbing and negative experience. I’ve done a lot of work on the history of the state and the arts; if you don’t believe me, go away and research Nazi cinema and watch the film again. . . . Read the whole article.

This is Quentin Tarantino’s worst movie, and that is saying a lot, given how bad Kill Bill, vol. I is. Pulp Fiction was Tarantino’s Citizen Kane, and it has been The Magnificent Ambersons ever since. If you find this review entertaining, let me assure you that it is far more entertaining than the movie itself. Nothing here should be interpreted as encouragement for you to waste your time and money on this preposterous and dull film.

Inglourious Basterds is about a team of American terrorists, consisting of seven Jews led by a gentile, Aldo “the Apache” Raine (played by Brad Pitt), who hails from Tennessee and claims to be part American Indian. The character is clearly based on Tarantino himself, since he too has an Italian name, hails from Tennessee, and claims to be part Cherokee. The mission of the Basterds is to terrify the Nazis by killing them in the most sadistic manner possible and mutilating their corpses. The dead are scalped. The survivors have swastikas carved in their foreheads.

Holocaust narratives are filled with tales of thousands of Jews herded to their doom by relative handfuls of Germans and their collaborators. Although this sheep-like behavior seems rather unlike the hyper-aggressive and unruly Jews of my acquaintance, most people accept it at face value and then wonder: What was wrong with these people? Why didn’t they fight back?

Tarantino has asked the same question: “When you watch all the different Nazi movies, all the TV movies, it’s sad, but isn’t it also frustrating? Did everybody walk into the boxcar? Didn’t somebody do something?”

Inglourious Basterds is his answer.  During WW II, the Jews needed the leadership of someone like Aldo the Apache, a mostly white man with a bit of red savage mixed in, just like the people who have churned out six million holocaust flicks need to take direction from Quentin Tarantino. With Tarantino in charge, the war would have had a very different end, and Inglourious Basterds shows us how.

Should Jews be insulted by this premise? Of course they should. But the movie itself is far more insulting still. Indeed, this is probably the most anti-Semitic movie ever released by Hollywood. Tarantino’s Jewish characters are one-dimensional, inhuman monsters. The Jewish Basterds are all as ugly as Der Sturmer cartoons. They have virtually no lines in the entire movie. All they do is skulk around, waiting for Aldo the Apache’s commands to murder and torture Germans.

Eli Roth and Brad Pitt, Basterds

The most prominent of the Basterds is played by Eli Roth, just another degenerate Jewish director of repulsive horror films. Roth plays the “Bear Jew,” who beats Germans to death with a baseball bat. He is the funniest thing in the entire movie, with his pouting, prissy mouth, drag queen makeup, and shiny brilliantined coiffure. Roth’s large, hairy body (anyone can take steroids) looks menacing until one hears his high, hysteria-edged voice. There was laughter in the audience every time this castrated gorilla opened his mouth on screen.

Too shallow to realize that he was playing a monstrous buffoon, Roth really got into the role, praising Inglourious Basterds as “kosher porn” (is there any other kind?). He really gets off on fantasies of killing Nazis: “It’s almost a deep sexual satisfaction of wanting to beat Nazis to death, an orgasmic feeling. My character gets to beat Nazis to death. That’s something I could watch all day. My parents are very strong about Holocaust education.” They sound like lovely people, and I am sure they are really proud of what a successful boy Eli turned out to be.

Other Jews were equally smitten: Tarantino’s producer, Lawrence Bender,  told Tarantino, “As your producing partner, I thank you, and as a member of the Jewish tribe, I thank you, motherfucker, because this movie is a fucking Jewish wet dream.” Harvey and Bob Weinstein, the film’s executive producers, also reportedly enjoyed the film’s theme of Jewish revenge.

Tarantino also reported received uniformly positive reactions from his Jewish friends: “The Jewish males that I’ve known since I’ve been writing the film and telling them about it, they’ve just been, ‘Man, I can’t fucking wait for this fucking movie!’” he told me. “And they tell their dads, and they’re like, ‘I want to see that movie!’”

If all these Jews have no objection to their tribe being portrayed as one-dimensional vengeful sadists, who am I to complain? Perhaps the shoe fits.

Mélanie Laurent

The most prominent Jewish character in the movie is the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Shoshanna (played by Mélanie Laurent), the daughter of a Jewish dairy farmer (that got the first laugh of the movie). Her family is massacred in 1941 by the SS, and somehow she turns up a few years later with an assumed French identity running a movie theater in Paris with her Negro lover. When her theater is chosen to premiere a new German movie in the presence of Hitler, Goebbels, Goring, Borman, and other leading Nazis, she plans to bolt the doors and burn the place down as an act of revenge.

