I Like to Watch

Or, as Person puts it in the series, "This is really interesting, Brad. You know, Iraqis don't really seem good at fighting. But they never really completely surrender, either." The interplay of Person's quips, Colbert's icy silences, Captain America's spine-tingling lapses in judgment, and Ferrando's scratchy imperatives make "Generation Kill" a riveting exploration of the different ways human beings cope with stress, guilt, boredom, traumatic experiences and ethical dilemmas within the strict confines of the military hierarchy.

But the most informative and unnerving aspect of "Generation Kill" may be its portrayal of the ways that civilians in Iraq have been thoroughly, heavily, repeatedly screwed by our invasion. The Marines can't help those who took up arms and joined the insurrection or keep them from being assassinated by Iraqi troops, despite pamphlets that promised the U.S. would protect them. They can't help the farmers who were robbed and stripped naked (some assassinated) by Iraqi soldiers. They can't help the crowds of civilians fleeing Baghdad as the bombs are falling, and they don't help the people in neighborhoods in Baghdad who need protection from bandits robbing them at night. It's no wonder this miniseries isn't a massive hit for HBO; watching it pounds home just how impossible Iraq was from the start, and just how difficult it's going to be for us to extract ourselves from that country without leaving its people high and dry in the middle of a raging civil war.

One of the most disturbing scenes of the series shows 1st Recon encountering Iraqis fleeing Baghdad with their children and babies in tow. After the company doctor remarks that about one-fourth of the babies are going to die along the way, Lt. Fick remarks, "This humanitarian stuff. We get lost in it, we're not combat effective." The soldier he's with responds, ominously, "This is our future here."

While they may have entered the war with attitudes ranging from cavalier to gung-ho, almost every last one of the Marines depicted here is changed irrevocably by the experience. "Do you realize the shit that we've done here, the people we've killed?" says Tony. "Back in the civilian world, dog, if we did this? We would go to prison."

"You're thinkin' like a Mexican again," Colbert responds. "Think like a white man. Over there they'll be laying on the medals for what we did."

Black and white
This disconnect between the white man's thinking and the realities of life for minorities is also on display in the upcoming HBO documentary "The Black List" (8 p.m. Monday Aug. 25), a simple but moving collection of first-person accounts, anecdotes and musings by notable black artists, writers and public figures from Kenan Ivory Wayans to Colin Powell.

The film is quite simple: Each subject sits against a gray backdrop and reflects on his or her life and experiences while the camera rolls. The stories told here range from personal memories to reflections on the challenges faced by African-Americans in general. Toni Morrison explains how there's freedom in writing in a way that ignores the expectations of white society; Serena Williams remarks on the frequency with which sports journalists describe her as having "overpowered" her opponent while ignoring the mental side of her game; Kareem Abdul-Jabbar remembers working out in the gym with Miles Davis; Chris Rock recalls his low expectations of himself when he was younger -- he once thought, "If I work at UPS, I'll be really lucky."

Al Sharpton's interview is a highlight of the documentary, from his remarks that he "learned about manhood" from James Brown to his observation that the hip-hop generation has "become the gangsterized, thug Uncle Toms, that entertain whites' worst opinion of black folks." But nothing annoys him more than those who refuse to recognize that they're standing on the shoulders of giants. "I had a black conservative tell me on a talk show once, 'You gotta remember, I didn't make it 'cause of civil rights. Civil rights didn't write my résumé.'" Sharpton says. "I said, 'Yeah, but civil rights made somebody read your résumé.'"

Together, these first-person narratives form a contemplative quilt of personal experiences. Taken separately they may seem unremarkable, but together, they build into a disparate but coherent story that reaches its climax at the very end, when Tony Award-winning choreographer and dancer Bill T. Jones delivers an unforgettable treatise on black identity. Don't miss this moving documentary, and props to HBO for putting both of these important stories on the air.

Disrespectfully yours
Whether it's reflected in the elation of Usain Bolt, the haunting questions of the 1st Recon Marines or the pensive musings of Toni Morrison, a healthy dose of disrespect frees the individual from the bounds of the mundane. Those who are naturally disrespectful don't rebel for the sake of being rebellious, like angry teenagers. In fact, they excel in part because they refuse to be hobbled by protocol.

So let's give mad respect to the disrespectful! May we strive to emulate your unapologetic, rabble-rousing, insolent ways.