Out of Touch: Hollywood Elites Fan Civil War Fears with Radical Talk

Paul Riverbank, 1/30/2026Hollywood's fiery political rhetoric, including calls for "revolution," reflects deep anxiety but risks further dividing Americans. As celebrities escalate their language, the nation needs less theatrics and more honest dialogue to restore trust in its institutions.

It wasn’t just anger. Esposito’s comments veered into grim hypotheticals, painting a picture where confrontation is unavoidable, carnage perhaps inevitable. “They can’t take us all down,” he said, speculating about what would happen if the oppressed masses stood together—if, say, everyone from Main Street to Moscow decided to converge on the seats of power. “They’ll kill 500 or 50 million or however [many], but the rest of us would survive with a new [world].” The words carried the kind of bleak confidence that characters he’s played might possess, but here the stakes are real people, not just scripted drama.

He isn’t alone in this mood, though not every voice is quite so severe. Molly Ringwald, a name familiar to those who remember the flashes of ‘80s cinema, also found new urgency when discussing the political climate. There was no hedging; the government got labeled as “fascist,” and the warning to Trump supporters was pointed. If history is a guide, she argued, those who support the current administration will be remembered as the French collaborators of WWII were — as “criminals” in the aftermath of occupation. “That is what’s going to happen. You should not support what is going on.” She didn’t leave much room for subtlety.

Others in the celebrity sphere have joined the discussion without echoing the call for revolution. Natalie Portman, for one, spoke with a sense of contradiction. “I could not be prouder to be American right now by the way the Americans are acting. And I could not be sadder to be American right now with the way the government is behaving.” Hers was a response blended with both hope and disappointment—frustrated, yes, but carrying an undercurrent of reluctant patriotism. Olivia Wilde spoke out against ICE’s tactics, warning that this was not something to accept quietly. But it was Esposito’s comments that made the room go silent.

Despite all the rhetorical fireworks, the gap between what’s said onstage and what could happen on the streets remains vast. Sometimes, the intensity of California’s political climate appears completely disconnected from daily struggles in, say, Kansas or Ohio. Some observers, probably more cynical than concerned, have joked that actors calling for revolution are unlikely to stand at the barricades themselves. “Anyone who thinks Esposito or any other celebrity will show up in Washington and risk being killed is kidding themselves. Leftist celebrities would be safe at home, while others do the dirty work," one commentator scoffed, pointing out the perennial disconnect between Hollywood and hard reality.

This raises a core question: Is anyone actually listening? For many beyond the Hollywood bubble, these exhortations—whether fiery or solemn—feel like theater, not substance. The language of revolution and collaboration, of historic reckoning and imagined showdowns, can come off as deeply alienating. On both sides of the political divide, regular Americans squirm at fantasies of retribution or talk of “rounding up” political opponents. There is a fear running through this—less about the specific threat, more about a world in which dialogue has collapsed and institutions have lost their grip.

It’d be naïve to claim that rowdy talk is new in America. Protest, dissent, impassioned debate have been fixtures in public life for centuries—sometimes sparking actual change, other times serving merely as a vent for frustration. Yet when language tilts toward armed conflict, when a revolution is spoken of as if it’s just one speech away, something in the national mood changes. Even if these calls are meant to shock or rouse, their echoes linger uncomfortably.

We find ourselves teetering between drama and disaster. The temptation to treat politics like a script—where heroes and villains are clearly marked, and the resolution is just around the corner—remains strong, particularly for those who make a living onstage and onscreen. But unlike film, real life has no director to shout “cut” when things get out of hand. As the temperature rises in public discourse, what’s needed most is a collective return to reality—less performance, more commitment to working problems out together.

At the end of the day, it’s not about who gets the last word in a headline; it’s about seeing if we can lower the volume enough to hear what our neighbors are really saying. In an age of megaphones, sometimes the bravest thing is listening.

