"Mr.
Jones" 2019
A New
Film about a Forgotten Genocide Makes for Inspirational Viewing
Legendary
Polish director Agnieszka Holland has come out with a thoughtful, elegant new
film, "Mr. Jones," addressing the 1932-33 Ukrainian Holodomor, or
forced famine. I watch a lot of movies, and I've seen many addressing atrocity.
"Mr. Jones" wrecked me. I fought back sobs, and also the urge to
thrust my fist through the screen and destroy the film's slimy villains. Compared
to numerous other films addressing humanity's dark side, "Mr. Jones" depicts
virtually no onscreen gore. This is not atrocity porn. "Mr. Jones" is
two hours long, and yet scenes of the actual famine take up only about half an
hour – and it's a quiet, monochromatic half hour. This film most frequently
depicts well-dressed, well-fed people talking. With just that, Holland was able
to move me more deeply than many a more graphic film. In 2019, innovative horror
director Ari Aster released "Midsommer," shot almost entirely in
bright sunshine. Aster wanted to see if he could terrify people without
hackneyed jump scares in old, dark houses. Holland has done what Aster was
trying to do. "Mr. Jones" is a lowkey, polite, non-horror movie that
utterly horrified me.
Don't
get me wrong – you should see "Mr. Jones." The film offers you as
pure a depiction of heroism as you are likely to get from a movie this year. When
the film ended, my friend was more
exhilarated than depressed. He said that "sublime talent" and a
depiction of "complex events and the best and worst of humanity"
impressed him so much that he planned to watch "Mr. Jones" again, and
soon.
Historical
background
"All
animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others," George
Orwell wrote. Genocides are not equal, and some are certainly better known than
others. When I type "Holodomor," my spellcheck underlines the word in
red, as if it were unknown. I have to guess that most Americans have never even
heard of the Holodomor. This ignorance helps explain why so many
young Americans have a favorable view of communism, a negative view of
capitalism, and report that they are likely to vote socialist.
Their
view might change if they read just two short, horrifying articles. In 2011,
historian Timothy Snyder chewed over "Hitler
vs Stalin. Who Was Worse?" Ian Johnson's 2018 follow-up asked, "Who
Killed More? Hitler, Stalin, or Mao?"
If a
student or employee were to wear a swastika or Hitler t-shirt, that person
would be immediately ejected from class or the workplace. He might very well
find himself in court, a therapist's office, and on various watch lists, and he
would no doubt be abandoned by friends. Were that same person to wear a red
star, a
hammer and sickle or the likeness of Mao,
Che,
or Stalin,
on a t-shirt, he would likely face zero consequences. You can buy a hammer
and sickle cookie cutter, a
hammer and sickle refrigerator magnet, and hammer
and sickle vodka. The hammer and sickle makes a regular
appearance in graffiti at Black Lives Matter protests. BLM co-founder
Patrisse Cullors identifies herself and her comrades as "trained
Marxists." It's more than ironic that a movement that contains the
words "lives matter" follows Karl Marx. BLM has been granted an
imprimatur by the Democratic
Party. I wonder if, to Party leadership, 100
million lost lives matter worth a damn.
For
those unfamiliar with the Holodomor, the subject of "Mr. Jones," a
brief summary follows. Ukraine is located between traditionally autocratic
Russia and Western-looking, independence-minded, Catholic Poland. It contains
very fertile "black
earth;" it's one of those grain-producing regions known as a "bread basket."
Ukrainians have long been majority agriculturalists, that is, the kind of
people history runs over with chariots, boots, and tanks. After the 1917
Russian Revolution, that ended the reign of the czars, there was chaos in
Ukraine, and a massive peasant uprising. Many Ukrainians wanted their own
country. They were defeated by Russian communists, who imposed communism on
Ukraine, and incorporated it into the Russian-dominated USSR.
Beginning
in 1928, the USSR began a campaign of collectivization of agriculture.
