This article was originally published on Spectator USA.
Fahrenheit 11/9 is a cheap burger of a film. Michael Moore wedges a thin gristle of protein between two spongy buns. You get the odd kick of mustard, and an occasional wince when the pickle strikes home, but most of the time you’re plowing slowly through an indigestible pabulum, in which the cynicism of the business model is exposed by sloppy assembly and lukewarm taste.
This is too bad, because Michael Moore could have used this film to do his customers a service. Instead, he has actively performed a disservice, by wedging serious concern about the health of American society between two digressive sub-plots, only one of which is handled well. Worse, after zigzagging between the two, he arrives at a historically frivolous and morally corrupt conclusion. The journey isn’t exactly pretty, either.
Fahrenheit 11/9 claims to explain the Trump presidency, and what it augurs for American democracy.
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