Extraordinary Rendition is a frightening practice authorized, surprisingly, under Clinton, that allows the U.S. government to seize and hold anyone suspected, seemingly for any reason, of being a terrorist against the United States. This is a touchy issue, especially after 9/11, because supporters of the practice will always criticize the opposition as withholding vital power from the U.S. that it needs to effectively fight terror. Fanatic supporters will label the opposition as terrorists in themselves. 

But like a recent film that lent a similar level of humanity to the death penalty, The Life of David Gale, Rendition shows us a story of the misuse of extraordinary rendition, or at least the ease with which it can be exploited and falsely applied. The story involves Anwar El- Abrahimi, an American chemical engineer born in Egypt who is seized on his way back to America from giving a lecture in Egypt. The cause given is that he made phone calls to a known terrorist. No proof is ever given (or needed) that it was Anwar that made the calls, that his phone was never lost of stolen. 

Meanwhile, Anwar's extremely pregnant wife, Isabella, is back in the states frantically trying to find her husband, who got onto a plane to Chicago but apparently never got off. The flimsy explanation that he was never there evaporates when she discovers that he made an in-flight purchase using his credit card. 

Lately I have been researching modern Chinese history, particularly that of the astonishingly selfish and brutal dictatorship set up by Mao Tse-tung, and it is more than a little frightening to see the similarities between extraordinary rendition and some of Mao's brutal scare tactics, including his public executions (which the people were forced to watch), and extensive use of torture specifically used to extract "confessions." 

It is pretty disturbing to notice that Mao specifically did these things to create an environment of fear in order to achieve obedience from the Chinese people. To say that the Bush administration has not created an environment of fear and continues to milk it for everything it's worth would be naïve in the extreme, and although extraordinary rendition was not created under Bush, it is clear that it does more harm than good.

Adding to the thickness of the film is Douglas Freeman (Jake Gyllenhaal), who works behind a desk for the CIA and has little field experience, until his boss is assassinated and he suddenly finds himself supervising the torture of a man that he quickly comes to doubt has anything to reveal. Fatima's (Freeman's boss) daughter also plays a pivotal role, as does a senatorial aide played by Peter Sarsgaard, who might have the most satisfying role in the movie. Meryl Streep is also suitably cold and clinical as a chilly senator with a dogmatic support of the necessity and practice of rendition. 

As a political thriller, the movie is remarkably well-crafted and paced. But the scariest thing about it is that this is all real. The movie's goal is to get people to really think about the things done in America's name, especially when they claim to be done to prevent those same things. Conducting terror in the name of preventing terror will win no sympathy for us, nor will extracting confessions through brutal torture, which is the basest form of criminal investigation. 

Unfortunately, we are gradually heading in that direction, of doing these things more rather than less. The frightening question is what is the event that is going to take place at some point in the future to convince us to stop and head the other way, toward civilization and peace, or will we just keep heading toward a military dictatorship until we finally get there?
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positive