10 Right Wing Films You Should Watch

From 'Hot Fuzz' to 'Dirty Harry'

Culture is generally controlled by the Left. Whether this is natural occurrence, the result of artists being more open and experimental and less bound to tradition, or the result of a long-term project of cultural hegemony can’t be definitely said, but the conclusion remains the same: the Left controls the culture. Yet despite this fact, every once in a while things slip through. Be they the result of an artist’s singular vision or perhaps their blindness to alternate interpretation there is plenty of art with right-wing themes, from Vorticism to the novels of Evelyn Waugh. However, the most accessible right-wing art remains film. Whilst it may take years to fully grasp the philosophy of F. A. Hayek or Joseph de Maistre, a film can be finished in under two hours and have more of a direct and motivating impact than the best of non-fiction books. So, in a slightly click-baity fashion, The Musing Individualist and The Grey Album have proposed a list of ten right wing films worth watching. These films may be libertarian propaganda or have a subtle message about the realities of social hierarchies or everything in between, yet they are all enjoyable and a much better alternative to spending hours browsing Netflix. Enjoy!

Tár (2022)

Tár is certainly the best movie of the year and possibly of the last half a decade or so. It is a remarkable piece of film-making that revels in ambiguity. The film stars Cate Blanchett as Lydia Tár, the first female conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic. In the first half of the film, we get a glimpse into her life, and in the film’s strange, dream-like second half we see it all fall apart as she is accused of sexual assault. The film leaves much up to interpretation as it tackles big topics in contemporary society such as the #MeToo Movement and ‘Cancel Culture’. What makes the film so refreshing is that, like Mike White’s White Lotus series, it is an example of artists finally tackling the issues of our time. The film’s politics aren’t explicitly conservative yet there is a scene, for example, where Lydia Tár berates a ‘pansexual, BIPOC’ college student who dislikes Bach because he is ‘white, male [and] cis.’ Tár eloquently explains the need to separate the art from the artist (something that later on in the movie begins to apply to her as well), but at the same time clearly oversteps her mark, leaving the viewer uncertain.  Tár is such an effective film not because it is reactionary or ‘regressive’ as the film critic of the New Yorker wrote, but because it is the opposite of that. It is a complex and fascinating film about a complex and fascinating character. It is unafraid to ask the tough questions about the state of modern liberalism yet never settles for easy, culture war answers.

Hot Fuzz (2007)

Hot Fuzz is a fantastic star-studded and action-packed comedy which depicts the attempt of Sargent Nicholas Angel to bring down the murderous plot of the local community of Sandford to win `The Village of The Year` contest. Three themes through the film put it firmly in the libertarian quadrant of political opinion. First, on full display is the incompetence of the police. When Angel turns in an arrest rate 400% higher than the average PC in London, he is ultimately told by the Chief Inspector he must be moved to Sandford, because ‘The fact is you’ve been making us all look bad…and we can’t have that’. The scene reeks of envy. Second, is how the idea of the greater good is perverted to truly terrible ends. The Neighbourhood Watch Alliance attempts to win ‘The Village of The Year’ contest via the destruction of an awful house not in keeping with the village’s rustic aesthetic, the elimination of appalling acting at the dramatic society, and forcefully keeping their horticultural expert from defecting to a neighbouring competitor. All require the murder of individuals, and all is justified in the name of ‘the greater good’. Third, and most subtly, is the idea, even if the greater good were served by this sinister plot, the murders would still be unjustifiable. This is indicated by Angel addressing the Reverend in the final shootout and stating ‘I know the difference between right and wrong, and I have the good grace to know which is which’. Overall, this picture is an excellent caricature of the morality of ‘the greater good’: Libertarians will be laughing every step of the way. Until, of course, they remember this justification is far from absent in town halls up and down the country. Eek!

Dirty Harry (1971)

Not much needs to be said about Dirty Harry – it’s already a classic film but let me make the case for it once again. Few people remember quite what chaos America was in the late 1960s and 1970s. Crime was sky-high, disorder ruled, major cities were constantly under threat of attack by radical leftist terrorists – it was a challenging time. Dirty Harry doesn’t shy away from showing this and offers a middle finger up at the counter-culture. Clint Eastwood, in an iconic turn, plays Harry Callahan, a non-sense San Francisco cop on the hunt for a criminal called Scorpio, inspired by the still-active-at-the-time Zodiac Killer. At every turn he is thwarted by soft-on-crime liberals, bureaucrats and politicians. Dirty Harry has a characteristic that many of my favourite films have, which is efficiency. It is an action movie, a thriller, nothing more and nothing less, but it is perfect at what it aims to do. Upon release the film spawned controversy. The critic Pauline Kael called it ‘fascist’ and ‘a remarkably single-minded attack on liberal values,’ yet the movie has endured. If you know Dirty Harry just through pop culture osmosis, if you can quote ‘do you feel lucky punk?’ but have never actually seen the movie in full, I urge you to do so. You’ll have a great time.