Ukrainians resisted. For ten years, the USSR disseminated propaganda demonizing
so-called "kulaks,"
or successful farmers. Lenin described kulaks as "bloodsuckers, vampires,
plunderers of the people and profiteers, who fatten on famine." In
propaganda posters, kulaks were depicted as immensely fat and greedy monsters
who withheld grain from starving Russians: see here, here,
here,
and here.
This propaganda campaign demanded, and paved the way for, the "liquidation"
of the kulaks.
The
killers often knew their victims. Even
so, as Ukraine-born, Jewish author Vasily Grossman
reported,
"They would threaten people with
guns, as if they were under a spell, calling small children 'kulak bastards,'
screaming 'bloodsuckers!'… They had sold themselves on the idea that so-called 'kulaks'
were pariahs, untouchables, vermin. They would not sit down at a 'parasite's'
table; the 'kulak' child was loathsome, the young 'kulak' girl was lower than a
louse … [kulaks were] cattle, swine, loathsome, repulsive; they had no souls,
they stank, they all had venereal diseases, they were enemies of the people and
exploited the labor of others … there was no pity for them. They were not human
beings … they were vermin."
Grossman
was with the Red Army's westward advance. He entered Treblinka in July, 1944.
He wrote the
first article ever published about a Nazi death camp. He remarked
on similarities between Nazism's treatment of Jews and communism's
treatment of kulaks.
As a
twenty-one-year-old, Lev
Kopelev participated in the destruction of the kulaks. He
later explained the communist brainwashing that enabled his brutality.
"I mustn't give in to debilitating
pity. We were realizing historical necessity. We were performing our
revolutionary duty. We were obtaining grain for the socialist fatherland … our
great goal was the universal triumph of Communism, and for the sake of that
goal everything was permissible – to lie, to steal, to destroy hundreds of
thousands and even millions of people, all those who were hindering our work or
could hinder it … and to hesitate about all this was to give in to 'intellectual
squeamishness' and 'stupid liberalism,' the attribute of people who 'could not
see the forest for the trees.'"
Indeed,
Soviets eventually sentenced Kopelev to ten years in the Gulag for "bourgeois
humanism" and "compassion for the enemy."
Collectivization
went very wrong very fast. Stalin knew that famine was on the horizon. He could
have, as historian Anne
Applebaum points out, asked for international aid. Stalin did not ask for aid;
he did not want the world to know that communism was failing. Stalin could have
stopped grain exports. He did not stop exports; those exports paid for his
construction of heavy industry. He wanted the world to be impressed by
communism's gains. In autumn of 1932, the Soviet Politburo made the fateful decisions
that signed a death warrant for millions of Ukrainians. They drew a cordon
around Ukraine, prohibiting Ukrainian peasants from leaving the republic, and even
forbidding them from going into Ukrainian cities. Teams of Communist Party
activists went from house to house and removed all food, including pets. They
also took money and clothes. Communists are nothing if not hypocritical. They
also set up 1,500 shops around Ukraine where people traded wedding rings and
czarist-era coins and medals for porridge, flour, and potatoes. This shakedown-at-gunpoint
became, as Applebaum explains, "A crucial factor in Soviet international
trade."
On another
front in the war against Ukrainian identity and the very bodies of kulaks, the
Soviet secret police carried out a campaign against anyone in Ukraine capable
of leading any kind of national movement. Priests, teachers, museum
curators, writers, and artists were "vilified, jailed, sent to a labor
camp." Churches were destroyed. A
letter was removed from the alphabet to make Ukrainian more like Russian. After
mass death emptied out Ukrainian villages, ethnic Russians were moved into
them.
Rafal
Lemkin, the Polish-Jewish lawyer who coined the term "genocide,"
said that what Communist Russia did to Ukraine was the "classic example."
"the Ukrainian peasantry was
sacrificed...a famine was necessary for the Soviet and so they got one to
order... if the Soviet program succeeds completely, if the intelligentsia, the
priest, and the peasant can be eliminated [then] Ukraine will be as dead as if
every Ukrainian were killed, for it will have lost that part of it which has
kept and developed its culture, its beliefs, its common ideas, which have
guided it and given it a soul, which, in short, made it a nation... This is not
simply a case of mass murder. It is a case of genocide, of the destruction, not
of individuals only, but of a culture and a nation."
