Reviewed by Paul Christian Glenn
Director: Michael Moore
Release: 2004
Rating: R
Ah, Michael Moore. What is one to make of him? Opportunistic propagandist? Scrappy populist hero? Nah. Moore’s new film, Farenheit 9/11, makes it abundantly clear what he is, and what he has always been: a supremely savvy sensationalist.
It’s hardly possible that you haven’t already heard more than you can stand about Farenheit 9/11. The Moore publicity machine has been in full swing since well before the film took the Palm d’Or at Cannes. The scathing assault on George W. Bush has been the subject of innumerable television debates, the Hollywood elite has been waxing rapturous over the film, and last weekend it opened on more screens than any documentary in history.
So, what’s it really like? Pretty much what you’d expect it to be like. Moore uses his considerable editing skills to create an utterly hilarious, occasionally revolting, and pointedly melodramatic film. There isn’t an ounce of honesty to be found, but with Moore’s record, one doesn’t really expect that.
Moore himself gets less screen time here than he did in his previous films, but his sarcasm, wit, and sense of indignant irony are all in full flower. He employs his usual technique of clipping interview snippets from their context, setting them to snappy music, and reading droll witticisms that cut his subjects to the bone.
The problem with Farenheit 9/11 isn’t that Moore has no case for disliking Bush, it’s that he just doesn’t do a very good job of building it. So eager is he to lunge at every angle that the overall effect is disorienting and, ultimately, inconclusive:
Is Bush a complete moron, utterly incapable of making a substantial decision? Yes! But is he also a diabolical mastermind, manipulating the American public like puppets on a string? Yes!
Is Bush a incompetent businessman whose lack of business savvy sank every company he was ever involved with? Yes! But is he also a brilliant financial schemer whose private business dealings have brought him untold wealth? Yes!
Was Bush planning an invasion of Iraq since the very beginning of his Presidency? Yes! But didn’t his administration downplay the threat of Saddam Hussein before 9/11? Yes!
Moore wants to have it both ways on nearly every count. Apparently, it doesn’t matter whether the big picture makes sense.
Some of Moore’s techniques are unabashedly perverse. He shows Iraq before the invasion as a virtual paradise, filled with kites, family weddings, children on playgrounds, and sweet, happy music drifting through the air. Post-invasion Iraq is a barrage of violent, emotional images set to grinding heavy-metal music. This would be blatant propaganda if Moore had some sort of agenda concerning the invasion of Iraq, but he doesn’t. Iraq is just one more dart for Moore to throw at Bush, along with the election-stealing, the frequent vacationing, the unruly hair, and, most insidiously, the inarticulate bumbling. Moore has nothing substantial to say about any of these things, and whether they’re legitimate concerns (and some of them are) is of no consequence.
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about Moore’s film, however, is his exploitation of Lila Lipscomb, a military mother who lost her son in Iraq. Early in the film, Lila is shown to be a pro-military, war-effort supporter who hangs a flag on her house every morning, careful to never let it touch the ground. After the death of her son, however, her opinions change. She sits before the unblinking camera and reads the last letter she received from her son, who writes about his disillusionment with the war, and his desire to see Bush thrown out of office. As she breaks down in tears, the scene is genuinely moving. But that’s not enough. Moore follows Lila to Washington, where she stands in front of the White House and once again loses her composure. She lashes out in anger and pain.
This is powerful stuff, but is it saying anything? Is a devastated woman who’s just lost her son in any position to speak coherently about the war that killed him? Does the fact that war causes personal suffering make all wars unjustifiable? Does Mrs. Lipscomb’s son bear any responsibility for volunteering to be in the military in the first place? Moore doesn’t tackle questions this complex, because he’s not really interested. What he’s after here is the emotional punch. He’ll fill in the blanks with voiceovers.
The Presidency of George W. Bush has, no doubt, been dogged by incompetency. His personal style has alienated much of the world, and his administration has been less than forthcoming about it’s mistakes. It’s quite likely that Al Gore may have been a better President. But is Bush the evil caricature presented in Farenheit 9/11? Is anyone?
Whilst making the television rounds to support the film, Moore has loudly declared that he is critical of both the Republicans and the Democrats, that he takes no position other than his own. In this, at least, he tells the truth. For by refusing to align with any established school of thought, it’s easier to attack, well, anyone. Moore’s films are not marked by their brilliant unsung solutions to the world’s problems, but by their snide pot-shots toward the nearest easy target. Last year it was guns, this year it’s Bush. Next year it will be something else - unless Bush wins the election, in which case, perhaps we can expect an even more sensational sequel.