By Susan Granger
Special to WestportNow
Documentarian Michael Moore has been called a muckraker, prankster and populist prophet for his political propaganda films (“Roger & Me,” “Bowling for Columbine,” “Fahrenheit 9/11,” “Where to Invade Next”), designed to elicit an emotional response.
“Fahrenheit 11/9” references the date on which Donald Trump became 45th president of the United States. How did a reality TV host become commander-in-chief? How did that happen?
Moore whimsically references the fact that Donald Trump was irked that NBC paid Gwen Stefani more for “The Voice” than he got for “The Apprentice,” asserting that the salary disparity inspired the ‘fake’ news conference which inadvertently launched Trump’s presidential campaign.
“We helped create a situation that has allowed us to end up with Trump,” Moore asserts. “The dumbing down of our society through the media, the lack of education through poor schools, allows for a dumbed-down electorate, and for him to actually get 63 million votes.”
Being the provocateur that he is, Moore further details Trump’s obsession with Russia’s Vladimir Putin, compares Trump’s ascension with Hitler’s fascism in Germany, and chronicles Trump’s smarmy infatuation with his daughter Ivanka.
That segues into the lead pollution of Flint, Michigan’s water supply and inherent governmental corruption, skewering not only Gov. Rick Snyder but also then-President Barack Obama, who made a show of sipping the local water, along with Hillary Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer and the rest of the entrenched Democratic establishment.
In contrast, Moore lauds insurgent politicians like Michigan’s Rashida Tlaib and New York’s Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez before turning his cameras on David Hogg and Emma Gonzalez, survivors-turned-activists from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.
Edited by Doug Abel and Pablo Proenza, it’s scattershot agitprop. But I did learn the origin of the term “redneck.” It refers the red bandannas that West Virginia Union members wore to signify their loyalty.
On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Fahrenheit 11/9” is an incendiary 7, a savvy ploy to encourage more women, young people and people of color to vote in the November’s elections.
Despite an intriguing premise, the true crime thriller “White Boy Rick” fails to deliver, primarily because the trio of screenwriters don’t maintain a focused vision, wavering between a fractured family saga and the rise-and-fall of a crime lord. Since nothing is fleshed out, it’s not emotionally involving.
Richard Wershe Jr.’s story opens in Detroit a few years before he (Richie Merritt) was arrested for drug dealing at age 17 in 1987.
Raised on the streets, young Rick Jr. can recognize a real AK-47 from an imitation when he goes to a Michigan arms show with his grifter father, Rick Sr. (Matthew McConaughey), who sells guns out of the trunk of his car and makes illegal silencers for automatic weapons in the basement of their home.
Rick’s mom is gone and his sister Dawn (Bel Powley) is a junkie, leaving his grandparents (Bruce Dern, Piper Laurie) to keep an eye on things.
At age 14, Rick Jr. is recruited by FBI agents (Jennifer Jason Leigh, Rory Cochrane) and a Detroit narcotics detective (Brian Tyree Henry) to deal drugs undercover as the youngest informant ever. Four years later, when the government no longer requires his services, he becomes America’s youngest cocaine kingpin.
Working from a weak script by Andy Weiss, Logan Miller and Noah Miller, French Algerian director Yann Demange never delves into the psychology of a juvenile criminal. In addition, his fast pacing precludes character development, particularly during Rick’s first visit to the roller-skating rink hangout.
While Matthew McConaughey’s kinetic energy makes Rick Sr. believable, some of the other casting choices are questionable, particularly newcomer Richie Merritt, who admits that not only is this his first acting job, it’s his first paying job of any kind — and his inexperience shows.
FYI: Ironically, the grim landscape of abandoned buildings, empty lots and crumbling crack houses was filmed in Cleveland, not Detroit, supposedly because Detroit was no longer decrepit enough.
On the Granger Gauge, “White Boy Rick” is a fidgety 5, drug-dusting the American dream.
As a child, “Little Women” was read aloud to me. I loved Louisa Mae Alcott’s classic about the four indomitable March sisters living in genteel poverty in Massachusetts while their father serves as a chaplain in the Civil War. And I cherished my Madame Alexander “Little Women” dolls.
Given a contemporary setting, Alcott’s astute observation of female identity in the late 1860s loses its context and authenticity, as the girls Skype-chat with their Army medic dad (Bart Johnson) in Afghanistan.
Aspiring novelist Jo March (Sarah Davenport) tells the story, using inconsistent flashbacks, relating to her sisters — domestic Meg (Melanie Stone), angelic Beth (Allie Jennings) and artistic Amy (Elise Jones/Taylor Murphy) — and their supportive mother, Marmee (Lea Thompson).
As delineated by screenwriters Kristi Shimeck and co-writer/director Clare Niederpruem, Jo is an insufferably selfish, egotistic prig who barely appreciates the encouragement of a Columbia University literary professor (Ian Bohen).
The March neighbors — orphaned Laurie (Lucas Grabeel), his tutor (Stuart Edge) and wealthy Mr. Lawrence (Michael Flynn) — seem so superficial that they barely register, nor does feisty Aunt March (Barta Heiner).
Counting television, there have been more than 12 prior screen adaptations — but none worse than this.
The first “Little Women” play opened in New York in 1912, followed by two silent films (1917 & 1918). There were 48 American radio dramatizations between 1935/1950. And in 1987, there was a 48-episode Japanese animé.
George Cukor’s 1933 version had Katharine Hepburn as rebellious Jo, yet Mervyn Le Roy’s 1949 movie was perhaps the most memorable, featuring June Allyson as Jo, Janet Leigh as Meg, Elizabeth Taylor as Amy, and Margaret O’Brien as Beth. In 1994, Gillian Armstrong cast Winona Ryder and Kirsten Dunst with Susan Sarandon as Marmee.
On the Granger Gauge, this “Little Women” is an artificial, stiltedly foolish 4, leaving audiences anticipating Greta Gerwig’s upcoming version with Saoise Ronan as her leading lady.
(Editor’s Note: Westport resident Susan Granger grew up in Hollywood, studied journalism with Pierre Salinger at Mills College, and graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with highest honors in journalism. In addition to writing for newspapers and magazines, she has been on radio/television as an anchorwoman and movie/drama critic for many years. See her reviews at www.susangranger.com.)
