When Nonfiction Gets as Visceral as Fiction

I know people I’ve never met better than some I see on a regular basis. I even care for people who don’t exist more than for some who do. At least for a few hours or weeks. However, some of these people have stayed with me since I got a glimpse of their lives and then became part of their lives. I won’t ever forget a few of them.
I am a reader. A fiction reader.
And because I care more for protagonists and secondary characters, I rarely read nonfiction. And it is the same with movies.
Especially here in the USA, where screenplays and movie stars take us far from home and our little lives, for the time of a story.
However, last night I watched a documentary that has all the ingredients of an American movie. Action, suspense, greed, sex, money, a lot of money, lawyers and trials. There is a beginning, middle and end. The climax is phenomenal. What is missing though is the resolution. The exhale moment where the audience cheer for the good guys who win and the justice system who punishes the bad guys. The end is not satisfactory. By far.
The Inside Job won the Award of the Best Documentary last month. It should have then been mailed to every American household and school.
I still wonder after watching this larger than life (after all this is about America) documentary why none of us (okay a few did) went down the street urging our justice system to do their job.
I still wonder how we can accept the fact that every day people go to jail for stealing in a store while real burglars sit on our government.
This documentary has everything of a must read fiction book or must see movie.
And more.

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