TONY PORCO'S MOVIE REVIEW NEWSLETTER (BELATED SUMMER EDITION)

Hey, folks--here, at long last, is the first newsletter of the year 2004! I promise that I will get at least one more out before the end of the year. I must warn everyone that this issue is unusually political, due to the fact that I am reviewing at least one overtly political movie (Fahrenheit 9/11) and one more that has some political overtones (Super Size Me). As you might guess, it was pretty much impossible for me to review these films without making any reference to my opinions. While I can't apologize for that, I can tell you that if you have any severe disagreements with what I say here, you might be surprised how well I can get along with people who don't see eye to eye with me on a whole range of things. I can also tell you that I have included one almost-totally-apolitical movie (The Station Agent) just to balance things out a bit. All of that said...

FAHRENHEIT 9/11: The latest movie by irreverent left-wing filmmaker Michael Moore isn't meant to be fun or entertaining, although it is screamingly funny in places. The real purpose of this documentary, as most people already know, is to express just how much Moore hates George W. Bush, how Bush lied to get into office and to get us into war with Iraq to cover up his inability to prevent or retaliate for September 11, and how much he needs to be booted out of office. I have no problem with any of that (I certainly can't stand Bush, myself, and I pray every day that he gets booted out of office), and Moore does make his case, but it sometimes seems like he does it in spite of himself. Moore is way too eager to believe ridiculous conspiracy theories (he reprises the idiotic we-invaded-Afganistan-for-their-gas idea, thoroughly discredited by the noted right-wing magazine The American Prospect). He also seems to lack a sense of proportion, or fairness; for (only one) example, he rightly takes the Bush administration to task for not doing enough to prevent terrorist attacks, but doesn't direct enough of his outrage at the people most responsible for the attacks, those who perpetrated them. Sometimes, he indulges in good-old fashioned TMI: did we really need to hear John Ashcroft sing, or to see Assistant Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz (a prominent pro-war leader in the administration) practically eat his comb to get it wet enough to keep his hair down for a TV appearance? In the film's lowest moment, we see happy pictures of Iraqi children playing, as if Moore wanted us to believe that Iraq was some sort of earthly paradise before the big, bad US invaded it. Luckily, this doesn't go on much past the first third of the film; once we get to the real subject, Moore really does make a powerful case about the costs of war, and does his part to demolish the administration's shoddy reasons for war (like the non-existent link with Al Qaeda) and probe some of the untold reasons (the profits that flowed from the battlefield through an inexplicably non-competitive contract to a company that Vice President Dick Cheney used to run, Halliburton). Moore is a master interviewer; he knows when to be confrontational, but he also knows when to let people say their piece. A series of scenes with a woman from Moore's hometown whose son was killed in Iraq really are heart-rending, as is the footage of dead and dying Iraqi children, a tough thing for the father of a young child to watch. Moore wisely keeps his presence minimal during these scenes, although he does use his technique of ambush interviews to good effect elsewhere, showing up on Capitol Hill to try to "recruit" lawmakers to sign their own children up for the armed forces. Moore is also a master of the quick, cut-them-down-to-size edit; although he uses the technique one too many times, it can be blistering at its best. Never has American pop culture looked more inane and brain-dead than in a scene where Moore cuts abruptly from an Iraqi woman distraught over the destruction of her house to an interview with Britney Spears in which the pop star insists that we should "trust our president in every decision that he makes" (I wonder what conservatives would have made of that statement if it had been made in, say, 1998). It helps that to his great credit, Moore does not fall into the traps that have snared some other antiwar activists. There are no half-hour-long diatribes about every real or imagined thing the US has done wrong since 1776, no angry antisemitic words directed at Israel, no rationalization of how America really "deserved" 9-11. Moore also lightens up the whole cut-them-up thing with clips from old movies and TV shows (during the invasion of Afghanistan, Bush, Don Rumsfeld, and the gang become the cast of Bonanza!). This gets silly at times, but it does provide most of the movie's lighter moments. The great irony of the film may be that for all of Moore's editing and interviewing and footage-finding, the most damaging thing may be a clip that Moore doesn't have to mess with at all. It's the one where we see our esteemed president being interviewed by the media at a golf course, expessing shock at a new act of terror in the Middle East--and then, moments later, telling everyone to watch his golf swing. Yes, Michael Moore may be irritating and a bit of a jerk, but the real irritating jerk is the one in the White House, and I hope and pray that this movie, for all its faults, does its part to get him out of there come this November. RATING: 7.

