In 1947, in the wake of the unfolding Cold War with the Soviet Union, some members of Congress began investigating Hollywood for alleged subversive and communist ties. During the investigations, the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) coerced prominent people from the film industry to declare their patriotism and to give up the names of colleagues suspected of having politically unfriendly tendencies. Upset over labor union strikes and outspoken writers, many film executives were eager to testify and provide names. For instance, Jack L. Warner of Warner Brothers suggested that whenever film writers made fun of the wealthy or America’s political system in their work, or if their movies were sympathetic to “Indians and the colored folks,”¹¹ they were engaging in communist propaganda. Many other prominent actors and directors also “named names,” either out of a belief it was their patriotic duty or out of fear of losing their jobs.

Eventually, HUAC subpoenaed ten unwilling witnesses who were questioned about their memberships in various organizations. The so-called Hollywood Ten—nine screenwriters and one director—refused to discuss their memberships or to identify communist sympathizers. Charged with contempt of Congress in November 1947, they were eventually sent to prison. Although jailing the Hollywood Ten clearly violated their free-speech rights, in the atmosphere of the Cold War many people worried that “the American way” could be sabotaged via unpatriotic messages planted in films. Upon release from jail, the Hollywood Ten found themselves blacklisted, or boycotted, by the major studios, and their careers in the film industry were all but ruined. The national fervor over communism continued to plague Hollywood well into the 1950s.

When HUAC made sure to include the film industry in its communist witch hunts, they were reacting to the way they saw film as a powerful cultural tool that could threaten the status quo. That’s because movies function as consensus narratives—popular cultural products that provide us with shared experiences. Whether they are dramas, romances, westerns, or mysteries, movies communicate values, hopes, and dreams through accessible language and imagery that can reinforce some cultural norms, challenge others, and even bridge cultural differences. This can be a double-edged sword.

As the American film industry has continued to dominate the movie-watching experience in many other nations, observers have begun questioning this phenomenon. Some have wondered whether American-made films are helping to create a kind of global village, where people around the world share a universal culture. Others have asked whether these films stifle local cultures worldwide.

With the rise of international media conglomerates, public debate over such questions has ebbed. This is worrisome, as movies exert a powerful impact on people’s beliefs, values, and even actions. As other nations begin to view the American film industry as an interloper in their people’s culture, they may develop a resentment against the United States overall.

Likewise, the continuing power of the movie industry within our own nation raises questions about movies’ role in our democracy. It’s vital that those of us who consume movies do so with a critical eye and a willingness to debate these larger questions about this mass medium’s cultural, political, and social significance. The political significance of film is easy to see in movies that strike political chords with many members of the audience, such as Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A Love Story (a director and film that surely would have drawn the wrath of HUAC) or Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper. But that’s not to say viewers only need to watch serious, issue-based films closely or critically. If anything, a consensus narrative is more powerful when audiences accept it without even really knowing that’s what they are doing.

For instance, most mainstream audiences see Disney’s movies as harmless forms of entertainment. But a critical look at the images of femininity in Disney films, from Snow White to Pirates of the Caribbean, reveals a consistent view of beauty that hews close to a Barbie-doll ideal. What’s more, inner beauty is typically reflected by an attractive outward appearance. Other Disney films (like the Lion King and Pocahontas) verge on racial stereotyping or xenophobia, as when the heroes of Aladdin look less Middle Eastern than the villains. A media-literate viewer, then, must recognize that part of the cultural power of broad entertainments like Disney movies is bound up in packaging potentially questionable messages about gender, race, and class in stories that seem transparently wholesome. Given the expanded viewing options and the increasing access to independent, foreign, and otherwise nonmainstream films, viewers can seek out various alternatives to mass-marketed Hollywood films. With an entity as large as the U.S. film industry producing compelling messages about what we should value, how we should live, and how we should act, it’s vital for those of us who consume movies to do so with a critical, media-literate eye—and to seek out other cinematic voices.

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