I saw an old bootlegged copy of The Atomic Cafe back in the late-90s but I fear my attention span in those days was not sufficient enough to absorb its true power. I was probably about 19 then, and even though much of the music I listened to (and still do listen to) dealt directly with international arms races and nuclear destruction, I failed to put the film into any concrete political context. It was funny and odd, for sure, but its messaging flew largely over my head. Now, 20-something years later, I have found myself completely enraptured with The Atomic Cafe, and would very much like to kick my younger self in the ass.
From the original blasts at Hiroshima and Nagasaki and carrying on through the Korean War, The Atomic Cafe chronicles the many ways in which the U.S. government spun the ever-present threat of nuclear annihilation to the American people. Offered without narration, Filmmakers Jayne Loader and brothers Kevin and Pierce Rafferty spent five years piecing together miles of government training films and newsreel footage into a sometimes kitschy, sometimes heartbreaking record of Cold War-era hysteria that will simultaneously enrage and delight. Nothing short of extraordinary, The Atomic Cafe is a monumental and artistic timeline of paranoia, mistrust, disinformation, and mass death that will have your toes tapping while shaking you to your very core.
From “duck and cover” drills to wacky products like radiation suits and family bomb shelters; from propaganda films featuring Army chaplins extolling the virtues of the bomb to patriotic citizens chasing those crazy peace lovers (code for Soviet infiltrators) out of the town square, to Harry Truman telling us that in U.S. hands, atomic warfare is one of “God’s purposes,” etc., The Atomic Cafe is an extremely cynical film hiding under a thin veneer of sentimentality and humorous nostalgia. It’s a savage piece of filmmaking that holds a judgemental mirror up to a bygone era, only to reflect back and reinforce the pessimism felt under the Reagan administration’s renewed Cold War and defense efforts.
From my personal perspective (one of a long-standing love for politically charged punk rock, and what I failed to realize when I first saw the film), The Atomic Cafe is a perfect amalgamation of early-80s UK hardcore bands come to life. If Discharge’s Hear Nothing, See Nothing, Say Nothing needed any more visual representation than its iconic album art already supplies, The Atomic Cafe is certainly it. With that in mind, punk historians and aficionados alike – along with anyone who has an even casual interest in Cold War-era weirdness (and by extension, how modern disinformation can easily spread through a terrified – ahem, white – populace trained to crave authority while happily living in fear of whatever “other” happens to be after their freedom this week) – should find much to appreciate with this off-beat gut-punch of a movie.
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.