For the moviegoer, the holiday season has nothing to do with family, goodwill, peace on earth or any other Hallmark sentiment. It is about long lines, $10 buckets of state popcorn and a violent hatred for crying babies. Unfortunately, this year newborns were not the only theater patrons unable to control their emotions. The cinema was brimming with two particularity heart-wrenching tales, the three-hour tragedy Titanic and the historical drama Amistad and with each showing another auditorium of Americans was left a whimpering mob.

As these films continue their run in theaters, I only hope that the lachrymosity of the crowds is but a fleeting spasm of emotion, emotion best forgotten along with the name of the gaffer, which scrolls down the screen while people remain seated in somber reflection. I won't worry about Titanic, an admittedly moving film about puppy love on a sinking ship. Short of bankrupting Carnival Cruise Lines, there is not much societal impact the film can expect to have.

The case of Amistad is far more troubling. Lest anyone forget, President Clinton has called for a national dialogue on race, and Steven Spielberg's re-telling of a 19th century slaveship rebellion looks as if it may be embraced as the vehicle for bringing that dialogue to the wider public. Beginning with Newsweek a month before the film was released, the media has run countless features accompanied by commentaries discussing the state of race relations in this country. It is interesting to note that while these high-falutin' societal spreads have universally praised the movie as an extraordinary achievement, only independent film critics have dared express the truth of the film's artistic mediocrity.

Amistadhas been inducted by the media into that special cache of films selected for bigger and better things, joining the ranks of another Spielberg film, Schindler's List. The latter was effectively used for a higher purpose, serving as a historical record and as a means injecting emotional resonance into an era taught in textbooks. Amistadmight justifiably be used similarly, although in many ways it is ill-suited for that role. The story of a small group of heroic mutineers absolved by a legal technicality is ineffective as a vehicle to explore the terrible reality of slavery in the New World. Yet, most problematically, unlike Schindler's List, Amistad is not being treated as mere historical record.

Amistadhas been conscripted for the task of facilitating our Presidentially-mandated racial catharsis. Unfortunately, the movie's simplistic message, while important, cannot inform the horrendous complexities of a serious contemporary discussion of race. What does Amistad teach its audience? Slavery was bad, a terrible crime. Freedom is much better. How does this message translate into grand societal questions? For the editors of Newsweek, the big questions were: Should the U.S. government apologize for slavery? Should we build a memorial to slavery? And how should we approach the salve ownership of the founding fathers?

These questions are not just a strained effort to wrap Amistad'stiny intellectual core around the big problem of race. The President's Race Advisory Board, charged with orchestrating the national dialogue, has chosen to follow the same fuzzy, emotion-driven path. Thankfully, the idea of an apology for the misdeeds of people long-dead has been apparently squashed by those bright enough to recognize that such a move would accomplish nothing. The push for a slave memorial to be built on the National Mall remains strong. This seems a fairly harmless gesture that might be valuable if it actually served as a balm for the historical wound. Critics point out that space on the Mall will rapidly run out if we construct a monument for every crime that western society has committed on its rise to hegemony.

Perhaps most absurd is the controversy surrounding treatment of the founding fathers. It seems that paying unqualified tribute to George Washington and Thomas Jefferson is now a suspect act. Tours of Mt. Vernon now include a supplemental section focused on the poor condition of the slaves held there. New Orleans recently removed Washington's name from a public elementary school out of sensitivity to black students. If this process of retrospective condemnation continues, our currency may soon require quite a facelift. May I suggest Jesse Jackson for the dollar bill?

Even if one sees worth in some or all of the causes our national dialogue has embraced, it seems impossible to justify the behavior of the Race Advisory Board with regard to the most important race-related issue of our time: affirmative action. Early in the supposed discourse, John Hope Franklin, the chair of the board, refused to hear from opponents of affirmative action. Franklin stated that these pariahs "don't speak the same language" as more enlightened thinkers such as himself. Since these remarks there has been a hailstorm of criticism, and President Clinton has pressured the board to host more opposing view-points at their discussions. Nevertheless, the dialogue has shown little productivity. Writing in The New York Times, Felicia R. Lee described a recent town meeting in Akron, Ohio, as a "serial monologue, an airing of grievances and personal perspectives"--not the sort of gathering that leads to much progress.

In many ways, then, Amistadis the consummate 1990s film about race in America. Its thematic simplicity is a perfect representation for where we are today. Slavery was bad, freedom is good. We don't get along, but we need to. Spielberg does not offer any lesson on how we can overcome the dark past he depicts and build the harmony that we so desperately seek. It is a shame that the President's initiative on race has, thus far, been equally devoid of substance. Nonetheless, any attempt to find solutions to our current predicament in Amistad will only further mire us in useless guilt and silly symbolic gestures. The only legitimate lesson that weepy moviegoers should take away from this holiday season is this: Beware unsinkable ships.

Noah D. Oppenheim '00 of Adams House is completing a semester as The Crimson's resident moviegoer.