The Soviet Union participated
in crafting the internationally recognized legal definition of the word "genocide."
The USSR was careful not to allow that definition to encompass its own crimes.
Rather, the USSR wanted Nazi Germany to occupy the dock in the "genocide"
courtroom.
The
Ukrainians faced not just the enemy in Moscow. They also faced the enemy in the
United States. Walter
Duranty was the New York Times Moscow bureau chief from 1922-1936.
For articles misleading the public about Stalin and communism, Duranty won the 1932
Pulitzer Prize. The Nation, a progressive publication, said
at the time that Duranty's work constituted "the most enlightened, dispassionate
dispatches from a great nation in the making which appeared in any newspaper in
the world." In spite of much protest, Duranty's prize has
not been revoked.
Duranty's
Holodomor denial is not a deservedly extinct species from a distastefully
primitive, less evolved era. There are still powerful, scoffing voices. Grover Furr still
has a page at Montclair State University. Furr calls the Holodomor a "myth,"
a "fiction" and a "fascist
lie," for example in this YouTube video. Furr
dismisses Ukrainians as right-wing Nazi collaborators and anti-Semites whose
only interest is in denying the Holocaust and justifying Ukrainian murder of
Poles. Collectivization, Furr insists, stopped famines.
In
1988, the Village
Voice ran a nasty, lengthy piece by Jeff Coplon smearing
Ukrainians as Nazi collaborators and "fascists," and denying the
famine as a "fraud." The only reason anyone would mention the
Holodomor is because their goal is "a denial of Hitler's holocaust against
the Jews." Any account of the famine is "slanted," "right-wing,"
"biased," "rumor," "fraud" and "spin." "Premier
Sovietologists dismiss" any talk of famine. Coplon quotes scholars from
several universities.
Yes,
leftists suppress discussion of the Holodomor. There are other reasons it is
less well known. The Holodomor occurred a decade before the Holocaust. For a
variety of reasons, the Holocaust receives more attention. Germany is in the
center of Europe, not on its eastern periphery. For a long time, Germany was
the ancestral homeland of the largest number of Americans. Germany produces
superstars, from Beethoven to Goethe to Einstein to Marlene Dietrich. Germans
were obsessive record creators and there is a crushing supply of photos, film
footage, and written documents of the Holocaust. There is no such mountain of
documentation of the Holodomor. Too, German Nazis managed, in a few short
years, to reduce the European population of Jews by over sixty percent. Depending on how
death tolls are calculated, the Holodomor claimed between 3.9 and ten
million lives. There were still tens of millions of Ukrainians after the
genocide.
As
Agnieszka Holland herself has remarked, starvation is a humiliating way to die.
Nazi efficiency, the gas chambers, and the ovens exert morbid fascination.
Huddled peasants taking weeks to breathe their last breaths, watching their and
their children's eyes sink in their sockets, bellies swell, skin sag, all this
in cold huts in remote villages, is a very different phenomenon. Such deaths
are, perhaps, the ultimate expression of human vulnerability and helplessness.
As mighty as we think we are, without items as humble as potatoes and lard, we
disappear. Then there is the added problem of cannibalism. Some Ukrainians did
go mad and did eat their own children. According
to one source, 2,500 people were convicted of cannibalism.
Anne
Applebaum told an
interviewer that researching the Holodomor was "unedifying" and
more difficult than her previous work on the Gulag. In Gulag memoirs, she
encountered those who managed, spiritually, to transcend their unjust
imprisonment. She found no such material about the Holodomor. Instead, she
describes searing scenes, for example, a
communist kicking a starving fifteen-year-old Ukrainian girl to death. When
onlookers began to cry, he berated them. "Some are getting too sentimental
here. It is easy to spot enemies of the people."
