Bowling for Columbine

120 minutes

Michael Moore’s newest documentary, Bowling for Columbine, makes a stirring argument for a new and honest debate on the use of guns in the United States. The film also marks a new stage in the career of the floppy, rotund, muckraking, rabble-rousing filmmaker from Flint, Michigan. Bowling for Columbine does follow the trails blazed by his two previous documentaries, Roger and Me and The Big One: there’s plenty of blame left at the doorsteps of corporate monoliths like Kmart, arguably misguided interest groups like the NRA, and the less socially-conscious wings of the federal government. However, much of the movie transcends simple ideological dichotomies, and that’s exactly the right move. In Roger and Me, Moore was justified in hunting down the head honcho at GM to find out why the auto plants in Flint were closed down (tens of thousands of jobs were lost), but who could he hunt down to answer why Americans shoot and kill tens of thousands of other Americans every year?

Nobody, obviously. Kmart, the NRA, and Dick Clark all take their lumps, but ultimately Moore dedicates this film to explaining how the American gun culture is not a result of the proliferation of guns (Canada also has nearly one gun for every household), or of a history of violence (every other old colonial power matched us in spades, back in the day), or even of a fascination with violent entertainment (something we share with Japan and virtually every other nation who can afford it). After making these points, Moore takes us on a memorable trip to Canada, where he shows us many guns, but not a single person who locks the front door. They just aren’t afraid of anyone. After this “revelation” (I suspect Mr. Moore already knew he would find Canadian doors astonishingly unsecured), Moore comes to the conclusion that what marks the American people—and what might, just might, explain why we’re so trigger happy—is a culture of fear. Evidently, the American citizenry has plum forgotten the lesson of FDR’s most famous inaugural address.

Which doesn’t seem too improbable. Sometimes I think Americans intentionally forget history because they enjoy repeating it so much (invading smaller countries for illogical reasons never seems to get old). Nevertheless, nobody enjoys school shootings or random sniper attacks, which is why Michael Moore and the other producers of Bowling for Columbine can even hope to play a part in breaking the vicious cycle of gun violence in America. The cast of characters they enlist to help in their mission (at least within this movie, anyway) include improbable figures like Matt Stone, co-creator of South Park, and Marilyn Manson. I have to say, I have never been as big a fan of Marilyn Manson as I was after I saw Moore’s interview with him. Normally, I expect the BS that celebrities spew when asked about sensitive topics to be glib and ultimately unsubstantial, but Manson’s comments were incredibly respectful, insightful, and intelligent. I still think he is full of himself, but I can now say I am proud that we hail from the same county.

Bowling for Columbine also casts a critical eye towards familiar whipping boys like American military aggression overseas, the massive arms industry in this country, and unconscionable corporate greed, but it hits home best when it examines stories on a smaller scale. Moore once again returns to his hometown of Flint and finds an astonishing number of connections to several of the most infamous acts of the last ten years. One of the teenage perpetrators of the Columbine shootings had lived at an Air Force base just outside of Flint, and Moore was able to interview former classmates of his who were alarmingly similar characters. James Nichols, the brother of the Oklahoma City bombing plotter Terry Nichols, lives in the Flint area, and Timothy McVeigh was a frequent visitor to his household. Moore has a frightening conversation with Nichols, who still doesn’t seem to understand that the kind of anti-government action that he and his brother had advocated in the past is a bit extreme. And remember the sad story of the six-year-old who brought a gun to school and shot a classmate? That happened in Flint. Moore has a series of poignant interviews with a school administrator and a police official who attest that the child was normal in every way—he was simply able to bring a gun to school. Moore then excoriates the workfare system in Michigan for causing the tragedy by making the child’s mom travel miles out of the way to work at a government-subsidized job at Dick Clark’s restaurant at an Auburn Hills mall. Is his argument a stretch? Yes, but his point is that it really shouldn’t be a stretch for those who hold fast to “family values.” Somehow, though, I doubt Lynn Cheney will listen.

Of course, the moral center of the film is its somber, sobering coverage of the Columbine shootings. Easily the most documentary part of the film, it was at once merely a flashback to April, 1999 and, at the same time, a newly critical look at how Littleton, Colorado was changed forever by a volatile mix of the cruelties of high school and the right to bear freely accessible arms. In this movie, Moore introduces a new device, the musical montage, into his repertoire. Though his other montages are either too trite or too drawn out (and sometimes not edited very well), his non-narrated use of the security videos from the time of the Columbine massacre was daring, spare, and very, very moving. There are certain things that film leaves with you forever, and although I had thought I would never again be shocked by any footage from a school shooting, I will always remember the sight of those two boys skulking around the high school.

I doubt that Bowling for Columbine will make many converts from middle America, much less the gun rights camp, even though Michael Moore is in fact a longtime member of the NRA and he does not advocate abolishing guns in America—he only wants them regulated and used responsibly. Part of the reason his message will be resisted is that he challenges many of middle America’s most cherished myths. “We the moral majority” like to believe that guns and violence make their home primarily in the inner city and other impoverished areas; Moore has interviews with local government officials who confirm that, in Flint anyway, there are far more gun-related problems in the suburbs than in the city itself. “We the middle-class liberals” like to think that too many guns cause too many gun deaths, pure and simple, but Canada’s admirable restraint suggests that maybe people really do kill people, especially if that’s what they are taught to shoot instead of animals. And of course, “we the people” like to believe that we are the bravest, most courageous people in the world, but Bowling for Columbine makes a very good case that we are in fact one of the most fearful nations on earth.

In light of the last year’s events, perhaps we have good reason to be fearful. Or perhaps history has finally caught up to our paranoia (if you need another reason to see this movie, there is an absolutely hilarious cartoon sequence which traces the root of the Great American Fearfulness to good old fashioned imperial racism). Whatever the case may be, I think Michael Moore has a point. One thing we really do have to fear is fear itself. As well as the gun lobby.