http://www.phlogredux.org/messages/54393.htmlJack the Brit went to see this movie in NYC, and has this to say:
Michael Moore is an American hero. I’m not kidding. I think it was about a third of the way into “Fahrenheit 451” that I fully understood what Moore is doing with this movie. He’s giving Bush supporters a taste of their own medicine, and he’s doing a better job of administering it than them. It was the endless shots of Bushes – junior and senior – glad-handing and gurning with rich Saudi businessmen and royalty that really made me get it. Look, you Bush fans – your hero is right in bed with a bunch of towel-heads! Maybe you can quibble about the figures Moore gives: does Saudi Arabia really provide about SEVEN PERCENT of America’s wealth? Or is it 6.5? Get Googling, righties; maybe you’ll be able to tweak the precise figure down a few tenths of a percent. Maybe even two percent. Go for it. But you can’t deny those pictures. You can’t deny the footage. There they are, grinning and shaking hands with their Saudi business partners... “so good to see you again!”. What’s that you say? What does it matter if the Bushes were, and are, up to their squitty little eyeballs in Saudi oil deals? A matter of political opinion. But what matters to those of us who hate them, and you, is the reaction in the audience to those pictures and those figures. You could SMELL the loathing. Result.
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The shots of Bush in that classroom, after being told that the country was under attack... you’ve all read about this, but when you *see* it, it will shock you even more. The only thing the Bush fans have been able to offer by way of defence for this is that Bush was trying to show that there was no panic. The sad saps who actually managed to force that crap out of their mouths are going to be squirming on their fat Republican arses when they actually *see* this shot, because the look in Bush’s face is SHEER, STUNNED PANIC. Anyone with the slightest sensitivity to body language will look at that pathetic excuse for a man and see the shifting, glazed eyes of a stunned rabbit. He sits there – for seven long minutes – not even reading out loud to the children as I’d believed – just nervously fingering his copy of “My Pet Goat”, those glassy eyes staring without focus, looking at the floor, looking anywhere but into someone’s face. This is a man rendered immobile and impotent by panic and fear, and there it is... captured on camera. Undeniable. And the reaction in the audience is palpable. You could feel them thinking the same thing: “This is our leader... this is how he reacted to the worst ever attack on our nation. This man is USELESS IN A CRISIS. He does not have ONE CLUE what to do. He’s frozen.”
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The ending of the movie is priceless. A summation of the whole point made in Bush’s own messed-up words and echoed by Moore with savage irony. Cut to credits. The crowd went wild. Cheering and huge applause and a sense that people were seriously angry and ready to kill. Let it spread. But above all, let it last until November and beyond. This is a full-frontal assault on the Bush junta, make no mistake. And Bushies – don’t doubt for a second that it’s effective. If you do doubt that, go see it and just feel the hate in the cinema. Yeah, go do that. Go feel the hate, motherfuckers. This isn’t a documentary, it’s a declaration of war.Go read the whole review, and enjoy the spreading heat!