In last week’s blog, I wrote about how the Great Depression inspired a controversial heroine who subverted ethics as a means of survival. Of course, Scarlett O’Hara wasn’t the only anti-hero to bust her way out of the Great Depression; in fact, those grim times breed a succession of anti-heroes, idolised by American audiences as dark doubles to the respectable society by which they felt so horribly disillusioned.

Although there is a common misconception that 60 to 80 million Americans went to the cinema every week to escape reality and mentally dance their troubles away with Freddie and Ginger, glitzy escapism was actually the exception rather than the rule, with most films being grounded in the harsh reality of the time. Audiences indentified with wronged heroes from films such as I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, individuals overwhelmed by forces outside their control.

Even more popular than these hapless victims were the rogues who refused to be beaten by the Depression, who prospered by flipping society’s norms upside down and turning their guns on the banks that had ruined them (and ultimately coming to a sticky end in order to satisfy censorship). A new contempt for law and government saw audiences taking heart in the strength of criminals, and allowed Warner Brothers to become masters of the gangster genre with classics such as Little Ceasar.

Even the Marx Brothers, who made the transition from Vaudeville to Hollywood just when the stock markets collapsed, cooked up Duck Soup, which began with an economic bailout and gleefully attacked the sacred cows of patriotism, monogamy and marriage.

And so, with cinema attendance having risen since the dawn of this economic crisis, are we at the brink of another golden age for cinema? Hardly. People queuing for escapism today can look forward to some neurotic singleton’s two hour mission to find a generic ken doll fiancée with nerves strong enough to put up with her. Can you imagine Katherine Hepburn turning into an irrational banshee the second she becomes engaged? Or Mae West being so infuriatingly passive?

We no longer look to Capraesque heroes to restore our faith in humanity – modern fables are instead found in so-called ‘reality’; ordinary members of the public who sing one mediocre song on some TV talent show and become overnight millionaires. The fantasy is that something will just happen to make it all better – gone is the work ethic, the cynicism, and the bitter sense of reality that shaped Hollywood’s golden age.

At least Americans in the cinema mouthing along to Swing Time acknowledged that they were looking at castles in the air – anyone who lives in Dubai (and not in denial), which has become the ultimate escapist fantasy for many, knows that people now have trouble distinguishing dreams from reality. We no longer need Hollywood to weave fantasies for us - we are quite capable of doing it ourselves.

Although I’m not suggesting we return to idolising criminals (especially since that category includes a large portion of bankers), idolising strength, determination and independence has got to be better than the limp heroes and heroines of our time who are as likely to survive a crisis as they are to make a convincing facial expression. Come on, Hollywood – lights, camera... Action??