In this blog post, we’ll examine how Michael Moore used humor and satire in the documentary “Roger & Me” to expose the imbalance between capital and labor, as well as the reality of the city of Flint.
“Roger & Me” is a truly fascinating documentary. Despite being a documentary, it is captivating and incredibly entertaining. Perhaps because I grew up watching TV documentaries—especially those focused on exposition—from a young age, the perception that documentaries are “something my dad watches,” “boring,” or “educational” seems to have unconsciously taken root in my mind. Watching this film, I was reminded of the unconscious biases I had held all along. It felt refreshingly different from the documentaries I used to watch out of a sense of duty, and it was so vibrant that I could hardly believe it was made in 1989. Above all, I loved the director’s signature sarcasm—that wry sense of humor.
From the very beginning, the film sets a tone that seems to declare, “I am different from others.” The director naturally introduces where he was born and what kind of city his hometown, Flint, is. Yet, this explanation is never boring. Instead, it unfolds as engagingly as a cheerful friend recounting stories from his childhood, drawing the audience in. Archival footage inserted at just the right moments further enhances the story’s appeal. For a moment, you might wonder if this is an autobiographical film. However, the story takes a turn when the director loses his job in California and returns to Flint. It is revealed that General Motors Chairman Roger Smith’s decision led to the closure of 11 factories, causing countless workers to lose their jobs overnight. This is the moment when Roger Smith, the figure in the film’s title, finally appears. Although he is mentioned several times thereafter, he remains a “hard-to-get” figure who never grants an interview. When thinking of documentaries featuring a name in the title, *Finding Vivian Maier* immediately comes to mind. Yet in this film, tracking down Roger Smith seems even more difficult than finding the late Vivian Maier. It’s bittersweet, but that’s the reality.
Throughout the film, Michael Moore wants to interview GM Chairman Roger Smith. He wants Roger Smith to see the reality of Flint with his own eyes. As if to avoid what he fears and despises, Roger Smith doesn’t show his face properly even once over the course of three years. Having lived in Korean society, it struck me that such an attempt would likely be difficult from the start. Although the interview ultimately failed, it seems Michael Moore believed that if he kept pushing, he might at least be able to secure an interview. Still, seeing how many people supported the director’s efforts, I couldn’t help but wonder if American society, at least in terms of freedom of expression, isn’t a society with some degree of potential. The fact that no external coercive force intervened, and above all, that this film was actually screened in theaters, demonstrates that point.
Furthermore, through the interview, Michael Moore wanted Roger Smith to meet the laid-off workers in person. His questions likely carried anger and demands such as, “Can you still say that after seeing them in person?” “Why did you make that decision?” and “Look at what you’ve done.” Of course, if he had even a shred of that sentiment, he might not have made that decision in the first place. However, Michael Moore’s efforts—running here and there driven by the conviction that he must do something for the underdog—are clearly palpable. This alone can already be considered an achievement, as the director’s message has been sufficiently conveyed. For Michael Moore, this crisis was by no means someone else’s problem; he likely could not have stood by and watched GM continue to grow as if nothing were wrong. Common sense told him that layoffs occur when a company faces financial difficulties. But that was a naive assumption. GM, one of the world’s largest corporations at the time, was closing factories even while generating massive profits.
Looking at this fact alone, Roger Smith might seem like a ruthless villain. However, Roger Smith, a former accountant, had designed his plan strictly around corporate profits. He intended to cut costs by laying off large numbers of workers and invest those funds into acquiring high-tech companies or weapons manufacturers. By citing financial difficulties, he could get the union to accept wage cuts amounting to billions of dollars, and the money saved would make it possible to build factories overseas. Ultimately, it was a strategy to take away workers’ jobs and relocate factories overseas in search of cheaper labor. To him, workers were likely nothing more than expendable commodities. Michael Moore’s family and friends, along with countless people in Flint, were suddenly left unemployed and pushed to the bottom of society by his decisions. The question naturally arises: can such actions truly have a positive impact on society in the long run?
Flint’s situation continues to deteriorate. The director ironically illustrates this process alongside the upbeat song “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by the Beach Boys. Have Roger Smith or people in similar positions ever experienced the feeling of discomfort that arises from watching a scene accompanied by such cheerful music? From this point on, Michael Moore presents various people connected to the Flint crisis through cross-cutting. We hear the perspectives not only of workers who lost their jobs overnight but also of ordinary people observing the situation, representing various social strata. While depicting this desperate reality, the director uses exquisite editing to ensure it doesn’t feel overly tragic. Although only the order of the scenes has changed, the flow of the editing subtly tugs at the audience’s emotions.