There
is another reason why some might not want to extend compassion to Ukrainians –
very complicated history. For hundreds of years, beginning in the Middle Ages, Ukraine
was controlled by Poland. Polish nobles and Jewish managers exploited Ukrainian
peasants. This exploitation was remarked upon by Nathan Hannover,
a seventeenth-century Jewish historian who survived a Cossack attack. Hannover
remarked that Ukrainians
were "slaves" to Poles and Jews,
who meted out "cruel treatment." Ukrainians rose up against Poles and
Jews in the 1648 Chmielnicki
Uprising. During this uprising, Ukrainians committed atrocities. In the
twentieth century, during
post-revolutionary chaos, some Ukrainians carried out pogroms that killed
tens of thousands of Jews. During the Nazi occupation, Ukrainians
massacred approximately 100,000 Poles and tens
of thousands of others collaborated with the Nazis. When mentioning Nazi collaborators,
one must add that 4.5
million Ukrainians fought against the Nazis in the Red Army.
For
not a few Jews, and Poles as
well, Ukrainians are bad guys. Poles may tell Ukrainian
jokes. Jews sometimes refer to Chmielnicki as Hitler
before Hitler. Ukrainians are assigned the villain role in perhaps the most
popular cultural product touching on Eastern Europe, the stage and screen
classic, "Fiddler on the Roof." Eliyana Adler, a teacher of Eastern
European Jewish history, writing in the Forward,
sums up how Ukrainians are too often stereotyped. "In the mythical
Anatevka of stage and screen, the only Ukrainians we see are drunk pogromchiki.
Arguably our simplified version of the past is even worse than theirs … we have
made them into the enemy."
One
of my friends, John Guzlowski,
comes from a Polish family that was horribly victimized by Ukrainian killers
during World War II. I can condemn killers and torturers and yet recognize that
they do not represent the entire nation. Right now is as good a time as any for
all of us to transcend ancient hatreds. Not every Pole was an arrogant and
oppressive nobleman. Not every Jew was a greedy exploiter. Not every peasant
was a brutal sadist. They were all human beings, just like us, struggling for
survival in a rigid, virtual caste system none of them invented. Each group
produced wrongdoers. Each produced heroes. There were too many innocent victims
in each. Now is the right time for us to feel compassion for those innocent
victims, no matter their ethnicity.
Soviet
dissident, Israeli politician and author Natan Sharansky was
born in Ukraine. He and his co-author, historian Gil Troy, make an
eloquent argument for mutual tolerance in spite of past wrongs in a July,
29, 2020 essay, and they use a Ukrainian statue to Chmielnicki as a case study in
such tolerance.
"Mr.
Jones" The Movie
"Mr.
Jones" is an engaging film because it's about the title character: Gareth Jones,
a real man, and a real hero. He's played by James Norton, a
tall, handsome, charismatic actor. In the same way that Gareth Jones charms
Soviets into doing what he wants, Norton, the powerful actor, charms the
audience into following Jones into Hell.
The
film opens with a hypnotic view of abundant wheat, swaying and crackling in the
wind and sun. There are hogs feeding, aggressively. We hear their snorts and
look into their eyes. We are forced to think about food, our need, and
survival.
The first
character onscreen is George Orwell. He's writing "Animal Farm,"
whose main human character is Mr. Jones. There is speculation, but only
speculation, that Orwell may have chosen this name in honor of Gareth Jones.
Orwell bemoans his fate. Why is he writing a political book, one he will have
trouble publishing? Why doesn't he write romance novels? One guesses that
screenwriter Andrea Chalupa and director Agnieszka Holland may be asking
themselves this question. Why try to tell the story of the Holodomor?
Gareth
Jones is in his twenties, but he's in a hurry to make his mark upon the world.