Shoshana is a character of reptilian inhumanity. A young German, Frederick Zoeller (played by Daniel Brühl) is obviously smitten with her. A film enthusiast, he tries to strike up a conversation about movies. The contrast could not be clearer. He is warm, sincere, and polite. He sees her as a fellow human being and a fellow film-enthusiast.

She sees him only as a racial enemy. She takes no interest in him until she discovers that he is both a film star and a war hero, which she thinks she can use to her advantage. (He does not reveal these things to her initially, for he does not merely wish to impress her, but to befriend her.)

Daniel Brühl

Her only flash of human emotion comes at the end of a scene in which she meets the SS man, Standartenführer Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz), who murdered her family, but it just heightens the impression that she is a cold-blooded master of deception and intrigue.

Shoshanna’s inhumanity is heightened by comparison to Uma Thurman’s revenge-driven character “The Bride” in the Kill Bill movies. The difference is not just a matter of who played the role (although Tarantino decided that as well) but of how the actresses were directed.

Hans Landa claims that he is effective at hunting Jews because he knows how they think. The meaning of this is made clear at the end of the film, when he turns out to be a traitor.

The Allies do not come off much better than the Jews. Aldo the Apache is the only American. He is a loud-mouthed, sadistic, duplicitous jackass with a hillbilly accent. Brad Pitt plays him for laughs, and he is genuinely funny. There are three Britons: the handsome German Michael Fassbender as film-critic Lt. Archie Hicox, Mike Myers as General Ed Fenech, and the wreck of Rod Taylor as Winston Churchill. The first two come off as effete wankers, and Churchill might as well be Jabba the Hutt.

Christoph Waltz

All of this is in strong contrast to the portrayal of the Germans, even the German traitors. First of all, they are mostly quite good-looking and sexy. (As P. J. O’Rourke said: “Nobody has ever had a fantasy about being tied to a bed and sexually revished by someone dressed as a liberal.”) Second, they are dignified, charming, and polite with strangers; warm, playful, and fun-loving among friends. Even though the Germans are supposed to be the bad guys, they are the only people in the film with whom most white people can readily identify themselves. This means that white audiences can only feel revulsion at the sadistic Jews who murder them.

Hitler, of course, is portrayed as a monster. He first appears wearing a cape, which is appropriate, since he is played as nothing more than a comic book villain. (Martin Wuttke is surely the ugliest Hitler ever.)

Goebbels, although he is portrayed as somewhat arrogant (like a film director, perhaps), comes off overall as warm, sincere, playful, and even a bit lovable(!). Tarantino has obviously immersed himself in German films of the era, and it is clear that he has some admiration for what Goebbels accomplished. (In a scene set in England, it is stated as plain fact that Jews run Hollywood, and Goebbels is given credit for giving them a run for their money.)

The true star of the film is Christoph Waltz, whose portrayal of Hans Landa is absolutely riveting. He is such a magnificent character that Tarantino had to turn him into a traitor in the end, otherwise he would be the true hero of the film as well.

The other star is Daniel Brühl who plays Frederick Zoeller, the young war hero who becomes smitten with Shoshanna. His character is the most likable and most tragic of the film.

Now let’s examine the climax of the movie. I have no qualms about giving it away, since I don’t want any of you to see it anyway. Shoshanna hosts the premiere. Hitler and all the top Nazis come to the theater. She splices her face into the fourth reel of the film. Once the fourth reel is playing, her Negro lover bars the doors to the theater. Suddenly, Shoshanna’s face appears on the screen: “This is the face of Jewish vengeance!” she screams, while the Negro sets the building on fire. The kindling he uses are movies printed on highly flammable nitrite film. (Jews use movies — and Negroes — to create mass death and destruction in this country too.)

Meanwhile, two of the Jewish Basterds (including the preposterous Eli Roth), who have infiltrated the theater without knowing of Shoshanna’s plot, run amok with machine guns, killing Hitler and Goebbels and other Nazis. The theater then explodes. Everybody dies, Jews and Germans alike. Götterdämmerung.

The climax of Inglourious Basterds is obviously based on the Oscar night massacre in neo-Nazi Harold Covington’s novel The Brigade. If you don’t believe me, read the novel for yourself.

The symbolism and the message could not be clearer: Jews use movies and movie theaters as tools to destroy their enemies. And since the white people in the audience can most readily identify with the Germans, the message gets through: the Jewish movie business is a tool of hatred and vengeance directed against all white people.

