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thehefnerBRILLIANT article from Time Magazine by Andrew Sullivan. Now, I *will* see Farenheit 911, but I am still reluctant. Moderately liberal and anti-Bush as I am, I am really starting to hate Michael Moore, and this article sums up my feelings really, really well. And even as someone who rather liked Passion of the Christ, I can't deny Sullivan's reasoning here.
I wholeheartedly insist people give this essay a read, and I welcome any feedback. Especially from those who have already seen preferably both films.
Sitting in the movie theater watching Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 amid an audience utterly riveted by a movie speaking to its deepest emotions, I kept getting a sense of déjàvu. Where had I felt such crowd dynamics before? And then I remembered. What I was sensing was eerily similar to the awestruck devotion I had noticed in another audience—this time of Fundamentalist Christians—as it watched Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. Both movies were appealing to what might be called their cultural bases. They weren't designed to persuade. They were designed to rally the faithful, to use the power of imagery to evoke gut sentiment, to rouse the already committed to various forms of hatred or adoration.
Gibson and Moore—two sides of the same coin? Absolutely. There are times when the far right and the far left are so close in methodology as to be indistinguishable. And both movies are not just terrible as movies—crude, boring, gratuitous; they are also deeply corrosive of the possibility of real debate and reason in our culture. They replace argument with feeling, reasoned persuasion with the rawest of group loyalties.
Compare a few of the techniques. Moore argues that the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were designed only to enrich the Bush family with oil money. For Moore, Sept. 11 wasn't the cause of the war on terrorism. It was a pretext for corruption. He cannot prove this, and so he tries to bludgeon the viewer emotionally to that conclusion. He uses innuendo, sly editing, parody, ridicule and somber voice-overs to give his mere assertions a patina of truth.
Similarly with Gibson's movie: there is no historical evidence that Jesus endured anything like the sadistic marathon that The Passion lovingly re-creates. But it is portrayed—at fantastical length and in excruciating detail—as historical fact. This is, Gibson wants you to believe, "as it was." Quibble with Moore, and he will accuse you of siding with the devil. Quibble with Gibson, and he will accuse you of opposing God.
Both Moore and Gibson use ominous, swelling music. Both give us manipulative scenes of mothers grieving over dead sons as the emotive climaxes of their work. Both clean their narratives of anything that might give them depth or complexity. In Gibson's case, this requires removing any thorough treatment of Jesus' message—the whole point of his suffering. With Moore, it's accomplished by omitting critical pieces of evidence or context—Bush's success at decimating al-Qaeda's leadership or the vileness of the police state of Saddam Hussein. These facts might add to your understanding. But they would detract from your ability to hate the President.
It is a sign of how far the culture war has gone that almost no one condemns both movies. If you're a Fundamentalist red-stater, Gibson is a hero. If you're a leftist blue-stater, Moore is, in the words of the New York Times, "a credit to the Republic." The truth is that both movies are different but equally potent forms of cultural toxin—poisonous to debate, to reason and to civility. And the antidote is in shorter and shorter supply.
I wholeheartedly insist people give this essay a read, and I welcome any feedback. Especially from those who have already seen preferably both films.
Sitting in the movie theater watching Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 amid an audience utterly riveted by a movie speaking to its deepest emotions, I kept getting a sense of déjàvu. Where had I felt such crowd dynamics before? And then I remembered. What I was sensing was eerily similar to the awestruck devotion I had noticed in another audience—this time of Fundamentalist Christians—as it watched Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. Both movies were appealing to what might be called their cultural bases. They weren't designed to persuade. They were designed to rally the faithful, to use the power of imagery to evoke gut sentiment, to rouse the already committed to various forms of hatred or adoration.
Gibson and Moore—two sides of the same coin? Absolutely. There are times when the far right and the far left are so close in methodology as to be indistinguishable. And both movies are not just terrible as movies—crude, boring, gratuitous; they are also deeply corrosive of the possibility of real debate and reason in our culture. They replace argument with feeling, reasoned persuasion with the rawest of group loyalties.
Compare a few of the techniques. Moore argues that the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were designed only to enrich the Bush family with oil money. For Moore, Sept. 11 wasn't the cause of the war on terrorism. It was a pretext for corruption. He cannot prove this, and so he tries to bludgeon the viewer emotionally to that conclusion. He uses innuendo, sly editing, parody, ridicule and somber voice-overs to give his mere assertions a patina of truth.
