Roger & Me 1989

In a nostalgic yet irreverent tone, Michael Moore (Michael Moore), the self-taught documentary filmmaker, embarks on a journey of self-discovery by delving into his own eccentricities and family dynamics through 8 mm archival home movies. As he narrates in a distinctive voice-over, he paints himself as an unusual child, the product of Irish-American Catholic middle-class values and the son of a General Motors employee responsible for assembling AC Spark Plugs. This early introduction serves as a precursor to his later critiques of the automotive giant.

Moore’s childhood is deeply rooted in Flint, Michigan, where General Motors played a dominant role in shaping the city’s economy and social fabric. He highlights the significance of this industrial hub, which was also the site of the pivotal 1937 Flint Sit-Down Strike, giving birth to the United Auto Workers. As he reminisces about his youthful heroes, Moore pays tribute to the individuals who escaped the confines of GM’s factories, including musicians from Grand Funk Railroad, radio personality Casey Kasem, and the spouses of renowned conductors Zubin Mehta (Nancy Kovack) and Don Knotts. Notably, he also mentions Bob Eubanks, a game show host hailed as Flint’s most famous native son.

Initially, Moore achieves his dream of avoiding the monotony of blue-collar factory life that awaits many in Flint by relocating to California and taking up a position at a magazine in San Francisco. However, this venture ultimately falters, leading him back to his hometown. Upon his return in 1985, General Motors announces mass layoffs of auto workers in Flint, citing the relocation of the plant to Mexico as a cost-cutting measure, despite the company’s reported record profits. This pivotal moment sets the stage for Moore’s subsequent critiques of corporate America and its impact on working-class communities.

Here is the rephrased section:

As he assumes the guise of a Toledo-based TV journalist, Michael Moore (Michael Moore) ventures into Flint, immersing himself in conversations with auto factory workers. Their collective disdain for General Motors chairman Roger B. Smith becomes palpable, fueling his determination to confront the corporate titan directly. Undeterred by the security guards blocking his path at GM’s Detroit headquarters, Moore persistently seeks out Smith, only to be rebuffed by a company spokesperson who deems him lacking in credentials. This initial rejection sparks a cat-and-mouse game as Moore doggedly pursues Smith across various settings - from the exclusive Grosse Pointe Yacht Club to the staid Detroit Athletic Club.

As this relentless pursuit of truth unfolds, Moore shifts his focus to the human toll of plant closures on those around him. A poignant encounter with Ben Hamper, an auto worker now recovering at a mental health facility after suffering a nervous breakdown following his layoff, underscores the devastating emotional impact of these economic upheavals.

The city’s decline is vividly underscored in a montage set to the Beach Boys’ iconic tune “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?”, as crumbling urban landscapes and headlines detailing mounting layoffs, resident exodus, and an alarming rise in the rat population paint a stark picture of Flint’s decaying reality. Meanwhile, Moore also turns his lens on the affluent suburbs, where he observes the residents of places like Grand Blanc exhibiting a tone-deaf, classist response to the city’s economic struggles. A telling moment occurs at a Roaring 20’s themed party hosted by these suburbanites, who have hired laid-off workers to serve as “human statues”, exemplifying the stark disconnect between their privileged world and the struggling metropolis just beyond their gated communities.

As Michael Moore shifts his lens from the ravaged industrial landscape to the Flint Convention and Visitors Bureau, the latter’s hapless efforts to revitalize the town’s tourism industry come into stark relief. In an audacious attempt to lure visitors, the Bureau greenlights the construction of a Hyatt Regency Hotel, Water Street Pavilion – touted as the world’s largest indoor theme park – and AutoWorld, billed as an immersive experience. However, these grandiose projects promptly falter, with the Hyatt filing for bankruptcy, Water Street Pavilion’s stores shuttering, and AutoWorld closing its doors just six months after its vaunted opening. Moore wryly observes that human tragedy, rather than a magnet for tourists, is more likely to repel them.

In an effort to inject hope into the despondent community, well-known figures and celebrities make appearances in Flint. President Ronald Reagan stops by, offering advice to former auto workers to relocate across the country – an idea met with skepticism from those struggling to make ends meet. As Moore documents the mayoral administration’s attempts to boost morale, he captures a poignant moment when an unemployed factory worker pilfers the restaurant’s cash register during Reagan’s visit, highlighting the desperation that permeates every aspect of life in Flint.

