Figure 1.The Sepia-toned palette and analog-dial interface create historicity on The Fog of War website. As you click on dates, new content loads into the image and text lozenges so that everything comes to you on a single page.

When you click on a date, the dial rotates until the date reaches a stopping point at 10 o’clock. Relevant video plays in the center while McNamara speaks. When he discusses moral boundaries he faced in war, the stop-action figure moves to the center again. His words scroll out in text to the right, underscoring the message and forcing you to think about it. The design team did a terrific job of selecting segments from the documentary and illustrating them with historical film clips. When he is talking about his work analyzing abort rates in bombing missions, the central screen shows charts, bombs falling through the air, and planes.

The surround screen shows a still image of his wife and child. When he is talking about his time at Ford, the exaggerated tail fins of a car sweep by, then reverse direction to show the more modest fenders of a later car. For the Cuban Missile Crisis segment, videos of missiles on launch pads are surrounded with a picture of a political event. Each image comments on the other, and both remark on the subject at hand.

Figure 2.

By using the strongest, most compelling segments and images, the website tells the central story in a matter of minutes, condensing the film without undermining its meaning. If you want more detail, you can click “related text” in the date lozenge. The dials go to white, and a scrolling window gives you a transcript of the full segment. The same visual treatment is given to extra clips, which you link to from the tiny ring of buttons on the left. The elaborate graphics go away, and the videos are displayed on a white field. When the designers choose to quote the movie directly, they step aside and let it speak for itself.

Other extras you can access from the ring of tiny links include the usual notes about the director, the production, the music, and so on. More importantly, there is a great deal of material that will extend and enrich your understanding of the issues McNamara raises. There are galleries of archival photographs from each era, which load into their own windows so you can see them full-size. There is an extensive list of links on every important person, institution, and event associated with the film, plus a book list on related subjects. In each case, the radio-dial interface slides away to let you focus on the content. Finally, there is a lesson plan, in PDF form, that teachers can use to bring history to life through McNamara’s story. Sony Pictures Classics and the people at The Chopping Block gave a lot of thought to honoring this material.

Instead of being a promotional trailer to lure you to see the movie, this site is a support vehicle with its own identity. It editorializes. It uses visual design to add historicity to the story, explore meanings, and evoke emotions. It adds archival material and bibliographic sources. It challenges you to come to your own conclusions about war, history, and the United States. And though it has its own visual language and editorial position, it doesn’t betray the sensibility of the film. It doesn’t betray the unusually frank, human posture of McNamara in the film. It gives us other ways to look at the content, and live with it.