Michael Moore's latest focuses on health care system

Michael Moore is more than a documentary filmmaker. He's a cinematic activist, a provocateur who narrates his films with a folksy delivery and a working-class persona while employing the tools of ambush journalism and protest theatrics.

		MIKE URBAN / P-I
	Director Michael Moore talks with the media before a screening of his film "Sicko" last week at the Pacific Place Cinema.

With the box office success of "Bowling for Columbine" and "Fahrenheit 9/11," he revolutionized the way documentaries are made and marketed, opening a whole new theatrical market to a genre once relegated to brief art-house runs and public TV showings. And he's become a media figure in his own right, using his increased exposure to publicize his films and his causes (and, some would argue, vice versa).

All that has made him a polarizing figure and a big, fat target for his critics, ome on the left, to be sure, but most of them on right side of the political divide. They criticize his political theater "stunts," his satirical narration, his aggressive filmmaking, and accuse him of manipulating the facts to suit his argument.

"Name one fact in my movie that isn't true," he counters. "There are none. Every fact in my films are 100 percent accurate. Because they can't just come at me and have the political argument debate, they've got to make things up like that."

"Sicko," his latest offering in the realm of documentary activism, offers up even more controversy. His "impromptu" trip to Cuba with a small flotilla filled with 9/11 rescue volunteers, all of whom were refused coverage for medical treatment stateside for conditions arising from their work at Ground Zero, reportedly has resulted in threats of penalties from the Treasury Department over violations of the U.S. trade embargo against Cuba.

But more maddening to political opponents than any of that, surely, is the simple fact that Moore's films fill seats. Just as the right-wing hosts dominate talk radio, the political and social documentaries of left-leaning filmmakers are the ones connecting with audiences, led by Moore and the record-setting $120 million box office for "Fahrenheit 9/11," the most successful documentary ever.

Moore flew to Seattle late last week for a day of back-to-back interviews to promote "Sicko," his portrait of the broken health system in America. It opens in theaters on June 29.

He looks and sounds in person like he does on screen, only more so. When I walked in for the interview, he was leaning back on a small couch, dressed in cargo shorts and a short-sleeved shirt (and, of course, his signature baseball cap) as if he had just ducked in from a family barbecue. He's a big guy. OK, he's overweight, though since making "Sicko" he's confessed to changing his diet ("I've discovered these amazing things called vegetables") and walking a couple of miles a day.

He comes off as easygoing and affable, at times self-effacing ("I think a little bit of me goes a long way," he jokes about his appearances in his own films), answering questions calmly and conversationally. It's easy to get charmed by that friendly confidence, but there's also a hint of offhanded conceit under that charm, especially when answering his critics.

"To compare anything I've done with anything that the Bush administration did is probably the most despicable thing that they could say and it really shows how out to lunch they are," he argues, roused at the very idea that he's fudged and manipulated facts to suit his arguments.

"What I'm doing is, and it's my job, is to point out how those in power are not telling us the truth, are manipulating us with their lies. And I think that history has shown that my track record is pretty strong."

As an activist who uses filmmaking to spread his ideas and call for action, Moore is arguably the best at what he does. His films get people engaged, get them talking, and get them roused to political action. That kind of success is hard to argue with.

P-I: "Sicko" makes the case that privatized health care is a huge moneymaking industry and the government is unlikely to threaten it with socialized medical care. How do you change a juggernaut like that when, as you point out, the Clintons tried and failed?

Moore: That was 14 years ago. We now have 14 years of the American public suffering through a very broken system. You don't have to convince people much anymore that something radical needs to happen here because they've had 14 years of having to deal with their HMOs. And now many more people are without insurance, it's the No. 1 cause of bankruptcy, it's the No. 1 cause of homelessness. All these things weren't true in 1993. So I think the public is ready for this change.

Early on in "Sicko," you state: "I always thought the health insurance companies were there to help us." Based on your previous films, I can't believe that a healthy skeptic of big business could really believe this.

That's because the health insurance I've always had has always helped me. My dad worked for General Motors, we had Blue Cross, it was provided 100 percent, there were no co-pays or deductibles. Whenever any of us got sick, we were taken care of right away. I then went for about 15 years as a young adult with no health insurance, then, after "Roger and Me," I became a member of the Director's Guild, and that union has a very good health insurance plan. And so I have nothing but good things to say about what I personally have been through.

Almost 50 million people lack health insurance in this country, yet, as you state in your opening scenes, your film is not about them. Why not?

When I started out, I thought we'd end up making a film about the people who didn't have health insurance. When I started getting all these stories from people who have health insurance and were going through hell, I was really surprised. I don't set out with a preconceived notion of what the film should be. I have a general idea but I'm willing to go where it should go, and it went down the road about the 250 million people who do have health insurance.

I was surprised that you took Hillary Clinton to task for her capitulation on health care.

Especially because I've been madly in love with her for a long time. In my first book ("Downsize This," 1997), I had a chapter called "My Forbidden Love for Hillary." She's broken my heart a bit in recent times, with her votes for the war and now taking so much money from the health industry. I guess I put it in the film because I'm hoping she will turn around and come back to the Hillary that we all know and love.

You use humor and irony in a provocative way in your documentaries. Why?

That's just the way I am. That's the way I've always been.

Doesn't it have the danger of backfiring when confronting the serious issues that you do?

Oh no, I think that humor can be sometimes the most effective way of dealing with a serious issue. And I've found that to be true, and that's why the more I've done it, the more people have come to my films. People like to laugh, and they especially like to laugh at those who are giving them the most amount of grief.

"Socialized medicine" has become demonized as a political term. How do you reclaim it as a viable political idea?

By just coming right out there and ridiculing their efforts, showing them up for who they are, and then proudly claiming it. At one point when I was making the movie, I was thinking of renaming it myself, from "socialized medicine" to "Christianized medicine," because that essentially is what Jesus would do. He said, "When you get to the Pearly Gates, we're going to ask you a series of questions: When I was hungry, did you feed me? When I was homeless, did you give me shelter? When I was sick, did you take care of me?" As we are a "Christian country," as I often hear people say, maybe if we actually started acting that way, we wouldn't have to deal with terms like "socialized medicine." It would just be the normal Christian thing to do.