Why the backlash to Meryl Streep's speech is way off the mark

Before I weigh in on the substance of what Meryl Streep said at the Golden Globes last night I want to take a look at how President-elect Donald Trump and his top advisor Kellyanne Conway reacted. Keep in mind, the future Commander-in-Chief initially claimed not to have even watched her speech, in which she disputed the notion that Hollywood performers are somehow un-American and criticized Trump's infamous imitation of a disabled reporter earlier last year.

Trump first pointed out that Streep was a Clinton supporter and then went on to highlight that fact that many of the prominent figures in attendance at the Globes are "liberal movie people." In other words, because they have fundamental political differences with him, their opinions have no value.

Later, our future president went on Twitter to attack Streep even more personally, and label a woman widely recognized as the greatest actress of her generation as "over-rated."

Conway's reaction, was even more explicit:

Well my initial reaction is I’m glad that Meryl Streep has such a passion for the disabled, because I didn’t hear her weigh in and I didn’t hear her even use her platform last night to give a shout out to the mentally challenged boy, who last week was tortured live on Facebook for half an hour by four young African-American adults, who were screaming racial and anti-Trump expletives and forcing him to put his head in toilet water. So I’d like to hear from her today if she wants to come and continue her platform on behalf of the disabled and Donald Trump is absolutely right he has debunked this so many times ... she sounds like 2014. The election is over. She lost and he’s absolutely right about something else too, which is everybody in that audience—with very few exceptions—was of a single myopic mind as to how they wanted the election to go and how they expected the election to go.

Not only is this answer a rather inartful bit of race-baiting -- but it is also troubling on a number of fronts. Conway seems to suggest that since Streep did not speak to any and all acts of disrespect for the disabled that her remarks are somehow less credible. She also doubles down on an assertion, wildly popular with some Trump supporters, that because the election is "over" and Streep's side "lost," that she has no business expressing her political views, and certainly not in a public forum.

Had Trump narrowly lost instead of narrowly won (contrary to his claims of a blowout, his victory was assured by roughly 80,000 voters in just three states), it's hard to believe that he and his supporters would have immediately acquiesced to the results and remained silent.

But regardless, as Republican Sen. John Cornyn said today, Streep, like any other American citizen, is entitled to express herself, and not be attacked for it.

The reason Streep's speech was so powerful was the it made plain a reality that some Americans simply don't want to accept -- that Hollywood and liberals are part of this country, too. And the reason the 'imitation' of the disabled reporter still resonates, is that it was such a blatant example of how cruel we are capable of being if we eschew empathy -- a quality that great art often aspires to evoke.

You don't have to like Streep or even what she said, but as an American you ought to support her right to say it. And if you think you don't like what she said, it's worth exploring exactly what she said that was particularly galling to you.

She simply elevated the very human and complicated histories of people in that room, and dared to suggest that even though they may enjoy elite status now they may not all have had auspicious beginnings and now have dedicated themselves to our entertainment and enrichment.

Are there people who contribute more to society? Obviously. And of course, there are those who will understandably see any speech at any awards show delivered by any celebrity as inherently self serving and obnoxious.

But the backlash Streep is already receiving in some circles is a sad testament to how warped people's perceptions have become of free speech and how easily even our most talented and intelligent professionals can be vilified, simply for being true to themselves.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 12: Why we are scared of 'Fear'

My wife Elizabeth Rosado and I are back with our "Never Seen It" podcast -- and in this episode we take on the Mark Wahlberg-Reese Witherspoon thriller Fear.

I don't know  if it's quite fair to call this a cult classic, I'm not sure it's that beloved. But twenty years and some change since it first came out, it does appear to have hung around in the minds of a lot of viewers.

This is definitely one of the most ludicrous movies we've done to date -- I had to break out my notebook for this one -- but I think it's a fun back and forth between Liz and I, since neither of us had ever seen it before and discussed it for the first time here:

'Hidden Figures': A crowd-pleaser with the audacity to be sweet

There is bit of a maddening genre of Hollywood movies that attempt to portray inspirational stories on the subject of race. They tend to be very well-intentioned, and even sometimes boast powerhouse performances, but more often than not they collapse under the weight of their own self-congratulatory self-importance -- think The Butler, or The Help.

