I arrived at the theatre at 7:22 p.m. Fahrenheit 9/11 was scheduled to
start at 7:30. The film was showing on two screens that night, one of
which, I discovered, was already sold out. When I got inside, I
realized I should have come earlier. Way earlier. The place was packed.
It was all I could do to find a seat.
During the previews, I was astounded as I looked around at the crowded
theatre. This was a Saturday night, in Canada. By all accounts, we
should have been out drinking beer and participating in some sort of
hockey-related event. But we were all here to watch a documentary.
About the United States, no less. On a Saturday night. Perhaps what
Michael Moore said during his Oscar acceptance speech for Bowling for
Columbine was true, I thought. Perhaps we really do prefer non-fiction
to fiction. The question remained, however: In which category did this
film fall?
That
question was answered for me over the next two hours as I watched what
could best be described as an exercise in fear mongering of the worst
kind. Even though this film won the Palme d’Or in Cannes, I have to say
that, as a documentary, Fahrenheit 9/11 is not particularly good. As a
purportedly non-fiction film, it scores even worse. And as
entertainment? Let’s just say it’s no Bowling for Columbine.
Without going into too much tiresome detail, and at the risk of piling
up a small mountain of adjectives, my summary of Fahrenheit 9/11 goes
something like this: unfocused, snide, contradictory, paranoid,
emotionally manipulative, exploitive, and, at some points, outright
delusional. By now, we all expect a certain amount of chutzpah from
Moore. That’s what I love about him. He never fails to see the humorous
side of the serious issues he explores. He’s a master at mixing
information with entertainment, and he isn’t afraid to go out on a limb
to stir up controversy and discussion. But this time, I fear the limb
may have snapped. Rather than tackle a serious issue in a semi-serious
way, as he did with Bowling for Columbine and Roger and Me, Moore
attempts to place George W. Bush at the center of the biggest
boondoggle of all time. For two painstaking hours, Moore does his best
to convince us that Bush is some kind of "Manchurian Candidate" planted
in the White House to serve the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. And he has all
sorts of goofy looks and menacing music to prove it!
While I am not a big fan of George Bush’s administration or the war in
Iraq, Moore lays things on a little too thick in Fahrenheit 9/11, even
for an avowed fan like me. For example, at one point Moore asks us to
believe that “Big Tobacco” pressured the Department of Homeland
Security to allow matches and cigarette lighters onboard commercial
flights so that smokers could light up immediately upon landing, even
though such items could be used to ignite bombs like the one convicted
terrorist Richard Reid hid in his shoes. Or how about this: After
outlining the admittedly extensive connections between the Bushes, the
Bin Ladens, and the Saudi royal family, Moore asks something along the
lines of: “If someone is paying you $400,000 per year to lead their
country but, over the years, the Saudis have paid your family $1.4
billion, when you wake up in the morning, who are you going to worry
most about pleasing: The Saudis or the American people?” Moore’s
premise here is that the only thing that motivates George W. Bush is
money. However, as I listened to Moore draw this conclusion, I began to
wonder who was more concerned about making money off the Saudi-Bush
connection: George W. or Michael M.? As with any blame game, it isn’t
long before the finger you are pointing at others turns around and
starts pointing back at you. (In fact, there’s probably a big, fat
finger pointing back at me right now!)
Refreshingly, Fahrenheit 9/11 does include a couple of Moore’s
trademark publicity stunts, such as when he rides around the Capitol
building in an ice cream truck while reading the Patriot Act over a
loudspeaker or when he approaches congressmen on the street and asks
them to enlist their children to serve in Iraq. Once again, if Moore
had resorted to more of these antics instead of using a conspiracy
theory approach, the opinions he expresses in this film would have been
much easier to swallow, because it would be obvious that he considers
them just that: opinions. Instead, he presents his opinions as facts,
and he expects us to embrace them as such. I’m sorry, but in this age
of 24-hour news and the Internet; such obvious propagandizing just
doesn’t cut it.
That’s not to say Fahrenheit 9/11 does not have its moments. The
footage of young American soldiers talking about the type of music they
like to listen to as they blow up Iraqi neighborhoods with their tanks
is one of the most chilling things I have ever seen. War as a video
game come to life.
Thankfully, Moore balanced these interviews with the accounts of
soldiers for whom killing had become a face-to-face affair. Their
disturbing version of the conflict led me to believe that the
pimple-faced push-button killers in the tanks had yet to encounter the
victims of their carnage firsthand. Taken together, their testimonies,
as well as Moore’s coverage of grieving mothers on both sides of the
conflict, present a grim picture of modern war and its effect on
us—equal parts desensitization and soul-rending tragedy. If Moore had
only stuck with something along these lines, I think this film really
would have amounted to something.
Recently, I expressed my doubts that Fahrenheit 9/11 would change
anyone’s mind about George Bush or Michael Moore. Having been
pre-conditioned by the media to hate one or the other, I proposed that
viewing the film would only solidify people’s preconceptions, because
most would go into the theatre looking to confirm their particular
point of view rather than challenge it. However, in my case at least,
viewing the film had exactly the opposite effect. I went in a Michael
Moore fan. And while I didn’t emerge as a convert to the George W.
gospel, I definitely lost a lot of respect for Moore and his ability to
play fair with the facts. I also have serious doubts about his
preference for non-fiction over fiction. His film may feature real
people and real events, but you don’t have to dig too deep to realize
the yarn he attempts to weave out of this mish-mash of footage and
fallacies is anything but the truth.
At the same time, I cannot dispute that Moore has tapped into at least
one fundamental truth: People are outraged with a political system that
strives to keep them ignorant and powerless. They are tired of an
administration that withholds information from the very people who
elected it, one that uses fear to manipulate them into sanctioning its
agenda, for good or for evil. People want the truth; they demand it.
Sadly, however, truth appears to be in short supply these days. We live
in an age of inquiries and commissions, conspiracies and suspicion. As
an auto mechanic featured in this film says, “You should never trust
anyone you don’t know. In fact, you probably shouldn’t even trust the
people you do know.”
Many people hoped to find the truth in Fahrenheit 9/11. An astounding
number, actually. Even though the film opened on less than a quarter of
the screens of its closest rival, it still topped the weekend box
office. Unfortunately, while people may believe they have found the
truth in Fahrenheit 9/11—people actually applauded the film where I
viewed it—I fear they may have unwittingly bought into the very thing
Moore’s film purportedly condemns: Fear packaged as truth in order to
sway them in a particular direction. This time, however, they weren’t
taught to fear Osama Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, or a host of nameless,
faceless Middle Eastern terrorists. They were taught to fear George
Bush, the American government, their neighbors—even themselves. Jesus
said, “the truth will set you free.” In this case, however, Moore’s
“truth” doesn’t offer freedom. All it provides is a different type of
bondage.