The state of working class cinema today

Working class cinema, specifically in Western countries, is in somewhat of a crisis in modern times. We are entrenched in a repeating cycle of left wing cinema that focuses solely on the brutal rule of late stage capitalism and the tragic outcomes it has on working class families. Of course, this topic is undoubtedly crucial, using cinema to highlight harsh realities of modern existence is a necessary reminder for anyone who remains unaware; but it has almost reached a point where it feels like working class people deserve nothing more than to have our collective suffering projected on screen, reel after reel, film after film. It feels like so many films deemed "left wing" refuse to acknowledge any sort viable alternative to capitalism, or highlight the many struggles or battles that working class people have won: whether it is against their bosses, landlords or governments. Mark Fisher claimed that a critique of capitalism that only emphasises how it leads to suffering, only reinforces its inescapable grasp on society. This is something we are seeing increasingly within cinema, where alternative futures or radical change seems almost impossible to visualise through the medium. Currently it feels like so many socially minded films contain the harsh liberal gaze: one that acknowledges the crippling problems of late stage capitalism, but can't, or simply won't, begin to think about any genuine solutions.



Opening in the depths of a mining cave with the workers residing in covered in grime and dirt, John Sayles' Matewan immediately snaps its focus on the working class and their eventual struggle against the brutal owners of the Stone Mountain Coal Company and the private detectives (agents of the Baldwin–Felts company) they hire to repress strikes. Sayles' film dramatises a genuine piece of labour history, the historic Battle of Matewan. A bloody event which saw striking workers, who were in the process of joining the United Mine Workers of America, alongside the chief of police - Sid Hatfield - engage in a shootout against the detectives. A flurry of violence born from the frustration and desperation of striking workers who have been evicted from their homes and stripped of all their possessions. 

The film sees pacifist, organiser and self described "red" Joe Kenehan enter Matewan to help build support for the striking workers and ultimately help them win. Sayles gives each of the characters a significant amount of depth and humanity, helping to build the emotional and political bonds within the film. Sayles does not only show us the brutalism commanded against the minors but shows us how they fought back and came together as a community, showing the more delicate moments where the families have been forced to camp outside their homes. Sayles never treats his characters as flat objects, he lays bare everyone's their anxieties, grievances and hopes. He also accurately depicts how corporations stoke racial tensions by actively pitting together different races in the battle for mere crumbs; a tactic that remains continually used by right wing politicians, the media and corporations. Whilst the titular battle at the end of the film results in melancholic bloodshed, the film reminds us of working class history and by doing so, acts as an important lesson in labour organising and the importance of a unified front.

Much more aggressive in its optimism is King Vidor's Our Daily Bread, a film bursting with so much working class radicalism that it was rejected by MGM, resulting in the film being funded and produced by Vidor himself. The film acts as a sequel to Vidor's earlier film The Crowd - one of the most essential works from the silent era - and creates a dialectical bond between the two: The Crowd is a piece of social realism, showcasing the crippling reality of the attaining the American Dream under capitalism - similar to many today - but Our Daily Bread uses the same characters to highlight an alternative future away from the drudgery of landlords, bosses and money; replacing it with communal anarchism albeit never described as such. This bond allows Vidor to not only critique the façade of capitalism, but show his idea of a utopian alternative (which is ironic given his history of being a Republican and directing an Ayn Rand adaptation). After leaving their house due to a lack of employment and being harassed by their landlord John and Mary Sims being a new life on a plot of run down land given to them by Mary's family, eventually they attract workers from all over the state who are looking for a place to work. 

Critics of the film lambast against its simplicity, but the rudimentary nature of the film's message, one which showcases how a worker commune overcomes its greatest problems by sticking together, is a breath of fresh air against the hopelessness of modern day working class cinema. Many modern films depict humanity in an incredibly cynical almost nihilistic way, something that is doomed to failed regardless of what happens - Vidor's film combats that notion, ultimately showing us the joy in hoping, and working, towards a better world. It also allows Vidor to focus less on creating narrative complexity and more on honing in on the film's formalism, which features some beautiful compositions of communal farming, treating as an elemental force. Notably is the film's final sequence where the commune join together to build an irrigation line from the river to their farm. Vidor constructs a breath taking montage sequence - one rivalling Eisenstein's finest works - that summarises the entire film's themes of community action, hope and overcoming despair. Even today Our Daily Bread remains a distinctly sanguine film, but it never feels overbearing or corny; it is a film that even after ninety years have passed it shines like a bright beacon of cinematic hope.

A recent addition to the growing alternative to working class miserablism is Raoul Peck's The Young Karl Marx: a biopic that combines screwball comedy with deep rooted political analysis, crafting something that feels wholly unique in its treatment of the past. To no surprise the film wasn't particularly popular with mainstream critics who felt the film was either too generic or played it too safe, as if the first Western film about Karl Marx's early life wasn't daring enough as is. Peck demystifies Marx and reminds us that on top of being a landmark figure in the development of both communism and broader left wing thought, he was almost just some dude who played chess, got drunk with his friends and loved his wife dearly. 

The film almost comes across too light hearted and playful for anyone expected a more austere, thoughtful depiction of Marx's much appraised early writings; yet it is too dedicated to accurately capturing Marx and Engels revolutionary thought - the film is packed of people debating in drab houses or giving speeches in big halls - to win over the more liberal crowd who might have wanted a more toned down, safer version of history. Whilst Peck's film might be a film about history, it forces us to remember the permeability of history which comes from fighting: a poignant scene where Marx gives a speech about how believing there will always be bosses, landlords, capitalism leads us back to Mark Fisher's quote about the inescapability of capitalism through art. It feels as if modern cinema has already decided that nothing will change, the best it can does is show us how abysmal everything has become and will remain. 

With so many highly respected films only managing to critique modern political economy by intensely homing in on the agonies of individual people, these films - amongst others - feel vastly different. Of course in each film there is suffering, although it is collective, but they also show people fighting back whether that is through the union or the pen. What we need is a new, revolutionary canon for working class cinema. One that does not only depict the ongoing struggle against the repressive systems of capitalism (as important as it may be); but both highlights the intimate joys of community driven, working class life alongside an optimistic, utopian vision of an entirely possible future given that it is fought for. Cinema should be used to not only document current struggles but remind us of what is attainable if we fight, unionise and come together as a class. All we have is our misery, currently it is both off screen and within it.