Erik Pepple asks that question, considering your mind is almost certainly already made up. But he does his best to shed some light on Michael Moore's hot button film.
By Erik Pepple
210 west Pop Culture Editor [send email]
What are you doing reading yet another review of Fahrenheit 9/11?
Odds are you already have an opinion. Either you’ve seen it and you’ve drawn your own conclusion(s) or you’re going by what you’ve heard on TV or read in the papers and have your own theories without having set foot in the theater.
Another review isn’t going to change anyone’s mind about whether you do or do not want to see muckraker Michael Moore’s clear-eyed assault on the failures and arrogance of the Bush administration.
So to get this out of the way: Fahrenheit 9/11 is biased. And it’s rabble-rousing. But it’s also undeniably powerful and easily Michael Moore’s best and most vital film.
Moore’s polemic (and make no mistake, this is more of an op-ed piece than a traditionally defined “documentary”) is a broad-ranging attack, not just on Bush and his neo-con cronies, but on political hypocrisy of every stripe. This is a big, ambitious film and in its broad reach it attempts to cover a lot of ground-from the election 2000 debacle to Bush’s shady ties to the bin Laden family/various oil interests to the war in Iraq and its effects on the body politic.
In the opening scenes where the disastrous Florida election is recapped, Moore not only takes aim at some of the more interesting coincidences that led to Bush’s “victory” (his cousin was running the news desk at Fox News that night and Katharine Harris, Bush’s co-campaign manager, was helping to tally Florida votes), he also indicts the Democrat senators who stood silently while numerous minority voters were purged from the rolls. In a disturbing sequence, unseen by me during the 2000 election, member after member of the Black Caucus challenges the disenfranchisement of the minority vote, while fellow reps and senators sit quietly, unsupportively. And later on Michigan Democratic Representative John Conyers, in a disturbingly funny scene-mostly because it realizes our fears about our representatives- reveals that no one really pays attention to bills.
After the film’s opening salvos against the election and Bush the Younger’s ties to Saudi Arabia, Moore settles into developing one of his favorite themes, first advanced in Bowling for Columbine, that America is run on an engine of fear. The only way Bush has managed to continue this perpetual war, Moore argues, is by engendering fear through color-coding terror alerts to a complicit media advancing unfounded accusations of WMD to the shaky, nigh non-existent ties of Hussein to Al Qeda. In a darkly funny sequence Moore splices together footage from morning talk shows and news magazines with numerous talking heads discussing all aspects of possible terrorism-from pushing the theory that terrorists could poison cows to a guy marketing a skyscraper parachute. Sequences like these showcase Moore at his best when editing found footage into a montage of overheated, reactionary rhetoric.
But the film’s snarkiness and humor gradually dissipates. In fact, of all Moore’s films, this is the one he appears in the least. Relegating himself to sober narration and an occasional appearance (and only 2 of his patented pieces of gonzo street theater) Moore becomes secondary to the material. Perhaps it’s a tacit acknowledgement that he’s aware of how infuriating his presence is to many folks or perhaps it’s because he knows the footage he has obtained from soldiers, embedded journalists, and other various sources mostly speaks for itself. Whatever the reasoning, it’s a smart choice. By remaining in the shadows, Moore has given even the most resistant member of the audience an entry point to examine the theories and opinions he puts forth.
In fact, by the end of the film as he interviews Lila Lipscomb, a mother who has lost her son in the Iraq war, he has essentially exited the picture. This is by far the most powerful section of the film, as it does not utilize conjecture nor does it offer any opinions (although anyone can divine what greater point Moore is trying to make), it simply lets this mother tell her story and in a heartbreaking fashion puts a very human face on the war. Coupled with footage of interviews with soliders and families along with scenes of day to day life in pre-war Baghdad, Moore has defused a lot of possible criticism by stepping away from the mic and letting everyone speak for themselves-for better or worse. Moore’s depiction of the military is respectful; in fact he praises the servicemen and women. His scorn is not ladled on those who have to fight these wars of choice, but on those who send them in harm’s way without once thinking of the consequences.
In the long run there will be fact-checkers coming out of the woodwork. And that’s perfectly fine; this is how you engage in a debate. But for those who have been paying attention, much of what Moore puts forth is already on the public record. Does he offer the information through clever editing? Yes. Does he utilize lots of sarcastic humor? In the opening scenes, yes, but along with being a 21st century Ida Tarbell, he’s also mining the vein of righteous moral outrage and incisive social satire of Mark Twain. Does he offer lots of questions and theories without much follow-up? Well, yes, but Moore is trying to start a dialogue and trying to get you to think about the questions he puts forth.
Whatever your feelings on Moore and his tactics, for a government that tried hard to prevent photos of caskets returning to the U.S. and did its best to imply that “everything is OK, just trust us,” Fahrenheit 9/11 is a sobering, galvanizing reminder that at all times, people's lives are at stake, and the future of this country is at stake.