Steal This Movie!

This incendiary title, a twist on the title of Abbie Hoffman's primer, Steal This Book!, on how to live freely, and for free, in an unfree world, would have ruffled a lot more feathers in a post-Napster world. And watching the 1999 film and its commentaries, I can only imagine what would have been said had the film come out a few years later, after Bush's election and his little Son of Vietnam excursion.

I recently reviewed another Robert Greenwald film, Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch's War On Journalism and will soon review his upcoming feature, Wal-Mart: The High Cost Of Low Price, and his 2003 documentary Uncovered: The Whole Truth About The Iraq War. But, now I know what turned Robert Greenwald from a very average Hollywood director into a man willing to use his skills to make socially important films. It was his love for his children... and Abbie. Abbie's ideals, and how he lived his life, inspired many. And, thanks to Greenwald, will continue to do so.

Despite the title of his first film, the unforgettable, not to mention unforgivable, Xanadu, Greenwald was no Orson Wells and his film was no Citizen Kane. Yet, two decades later he took a real life stab at Murdoch, the Hearst of our day. How did he transition from being a cog in the Hollywood machine, to taking on Murdoch, Bush and Wal-Mart? His daughters were reaching the age of awareness, early twenties, and he realized they knew very little about what happened in the sixties.

That's surprising in a way. We're talking about the Baby Boomers the huge population bubble was young, idealistic and vibrant, not to mention loud, then. They refused to fight the war of their parents, changed the world, opened up jobs for women, opened up homes for blacks. We questioned authority, questioned assumptions. We wanted more than the dark, violent reality of our parents.

So why did Greenwald, a boomer himself, need to make a film in order to educate his kids? Because, despite the flowing skirts and highly embroidered tops on every young girl today, this is no Age of Aquarius. That embroidery comes from Chinese children paid pennies and the flower children of yesterday now have mow & blow Mexicans tending their flowers. Despite its size and ideals, not to mention television coverage, we are talking about a lost generation.

I guess the days of white kids fighting for social justice are over. Did they ever really care? Or did most just want to avoid the draft? It's the latter, which is why the anti-war movement shriveled up after they brilliantly went to the lottery method of drafting. Yes, we still have people out there today, helping the poor to vote, going on missions, etc. We'll always have people who do care about social justice, but will we ever have someone with the courage and creativity of an Abbie Hoffman? I don't know.

The man had a genius for promotion that would dwarf Steve Jobs and Bill Gates combined. Did he use it like they did... to build his own personal empire and ego? No, he went into the lions den, took beating after beating, lived underground, barely seeing his young son, america, for six years. He never looked to make a cent off his considerable fame. In fact, he gave the money he made from selling the film rights to one of his books to the Black Panthers.

There are a handful of men who have really affected me, inspired me, meant something to me in my life: Jerry Garcia, John Lennon, Ken Kesey, Tim Leary, Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman. Of these, I sometimes think I love Abbie best of all. He was the truest and purest revolutionary and understood that it was not really about the art and the words and the fun. Those were the methods, the instruments, and without the underlying goal of social change, it was without true meaning. The first three are artists. Tim, a teacher. Jerry Rubin, I love him, but by the time I interviewed him in 1979, he was about money. He complained about Lennon being holed up in the Dakota but, when I asked him what he was doing to promote change, he turned it back on me, saying, essentially, protest is for college kids.

Abbie never had any other purpose but protest and guerilla theater. He started his career as a freedom fighter in the south registering black voters and getting his head bashed in. And, that's pretty much how he ended up. He called himself a professional defendant. A victim of manic-depression, his career as defendant, refugee and orphan of America took its toll, ultimately resulting in his suicide in 1989. He paid a high price to illustrate for America the corporate interests that control our society.

Who do we look to today? Accidental tourists like Hank Barry, Shawn Fanning and Bram Cohen did challenge the powerful control of the media but they want nothing more than cash and control themselves. How many more have to die in Iraq before someone shows some awareness, principals and courage? Will we ever see people like Abbie Hoffman again? If not, the world is a far sadder, dimmer place for the loss.

Abbie Hoffman was unique. His charm was his uninhibited freedom and courage. No one stopped Abbie from speaking his truth, ever. And, we all knew it wasn't just his truth. It was THE truth. The truth no one wanted to face about this country: what we are, what we do , what we stand for. Abbie made us look at that gritty reality as he threw cash at greedy stockbrokers and surrounded the Pentagon for a levitation. He did it in a colorful, almost lighthearted way... to bring people in. He had all the right goals and all the right methods... and he truly changed the world for the better. His life should serve as an example for all of us.