The story and science of renowned astro-physicist Stephen Hawking was given the Errol Morris cinematic treatment in A Brief History of Time in 1991. Morris’ ability to probe deep into unique idiosyncratic characters is put to the ultimate test in Hawking, the wheelchair bound genius with no way of communicating other than his hand controlled clicker and computer-translated voice. And yet through his inert facade emerges perhaps the most enlightening character study he’s ever made.

Standard Operating Procedure (2008) dir. Errol Morris
Documentary

**1/2

Arguably, Errol Morris is the premier documentary filmmaker in the world, and we expect him to hit a home run every time at bat. “Fog of War” won him an Oscar in 2004, “Thin Blue Line” is often cited as one of the greatest documentaries ever made, and Roger Ebert considers “Gates of Heaven” one of his favourite films of all time – doc or drama. Along comes “Standard Operating Procedure” a film about those infamous photos from Abu Ghraib prison which helped unite many Americans against the war in Iraq. Though Morris is on his game stylistically, the film is surprisingly unfocused and unimpressive, and leaves too many questions unanswered.

It wasn’t that long ago (2004) when those egregious photos of prisoner abuse in Abu Ghraib prison found its way into the public. If you were under a rock during that time, they were photos of American prison guards stationed in Iraq humiliating Iraqi detainees by stripping them down and forcing them into inhumane acts. Through a series of interviews from the personnel involved Morris seeks to uncover and comprehensively document what happened during those few months and its investigative aftermath.

We get to see Lynndie England, that woman who was seen holding a prisoner attached to a dog leash. Her emotionally detached testimonial describes how the leader of the bunch Charles Graner, used his male-domination psychology to get her to appear in the photos. There’s Sabrina Harmon whose diary entries back home to her wife tell a story of someone who knows they’re doing wrong, but had no authority or courage to stop it. There’s the investigator who tells us how he pieced together the timeline of events with forensic precision and determined what, if any, criminal acts were perpetrated. We also meet the soldiers who did time for those acts, who now hold disdain for the military for using them as the scapegoats for a policy of maltreatment which went up the chain.

On paper, with Morris at the helm, with this political hot button topic, this film should be a score. Unfortunately Morris is all style, and reveals very little substance. The film is a beautiful film to behold. Robert Chappel and multi-Oscar winning DOP Robert Richardson make this doc look better than most feature films. Morris uses his patented point of view technique which allows the subject to answer Morris’ questions to his face, but appear to the audience as if they’re looking into the camera. As with his other films Morris shoots a series of abstract recreations with high-speed 35mm cameras. I assume they were shot by Mr. Richardson ASC as the images are glossed with his trademark look. The Roberts capture some of the most incredible images I’ve ever see put to film – specifically a super-slo mo shot of a guard dog snarling and chomping near the macro-lensed camera. It’s a phenomenal shot.

But the prettier the pictures overshadow what, for the most part, is a ‘surface’ documentary. Morris takes a long time before getting to his point. He passes time to giving us plenty of facts, and showing us CSI-style analysis with elaborate computer graphics. Morris is never clear whether his film is a character-analysis – a la “Mr. Death” or an investigative study, a la “Thin Blue Line”. Morris treads both points of view, and doesn’t find drama with either one.

The problem is the power of the images. Images which we have seen before and are still fresh in our memory. There is no smoking gun to be found. There is no shocking reveal of information. Morris does eventually find an intriguing contradiction toward the end of the film, when the investigator, one by one, tells us which photos constitute a ‘criminal act’ or ‘standard operating procedure’. It’s an eye-opening paradox of inconsistency, but by that point we’ve been numbed with facts and information which the audience probably inferred themselves back in 2004.

And Morris misses out by never getting to interview the ringleader in the entire affair, Charles Graner (who was disallowed by the military from participating) as well anyone up the chain of command who would be culpable to some of the accusations of policy and the ‘standard operating procedure’ these soldiers were told to uphold.