The mayor, desperate for solutions, enlists the services of televangelist Robert Schuller to deliver sermons to the town’s beleaguered residents. Other notable visitors include Pat Boone and Anita Bryant, who had previously partnered with General Motors to promote their products. Boone shares his admiration for Roger Smith, describing him as a “can-do” leader. Moore also catches up with TV personality Bob Eubanks at a local fair, where the latter delivers an off-color joke that veers into anti-Semitic and homophobic territory.

Moore’s unobtrusive presence at the 1988 General Motors Shareholders Convention allows him to blend in as a shareholder, but his attempt to address the board of directors with concerns about the company’s treatment of Flint’s workers is thwarted when Roger Smith – seemingly recognizing Moore – has the meeting adjourned. As the camera lingers on Smith’s face, he cracks a joke with a fellow board member before departing, underscoring the callousness that pervades the corporate world.

As Moore delves deeper into the lives of Flint’s residents, he encounters a diverse cast of characters who are struggling to make ends meet in the wake of the devastating layoffs. One such individual is Janet (no actor specified), a former feminist radio host who has been forced to pivot and join Amway as a saleswoman in order to scrape together a living. Moore also meets James Bond, a former auto worker consumed by anger and frustration over the sudden loss of his livelihood.

However, it is Rhonda Britton, a resident of Flint who runs a peculiar business selling rabbits for consumption or companionship, who steals the spotlight with her unforgettable cameo. In a scene that would later earn the film an R-rating, Britton kills a rabbit on-camera by employing a rather brutal method involving a lead pipe. The rabbit’s valiant attempts to defend itself against its impending doom add a layer of complexity and poignancy to this jarring moment.

Throughout the film, the presence of Sheriff’s Deputy Fred Ross is a constant reminder of the harsh realities faced by Flint’s residents. A former General Motors employee who spent 17 years working at the plant before accepting his new role as a law enforcement officer, Ross is now tasked with carrying out evictions on families unable to pay their rent or mortgages. This added layer of stress and despair contributes to the already dire atmosphere in which the residents of Flint are living.

As the film progresses, the city’s crime rate skyrockets, with shootouts and murders becoming alarmingly common. The situation becomes so dire that when the ABC News program “Nightline” attempts to broadcast a live report on the plant closings, their van and equipment are stolen, abruptly terminating the broadcast. The desperation and hopelessness of living in Flint have reached a boiling point, prompting Money magazine to name it the worst place to live in America.

In response, the residents of Flint stage a rally where they burn copies of the offending magazine, a gesture that is both cathartic and futile. In an ironic twist, the protesters choose to play Bruce Springsteen’s “My Hometown” during the rally, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the song is actually about a town beset by crime and poverty. This jarring juxtaposition serves as a powerful commentary on the stark reality of life in Flint, where the lines between hope and despair are constantly blurred.

As the curtain closes on Michael Moore’s (Michael Moore) epic quest for truth, he finally corners Roger B. Smith (Roger B. Smith) at the 1988 Christmas message broadcast from Detroit, where the chairman’s words about generosity and kindness ring hollow in the face of a stark reality. As Smith drones on about the importance of giving during the holiday season, the camera pans out to reveal the devastating effects of his company’s policies elsewhere. The juxtaposition of Smith’s scripted speech with the eviction of another family from their home serves as a poignant reminder that not everyone is as fortunate.

Moore seizes the opportunity to confront Smith directly, pleading with him to bear witness to the struggles of those affected by General Motors’ factory closures. However, Smith remains evasive and dismissive, ultimately refusing Moore’s invitation to visit Flint and see the impact firsthand. As their exchange ends in disappointment, Moore is left to lament his failure to bring about change.

In a poignant coda, Moore stands amidst the rubble of a once-thriving GM factory, as construction workers tear down the remnants of an era that has long passed. With a mix of irony and resignation, he reflects on the state of the world, where the wealthy continue to accumulate wealth, while the poor are left behind. His wry observation about lint rollers serves as a biting commentary on the empty materialism that pervades modern society, leaving viewers with a sense of unease and discontent.

As the curtains close on the cinematic journey, a poignant postscript unfolds, leaving a lasting impression on the viewer. A stark, unflinching reminder of the harsh realities that exist beyond the silver screen, the film’s closing credits give way to a jarring, yet thought-provoking message: “This film cannot be shown within the city of Flint, for all the movie theaters have closed.” This haunting declaration serves as a poignant commentary on the cyclical nature of decay and abandonment, its implications lingering like the echoes of a forgotten melody.