Buy it... if you desire a faithful but relatively useless souvenir of score and song tracks that attempt to mock the controversial presidency of George W. Bush in full propaganda mode.

Avoid it... if you were either offended by Michael Moore's film or have no interest in hearing its representative music outside of its rhetorical context.

Fahrenheit 9/11: (Jeff Gibbs) Not much needs to be said to introduce this highly controversial film and the determined minds behind it. After his highly successful documentary Bowling for Columbine a few years earlier, liberal filmmaker Michael Moore sought to produce the ultimate anti-George W. Bush "documentary" as part of his personal effort to harm Bush's re-election chances against 2004 challenger John Kerry. President Bush is made to look silly and incompetent in the film, balancing between comedy and drama in its pursuit of exposing the less refined aspects of Bush's activity from 2001 to 2003. No effort was ever made to mask Fahrenheit 9/11 as a straight, non-partisan documentary; the purpose of the film was quite clear to all at a time when half of America, along with the majority of the world's onlookers, hoped for an end to Bush's controversial (and, as some would say, illegitimate) presidency. The difference between Fahrenheit 9/11 and most other propaganda films, however, is the extraordinary reception that the film received from people all across the political spectrum. Whether or not you like Moore or the film, its impact was profound because of the overwhelming viewership and consequent press that the film received. That said, Americans were dumb enough to re-elect Bush anyway, so Moore ultimately failed at his task. When you think about these Moore documentaries, you're not likely going to recall the music, even if you're a soundtrack collector. But believe it or not, these films do have scores that co-exist with the better known outsourced songs. The composer for Bowling for Columbine and Fahrenheit 9/11 is a high school buddy of Moore, Jeff Gibbs, whose primary duties on the films were as a producer and co-director over and beyond his involvement with the music. They first paired up for directing duties during the prior film, but when Moore's previous arrangements for a composer fell through, Gibbs used his musical talents to step in and provide an emergency score. That solo piano work found an audience and was released on a compilation of the composer's music called "Reflections." When it came time for Fahrenheit 9/11, Moore and Gibbs were once again co-producing the film, and Gibbs had more time and assets with which to make a fuller-sounding score. The only reason Gibbs' score for the 2004 movie came to the forefront is because it was released along with several songs from the film on a commercial CD that coincided with the strategically planned early October release of Fahrenheit 9/11 on DVD.

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Is there really a substantial amount of score for Fahrenheit 9/11? In reality, no, there isn't much, but Gibbs did provide extended versions of what you hear in snippets during the film so that the listening experience on album is fuller. The other question about the score is its political motive. Is it as liberal as the film? One of the score cues does somewhat mock George W. Bush, and the irony in the song selections is not to be missed, but there surprisingly are not any quotes from film on the album. The score was never intended to be fantastic, and its substance was likely rendered on a single synthesizer. The last thing you can expect from a project such as this is anything more than what major composers would produce as a mock-up score. However, Gibbs' music was certainly sufficient (for both documentaries, his only scores at the time) in serving its purpose. Electric strings set a general tone of tragedy in the opening and closing score cues, a solo piano draws out Bush's waiting sequence on September 11th, 2001, and "Weapons of Deceit" is the mocking, playful tune that is jolly in its insulting representation of leadership. There is a vintage Philip Glass vibe that exists in the looped rhythms of these cues, especially in the fuax strings of "All They Ask," and "Weapons of Deceit" seems to owe some inspiration to Danny Elfman as well. After a solemn Cliff Martinez-like "Deserter" cue with sparse contemporary rhythms, the "Afghan Victory Dance" cue mocks Middle Eastern musical trademarks and inserts some flair into a slow nightclub atmosphere. These score cues collectively reach just under 20 minutes in length and don't have any common theme, motif, or instrumental style. They are clearly "filler" cues meant to bridge the situations that are better suited by songs or silence in the film, typically fading out without any solid resolution. The songs included on the album aren't huge hits (soundtrack sales likely weren't as important to Moore as the rhetorical impact of the selections), with R.E.M.'s insufferably happy and shiny "Shiny Happy People" perhaps the best known of the lot for average movie-goers. But even the songs are inconsistent in style and genre, leaving this product as little more than a curious souvenir from the film. It's interesting to wonder what the late Elmer Bernstein (who had just passed away at the time) would think of the appearance of his Magnificent Seven theme in the film and on this album. People who loved Moore's endeavor will likely find the album be a somewhat cool addition to their Fahrenheit 9/11 experience, but if you haven't seen the film or were offended by it, then it will serve you no purpose. Looking back at it, maybe quotes from the film would have been the best thing to spice up an album that already had an "explicit lyrics" warning. **   Amazon.com Price Hunt: CD or Download