Kelly WandBowling For Moore
August 26th 2006 01:39
I can’t exactly call him the poster boy of the anti-capitalist, anti-war movement. Nobody would want to wake up and see that face grinning down at them from their bedroom wall. Besides, there has been too much deforestation as it is without making impossible demands on the paper industry to produce life size facsimiles of this great man.
It doesn’t matter. He has grown beyond that now. Whatever the political left has in place of sainthood, Michael Moore seems destined to wear that mantle. When I told friends and acquaintances that I was going to write this little character assassination, they looked at me as if I was the kind of beast who ate her own children, drowned poor wee kittens and farted in elevator cars for fun. Saint Michael, it seems, can do no wrong - unless, of course, we’re are talking about his physical attributes.
This is the main arena where his critics seem to seek redress. Whilst it is true that the only reason he did not make a film like “Super-size Me” was that, after thirty days of only eating Mackers, there would have been no discernible change to his girth - I don’t intend to aim the sabre of my wit in that direction. It would be too easy a target. Point your arrow anywhere in the Western hemisphere and, at worst, you’ll score a glancing blow. It’s like calling the Pope a Catholic and George Junior stupid. I mean... you only just noticed?
All my concerns about Mr Moore do revolve around size but do not concern his actual physique. My father used to say that one should never trust a reporter who made himself larger than the story he is reporting. As Moore’s story seems to concern the fate of the whole world, one shudders at the size of his monstrous ego. He would have us believe that he straddles the globe like a mighty colossus, playing nagging conscience to a world of corporate greed.
Another thing I find so annoying about Mr Moore is that his technique - for want of a better word - is so “big boned”. It was Alanis Morissette who tried to teach the world that irony was like “rain on your wedding day.” She, of course, had failed to grasp the meaning of the word in much the same way as Comrade Michael has trouble with concepts like subtlety. Why use a deft touch when you can stomp something into the ground, put up a banner headline and triple underline it in red? For good measure, you could always drive around the streets of Washington in an ice cream truck, spreading the good news with a megaphone, just in case nobody got the point that you made thirteen minutes earlier. Still, it’s one way to stretch a potential twenty five minute documentary into a two hour theatrical presentation. Yes, the word bloated does spring to mind but I promised you folks that I wasn’t going to go there.
I have often been told that people who vote to the left of centre are dry and somewhat humourless individuals. I never really believed that until I saw the queues for the “Fahrenheit 911” sneak previews. Maybe these people need a bullying clown to nudge them in the ribs and ask repeatedly “Do you get it? Do you get it now?”
These are folk you generally find sipping Chardonnay, whilst criticising the state of tabloid journalism. Moore, meanwhile, is no better than your typical gutter press screamer. His polemics are like a grunge version of those glossy weekly women’s magazine you find in doctor’s waiting rooms. Courtney Love’s latest drug bust is just replaced with Bush’s latest foot in the mouth outrage. Brother Michael provides social commentary for the “Jackass” generation in a language they can easily understand. Why come up with an alternative solution when you can empty the contents of a septic tank on the CEO of a multinational conglomerate. Yo! Dude! Bleat it out for me. Four legs good! Two legs bad! These punters are amazed at the content of the film. For the next three days, all I heard was “Is that really what happened?” and “Did you know that?”
Well, actually I did. This was a film about compilation rather than revelation. There are no big surprises in Fahrenheit. You see, there are these things called newspapers. If you pick up the heavier ones and turn to the “International News” section, it’s surprising what you can learn. You could also try getting your news off of SBS every now and then. It couldn’t hurt.