SUPER SIZE ME: Filmmaker Morgan Spurlock was understandably suspicious when he heard McDonald's advertising claim that regular visits to the fast food giant can be part of a healthy diet. He decided to test the claim on himself by eating nothing but Mickey D's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner--for a month! He also traveled around the country (is it just me, or do people always travel around the country when they're doing documentaries like this?), interviewing professors, healthy-food advocates, cooks, McDonald's customers, lobbyists, nutritionists, and politicians. The result is a remarkably entertaining documentary, both funny and a bit frightening at the same time. It's at its most entertaining when we're hearing about Spurlock's strange adventure--when he interviews the talking heads, the things they say are often interesting, but these scenes end up being more like a TV news program than a movie. They simply can't compete with the real story, which is Spurlock, his system, and the happy meals that don't always leave his system happy. (Of all the talking heads, Spurlock's girlfriend, who is ironically a professional vegan cook, comes off as the worst, sounding pompous and arrogant. Her presence is still a net positive, however, since she does such an admirable job of putting up with his eccentric project as only a loved one would.) Like many documentaries that push a certain point, this one oversimplifies a bit, and raises some issues without really exploring them in the depth they deserve. We meet a man from Texas who has eaten Big Macs every day for years, but nevertheless remains very thin, without hearing any real insight into what makes him different. I also wonder how much home cooking (which can be very fattening) and a lack of public transportation in most of the country influence Americans' high levels of obesity. Another problem: Spurlock does an admirable job questioning our culture's insistence that women's bodies conform to an impossible, fashion-model ideal (a scene in which Jared Fogel, the famous Subway weight-loss spokesperson, lectures an overweight teenager on how she has to change, since the world won't change for her, made me want to hit Fogel over the head with a hard Subway roll), but he also shows one too many closeups of random Americans' fat behinds. All that said, this is one of the most enjoyable documentaries I've seen in a long while (although I tend to enjoy that kind of film a lot anyway), thanks to Spurlock's unusual story and light touch. It may end up being one of the most successful films of all time in its genre--I am really curious to see how it does when all is said and eaten. RATING: 8.

THE STATION AGENT: When an old friend dies and leaves Fin McBride (Peter Dinklage) a train station in a small New Jersey town, the longtime train buff moves there without delay. Fin hopes for some solitude, but soon his hopes are dashed by two loquacious neighbors--Joe, an (overly) friendly young coffee vendor (Bobby Canevale) and Olivia, an artist with a troubled recent past (Patricia Clarkson). Not everything is likable about these two, but something intangible distinguishes them: it never occurs to them to treat Fin any differently because he is a dwarf. Like many of the other movies that I've seen in recent years about improbable relationships--Central Station, Finding Forrester, Strawberry and Chocolate, and even In the Heat of the Night, now that I'm thinking about it--Thomas McCarthy's terrific film takes a slow and relaxed pace. This ends up being quite wise, because it makes the connections seem much more believable (it also makes a nice break from the slam-bang, rock-video-derived camera work of many a recent Hollywood movie). Meanwhile, Joe's wisecracks and general abrasiveness keep the movie from getting dull, as does Dinklage's great stage presence and dignity. He seems to make it clear from the first scene that this is his movie; with a face like Costner and a bearing like Brando, he conclusively proves that one needn't be tall to be commanding on screen. Later, the script gets a bit more melodramatic and doesn't always ring true, but the ending is truly fantastic. I have to admit that this movie is consummately an indie film, complete with all the trimmings: a low budget (a mere $500,000, which is chump change by Hollywood standards), excellent acting by mostly-unknown performers, a likably real-life script, an unglamorous location (rural New Jersey), and limited distribution. That may narrow its appeal to many, but it doesn't narrow its appeal to me. RATING: 8.

Until next time...

TONY %)