Fahrenheit 9/11
July 14, 2004
I saw Michael Moore's film yesterday, in a preview screening in my village of Pertuis, subtitled. The theater was packed. There were quite a few Americans vacationing in the region. The film is well made, impactful, without heaviness. What emerges is the complete ineptitude of Bush (and his entourage). There's a shocking sequence: when the planes hit the twin towers, Bush is in a school with young children. His aides warn him twice; the second message being, "Mr. President, the nation is under attack." Bush remains completely unresponsive for several minutes—seven or eight, I believe. He is filmed in close-up. After that second message, he seems to have no idea what to do, bites his lips, and resumes the classroom book he had been reading just moments before. He looks then like a sulking child, annoyed. He especially resembles an actor given no script, waiting for someone to write one for him.
Apparently, all of Bush's speeches are written for him. Above all, he's an actor who knows how to position his gaze, carefully manage his expressions and silences, but he's also a puppet. When he improvises, it's simply disastrous. These aren't just mistakes—they're confessions. When speaking to the wealthiest families in the U.S., he tells them: "You are my base."
Moore skillfully focuses on a small number of themes. He deemed it unnecessary to replay the impacts on the twin towers or images of people jumping from windows rather than burning alive. Instead, he shows only the faces—heartbreaking. We see a young woman showing a photo of her husband, father of two children: "Has anyone seen my husband?" The horror of the event emerges from these few shots, handled with great sobriety and dignity.
Meanwhile, we are reminded of the Carlyle Group meeting the day before the event, and Bush's dinner with the Saudi ambassador. We learn that Saudi money represents 6 to 7 percent of investments in the U.S., and the withdrawal of these funds would seriously destabilize the American economy.
Moore doesn't argue—he lets images, people, and facts speak for themselves. We see Marine recruiters in action in poor neighborhoods: "The military, son, will let you travel, pay for your studies." Everything is there. These two men, wearing white caps, strapped into their uniforms, hunt for cannon fodder, talking like two hunters chasing prey. Another sequence, in contrast, sees Moore taking on the role of the recruiter, stopping one of the 325 members of Congress as he leaves a session and asking whether it would be conceivable for one of their sons to join the Iraq war. All of them evade the question, embarrassed. We learn that among these 325 Congress members, only one has a son serving in the conflict.
Sequence on the underprivileged neighborhoods.
"To afford university, the Army is the only option. It's sad, but that's how it is," says a young man of mixed race.
This is where our recruiters operate, playing on every emotional chord.
"You like jazz. But did you know we have some really nice bands in the Army..."
The most powerful sequence comes when Moore follows the fate of a woman from these neighborhoods. At the beginning of the film, she proudly declares that her family has many military members, and she is deeply proud. Her son, nephews, brothers, parents—all are in the military. Her daughter, too, who had been present during the first conflict, the Gulf War. But "thank God, she came back whole."
We see this woman, as every morning, hang her flag with stars by her window. She adds, "We are the backbone of America."
Then everything collapses. Her 20-year-old son is killed when Iraqi insurgents shoot down a helicopter above Baghdad. Her world suddenly crumbles. He is likely the first death in a family of a dozen military personnel, and the tragic irony is that he had just sent her a final letter, which she reads aloud, in which the boy confesses his distress: "We don't understand why we're here. I can't wait to go home." This mother travels to Washington, where one can see the White House surrounded by a high wall, designed to prevent a sniper from simply taking position behind the gates. At a distance, an elderly woman camps on an empty square under a makeshift shelter—a simple plastic tarp protecting her from the rain. She, too, has lost a son, and has surrounded herself with cardboard signs. A young woman confronts her, just as Moore had followed her through her journey of suffering. The woman says, "I lost a son... it's true... do you understand? He died over there..." The other woman, unable to respond, finally snaps angrily as she walks away: "He's not the only one!"
Moore's film is filled with such astonishing scenes. The writing is restrained, evoking that of Chris Marker. I understand why the film received the Golden Palm purely on cinematic grounds. What's astonishing are the contrasts. In the credits, which are quite long, we see Bush, Dick Cheney, Rumsfeld, Condoleezza Rice, all made up. At one point, we see a man repeatedly wetting his comb with saliva to better comb his hair. Who is this man, so vulgarly crude? None other than Paul Wolfowitz, second-in-command at the Pentagon, chief strategist for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. The viewer thinks: "Are these really the people who rule the world?"
In Iraq: first, young recruits after entering the city, saying: "Before combat, we put special music in our ears, turn the volume up loud, and shoot at anything that moves." We're struck by the youth of these soldiers. We meet another mother, Iraqi this time, who lost her family in a bombing. Same anguish, but a different God. The American mother said, "My God, why did you take my son?" The Iraqi one screams, "But Allah, what are you doing?"
Close-ups of Rumsfeld reassuring Americans: "Our strikes are precise, sparing as many civilian lives as possible." Confident declarations about weapons of mass destruction.
"The Iraqis are working to develop nuclear weapons. We have proof they possess weapons of mass destruction capable of striking American territory."
These statements contradict earlier ones by Condoleezza Rice, who had said, "Iraq's industrial capacity was weakened by the Gulf War to the point that the country is incapable of posing a threat to us."
The overall impression is that these people are saying anything, lying. Everything feels like a bad dream, a bad play. In the film, they mention the Carlyle Group meeting—the empire that will greatly profit from arms sales—attended the day before 9/11 by Osama bin Laden's half-brother. On the twelfth, a fleet of planes (not just one!) takes off...