Published
in LiP Magazine
[http://www.lipmagazine.org]
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THE FOG OF WAR
Errol Morris
RadicalMedia/Sony Classics, 2003
reviewed
by James Adams
03.06.05
Rarely are moviegoers offered an intimate glimpse into the mind of a war criminal. In Errol Morris' latest film, The Fog of War, former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamera is given a chance to present an account of his own life, his experiences, and his take on the Vietnam War—and presents a more damning picture of himself than he possibly could have intended. Morris faithfully documents the sentimental musings of an 87-year-old McNamara as he presents eleven life lessons drawn from his experiences in the Office of Statistical Analysis in the Army Air Corps, as the president of the Ford Motor Co., and as Secretary of Defense under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. From the irrational behavior exuded by key players in the Cuban Missile Crisis—nearly leading to the nuclear annihilation of the planet —to the disproportional amount of firepower deployed against Japan during WWII, McNamara's parables shed light on the mistakes of past policy makers that are frighteningly similar to the decisions being made by today's world leaders.
Errol Morris' non-invasive style may come as a surprise, given his subject. In a style unlike most modern political documentary, Morris allows McNamera to speak freely, without much in the way of hard questioning or editorial condemnation. McNamera's own words are more than enough for the audience to form a critical opinion of the man. Morris' Interrotron (a modified teleprompter/camera) projects Errol Morris' face over the lens of the camera, and thus causes his subject to continually hold eye contact with the audience—giving McNamara's narration an added intensity when combined with the haunting melodies of Phillip Glass' orchestral score.
Like most contributors to the pre-meditated decimation of civilian population centers in the Third World, Robert McNamara has yet to be held accountable for his culpability in the destructive processes that accompanied U.S imperial aspirations in Vietnam. One can't help but wonder how a supposedly moral society could produce a man who would utilize knowledge gained from the study of philosophical ethics (at UC Berkeley) and statistical analysis (at Harvard) for the purpose of firebombing thousands of Japanese civilians during WWII and millions of Vietnamese, Lao, and Cambodian civilians during the Vietnam War.
The evasive manner in which McNamera addresses the Vietnam War seems to be an attempt to distance himself from the disastrous domestic and international results of the conflict. Newly declassified White House recordings used in the film portray McNamara as reluctant to escalate the conflict, yet his claimed ignorance of the actual events surrounding the Gulf of Tonkin incident (when testimonial evidence from the crew of the Maddox points to the contrary) gives the impression that McNamara is engaging in historical revisionism—or suggests that something about his role in the conflict continues to create cognitive dissonance. McNamara recounts the process of assessing the effectiveness of bombing sorties over Japan during WWII (using algorithms to calculate ways to minimize troop loss and maximize damage to the Japanese) without betraying an ounce of regret. He explains the initiation of Operation Rolling Thunder (a bombing campaign on South Vietnam that deployed three times the tonnage of all bombs dropped during WWII) without displaying a hint of any emotion. The apparent ease with which he explains his role in the incineration of hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians is disturbing—especially when contrasted with his sobbing as he recalls the moments immediately after the death of John F. Kennedy. Director Errol Morris offers scant interruption as the audience is left to analyze the lukewarm confessions of a man whose mistakes resulted in the direct devastation of four countries—and countless human lives. [ L i P ]