ocumentary filmmaker and author Michael Moore is often criticized for putting himself before his subjects. Occasionally condescending, often smug, and unabashedly biased, Moore truly is as much of a draw for his work as the social and political issues he tackles. The willingness to sell himself alongside his polemics made Moore’s second film, The Big One—which is essentially about his book tour—an ineffective bore. In his other works, however, Moore’s honest empathy and satirical approach lends humanity to and provides a drawing card for a film genre too often considered impenetrable by many viewers.


In Moore’s first film, Roger and Me he went to Flint, Mich., to attempt to pose questions to GM boss Roger Smith; in Bowling for Columbine, he travels the countries searching for answers, specifically about America’s firearms culture. In both cases, his failure to accomplish his stated goals is, paradoxically, the success of his films.


Here Moore tackles the roots and provocations of American gun culture and the hypocrisy that allows firearms to be considered a benign necessity designed to help protect from violence. The film’s timing is unfortunately apt. Since Columbine, America has overdosed on violence, whether homegrown or imported. If the World Trade center tragedy and the panic of the D.C. sniper shootings weren’t enough, George W. Bush’s first-strike initiative means that a second Gulf War is inevitable. There is need to understand our resistance to firearms reform and why—compared to the rest of the Western World—America persists on cultivating a shoot-first approach to problem solving. Moore is regrettably one of the few public figures examining this topic with any depth.


Unfortunately, there is a fine line between bravery and sensationalism, and when Moore wheels out Oklahoma bomber Terry Nichols’ older brother, shares Chris Rock standup, or gets comment from Marilyn Manson he is reaching. Among the film’s more productive segments are ones in which Moore visits a Michigan bank that gives new customers a free gun, pitches a show idea to a former “COPS” producer, and a cartoon—produced by “South Park” creators—explaining how Canada avoided the gun culture that plagues the U.S.


Moore also travels to Flint after the shooting of a first-grader by a fellow 6-year-old, and later confronts NRA president Charlton Heston to ask the former actor why spoke at a pro-gun rally in the area shortly after the tragic incident—just as he had done in Denver in the aftermath of Columbine.


There are some problems here. The film meanders at times and some of Moore’s ideas need to be reined in a bit. I suppose Moore’s role as producer, director, writer, and star of most of his creative projects leaves little room for others to offer constructive tips on quality control. Yet even with those quarrels, it’s a powerful work. And forcing the audience to sift through the film’s content rather than flatly accept it is no bad thing, either. After all, these are potent polemics but not complete solutions. Audiences are left to ask and answer their own questions. Fortunately, Moore will continue to do so, too. Like Heston with his beloved firearms, they’ll have to take the microphone out of Moore’s cold, dead hands.