As a gamer with over two decades of experience under my belt, I have seen my fair share of intriguing narratives and captivating characters that have left me pondering for days, weeks, even years. Sara Jane Moore’s story from Robinson Devor’s documentary “Suburban Fury” is one such tale that has managed to grip me in a way few others have.
17 days following Charles Manson cultist Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme’s unsuccessful attempt on President Gerald Ford’s life, I, a seemingly ordinary suburban mother, mirrored her actions. I waited outside the downtown San Francisco hotel where Ford was staying, and in the midst of curious spectators, I discharged my firearm. Just like Fromme, I too failed, and my tale became part of the peculiar events in history – an oddity that seems almost unbelievable, forever etched as one of those extraordinary facts.
Half a century since the events unfolded, filmmaker Robinson Devor (known for “Police Beat”, “Zoo”, “Pow Wow”) has revisited Moore’s tale. His captivating new documentary, titled “Suburban Fury“, debuted at the New York Film Festival, aims to create a coherent image of an enigmatic figure. By utilizing archival footage and exclusive interviews with Moore, who regained freedom in 2007 following over three decades behind bars, Devor delves into the transformation of this seemingly ordinary woman from an FBI informant to a potential assassin.
As a gamer diving into this film, I want to share that the creators chose a unique approach for this project: they followed Moore’s wish to be the sole interviewee, eliminating other talking heads or discussions with those close to her. The movie predominantly serves as Moore’s personal account – a gripping, yet at times puzzling, autobiographical journey of a woman whose political evolution is marred by narrative discrepancies.
Previously, doubts about Michael Moore’s credibility as a storyteller have been raised on other occasions. In 2008, journalist Geri Spieler published “Taking Aim at the President: The Remarkable Story of the Woman Who Shot at Gerald Ford“, which was based on three decades of their conversations. In her introduction, Spieler recounts Moore’s evasive actions when the book project commenced: “As I started planning and making lists of people to interview,” Spieler explains, “Sara Jane began canceling our meetings. She disapproved that I was conducting research for the book without her constant supervision.” While Moore was still imprisoned during this period, she became increasingly anxious, agitated, and unreliable. Their once friendly and cordial conversations grew cold and distant. Eventually, Moore ceased communicating with Spieler altogether, who proceeded to write the book without her cooperation.
Moore’s evasiveness regarding the truth is clearly noticeable during her interactions with Devor in “Surburban Fury“. The interviews oscillate between straightforward (occasionally even soothing) recollections and confrontational demands for specific details and their sequence. In collaboration with his previous partner and cinematographer Sean Kirby, Devor films them at locations that mirror Moore’s life during the days leading up to and following the incident, such as a station wagon (where she would meet her FBI handler) or the hotel ballroom where she was questioned after the attempted assassination attempt.
Devor’s choice of long shots with Moore in a car on a recognizable street echoes the style of Francis Ford Coppola’s movie, The Conversation. In these chilling scenes, we, as spectators, find ourselves occupying an intrusive role, peering at Moore much like she used to watch others.
Prior to attempting to assassinate President Ford, Moore was previously an undercover informant for the FBI. Assigned by a mysterious agent known as Bert Worthington, her role was to infiltrate left-leaning political organizations and relay their activities back to the government. Her political activism had been sparked following the kidnapping of Patty Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army. In response to the group’s demand for a ransom in the form of a food distribution program, Randolph Hearst initiated the People In Need program. Moore volunteered to manage their finances within this organization, and it was during this time that she was approached by an intelligence agency.
The documentary is structured by Devor using short scenes or snapshots, primarily accompanied by Moore’s memories, which are numbered to help navigate the content. Initially, these numbers increase in sequence, then later they decrease, much like a countdown timer. The climactic moment, you understand, is when Moore points her gun at Ford, giving the movie the tense atmosphere of a thriller and making Moore’s narrative seem elusive and fragmented.
As a gamer diving into this narrative, I’ve found it challenging to keep all the pieces together at times. Yet, Moore has an exceptional knack for spinning yarns that are captivating and richly detailed. However, the storylines don’t always neatly tie together as expected. She prefers not to delve deep into her personal life, so while the book Suburban Fury touches upon aspects of her early life like her aspiration to act and her complex feelings towards motherhood, it leaves me yearning for more intimate insights.
Moore’s narrative becomes particularly complex when she discusses her journey from an FBI informant to a radical activist. As she participated in rallies, demonstrations, and gatherings with SLA members and other left-wing organizations, Moore gained a deeper understanding of the systemic problems within the U.S. and identified with their shared values. However, according to her own account, she continued to inform the FBI about these groups’ activities on a daily basis. Each day, Moore would sit at her typewriter and compose a report for her supervisor.
When questioned regarding her inconsistency, Moore displays signs of tension and even hostility, much like Bill O’Neil in the footage from Shaka King’s Fred Hampton biopic “Judas and the Black Messiah.” In that brief scene, O’Neil explains his role in sabotaging the Black Panther Party while still maintaining a belief in the movement. He also distinguishes himself from armchair activists by stating that he had actively tried to bring about change. Similarly, at her sentencing hearing where she was given life in prison, Moore dismisses contradictions. “Am I sorry I tried?” she asks in reference to the attempted assassination. “Yes and no,” she continues. “Yes, because it achieved little more than ruining the rest of my life. But no, I’m not sorry I tried, because at the time it seemed like a fitting way to express my anger.
Wasn’t there plenty to be upset about? The audience is left to make their own judgments about Moore’s anger, but Devor and his researcher Bob Fink (who also collaborated as a writer with Charles Mudede) provide a wealth of contextual historical material. This includes snippets from television programs, newspaper articles, and other artifacts from the early to mid-’70s. The country was experiencing multiple crises at once, including Watergate, Vietnam, racial injustice, and violence against the underprivileged. All these events led to a deep distrust of the government among the public. Ford aimed to rebuild that trust and take on the task of past and present presidents to heal a deeply divided nation.
During this period, Moore grew progressively disappointed with the system and expressed a wish to demonstrate that America wasn’t fully embodying its declared ideals. The intriguing aspect of “Suburban Fury“, as depicted in the movie, is its exploration of this internal conflict alongside Moore’s narrative. It is within this context that Devor’s film, brimming with the excitement of archival material and a narrator whose credibility is questionable, finds its reason for existence.
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2024-10-11 16:55