Polanski himself made a name directing "Repulsion" (plot: "Left alone when her sister goes on vacation, a sexually repressed young beauty goes insane with surreal fantasies of seduction and rape) and "Rosemary's Baby," wherein a housewife is imbued with the devil's spawn (co-starring Charles Grodin!).
I enjoy many of these charmingly decadent films for what they are: fantasy, titillating, coarse, absurd and escapist. There are few people who possess the talent to send us to a world where violence is without consequence, where serial infidelity is patched up with a couple of witty sentences and middle-aged men (often, incredibly, resembling the ones directing the films) can secure companionship from lithe 20-year-old beauties as effortlessly as they can jump from building to building chasing would-be terrorists.
The problem is that apparently, many of these people have a problem distinguishing between "art" and reality. As well-known blogger Allahpundit recently tweeted, "Word on the street: Polanski's next film is so good, Europe's going to let him (redacted) an eight-year-old. It's THAT GOOD."
Where are the average, serial-marrying, middling Hollywood immorals as their profession is sullied by the likes of Whoopi Goldberg, who asserted that Polanski's sin wasn't "rape-rape," and Debra Winger, who called the rule of law "Philistine collusion"?
What is the average American to make of this incident? Despite the coverage, not much. 1) Hollywood denizens are extraordinarily out of touch. 2) We send them to jail when necessary. 3) Always, always ignore them unless they have scripts in their hands.