But let’s talk about those preview screenings. In Sydney, the so-called sneak previews of this supposedly banned epic exceeded any potential theatrical release. How’s that for a marketing triumph, comrades! Let’s get this straight. Just because Disney didn’t want to distribute the damn thing doesn’t mean it was banned. If they were really that concerned, they could have just stuck it on a shelf somewhere to accumulate dust for years. That has been the fate of many an unwanted pictures written off as a tax loss. The fact that they didn’t speaks volumes. In fact, if Disney had really wanted to put the stoppers on the thing, they do happen to employ one or two thousand lawyers quite capable of filing an injunction here or there. If they hold a contract to distribute the film, one would imagine they would be entitled to do that. Even without going down that path, a corporation of that size still wields enormous power. The threat to withdraw Touchstone and Disney product from any cinemas screening the offending film would wipe away any signs of dissent from the faces of even the most principled theatre owners. Did that happen? No it did not - but pull up any punter in the queue and they told you that they were there because this could be their only chance to see this “banned masterpiece.”
Moore has been pushing out the same gags in different guises for quite some time now. His all time favourite trick is to embarrass a large company by having victims of said company parade outside head office. Who can forget the delights of the tracheotomy choir outside of the cigarette company? Is it just me or does this strike you as reminiscent of one of those travelling freak shows that have all but vanished in these allegedly enlightened times? It is not as if these antics are adding dignity to anyone’s life. If they did, it would break Moore’s formula of rage and vexation. The company may be temporarily embarrassed but it doesn’t do anything. Why should it? When every one sees what a bunch of bastards they are, their share price will probably go up three points. The protesting participants get nothing besides fifteen minutes in the shadow of Moore’s fame and that is a mighty dark place. As for the big man himself, he picks up another season on television and sells a few more copies of “Stupid White Men”.
Think about “Bowling for Columbine”. When the mega Mart chain is faced by a protest involving a victim of the massacre, it belatedly realises that selling teflon coated cop killer bullets to all and sundry may not be such a good idea after all. Most film makers would chalk that up as a major victory. Not our Michael! He looks more irate about the “good news” than he does about the issue he was supposedly protesting. His war on corporate greed has been turned into a massive publicity coop for his enemy! And he’s the one who did all the work and got the media out there in the first place! What will he do with the kid in the wheel chair? Where’s that opportunity to exercise his patented sense of indignation? How can he further vent his spleen?
Not to worry. He can go off and see poor old Chuck Heston of the NRA. There’s a guy who looks just about ready for a dementia ward. There’s no hope of getting a sensible word out of someone who can’t remember what day it is and thus there is no possibility that the table will be turned. Heston can do little more than look like a fool and Moore still goes at the poor senile bastard like a wolf goes after an aging stag separated from the herd.
Personally, I would take no pleasure in kicking a man when he’s down. Moore, however, is on top of the world right now so I’m aiming a steel capped toe square at his testicles. Maybe you disagree with my assessment. Even if that is the case, you’d have to admit that I wrote this piece completely within the style of the man himself!
Just for the record, “Fahrenheit 9/11” is a much better film than “Columbine”. For a start, there’s a whole lot less showboating going on. The scene I mentioned involving the ice cream truck is brief if unnecessary. The scene where Moore confronts a Congressman and invites him to send his own sons to war is not particularly revealing. Did anyone really expect him to say yes? Rather than crusader, Moore comes across as a man coming at you with a tatty bible in one hand and a begging bowl in the other.
Anyway, all the narrative conveyed in these scenes has been displayed elsewhere in the film to far more convincing effect. Still, their use is far more constrained than “The Awful Truth” or “Bowling for Columbine.” Maybe Moore is actually learning from his excess.
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Comment by Damo
For the Sake of Argument
My Apologetics
I did like “Fahrenheit 9/11” but it did not live up to the hype. No deep revelations, just a kind pamphlet answer sheet as to why we should hate the war.
Comment by Bob Short
B
Comment by JohnDoe
Film & TV on DVD
He uses the same tactics as the news media do to get there PC babble across. I dont have to agree with him to at least appreciate he is putting forward another POV in this one sided world.
Fortunately his work is entertaining and for those who dont read or keep track of current events hopefully he inspires others to go look for the facts.
As for the "I like to be told what to think" people, at least hes offering them something more than blind compliance.