When I first heard about Hidden Figures -- which pays homage to the tireless work of three, largely unknown African-American women who were vital members of the team at NASA in the early days of the space program -- I was intrigued, but also wary. Was this going to be another cheesy civil rights highlights film?

Now, having seen Hidden Figures, I can safely say it is not. Sure, it is a very sweet movie, even arguably a sentimental one, but it also doesn't condescend to its audience, it's very well acted and its gives so-called "feel good movies" a good name.

The movie looks great, sounds great (thanks to a buoyant soundtrack featuring Pharrell), but what really makes this very enjoyable film soar is its performances.

Taraji P. Henson finally gets a lead role worthy of her talents here. Although she has the least flashy role of the three stars, she is incredibly sympathetic, warm and believable. Octavia Spencer turns in yet another one her solid, stirring turns. But for me the real find here is singer Janelle Monae, who in this film and earlier in Moonlight, really lights up the screen and proves to be a formidable actress. She seems poised to be a real movie star, as long as Hollywood wakes up and takes notice.

Also, I can't say enough by how much I appreciated Kevin Costner's supporting work here. Unlike some films that purport to be about black characters but shoehorn a white lead in to placate audiences (again, The Help), Costner's role is very clearly in the background here. But, he is riveting in a part that should remind audiences of why he was once a leading A-list movie star, and a truly underrated, naturalistic actor.

And while the film itself certainly isn't groundbreaking from a filmmaking perspective, the story itself is so intriguing and illuminating that its high points feel well-earned and truly touching. There are no mustache-twirling, over-the-top racist villains here.

Instead, the film wisely and subtly portrays the kind of benevolent, passive-aggressive bigotry that these women experienced because they were black and because they were women. And their victories, while compelling, were small in the grand scheme of things.

Of course, I have no idea how accurate the movie is -- there are moments that feel a little too cinematic to be true, but I've always felt the best biopics make you want to go out and learn more about the subject matter on which they're based, and that certainly in the case with Hidden Figures.

I left this movie with a smile on my face and a song in my heart -- and the conviction that this film deserves to be a hit. If it ultimately is, and it ought to be since it truly is as good as mass appeal dramas get -- it will be a great blueprint for how 20th Century-set historical films can be, and proof that stories headlined by women of color need not be whitewashed.

'Jackie' is a beautiful portrait of a formidable first lady

Last year I praised the under-seen Danny Boyle film Steve Jobs for revitalizing a genre that had become tiresome and predictable -- the biopic -- and now the new film Jackie builds on that film's promise, by presenting a gorgeous pastiche centered on former first lady and cultural icon Jackie Kennedy.

This was a film that could have been crude and exploitative -- it takes place largely in the immediate aftermath of President John F. Kennedy's assassination -- but instead of dwelling on the more morbid aspects of that tragedy, the movie is more of a tribute to a powerful woman's resolve and intuition.

This knockout of a movie has already got me wanting to revise my top 10 list for 2016, and it has also restored my faith in potential of Natalie Portman, as actress who can be mercurial with her choices from time to time, but I can't think of anyone better suited for this film and role.

With Black Swan I thought she was reaching a new peak of performance, allowing her pristine facade to bend and break in new and exciting ways. But then, inexplicably she opted for paycheck roles in movies like Friends With Benefits and Thor, and her tendency to deliver wooden work (as evidenced by the Star Wars prequels) threatened to undermine some of the good will she'd started to engender, even from skeptics.

I am happy to see her back in fighting form in Jackie, a high wire act that requires incredible poise, vocal control and intensely emotional heavy lifting. Part of the reason this film succeeds is that it avoids so many pitfalls it could have easily stumbled into (and that other recent films about the Cold War era, *cough* J. Edgar *cough*, have).

Instead of camp and cliche, we get a very raw, believable portrayal of Jackie Kennedy. I am not sure how accurate the film is, and I don't really care. As pure storytelling, this movie is assured -- at its best moments it conjures up memories of a Terrence Malick tone poem. My only quibble is a framing device of a print interview that smacks of a more traditional movie.

But on the whole this is a viscerally satisfying movie and a thought-provoking one. Not since Oliver Stone's much more histrionic (and yet, still genius in my mind) JFK, has a film better captured the promise and the disappointment inherent in the Kennedy mystique.

