Fahrenheit 9/11

Review By: Jennifer Krieger
JenniferKrieger@TheCinemaSource.com

I must admit, I’m a little bit daunted by the prospect of writing a review for Fahrenheit 9/11. So much has already been made of this movie’s controversial subject matter and the politics surrounding Disney’s refusal to release it; so much has been made of its standing ovation at the Palm d’or Film Festival, and the various awards it has garnered; and so much has been made of its director, Michael Moore’s brilliant, invasive and often manipulative techniques as a documentary filmmaker. The director, the production and the film itself has already garnered considerable hype, and going into it, many audience members will wonder whether the movie could possibly live up to all the electric buzz it had generated. All doubt disintegrates before the opening credits even roll; this hoopla is well-earned. This movie lives up to the hype and packs such a sensory punch that viewers may leave the theater in various states of disarray, dazed, bruised and a little battered. And all the better for it.

With his first two documentaries Roger and Me and Bowling for Columbine Michael Moore established himself as a brash and incendiary film-maker. And while some might question his methods for ascertaining and presenting information, no one can question his devotion to his cause. Yet in these first two films his cause was often undermined by a certain lack of focus and slap-dash zealotry that didn’t allow for nuanced, balanced or fair presentation of facts. The concept of ‘truth’ is murky and multi-faceted, and Moore seemed so determined to assert that his truth was the only truth, that his sight was clear, and his presentation unbiased, any chance for fair debate got buried in the wake of his vehemence. It is hard to pinpoint exactly what separated Fahrenheit 9/11 from these first two efforts, indeed it also suffers from Moore’s one-sided presentation of information presented as facts and his unwillingness to even consider opposing arguments, yet it marks a shift in Moore, as a documentarian and a director. And this shift can best be seen in the segments when Moore turns the camera away from his provoking, “everyman-on-a-mission” persona and allows it to linger on his subjects. The devastatingly young American soldiers describing how cool it is to listen to The Bloodhound Gang’s “The Roof is on Fire” under their helmets as they bomb the streets of Baghdad and the wails of an Iraqi woman who renders the coolly impersonal term ‘Civilian Casualty’ into something suddenly, irrevocably personal. These images resonate far more then Moore’s mocking shots of the president and his staff getting made up for the camera or his cheeky musical interludes. Moore is angry in this film, angrier perhaps then he has ever been, yet this anger affords him a surprising amount of lucidity; He has chosen to let the camera linger, unflinchingly, on the pain, both physical and emotional that the war in Iraq has reeked. Whether you buy ...