The Fog Of War
It is tempting to, and almost impossible not to, review the content of this film, rather than its many filmmaking merits. Robert McNamara, whose many accomplishments in life include 7 years as the Secretary of Defense under John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, talks about war, politics, culpability, and the eleven lessons he learned that every president (or indeed any statesman) should learn to be successful and moral in his or her job. The lessons, in our current political climate, and as illustrated in the climates in which McNamara learned them, are deeply important. They seem self-evident, taken one by one, such as empathizing with your enemy, or exercising proportionality in response to a threat. Taken altogether, one can appreciate what a terribly difficult job politics and diplomacy really is.
Plenty of material in this film is not covered in the history books, for obvious reasons. Some of it is simply because the history books are written by the winners, generally to make the winners look better. McNamara points out that some of US actions taken in World War II would have had us prosecuted as war criminals, had we not been the victors. After witnessing the sobering facts (with footage, tape recordings, and statistics), no one in my group could disagree. Morality, ethics, and defending the indefensible are the focus of the day.
McNamara has been on the inside of some of the most harrowing 20th Century experiences, and his wisdom and sense of loss is as manifest as, well, as our collective destiny. It is hard to be properly shocked at what we watch on the news when we have made the same mistakes over and over again, and so recently. But I digress into the content again. If you saw Bowling for Columbine, you probably had a very emotional reaction to the segment of the film that is tracked with the song “What A Wonderful World.” Even more of this film is sobering in this same way. General Curtis LeMay, of whom I had never heard prior to this film, is a terrifying figure in the stories McNamara tells.
The score by Philip Glass was extremely reminiscent of Caleb Sampson’s score for Fast, Cheap and Out of Control (also by director Errol Morris) - the recollection made the whole presentation more circusy than I am certain the filmmakers intended. Using Morris’ invention the Interrotron, he obtains intense eye contact with the camera from his interviewees. Between interview footage of McNamara, vintage news and military footage, shots of casualty and other death-toll reports, we are treated to aesthetically pleasing footage of reel to reel tape recorders and IBM punch card readers producing the voice over portion of the film.
Intimate Oval Office conferences, footage taken from planes showing the horrific results of bombing as it happens, and vivid illustrations of the death dealt by the US in the name of protecting our interests (but, apparently, never our un-imperiled soil, just some vague notion of “our way of life,” rarely imperiled by civil wars half a world away, but what of it); all this spews from the horse’s mouth with vehemence and defensiveness and also regret and dare I think, relief. It’s a hard movie to watch, but an important one.
MPAA Rating PG-13
Release date 12/19/03 LA/NY
Time in minutes 95
Director Errol Morris
Studio Sony Pictures Classics