And the film also is slyly feminist and liberating for the former first lady, who comes across as far more flinty and astute behind closed doors than the public perhaps ever gave her credit for.

Without a doubt, this is a real comeback for Natalie Portman, who almost certainly will be in the Best Actress race this year. And I think after watching it, I will never view the Kennedys or Jackie the same way again.

I'm back! Here's my tentative top 10 list for 2016 movies

Despite some very unsettling and disappointing developments in my life and the world at large over the past twelve months -- it was a truly fantastic year for cinema.

I saw several movies that deeply touched me, felt fresh and invigorating, and there are still many worthy works that I haven't had a chance to see yet.

So this is, at best, a tentative list, a snapshot of where my head is at right now at this particularly moment. For instance, I am seeing Jackie tomorrow -- which as a history buff and Kennedy fanatic -- I really expect to enjoy.

There's also Silence, which by virtue of the fact that it's made by my favorite filmmaker -- Martin Scorsese -- is high up on my list. I desperately want to see the James Baldwin documentary I Am Not Your Negro, and I could go and on.

I could also construct a very long list of movies that I adored this year that just barely missed the cut or got squeezed out at the last second by something I've seen more recently. I'd be remiss if I didn't give shout outs to the wonderful throwback action comedy The Nice Guys, the great chiller 10 Cloverfield Lane, the new stoner classic Keanu, one of the best blockbusters -- Captain America: Civil War -- and The Neon Demon, which was over-the-top in the best way.

I have some more close calls, also rans, and honorable mentions. 2016 was just that good. And in my top 10 I have one cheat tie, only because the film's themes are so interwoven. But without further caveats, here is my top 10:

10)  The Fits - I just saw this unique and documentary-like coming of age story, so it's still sitting with me. At just 72 minutes, it could have been slight, but instead this at-times-ominous portrait of a young tomboy making inroads into the drill team world is a visual tour de force and a really strong statement from its director, Anna Rose Holmer. It's a hard movie to describe or pin down, but I will say it's a unique and fascinating viewing experience. And it is also the third film in my top 10 not to feature a single white cast member. More on that later.

9) Don't Breathe - This movie really took me, and I suspect a lot of audiences and critics, by surprise. We have all seen home invasion thrillers and yet this one felt so intense and riveting from start to finish. The premise (the 'victim' is blind) seemed so simple I can't believe someone hadn't thought of it before. Plus, the choice to have our loyalties shift and fluctuate lent real gravitas to what otherwise could have been a fun B-movie. In a really strong year for genre films, this one was among the best.

8) Hunt for the Wilderpeople - I don't think I laughed harder at any film this year than this wacky adventure out of New Zealand, which pairs a grizzled mountain man with a funky know-it-all, hip-hop loving kid (the rotund and adorable Julian Dennison in one of my favorite performances of the year, hands down). Another film which avoids the cuddly cliches, and whose offbeat humor is note perfect. I never was quite sure where this movie was going, but it really has a lot of heart and a wonderful sense of fun about it.

7) Hell or High Water - Although this crime film came out earlier in the season, it has stubbornly hung around, in part because it feels very timely and realistic. It shares some of the same DNA as No Country for Old Men, but perhaps stripped a little of that films existentialist flair. It's a bit of western, mixed with a bank heist movie, but it also really has something to say about communities in the heartland that have been fleeced over several decades and have never quite recovered. A film far more sophisticated than it appears to be on the surface.

6) La La Land - I wanted to hate this movie and I suspect many people will -- but I found myself succumbing to its sense of infectious joy. This movie is an unapologetic valentine to Hollywood and old fashioned movie-making and it's a fun romp from its bravura opening sequence to its final one. I can't help but feel its multicultural utopia seems better suited for an America where Hillary Clinton was president or when Barack Obama still was, but the charm of Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone is irresistible when all is said and done.

5) 13th/OJ: Made in America - Two flawless documentaries approaching issues of race and the criminal justice system from very different yet totally profound perspectives. Ava DuVernay's 13th is righteous in its anger at decades of both political parties passing the buck on a prison industrial complex which exploits and dehumanizes people of color at an alarmingly disproportionate rate. It's the movie that will make you want to write your Congressman. O.J.: Made in America, the multi-part opus on not just the infamous murder case but the culture of L.A. and the media that were integral to it, may force you to look inward and wonder why we like to chew up celebrities and then spit them out.

