In an era oversaturated with cinematic offerings and documentary narratives, there’s a compelling argument that the stories we consume are often curated to serve specific ideological or commercial agendas. The recent surge of high-profile documentaries and indie films highlights a trend: storytelling is increasingly used as a tool for shaping political perceptions and cultural attitudes rather than merely informing or entertaining. While the film industry often claims to hold a mirror to society, in reality, it frequently skews the reflection to align with progressive narratives, corporate interests, or globalist agendas.
Take, for example, the documentary *Prime Minister*, which follows New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern through her pandemic leadership. While it celebrates her as a beacon of compassionate governance, it conveniently omits the systemic flaws, international criticisms, and the broader geopolitical context in which her leadership operated. This selective storytelling glosses over the complexities that often undermine the supposed virtues of such leaders, reinforcing a sanitized view of political virtue without critical scrutiny.
The dissemination of such narratives is no coincidence. Major media outlets and streaming giants like Magnolia Pictures and HBO selectively push these stories under the guise of illuminating truth. Their implicit goal is to craft a certain moral elite—the compassionate, progressive politician or social advocate—often at the expense of nuanced analysis. This creates a dangerous misconception: that leadership and society are inherently progressive and just, ignoring the underlying power struggles, economic interests, and cultural conflicts that define reality.
The Distortion of History and Culture for Political Gains
Films like *The Unholy Trinity* and *Tatami* steal the spotlight as examples of how cultural productions are manipulated to serve political narratives, whether they are rooted in nostalgia, racial identity, or national pride. *The Unholy Trinity*, set against the turbulent backdrop of the 1870s West, romanticizes the era’s violence and lawlessness, potentially glossing over the systemic injustices and racial inequalities of that period. It presents a simplified Western myth—good versus evil—that conveniently aligns with nostalgic nostalgia for traditional American values, neglecting the complex history of settler colonialism, oppression, and marginalization.
Similarly, the Israeli-Iranian sports drama *Tatami* touches on sensitive geopolitical issues by showcasing Iranian athletes risking everything to pursue their dreams amidst oppressive regimes. While ostensibly a story of resilience, it subtly reinforces a narrative of resistance that can be exploited for political leverage—showing oppressed nations fighting against oppressive systems, thereby unintentionally playing into soft power strategies aimed at fostering empathy and ideological sympathy for regimes that control other aspects of global geopolitics.
The promotion of these stories often claims to elevate diverse voices or highlight societal struggles. But beneath the surface, there’s a profit-driven motive to generate emotional engagements that serve larger geopolitical interests—be it by bolstering national pride or by subtly influencing public opinion against certain governments. The glorification of resistance or resilience in these stories often simplifies complex political struggles, feeding into the broader narrative that only “good” nations or individuals are fighting for justice.
Hollywood and the Cultural Elite: A Double-Edged Sword
Major studios and streaming platforms leverage their platforms to amplify selected voices and narratives, but this often comes at a cost: the suppression of dissenting viewpoints and the mainstreaming of sanitized stories. Consider the expansion of *Life of Chuck*, a Stephen King adaptation starring Tom Hiddleston, which from a limited release exploded into thousands of theaters—yet its content was largely about entertainment, not confronting the real societal issues that often underpin these stories.
Similarly, documentary films like *Simple Minds: Everything Is Possible* and *Meeting With Pol Pot* serve to entertain and educate but tend to reinforce a cultural elite’s worldview—whether about legacy, resilience, or historical atrocities—without critically examining the systemic factors at play. This oversight fuels a dangerous complacency among viewers, who are led to believe in simple narratives of heroism or victimhood, rather than grappling with the underlying power dynamics.
In the political spectrum, this strategy helps centrists maintain a delicate balance—highlighting “progressive” stories while quietly dismissing or minimizing more contentious or conservative perspectives. It fosters a cultural environment where dissent is marginalized, and the dominant narrative becomes a sanitized, market-friendly version of reality that diminishes the importance of ideological rigor or healthy skepticism.
The Illusion of Cultural Progressivism and Its Hidden Costs
Cultural productions like *House of Abraham* or *Rithy Panh’s Meeting With Pol Pot* aim to shed light on controversial or painful histories and experiences. But their selective focus often glosses over the deeper socio-political complexities, reducing intricate histories to easy-to-swallow stories designed more for emotional impact than factual accuracy.
In our current cultural climate, the promotion of these stories frequently serves layered political motives: to portray certain nations and regimes as either virtuous or villainous, depending on the narrative’s needs. This creates a false sense of moral clarity that stifles genuine debate and critical engagement. When the stories we are told frame the world in black and white terms, critical thinking is sacrificed on the altar of storytelling.
As part of the center-right wing liberal perspective, it’s clear that the mainstream media’s selective storytelling often undermines individual liberty and national sovereignty. Instead of embracing honest debates about historical guilt, geopolitics, or cultural traditions, the industry often prefers narratives that reinforce globalist and progressive ideals—sometimes at the expense of tradition, national identity, or common sense.
Authentic storytelling challenges the status quo; manufactured narratives uphold it.
In a world where cultural influence is a primary battleground, the stories we choose to elevate are often less about truth and more about control—shaping perceptions to serve an overarching liberal-left agenda that increasingly disregards the importance of individual responsibility and national pride.