by Jessica Reed
As I walked back towards the tube station from the screening of Richard Linklater’s Fast Food Nation, I found myself in low spirits.
It was not the movie’s unarguably valid political stances ("fast food industries make a mockery of health concerns and afflict our culture and ethics"), its overall half hearted tone, or even pop star Avril Lavigne's insipid cameo which triggered my blues. Truth be told, I was vaguely depressed by the increasing sense of apathy and deja-vu which i developed as the narrative lines evolved.
I am perhaps growing into a cynical and disillusioned movie goer; that or Linklater missed the window of opportunity (1999-2004?) in which his movie could have been a punchy, highly political and cutting-edge movie. Had “Fast Food Nation” been released at the same time as Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine or Morgan Spurlock’s Supersize me, it makes little doubt that a work of fiction (amidst plenty of documentaries and other admirable journalism efforts) would have been welcomed with more interest than in a post-democrats’ victory context, where thundering rants and angry manifestos seem to have lost all impact on their targeted demographics.
Maybe this is where the problem lies: Fast food nation didn’t enrage me, nor did it teach me anything new about the collateral damages produced by the West’s accelerated culture. The myriads of plot lines (illegal immigration, drug and sexual abuse, activism and morale) end up harming the film’s coherence; many powerful arguments are picked up only to be conveniently forgotten too early. The final abattoir scene, in all its silent and bloody glory, may come as a shock to carnivores who are forced to contemplate their dietary carnage. It also makes meat-eaters feel responsible for the illegal workers’ grim fate, giving the movie a didactic tone which I could have done without. However it validates one of the film’s centrepiece, a line by rogue fast-food restaurant owner Harry Rydell, brilliantly played by Bruce Willis: "most people don't like to be told what's best for them."
I don't mind being told what best-practices I should consider implementing in my own life; I just don't want to be confronted to the poor cinematographic version of (the otherwise admirable) Adbusters magazine, five years too late.
