Sunday, June 27, 2004
A Reformed Film Student Looks at Fahrenheit 9/11
Michael Moore’s latest celluloid firebomb, Fahrenheit 9/11 is perhaps the one film I did not expect him to make. This work limits Moore’s onscreen presence in a way that sets this work apart from anything in Moore’s previous filmography. The resulting work feels much more restrained, and less entertaining, than The Big One or Bowling for Columbine, which relied extensively upon Moore’s well-known personality to carry the audience through topics and people that might otherwise be as exciting as CourtTV or CSPAN. Instead of couching this story so much in the framework of Moore’s own experiences (being a lifetime member of the NRA, growing up in Flint, traveling on a self-promotional tour, etc.), Fahrenheit 9/11 puts a greater emphasis on the players in this drama, and their stories.
Equal importance is given to Bush’s early business foibles in Texas, and to a formerly conservative woman who is turned into a bereaved military mom by the war in Iraq. The latter is seen in a particularly gut-wrenching scene toward the end of the film, breaking down in front of the White House moments after confronting a passerby who accused her of “staging” a scene. This woman, physically doubled over in grief, is left alone in the frame. The camera follows her, clearly willing to let her fall to pieces so long as she stays in frame. One is reminded of the scene in Bowling for Columbine where Moore comforts a home-security salesman who is unable to maintain his jovial composure once the topic of conversation turns to the high school tragedy three years prior. That Moore was noticeably absent from the scene on Pennsylvania Avenue, as well as from the majority of the work. That warm, almost cuddly presence has been replaced with a more sardonic and biting narration that guides us through the vast majority of the film. Moore’s voiceover lacks the humor, self-deprecating and otherwise, that he was able to derive from his run-ins with Corporate America in his earlier pieces.
As a reformed film student, I am left wondering why Moore would make such a drastic change to his proven formula. He may simply be tired of being constantly reminded of how fat he has become over the years, but I doubt it. I believe the reasons are slightly more complicated. First, I believe that Michael Moore realizes that this film, because of its subject matter and timing, is more polarizing and politically charged than any of his previous works, and he did not want the content to be confused with his personal reputation any more than was necessary. Secondly, much more of this film comes from second-hand, or archival sources, than any of his previous films. It simply is not possible to digitally insert Moore into the Bush ranch, or onto the flight deck of the U.S.S. Lincoln and maintain any level of believability. Also, to have Moore as a heavy screen presence in some places and absent in others would give the piece a great sense of imbalance (or, greater than Moore was comfortable with). The resulting work, however, is outstanding. It is not a documentary, but it is incredibly compelling, if not overly entertaining. I recommend it, regardless of where you find yourself in the political spectrum.
Michael Moore’s latest celluloid firebomb, Fahrenheit 9/11 is perhaps the one film I did not expect him to make. This work limits Moore’s onscreen presence in a way that sets this work apart from anything in Moore’s previous filmography. The resulting work feels much more restrained, and less entertaining, than The Big One or Bowling for Columbine, which relied extensively upon Moore’s well-known personality to carry the audience through topics and people that might otherwise be as exciting as CourtTV or CSPAN. Instead of couching this story so much in the framework of Moore’s own experiences (being a lifetime member of the NRA, growing up in Flint, traveling on a self-promotional tour, etc.), Fahrenheit 9/11 puts a greater emphasis on the players in this drama, and their stories.
Equal importance is given to Bush’s early business foibles in Texas, and to a formerly conservative woman who is turned into a bereaved military mom by the war in Iraq. The latter is seen in a particularly gut-wrenching scene toward the end of the film, breaking down in front of the White House moments after confronting a passerby who accused her of “staging” a scene. This woman, physically doubled over in grief, is left alone in the frame. The camera follows her, clearly willing to let her fall to pieces so long as she stays in frame. One is reminded of the scene in Bowling for Columbine where Moore comforts a home-security salesman who is unable to maintain his jovial composure once the topic of conversation turns to the high school tragedy three years prior. That Moore was noticeably absent from the scene on Pennsylvania Avenue, as well as from the majority of the work. That warm, almost cuddly presence has been replaced with a more sardonic and biting narration that guides us through the vast majority of the film. Moore’s voiceover lacks the humor, self-deprecating and otherwise, that he was able to derive from his run-ins with Corporate America in his earlier pieces.
As a reformed film student, I am left wondering why Moore would make such a drastic change to his proven formula. He may simply be tired of being constantly reminded of how fat he has become over the years, but I doubt it. I believe the reasons are slightly more complicated. First, I believe that Michael Moore realizes that this film, because of its subject matter and timing, is more polarizing and politically charged than any of his previous works, and he did not want the content to be confused with his personal reputation any more than was necessary. Secondly, much more of this film comes from second-hand, or archival sources, than any of his previous films. It simply is not possible to digitally insert Moore into the Bush ranch, or onto the flight deck of the U.S.S. Lincoln and maintain any level of believability. Also, to have Moore as a heavy screen presence in some places and absent in others would give the piece a great sense of imbalance (or, greater than Moore was comfortable with). The resulting work, however, is outstanding. It is not a documentary, but it is incredibly compelling, if not overly entertaining. I recommend it, regardless of where you find yourself in the political spectrum.
