The Fog of War presents Morris on top form, a self-proclaimed detective director (which suits him well as he previously worked as a private eye) Morris constructs The Fog of War in such a simplistic manner that it baffles the mind to witness how compelling it is. The entire film is essentially a one-hundred and five minute interview with its subject. The subject being Robert Strange McNamara the Secretary of Defence for John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, and previously an analyst for the Japanese bombings in World War Two and briefly the first President of Ford motors to not belong to the Ford family. He is a man who’s life begins at the end of the first World War, indeed he is adamant that his first memory was that of the victory parades, the celebrations at the end of the “War to end all Wars” following this we witness the part he played in World War II, the Cold war, and the Cuban Missile Crisis, then finally the Vietnam War. McNamara is a man who’s been surrounded by war all of his life. His contribution to the global politics over the 20th Centaury is a matter for speculation, by that I mean what real effect he had on events, of which McNamara himself is often uncertain. But as a witness to some of the pivotal events in recent history, you’ll be hard pressed to find a man alive who’s seen so much, witnessed such extremes of human behaviour, or gained such a vast understanding of the moral, amoral, and immoral tapestry that is war. McNamara has amazing recall for a man aged eighty-five casting his mind back more than forty years. He is charismatic figure, who sense of irony and wit cannot be denied. However, the man remains even now the consummate politician. Structurally this film is organised in an unusual way, the natural or even logical choice for the film would have been to start at the beginning and work its way through the key events. Instead, Morris has chosen to structure the film around the titular eleven lessons. The first lesson is Empathise with Your Enemy; this aspect is explored through both its correct and incorrect applications. McNamara gives an example where one man knew that the Russians would back off from the Cuban Missile Crisis as long as their leader could claim that by doing so that he’d saved Cuba, but then later shows how it can go devastatingly wrong when he illustrates how little they understood the Vietnamese people, and how many lives could have been saved, had they empathised with them instead of simply attacking them. The second lesson is Rationality Will Not Save Us, his case in point was that both Kennedy and Castro were both rational men, but they came to within inches of destroying the others nation. Castro had later informed McNamara that the missiles and their warheads were actually on the island at the point when US intelligence thought they were still on a Russian ship on route to Cuba and that had the invasion of Cuba begun, Castro was fully prepared to attack knowing full well, that it would have meant Cuba would have been wiped from the face of the earth. Castro’s rational mind would not save him when placed against such extraordinary odds. All eleven lessons are fascinating, the third: There’s Something Beyond One’s Self. The Fourth: Maximise Efficiency, the fifth: Proportionality Should be a Guideline in War. The Sixth; Get the data, which basically covers the immeasurable importance of having all the correct information. The Seventh, and my personal favourite is: Belief and Seeing are both often wrong. The Eighth is be prepared to re-examine your reasoning, here McNamara demonstrates serious reflectivity, his own part in Vietnam and World War II being the areas in his life for which he has the most regret. At one point he talks about the very real possibility that had the Allies lost World War II he’d have been tried as a war criminal. He understands that victory is the only qualifier which makes the atrocities committed in World War II by the US acceptable, the firebombing of most of the major cities in Japan, prior to the dropping of nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki are compared to the equivalent US cities and the level of destruction is simply beyond comprehension, the loss of life, and the brutal mercenary approach to the campaign are effortlessly disturbing. McNamara also mentions that they should have realised Vietnam was a mistake when none of their usual allies agreed to join them in the fight, when like minded nations can’t see the justification for your war, then it’s not a war you want to fight. The ninth lesson is In Order to do good, you may have to engage in evil, the tenth lesson is Never say Never, and the eleventh lesson is You can’t Change Human Nature. Critics of The Fog of War have argued that Errol Morris has created nothing more than apologist rehabilitation. Here is a man who constantly lied to the American people about the state of the Vietnam War, consistently telling people that America was winning when they were not. He continued to fabricate the truth even after he left the Johnson Administration. His critics see him as an individual who used quantitative methods when dealing with human lives, whether in his role in bombing Japan, Vietnam or later with the World Bank, a cold figure who indirectly and directly by his actions caused of the deaths of human being around the globe. Morris does not help himself as at no instance through the film does he press McNamara harder in order to elicit further truths, he allows McNamara to control the interview. However, I would argue that it is not Morris’s intention in the least to apologise for McNamara, nor is that how the film is portrayed to the audience. He allows McNamara to explain how he saw history created from the front line quite often allowing McNamara to “incriminate” himself; Morris makes no judgement on the right or wrong of the actions. This is left to the audience to decide.
