Fahrenheit 11/9 Michael Moore | Review


Published on Nov 08, 2018


After that, two years ago with Michael Moore in Trumpland – In the land of Trump, we had illustrated the dynamics and developments of the electoral campaign for the presidency of the United States of 2016, the documentary filmmaker Michael Moore, who won an Oscar in 2003 for Bowling in Columbine, back to pounding on the nail glowing of the president, Donald Trump: the sequel to perfect his masterpiece Fahrenheit 9/11, one of the eight documentaries able to win at the Cannes film Festival (one of only two to win the Golden Palm, given to him by the jury chaired by Quentin Tarantino), a work that in 2004 railed against the presidency of George W. Bush.

There the title was a mix between the date of eleven of September, and in the famous novel of a dystopian Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, made it to the cinema by François Truffaut in 1966, and Ramin Bahrani in 2018 (read: review of Fahrenheit 451), here to play on the date of the election of the 45th president of the USA of Donald Trump, nine November.

The coincidence makes me smile, the business idea is brilliant, but just like the film of Bahrani produced by HBO was a pale, rather mediocre imitation of the original Truffaut, this 11/9 is not the world, as never, the predecessor to 9/11: clearly too long, very sharp and equally less focused on a target that is precise, the film manages to stand out, and then to emerge from the rest of the numerous, daily, and perhaps more troubling complaints of anti-Trump.

Sold as the film that would finally put to carpet the administration of the misogynist, racist, and super forced entrepreneur riciclatosi political, Fahrenheit 11/9 is yet another cry of populist that the tip of the finger, on news facts known, a pamphlet denouncing a king already naked, which mocks sneaky instead of going straight to the point. Moore to move the viewfinder from the front of the occupant of the White House to the heads of those that house gave him the keys (the Democrats are inept and corrupt) and focusing mainly on the incredible and outrageous treatment to the town of Flint, Michigan and its inhabitants.

It is the most beautiful part of the film, and in theory should be the central focus (the idea is that the fate of Flint will be the same as the rest of the United States if the 100 million abstained, which allowed the victory of Trump will not be felt) but all the rest is very bland, a little punchy, almost always deprived of that emphasis that has distinguished the best work of the filmmaker. Also from a visual point of view, the ideas bigger than this film (the watering of the garden of the villa of the governor scoundrel, Rick Snyder, to go into his office armed with handcuffs), those that remind us of the cinema almost of inquiry of recent years, are only the echoes of the old Moore, more energetic, sharper, more determined, more Moore.

When you then want to be more daring, more unfair and aggressive, that is, when get to compare Trump even Adolf Hitler, not only the comment comes to us out of time (the comparison has already been done by others, and more effectively) but it is also cinematically trivial, with the idea of mounting footage of the nazi leader to the voice of the president of the USA that seems sprung from a brainstorming session of the course of video-makers under the house.

Fahrenheit 11/9 is what happens when the policy is so unfair that the politically incorrect pales in comparison: do we take note, but don't go out enriched nor changed.

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