Passion 9/11
◊ It worked out that I saw "Fahrenheit 9/11" twice on opening day. The first was a midnight showing at a local indie theater in pretty, pricey Los Gatos. It was stocked with young, white, college-educated or college-going fans of "The Daily Show." When they laughed, it sounded like they were laughing at punch lines of old, favorite jokes.
The second time I saw the movie was at a packed evening show at a big multiplex in San Jose. The audience was a wide mix of ages and races. There were families there and people with kids who Dean and I thought were too young for the kind of grisly war footage that shows up in the film.
Since I had already seen the movie, I could watch the people around me watching the movie. I could feel the sea of people in the theater, could hear their breath hissing in shock or dismay or disapproval, could hear them exploding into laughter. I saw people crying, flinching, watching the movie with their hands to their mouths. When the credits rolled, the theater filled with applause and cheers. As people filed out of the theater they buzzed like bees, talking about the movie.
I don't think Fahrenheit 9/11 will change lives. It's sloppy and occasionally maudlin and throws around a whole lot of ideas and figures without documenting them too thoroughly, and it'll probably be picked apart for those weaknesses. It's like The Passion of the Christ for the left: it won't change anybody's mind, but it gives its believers a new sense of purpose and something to rally around. I just like knowing that movies -- any art, really -- can still reach people, that we aren't as stupid and lazy and jaded as everyone says.
And hell, maybe it'll help get Bush out of office. That means a whole lot more to me than making sure Mel Gibson has enough cash from Passion to keep his kids in glow-in-the-dark rosaries.