Why would Quentin Tarantino make a movie about World War II in which Germans are portrayed as attractive human beings, Americans are portrayed as sadistic buffoons, Englishmen are portrayed as effete wankers, and Jews are portrayed as cold-blooded, inhuman mass murderers?

Why would Quentin Tarantino borrow plot elements from neo-Nazi Harold Covington’s The Brigade to craft a climax for his movie? Why would he use that climax to expose the true anti-white agenda of Hollywood?

Is Quentin Tarantino a Nazi-sympathizer?

Of course not. Nothing could be further from the truth. Quentin Tarantino is simply a nihilist with an unfailing instinct for finding and desecrating anything sacred. In Pulp Fiction — his one great movie, and his most sincere — Tarantino showed a profound grasp of the spiritual meaning of the duel to the death over honor, symbolized by the Samurai sword. In Kill Bill, vol. I, he made a giant joke of it.

In Inglourious Basterds, Tarantino has taken the one truly sacred myth in modern Jew-dominated America — especially in modern Hollywood — namely WW II and the holocaust, and he has desecrated it by inverting all of its core value judgments and reversing its stereotypes. In the process, he has exposed the true anti-white agenda of Hollywood. Why? Just because he can.

The fact that Quentin Tarantino could desecrate the holocaust, expose Hollywood’s agenda, and sell it back to Hollywood’s Jews is a testament to his twisted genius and their shallowness and moral imbecility.

I wish Inglourious Basterds were a better movie, since I think that many white people would benefit from seeing it. Yes, the explicit message is that it is good for Jews and their hillbilly dupes to sadistically murder Germans (and any other enemies of the Jews, for that matter). But the largely white audience with which I saw the film did not seem terribly comfortable with this message.

Yes, they found Brad Pitt funny. He really was funny. But the sadism directed at Germans did not amuse. In the last scene of the film, where Aldo the Apache graphically carves a swastika in the forehead of Hans Landa and pronounces it “my masterpiece” — pathetically enough, this is probably Tarantino’s view of the film — there was no laughter.

For the subliminal message was coming through loud and clear: we are all Germans now, and every time we turn our eyes to a movie screen we are seeing the face of Jewish vengeance.

1) In 2006, there were 286,000 couples with a black husband and a white wife. Given black males’ aversion to marriage, we can infer that the amount of cohabitation with white women is much higher. There were 117,000 couples with a white husband and a black wife. Frankly, even this number seems shockingly high. It would be interesting to know just how much white ancestry these black women need to have to be acceptable mates to white men. I would guess that it is well above the average white ancestry for American blacks.

2) In 2006, there were 530,000 couples with a white husband and an Asian wife. There were 174,000 couples with a white wife and an Asian husband.

Since white nationalists are nowhere near being able to ban race-mixing outright (not yet), it is imperative that we do everything in our power today to prevent it as much as possible. We need as many arguments as possible, from as many different angles as possible, to persuade people that race-mixing is bad.

A good place to start is to circulate the meme that “Everyone thinks that whites who date outside their race are somehow defective. If you don’t look defective, then people will just assume that you have some hidden physical, ahem, shortcoming, or a psychological problem. If you don’t want people thinking you are somehow defective, then don’t date a non-white.”

One likely question you will hear is: “But even if that is true 99 percent of the time, what about the 1 percent that are not defective?”

Here is my answer: “The tragedy of inter-racial dating is that the non-defective few will always be lumped in with the defective many. If you want to avoid that tragedy, don’t date a non-white.”

And if you don’t think that everyone already believes that white race-mixers are defective, then get to work spreading the idea around, and eventually everyone will.

Please write to me at TOQ Online, or post a comment, if you have concrete ideas and arguments for discouraging race-mixing in the present context.

Boldly going where no man has gone before: television's first interracial kiss on "Star Trek"

When most people see whites dating non-whites, the immediate assumption is that there is something wrong with the white. Usually the defects are obvious. We know why a homely or obese white woman is sleeping with blacks or Mexicans: they are willing to overlook her faults because she is white. We know why a geeky, acne-scarred white man gravitates towards Asians: they are willing to overlook his faults because he is white (and of course the aliens are angling for green cards and money as well).

And what about attractive whites who date non-whites? In recent years, more and more white men who are not obvious losers are dating Asians. But according to the conventional wisdom, they probably have hidden physical or psychological defects, such as a self-esteem problem. (Seems pretty reasonable to me.)

