Fahrenheit 9/11

See this film. Now.

I know Michael Moore is preaching to the choir: most of the people seeing Fahrenheit 9/11 are folks who agree with Moore's views about President Bush and American politics. Ann Coulter's fans are about as likely to stand in line for Fahrenheit 9/11 as Michael Moore's fans are to buy "Treason" and "Slander." It's foolish to say things like "I wish everyone in America would see this film," because it's just not going to happen.

What I like most about Moore's films is not the way he unravels an issue: it's how he refuses to tie everything back up. If Fahrenheit 9/11 were a book, it would be a series of essays, each one missing the critical, final paragraph that's supposed to sum up all the facts and draw tidy conclusions. It's a film that asks more questions than it answers.

In Roger & Me, Moore trekked around Michigan in a fruitless attempt to interview General Motors' CEO. Analyzing it today, it's easy to see that the film wasn't really about that interview: it was about the decline of Moore's hometown of Flint, and the changing face of corporations, and all the reasons why Moore wanted to interview the CEO in the first place.

In the same way, Fahrenheit 9/11 gets its power and poignance not because it targets President Bush and the current White House administration, but because Moore searches for meaning and not merely answers.

So, again I reiterate: See this film. Now.