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as a reproach to the cynical openness that Hollywood has begun to employ in the meantime to discuss itself) confronting it with the obligation to tell a big, fat lie. True, at the heart of this plan lies a reactionary idea, which, as so often happens with that which is reactionary, comes across very soothingly and naturally also contains a kernel of truth; a well-equipped, ideological machinery, which of course fuses relationships out of masses of inverted and twisted reflections of power relations, is ultimately a more attractive and worldly opponent than one, who is cynical and enlightened. Schnabel’s helpless grandiosity is, despite its embarrassments, certainly more sympathetic than disillusioned cynicism. Yet perhaps it is not the glitter of ideology or the appealing consistency of the lies, which have empowered the «other» cinema. Perhaps it is the riveting failure of these qualities in the face of the introduction of a completely unexpected subjective factor — and «Traffic» is certainly in many ways an ideological film, but one that does not fail.