44 / CHRONICLESnThen there’s the name-calling:nClint Eastwood is a “fascist,” Milius anwarmonger, Stallone a stupid egomaniac,nRoger Moore “ludicrous,” etc.nStanley KaufFmann calls CharlesnBronson’s Mr. Majestyk “ridiculous”nand Death Wish “insidious.” JohnnSimon falls into line and refers to JohnnMilius as “this unsavory character,”nAmerican Film runs a piece on Rambonfilms and entitles it “The Fascist Gunsnin the West.” Pauline Kael, as usual,ntops them all in rancor, if not coherence,nin saying of Paul Schrader, scenaristnof Taxi Driver and writerdirectornoi Hardcore, “For Schrader toncall himself a whore would be vanity:nhe doesn’t know how to turn a trick.”nThese critics have been so virulentnand irrational in their condemnationnof recent crime films that their motivesnseem suspect. Why all the fuss? Ifnyoung people want to watch good guysnmake a hash out of bad guys, well, thatndoesn’t seem to be much of a threat tonAmerican society. But Kael writes as ifnit were. Still, I believe they’re sincere.nI also believe they are dead wrongnabout these films.nFirst and foremost, they are wrongnabout the motives of the people whonmake these films. They are not makingnthese films because they’re greedy ornbellicose or sexually repressed or stupid,nall things of which these filmmakersnhave been frequently accused.nThese films are being made by artistsnfrom all across the political spectrum.nIn fact, many of the people involved innthese productions have also madensome of the most critically acclaimednfilms of our time. Such critical favoritesnas William Friedkin, Peter Weir,nAlan Rudolph, Nick Nolte, WilliamnHurt, Sigourney Weaver, MickeynRourke, and Genevieve Bujold havenall been involved in the making ofnrecent crime-dramas.nAs for those filmmakers most closelynassociated with the genre, Eastwood,nfor example, makes as much moneynon his goofy comedies as he does fromnhis “Dirty Harry” films; Norris,nSchwarzenegger, and Ford have allnexpressed interest in making comediesnand love stories. Neither money nornideology is the main reason these filmsnare being made. They’re making thesenfilms because they like the subject.nImpossible to believe, perhaps, especiallynfor rich New Yorkers who travelnto work in limousines, but there arenpeople out there who actually like tonmake films about crime. The reason isnclear: They’re interested in morals.nFor that is what crime films arenabout: morals. They are not aboutnguns, “macho” posturing, crass selfaggrandizement,nor any of the othernphantasms pursued by phony critics asneasy targets for derision. They arenabout questions of right and wrong.nMost citizens have at least a rough ideanof what’s legal and what’s illegal; whatnis harder to determine in any givennsituation is what’s right and what’snwrong. That’s why these films go outsidenthe law: because that’s where thenambiguity is, where the answers arenunclear, and where one can questionnsociety’s basic values. That’s where thenhard choices are: outside the law.nLazy critics have lumped these filmsninto a category usually called “gunnfilms,” “revenge films,” “vigilantenfilms,” or even “fascist films.” I don’tnthink these films constitute a genre innthe literary sense, because they cutnacross several genres, making definitionndifficult. However, although thenterm is usually used derisively, I willncheerfully consent to calling these picturesn”vigilante films,” because that isnprecisely what they are. What is anvigilante, after all, except a man whonbands together with his friends andnneighbors to restore order, especiallynwhen the law has broken down? In then”vigilante film,” people are pushednoutside the law because society fails tonprovide protection from criminal forcesnor fails to provide retribution for onenor more heinous criminal acts.nThat word “heinous” is important.nVigilante films don’t concern themselvesnwith shoplifting or burglary ornpurse-snatching or even muggings.nThe central concern is with wantonnmurders, serial killings, rapes, drugndealing, armed robbery, organizedncrime, terrorist acts, and other horrificndangers to the civil peace.nThese things happen, remember,nand in our country they often gonunpunished, for one reason or another.nVigilante films, at their worst, pandernto the impotent audience member’sndesire to see a rude form of justicendone. This desire, however, could asnwell be fulfilled by characters who stayninside the law: i.e., the police, operatingnby the book. Contemporary audi­nnnences, on the other hand, don’t respondnso well to characters who staynwithin the law, and filmmakers don’tnseem to have much interest in straightforward,nby-the-book cops. Indeed,nvigilante films often ridicule thenbureaucratic-minded, square-toed copnwho is more concerned with procedurenthan justice. No, it’s clear thatnaudiences and filmmakers want to seentheir heroes go outside the law. Thenquestion is why.nThe answer to that question is morencomplicated than Kael and her colleaguesnlet on. The vigilante film is anfairly recent development. Hollywood’sn”cop films” and “gangsternfilms” of the 1930’s often inadvertentiynglorified their criminal lead charactersnby portraying them as romantic rebelsnagainst society. Audiences sympathizednwith the gangsters played bynJimmy Cagney, Edward G. Robinson,nand Clark Gable in such films as ThenRoaring Twenties (1939), Little Caesarn(1930), and Manhattan Melodraman(1934); they were little guys from thenslums making it big the only way theynknew how.nWhen these same actors playedncops, however, they lacked audiencensympathy. The cop has society behindnhim; while there is danger in his life,nthere just doesn’t seem to be the samenchallenge and romance as there is innthe life of a gangster. The gangster’snlife is tougher, freer, and morenromantic—the gangster gets the prettyngirls.nThis remained a problem for crimenfilms for over three decades. Then,nwith the loosening of Hollywood’s ProductionnCode in the 60’s, along withnthe heady combination of freedom andnnihilism characteristic of Americannelite culture during the latter part ofnthat decade, Hollywood produced anspate of films explicitly glorifying criminalsnand extenuating or even excusingntheir behavior. Many filmmakers—nand most critics—saw American societynas too corrupt to have any right toncriticize the romantic rebels played bynPaul Newman, Robert Redford, WarrennBeatty, and Faye Dunaway in thisngroup of films released near the end ofnthe decade. Audiences were treated tonfilms like Bonnie and Clyde, whichnmourned the deaths of a pair of psychotic,nmurderous, armed robbers;nand Butch Cassidy and the Sundancen