There’s a scene in the 1957 Charlie Chaplin film A King in New York where Chaplin’s character, King Shahdov, catches his son reading Karl Marx. He asks, “Surely, you’re not a communist?” His son, who was played by his actual son, Michael Chaplin, then replies, “Do I have to be a Communist to read Karl Marx?” At the time the film was released, Chaplin had already left Hollywood, having been barred from re-entering the US in 1952 due to accusations of communist sympathies during the Red Scare, a period of panic over the perceived threat posed by Communists in the US during the Cold War.

Call it the return of McCarthyism or the rising “Blue Scare” – the second presidency of Donald Trump has brought about multiple comparisons to that crucial turning point in American history, the anticommunist witch-hunt led by Senator Joseph McCarthy in the early 1950s. It’s easy to see the comparison: throughout his 2024 presidential campaign, Trump vowed vengeance on a Democratic Party he regularly called “the radical left” (or, on occasion, “communists”). More recently, Trump again blamed “the radical left” for the assassination of Charlie Kirk. 

McCarthy comparisons aside, America actually went through two Red Scares. The first came during the Palmer Raids of 1919 and 1920, when the government launched an intensive crackdown on those with communist, socialist, or anarchist leanings. Thousands of leftists were arrested and, as many were immigrants, hundreds were deported (which sounds eerily familiar today). The second, more commonly associated with the phrase “Red Scare”, erupted in the 1950s, when artists, intellectuals, actors, writers, and filmmakers were blacklisted or even imprisoned for alleged communist sympathies.

At the heart of this wave was the Hollywood blacklist, which barred media workers from employment over supposed subversive ties. Some continued to write and direct under pseudonyms, while studios, under political pressure, financed propaganda like The Red Menace (1949), produced after a young congressman named Richard Nixon pressed studio executives on why they weren’t making anti-Communist films.

Last year, actor Sebastian Stan – who portrays Donald Trump in the controversial biopic The Apprentice – revealed that his performance as the 45th (and now 47th) US president had effectively led to his ostracisation within Hollywood. In recent weeks, a number of high-profile figures have also revived a group first formed during the post-WWII Red Scare: the Committee for the First Amendment. Headlined by actor and activist Jane Fonda, the new iteration includes musicians Gracie Abrams and Billie Eilish, alongside filmmakers Spike Lee, Barry Jenkins, J.J. Abrams, Patty Jenkins, Aaron Sorkin and Judd Apatow. Fonda has called this “the most frightening moment” of her life, writing in a letter to her Hollywood community: “When I feel scared, I look to history”.

So how can we prepare for a renewed wave of McCarthyism? And what lessons can we draw from the Red Scare? Aside from the obvious – that history repeats itself, and that resistance and advocacy remain essential – we can take Fonda’s cue. Looking back at five blacklisted films, we find urgent reminders of class solidarity that still resonate today.

CITIZEN KANE, 1941

The 1941 mystery Citizen Kane charts the rise and fall of Charles Foster Kane, tracing his transformation from an idealistic public servant into a power-hungry newspaper tycoon – a story of capitalistic corruption and greed. At the time, the FBI viewed the film as evidence of a smear campaign orchestrated by the Communist Party and its creator, Orson Welles. A self-described “progressive”, Welles was relentlessly hounded for his politics and ultimately left the US in the late 1940s. Aside from being a cinematic masterpiece, the film also serves as a sobering reminder not to forget your humble beginnings or turn your back on your community, foregoing your relationships for the sake of hoarding wealth. 

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, 1946

An unnamed FBI agent once said this film was “very entertaining”, with a “malignant undercurrent” of communist propaganda, claiming it demonised wealthy bankers and promoted communist ideals (even though the director Frank Capra was actually a lifelong Republican who served as a secret FBI informer during the McCarthy period). Today, it’s enjoyed as a heartwarming holiday classic that (albeit unintentionally) serves as a warning that “predatory capitalism could prevail unless regular Americans reconcile the tension between self-interest and the communal spirit”, according to Vince Nobile, a history professor at Chaffey College.

THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR, 1948

This anti-war fantasy-drama follows a war orphan who finally finds a haven with a waiter in a small town. Then, one morning, he wakes up with (you guessed it) green hair. The film was directed by Joseph Losey, with a screenplay by Ben Barzman, from a story by Betsy Beaton. Both men would later be blacklisted in Hollywood and leave the US, with Barzman having his citizenship revoked – but the film’s message of peace and tolerance for those who are different is, clearly, still relevant today. 

GUN CRAZY, 1950

Screenwriter Dalton Trumbo was one of the Hollywood Ten, a group of writers and directors who, in 1947, refused to state their political affiliations before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. For his defiance, Trumbo was imprisoned. Nearly a decade later, working under the pseudonym “Robert Rich,” he won the Academy Award for Best Screenplay for The Brave One (1956). His 1950 noir Gun Crazy remains just as essential: a taut, stylish critique of power and greed told through the story of young lovers on a robbery spree. Equally compelling is his 1971 independent anti-war drama Johnny Got His Gun, a haunting testament to Trumbo’s lifelong commitment to confronting authority through art.

SALT OF THE EARTH, 1954

In this 1954 union-sponsored film drama (featuring a blacklisted cast and crew), director Herbert Biberman, also one of the Hollywood Ten, tells the story of striking miners fighting against corporate interests for not only economic but also racial and gender justice. Based on the true events of the Empire Zinc Strike of 1951 to 52 in New Mexico, the film was, according to Biberman and screenwriter Michael Wilson, the first feature film made in the US “of labour, by labour and for labour”. It leaves a hopeful message of the power of worker solidarity (and a general strike).