The Fountainhead (1949)

The great struggle between individualism and collectivism for the soul of mankind is portrayed through the battles of the architect Howard Roark in this cinematic epic of Ayn Rand’s magnificent creation. Set in 1940s New York, Roark embodies the ideals of honesty, integrity, and independence, and the story is designed to emphasis these virtues with unabashed dialogue, grand imagery, and a seriously dramatic score. The real drama of the film comes when Peter Keating, a self-confessed leech of a man, secretly asks Roark to design Cortlandt Homes, low-cost accommodation to meet the needs of the poor, which he wants to submit under his own name to save his reputation. Roark, knowing he stands no chance of receiving the commission himself due to his nemesis being on its board, agrees, simply because he loves his work for its own sake, but under the sole condition it is built exactly as he designs it. The builders break the contract and pervert his designs, and to deal with this injustice Roark takes the law into his own hands, which ensures the dramatic courtroom finale where the essence of altruistic morality is exposed. The romance between Roark and Dominque Francon adds to the richness of the plot as she is won round from her cynicism, and after must resistance, eventually falls in love, both with our architect and the ideals he represents.  This film will inspire you to view your work, not as warranted by helping society, but by it helping yourself alone. I would thoroughly recommend watching this picture.

Barcelona (1994)

Whit Stillman’s delightful 1994 romantic comedy follows the lives of two American expats in Spain. Stillman, a sort of WASPy, conservative Woody Allen excels at writing witty dialogue which is present in spades throughout the film. Barcelona explores relationships between men and women in an amusing manner but the movie also has a political message. Barcelona critiques European anti-Americanism more persuasively than any other film I’ve seen, as in his own, light way, Stillman dismantles stale and snobby European cliches about hamburgers and gun control, all whilst gently poking fun at his own country.  In a pivotal scene one character seeks to explain the attitudes of local towards the Americans. ‘The United States is like a giant ant farm,’ he says, ‘but people living abroad can’t observe the ants directly. They must rely on journalists and commentators to observe everything that is going on inside.’ ‘The problem,’ he concludes, ‘is that these people all seem to hate ants.’ A film to recommend to that extremely niche segment of readers, young neoconservatives.

Metropolitan (1990)

While the majority of the films on this list portray some right-wing theme, sentiment or history, I believe Metropolitan depicts an actual right-wing vibe, or rather, an idealised one of university conservatives (hence the favourable sex ratio). To the extent there is a plot to this film it is the courtship story between Audrey Rouget and Tom Townsend, the poor newcomer to the Sally Fowler Ratpack, a group of university students who have returned home for the debutante season. Whether it be discussing French socialism and the fate of the bourgeoisie, or the literature of Jane Austen and where to buy White tie, as a friend of mine once wrote, it `should [all] be extremely relatable for a certain kind of Tory`. The romances, gossip and beautiful sets all make this picture the visual equivalent of easy listening. And to match this we are treated to a suitably tender and dinner party-esque soundtrack by Mark Suozzo and Tom Judson: Worth listening to even by itself.  

Nixon (1995)

There are broadly two types of conservative films: films that have a right-wing message or films that portray right-wing characters. There is of course overlap between the two categories but Nixon falls firmly in the latter camp. Directed by the leftist Oliver Stone, Nixon is a remarkably nuanced portrait of perhaps America’s most interesting president. Anthony Hopkins, who looks nothing like Richard Nixon, plays the role totally convincingly – he doesn’t slip into caricature or imitation and instead captures the feeling of the man, all sweaty and paranoid and sly. The film spans the whole of Nixon’s life, from his poor upbringing to his time as Eisenhower’s Vice President, to his resignation. There are excellent scenes depicting key events like the 1960 Presidential debates and Nixon’s trip to China. What is remarkable about the film is how many of the issues of Nixon’s time speak to today. He too had to deal with rising crime, inflation, racial tension and left-wing student activism. Nixon’s evocations of the ‘silent majority’ are just as relevant in today’s America. Though it shouldn’t be confused with real history, Stone’s love of conspiracy makes for a narrative that is more thrilling than accurate, Nixon is probably the best film about the American Presidency. I recommend watching the 212-minute director’s cut if you can. Every minute is worth it.