He's the son of a school teacher from Barry, Wales. In his own hometown, a
childhood friend says to him, "We thought you would have been prime
minster by now." In the wider world, Jones is a small town boy without
credentials. He travels to Germany and through sheer audacity manages to share
a plane with Hitler. Back home, he tries to tell colleagues of former prime
minster David Lloyd George that war is coming. Jones is laughed out of the
room. This is the first of many times that Jones is dismissed, laughed at, and
taken as a rube. And then he's fired. "You need me," Jones tells his
boss. "I'm the only one who tells you the truth." Maybe that's why he
was fired.
Jones
never mopes; this unemployed twenty-eight-year-old moves on to his next
obsession: Stalin. How is Stalin paying for the industrialization of his
five-year plan, during the depths of a worldwide depression? Is communism the
miracle its supporters insist it is? Jones finagles a hard-to-obtain journalist
visa to Moscow.
I
just used the English word "finagle" but inside my head a voice keeps
repeating, "No, the real words are 'zalatwic'
and 'kombinowac.'"
These two words encapsulated daily life in the Soviet Empire. Nothing was
possible, rational, or fair. To get things done, those living under communism
had to learn how to break rules, make connections, and pull rabbits out of hats.
In that, Jones has experience. He's young, he's from a humble family in the
provinces, and he's smarter than the stuffed shirts who laughed at his
predictions about Hitler and war. A spunky underdog, he will amp up his
finagling to outwit communism. To get a visa, to get a hotel room, and to get
to Ukraine all require the craftiness and boldness of a folklore hero. "Gareth
Jones was almost an Icarus-type character, who knew how close to the sun he was
flying, but couldn't seem to resist the temptation to expose tyrannical abuse
of power," said one of
his biographers.
Once
in Moscow, Jones meets Walter Duranty. Peter Sarsgaard, in an
Academy-Award-worthy performance, milks every droplet of evil from this
creature, like a
snake handler milking venom from a cobra. Sarsgaard is, by turns, as
contemptuous as Nero, buck naked at a heroin-fueled orgy, and revealing the
sweaty stink of fear. Scriptwriter Andrea Chalupa, who says
she was inspired by her Ukrainian grandfather, admits that the film could have
been much crueler to Duranty. She's correct. Allegations against Duranty
include necrophilia.
Why did Duranty lie? Perhaps because he was being blackmailed by the Soviets,
holding him hostage with his sexual proclivities. Duranty was an occasional sex
partner of occultist Aleister Crowley, who self-identified as "The Beast
666." Crowley wrote poetry
in praise of necrophilia.
The
reason for Duranty's perfidy may be more prosaic. The Soviets gave him an
apartment, a driver, and daily deliveries of fresh caviar. He was famous
and feted. During the Depression, people were craving a miracle cure. Stalin
seemed to be providing one. Duranty was Stalin's court praise poet. They both
sold to the world the shiny Utopian trinket the world wanted to buy.
Duranty
lost his leg to gangrene. The film's Duranty carries a cane tipped with a white
rabbit, visually similar to John Tenniel's depictions of the
white rabbit in "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." Like that
white rabbit, Duranty is a guide to an upside world: communist Russia. Also
like that white rabbit, he is a contrast to the main character. Lewis Carroll
wrote that Alice, like Gareth Jones, was young, audacious, vigorous, and
possessed swift directness of purpose, while the white rabbit was Alice's
opposite. Like Duranty, he is pompous toward underlings and groveling and
obsequious to superiors.
Duranty
insists that the Soviets are working miracles. Jones suggests that they are
deranged. "What is deranged in a deranged world?" Duranty asks,
expressing his own moral relativism, which contrasts with Jones' insistence on
truth as the absolute value.
Ada
Brooks (a fictional, composite character, played by Vanessa Kirby) is Durante's
beautiful, young protegee. She and Jones spend the night talking. Ada is
clearly torn. Unlike Duranty, she could still be brought over to the good side.
She asks Jones what his agenda is.
"I
don't have an agenda," he insists. "I am a journalist. The most noble
profession. Loyal only to truth. Unless you call truth an agenda."
Ada
scoffs. "Whose truth?"
"There
is only one truth," he replies.
