Fahrenheit 9/11

If I was Michael Moore, I'd be doing two things right about now: First, I'd be patting myself on the back for the wondrous way in which the media, the political climate and my own savvy marketing has made Fahrenheit 9/11 a monster hit before it even opened; and second, I'd be doing my back-patting from a safe distance, maybe in a cave far, far away, right next to Osama Bin Laden's.

Look up in the sky. It's even money the clouds you see have formed from steam whistling out of George W. Bush's ears. Fahrenheit 9/11 is that scathing, and this is undoubtedly one pissed-off prez. Moore's latest film is more than a simple indictment. It is probably the most damning and disturbing film ever produced about a U.S. President, ripping apart the entire Bush presidency, savaging his family's credibility and coming within a hair of accusing Bush of outright treason.

Fahrenheit 9/11 begins with a fireworks display celebrating the hopeful presidential victory of Al Gore, followed by shock, dismay and apparent treachery as Florida -- along with the entire country -- seemingly slips into Bush's hands via the supposed machinations of family moles planted in Florida, the Supreme Court and Fox News.

But that's just the beginning. Moore's election conspiracy grenade is just the opening pitch. The fireworks really start as Moore delivers the entire Bush family, the U.S. administration, Saudi Arabia, September 11 and, of course, the war in Iraq on a conspiracy platter so thick and tangled it's hard to know when to laugh and when to be truly scared. His evidence is a scattershot of pieces and clues that Moore fuses together by the heat of his beliefs.

But to buy into his sinister conclusions means buying into his level of contempt for the present authority. If you don't, then all his facts appear strung together by spiderwebs.

There is the deep financial alliance between the Bush and the Bin Laden families and Bush and the Saudis. Moore assembles all his clues and suggests the men at the top of the U.S. presidency have been putting Saudi interests and their financial pockets ahead of their responsibility to America. His facts appear solid even if the conclusions are flimsy, but Moore doesn't let that slow him down -- he literally comes within a legal word or two of calling George W. Bush a traitor to his country. Them's alot more than fighting words.

But it's on the subject of the Iraq war that Moore shines best, both as a filmmaker and as a messenger of truth. He puts down his amateur sleuth hat and does what he does best -- interview people. We're taken inside Iraq to see footage of 20-year-old kids fighting a war they don't quite understand, we see horrific, painful clips that would never show up on American television, and we follow a Mother's helpless grief. The latter is an emotionally devestating segment, and it's the most manipulative part of the film. Moore latches onto this woman's gripping story like a lifeboat for his credibility, knowing it offers both emotional punch and undisputed reality. The cost of war is rammed home all the more powerfully because Moore, for once, shuts up and simply allows this story to be shown.

Whether or not you buy the hyperbole, Moore -- the "gadfly" documentarian, the goofy "showman" -- proves he has graduated into an impressive investigative journalist. We see information and video clips that beg the question, "How the hell did he get that!?" It's newshound reporting in the finest tradition. As Moore himself has said, his reputation has grown to the point where inaccessible files and pictures are now offered to him through clandestine contacts. That position can only help his films and it's even more important for his audience, because it grants us access denied to us by networks and the press.

Whether you agree with him or not, it's hard to argue that someone should be doing Michael Moore's job. At worst, he can be accused of being a talented pain in the ass who can't resist running with scissors. At best, Michael Moore may be the gutsiest filmmaker North America has ever seen.
Posted By Anonymous at 6:56:00 PM 0 comments

 

The Unofficial Milk Plus Canon: 1985-1989

Well, our fourth poll is officially finished, and the votes have been tabulated. Thanks to everyone who has participated. Without further ado here are the results of the Unofficial Milk Plus Canon 1985-1989:

10. Crimes and Misdemeanors (d. Woody Allen, 1989) - 17 points

9. Blue Velvet (d. David Lynch, 1986) - 19 points

8. It's a Two-Way Tie:
After Hours (d. Martin Scorsese, 1985) - 23 points
Die Hard (d. John McTiernan, 1988) - 23 points

7. The Dekalog (d. Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1987) - 29 points

6. Full Metal Jacket (d. Stanley Kubrick, 1987) - 30 points

5. It's a Three-Way Tie:
Aliens (d. James Cameron, 1986) - 32 points
Hannah and Her Sisters (d. Woody Allen, 1986) - 32 points
The Killer (d. John Woo, 1989) - 32 points

4. The Princess Bride (d. Rob Reiner, 1987) - 41 points

3. A Fish Called Wanda (d. Charles Crichton, 1988) - 44 points

2. It's a Two-Way Tie:
Brazil (d. Terry Gilliam, 1985) - 56 points
Ran (d. Akira Kurosawa, 1985) - 56 points

And the #1 Film of 1985-1989:

1. Do the Right Thing (d. Spike Lee, 1989) - 70 points

Let me tell you a story about right and wrong. The left hand and the right hand. The left hand is hate. The right hand is love. I hate the fact that most of the movies on my list did not even get close to placing, but I love the list, which I think is the best Canon list yet.

