Sunday, March 15, 2015

Founding Father

Founding Father, © 2015, is Arken Gallery's latest treatment. It's one of those "alternate history" movies, where there never was a manufactured American Civil Rights movement in the 1960s, and the Black Panther Party overthrew the government. No Vietnam War, no conflict with the Soviet Union, all the Kennedy conspirators are captured and publicly tried, Bill of Rights is restored, etc.

Anyway, we start with the main character, a rugged young white man named Chris Kyle who feels strangely out of place in a beautiful, peaceful society that leads the world by example. Kyle lives in a small town in central Ohio, but has a lot of national pride in his early years, because the small United States is closely allied to the Republic of Mexico and the Iroquois Confederacy, and allowed to use each nation's respective coastal waters. As he grows older, though, Kyle's grandfather tells Kyle that something is "wrong" with history, and that it all "went wrong during the 60s." Kyle initially scorns the old man's words, but as he grows older, he starts to notice other "historical aberrations." Through a local chapter of the New Klan Association, Kyle meets other young men who say that his grandfather wasn't crazy, and help him identify even more of these troubling aberrations.

During a montage of sweaty rock, Kyle is led around by an NKA Wizard to see the veil that has been pulled over his eyes all these years. He sees nothing but green meadows, waterfalls, and herds of deer and bison grazing where there should be vast prisons surrounded by barbed wire and electrical fences; he recoils in horror at the sight of a local Court building with an empty parking lot and no security guards, open only bi-weekly; he cries in pain when he sees a news broadcast announcing the arrest of a local man for plotting to bomb the Zomian delegation during its next visit to the United States.

The rock montage grows tearful, and over bluish and reddish pictures of Washington, Lincoln, Reagan, and Trump, the Wizard tells Kyle what the future is supposed to be like. At the Wizard's words, contrails streak the sky. Tears roll down Kyle's rugged cheek as he sees fleets of billion-dollar village-bombers practicing maneuvers over the wary shores of Virginia, Arizona, and Minnesota, guarding against potential military assault from Portugal, Mexico, or Canada. Kyle praises Jesus when he sees legions of union-free laborers constructing brick prisons in Chicago; when he watches skinhead Khazars ordering German Shepherds to maul the genitals of huddled prisoners; when he sees writhing women crawling with flies, dying in childbirth as they attempt to push out three-headed babies loaded with D-38.

"What can I do to restore this?" begs Kyle, clutching at the Wizard's red robes. "Tell me how! Tell me!"

The Wizard's cold blue eyes gleam down at him. "Perhaps you are the Chosen One," he said. "Perhaps..." He shifts his staff. "Come with me."

Digging back into history, Kyle finds out that the leaders of the BPP were supposed to have been assassinated quietly in staged killings during the time of the Kennedy assassination, and the Second American Revolution never to happen. The electoral college was never supposed to be abolished, and the federal presidency reduced to First Revolutionary levels; the heads of all federal agencies were not supposed to've been imprisoned, and the great universities and trusts broken up. America was supposed to have a real standing army like Greater London, and never to have repurchased 1/3 of its original land from the Iroquois Confederacy, but to've kept the whole post-Hawai'i coup territory! Kyle grows more and more excited as he sees images of bulldozers installing hundreds of sprawling minimalls across the grain freeholds of the central valley, millions of darkies rounded up into labor camps, and men shot in the head in their living rooms for having a joint.

"What can I do?" squeals Kyle. "Tell me, Grand Wizard, how I can correct the past?"

Armed with nothing but a time machine, a high-powered rifle, and balls the size of the twin towers, Chris puts on his white hood and travels back in time. He kills Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., John F. Kennedy, and John Lennon, preventing the continued momentum of racialist or sustained international marches against war, a silver-backed currency, and the shutdown of the nation's prison and school systems. Lurking beneath a camouflage net in the southern capitals, Kyle puts bullet after bullet into the heads of darkie after darkie, finishing the job that this timeline's version of the CIA couldn't handle on their own. Community movements still; police chiefs reassert control of the south; philandering Senators pass law after fresh law.

But then, something goes wrong (every shitty movie needs a twist after the twist): Chris returns to the future, and things are still the same! He meets with the Grand Wizard as before, but when he goes to the store, no one's heard of Monsanto! He grabs person after person, and, shocked at their curious smiles and willingness to help him, he finally learns, from a history student, about some environmental indictments decades ago. "Why?" Kyle wails to the Grand Wizard (played by a dour Donald Sutherland). "Why? I murdered everyone you told me to!"

Sutherland explains that, although the New Klan Association possesses time traveling technology, so does the current United States Government--and that time travelers from the other faction are trying to save the present. "Those sick bastards!" cries Kyle, flailing his arms, his enthusiasm causing him to accidentally kick Sutherland in the groin. "Then I'll just have to go back again, and finish what I started!"

"No!" cries Sutherland, as Kyle rushes toward the time portal. "It's too dangerous! There are still things we can do now, in this time!"

"You can keep your twisted fantasyland!" Kyle shrieks at the top of his lungs. "I'm going back...to save America!"

Sutherland reaches hopelessly after the portal as Kyle disappears. "You poor bastard," laments Donald. "There are too many of them."

Only the viewer is privileged enough to see the next montage: Sutherland living out his next several years, seemingly unaware of the changes taking place around him. Police sirens begin to fill the night air, and amazingly, no one seems to think it's out of the ordinary. The national map on the NKA's conference room wall grows larger day after day, as though the past is being rewritten in small ways. When the magnetic trains vanish, no one much seems to notice; cars whiz by, drugstores pop up like weeds, and people huddle into their houses, drinking and staring through the windows at an endless network of cracked asphalt, blaring signs, and scarred people getting driven away in flashing cars. All at once, Donald goes into work, and he's not in the NKA offices anymore, but just another military recruitment center in a run-down strip mall in a poor section of Pennsylvania. Viewers are amazed as Donald gets his coffee like normal without even seeming to realize the change. A solar zeppelin cross-national transport changes into a surveillance drone before the viewers' eyes, bringing a sob of gratitude from the audience.

At the very end of the movie, Sutherland lies in bed on the hundred and twelfth floor of a megacity hospital. The four other patients in his room are all terminal, too, and they're talking about the good old days: they talk about the World War VI news coverage, and about how the Greenland Parliament is full of a bunch of pussies who keep stalling the vote on the Populatory Melanin Reduction Act that the United Nations of America has already pre-approved anyway. But basically, things are okay, and when do we get to eat again? Tomorrow? Just take another hunger tablet, Your Wizardship. Nurse said you can have as much as you like.

That night, as Donald's head slips toward final unconsciousness, he sees a picture of a man on the wall who looks strangely familiar. Why does he have so much apprehension about something to do with that man? The thought slips away from him like a dream stolen out of time. There in the dim light of five televisions reflecting off the giant, 300-starred American flag looming from the ceiling, Donald gets a glimpse of a memory. At the very last instant, he remembers Chris Kyle, and his death is a happy one. You did it, you old sonofagun, he thinks, crying tears of joy. You saved us all. You truly were our Founding Father.

A Walmart Medical robot hurries into the room on its track to gather the patient's corpse into a disposal bag. The 1812 Overture (Lady Gaga remix) begins playing as credits roll.

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