Holiday Pick: Mr. Freedom

Looking for a Fourth of July film? Try William Klein's insane superhero satire.

There’s a line in the classic Christopher Nolan film The Dark Knight where Batman quips at a lesser would-be vigilante: “I’m not wearin’ hockey pads.” That line ran over and over again in my mind watching William Klein’s Mr. Freedom (1969), a film so crazy it almost defies my ability to write about it. With its titular superhero decked out in football gear and occasionally red, white, and blue facepaint, Mr. Freedom is a colorful assault on the senses: a fireworks display in cinema form.

William Klein, a renowned photographer-turned-filmmaker, went from photographing fashion models, however satirically, to making films, and Mr. Freedom is an early example of a filmography that would later include documentary films on Muhammad Ali and Eldridge Cleaver. Here, the thickly ironic and very non-documentary approach to its subjects makes Mr. Freedom a Swiftian parable of that place called AMERICA, a modest proposal towards spreading the cause of “Freedom”.

“Freedom,” of course, is a term thrown around a lot in Mr. Freedom by Mr. Freedom and others. The word comes to lose all meaning. It’s less a term for what it actually means than a catch-all anthem to crush dissent and promote conformity. “Freedom” is a keyword for a right-wing reactionary politics of oppression and violence.

Klein’s film is obviously a Vietnam-era critique of U.S. imperialism, racism, and proxy wars: Mr. Freedom takes a break from harassing black people in the United States to travel to France and fight such global adversaries as “Moujik Man” and “Red China Man”. Consumerism abounds and violence flows freely. The sexual revolution is tolerated, though perhaps only insofar as it enables scantily clad women to surround Mr. Freedom.

The idea of Mr. Freedom apparently arose from the failure of Far From Vietnam, an anti-war film with contributions from Klein, Chris Marker, and Jean-Luc Godard. Ed Halter writes that “Mr. Freedom was Klein’s attempt to make an anti-war film that could attract the popcorn crowd, using the visual language of broad comedy, old-time serials, and the monster movie.” The film is a “booby trap”, in Klein’s words.

I won’t go so far as to say that Mr. Freedom was prescient or predictive. If anything, the film’s Trumpian resonances are a reminder of just how disturbingly well Donald Trump fits into the legacy of U.S. war and violence. Mr. Freedom is a dissent of sorts: against the Vietnam war, but also the ostentatious symbolism deployed by right-wing reactionaries in the face of resistance. Yes, in 2016 Mr. Freedom would have undoubtedly sported a particular red hat.

While Klein has largely been remembered for his photography more than his cinema, Mr. Freedom is a masterpiece of live-action cartoonery and a commentary on American society that’s as worthwhile now as it was in its own era. Celebrate July 4th with a movie that lampoons dick-swinging patriotism and celebrates true rebellion.