So what does everyone think about the canon? What does it say about the Milk Plus members and readers who voted, you know, besides having a kick ass taste in film and a probable obsession with the Coen brothers? Wait, no, I now mean Woody Allen. Plus, if anyone wants to share their honorable mentions go right ahead, and if you by chance missed out on the voting, feel free to share your own top ten list in this comments thread.
Posted By Anonymous at 7:48:00 PM 0 comments

 

This Post Was Pre-Empted by a Tornado

Not that sitting in the basement of my apartment for 45 minutes really gave me a lot of time to add additional thoughts to these short reviews:

Dawn of the Dead (d. George Romero, 1978) - I’ve learned two things about the coming zombie apocalypse after watching this film and it’s predecessor in Romero’s zombie trilogy, Night of the Living Dead: (1) stick close to the resourceful, commanding black guy, and (2) after shooting all the zombies, save enough bullets for the humans, who are the true dangers in both movies. Though Dawn of the Dead, which is a film that I definitely need to add to my permanent DVD collection, gets a lot of attention for Tom Savini’s groundbreaking gore (now rendered fairly tame by today’s standards) and the satire surrounding the zombies mindless revisiting of the suburban shopping mall in a gruesome parody of their former life, I really appreciated the film for it’s evocation of a post-apocalyptic landscape, a combination of anarchy (the racist cop no longer differentiating between the living African-Americans he is “helping” to evacuate and the zombies) and isolation (the most prevalent feeling, even thought the landscape is populated by the mute zombies); the methodical way the four survivors create a community within the shopping mall (including a pretty swank 70s style apartment), and the resulting respite; and then the final turn of events leading to the rather downbeat ending. Simply awesome, and immeasurably helped by Dario Argento’s pulsating music. After seeing this film, I think it may have ruined any chance of me actually enjoying the remake.

Saved! (d. Brian Danelly, 2004) - Quite simply, I found it hard to peg my feelings regarding the film; it seems like every 10 minutes my opinion seemed to shift, which I think is tied to the schizophrenic attitudes of the story. As one reviewer put it, the film is trying to be both “irreverent and reverent” towards it’s subject of modern evangelical Christianity. With that in mind, I found it easier to summarize my reaction to the film as a whole: I really liked the middle section where Jena Malone’s character (who by the way, is unbelievably frumpy and plain in this role when compared, say, to her role in Donnie Darko), the “ironically” named, pregnant teen Mary, begins to hang out and bond with the other outcasts at her Christian high school: the wheelchair bound agnostic brother of her former best friend (Macauly Culkin); the lone Jewish student at the school, a punkish outcast (Eva Amurri); and the school skateboard rebel, who happens to be both the object of every girls desire and the son of Martin Donovan’s Pastor Skip, the principal of the school (Patrick Fugit, an odd choice for a teenage dreamboat, but hey, what do I know). In the process, Mary gives birth to a true Christian community of love and tolerance, comprised of societal outcasts. Too bad these sequences are sandwiched between an uneven beginning, which inches towards the land of actual satire, but pulls back at the last minute, and a preachy, prom-set finale where the film’s moral treatise is explicitly stated in a confrontation between Mary and Pastor Skip. Though, even the parts I liked were marred by Mandy Moore’s shrill performance, but man, where there some funny lines (the joke about Christian girls and Planned Parenthood, for instance).

Okie Noodling (d. Bradley Beesley, 2001) - I rather enjoyed this short documentary (57 minutes), a slice of regional Americana. The film itself is about “noodling” or “handfishing,” which involves probing a creek, river, or lake bed for holes, in which you stick your hand in hope of inducing a flathead catfish into biting your hand so you drag it out of the water. It’s an eccentric pursuit, and the blue-collar Oklahomans (OK, they’re all pretty much rednecks) that the film initially follows turn out to be colorful and resourceful characters. Apparently noodling is an infectious pursuit, though there is no way in hell that I could be convinced to stick my hand in a hole in the hopes of a 45-pound catfish biting it, with the filmmakers not only taking up the sport themselves, but helping put together the 1st Annual Noodling Tournament. Director Beesley has worked on a couple of Flaming Lips DVDs and music videos, and the band provides much of the documentaries soundtrack.

The Happiness of the Katakuris (d. Takashi Miike, 2001) - Watching Audition and Fudoh the Next Generation did not prepare me for this film, which is my clear, early favorite for the best Takashi Miike film that I’ve seen (thanks to GreenCine, I’m slowly making my way through Miike’s immense oeuvre, or at least, what is available on DVD). An extremely bizarre, and quite funny, black comedy/karaoke-influenced musical with a couple of crude, claymation fantasy sequences thrown in for good measure, the film tells the story of a laid off shoe salesman who buys an isolated vacation hostel on the side of an awakening volcano, and drags his entire family (his supportive wife, irascible father, miscreant son, lovelorn daughter, and his adorable moppet granddaughter, who also serves as the film’s narrator) with him. The catch, the long promised new highway has yet to materialize, and what few travelers appear at their doorstep manage to die during their overnight stay, prompting a lot of singing, dancing, and bonding as the family conspires to hide the corpses so their potential business will not get hurt. The plot is ridiculous, with many, many melodramatic turns; the singing and dancing is crude and amateurish (still loved, the cosmic, matted back drops; the dance of the corpses; and the happy jazz hands of the buried cops and robbers); and the ending is downright weird, but the whole film is actually heartwarming, hilariously funny, and the songs are infectious to boot (I loved the scene where the family finds the first body, as well as Richard and Shizue’s first song). Again, I find myself loving a rough hewn musical instead of such slick Hollywood confection as Chicago.

Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story (d. Rawson Marshall Thurber, 2004) - Hey, I thought it was hilarious. Stupid, but hilarious. "If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball." Loved the frequent cameos.

I also saw The Terminal on Saturday, but I posted about that film under Phyrephox’s review.

By the way, anyone interested in Joss Whedon, The X-Men, comic books, or good storytelling should check out Whedon’s first two issues of his Astonishing X-Men run. Great stuff, with Joss Whedon and John Cassady’s work actually being very cinematic (example, check out the panel montage that concludes the ending of “Gifted Pt. 1”).
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