Race-mixing is sold as an expression of progress in racial equality: fair Romeos will no longer be separated from their dusky Juliets by the antiquated prejudices of their parents’ generation. But the ugly truth is that race-mixing usually presupposes racism and racial hierarchies. The whites feel that they are dating or marrying down, and the non-whites feel that they are dating or marrying up.

Chris Pine, the new Captain Kirk

White losers are attracted to marrying down, because they feel that their grateful partners will overlook their flaws for the privilege of marrying into a superior race, and their non-white partners think the same thing: they could never get a normal white, but they are willing to take up with a subnormal one, because they want to marry into a superior race.

An allied attitude is that non-whites can’t be blamed for wanting to date or marry whites. Their racial betrayal is seen as a completely healthy impulse. The attitude is: “Who could blame black men for pursuing white women? Have you seen black women?” “Who could blame Asian women for wanting to date white men? Just look at Asian men!” (Everybody also knows that Asian men and black women are the big losers in the inter-racial dating game.)

Alan Tudyk & Gina Torres in "Firefly"

These are not, moreover, the attitudes of hardcore racists alone. Virtually everyone believes this, white and non-white, race-mixers included. I hold these views, even though I know that there are obviously some cases in which they are not true. (There is enough interaction between the races now that perfectly normal people can form friendships that turn into romances.) But the attitudes persist, because they are what Burke calls “wise prejudices”–based on past experience, repeatedly confirmed by new experiences, and therefore handy heuristic assumptions to maintain when visiting the Bay Area.

But even though everyone believes that white race-mixers are defective, nobody really talks about it. Even the diversity police who obsessively try to expose every other instance of hidden racism, real or imagined, remain silent. I suspect they are silent because they know that a widespread discussion of this attitude would inhibit race-mixing, and they don’t want to do that.

Nathan Fillion in "Firefly"

White race-mixers may know they are defective, but they think that others do not divine this fact when they parade their non-white paramours in public . If they knew that others saw them as defective, they might not be so enthusiastic about race-mixing. This is especially true of otherwise attractive and normal-looking white race-mixers, who would not be suspected of having hidden flaws if they did not advertise them by pursuing non-white sexual partners.

There has been a certain normalization of white men dating Asians. Because feminism has made so many otherwise attractive white women into bitches, it is easy to understand why perfectly normal white men are tempted to settle for Asian women, as they seem to be more feminine, submissive, and oriented toward home and family.

But even those who defend whites dating Asians as a normal and healthy reaction to a sick society, will immediately assume that there must be something wrong with a white man who dates a black woman. Even the most delirious Yellow Fever victims balk at that.

Hence the normalization of white male/black female pairings has emerged as an identifiable action item on the agenda for white genocide.

Kandyse McClure & Jamie Bamber in "Battlestar Galactica"

For a long time, such parings were quite rare in television and the movies. It seemed easier to sell images of black men as wise mentors, crime fighters, scientific geniuses, US Presidents, and God, than black women as attractive sexual partners for normal, non-defective white men.

Yes, there was the famous kiss between Captain Kirk (William Shatner) and Lt. Uhuru (Nichelle Nichols) in the original Star Trek series, but Kirk was under alien influence. Yes, there was race-mixing in Mandingo (the Marquis de Sade meets Uncle Tom’s Cabin), but the white race-mixers were explicitly shown to be physically and psychologically defective. The same is true in Roots. Yes, there was the neighbor across the hall in The Jeffersons. But he was a dweeb. James Bond, of course, is one of the earliest white miscegenators on the big screen, but we assume he is closing his eyes, holding his nose, and thinking about England. And when Bond marries, he marries a white woman.

But in recent years, there has been a trend towards pairing white Alpha males with black women. Not just normal white males, but superior white males. Heroic white males. Winners, not losers.

Rosario Dawson as Alexander's queen Roxane

The first time this struck me was in Oliver Stone’s 2004 film Alexander, in which Alexander the Great (you can’t get more Alpha than Alexander the Great), played by Colin Farrell, is paired with the mulatto Rosario Dawson, who is cast as Roxane, Alexander’s queen. (The historical Roxane was the daughter of a Persian aristocrat. She was reputed to be one of the most beautiful women in the Empire. She was probably as Aryan as Alexander himself.)

Then there is Joss Whedon’s superb but short-lived 2002 science fiction series Firefly, in which starship pilot Hoban Washburne, played by the very Nordic Alan Tudyk, is married to Zoë, a black Amazon with grotesquely large lips played by Gina Torres. The character of “Wash” is something of a dork, and he is not the captain of the ship, so he is not the real Alpha. The captain, Malcolm Reynolds (played by Nathan Fillion) is a true Alpha male, and his romantic interest is a white woman, Inara (played by the beautiful Morena Baccarin). But in one episode he is shown lusting after Zoë as well.