4) Rogue One - I have come to accept the fact that any new Star Wars film will come with quibbles from diehard fans, and some are legit with Rogue One, a sidebar story looking at how the Death Star plans were stolen prior to a A New Hope. Still, for me, this was a remarkable feat of mainstream sci-fi movie making. Visually flawless -- with the last 20 minutes ranking among the saga's best -- it made me feel like a little kid all over again. With this and The Force Awakens, we now finally have a prequel-proof supermajority of Star Wars films, with the two latest serving as perfect bookends to the original trilogy. I now feel certain that the legacy of those three masterpieces is in good hands with the folks at Disney.

3) Green Room - When I first watched this bloody, gritty thriller months ago I knew it would be in my top 10 and maybe be at the top (it remained there a long time). This one brought me back to the Pulp Fiction days, where you are watching a filmmaker at the top of their game, with material that is relentless and breathtakingly original. Oddly prescient, this movie about a punk band being terrorized by white supremacists, never got much of an audience when it was released but I am convinced will become a cult classic, thanks in part to the lead performance of the late Anton Yelchin and the truly scary one from Patrick Stewart as his nemesis.

2) Fences - I was just emotionally pulverized by this movie. And as a huge, lifelong Denzel Washington fan, this movie (based on the acclaimed August Wilson play of the same name) felt like the culmination of all his prior work. Although he remains one of our most endearing movie stars, he strips himself bare of all vanity here and delivers a volcanic, lived-in performance as a fundamentally damaged, but in denial, man. And the invaluable Viola Davis (who deserves every award possible for this performance) matches him step by step with a heartbreaking portrayal of his long-suffering wife. This is dramatic acting of the first order in a film that bowls you over with its simple elegance. It also (like my #1 film) features only people of color, and in doing so, shows that working class angst is not just the dominion of whites; it is universal.

1) Moonlight - When the credits rolled on Moonlight, I vividly remember telling my wife, "Well, that was a masterpiece." It's another difficult film to quantify -- it feels alive in every frame. Yes, it's nominally a coming-of-age story told in triptych form, but that doesn't do it justice either since I have never seen a character study quite like this. Yes, it has an LGBT theme, which feels relevant and even urgent right now, but it's also gorgeous to look at and listen to and the acting ensemble (made mostly of newcomers and rising stars) is peerless. It was without a doubt the best movie of the year, regardless of what the Oscars say.

UPDATE: My revised top 10: 1) Moonlight 2) I Am Not Your Negro 3) Fences 4) 20th Century Women 5) Green Room 6) Rogue One 7) Hell or High Water 8) 13th/OJ: Made in America 9) Elle and 10) Hunt for Wilderpeople and honorable mentions to: La La Land, Hidden Figures, Jackie, The Nice Guys, Captain America: Civil War, The Founder, Michael Moore in Trumpland, The Neon Demon, Southside With You, Keanu, Doctor Strange, 10 Cloverfield Lane, Don't Breathe, The Fits, Hail Caesar and The Witch.

'House of Sand and Fog' is a kind of horror film, ahead of its time

House of Sand and Fog is many things -- one of the saddest movies ever made, perhaps one of the more nuanced portraits of Middle Eastern characters that's ever come out of Hollywood, but it also plays as a horror film, one where the consequences and calamity have more to do with race than supernatural menace.

It came out in 2003, during the height of Iraq War fervor, and its easy to see how the film could have been viewed then as antidote to mindless Islamaphobia and stereotyping.

Ben Kingsley, in a towering performance, plays the stern and stubborn head of a household of Iranian exiles. They are not cowering, victimized refugees, but instead proud and spiteful towards the radicalized Ayotollahs who pushed them out of their native country.

They pointedly do not view themselves as Arabs -- although their adopted country almost certainly does -- and Kingsley's character is so attached to his former wealth and status, he meticulously works several menial jobs so his family can live in relative luxury and put on heirs.

