Film Review--The Fog of War

If I had the opportunity to recommend one movie to our current administration, there would be no doubt in my mind that they should watch Errol Morris’ 2003 documentary Fog of War: Eleven Lessons of Robert McNamara. Less a documentary than a monologue from former Secretary of Defense McNamara, the subject describes in cold, factual detail the decisions that led him through is life. Most importantly, he describes the lead-up and diffusion of the Cuban Missile Crisis and the quagmire of death and destruction that the Vietnam War became, only to become worse after he left office.

It is chilling how closely the descriptions of the death in Vietnam, both from American soldiers and Vietnamese civilians, resembles what is now clearly the current situation in Iraq. In audio footage between McNamara and then President Lyndon Johnson in which they are discussing the unwinnable nature of the war in contrast to their complete inability to remove the troops. It gets worse and worse. When McNamara left office, some 20,000 Americans killed in Vietnam. It was here that both the President and Secretary of Defense knew that the war was a failure. In the end, that number more than doubled. How long must we continue today not examining the lessons of the past and forcing ourselves through wars we cannot win?

As a film, I find it very interesting, especially in light of Morris’ other documentaries. Morris’ interview style has proved very effective in bringing to light information that the subjects might otherwise refuse to reveal. Here, though, as a result of McNamara’s training and sheer intelligence, Morris fails to a degree. McNamara has clearly come into this interview with an agenda; he says only what he wants to say. He even states, toward the end of the film, that he learned in his interviews while in office and before to not answer the question asked; instead, answer the question you wish was asked. This adds an aspect of subversion of his previous statements in a similar way to Orson Welles’ statements in F for Fake, the “documentary” that has caused me to challenge my belief in nearly every documentary I have seen since. It doesn’t matter that I can’t understand McNamara’s agenda or that, I believe, Morris’ agenda fails, McNamara is teaching me lessons, and I can certainly understand what he is telling me.

One thing that Errol Morris does very well across the board is making compelling cinema out of what are otherwise interview sessions. The cinematographers make very good, interesting decisions; particularly here, the scene in which numbers drop from planes like bombs while McNamara describes decisions about the deaths of countless Japanese civilians in WWII. Philip Glass composed the score and, while I’m not a fan of Glass when he is left to his own devices, he makes fantastic work when composing scores. Here, he adds tension that could not otherwise exist through McNamara alone. It is good work all around and a fantastic study in both one man’s life and hundreds of thousands of lives stolen.

I wish I could have a screening with Cheney and Rumsfeld (Bush can stay home; he’ll probably talk through the whole thing). It would be nice if they could learn a couple of these eleven lessons of Robert McNamara.