The sometimes gullible but always readable Malcom Gladwell writes that Enron was a mystery, not a puzzle, in that even with all the information available, you would probably would have not predicted what happened. He makes a great point endemic to disclosure requirements:

The argument against the company, then, is more accurately that it didn’t tell its investors enough about its S.P.E.s (Special Purpose Entities). But what is enough? Enron had some three thousand S.P.E.s, and the paperwork for each one probably ran in excess of a thousand pages. It scarcely would have helped investors if Enron had made all three million pages public. What about an edited version of each deal? Steven Schwarcz, a professor at Duke Law School, recently examined a random sample of twenty S.P.E. disclosure statements from various corporations—that is, summaries of the deals put together for interested parties—and found that on average they ran to forty single-spaced pages. So a summary of Enron’s S.P.E.s would have come to a hundred and twenty thousand single-spaced pages. What about a summary of all those summaries? That’s what the bankruptcy examiner in the Enron case put together, and it took up a thousand pages. Well, then, what about a summary of the summary of the summaries? That’s what the Powers Committee put together. The committee looked only at the “substance of the most significant transactions,” and its accounting still ran to two hundred numbingly complicated pages and, as Schwarcz points out, that was “with the benefit of hindsight and with the assistance of some of the finest legal talent in the nation.”

Inevitably, disclosure requirements just increase the amount of bureaucratic information produced. What you want is only the pertinent information revealed, but you can't legislate that, so you get lots of verbiage instead.