Fahrenheit 11/9 ★★ 

“Was it all a dream?” Michael Moore intones in a voice-over at the start of his latest piece of agit-pop filmmaking, which begins with a recap of election night in November of 2016. As bad as it was watching the results then, it’s no easier watching Moore repackage the events in a horrifying montage as a hostile takeover. Still, I’m not sure of the audience he’s trying to convince when later in the picture he dubs Trump’s voice over footage of Hitler. We get it: The dream has become a nightmare. This is but one part of Moore’s overreaching whole, which barely stands as one of his most unfocused works to date. In attempting to take the current temperature of the country, he’s stuffed enough material into his 128-minute running time to fill at least four movies—except there’s little connective tissue to tie it all together, nor does a cohesive thesis emerge by the end. Nevertheless, there is periodic illumination to be found, especially during the sections where Moore returns to his hometown of Flint, Michigan, to shed light on the toxic water that still plagues the poor community. Surprisingly, he even condemns Obama’s handling of the crisis, which Moore says was enough to disenfranchise lifelong Democrats who’d rather stay home than vote. Strong stuff. Almost as potent is his visit with the Parkland survivors who’ve been touring America by bus, advocating for gun reform prior to the midterms. There’s no doubt that these kids are the heroic keys to a brighter future—but they deserve a better platform to rally from than Moore’s scattershot mess of a film. (At Assembly Row, Boston Common, Coolidge Corner, Fenway, Seaport, South Bay and in the suburbs.)