Moore Passionate Agitprop
"American culture" is no oxymoron, but rather, is alive and well. I take this view after witnessing the vociferous reaction given to the two recent and splendid works of agitprop otherwise known as The Passion of the Christ and Fahrenheit 9/11.
Neither work qualifies as a fair-minded description of events. Neither is easy to sit through. One filmmaker is not even American, and the other sets a large part of his film well outside of the country. But both are improbable box-office successes that prove a.) American audiences are never too jaded to embrace earnest examinations of well-worn topics, b.) there is no such thing as bad publicity, and c.) nothing beats free publicity.
Think what you will about the two works in question, but just try to tell me that they don't refute the validity of squeamish, wimpish corporate control of the culture. Not that most people think corporate culture control is a good thing--they don't. But media conglomeration and vertical integration on a very large scale is scarily in our midst, and these movies are clear illustrations of why this should not be so. Both had initial difficulties in getting serious backing, and both have succeeded despite the best efforts of many powerful people to will them away.
The best criticism I've heard of Mel Gibson's Passion was by a Methodist minister whose opinion I respect, who simply pointed out that when considering the story of Jesus "you've got to dig deeper" than simply focus on the gore of the Passion. My question to Mel is whether he thinks that those of us who are not in strict agreement with his religious views are destined for hell, as he has most assuredly been taught. Because if so, why should we enrich him further by viewing his movies?
The most cogent criticism I've heard about Fahrenheit so far is how tiring it is to see Michael Moore trudge once again to Flint, Michigan, as if all his filmmaking is verily about him, him, him.
My question to Michael is why he used the theme song from The Magnificent Seven during what was clearly a send-up of the opening of Bonanza. Surely someone of his (and my) generation couldn't have made that mistake. Did he have trouble getting the rights to the correct theme song? Were they too expensive? Did he outsource this task to a younger person who simply got it wrong? Or did his proclivity to shade the truth force him to go with what he thought was a more impactful ditty?
OK, this may seem a bit asinine, but that is exactly what a lot of Moore's moviemaking techniques are. If he can't get a simple detail right, how do we trust the more complex details? If he's just blowing smoke up our hind-ends, why should we enrich him further by viewing his films?
The reason why, in both cases, is because these two people make other people think. They make some people mad enough to burn the masters of these films if they could, or burn their creators at the stake if allowed. They roil our passions, they turn up the heat in our brains and souls, they make us red-faced angry.
These two works have been condemned by many, are said to be capable of inciting violence. They are said to be capable of reinfording prejudice, of spreading falsehoods. Attempts to squelch both of them are well-known and diverse.
Yet the filmmakers and their backers persevered. They are both highly disingenuous, of course, when they claim that their works are "only movies." Their intention, in my opinion, is to create propagandistic set pieces that have immediate and significant, then long-lasting, impacts on society.
And maybe they will. But the irony is that the vast majority of American audiences view these works as "only movies," thus falling in line with the filmmakers' ostensible claim. This should not disappoint. Americans take things seriously and earnestly, and will continue to debate these films for decades to come. We will not, in whole, accept either at face value, yet very large numbers will see and discuss both films.
So Mel and Michael win. Or rather, we win. American culture is alive and well.
7:22:38 PM 
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