The A-B-Cs of Fascism

ORDER! Order! We must have alphabetical order!"

In the first of three parts of a projected trilogy, Hugo Taluncci creates one-third of what may be the cinema's quintessential allegory of fascicm. The first installment of his sweeping triumvirate of panoramas, The Boston Telephone Directory uses the alphabet as the ultimate symbol of enforced order. "A," cries Arnold Aaron, a political theorist who works night shifts at a sausage-stuffing factory to maintain contact with the people, "must come before B. When D comes before C, we face revolution!" Neither a book nor a photograph, this movie walks a thin line between cinema and film.

Taluncci unearths the will of all people to political submission, dissecting the lives of Bostonians whose last names begin with letters from A through G. Plugging in to a network of static-ridden, over-priced, meaningless conversations, the director uses three-minute vignettes to cut through the mirage of Boston life. Wiring together the private agonies of the individuals he explores, Taluncci articulates, almost consciously, the poverty of the mass.

"Shorty was quite an operator," a sausage stuffer quips. "I don't see the connection," comes the inevitable reply.

JOHN D. TUNLOP is formidable in his role of every Bostonian whose last name begins with A. As Arnold, he concocts the ultimate bureaucratic vision--income stratification according to the first letter of each person's surname. "There's got to be inequality," Tunlop muses, putting down his Adam Smith. "The best we can do is to make poverty as arbitrary as possible."

Steven Zygerberger (Sam MacGintis) has already drawn up plans to foil Tunlop's dastardly decision. Together with Howard Zinn (Sam MacGintis) and Elmo Zumwalt (Sam MacGintis), Zygerberger hypnotizes all Bostonians whose names begin with letters A through D. After inducing amnesia, he threatens to rename them at random unless Arnold and Michael Applethrope (John Tunlop) promise to leave the country. Tunlop, as Arnold, suggests binding arbitration.

Taluncci uses ingenious bursts of humor to maintain his pace and to make his point. In cameo appearances, Daniel Ellsberg overhears Richard Nixon telling a dirty joke about Billy Graham and something called "Checkers," after the Committee to Re-Inspect the President installs an amplifier instead of a transmitter in Ellsberg's mother's stuffed derma.

THE FILM succeeds by fulfilling its promise, by clarifying the impossibility of ruling the country with great minds.

"When it comes down to it," Arnold sighs, "the rest of the world besides me is made up of idiots--January morons, February imbeciles, March hares...."

"And April fools," Nixon adds.

Not since Spiro Agnew (reportedly) called Malcolm X "Malcolm the Tenth" have so many owed so little to so few.