The Two Hours' Hate
In truth, this post has been simmering for a while, even before I saw Michael Moore's latest. But I figured I should at least see it before I slam it. And it's a good thing I did, because, truth be told, I'm even more irate than I thought possible.
I don't even know where to begin and I'm quite frankly not even going to try; I have neither the writing skills nor the research discipline of some of the people who have already torn this movie to shreds. To be sure, there was the usual Moore-movie paraphenalia: the skillfully-plucked camera shot that makes his opponent look like a moron, the same stuff that the Daily Show does with John Kerry on a nightly basis; the amusing comic-reelish mockery of an opposing viewpoint, which, by the way, preys relentlessly on a parade of racial stereotypes just a few minutes after hinting that all Republicans are stock racists; the list goes on, and it's familiar to anyone who's ever seen a Moore movie in the past.
But the greatest irony of all was Moore reading a quote from 1984. Because if anything in this movie, packed as it was with moronic conspiracy theories and all sorts of proto-fascist alarm bells, was plucked from Orwell, it was the concept itself. Fahrenheit 9/11 is the feature-length version of the Two Minutes' Hate: one massive exercise in emotional manipulation, designed to beat viewers over and over again with raw imagery and clumsy innuendo and sobbing parents and forlorn soldiers until their brains are unable to comprehend anything else but The Message. And throughout, never too far away, is the smirking face of The Enemy and his shadowy neoconservative Brotherhood, reminding everyone exactly where to direct their newfound hatred. Hence immediate reactions like this. And hence the devastating analyses that have poured in from the realm of rational thought, a place several days removed from seeing this film.
Which, of course, means that I probably shouldn't be firing this off a couple of hours after the movie let out. But this movie is everything I hate about politics wrapped up into two hours. It infuriated me on levels that Bowling For Columbine couldn't even begin to touch. The subtext is simple, especially during an extended rant about the media: Question everything you see. (Except for this movie.) All "facts" need checking. (Except the ones I supply.) No one is telling you the truth. (Except me. And don't you dare doubt it.) It is propaganda at its absolute, most intolerant and stifling worst, the province of the Coulters and Hannitys and Brocks and Chomskys, the kind of idiotic crap that tells you the slimmest possible version of the truth without brooking argument. Is there possibly anything more insulting than the man whose screams for "open debate" are intended to kill any sort of debate at all? Possibly nothing, except for the fact that Moore's hordes of half-witted followers are going to do exactly that. They're going to buy this schlock without even thinking for a second, "Hey, was there anything in this movie that was possibly inaccurate?" They're going to see it six times and memorize lines of voice-over as talking points. And then they're going to run out and get into arguments with people like me, telling me I'm the idiot sheep without even a hint of irony. And when that happens, for all of his moralizing, Michael Moore is going to sit back and feel very proud.
I don't even know where to begin and I'm quite frankly not even going to try; I have neither the writing skills nor the research discipline of some of the people who have already torn this movie to shreds. To be sure, there was the usual Moore-movie paraphenalia: the skillfully-plucked camera shot that makes his opponent look like a moron, the same stuff that the Daily Show does with John Kerry on a nightly basis; the amusing comic-reelish mockery of an opposing viewpoint, which, by the way, preys relentlessly on a parade of racial stereotypes just a few minutes after hinting that all Republicans are stock racists; the list goes on, and it's familiar to anyone who's ever seen a Moore movie in the past.
But the greatest irony of all was Moore reading a quote from 1984. Because if anything in this movie, packed as it was with moronic conspiracy theories and all sorts of proto-fascist alarm bells, was plucked from Orwell, it was the concept itself. Fahrenheit 9/11 is the feature-length version of the Two Minutes' Hate: one massive exercise in emotional manipulation, designed to beat viewers over and over again with raw imagery and clumsy innuendo and sobbing parents and forlorn soldiers until their brains are unable to comprehend anything else but The Message. And throughout, never too far away, is the smirking face of The Enemy and his shadowy neoconservative Brotherhood, reminding everyone exactly where to direct their newfound hatred. Hence immediate reactions like this. And hence the devastating analyses that have poured in from the realm of rational thought, a place several days removed from seeing this film.
Which, of course, means that I probably shouldn't be firing this off a couple of hours after the movie let out. But this movie is everything I hate about politics wrapped up into two hours. It infuriated me on levels that Bowling For Columbine couldn't even begin to touch. The subtext is simple, especially during an extended rant about the media: Question everything you see. (Except for this movie.) All "facts" need checking. (Except the ones I supply.) No one is telling you the truth. (Except me. And don't you dare doubt it.) It is propaganda at its absolute, most intolerant and stifling worst, the province of the Coulters and Hannitys and Brocks and Chomskys, the kind of idiotic crap that tells you the slimmest possible version of the truth without brooking argument. Is there possibly anything more insulting than the man whose screams for "open debate" are intended to kill any sort of debate at all? Possibly nothing, except for the fact that Moore's hordes of half-witted followers are going to do exactly that. They're going to buy this schlock without even thinking for a second, "Hey, was there anything in this movie that was possibly inaccurate?" They're going to see it six times and memorize lines of voice-over as talking points. And then they're going to run out and get into arguments with people like me, telling me I'm the idiot sheep without even a hint of irony. And when that happens, for all of his moralizing, Michael Moore is going to sit back and feel very proud.
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