The reason I strongly felt the sarcasm of American humor while watching the film was precisely because of this editing and the music. While the subject matter itself is by no means light, there are moments that feel strangely uplifting thanks to the music selection and editing. This approach actually yields more effective results. If the director had stood solely from the victims’ perspective and maintained a thoroughly dark and tragic atmosphere, this film might have felt more like a melodrama than a documentary. Had the paradoxical yet calm and lighthearted atmosphere disappeared, it would have been difficult for the audience to watch until the end. Since the director’s goal was to get as many people as possible to watch this film, I believe this choice was very wise. That said, the director isn’t openly mocking Roger Smith or others. He’s simply presenting the facts. If it feels like he’s mocking someone, it’s because their actions make them appear self-contradictory.
Conversely, I wonder if audiences would have accepted it naturally had the film been presented from the outset as a political film about labor and capitalism, with its message thrust to the forefront. Even during interviews, Michael Moore sought first to break down people’s defenses and elicit honest responses while they were at ease. An interesting detail emerges from the director’s commentary. He notes that, though unintentional, the scenes featuring the wealthy appear bright and sunny, while those with the unemployed look dark and gloomy. He jokes, “It seems the rich only go outside when the weather is nice,” and laughs bitterly. Hearing that, I too felt a strange sense of bitterness, because the difference is conveyed naturally just by looking at the atmosphere of the screen.
Michael Moore interviews people in various locations. Even at the annual Gatsby Party in Flint, he asks questions about the city’s situation without fail. Ironically, at this party—which was started by one of GM’s founding executives—a scene is captured where a local resident stands motionless like a human statue. Watching that scene, I felt a strange mix of emotions, unsure whether to laugh or cry. The people dressed in expensive-looking clothes, calmly enjoying the party, simply repeat the phrase “It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do” in response to Michael Moore’s questions. One person even goes so far as to say, “Wake up in the morning and do something. There’s plenty of work in the world.” Another complains that the film emphasizes only the negative aspects. Is it truly that difficult for them to empathize with the misfortune of others? Perhaps many members of the upper class think similarly. To them, the suffering of the unemployed might sound like nothing more than the whining of lazy people. My small hope is that, while they are grateful to their parents for raising them not to think that way, they might also feel a sense of shame.
Immediately after this scene, the film shows the situation of the evicted residents. It follows Deputy Sheriff Fred Ross as he films the scene of a forced eviction. People are being evicted from their homes because unemployment benefits alone are not enough to cover expensive rent. Fred Ross is forcing them out in accordance with a court order. Sadly, he has no choice. It’s not just elderly retirees from GM; families with young children are no exception. Waiting for the truck to arrive and not throwing their belongings around carelessly is the greatest consideration he can offer. Whether they are acquaintances or strangers, the evictions continue.
Meanwhile, Michael Moore’s “search for Roger Smith” also continues. He scours places Roger Smith is known to visit, such as the Gross Point Yacht Club and the Detroit Athletic Club. Since he gets no response when he calls, he has no choice but to go there in person. However, the answers he receives are always the same: “I don’t know” or “Get out.” In fact, from the employees’ perspective, there’s nothing they can do. Since it’s their job, they’re not much different from Fred Ross, who forcibly evicts people. Ultimately, how many people are suffering because of a single decision made by Roger Smith? It feels like a massive butterfly effect. But the person at the center of it all fails to grasp that reality. Only the debate—without the person involved—echoes on and on.
Neither Bob Yuvings, the host from Flint, nor James Blanchard, who was Michigan’s governor at the time, can offer any meaningful answers when asked about the situation. All that comes back are mere formal expressions of regret. A spectacular parade takes place, but the expressions of the people watching from the streets seem somehow somber. Miss Michigan also tries her best to avoid Michael Moore’s questions. She is focused solely on the Miss America pageant to be held in two weeks. Michael Moore shifts the direction of his questions, bringing up the parade first to naturally steer the conversation. In the end, she does indeed become Miss America two weeks later.
The city of Flint makes various attempts to overcome the economic slump caused by unemployment. The mayor even spends $20,000 to host a sermon by Reverend Robert Schuller. On the surface, this seems like a meaningless gesture. After all, it’s unlikely that such prayers will help the unemployed find new jobs. However, considering the state of mind of people who have nothing left to hold onto, one cannot simply condemn those gathered there.