In another science fiction series, the new Battlestar Galactica, Alpha male Lee Adama, played by the Nordic Jamie Bamber, marries green-eyed mulatto Dualla, played by Kandyse McClure. (Admittedly, the character is punishing himself and the white woman woman he really wants to marry. But he could have punished himself with another white woman.)

Jamie Bamber with his real family

Finally, in the new Star Trek movie, the Alpha male, Captain Kirk, played by the Nordic Chris Pine, is shown lusting after a black woman and even a green woman–but never a white woman. (This essay originally began as a review of Star Trek, but I have nothing to add to Jonathan Pyle’s superb Occidental Observer essay “Star Trek and the Multiracial Future.”)

I am sure that many other examples can be provided.

Why is Hollywood portraying white Alpha males pursuing and even marrying black women? Because they want the Beta males, the Gamma males, and everybody else down to the Omega males, to follow them down the path to white racial extinction.

The people who create these movies–the directors, the writers, the producers, the casting directors–are not artists. They are abortionists. They are aborting the whole future of the white race. And they are not doing it by accident. We know this, because so many of them are Jews, who are constantly reminded from birth that marrying out leads to extinction for them, and they know that goes for us too. (The fact that many of these Jews marry out make them even worse. It means that they are committing genocide against their own people as well as ours.)

When the white nationalist movement can mobilize the numbers, the idealism, and the physical courage evoked by the anti-abortion movement, then I will stop fearing for the future of my race. And even then, it will take a full-blown revolution, not merely a constitutional amendment, to save us.

I am glad I did, because Twilight is an excellent movie: beautifully filmed, artfully-directed, well-acted, with a gorgeous cast and scenery, and very good music. But most importantly, although it is decked out in the usual Semiticially correct Hollywood cliches, the overall message and impression of Twilight is quite subversive of Hollywood’s agenda. This is particularly interesting since it is directed at young adults, who are the main targets of Hollywood’s pro-feminist and anti-white propaganda.

Twilight begins with Bella Swan (played by Kristen Stewart) leaving her mother in sunny Phoenix to finish out her Junior year in High School with her father in Forks, Washington. Located on the Olympic Peninsula, Forks is blanketed almost year-round by clouds, fog, and rain.

Bella is a lovely brown-eyed brunette with an exceptionally fair complexion, which gives her a somewhat “Goth” look, although for all I know this analogy is hopelessly dated. Even her name connotes white beauty, for bella is Italian for beautiful, and swans are archetypically white and graceful.

Despite her “Goth” look, Bella is not merely a moody and maladjusted teen with morbid tastes. She is a remarkably mature, intelligent, bookish, and sensitive girl who studied ballet and knows something about classical music.

For a small town in Washington State, Forks has an implausible number of non-whites. The only non-whites who really fit in this setting are the local Indians, who are on quite friendly terms with Bella and her father, the local police chief. (Out West in the real world, Indians are overrepresented among criminals and tend not to have warm relations with policemen.)

The students Bella meets are a friendly enough bunch, but they seem immature and one-dimensional compared to her. Bella’s attention, however, is immediately drawn to Edward Cullen (played by Robert Pattinson). Tall and handsome, Edward like Bella is a brown-eyed brunette with a fair complexion. It looks like makeup, and I am sure the effect is achieved by makeup and lighting, but in close-ups one can see blue veins beneath his skin. Edward’s parents Carlisle and Esme (played by Peter Facinelli and Elizabeth Reaser) share Edward’s pallor. Strangely, it is also shared by Edward’s four foster siblings: Emmet and Rosalie (played by Kellan Lutz and Nikki Reed) and Alice and Jasper (played by Ashley Greene and Jackson Rathbone), who to add to the weirdness, also seem to be romantic couples.

Edward is obviously as attracted to Bella as she is to him. But he also resists this attraction and flees Bella, which only increases her fascination. She begins to notice strange things about Edward. His eyes change color; his skin is ice cold; he is astonishingly fast and strong; and he and his entire family disappear on the rare days when the sun shines in Forks. . . . You see where this is leading.

The Cullens are vampires. But there is a twist. They do not want to be monsters. Although they have a strong craving for human blood, they resist it and feed on animals instead. As they put it, they are the vampire equivalent of vegetarians. But resisting the hunger is hard, so they are forced to remain aloof from normal people. Edward, however, is in love with Bella. Hence an exquisite conflict: how can he get close enough to love her without succumbing to the temptation to eat her?

