Written and Directed by Errol Morris
USA; 2008
We're at a cultural point where intellectual coolness, a plea for middle America humanism, and blogs in the NY Times about the vague metaphysics of documentary photography can't justify a failure to make a real statement about why things are wrong in the world and who are the culprits. Mr. Morris, at a talkback after the Tribeca premier of his latest piece of polished softcore, made for great entertainment by pointing his finger to the ceiling and shouting in his characteristically cartoonish timbre (perhaps what the offspring of Betty Boop and Foghorn Leghorn would sound like): "This thing goes all the way to the top!" Apparently the PFC's responsible for the Abu Ghraib debacle can rest easy, because according to Errol Morris, George W. signed the Code Red. He also went on to name a CIA member involved in the torture proceedings hinted at in Standard Operating Procedure, although none of this stuff is in the actual film. He continued to generally made a bleeding heart lefty case for the untold human story. Sorry, Errol, but while 1999's Mr. Death was saved by a fascinating fringe aspect and the fact that Holocaust Revisionists are hardly ever taken seriously, in 2003 you had the devil himself on the stand and couldn't, or wouldn't, make him say what every progressive thinker in this country needed to hear. The Fog of War backed down from what could have been a revelation from the life of former Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, rather than a watered-down "lesson" where, among other silly pontificating, the modern world's colonial rottweiler tried to take Ralph Nader's credit for automobile safety rather than admit that it was he who orchestrated and perpetuated the Vietnam War, America's biggest ever foreign policy failure. Well, second biggest at least.
Which brings us to Iraq. Morris described at the Tribeca screening how he couldn't gain clearance for interviews with any of Abu Ghraib's offending GI's, nor did he find any Iraqis involved in the incidents, nor would any high-ranking US officials speak to his Interrotron (the camera and video playback system he uses for interviews so that it appears his subjects are speaking directly to the audience). I'm genuinely surprised nobody over in the Bush clubhouse would speak with him, considering how good he made McNamara look in 2003. Bush Sr. and his buddies are perfect protégés of the original empire gangster, maybe they could have used an Errol Morris film to improve public image in the eyes of lefties who cling to Errol Morris and his political jello-spine in the same way that people who shop at Whole Foods and build giant houses in the middle of untouched forests think they're environmentally-conscious. Anyway, Morris couldn't get any of those really good interviews, so he put together a crappy humanist story about the innocent 21-year-old privates who didn't do enough jail time for their lack of decency. He also made some half-assed comments about the power of photography and its ability to tell a story (but, shocking! it's not the whole story). Slap some Robert Richardson photography in there, close-ups of blood drops, an ace with Saddam's face, and a paper shredder. Call up Danny Elfman and ask him if he can do a Philip Glass impression. You've got yourself another hit, man. But instead of a real money shot, we're left only with simulated. Errol Morris is becoming the Shannon Tweed of the doc world.
