HondaReport.com - Movie Review: Fog of War, 11 Lessons from the Life of Robert McNamara

Movie Review: Fog of War, 11 Lessons from the Life of Robert McNamara

The confusion and mystery of White House strategy and debate during the Cuban missle crisis and Vietnam War come to light in vivid, new color in this documentary by Errol Morris.

HondaReport.com Movie Review
Title: The Fog of War: 11 Lessons from Robert McNamara
Pupule’s Rating: * * * * stars

MPAA Rating: PG-13
Date of Viewing: March 15, 2004
Location: Varsity Theater

No actor or fabricated script could’ve done justice to what Robert McNamara has to say.

And, at 85, he speaks often, well and does so vigorously. That’s a blessing, because the former Secretary of State under John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson opens up to an extent that is equally fascinating, troubling, but ultimately, educational.

In The Fog of War: 11 Lessons from the Life of Robert McNamara, the pathos and ego of Americans at war are laid out bare by director Errol Morris. McNamara, no innocent, had the gall, guts and grace to expose himself for what the Cold War was, as well. It left few stones unturned.

In a time when yet another president has the nation split over involvement in a faraway war, McNamara’s observations, revelations and points of concern are entirely relevant. Morris asks poignant questions from a liberal, even journalistic perspective. McNamara handles it all with blunt honesty—but for one.

Does he feel guilt for the 58,000 American dead in Vietnam? This question, posed at the documentary’s end, hangs in the air for a couple of seconds—an odd occurrence given McNamara’s gift of gab. His silence speaks volumes. And through it all, this is a perplexing, tantalizing morsel of history that could only have been told through the eyes and voice whose career spanned two of America’s most horrific wars.

This film won the Best Documentary honor at the Oscars last month. It certainly earned that prestige. .

The Hype: Frankly, when I went to this film, I wasn’t sure who or what it was about. Yes, I’d heard about the film during the Oscars, but that was long forgotten. Any documentary, even for a fan of PBS, has a measure of lowered expectations at the box office.

Strengths: My doubts were stifled right away. The film opens with a younger McNamara addressing the media during the Cold War in all of television’s black-and-white glory. What makes the film work goes beyond some terrifically timed graphics, including tremendous use of momentum and speed to bring McNamara’s analyses of different scenarios to life. The strength of this film is in McNamara himself.

This is a work that reveals the man to be more than just a former political figure smack dab in the middle of the Cuban missile crisis and Vietnam. Instead of being extremely concise, evasive and full of politico-speak, McNamara is animated, articulate and—I admit, this was a shock—humane. In fact, the McNamara of today comes across far more like a veteran professor than a former Secretary. And the lessons, all straight from his mouth—and experience—are what glues everything together for a remarkable ride some of the most confusing times in American history.

As a side note, there is an astonishing amount of research and footage made available through this film.

Weaknesses: Certainly, I would like to have known exactly what McNamara thinks of the current regime in the White House, as well as its foreign policy. Aside from that, this film challenges itself—and us, as well—to examine and re-examine our definition of what makes war acceptable, and what is acceptable in war. McNamara asks many questions—a fascinating aspect of his growth after politics. Instead of weaknesses, this documentary goes places that simply amaze.

Best Scene: There are several. One is when McNamara explains precisely how closely the Cuban missile crisis came to starting World War III. Graphically, numbers fall from B-57 bombers onto the Japanese continent when he explains how our weaponry destroyed between 50 and 90 percent of the enemy’s 60 biggest cities. It’s a sight—footage of charred cities, including 50 square miles of Tokyo burnt to the ground, as well as computer-generated numbers falling like bombs—that raises the specter of why. McNamara explains this, then says that we did all this to the enemy, and wonders if we really needed to drop A-bombs at all. It’s a theme that repeats in some ways when Vietnam comes up.

Worst Scene: Not one. I would’ve liked to have seen footage of McNamara and his children, but obviously, that was off limits. The Vietnam War, he mentioned, brought about tremendous tension within his family, and he explicitly says that’s something he won’t talk about. He also allows himself to admit that the stress that came with leaving the private sector (he was president of Ford Corp.) to join the White House staff probably led to his wife’s ulcers, and eventually, death. I respect that he kept these things private, but a part of me remains curious.

Summary: There is so much meat in this work, it has to be seen to be appreciated. I would not be surprised to see high school, even middle school, history teachers use this documentary as a vital part of their curriculum.

Though I had a fair amount of skepticism about what McNamara had to say, I was soon transfixed on his detailed recollections. McNamara’s forthright manner, fully admitting that mistakes were made, and that the world is no less in danger today of repeating those grievous errors, tell me that he has found peace—even just a little—within himself. .

1. Empathize with your enemy. By realizing that Krushev wanted a way to get out of the Cuban crisis without embarrassment, Kennedy was able to avoid a disaster.

2. Rationality will not save us. Up until then, JFK, McNamara says, was convinced that all Krushev wanted was a means to attack the U.S. He was wrong, and more than anything, it was sheer luck that another war didn’t explode. To see McNamara say this with full conviction is both stunning and terrifying. (Note: He adds that it is lunacy that 7,500 warheads are out there; 2,500 are pointed at targets, with a 15-minute leeway for launch. For all this to be at the disposal of one man’s decision should be unacceptable, he says.)

4. Maximize efficiency. This came to be a common line of thinking during his time under Gen. LeMay in WW2. B-57s were not hitting targets effectively, and McNamara’s analysis and recommendation were part of increased efficiency in attacking Japanese civilians. It was a necessary evil, which McNamara alludes to later in his list of lessons.

5. Proportionality should a guideline of war. This refers to the A-bombs that landed on an already-decimated Japan. McNamara was well aware that we had already wiped out the bulk of Japan’s cities and population.

6. Get the data. This refers to his tenure at Ford Motor Co., where he landed after WW2. His insistence on research and data triggered fundamental change, such as the implementation of seat belts.

7. Belief and seeing are both often wrong. America’s misguided steps into the Vietnam War were practically a self-fulfilling prophecy. McNamara explains how glitchy sonar equipment left the U.S. with incorrect information about Vietnamese torpedoes, which triggered an air attack on the Viet Cong.

8. Be prepared to re-examine your reasoning. This, perhaps, has the most bearing on what we see in Iraq today. McNamara noted that no allies were with us during the war in Vietnam. When nations of similar stature take a stance like this, that message should be acknowledged and studied, he says.

9. In order to do good, you may have to engage in evil. This, he says, is why LeMay was acceptable in his no-ethics practice of attack. If we had lost the war, McNamara recalls Lemay saying, we could have been tried as war criminals.

Knowing that human nature has frailties hasn’t stopped McNamara from reaching out. Since retiring from the World Bank in 1981, he has lent his services to aid global causes for the impoverished.

The little boy who began his education in a small schoolhouse, healthily competing with Asians and Jews, went on to Cal-Berkeley, then Harvard. It is no small coincidence that he is back to his roots—the poverty of the Depression—in some similar fashion, by serving others over the past two decades. After all the grief of wars, serving is ultimately the best way to ease a stricken conscience, even if—in McNamara’s case—the cause was never his own fault.

Does it absolve him of responsibility for the 58,000 dead? Alas, even the affable McNamara won’t say. It will just cause controversy, he says, and it’s better to be quiet. He is damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t—talk about guilt and responsibility, he says—so he prefers to be damned in silence.

He’s right. It is a no-win situation, and the fact that he opens a window into the world he lived in is plenty. He said enough by pointing out the plain and simple—no individual should have the absolute power to leverage an entire nation into bloodshed.