TO CATCH A FACT: Audiences play detective in 'Suburban Fury' documentary

Anghus
Nov 6
3 min read

1975 was a dumpster fire of a year, a cynical cesspool of post-Watergate paranoia with a heaping helping of existential angst thanks to the senselessness of the Vietnam War. And who was the face of this malaise? Gerald Ford, the unelected accidental president, a walking monument to mediocrity. In a little over two weeks, two different people would attempt to assassinate the President. The first, Squeaky Fromme, was an acolyte of Charles Manson and hell-bent on causing chaos. The second was a far less likely assailant: a suburban housewife who had somehow managed to ingratiate herself with a number of radical groups in San Francisco while being an informant for the FBI. At the end of "Suburban Fury," a documentary from filmmaker Robinson Devor about this human enigma, I found myself thinking a lot about Pee-wee Herman.

First, there was a line from Tim Burton’s 1986 masterpiece, "Pee-wee’s Big Adventure," bouncing around my cerebellum like a pinball. A moment where the main character’s sanity circles the drain as he expresses his frustration to a captive crowd of friends and acquaintances with their inability to help him find his most prized possession: his custom, gorgeously accessorized bicycle. In the depths of his madness, he declares, "It's like you're unraveling a giant cable knit sweater, but someone just keeps knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting." This is how I felt watching Susan Moore recount her life and the events that led her to the precipice of murder. Second… well… we’ll get there.

The seemingly simple act of trying to capture her side of the story is an exhausting endeavor as Devor clashes with his subject as she shares her singular perspective of these events. Unlike most documentaries, Moore’s version of events is not refuted by experts but instead limited to news reporting of the time and official documentation that does little to provide an audience with the kind of critical insight that can help provide clarity. It doesn’t make her story any less compelling, but it also calls into question every utterance of her admission.

And that’s what makes a film like "Suburban Fury" so engaging. It’s less about the assassination attempt itself and more about the would-be assassin and either the series of events that radicalized her or the gold-medal caliber mental gymnastics performed to justify her choices. It’s a mystery wherein the viewer must try and deduce what is real and what is fake: an interactive interrogation session where the audience plays the role of lead detective.

Moore seems to have the kind of steadfast resolve that makes you want to believe her, but so many of her choices feel like those made by someone of far less character. She seemed to have unflinching empathy for the disenfranchised members of society being stepped on by an uncaring system. Yet, she was willing to cut ties with family, abandon children, and willfully deceive friends and lovers in order to embark on this crusade. There is friction between filmmaker and subject that reminded me of the recent two-part docu-series "Pee-wee As Himself" (told you we’d get there), where the desperation to control the narrative, and thus their legacy, becomes a fascinating undercurrent. So often, documentaries are portrayed as attempts at capturing the truth, but Moore is so unwilling to broach certain subjects and past relationships that it feels like a complete portrait of her life (without the benefit of alternate perspectives) is impossible for even the most accomplished documentarian.

Now, so far removed from the events, Moore delivers her version of the story with a kind of matter-of-fact assurance that you would expect to hear from an elderly aunt recounting something troubling she read about on Facebook, and Devor plays the part of a hapless nephew trying to explain all the gaps in her narrative. It’s a strange and sublime portrait of someone attempting to write their own eulogy. The truth feels an inconvenient aspect of her journey, but her confident assertion of all the events makes it feel impossible to determine if her version is real or the fabricated machinations of an incredibly passionate, articulate menace. Either way, it’s a fascinating portrayal of an unsolvable puzzle: a cable-knit sweater that stretches into infinity.

"Suburban Fury" will screen at the Cucalorus Film Festival on Saturday, Nov. 22,10 a.m. at Thalian Main Stage.