The Roof Is On Fire
As planned, I made it to Fahrenheit 9/11 this week. I didn't go over the weekend, but apparently I wasn't missed. Even without me, the movie made more money over the weekend than Michael Moore's previous film, Bowling for Columbine, did for its entire run. And Bowling was a huge hit, holding the documentary gross record for a non-concert film.
The movie is a brilliant piece of propaganda. Which is not to say that it's inaccurate. A movie can be propagandist and still true. And when dealing with a figure whose main means of discourse is propaganda (Mission Accomplished), it's only fit. Moore is out to inflame, and inflame he does, with interviews, archival video, a visit to Flint, and bits of the agit-prop theater (reading the Patriot Act over the speaker of a Tastee-Freeze truck) for which he's known.
There's little here that's news, at least to anyone who's been paying attention for the past four years. But Moore does a good job of laying out all the pieces in the proper order. In this way, the film is like a good Time magazine article, recapping a series of connected events in a way that helps make sense for the viewer.
Moore hates George Bush. Really, really hates George Bush. I don't like George Bush, but next to Michael Moore, I'm middle of the road. Here's George Bush stealing the 2000 election. Here's George Bush goofing off his first eight months in office. Here's George Bush reading with schoolkids while the World Trade Towers are being bombed. And on and on and on.
This is the major flaw of the film. Moore hates Bush so much, he tries to touch on everything that's wrong with this administration, rather than focusing on any one element for any length of time. His bit on the Patriot Act would be more effective if he gave the audience a better idea of what the Act is all about. It's no surprise that the section on Iraq is the most compelling, because he takes some time to cover various elements of his story, and focuses on the human story, rather than just the political one.
Moore has been accused, as he always will be, of being inaccurate. The Christopher Hitchens story in Slate does a better job than most in making its case without losing its cool. It's not that Moore lies, or even bends the truth (much): he's simply bitten off more than even a man of his gigantic size can chew.
At the same time, the story he does tell boils the blood. Beneath it all, once you strip away the Bush-baiting, is a story of haves versus have-nots, of the privileges enjoyed by people of privilege, and of the wage slaves that makes those privileges possible. It's not that Bush puts the needs of the Saudis above those of the American people; it's that the Bushes, like the Sauds, travel in circles that isolate them from the lives of the people they serve. (The same argument could be made of the Kerrys and Heinzes.) Bush is so unrepentant about catering to the desires of the wealthy ("Some people call you the elite. I call you my base.") that it makes me wonder why anyone making less than $200,000 a year (to be conservative) would even consider voting for him. By the time we got to the seminar for companies exploring ways to cash in on rebuilding Iraq, I understood the urges that prompted the French Revolution. I don't just want these people out of office; I want heads on pikes.
Early in the film, there is a scene that was a surprise to me. Congress has to certify the vote of the Electoral College in order for the newly elected president to take office. Ironically, Al Gore, as President of the Senate, has to preside over these proceedings. A challenge, in writing and signed by at least one senator and one representative, is enough to open the floor to debate. One by one, members of the Congressional Black Caucus take to the podium with their challenges, based on what they perceive as the disenfranchisement of black voters in Florida and other places. Not one of the representatives has managed to secure the signature of a senator, however, and so one by one they are forced to leave the podium. The cowardice of the Senate is understandable: by this time, the election of George Bush is a fait accompli, and with only 100 members, the Senate is more of an old boy's club than the rambunctious House, with its 435. At one point, when a representative is asked if she has a senator's signature, she replies, "I don't care that it's not signed by a member of Senate!" Gore replies that Congress does care about the rules, which elicits some laughter and applause. In a greater sense, though, the scene underscores the difference between Gore and Bush. Whatever else you may think of him, Al Gore has always been guided by the rule of law, an inconvenience George Bush has never allowed to get in his way.
The movie is a brilliant piece of propaganda. Which is not to say that it's inaccurate. A movie can be propagandist and still true. And when dealing with a figure whose main means of discourse is propaganda (Mission Accomplished), it's only fit. Moore is out to inflame, and inflame he does, with interviews, archival video, a visit to Flint, and bits of the agit-prop theater (reading the Patriot Act over the speaker of a Tastee-Freeze truck) for which he's known.
There's little here that's news, at least to anyone who's been paying attention for the past four years. But Moore does a good job of laying out all the pieces in the proper order. In this way, the film is like a good Time magazine article, recapping a series of connected events in a way that helps make sense for the viewer.
Moore hates George Bush. Really, really hates George Bush. I don't like George Bush, but next to Michael Moore, I'm middle of the road. Here's George Bush stealing the 2000 election. Here's George Bush goofing off his first eight months in office. Here's George Bush reading with schoolkids while the World Trade Towers are being bombed. And on and on and on.
This is the major flaw of the film. Moore hates Bush so much, he tries to touch on everything that's wrong with this administration, rather than focusing on any one element for any length of time. His bit on the Patriot Act would be more effective if he gave the audience a better idea of what the Act is all about. It's no surprise that the section on Iraq is the most compelling, because he takes some time to cover various elements of his story, and focuses on the human story, rather than just the political one.
Moore has been accused, as he always will be, of being inaccurate. The Christopher Hitchens story in Slate does a better job than most in making its case without losing its cool. It's not that Moore lies, or even bends the truth (much): he's simply bitten off more than even a man of his gigantic size can chew.
At the same time, the story he does tell boils the blood. Beneath it all, once you strip away the Bush-baiting, is a story of haves versus have-nots, of the privileges enjoyed by people of privilege, and of the wage slaves that makes those privileges possible. It's not that Bush puts the needs of the Saudis above those of the American people; it's that the Bushes, like the Sauds, travel in circles that isolate them from the lives of the people they serve. (The same argument could be made of the Kerrys and Heinzes.) Bush is so unrepentant about catering to the desires of the wealthy ("Some people call you the elite. I call you my base.") that it makes me wonder why anyone making less than $200,000 a year (to be conservative) would even consider voting for him. By the time we got to the seminar for companies exploring ways to cash in on rebuilding Iraq, I understood the urges that prompted the French Revolution. I don't just want these people out of office; I want heads on pikes.
Early in the film, there is a scene that was a surprise to me. Congress has to certify the vote of the Electoral College in order for the newly elected president to take office. Ironically, Al Gore, as President of the Senate, has to preside over these proceedings. A challenge, in writing and signed by at least one senator and one representative, is enough to open the floor to debate. One by one, members of the Congressional Black Caucus take to the podium with their challenges, based on what they perceive as the disenfranchisement of black voters in Florida and other places. Not one of the representatives has managed to secure the signature of a senator, however, and so one by one they are forced to leave the podium. The cowardice of the Senate is understandable: by this time, the election of George Bush is a fait accompli, and with only 100 members, the Senate is more of an old boy's club than the rambunctious House, with its 435. At one point, when a representative is asked if she has a senator's signature, she replies, "I don't care that it's not signed by a member of Senate!" Gore replies that Congress does care about the rules, which elicits some laughter and applause. In a greater sense, though, the scene underscores the difference between Gore and Bush. Whatever else you may think of him, Al Gore has always been guided by the rule of law, an inconvenience George Bush has never allowed to get in his way.
posted by John Bliss at
10:21 AM
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