He hatches a plan (or scheme, depending on your point of view) to save up his meager wealth to invest in a property that he will then flip for a profit so he can secure a sustained economic future for his wife and young son. It's a most American and capitalist idea that runs into an unintended roadblock in the personage of Jennifer Connelly's character, who is almost the walking/talking personification of white privilege.

A number of twists and turns ensue, where the ignorance and self-centeredness of Connelly's character (and by extension her half-wit new lover, played by Ron Eldard) plunges all of these characters into an abyss of bad decisions and eventually, death.

It's all a bit heavy, perhaps too on the nose, yet incredibly affecting because it is that rare film where we actually are forced to see the collateral damage that a lack of empathy for what is commonly referred to as "the other" can wrought.

Now, I must confess that I have never read the source material, so I'm not sure how this movie compares. It almost certainly collapses the time in which the events of the plot unfold, which is why it could be condemned as overheated melodrama by some critics.

But I think its detractors are missing some of its innate power -- besides Kingsley's Oscar-nominated lead performance and Shohreh Aghdashloo's heartbreaking supporting one -- the film makes a genuine effort to humanize everyone in it.

Normally, narratives of this kind would almost solely focus on the Connelly character, and go out of its way to stack the deck in her favor. This film does not give her the benefit of the doubt. It also doesn't shy away for conveying the fact that Kingsley's character is a misogynist at best and an occasionally abusive husband at worst.

Films like this, which are few and far between outside of awards season, are incredibly vital now in the political climate we're currently living in -- where whole religions and ethnic populations are getting painted with a broader brush than they have been in decades -- nuance and complexity is desperately needed and edifying for audiences who may have been exposed to just one, flawed and simplistic point of view.

'How Did This Get Made?' has kept me sane this past year

I have been late to the podcast game, and even now I wouldn't call myself an aficionado of the genre. That being said, my favorite podcast -- and the one I've been obsessively listening to for the better part of the past year, has been "How Did This Get Made?" a masterful takedown of the worst movies of all time, hosted by three comedic geniuses -- Paul Scheer, June Diane Raphael (who also happens to be Paul's wife) and my personal favorite -- Jason Mantzoukas, whose blunt honesty really reminds me of myself.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, and taking stock of things we are thankful for, I wanted to pay tribute to this podcast, which has lifted my spirits during many bad days at work and helped me get some more perspective on my favorite art form -- the movies.

It has become abundantly clear since the election of Donald Trump as president, that we are now entering a scary new area where facts are treated no differently than opinions, and people are creating their own alternative realities that essentially confirm their pre-existing worldviews.

The Lawnmower Man

In a climate like this -- there are few things you can be certain of anymore. So it's comforting, in a way, to hang on to the simple pleasures of life. And for me, that includes horrifically bad movies.

What "Zouk," Paul and June Diane do (as well as their excellent array of mostly comedian guests) is not simply take cheap shots and films that failed miserably.

They really deconstruct these movies and in some cases -- like with the exploration of then-Bruce Jenner's nascent sexual curiosity in the abominable Can't Stop the Music -- they see what is worthwhile or even compelling about some of these catastrophes.

In other words, they give credit where credit is due (Gene Kelly's performance in Xanadu) and eviscerate the rest. They are smart, funny and hyper woke to issues of race, gender and intersectionality that the filmmakers often couldn't have conceived of at the time of their films' release.

They select some obvious targets -- The Room, I Know Who Killed Me, much of Nicolas Cage's oeuvre, but they also do some deeper cut flops too, some of which I'd never heard of and have felt compelled to check out after listening to the show.

Would I have sought out Cindy Crawford's Fair Game on my own? Probably never. But it was so good-bad, that I am glad that I did.

Most recently, the gang at HDTGM took on another movie I've never seen and hadn't ever given much thought to -- 1992's hopelessly dated and politically incorrect sci-fi thriller The Lawnmower Man. This time capsule of a movie boasts a pre-James Bond fame Pierce Brosnan, some horrendous looking special effects, and some of the most problematic sexual politics I've seen in quite some time.

Watching this movie, and then reveling in the HDTGM podcast's excellent dissection of it, was a real delight amid a frustrating Thanksgiving holiday and an even darker period in our nation's history. At the end of the day, it's just a podcast but it's one of the few things that makes me smile right now.

Besides, of course, my wife, who introduced me to it.