Eyeing the undecided: Filmmaker Michael Moore on the poster for his new movie
By David Gates
Newsweek
June 28 issue - Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 9/11" isn't even out till late this week, and you probably already know what you think about it. Some of the advance reaction has been what you'd expect: Madonna recommending it to her audiences, a conservative group trying to pressure theaters not to show it. True, Fox TV posted a rave review on its Web site—"a tribute to patriotism"—while Tina Brown's column quoted a Kerry supporter in Hollywood comparing Moore to Goebbels. (That Goebbels? And they say Moore is over the top.) But mostly it has been the usual suspects taking the usual sides. For the right, "Fahrenheit 9/11" is a scurrilous attack on the commander in chief in a time of war. For the left, on the other hand, "Fahrenheit 9/11" is a scurrilous attack on the commander in chief in a time of war—and it was about time, though no prudent mainstream Democrat would want to come out and say so. For everybody else ... well, is there anybody else?
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"Fahrenheit 9/11" is that rare documentary that's getting action-flick distribution, opening on 500 screens—and in case you miss it in the theater, the DVD should be out well before the election. Disney's Miramax division, headed by Bob and Harvey Weinstein, bankrolled the film, but Disney head Michael Eisner refused to release it, citing Disney's tradition as a "nonpartisan company"—you know, the sort of nonpartisan company whose ABC Radio division gives a forum to Rush Limbaugh. Moore's camp points to Disney's need to do business in Jeb Bush's state—and since the film is nearly as harsh about Saudi royals as about Jeb's brother, isn't it suspicious that money from one of them, Prince Alwaleed bin Talal, is keeping the financially troubled Euro Disney afloat? Or is that an-other conspiracy theory? If, as some observers believe, Eisner's real motivation was to stick it to his archrival Harvey Weinstein, it backfired. "Every press break that mentions 'Fahrenheit 9/11' is another pin in a Michael Eisner voodoo doll," says a source close to the situation. To make a long story short: Eisner looks like the Bushes' poodle and Canada's Lions Gate will distribute the film—just in time for July 4. Disney will offer a counterdocumentary called "America's Heart and Soul," with panoramic vistas, soaring music and heartwarming profiles of cowboys, gospel singers and handicapped athletes.
The core narrative of "Fahrenheit 9/11" is a lot less uplifting. It goes like this: the Bush administration seized power by a fraudulent vote in Florida and exploited the September 11 terrorist attacks to pump up fear, tamp down dissent, enrich its cronies and, ultimately, to launch an ill-advised war against Iraq—on the dubious grounds that Saddam Hussein was somehow in league with Al Qaeda. (Those darn conspiracy theories!) If this narrative sounds familiar, that's because it's basically what the Democratic Party will be arguing in this fall's election (though it'll cool its grudge about Florida to keep from looking like a sore loser). And since just under half of Americans now approve of Bush's performance—presumably not just because he balked at the Kyoto Protocol—this reading of recent history is hardly a seditious salvo from the extremist fringe. Last week alone, two mainstream bipartisan groups—the 9-11 Commission and a delegation of retired diplomats and generals calling for "regime change" in Washington—made some of the same points Moore does, though without the entertainment value.
And that's the real problem with "Fahrenheit 9/11": not the message, but the method. Lefties love Moore because he's willing to fight as dirty, and with as much contemptuous relish, as the Limbaughs of the world—which is why the right hates him. No one will forget that footage, apparently from a satellite feed, of Paul Wolfowitz putting his comb in his mouth to slick down his hair or of the sub-"American Idol" vocalist John Ashcroft belting out "Let the Eagle Soar" or, far more relevant and damning, of a dazed-looking Bush, filmed by a teacher, continuing to read "My Pet Goat" to Florida schoolchildren after he'd been told of the 9/11 attacks.
True, Moore is playing to a mass audience conditioned by nuance-free entertainment. For some viewers, simply to see Bush in that classroom with his thousand-mile stare would be persuasive enough: they don't need Moore's voice-over saying "Was he thinking, 'I've been hanging out with the wrong crowd'? 'Which of them screwed me'?" For many others, a spoonful of crudity makes the medicine go down. Moore shows uncharacteristic restraint in covering the 9/11 attacks, in which we hear explosions and cries and see only a blank screen. His default mode, though, is overkill: he even notes that on the night before the attacks Bush slept on "fine French linen." Surely scratchy muslin wouldn't have stopped the evildoers.
Is it unfair to ridicule Wolfowitz's hygiene, Ashcroft's unctuously unhip musical taste or Bush's deer-in-the-headlights stare in order to jazz up a serious argument over whether they're leading America in the wrong direction? Sure it is. Is it fun? Depends on where you stand—or on whether you're afraid that too much fun will discredit a serious cause. Will Moore's heavy-handedness persuade anybody who isn't already persuaded? That's where you come in—if you're one of the 27 Americans still in the undecided camp. So sit back and enjoy. Or sit home and boycott. The future of—who knows? Harvey Weinstein? Michael Moore? democracy itself? the minimum-wage dude selling popcorn at your local multiplex?—hangs in the balance.
