You'd better watch that temper of yours," mutters David Banner to his genetically altered son Bruce in Ang Lee's big-screen adaptation of The Hulk. Good advice. But what precisely should Banner do with all that pent-up anger?
The problem of anger preoccupies an increasing number of artists in an era that overdoses us with rage-oriented news. Turn on CNN: Riots. Protests. Lawsuits. Road rage. Hate crimes. Terrorism. Switch over to the talk shows, where tempers are baited and tantrums exploited for pure spectacle. Wrath reigns on the airwaves: Radiohead rants about government oppression and media manipulation, Metallica's new album is called St. Anger, and bile is the bread and butter of many rap artists. Even Bruce Cockburn is angry again, bringing fury back to folk-rock. Bookshelves are barking as well. Try something by Chuck Palahniuk—Fight Club or Choke. In Salman Rushdie's novel Fury, a Middle Eastern man strolls Manhattan streets, fuming with a foreigner's frustrations over America's opulence and self-absorption. (The book reached stores on September 4, 2001, like a prophet's last-minute warning.)
Rather than offering a diagnosis of these violent symptoms, most entertainers exploit our dissatisfaction, serving up a steady diet of wish-fulfillment fantasies. We cheer angry heroes for striking back at adversaries in ways most of us know better than to imitate. In the last several months viewers witnessed Vin Diesel's vengeance in A Man Apart, laughed at so-called Anger Management, and marveled at comic-book spinoffs in which Wolverine rampages (X2), Bruce Banner Hulks, and Jekyll "Hydes" (The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen). Trampy girlfriends and a disintegrating mother drove 8Mile's Eminem to wrestle his rage into rhyming rants. J-Lo punished her husband when she'd had Enough domestic abuse. Anti-death-penalty activists in The Life of David Gale went to ugly extremes, taking a cue from John Q, who held an entire hospital hostage when his son was denied medical coverage.
Retaliation, revenge, and righteous anger are nothing new to cinema. Where would Westerns be without them? When Michael Douglas (Falling Down) shot up a fast-food joint because he wanted it "his way," the carnage made a sick sort of sense. Some popular tales of violent vendettas glow with the glory of a holy crusade. Bravehearts and Gladiators quest in God's name to inflict justice upon the wicked, the end justifying their bloody means. Repercussions of their backlash are eclipsed by the glory of a martyr's courage. Sometimes rifle-bearing saviors offer convenient excuses for collateral damage. The messiah of The Matrix employs "Guns … lots of guns!" and gets away with it because he is firing on a false reality. "There is no bullet." What a lovely sentiment.
Sometimes, Hollywood hiccups on its conflicted answers. An actor from John Q inadvertently summed up the problem: "What John does is heroic, but we don't condone it."
Danny Boyle's new horror film, 28 Days Later, boldly portrays this rampant anger as an illness. A plague called Rage turns London in a hive of zombies, the infected overcome by savage and demonic urges. Our heroes take refuge in a military complex that walls out the irrational monsters with practical defenses. But once safely sealed inside, they are powerless to protect themselves from evils that thrive within a rational system.
Clearly, the epidemic of rage demands an antidote. But the search for a cure always begins with a search for the cause.
Provocations to movie tantrums come in all colors. Characters lash out in response to parental abuse or neglect (American Beauty), poverty (Gangs of New York), bureaucracy (Office Space), media manipulation (Fight Club, Adaptation), unstable adolescent bodies (Donnie Darko), even genetic experimentation (X2). Clearly the culture is conditioned to expect stability and satisfaction, not lies and human failings. We are constantly reminded of our inadequacy and continuously let down by promises of fulfillment. If you just buy this shampoo, read this self-help book, upgrade to this new software, try this diet, take this pill, vote for this candidate, you can be satisfied! One by one, the media's lies leave consumers with a lingering sense of emptiness, betrayal, and an inability to control their destinies.