I will say no more about the plot of Twilight. Suffice it to say that the romance of Edward and Bella is fascinating: emotionally and morally complex, beautifully acted and directed, and just plain hot. But, remarkably, all of this is portrayed without resorting to depictions of nudity and sex.

Aside from the absurdly multi-racial cast of bit-players, the heart of Twilight is deeply politically incorrect in three ways.

First, the heroes of Twilight are two very unusual teenagers. Edward and Bella are intelligent, thoughtful, well-mannered, serious-minded, and cultured. This is not surprising in the case of Edward, who has lived for more than a century. But Bella really is a teenager. Twilight does not mock manners and refined tastes as stuffy, snobbish, and old-fashioned. It displays them in their full beauty and shows that they are consistent with being young, fun-loving, and sexy. This is remarkable message for a movie aimed at a young audience.

The second politically incorrect feature of Twilight is the movie’s aesthetic of whiteness. One does not need slogans like “White is Beautiful,” because it is so obvious. But while the cultural establishment exploits the white racial aesthetic, it also undermines it, particularly by promoting the ideas that tanning is beautiful and healthy-looking while having a fair complexion is ugly and unhealthy looking. (Of course a corpse-like pallor does look unhealthy, but a fair complexion that is rosy and pink with health obviously does not. Tanning, as Socrates pointed out, does not make people healthy; it merely adds color to the sick and the healthy alike, allowing one to mask one’s sickliness.) Promoting tanning is the cosmetic equivalent of miscegenation: it replaces distinctly white characteristics with non-white ones. (One can, of course, lose one’s tan, but not the skin damage that comes with it. Miscegenation, however, is forever.)

Bella and the Cullens are, of course, a whiter shade of pale. Too white to really be healthy. But nonetheless, they force you to confront just how beautiful palefaces can be. They look like they have stepped out of old paintings from the days when people valued fair complexions and tried to preserve them. Of course all the actors have fine features, which is the bedrock of beauty no matter what the skin tone. But their fair skin, especially combined with dark hair and eyes and red lips, makes their faces astonishingly expressive in the most subtle ways. (Twilight promotes a white aesthetic, but not a blonde-haired, blue-eyed one, since these contrast less strikingly with fair skin.) Facial expressiveness is a matter of contrasts, and the fairer the complexion, the wider the range of contrasts that can be observed, from the most subtle blush to the most marked expressions of fear and anger. (This, by the way, is why Blacks rely so heavily on their eyes and teeth to express their emotions, since these contrast most sharply with their complexions.)

The third way in which Twilight is politically incorrect is that the whole thrust of the movie is deeply anti-feminist. In one scene, Bella tells one of her racially indeterminate schoolmates that she should ask a guy to the prom rather than wait for him to ask her, because she is “a strong, independent woman.” This strong, independent woman takes Bella’s advice and gets the date she wants: a flamboyantly effeminate Chinese wimp. Together, they are the feminist establishment’s ideal androgynous couple, and nobody in his or her right mind would want to emulate them.

Bella, however, is not interested in the nice, non-threatening boys in her high school. She only has eyes for Edward, because she senses that he has powerful emotions that he is struggling to keep in check. She is attracted to him because he is dangerous. But even when she unravels Edward’s secret, she is not dissuaded from pursuing him, but instead is even more fascinated.

There is a remarkable exchange between Bella and Edward once they openly acknowledge that he is a vampire. He says that she should flee from him. He is the most dangerous predator in nature. Everything about him is designed to attract her: his looks, his voice, his smell. But if she tried to run away from him, he could outrun her. If she tried to fight him off, he could overpower her. It is only the strength of his will and chivalrous instincts, and his desire for a deeper and longer-lasting form of union, that protects her.

Bella is no Buffy the Vampire Slayer, no Xena: Warrior Princess. Edward makes her feel anything but strong and independent. That is what makes him so irresistible. But he does make her feel deeply feminine, and deeply powerful in a different way. For Edward, despite all of his strength, is incomplete, and as a woman Bella possesses something that has made this fierce and formidable killer helplessly in love with her. Yet loving her does not emasculate him, and this is good, because the same strength and capacity for violence that could rape and kill her allows Edward to go on to save Bella from being raped and killed by others.

Edward’s potential for violence and the chivalry that holds it in check  may be heightened by his vampire nature, but there is nothing supernatural about them. Edward Cullen is what in decades past was known as a red-blooded American male. Bella too is a classic figure from fiction: a damsel whose awareness of her physical weakness and vulnerability only heightens her sense of a woman’s true strength.

