Fahrenheit 9/11

So after all of the controversy and hand wringing carried out in recent weeks, Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 gets a widespread release. It is, as if it needs to be said for a man who has made a cottage industry out of being an inconsistent antagonist, an utterly one-sided diatribe, and one which verges on a personal attack on George W. Bush. Indeed, he seems to take a little too much delight in making the American President look like a fool - not a terribly difficult task in itself, one suspects. Despite blurring the line between documentary and full-blooded attack, Moore's style is an extremely accessible one, even when he's etching the shady links between the Bushes and relatives of Osama bin Laden. Although he

skilfully uses quick-fire, easy-to-digest, attention grabbing facts to paint a sorry picture of the state of American democracy, Moore is still not beyond making ill-judged wisecracks - a sequence involving Britney Spears is, at best, cheap and unnecessary.

Thankfully he doesn't impose himself as much as he did with his last film, the preachy Bowling for Columbine. Limiting his screen time is an advantage, but Moore is prone to bouts of severe self-righteousness, especially when he's talking to those whose point of view he agrees with. Worthy contributions are marred by Moore's insatiable desire to prove that he's also one of the good guys.

But when it all comes together as it frequently does, Fahrenheit 9/11 is a powerful denouncement of a nation in a moral vacuum, with a sideline in human-interest case studies. Nowhere is this more evident than with the tragic Lila Lipscomb, whose long-standing faith in the American military is shattered by her son's death. It's here that Fahrenheit 9/11 manages to say something insightful, not only about the short-term policies of the current

administration, but of the class discrepancies in American society. I just wonder what this self-confessed man of the people is going to do with all the millions he's already made from this movie.