Morris also cleverly juxtaposes official reports and documents - usually with dramatic phrases singled out for attention - with horrific pictures of the atrocities they describe. The sterile text and reports are indicative of the world McNamara inhabited, a world of words and ideas and strategies where collateral damage and civilian and military casualties are just columns on a spreadsheet. But the film, in many ways, is about McNamara coming to terms with the consequences of his decisions, and in several key points of the film, Morris cuts back and forth between the documents and the photographs, building a slow crescendo where ultimately the words and images become one and the same.

These sections are made even more effective by the haunting, note-perfect score by Philip Glass. Glass, an avant-garde composer who has lately done several film scores, has managed to create the perfect score to this film - leaping between tentative and thoughtful, with moments of frenzy. It reflects the film perfectly, and adds much to the film's overall feel.

Finally, Morris constructed a mirrored device called the "Interrotron" for his sessions with McNamara - so that McNamara was able to look directly at the camera, and see Morris instead. Indeed, the bulk of the film is McNamara looking straight at the audience, creating an intense feeling of candor. But the candor in this film is no trick of mirrors - this is a man who has seen much, and has allowed Morris a front row seat to the lessons he's learned. It is shocking both how much McNamara knew, and how utterly trapped he was in the fog of war despite that knowledge. This is an important film, one whose lessons are both timely and timeless.

Read More:

• Fog of War - Official Site


• Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara, The (2003) (IMDB)


• Fog of War Lesson Plan




• Read more from this reviewer at midnighthowl.com