Brotherhood Of Murder: Movie Review

[Douglas Mercer]

Douglas Mercer
January 19 2025

The recently released movie The Order (2024) is not Jew Hollywood’s first crack at the heroic saga of Bob Mathews, in twenty years they will probably have a go at it again for they know a good story when they see one, though they have the addled brain problem of being woefully incapable of delineating the good guys from the bad guys. The first version of Mathews story was the 1998 Showtime “crime television drama film” Brotherhood Of Murder, a suitably melodramatic title for a suitably dramatic story though murder, as is said, is always in the eye of the beholder. They certainly don’t call killing in war murder and anyone who thinks we are not currently at war I direct them to the niggers and spics looting Los Angeles like ravenous vampires, or the niggers in Paris who have overtaken a movie theater, or any number of Camp Of The Saints like stories that pour out every day. No, the question that must be asked first: did they need a killing?

This is a tale which has all the hallmarks of Revilo Oliver’s seminal advice to Williams Pierce—make your novel full of action and adventure and gore—it’s what the people love. But this story is a true one though the wooden performance of the always wooden William Baldwin playing the turncoat who wrote the book on which the film is based makes it seem like what it is—playacting with the monumental. Peter Gallagher as Bob Mathews turns in a somewhat decent performance though of course he possesses a fraction of the charisma and dynamism of the original. And so they will weave their various myths and legends around the real McCoy, but these are like plastic darts bouncing off iron mail—for the memories of a dead man’s deeds redound much farther than their blatant propaganda.

The movie begins with the requisite (patent pending) ominous music and then we see a baby in the center of a circle of men one of whom is intoning:

I, as a free Aryan man, hereby swear an oath on the green graves of our sires and upon the children in the wombs of our wives to join together in holy union with the brothers of this circle, from this moment I have the sacred duty to do whatever is necessary to deliver our people from the Jews and bring total victory the Aryan race.

Rousing, stirring stuff to be sure, and good encapsulation of our aims—but this is to be no mesmerizing tale of the Aryans and their just and eternal struggle—no, this is to be a rigged game of a movie the main protagonist of which is the traitor in the group, for as we all know perspective is everything. We next hear the traitor’s wife say that when she was just a girl she dreamed she was a princess and she dreamed of castles and magical white horses and a hero and true love and of a life like a fairy tale. This is standard Aryan mythography and like everything else about this movie is meant to be taken (by the sober viewer!) as ironic for, in the eyes of the Jews, there is nothing like a quest for the spear of Wotan about these men, they are just common criminals. For the man she is with (the traitor) has been expelled from the military, and soon is laid off from his job and then ends up mopping floors where he is disrespected by two negros as “white boy.”

You can already see them laying on this fiction with a trowel as they will portray the motivation of The Order as little more than lower class and petit bourgeois White resentment, the lashing out of the “losers”. And sure enough it is the loser of the group (who in the end is executed as a traitor), a middle-aged portly hero worshipper who recruits the traitor into the fold. At the first meeting a man says if White people say they are proud of their race it’s racist, but if blacks say it then it’s black pride—and that’s not fair and soon they will be teaching this in the universities. As if a movement for the preservation of the White race were but a matter of some tit for tat and not the cosmic battle it really is—and soon the depiction of the group conjures up just what the public fully expects to see from such a group—unhinged and uneducated lunatics full of unreasoned hate. We soon get treated to a scene where the eventual traitor—in the first throes of his education—tells his father that when in the war when he killed “Nazis” he was killing fellow Aryan men, and of course the father (as a stand in for the average viewer) will not stand for it and tells his son to leave forever. We then get the first of a recurrent theme—the nagging wife who questions her husband the traitor who soon begins to vacillate over what he has got himself into. Thus we are set up for the eventual turning of the turncoat who begins to brush off his brush with hate.

They travel to Metaline Falls where, it is said, Robert Mathews has created his own private world. The atmosphere is depicted as cult like, as something out of the Handmaiden’s Tale, and every tone and nuance is seen to be an unhealthy one. This is of course an outsiders’ view, anthropologists are loathe to do this when studying pygmy throwbacks, but when it comes to White men fighting for their own people then they are most certainly fair game. We are shown the gratuitous image of Mathews watching interracial pornography with a smirk on his face and a gun in his hand (nothing subtle about that); at one point Mathews pulls his truck over to pick up some trash by the side of the road and gives a sensible peroration on the subject of filth, how are roads are filled with it, how our media is filled with it, how our society is filled with it and what he is trying to do is create a space where he and his family are immune to such filth. The cues in the movie are meant to see this sane assessment as measure of fanaticism and unreason.

And then we get the assassination of the Jew radio broadcaster Berg, a foul-mouthed Jew, a man who was lionized on film by none other than toady Oliver Stone. It’s time to splash some blood of that vermin on the radio says one of The Order’s members and we see multiple shots to the chest next to his Volkswagen Beetle. The movie then runs down the “crime sprees”—if it were Jews doing it it would be an uprising and a just insurrection—the daylight robberies, the hold ups of adult movie venues, a blowing up of a strip club, a dashing and derring do hijacking of an armored truck and the taking of millions of dollars. When Jew Hollywood portrayed Bonnie and Clyde they became icons of the Swinging Sixties but no one in “decent society” will lionize Robert Mathews for he is at the far end of the “wrong” side of the Culture War. All of this is compressed with the traitor’s ever increasing doubts which soon lead him into the arms of the FBI and, as Mathews says, nothing is worse than a turncoat, unless you are Jewish and the one betraying is betraying White people, then he's a bad man gone straight.

Everything in the story is predicated on the belief that what these men are doing in evil---and so they presuppose what they set out to demonstrate. But even though William Pierce believed that what Mathews did was precipitate—he also clearly stated Mathews also demonstrated that sooner or later in this war to the knife bloodletting will become necessary and one cannot kill one’s enemies without risk being killed oneself. This viewpoint is so outside the range and ken of the makers of this movie that an objective perspective becomes impossible—they cling to their view of good and evil even as in other contexts Jews will say there is no objective right and wrong.

In the end we get the ever-popular icy blonde gun toting FBI babe so near and dear to Hollywood’s heart and she turns the screws on the traitor. The best line in the movie is when she captures one of The Order’ members and he spits in her face the words: you nigger fucking bitch—I’ll remember your face. And then we get the climactic scene of the heroic standoff where Mathews is blown up in his eternally remembered Viking like funeral pyre of flames—worthy of Wagner—and the traitor watches the consuming conflagration through binoculars, having told the authorities that Mathews won’t give up, he’ll go out like Turner—blaze of glory. Just before the Federal Authorities descend on him the ever faithful and constant Mathews taps out his message to the world:

We hereby declare ourselves a free and sovereign people, we declare a territorial imperative which consists of the entire continent of North America. This war is a battle to the death. This is a war, a war for blood, soil and honor. The best we can do is become martyrs. If we die the future will be ours.

Of course to the paying public these are just fantasy words not connected to any reality they know, impotent brave last words. But the fame of a dead man’s deeds lasts forever and will be written about forever and will be inspirational forever, in words and deeds. For it’s well to remember that the prime benefit of controlling the world’s media, by means subtle and not so subtle, is you can dominate and control the response of the viewer, you can inscribe the narrative, that is until they lose control. One day someone really should do justice to Robert Mathews---film is inordinately expensive and depends on distribution methods but thought--it occurs to me--is free.

[Douglas Mercer]

[Douglas Mercer]

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