Pas à la hauteur.

Last night's movie was disappointing. Story of a guy in a happy relationship with a wonderful woman, who wakes up one morning and decides: I'm not good enough for her, she's going to leave me, I can't commit. The director should have saved himself the money and hired a camera crew to follow me around for the past year and a half. The story would have been the same, except with more laughs and tears. Snap.

Last week I saw another disappointing movie, but for entirely different reasons. I don't like Michael Moore but I am always willing to give his movies a chance because I consider that he plays an important role as a shit-disturber. America needs more documentary filmmakers with his unique combination of popularity and ability to ask the uncomfortable questions/annoy the hell out of people in high places.

I should have left the movie theatre appalled at the state of the American health care system. Instead I left feeling frustrated that (once again) he cheapens his arguments by resorting to sensationalism, over-the-top drama and superficial arguments. There is nothing that irks me more than intelligent people who dumb themselves down, and that is exactly what Michael Moore does in Sicko. He is like the Noam Chomsky of the film industry: he uses emotional footage to tug on his audience's heartstrings, and then dishes out a bunch of poorly-researched facts and figures without considering the counterarguments. It is frustrating because the majority of his audience probably doesn't realise that he is being dishonest. Instead they now think that Cuba is a magical land where prescription drugs grow on trees and that it's all sunshine and lollipops in Canadian emergency rooms.

Seriously though, what do you think he got from Fidel Castro in exchange for his shining portrayal of the Cuban health care system? It kind of reminds me of Jean-Paul Sartre's visits to the Soviet Union in the 1950s, and how upon his return he would extole the wonders and virtues of the Stalinist regime. Get a grip.