Similarly with Gibson's movie: there is no historical evidence that Jesus endured anything like the sadistic marathon that The Passion lovingly re-creates. But it is portrayed—at fantastical length and in excruciating detail—as historical fact. This is, Gibson wants you to believe, "as it was." Quibble with Moore, and he will accuse you of siding with the devil. Quibble with Gibson, and he will accuse you of opposing God.
Both Moore and Gibson use ominous, swelling music. Both give us manipulative scenes of mothers grieving over dead sons as the emotive climaxes of their work. Both clean their narratives of anything that might give them depth or complexity. In Gibson's case, this requires removing any thorough treatment of Jesus' message—the whole point of his suffering. With Moore, it's accomplished by omitting critical pieces of evidence or context—Bush's success at decimating al-Qaeda's leadership or the vileness of the police state of Saddam Hussein. These facts might add to your understanding. But they would detract from your ability to hate the President.
It is a sign of how far the culture war has gone that almost no one condemns both movies. If you're a Fundamentalist red-stater, Gibson is a hero. If you're a leftist blue-stater, Moore is, in the words of the New York Times, "a credit to the Republic." The truth is that both movies are different but equally potent forms of cultural toxin—poisonous to debate, to reason and to civility. And the antidote is in shorter and shorter supply.
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do they actually teach "critical thinking" in college any more?
Date: 2004-07-07 11:38 pm (UTC)for one thing, moore's thesis is not, in fact, that "the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were designed only to enrich the Bush family with oil money." [this scans more like what someone who, ahem, hasn't actually seen the film would say it was about.]
how off-base an assertion is this? it's like saying that the empire strikes back is a movie about a coup on bespin that was engineered by yoda by keeping luke distracted in caves instead of letting him confront his cousin vader. and this (stupid and wrong) paraphrase of moore's film is compared to the fact that there's no historical proof that jesus was tortured but that gibson's movie treats it as historical fact.
setting aside the fact that there's no historical proof that jesus EXISTED AT ALL, the fact is that gibson is telling the story of the passion, which pretty much means you're telling the STORY of the goddamned PASSION. here's a rewrite of that paragraph, with the same exact cadence towards a different subject.
Similarly with Branagh's movie: there is no historical evidence that Henry V spent any time at all in a pub with a guy named Falstaff. But it is portrayed—at fantastical length and in excruciating detail—as historical fact. This is, Branagh wants you to believe, "as it was."
the big problem that most conservative pundits like sullivan has with f9/11 is not with the "lies" that moore tells. because just about every statement in the film is a peer-reviewed fact. just about every critical response you read doesn't talk about the validity of the points that he makes, but rather about his value as a storyteller, his abilities as a filmmaker, his marginalizing use of allegory and innuendo to infer conclusions from sloppy juxtapositions (fox news NEVER does that -- surely not, no) -- anything, anything at all, except an actual rebuttal. by positing (incorrectly) that moore's film stifiles debate (while drawing meaningless and vapid comparisons with whether or not a fictional portrayal of a dogmatic event is dogmatic enough, or fictional enough, or whatever the hell he's trying to say there), sullivan goes right ahead and acquits himself from actually having to respond to the charges of moore's thesis. (even while taking umbrage, for example, with william raspberry writing a review of the film in the washington post instead of taking the time to prove every single one of moore's points, as if that was raspberry's responsibility).
what you haven't heard, and will not hear from sullivan or any of his ilk, is a genuine response to moore's film. because not only are his facts real honest-to-gosh facts, many of his conclusions are actually pretty goddamned compelling arguments.
but, then again, most conservatives i know won't even see the movie (because it's "propaganda" -- actually, "op-ed" is more apt, since propaganda implies lies and moore pretty much only uses facts -- and they don't like propaganda because it makes them feel all oogie, or they don't like michael moore, or what have you), so it's not like i'm ever going to hear any legitimate reasoned response from the other side of the fence.
kmh
no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 08:43 am (UTC)Movies are no longer self-contained works of art. A movie is also its poster, its website, its reviews, its buzz, its viewers, their perceptions, their responses. It would be virtually impossible for me to enjoy either of these films, for the things tacked on them have made them very, very ugly. Now, I could enjoy, say, Hudson Hawk, and defend it from its detractors, for they are not terribly fervent. But these two are much harder to defend. I have easier movies to enjoy.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-08 03:11 pm (UTC)Ours is not a nation of circumspection, of spiritual or holistic personal practice. Those elements who purportedly try to encourage such, too often turn out to be attempts to capitalize on a credibility gap's gullibility fill, as seen from the input (sucking) end.