Of course for decades now the popular culture has worked to emasculate men and masculinize women: to turn men into the non-threatening males Bella spurns and to convince women that strength lies in casting aside all distinctly female roles and competing with men in traditionally male pursuits (or drive their men crazy in trying).

It is a testimony to the power of this propaganda that true manliness can now appear only in the guise of a monster. It is a testament to the even greater power of nature that women find the monster irresistible nonetheless.

David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence (New Line Cinema, 2005) is truly a superb movie, with a tight and economical script (the whole story is told in 96 minutes), a remarkably subtle and gripping performance by Viggo Mortensen (his best ever, in my opinion), excellent performances from the rest of the cast, and an unostentatiously elegant directorial style (unmarred by the middlebrow pretentiousness and penchant for the juvenile and repulsive that ruin most of Cronenberg’s movies).

The hero of A History of Violence is Tom Stall, played by Viggo Mortensen. As the movie opens, Stall is portrayed as very much a White everyman. He is a family man with a wife (Edie, played by Maria Bello) and two children (Jack, played by Ashton Holmes and Sarah, played by Heidi Hayes). He lives in Millbrook, Indiana, a small, apparently entirely White town in the Midwest. (Only one black appears, a TV news reporter from out of town.)

Tom is middle class, but a little above middle, as he owns a small business (a diner, where he mans the counter, coffee-pot, and cash register) and his wife Edie is a small-town lawyer. Both Tom and Edie wear crosses around their necks, which are clearly visible in several scenes, so it is impossible to mistake them for anything but Christians.

Like a lot of American men today, Tom is a bit of a wimp. Physically, he is not soft or effeminate, but fit and manly. Yet his manner is hesitant and self-deprecating, his speech laconic and soft, his voice sometimes high-pitched and pleading. His wife, by contrast, is articulate, outspoken, and confident. In many scenes, she does the talking for Tom. Tom is sexually passive while his wife is sexually aggressive. In a rather subtle touch, throughout most of the movie Tom cannot get his masculine pickup truck to start, so his wife drives him to work in her maternal station-wagon.

The Stalls’ teenage son is a bit of a wimp too. Like his father, he has an athletic physique and athletic ability, but not an athlete’s self-confidence. He is bullied by some jocks, who call him a “fag,” and he replies only with sarcasm. His verbal self-confidence comes from his mother the lawyer.

But we see there is more to Tom than meets the eye when two thugs hold up his diner at closing time. (The robbers have already been established as sadistic killers.) When it becomes apparent that they want to take more than just money, Tom, in a thrilling, cathartic explosion of violence, kills them both.

Immediately, Tom is hailed by the news media as a hero, but he shuns the acclaim and attention in his soft-spoken, self-deprecating manner. He just wants life to go back to normal. Unfortunately, some people just won’t let him.

A few days later, when the diner has reopened, three well-dressed but sinister out-of-towners drop by. The leader, Carl Fogarty (played by Ed Harris), has a hideously scarred face. Fogarty insists that Tom Stall is actually named Joey Cusak, that he is from Philadelphia, and that they have met before. Tom, somewhat flustered, denies their allegations. Then Edie steps in and tells them firmly to leave.

Once the trio departs, Edie calls the Sheriff, who pulls the men over and tells them to leave town. Then he looks into their identities. They are gangsters from Philadelpia with long criminal records. Suspense mounts as Fogarty and his men stalk and menace the Stall family. Fogarty tells Edie that Tom was involved in organized crime (his brother Richie Cusak is a big mobster), that Tom has killed before, and that it was Tom who scarred his face and blinded him in one eye.

Meanwhile, Jack Stall, no doubt imitating his father’s heroism in the diner, decides to fight back against the bullies who have been picking on him. He is suspended and sent home from school. Tom first rebukes his son for using violence. He tells him that in their family they do not solve problems by hitting people. Jack hurls back, “No, in this family we kill them.” Stung, Tom slaps Jack’s face, and Jack storms out of the house.

Jack returns a while later as a hostage of Fogarty and his men. Fogarty offers to trade Jack for his father. He tells Tom that he wants to take him to Philadelphia and on a ride “down memory lane.” Both destinations sound ominous.

