This is Moore's most powerful movie -- the largest in scope, the most resourceful and skillful in means -- and the best things in it have little to do with his usual ideological take on American power and George Bush.
Sometimes slipshod in its making and juvenile in its travesty, and of course it has no interest in overall fairness to Bush. But it vents an anger about this presidency that, as the film's ardent reception shows, seethes in very many of us.
Little of this information is new, but Moore packages what's already known about George W. Bush and his presidency into a piece of rhetoric so persuasive that the Bush reelection campaign could spend the next five months trying to refute it.
The best thing about Fahrenheit 9/11 is that viewers can disagree with the filmmaker's own assessment that the war was fought for money and power but still emerge with some healthy questions of their own.
Moore's ability to kick off a debate -- even a vicious one -- remains priceless, as do his gifts for ridicule, for wringing laughs, shock and tears from his subjects and for shedding a spotlight on ordinary Americans.
A passionate, clearly articulated, if sloppily structured indictment of the president, his ties to the bin Laden family, his relentless push for war in Iraq and, as portrayed by Moore, an ineptitude bordering on the criminal.
Should be seen because it takes off the gloves and wades into the fray, because it synthesizes the anti-Bush argument like no other work before it, and because it forces you to decide for yourself exactly where passion starts to warp point of view.
If Moore is formidable, it's not because he is a great filmmaker (far from it), but because he infuses his sense of ridicule with the fury of moral indignation. Fahrenheit 9/11 is strongest when that wrath is vented on Bush and his cohorts.