Michael Moore's Bowling for Columbine is a documentary that is both extremely funny and depressing. We live in a nation of millions of handguns, but that isn't actually what disturbs Moore. What does is that we so constantly fire them at each other. Canada has a comparable percentage of guns to citizens, but a 10th of the shooting deaths. What causes us to kill so many more of one another than they do other developed nations? Moore, the spirited everyman reactionary, makes clear that he's an ex-sharpshooting counselor and a long-standing affiliate of the NRA. However, Moore has grown out of his youthful penchant for guns. In Bowling for Columbine, moreover, he is not so certain of the bottom line as in the popular Roger & Me, a film in which he saw who the bad guys were, and why. Here he asks questions he can't answer, such as why we as a nation feel so scared, such an urge for the consolation of guns. Observing that we relish urban legends meant to make us scared of strangers, Moore observes how TV news concentrates on local violence and says that while the murder rate is down 20 percent in America, TV coverage of violent crime is up 600 percent.
This vital and stimulating documentary is rated R, so that the Columbine killers would have been guarded from the violent images, mainly of themselves. The MPAA maintains its custom of forbidding teenagers from seeing those films they're most justified in seeing. What imaginary realm do the clockwork uniforms of the ratings board believe they are preserving? I do sometimes wonder how we should expect the ratings system should be run, but it's publicly declared to just be an optional industry system that nobody's obligated to abide. Alas, the rating ranked to a film on the whole shapes who sees it in a theater, and what kind of marketing and publicity for the movie will be agreed to by TV and newspapers.
Moore's consideration isn't limited to the dramatic ceremonies he captures to describe his misgivings. He goes various times to Columbine High School, at one point showcasing harrowing security-camera footage of the bloodbath. And Columbine motivates Moore to acquaint us with two surviving students shot at Columbine, both still with bullets lodged in them. He clarifies that all of the Columbine bullets were readily retailed to the teenage killers by Kmart, at 17 cents apiece. And then he takes the two targets to Kmart headquarters to return the bullets for a refund. This is ingenious showmanship and would appear to be convincing for the uncomfortable Kmart public relations spokespeople, who squirm and dodge in front of Moore's callous camera. But then, on Moore's third visit to headquarters, he is told that Kmart will consent to totally diminish the sale of ammunition. Incredibly for him, he's speechless.
The movie is a collage of Moore encounters and accessory clips and shots. One bit that sears to the bone is from a classic stand-up routine by Chris Rock, who professes that our issue could be resolved by just raising the price of bullets, taxing them like cigarettes. Rather than 17 cents apiece, why not $5,000? "There would be no innocent bystanders!" Moore purchases a Star Map to locate Charlton Heston, rings the bell on his gate, and is welcomed back for an interview. But Heston is evidently unaware of Moore's M.O., and his responses to Moore's questions are pretty hopeless. Heston not long after disclosed that he had signs of Alzheimer's disease, but there is no evidence in this footage that he was enfeebled. It's just that he cannot give reason why he, as a man living behind a gate in a safeguarded community, with security patrols, who has never felt himself in danger, requires a loaded gun in the house. Heston is just as ineffective when asked if he believes it was admirable or decent for him to speak at an NRA rally in Denver 10 days after Columbine.
Bowling for Columbine thinks we have way too many guns, don't require them, and are shooting each other at senseless proportions. Moore cannot select a culprit to answer for this reality, since it appears to arise from a country's urge to be armed. Early on, he tours a bank that's handing out guns to people who open new accounts. He questions a banker whether it isn't sort of risky to have all these guns in a bank. Not one bit. The bank, Moore finds, is a licensed gun dealership. I still can't figure that one out.
This vital and stimulating documentary is rated R, so that the Columbine killers would have been guarded from the violent images, mainly of themselves. The MPAA maintains its custom of forbidding teenagers from seeing those films they're most justified in seeing. What imaginary realm do the clockwork uniforms of the ratings board believe they are preserving? I do sometimes wonder how we should expect the ratings system should be run, but it's publicly declared to just be an optional industry system that nobody's obligated to abide. Alas, the rating ranked to a film on the whole shapes who sees it in a theater, and what kind of marketing and publicity for the movie will be agreed to by TV and newspapers.
Moore's consideration isn't limited to the dramatic ceremonies he captures to describe his misgivings. He goes various times to Columbine High School, at one point showcasing harrowing security-camera footage of the bloodbath. And Columbine motivates Moore to acquaint us with two surviving students shot at Columbine, both still with bullets lodged in them. He clarifies that all of the Columbine bullets were readily retailed to the teenage killers by Kmart, at 17 cents apiece. And then he takes the two targets to Kmart headquarters to return the bullets for a refund. This is ingenious showmanship and would appear to be convincing for the uncomfortable Kmart public relations spokespeople, who squirm and dodge in front of Moore's callous camera. But then, on Moore's third visit to headquarters, he is told that Kmart will consent to totally diminish the sale of ammunition. Incredibly for him, he's speechless.
The movie is a collage of Moore encounters and accessory clips and shots. One bit that sears to the bone is from a classic stand-up routine by Chris Rock, who professes that our issue could be resolved by just raising the price of bullets, taxing them like cigarettes. Rather than 17 cents apiece, why not $5,000? "There would be no innocent bystanders!" Moore purchases a Star Map to locate Charlton Heston, rings the bell on his gate, and is welcomed back for an interview. But Heston is evidently unaware of Moore's M.O., and his responses to Moore's questions are pretty hopeless. Heston not long after disclosed that he had signs of Alzheimer's disease, but there is no evidence in this footage that he was enfeebled. It's just that he cannot give reason why he, as a man living behind a gate in a safeguarded community, with security patrols, who has never felt himself in danger, requires a loaded gun in the house. Heston is just as ineffective when asked if he believes it was admirable or decent for him to speak at an NRA rally in Denver 10 days after Columbine.
Bowling for Columbine thinks we have way too many guns, don't require them, and are shooting each other at senseless proportions. Moore cannot select a culprit to answer for this reality, since it appears to arise from a country's urge to be armed. Early on, he tours a bank that's handing out guns to people who open new accounts. He questions a banker whether it isn't sort of risky to have all these guns in a bank. Not one bit. The bank, Moore finds, is a licensed gun dealership. I still can't figure that one out.