Few figures of recent American history will be as controversial as Robert McNamara. Secretary Of Defense under both President Kennedy and President Johnson from 1961-1968, he played key roles both during the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 and in the lead up to and conduct of the Vietnam War during that period. McNamara, who died in 2009, was the subject of Errol Morris' 2003 documentary The Fog Of War which itself recently had its own tenth anniversary.
Partly that's because of its subject matter. Largely because of the controversy around him and his long silence about his role in the Vietnam War, McNamara himself is a fascinating figure. Outside of his 1995 book In Retrospect, this may very well be the most candid McNamara ever was about his life and in particular about his time as Secretary Of Defense. Thanks to Morris' interrotron technique, McNamara often seems to be looking right into the eyes of the viewer and the vice versa is true as well. The result is that this portrait of him is given even more power, especially when he talks about helping pick out the site where JFK is buried where you can see his eyes watering or his eyes light up in the rare moments of humor. McNamara also proves he can own up (as it were) to some of the more questionable events he took part in and even downright mistakes such as the firebombing of Japanese cities in World War II and the fundamental misunderstandings that led to increasing involvement in Vietnam. Yet, for every moment like that though, there are moments where one can't quite read him, especially when he becomes increasingly guarded about Vietnam and why he didn't speak out more against it after he left government. The results are often just as haunting as they are fascinating.
McNamara himself though is just part of the documentary. Morris makes extensive use of archival material with some of the most outstanding being rarely heard recording of meetings and phone calls involving McNamara and the two President's he served under, especially in comparing the conflicting attitudes to the war in Vietnam expressed first by Kennedy in late 1963 and then Johnson just months after Kennedy's assassination. There is also a wealth of rarely seen documents as well, especially from McNamara's statistical work during World War II that leads to a haunting piece of animation of his handwritten numbers becoming the bombs dropped on Japanese cities. There is also a limited amount of reenactments as well, especially to illustrate the surreal but true way that skulls were dropped down a Cornell University stairwell in tests that led Ford to install seat-belts in their vehicles. Then there's the score of Phillip Glass which gives the entire proceeding a most haunting quality it might not have had otherwise. As a result, the more artistic elements of the documentary compliment the portrait of McNamara rather nicely.
The heart of the film though is in its narrative structure, which is centered around eleven lessons Morris draws from McNamara's life. It is these lessons that make the film as timely as ever in a world that continues to be in a state of continuous conflict. McNamara's life and the events he relates are merely examples from how the Cuban Missile Crisis shows us that rationale people can be lead to the edge of irrational decisions (starting a nuclear war) to how the Gulf Of Tonkin incident is a prime example of how seemingly incontrovertible evidence can be wrong and lead to unimagined consequences. While these examples might be taken from decades and crisis' of the past, are every bit as applicable today as they were both in McNamara's time and when this was first released a decade ago.
Despite being about events a half century or so ago, and being a decade ago itself, it remains a film as relevant today as it ever has been. On one hand, it presents a compelling portrait of McNamara and his role in some of the most important and controversial events of the last fifty years. On the other, it blends that portrait skillfully with artistic elements that make the lessons taken from that portrait all the more compelling. The results are haunting, fascinating and well worth viewing.
Partly that's because of its subject matter. Largely because of the controversy around him and his long silence about his role in the Vietnam War, McNamara himself is a fascinating figure. Outside of his 1995 book In Retrospect, this may very well be the most candid McNamara ever was about his life and in particular about his time as Secretary Of Defense. Thanks to Morris' interrotron technique, McNamara often seems to be looking right into the eyes of the viewer and the vice versa is true as well. The result is that this portrait of him is given even more power, especially when he talks about helping pick out the site where JFK is buried where you can see his eyes watering or his eyes light up in the rare moments of humor. McNamara also proves he can own up (as it were) to some of the more questionable events he took part in and even downright mistakes such as the firebombing of Japanese cities in World War II and the fundamental misunderstandings that led to increasing involvement in Vietnam. Yet, for every moment like that though, there are moments where one can't quite read him, especially when he becomes increasingly guarded about Vietnam and why he didn't speak out more against it after he left government. The results are often just as haunting as they are fascinating.
McNamara himself though is just part of the documentary. Morris makes extensive use of archival material with some of the most outstanding being rarely heard recording of meetings and phone calls involving McNamara and the two President's he served under, especially in comparing the conflicting attitudes to the war in Vietnam expressed first by Kennedy in late 1963 and then Johnson just months after Kennedy's assassination. There is also a wealth of rarely seen documents as well, especially from McNamara's statistical work during World War II that leads to a haunting piece of animation of his handwritten numbers becoming the bombs dropped on Japanese cities. There is also a limited amount of reenactments as well, especially to illustrate the surreal but true way that skulls were dropped down a Cornell University stairwell in tests that led Ford to install seat-belts in their vehicles. Then there's the score of Phillip Glass which gives the entire proceeding a most haunting quality it might not have had otherwise. As a result, the more artistic elements of the documentary compliment the portrait of McNamara rather nicely.
The heart of the film though is in its narrative structure, which is centered around eleven lessons Morris draws from McNamara's life. It is these lessons that make the film as timely as ever in a world that continues to be in a state of continuous conflict. McNamara's life and the events he relates are merely examples from how the Cuban Missile Crisis shows us that rationale people can be lead to the edge of irrational decisions (starting a nuclear war) to how the Gulf Of Tonkin incident is a prime example of how seemingly incontrovertible evidence can be wrong and lead to unimagined consequences. While these examples might be taken from decades and crisis' of the past, are every bit as applicable today as they were both in McNamara's time and when this was first released a decade ago.
Despite being about events a half century or so ago, and being a decade ago itself, it remains a film as relevant today as it ever has been. On one hand, it presents a compelling portrait of McNamara and his role in some of the most important and controversial events of the last fifty years. On the other, it blends that portrait skillfully with artistic elements that make the lessons taken from that portrait all the more compelling. The results are haunting, fascinating and well worth viewing.