Political conversation coming out of Hollywood is nothing if not dramatic, but lately the rhetoric has taken a sharper turn. For years, actors have weighed in on national issues, often blending activism and artistry. Yet recent remarks—particularly from Giancarlo Esposito—have struck a far different note. Onstage at the Sundance Film Festival, Esposito, famous for playing chilling antagonists, dropped the mask and leveled his sights at power itself. His interview with Variety wandered quickly past polite protest; instead, it sounded almost like a warning flare. “This is time for a revolution, it’s time for it, and they don’t even know that’s what they’re starting,” he declared, hardly mincing words. Esposito’s message was forceful, naming “some very rich old white men” as orchestrators of unrest—a brewing “civil war in the streets,” as he described it, with anger as ammunition.It wasn’t just anger. Esposito’s comments veered into grim hypotheticals, painting a picture where confrontation is unavoidable, carnage perhaps inevitable. “They can’t take us all down,” he said, speculating about what would happen if the oppressed masses stood together—if, say, everyone from Main Street to Moscow decided to converge on the seats of power. “They’ll kill 500 or 50 million or however [many], but the rest of us would survive with a new [world].” The words carried the kind of bleak confidence that characters he’s played might possess, but here the stakes are real people, not just scripted drama.He isn’t alone in this mood, though not every voice is quite so severe. Molly Ringwald, a name familiar to those who remember the flashes of ‘80s cinema, also found new urgency when discussing the political climate. There was no hedging; the government got labeled as “fascist,” and the warning to Trump supporters was pointed. If history is a guide, she argued, those who support the current administration will be remembered as the French collaborators of WWII were — as “criminals” in the aftermath of occupation. “That is what’s going to happen. You should not support what is going on.” She didn’t leave much room for subtlety.Others in the celebrity sphere have joined the discussion without echoing the call for revolution. Natalie Portman, for one, spoke with a sense of contradiction. “I could not be prouder to be American right now by the way the Americans are acting. And I could not be sadder to be American right now with the way the government is behaving.” Hers was a response blended with both hope and disappointment—frustrated, yes, but carrying an undercurrent of reluctant patriotism. Olivia Wilde spoke out against ICE’s tactics, warning that this was not something to accept quietly. But it was Esposito’s comments that made the room go silent.Despite all the rhetorical fireworks, the gap between what’s said onstage and what could happen on the streets remains vast. Sometimes, the intensity of California’s political climate appears completely disconnected from daily struggles in, say, Kansas or Ohio. Some observers, probably more cynical than concerned, have joked that actors calling for revolution are unlikely to stand at the barricades themselves. “Anyone who thinks Esposito or any other celebrity will show up in Washington and risk being killed is kidding themselves. Leftist celebrities would be safe at home, while others do the dirty work," one commentator scoffed, pointing out the perennial disconnect between Hollywood and hard reality.This raises a core question: Is anyone actually listening? For many beyond the Hollywood bubble, these exhortations—whether fiery or solemn—feel like theater, not substance. The language of revolution and collaboration, of historic reckoning and imagined showdowns, can come off as deeply alienating. On both sides of the political divide, regular Americans squirm at fantasies of retribution or talk of “rounding up” political opponents. There is a fear running through this—less about the specific threat, more about a world in which dialogue has collapsed and institutions have lost their grip.It’d be naïve to claim that rowdy talk is new in America. Protest, dissent, impassioned debate have been fixtures in public life for centuries—sometimes sparking actual change, other times serving merely as a vent for frustration. Yet when language tilts toward armed conflict, when a revolution is spoken of as if it’s just one speech away, something in the national mood changes. Even if these calls are meant to shock or rouse, their echoes linger uncomfortably.We find ourselves teetering between drama and disaster. The temptation to treat politics like a script—where heroes and villains are clearly marked, and the resolution is just around the corner—remains strong, particularly for those who make a living onstage and onscreen. But unlike film, real life has no director to shout “cut” when things get out of hand. As the temperature rises in public discourse, what’s needed most is a collective return to reality—less performance, more commitment to working problems out together.At the end of the day, it’s not about who gets the last word in a headline; it’s about seeing if we can lower the volume enough to hear what our neighbors are really saying. In an age of megaphones, sometimes the bravest thing is listening.