As part of a project to revive Flint, GM builds the Star Theatre and offers workers half-price tickets. The intention was to offer hope through lectures by celebrities. However, most of what they say amounts to nothing more than empty encouragement. It’s like slapping someone in the face and then trying to soothe them. Was GM trying to use the influence of celebrities to quell people’s discontent?
After GM’s restructuring, new types of jobs emerged in Flint. A woman named Janet became an Amway sales representative and started a new life after her husband was laid off from GM. Her performance, selling products while discussing “color theory,” is one of the film’s most memorable scenes. According to the director’s commentary, there were actually suggestions to cut this scene from the film. Fortunately, however, audiences were able to see Michael Moore appear just as he was—wearing a hood and wrapped in a cloth. In addition to Janet, the film features a woman who makes a living by slaughtering rabbits, as well as a young man who earns money by donating blood every day. These are far removed from the typical jobs one associates with the city. Amid these extreme circumstances, crime rises and prisons begin to fill up. Meanwhile, the wealthy leisurely enjoy playing golf. To them, the misfortune of local residents is simply someone else’s problem. As they play golf under the warm sunshine, their response is always the same: “It can’t be helped.”
Michael Moore hears that Roger Smith is set to receive the Car of the Year award at a New York business dinner and heads there. However, less than five minutes after arriving, a member of his film crew is dragged out chair and all, and Michael Moore heads back to the 14th floor of the GM headquarters only to be stopped by security. The path to meeting Roger Smith is endlessly arduous.
Meanwhile, the city of Flint promotes the tourism industry as a solution to unemployment. They build hotels and indoor amusement parks, but ultimately, all these efforts end in failure. This is because there was no consumer base to attract tourists. People naturally travel to cities with good weather and bustling streets; they do not seek out facilities built in the middle of a slum. The economic situation continues to deteriorate, and more than half of Flint’s citizens end up relying on government subsidies to survive. Meanwhile, Chairman Roger Smith’s annual salary had risen by a staggering $2 million. He was clearly an exceptional executive—at the very least, he knew exactly where his own interests lay. Even so, Tom Kay, a Flint native and GM spokesperson, defended the company to the very end. According to the director’s commentary, many people asked how he managed to secure an interview with Tom Kay. I was curious too. But the director’s answer was surprisingly simple: “I don’t know.” It was merely a guess that Tom Kay was someone who liked being on camera. I never expected the story of a documentary director’s successful interview to be so anticlimactic.
Ultimately, *Money* magazine named Flint one of the worst cities in the United States. Crime continues to rise, and prisons reach capacity. The city of Flint eventually builds a new, state-of-the-art five-story prison. Ironically, this, too, becomes a “new industry.”
Michael Moore finally attends the shareholders’ meeting by posing as a GM shareholder. However, the meeting ends without him even getting a chance to speak. After spending three years searching for Roger Smith, he begins to consider giving up. Even as Roger Smith delivers his Christmas message to employees, three evictions are taking place in Flint. But Michael Moore refuses to give up. He catches Roger Smith as he is coming down from the stage after his speech at the GM Christmas party. And he fires a surprise question at him.
“We’ve just come from filming people being thrown out onto the streets on Christmas Eve. They are factory workers. Would you like to come with us to Flint?”
Roger Smith replies indifferently.
“I’ve already been there. I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about it. It’s not GM’s business, so talk to the landlord.”
What a hollow ending. Perhaps it was a reality I already knew, but seeing it firsthand made the bitterness feel even more intense. If Roger Smith had acted like an outright villain, I might have felt less uneasy. But instead, he acts as if he were the victim. To him, working for the company’s profits, Michael Moore probably just looked like a persistent nuisance. What can one say to someone who thinks that way?
Nevertheless, Michael Moore’s goal was clear: to get as many people as possible to see this film.
And indeed, the film achieved commercial success while sparking significant social debate. Since then, Michael Moore has established himself as one of the world’s most influential documentary filmmakers through works such as *Bowling for Columbine*, *Fahrenheit 9/11*, and *Sicko*. In that sense, this film may have served as a starting point for him—and perhaps even a near-happy ending. I would like to conclude this piece by paying tribute to his self-proclaimed stance as a martyr.
Finally, I recall his last line in the film.
“I failed to bring Roger to Flint. But as the end of the 20th century approached, the wealth gap widened, and thanks to the dust collector made in my hometown, the dust decreased. And a new era was dawning.”
