He Caught Her

So why did you film them? 

Because Americans worship technology. It’s an inherent trait in the national zeitgeist. Whether we realize it or not, even the most indefatigable Luddite can’t deny our country’s technoprowess. 

We split the atom, we reached the moon, we’ve filled every household and business with more gadgets and gizmos than early sci-fi writers could have ever dreamed of. 

I don’t know if that’s a good thing, I’m in no place to judge. 

But I do know that just like all those ex-atheists in foxholes, most Americans were still praying for the God of science to save them. 

But it didn’t. 

But it didn’t matter. 

The movie was such a hit that I was asked to do a whole series. I called it “Wonder Weapons,” seven films on our military’s cutting-edge technology, none of which made any strategic difference, but all of which were psychological war winners. 

Isn’t that . . .

A lie? It’s okay. You can say it. 

Yes, they were lies and sometimes that’s not a bad thing. 

Lies are neither bad nor good. 

Like a fire they can either keep you warm or burn you to death, depending on how they’re used. 

The lies our government told us before the war, the ones that were supposed to keep us happy and blind, those were the ones that burned, because they prevented us from doing what had to be done. 

However, by the time I made Avalon, everyone was already doing everything they could possibly do to survive. 

The lies of The Past were long gone and now The Truth was everywhere, shambling down their streets, crashing through their doors, clawing at their throats. 

The Truth was that no matter what we did, chances were most of us, if not all of us, were never going to see The Future. 

The Truth was that we were standing at what might be the twilight of our species and that truth was freezing a hundred people to death every night. They needed something to keep them warm. 

And so I lied, and so did the president, and every doctor and priest, every platoon leader and every parent. 

“We’re going to be okay.” 

That was our message. 

That was the message of every other filmmaker during The War. Did you ever hear of The Hero City? 

Of course. 

Great film, right? Marty made it over the course of the Siege. Just him, shooting on whatever medium he could get his hands on. 

What a masterpiece: the courage, the determination, the strength, dignity, kindness, and honor. 

It really makes you believe in the human race. 

It’s better than anything I’ve ever done. You should see it. 

I have. 

Which version? 

I’m sorry? 

Which version did you see? 

I wasn’t aware . . . 

That there were two? You need to do some homework, young man. Marty made both a wartime and postwar version of The Hero City. The version you saw, it was ninety minutes? 

I think. 

Did it show the dark side of the heroes in The Hero City? 

Did it show the violence and the betrayal, the cruelty, the depravity, the bottomless evil in some of those “heroes’ ” hearts? 

No, of course not. Why would it? 

That was our reality and it’s what drove so many people to get snuggled in bed, blow out their candles, and take their last breath. 

Marty chose, instead, to show the other side, the one that gets people out of bed the next morning, makes them scratch and scrape and fight for their lives because someone is telling them that they’re going to be okay. 

There’s a word for that kind of lie. 

Hope.