Fresh Paint
Friday, June 25, 2004
In-Freaking-Credible Movie
Just got back from 1st showing of Fahrenheit 9/11 -- nearly packed house at 11 on a weekday morning, big mix of people in audience -- lots of seniors -- but I saw entire families and mix of races as well. As I was leaving noticed that 2 screens (they added a second one since last night) are sold out after 3 pm, so glad I got in.

What a freaking incredible movie! I thought I knew practically everything bad there was possible to know about the bushes, but I learned a few factoids I will not tell you, since you must see the movie yourselves.

Regardless of how jaded you are, and how low your snark supply may have become, you will have tears streaming down your face when you're not peeing in your pants with laughter. Your jaw will have dropped in astonishment and you will forget to chew your popcorn and start choking. The image of Paul Wolfowitz grooming himself and being groomed is one of the most distressing in the whole film (the entire theater went "eeewwwww" at the same time). This is what Moore does best -- charm you with the absurdities and hypocrasies, the fun and games and stunts, and then slam you with the human stories.

The structure is roughly chronological but somehow circles in, as much of his work does, to land on his hometown of Flint, Michigan, and letting the stories of the out of work, the lady who loses a son, the recruiters, the devastation of the neighborhoods be told so that they pull you along.

Have you noticed one phrase you never hear any longer? Military-industrial complex? Moore goes for the Halliburton/Saudi/Oil/Bin Laden story like a hound on a leg. Chilling footage from Iraq we just don't see here. Stories of soldiers and the heavy metal music they listen to as they're blowing stuff up. (Also, whoever did the sound and music editing for this was a genius).

And throughout the entire movie the fey images of Bush float -- because they and he are ultimately inconsequential in the context of the entire ball of crap, almost a rhetorical device, rather than the main character.

That's it. I'm wrung out. Ended with cheering, roaring, standing ovation, and few people left before the (relatively brief) ending credits. Then walking outdoors and seeing a perfect day in June, I had to put my sunglasses on because I started crying.

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