The Thin Line Between Film and Progaganda

In an advertising class I am taking this semester, we frequently discuss the fine line that exists between a simple advertisement and a propaganda piece. As our analysis continues, it becomes more and more apparent just how flimsy this distinction can be.

Technically what defines propaganda is its dishonesty: it presents falsification as fact in order to achieve a certain end, to invoke a particular sentiment. But it is also as simple as this: typically a work is deemed propaganda when those consuming it do not agree with its content or purpose.

The same, it seems, could be said of movies. When films fall on our good side—when we like the political points they make-- we call them “moving,” “persuasive,” “telling,” “revealing,” “exposing,” and oh-so often “Oscar-worthy.” When we don’t, when we disagree, we call them “propaganda.”

It is appropriate here to recall the readings of Walter Benjamin that we analyzed earlier in the semester. I his essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” (1935) Benjamin posits that “all film is political,” and I will say that since my first reading I have warmed to his theory. If the term “political” is interpreted as motivational—aimed at changing the minds of those effected—I would say that all film certainly falls into this category. It is the inherent aim of film to persuade viewers to occupy a certain alternate viewpoint, to suture them into a certain world and convince them that it is real and right. Film is manipulative by nature. In this sense, all things political seem to be propaganda, and ipso facto it seems that all film could therefore be thought of us propaganda.
Take, for example, “Triumph of the Will,” a directed by Leni Riefenstahl in1935 –the same year Benjamin was writing. The film documents the 1934 Nuremberg Congress of the Nazi party and is widely considered one of the most notorious examples of propaganda in film history. Riefenstahl’s cinematography is worthy of applaud: she used many innovative techniques such as moving cameras, telephoto lenses, aerial shots ad swelling music in order to emphasize the strong presence of Hitler and his party—to suggest the power found in numbers. For this glorification of fascism, many find the film controversial and offensive. I would argue that to ignore the artistic success of the piece because of the bad taste its historical implications leave in some mouths is to ignore the subtleties of film as an art form.

In many ways, this film finds its foil in “Life is Beautiful” (1997, Roberto Benigni), a film that champions those on the other side of the story. The movie follows a Jewish family throughout the Holocaust. The film won many awards and is regarded as one of the most well-done movies about this historical event. It, too, takes pains to convince viewers of its viewpoints by casting a charismatic actor, a beautiful heroine, an adorable young boy to portray those forced into concentration camps. The artful shots, the beautiful scenery and costuming, the wonderful cast and score all come together to make it virtually impossible for viewers not to sympathize with the intended “good guys” of the film. It is possible that, in this regard, Benigni is as guilty of creating propoganda as Riefenstahl.

Both “Triumph of the Will”and “Life is Beautiful” are examples of aesthetically compelling cinematic arguments. The makers of these movies are both very talented, but each used his or her skills to achieve very different aims. While Riefenstahl sought to glamorize the images of the masses and the spectacle of power, Benigni championed the individual human and the agency of the powerless. My point is that both of these films are political, and which one you consider propoganda could easily depend on where your loyalties lie.