Tom complies long enough to secure Jack’s release. Then he fights. Tom handily kills Fogarty’s two goons, but is wounded by Fogarty. As he lies on the ground, Fogarty towering over him about to deliver the coup de grâce, Tom says that he should have killed Fogarty back in Philadelphia when he had the chance. So Tom is Joey after all. But before Fogarty can fire, he is felled from behind by a shotgun blast. It is Jack. He solved the problem, Stall style.

Edie and Jack are naturally horrified to discover that Tom Stall is really Joey Cusak, a mob-connected killer. Jack responds with more smart talk. Edie’s reaction runs the gamut from retching (the only scene that really rings false) to weeping and screaming to standing up for her husband when the Sheriff begins asking questions.

Tom, for his part, makes it clear that he did more than merely change his name. It was a process of psychological death and rebirth. He says he went out to the desert (symbolically a place of purification) and killed Joey, and he was only fully reborn when he married Edie. This is a very significant point, for the whole film dwells on the contrast between bands of unmarried men and married men with families, and what makes possible the transition.

But everyone, including Tom himself, has reason to be glad that Joey was not killed off in the desert. It is Joey who saved the customers and staff of Stall’s diner. It is Joey who saved the Stall family from Fogarty. It is also Joey who gave Jack the strength to stand up for himself and his family, even to the point of killing Fogarty.

Edie, moreover, finds Joey sexually attractive. When a heated argument turns suddenly violent, Edie finds it arousing. Although it is Edie who first turns the tussle in a sexual direction, overall the scene reverses the couple’s earlier lovemaking, where Edie is active and Tom passive. The scene is psychologically plausible, totally politically incorrect, and just plain hot. But in the end, Joey still spends the night on the couch.

Joey is awakened by a phone call from his brother Richie, who asks him to come to Philadelphia. The alternative is that Richie come there, which would endanger the family. So, in the dead of night, Joey gets in his pickup truck (which he can now get started) and heads to Philadelphia.

The climax of the movie is the meeting of Joey and Richie (in a reptilian portrayal by William Hurt) in a posh suburban mansion. We learn that Joey fled Philadelphia after savagely beating Carl Fogarty and killing some of his men. Fogarty was a “made man” in the mob, so Richie’s own career was impeded by his brother’s impulsive violence. (As Joey points out, however, Richie seems to have done well for himself anyway.)

The bulk of their conversation deals with family.

First, Richie makes it clear that monogamy holds no charms for him. He can’t see how one woman can make him want to give up all the others. Joey, however, understands. It is how he was transformed from “Crazy Joey,” the ultra-violent outcast from his own criminal Männerbund, into a responsible family man who would not only live beyond his violent youth, but beyond his own death through his children.

Second, Joey explains that he fled Philadelphia after beating Fogarty because he thought Richie would choose career over family, avenging Fogarty rather than protecting his brother. Richie admits that he was right.

Joey seems fully cognizant that no matter how much he has changed (and it was less than he thought), his brother has not changed at all. Still, Joey’s hope that he can mend his relationship with his brother is touchingly palpable. But when Richie reminisces about the time he tried to strangle Joey in his crib and then adds as an aside, “I guess all kids do that,” the effect is slightly comical but so inhuman that it makes a mockery of Joey’s hopes.

When Richie signals to one of his henchmen to strangle Joey, there is another explosion of violence, leaving Richie and four henchmen dead.

The movie ends with Joey’s return home at dinner time on a dark autumn evening. The scene is tense. No words are spoken. But the tension begins to ease when Sarah sets a place at the table for her father. He sits down, the circle mended, and Edie slowly raises her eyes to look into Tom’s.

We are left with some hope that Tom is finally free of his past, that his family is safe, and that they will find a way of living with Joey rather than trying to bury him again in the desert.

A History of Violence is a meditation on the inherent connection between manliness and the capacity for violence. The movie clearly shows the necessity of domesticating wolf packs of young violent males (the bullying jocks, the two wandering killers, the Philadelphia mafia) who struggle to establish dominance hierarchies and egg one another on to challenge authority, transgress boundaries, and use and discard females. Unless such young men can form families and follow laws, society—and much of the human race—will perish.

But what sets A History of Violence apart, and makes it a remarkable movie, is that it also shows that we must civilize young men without emasculating them, because the masculine capacity for violence is also what protects the family and social order from unattached, predatory males. It is strong, responsible, manly men—not Hollywood’s ball-busting female cops, cat-suited karate girls, and other silly “strong women” clichés; not academia’s sensitivity training, candlelight vigils, and feminist scolds—that are the true bulwark of civilization. This is hardly the sort of message delivered by most movies today.

I highly recommend A History of Violence. It is a pro-family movie that you definitely will not want to show the whole family.