Morris’s documentary has been given additional pathos by the current political climate. The post 9/11 and Iraq War era, in which history seems to have repeated itself, the lessons, alluded to by McNamra have not been grasped or understood by the current US administration. The Fog of War is engaging throughout, and although a large part of this is due to McNamara’s natural charisma, an equal amount of credit has to go to Morris and company in the methods employed in the construction of the documentary. When interviewing someone for a documentary, there are generally considered two approaches visually. Either allow the subject to speak directly to the camera, which will probably severely effect the sincerity of their answer, not that they’ll lie, but the expression of a person talking to an inanimate object is very different to the expression of a person talking to another human being, which would be the second approach, an interviewer off or on camera asks the questions and the interviewee never acknowledges the camera’s presence. Morris’ approach was highly innovative, he did both, using a device his wife playfully dubbed the interrotron, where the image of Morris’ face was projected onto the lens of the camera, like a teleprompter, so from McNamara’s point of view he is talking to Morris, but actually he’s speaking to both Morris and directly to the camera. Although Morris invented the interrotron some years earlier for another project, this where is it most widely known from. The effect is compelling if a little disorientating at first, McNamara is seen from the audiences point of view being almost overly familiar, he’s almost too comfortable talking to the camera, knowledge of how this effect was achieved, and knowing that he was actually directing his answers to Morris’ image is important as it informs how we receive his answers. Our point of view is actually Morris’ point of view within the interview. The quality of the cinematography is also excellent, be it the visual inserts used to punctuated the interview, sometimes featuring a mixture of slow motion and time compressed shots over running each other in a sort of demented double exposure, or the shots of McNamara, switching from mids to extreme close-ups when needed, truly capturing the emotion which his eyes betray, or the extensive and often shocking archive footage which illustrate the brutal realities of the campaigns which McNamara describes. This is all married up with Philip Glass’ exquisite score, to make an extended interview with one man into a film which is effortlessly cinematic. For some of Robert S McNamara’s actions there is a deep sense of regret, but not for others. Overall McNamara appears to have reached a point in his life where he can look back at the many events which brought him to this point. He can discuss them, he can see them in a fuller context and he can truly analyse where he went right and where he went wrong. Although both incarnations of his self are equally confident in their approach, there is a clear difference between the McNamara in Morris’ interview seat, and the McNamara seen in archive footage some forty years earlier, he has mellowed with age and no longer seems so completely self-assured. Perhaps this is the most beautifully conceived aspect of The Fog of War; we get to see how these eleven lessons on life have affected the man who conceived them. The Fog of War compliments the rest of Errol Morris’s body of work to create one of the most sustained and investigative looks at the United States of America. His early features focusing on the weird cosmic Americana where homespun philosophy is found in strangest places. To his latter features which take his investigative vision to an international arena. Combined this body of work makes Morris one of America’s most interesting living directors. M. Dawson |
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With over sixty episodes of Left Field Cinema it is high time for an exploration of the often incredible world of Documentary features. Incredible because often the stories told by these film makers are more astounding, more far-fetched, more emotionally involving, more shocking and more engaging than the works of fiction which more commonly clutter our multiplexes. The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons From the Life of Robert S. McNamara is one such documentary. From here on I shall refer to it by its abridged title. The Fog of War is Directed by Errol Morris perhaps the most celebrated American documentarian, if not as well known as Michael Moore by the public, Morris is certainly a critical darling. Roger Ebert considers Morris’s first film Gates of Heaven, a documentary about pet cemeteries, as one of his top ten films of all time. Gates of Heaven also provides an entertaining anecdote, in which Werner Herzog promised if Morris ever finished the film he would eat his shoe. Herzog’s insanity can be seen in the short film Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe. Morris’s third feature remains his best known. Thin Blue Line, which followed Vernon, Florida, remains one of the most powerful artistic statements by any filmmaker. Thin Blue Line lead to the subject of the film to have his death row sentence changed to life in prison, then subsequently the initial verdict was over turned. Morris’s documentary directly contributed to this result. The style of the film relies on interviews and re-creations. This emphasis on non-fiction as a documentary style would become Morris’s calling card. Morris went to direct a series of further documentaries including 2008’s War on Terror documentary Standard Operating Procedure. Although Standard Operating Procedure has not been received as well as the earlier documentary Taxi to the Darkside by Alex Gibney which was also released last year it remains an interesting piece of work which focuses on Morris’s typical themes of the deceptive nature of what is considered to be “true”. Morris’s friendship with Werner Herzog makes a great deal of thematic sense, both men search for the ecstatic truth within their respective subjects often at the expense of what could be considered the conventional approach. 
The Fog of War is filled with shocking truths and powerful emotional punches, two of the most involving scenes bring this elderly man close to tears, at one point when he describes how he chose where to bury his friend John F. Kennedy, and at another point when he discusses a protester of the Vietnam war, who stood out side McNamara’s office, doused himself with gasoline, and then set himself alight whilst holding a child in his arms. The protestor threw the child into the crowd around him saving the infants life, but burned to death himself. This story from McNamara’s past perfectly demonstrates what a truly unique position the Secretary of defence is. It is a job McNamara made great sacrifices for, quitting his position as the President of Ford and giving up the vast wealth which came with it, for the comparatively lowly pay of a civil servant. The sections of the film detailing his time with Lyndon B. Johnson are perhaps of most interest, we are presented with some telling photographs and tape recordings of meetings which illustrate how far apart Johnson and McNamara were in terms of the Vietnam war. Johnson had long felt frustrated about being shut out of the decision making process, he disagreed with how Kennedy had dealt with the Vietnam situation. Overwhelmingly the portrayal of Johnson reminds of an earlier George W. Bush, in both use of language and position on war. Johnson himself couldn’t point to Vietnam on a map of the world, but was responsible for taking the US into one of its bloodiest conflicts in defence of Democracy.
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