Errol Morris's Fog of War is a superb documentary and one of the best films of the year. Its penetrating look at Robert S. McNamara does something that few movies succeed in doing: it prompts the audience to ask its own questions. We become part and parcel of the interview that is unfolding before our eyes: at times we feel sympathy toward McNamara, at times we are disgusted by him. The movie is not an apology, not a defense, and not an indictment. It is simply an endlessly thought-provoking inquiry that asks more questions than it answers, as the title has already implied.
Morris's documentary actively engages the audience in more ways than any film I've seen this year: it doesn't necessarily implicate us, the way Capturing the Friedmans, or Morris's earlier The Thin Blue Line (1988), do, but it does make us part of the process. Morris himself is never seen and rarely heard: when we do hear him intervene for the first time, it's jolting, as if some fabric has just been ruptured and the film's mode of perception has been drastically altered. What has actually happened, of course, is that we the audience have heard our own voices spoken for us, our own thoughts expressed. The effect of Morris's prolonged silence in the film's beginning is to create a palpable link between filmmaker and audience during the interview footage: after all, both parties are silently watching the same thing—the same framed shot of McNamara as he sits and talks. As in most movies, we the audience sit without saying a word (theoretically), but our thoughts race, and we voice questions in our mind. To hear such a question suddenly and unexpectedly voiced onscreen (though, of course, behind the camera) indicates a certain allegiance of roles, as if Morris has vicariously adopted the position of intervening audience member, or the audience, for its part, has become the filmmaker. I have never seen an interview filmed in such a surprising way. Obviously, interview footage always implies a certain connection between filmmaker and viewer, but none exploits this link the way Fog of War does. The whole point of Morris's film is that what McNamara says is not a full explanation, not an apology, and not a total confession: in the end, he only offers more questions in response to the questions Morris/we ask him. Parts of Fog of War may feel on the surface like an ordinary PBS special, with the same familiarly ambiguous tone, but I believe it to be one of the most groundbreaking nonfiction films in years.
Now that I've tried to explain why I loved this movie, it's time for me, in true Fog-of-War style, to ask my own question. Why are there so few copies of the film in circulation? The movie premiered at the New York Film Festival on October 11, and as of yet it has still not reached my hometown, despite a good number of arthouse and independent theaters in this area. One of these theaters informed me that there were a very limited number of Fog of War prints for cinemas to show in the country. Why? Morris's film stands a good chance of winning an Oscar for the year's Best Documentary; it has received rave reviews; Morris is already an established documentary filmmaker, with works like Gates of Heaven (1978), The Thin Blue Line, and A Brief History of Time (1992) to his credit. All this got me to wondering . . . Although Fog of War was mostly shot before September 11, its portrayal of the Vietnam War now conjures up all sorts of connections with our current situation in Iraq (see Ellen Goodman's article for a more in-depth description). I have heard, to no surprise, that prominent members of the Bush Administration do not care too much for the film. Could they have pressured distributors to keep Fog of War from being widely circulated? This is, after all, an election year, and similar things have happened: let's not forget CBS's decision to refuse to air the MoveOn.org anti-Bush ad during the Super Bowl. I could just be spouting conspiracy theories here (after all, this is a movie weblog, not a political one), but if anyone has any feedback or comments to offer, I'd love to hear them. All I can say for now is that the situation sure looks shady. . .
Yeah, but for the benefit of those of us who don't know who this guy *is*, perhaps some explanation of the subject matter is in order?
Otherwise why would I give a good damn about seeing this flick? (Which sounds interesting given your description.)
Posted by: Stephen | February 03, 2004 at 04:59 AM