In the end, “Standard Operating Procedure” raises more questions than it answers. We get both horrific photos of abuse and humiliation intercut with stunningly beautiful cinematography. It’s never the cohesive focused film which expect from Errol Morris, consider this one a bloop single.

Standard Operating...

The Fog of War (2003) dir. Errol Morris
Starring: Robert McNamara

****

“The Fog of War” is a single-subject documentary about Robert McNamara, the so-called architect of the Vietnam War. It’s a fascinating film about his years of service from WWII to his time as Kennedy and Johnson’s Secretary of Defence. It’s a deconstruction of war from the point of view of an aged insider looking back on his influence on the world. And even though the film looks into the past, it’s highly relevant today.

Director Errol Morris separates the discussion into 11 chapters, subtitled: “Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara. He starts things off with the Cuban Missile Crisis and describes the events as they happened from within the oval office. We’re privy to never-before-heard snippets of taped conversation between Kennedy and McNamara. The first lesson to be applied to the crisis is “Empathize with Your Enemy.” It’s a remarkably simple conclusion but often forgotten in political, military or economical tactics. McNamara refused to think of the Soviets or the Cubans as “evil-doers” and instead put himself in their shoes to empathize with Khrushchev and Castro’s needs and desires. McNamara admits we all came within a hair’s breadth of nuclear war, but the U.S. came out victorious because of his and Kennedy’s tactics.

McNamara then circles back to discuss his involvement in WWII, which is even more fascinating. McNamara has always been the smartest guy in the room.
With his Berkeley and Harvard degrees under his belt, as a soldier, instead of going to the frontlines, the Air Force put him to work in the Statistical Control Office. There he was instrumental in analyzing the effectiveness of the bombing campaigns in the Pacific as well planning the cruel firebombings of 1945. The reduction of soldier’s lives to numbers, percentages and kill ratios is alarming, but also makes sense in the context of the needs of combat. McNamara is candid in saying, if the U.S. lost the War he and his superiors would have been tried as war criminals.

McNamara’s involvement in Vietnam is the heart of the film and the reason his name remains so controversial today. Morris clarifies the misconception of McNamara as the ‘architect’ of the war. McNamara clearly lays blame on LBJ, whom we hear from the horse’s mouth contradicting his advice to pull out of Vietnam. The rest is history.

McNamara’s insights are so important today that he could easily substitute Vietnam for Iraq and the film would be just as accurate. His description of the error in attributing the Gulf of Tonkin affair to the North Vietnamese, which ultimately caused Johnson to escalate the war is eerily similar to Bush’s miscalculation of Iraq’s phantom WMDs.

“The Fog of War” isn’t just about the Cold War, it’s also about the man himself. McNamara is fascinating because he seemingly found himself in positions of power by request, as opposed to desire. He had no intention to be placed in the Statistical Control department of the Air Force, and he had no desire to leave his position as Head of the Ford Motor Company until President Kennedy called and asked him to be his Secretary of Defense. He’s been courted by his employers because he’s a superior man who can apply he pure intellect into any situation. Kind of like the current trend of hiring super-smart MBA grads to head baseball franchises despite no experience in the sport whatsoever.

Errol Morris again opens his magnificent bag of tricks to visualize the story. As with all his films McNamara speaks right to camera and appears to communicate with us personally, one-on-one. It’s highly effective and persuasive; his stock footage and slo-mo artistic recreations are simple yet effective renderings of the complex themes; and Philip Glass’s music always sounds best with Morris’ films and this is no exception.

A frustrating aspect of the film is that Morris never fully breaks down the wall of protection put up by McNamara. We never really get to ‘know’ the man. McNamara’s quick to tell us about what went on behind the political doors, but when it comes to his family and his own moral convictions, he is elusive specifically when it comes to accepting blame. Even with his age, the benefit of hindsight and his illustrious stature in the world, he’s still the smartest guy in the room and won’t let you forget it. Enjoy.

Buy it here: The Fog of War