Forty-five minutes into the movie, I was bawling. I pounded my fist on the table at Bush's elitist remarks. I covered my ears as an American soldier sang "The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire" before rolling into combat in Iraq. I buried my face in my hands as images of wounded and dead Iraqi children flashed across the screen. I left the classroom in anguish, my eyes still red, my head throbbing and my jaw clenched. I must have frightened more than a few floormates as I came storming down the hall, muttering curses under my breath and wiping away tears.
After a rant to my roommate and a walk in the brisk night air, I stopped to think about what I'd seen. I'd known about Michael Moore's rampant biases long before watching the film. I tried to see the movie through a slightly tinted lens, careful to distinguish between what could be taken at face value and what had been exaggerated. Regardless of my efforts, Moore's documentary-his musical selections, his careful juxtaposition of graphic war scenes with Bush's empty speeches-touched a nerve. Many nerves, in fact.
This was, after all, his goal. As a result, I questioned myself for reacting so emotionally. He appealed very well to human sympathy-for which I cannot blame him-though I tried to put each personal story into its proper context. He brought to life the sadness and pain that millions of families have experienced at the loss of a loved one in Iraq-or in any other war, for that matter.
However, I could not forget the crucial point he raised in questioning the cause of the current conflict. As Moore asked why American soldiers were in Iraq and found no satisfactory response, I was reminded of John Kerry's oft-used phrase, one which I agree with staunchly: America is taking part in "the wrong war, in the wrong place, at the wrong time." Remembering that phrase pushed me to tears again and left me wondering what is wrong with the American people for electing Bush again.
After searching for specific reasons for my supreme aversion to President Bush, I finally found countless ones in "Fahrenheit 9/11." Bush's arrogance, his elitism and his too-intimate relationship with various corporations in the United States seem reason enough, without his possible ulterior motives for going to war in Iraq and his disappointing lack of international support. Moore offered me footage, from weeping and confused families to dying children, that fueled my anger toward the president and made me question, as I do nearly every day now, why America is involved in Operation Iraqi Freedom when it has done more harm than good.
After all my pounding and yelling and frustration, however, I was frightened by how quickly the movie had pulled me in. A thought hit me: Isn't anger what initiates these conflicts in the first place? Don't hatred and anger lead to violence? My disgust was a valid emotion, but it had swept me into a fury that I hadn't experienced in a long time. Just acknowledging that fact made me realize how easy it is to get carried away by a cause, whether it is nationalism, support of a particular candidate or religious beliefs. By dwelling on my strong dislike of Bush, I was prolonging the anger that is the driving force behind violence in general. Although it is a huge leap from my ranting and arguments to the anger present in combat, the basic tenet is the same: If anger is allowed to grow, it can be utterly destructive and disastrous.
I had written an outraged e-mail to a family member after seeing the movie. When she wrote back, her e-mail consisted of a few brief sentences, but one in particular struck me. She wrote, "Take your life and surroundings and improve that." Enough said.