April
10, 1998 | Imagine a cross between a stand-up comedy routine and
an on-the-road documentary, and you're ready for The Big One,
Michael Moore's ruthlessly amusing and ruefully insightful follow-up
to his popular Roger & Me. This time, instead of stalking
GM chairman Roger Smith in and around Flint, Mich., the portly working-class
satirist takes his act on tour, to examine the underside of America's
"economic recovery."
Moore
establishes the movie's tone of cheeky drollery and sugar-coated outrage
during the opening minutes. Addressing a college audience, he recalls
an experiment he conducted during the 1996 presidential primary season.
To see "if politicians would accept money from anyone," he
established bank accounts for fictitious organizations and sent $100
checks to major candidates. Much to his delight, the candidates lived
down to his worst expectations. Pat Buchanan's campaign was the first
to snap at the bait, by cashing a check from "Abortionists for
Buchanan."
The
rest of The Big One follows Moore on a publisher-sponsored tour
to promote his hectoring screed against corporate rogues and manipulators,
Downsize This! Moore agrees to make the cross-country jaunt in
the first place merely as a pretext for his real agenda: filming a sort
of guerrilla documentary about the devastating effects of downsizing
and factory-closings.
In
each city he visits, Moore and his skeletal camera crew slip away from
the local "media escort" to raise questions and conduct interviews.
Moore wants to find "just one CEO" who will explain to him,
on camera, why thousands of workers are being laid off despite billion-dollar
profits. Not surprisingly, he is none-too-politely turned away by tight-lipped
PR reps and stern-faced security guards each time he pays an unannounced
visit to some corporate bigwig.
On
the other hand, Moore finds many newly fired workers -- and, in a few
cases, some hopeful union organizers -- who are more than willing to
complain about being left high and dry by the '90s version of trickle-down
economics.
During
a visit to a Payday candy factory in Centralia, Ill., Moore interviews
workers who are understandably upset by the prospect of being laid off
for being -- well, as they put it, "too productive." The good
news is, Payday is making millions. Unfortunately, that's also the bad
news. In order to sustain their high profits, Payday executives plan
to open a new plant outside the United States, where wages are lower.
Moore
hammers home the absurdity of the situation by getting a Payday spokesperson
to more or less admit that, had the workers been less productive, the
factory would remain open a little longer. But, then again, if they
had been more productive, the place would have shut down months earlier.
No kidding.
At
another point, Moore notes that TWA has begun to use lowly paid California
prison inmates -- including convicted killers -- to give information
on the airline's 1-800 telephone line. That should be kept in mind,
Moore warns, the next time you're tempted to talk rudely to a TWA rep
while making a flight reservation.
The
shifting of U.S. jobs to Mexico and Asia is a recurring theme throughout
The Big One. Again and again, Moore cites examples of companies
that discharge the very people who helped them reap the record profits
that can be maintained only by workforce cutbacks. Company representatives
claim drastic measures are necessary in order to remain "competitive."
Even so, Moore remains skeptical: "If it's just about making a
profit," he wonders aloud, "why doesn't General Motors sell
crack?"
Moore
takes a scattershot approach to aiming his folksy tirades, targeting
everything from the Borders bookstore chain (whose workers are starting
to unionize) to Pillsbury (which receives, according to Moore, $11 million
in "corporate welfare" to promote products in Third World
countries). The Big One works best when Moore is interacting
with other people -- Studs Terkel, Garrison Keillor and Nike CEO Phil
Knight are among the notables who make cameo appearances -- and seems
padded when it dwells on Moore's frequently repetitive monologues. But
even when it's clear that Moore is playing for laughs, it's every bit
as clear that he also is playing for keeps.