"That
is so naïve." We want to like her, but she's sounding too Duranty. She
tells us her backstory. Her story is a microcosm of what is happening on the world
stage. One must choose: Hitler or Stalin. "I grew up in Berlin," she
says, remarking on how free and modern Berlin was. "The Nazis destroyed
everything so quickly. I'm afraid for my friends. They're arresting everyone in
the Communist Party. We have to succeed."
"You
sound like you work for Stalin," he protests.
"I
don't believe in Stalin," she says, earnestly. "I believe in a
movement that is bigger than any one person There are cycles of history just
like there are cycles of nature. We have a chance to fight for the future for
the real people, the workers. This movement is bigger than any one of us."
She argues that even if people have to be killed for communism to succeed, it's
worth it.
"Do
you hear yourself?" he asks.
A
Soviet minder, Leonid (Oleg Drach) accompanies Jones on his trip to Ukraine,
ostensibly to visit a factory showcasing communism's economic miracles. Alas,
many Western viewers will not grasp the significance of Leonid's scenes. He
eats with gusto on the train. He boasts how much communism has improved his
life and the life of his family. His home is full of food. Real food, he
emphasizes. His daughters go to the movies for free. Life is beautiful now. The
Party takes care of all of our needs. Leonid drinks much vodka and falls
asleep. Jones gives Leonid the slip. After Leonid awakes and discovers that
Jones has escaped, the look on Leonid's face is devastating. He knows his life
is effectively over, and his wife and daughters will suffer, too.
The
movie Jones, as the real Jones did, traverses famine-struck Ukraine on foot.
There is heavy snow. The film stock is now desaturated, almost black and white.
An exception: Jones attempts to eat an orange. The orange's color is true. He
tosses the peel to the ground. Starving Ukrainians lunge at the peel. This is based
on a real incident from Jones' journals. The scene calls to mind "Schindler's
List." In that black-and-white Holocaust film, there is only one touch of
color. The red of a
little girl's coat.
One
of the stations of the cross in Jones' pilgrimage to famine-struck Ukraine is a
very quiet, five-minute scene involving a child named Kolya. There is no gore;
there is no screaming; no soundtrack violins pull at the heartstrings. The
scene broke my heart and I will never forget it.
Jones
returns to the West, and tries, again, as he did after his plane trip with
Hitler, to tell the truth.
"The
Soviet Union is not the worker's paradise," Jones says. "It is not
the great experiment that you read about in the press. Stalin has no stunning
new achievement unless you consider killing millions of innocent people an
achievement. If we let him get away with this manmade famine, there will be
others like him."
"What
about the free schools and the free hospitals?" he is asked.
"At
what cost?" he replies.
"A
more egalitarian society does exist, but not perfectly. Experiments take
time."
"An
egalitarian society?" Jones scoffs. "It's the same system of exploitation
that exists here, only it's worse. Unimaginably worse. I know what I saw.
Stalin is not the man you think he is."
"Are
you saying there's no hope?"
Jones
is, again, shut down. Duranty is a star; Jones is a non-entity who is stealing
people's hope. He moves back in with his father and is mocked by local
children. Eventually he finagles – there's that word again – a meeting with
William Randolph Hearst, who publishes his work. That
same year, 1935, Jones will be killed in Mongolia, probably by a Soviet agent. With
time, Jones is forgotten, and the Holodomor, once a coverup, becomes a
non-story, a word that spellchecks underline in red. Walter Duranty is shown
receiving a standing ovation at the White House. His advice has convinced FDR
to recognize the Soviet Union. And, yes, that did happen in real life.
Jones'
obscure fate may help us to understand why Orwell is included in this movie.
Jones' work on the Holodomor didn't get far or last long, but it did reach some
readers. It's possible that one of those readers was Orwell himself. Orwell,
through the disguised truth of a "fairy story" ("Animal
Farm's" original subtitle) managed to tell, to millions of readers, the tale
of the hunger and rot at the heart of a false Utopia.
Danusha
Goska is the author of God
through Binoculars: A Hitchhiker at a Monastery
You
can see this essay at Front Page Magazine here
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