The Admirable Crichton (1957)

Although not taking itself too seriously, The Admirable Crichton can be viewed as portraying the truth all societies will have hierarchies, and, to a lesser extent, these hierarchies are good. The film begins in England in 1905 in the aristocratic household of the Earl of Loam where we are treated to the Earl’s somewhat insincere desire to ensure `liberty, equality and fraternity` between himself and his servants. Mr Crichton, the butler to Earl Loam, is horrified, as are the Earl’s three present daughters, who are forced to take tea with the staff. Upon discovering his fourth daughter has been arrested as a Suffragette though, Earl Loam decides, upon Crichton’s suggestion, to embark upon a sea journey on their steam yacht to calm his nerves at the terrible news. And so, Crichton, Earl Loam, his three law-abiding daughters, two aristocratic bachelors and the between maid set off to the South Seas. Unfortunately, their ship sinks and they are left stranded alone on a desert island. Soon after the landing the aristocrats become fed up with Crichton serving variations of coconut, and after the slightest whiff of insubordination from him, Earl Loam attempts to assert his authority, stating, ‘I shall give the orders and you shall obey them’, to which Crichton says ‘With the deepest of respect my lord, no’. And it is here where see the hierarchy flipped, as Crichton gains the strongest bargaining hand on the island, due to his skill, and in so doing becomes ‘the Guv’. The state of nature, just as much as civilisation, is shown to be right-wing, i.e., naturally hierarchal and good for it too. Naturally Crichton, now being at the top of the tree, gets the most beautiful girl of them all, here, Lady Mary. When the castaways are eventually discovered though, and returned to England, Lady Mary maintains she still loves him. Crichton puts down this delusion with the most apt dialogue there is: ‘You love someone you called the Guvnor, he doesn’t exist anymore’. And as Jordon Peterson would predict, Crichton is right, for we are all just lobsters after all.

Tiny Furniture (2010)

Tiny Furniture is the break-out film from Lena Dunham, who later went on to make the hit HBO series Girls. At first Dunham’s work does not appear to be fertile ground for conservative interpretation. Tiny Furniture stars Dunham as a thinly-veiled version of herself, so much so that many of the actors in the film are either her friends or relatives. She plays a listless, aimless college graduate that moves back into her parent’s house in New York in order to figure out her life. What follows is a merciless critique of the shallowness of the millennial generation. The film is very funny, in an awkward, cringe-inducing way, as many of the characters turn out to be terrible people. The film’s conservativism is subtle and probably unintentional. Dunham is a smart writer, and often very nuanced but it is unlikely that one of Hillary Clinton’s chief celebrity supporters set out to make conservative art. Instead, by portraying the reality of millennial (female) life in the big city she unwittingly revealed the paradoxes of liberalism. Tiny Furniture, and it’s even more accomplished follow-up Girls gained an unexpected cadre of conservative fans who saw the portrayal of hip, young, liberal, feminist characters not so much as a celebration but as a warning. As Ross Douthat, the conservative columnist wrote, ‘the genius, and resonance, and staying power of Lena Dunham’s [work] rests not only on its artistic quality but on its message to its mostly liberal viewers: You do not have this alternative figured out.’

The First of The Few (1942)

This biopic presents the life of R. J. Mitchell, the creator of the Supermarine Spitfire, and his struggles to design and then perfect his plane and ensure its adoption for RAF production. Beginning in 1922, Mitchell is determined to win the Schneider Trophy for Great Britain, and with the help of Geoffrey Crisp, played by David Niven, does just that with his pioneering seaplane. Yet it is on a trip to Germany in 1933, where he meets the aircraft designer Willy Messerschmidt, when Mitchell realises the real importance of his creation: In defeating the Nazis in the inevitable war. He commits to perfecting his plane, working day and night, night and day, and in so doing destroys his health, forever hoping the government agrees to build his Spitfires. Eventually, and with Mitchell on his deathbed, the orders are placed: His legacy is ensured. Few films I have seen have stirred my sentimentality more than this one. It is unfortunate then the picture is historically inaccurate in important ways. Nonetheless, as cinema, I can think of few biopics with greater depths of emotion portrayed and achievement put into moving images than this one. For anyone with even the faintest of patriotic sentiment, I cannot recommend this film enough.  

If you have any suggestions, why not comment below.