Fahrenheit 911

I am admittedly partisan and irritated about the attacks on Michael Moore, but that supercharged malignment is nothing new. For as long as we've had films, we've had blatantly political filmmakers, and political editorializing, whether in form or effect, has always existed in art. All the while, one could hear shrill voices around the artists and their artifacts, squawking that the artists and the artifacts ought to be neutral, fair and balanced, respectful of their leaders and patrons. Unlike Berthold Brecht, Moore won't be questioned by the House Un-American Activities Committee, and while I hope he has hired some security, it's unlikely that he'll be lynched or even tarred and feathered. True, Glenn Beck's radio show spent the better part of three hours on Friday engaged in a "Find Something Fatter than Michael Moore" contest, and Bill O'Reilly compared Moore to Joseph Goebbels, both of which seem pretty low; still, it could be a whole lot worse (and will perhaps be considerably worse, in this and other ways, if George W. Bush manages to etch out a second term).

Perhaps it's easier for me to blow off the more juvenile criticism directed at Moore because Fahrenheit 911 opened to sold-out theaters all over the country, including my own home of Laramie, Wyoming. I felt exhilarated when I heard our showing had sold out, because the dialogue inspired by the film, evident before, during (grr) and after the film is precisely the kind of thing Laramie needs. In contrast to what you've probably heard about the film, it raises, doesn't lower, the intellectual and moral levels of political discourse in America. Viewed mainly by those of the same general political orientation as its director, but by a substantial amount of other viewers curious to see "the other side," Fahrenheit 911 is the sensible answer to another controversial film, The Passion of the Christ. Call this "The Passion of the Poor and Working People Economically Conscripted to Fight in a Bullshit Corporate War." It may not be Moore's best, but it works, is working. People are talking politics (many for the first time), Bush is in trouble, and I no longer feel like I live in a pliable, demoralized funny farm.

The film is, of course, competently entertaining. Once could, I suppose, enjoy it without thinking too much about politics. My very political friend Rob Fergus wrote that "the funniest parts of the movie were more cute than anything, less ironic or even sarcastic than earlier films, though brutally anti-Bush." Rob mentions the Bonanza send-up, which produced a very primal belly laugh from the whole audience, and a feeling of high school-style satire. I think this is an important point about what separates Moore from other pundits. He has an undeniable silliness that mitigates his militancy, and is a rhythmically methodical humorist.

Moore is at his best when, passive-aggressively, he confronts or is confronted by those in power--members of congress, security guards, Bush himself. In Fahrenheit 911, he spends the obligatory time trying to petition congressperson to send their own children to Iraq, fending off Secret Service agents who inexplicably guard the Saudi Embassy in Washington, following two Marine recruiters to the shopping mall. I was struck by the odd, localized places in Moore's films where genuine humor emerges (perhaps a humor more heartfelt and important than the Bonanza or Peter Gunn sendups), and nothing epitomizes that better than the facial expression of the endless supply of politicians and bureaucrats--Moore doesn't so much lampoon them as allow them to lampoon themselves. Of course, Moore's ability to draw attention to facial expressions also allows him to effectively pull off his "seven minutes" argument, the disturbing scene where George Bush displays total befuddlement, or perhaps something else, when informed that the nation is under attack.

But Fahrenheit 911 shows a newer Moore. We see more seemingly mundane scenes of everyday life than in his previous films, and long, uncomfortable takes of family members (both Iraqi and American) weeping and cursing their oppressors, feeling cheated that their sons and other loved ones were killed for reasons that had nothing to do with them. This is where Moore has never been better. Scenes of dead, mutilated children, including one being placed in a truck full of bodies, will lead viewers through politics into intimate morality--a morality which asks Alyosha's question in the Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov: Would you torture and kill one small child to save the world (albeit from an evil but rather incompetent dictator). Even a reviewer at foxnews.com was moved by story of Flint, Michigan mother Lila Lipscombe, who

sends her kids into the Army for the opportunities it can provide — just like the commercials say — and lives to regret it. Lipscombe's story is so powerful, and so completely middle-American, that I think it will take Moore's critics by surprise. She will certainly move to tears everyone who encounters her.

As another reviewer writes, "Moore minimizes his presence and places his arguments center stage" and I believe that's an accurate description of a notable difference between Fahrenheit 911 and its predecessors. So all things considered, this film made me laugh, cry, and think, which at least makes it better than A Beautiful Mind, which only really made me cry--a lot.

What do we say about interpretable facts, clear instances of spin, selective histories? My only question is why we are ourselves so selective, and spin so much, when doing so. There isn't much more to it than that, really. On every message board I'm on, there is at least one Moore-hater who is livid, spitting bile all over Moore, for daring to market propaganda as documentary. There are pointless discussions about the definition of a documentary. Again (say it with me): these condemnations and hair-splittings are selective, arbitrary, their adherents driven by their own transparent political biases. It's one thing to have a discussion about the extent of the Saudi ruling class's influence on Bush (given the substantial financial connections that undeniably exist), or the problematic Saudi response to the September 11 attacks. It's unreasonable, however, to hold Moore up to standards of intent and precision that the Moore-haters would never force upon the Bush administration. At least Moore's facts are, verifiable and falsifiable, available for public scrutiny, unlike the web of half-truth and secrecy he so effectively attacks. By all means, let's bring everything out into the open and sort the facts out, eh? Eh?

What about Moore's treatment of the Saudis? Xenophobic? Perhaps. I will say, insofar as this kind of populism sometimes relies a foreign or outside enemy, Moore deploys this effectively albeit, perhaps, unthinkingly. But his emphasis is on the relationship between the Saudi ruling class and a section of big U.S. money, connected by each sides' oil interests. Both countries' rulers are content to make Iraqis the whipping boys and girls in the dialectic of hegemony and resistance. And if the Saudis are overplayed as sinister, it's only in the larger context of a cynicism each of these ruling classes have helped to create, with Bin Ladins allowed to fly out of the country when nobody else could fly, and references to Saudi Arabia getting deleted from government reports on the September 11 attacks. It would take a certain sophistication in political theory and ethics possessed by neither Moore nor, apparently, Ralph Nader, to avoid seeming a little nationalistic when talking about the sinister entangelements of our leaders.

It doesn't surprise me that I am more excited about the political space this film has opened up than the artistic excellence of the film itself. There is a whole lot to enjoy about the movie if you're a political junkie of any orientation, and if even half of Moore's allegations about Bush are true, this only confirms that Bush is the worst president of our generation. I strongly suspect that many more than half are true. But although nobody should ever say the truth is unimportant, the ability to speak it is at least as important, and that's what makes Moore's style and success especially significant.