Like no film I have ever seen
I finally feel like I have something to write about. There is a short list of movies that have kicked up the dust in the room and activated my tear ducts without my permission. Glory, Rudy, Field of Dreams, and you can now add United 93. This latest addition, however, is the only one to cause me physical injury. As I type this I am astounded to report that I emerged from the theatre with a strained right hamstring which was perfectly fine when I entered. This movie was so intense that I honestly held a muscle contraction for the duration.
I did not know anyone who lost their life on September 11th, 2001 nor do I know anyone who lost a loved one in the attacks. Still, this movie was a visceral experience. I decided to go see it for precisely that reason. I heard that it was raw and powerful and I was intrigued by the possibility of a movie going experience that went beyond simple entertainment. I was not prepared.
Many people are of the opinion that not enough time has passed since this tragedy. They say it’s too soon to be releasing a film about 9/11; that we need time to heal. I believe that there is a need for films that go beyond mere entertainment; a need for films that make us feel, that make us think. This movie needed to be viewed while the memories are still fresh. Not because the viewing audience needs to remember what they felt that day, I know I will never forget where I was or how I felt when I watched the towers fall. But because the actors needed to have those emotions near the surface. JFK was filmed 28 years after the assassination of President Kennedy. Twenty-eight years from now no one playing any of the young men and women whos’ heroics were depicted in this film would know what we all felt that day. Every one of us that saw the live coverage of the second plane hitting the towers and watched the news reports come in about the actions of the passengers of United Flight 93 thought the same thing, “What must have been going through their minds?”
One reason the picture is so forceful is the strength of the acting. For me, the suspension of disbelief was almost absolute. I lamented the inclusion of recognizable actors Rebecca Schull and David Rasche not because of their performances (they were fantastic) but because it momentarily disrupted my total immersion in the film when I thought “What the hell is Sledge Hammer doing here!?” With that one exception I didn’t feel like I was watching a performance. I felt like I was watching real people. As I sat watching these people come to grips with their fate and making gut wrenching final calls to their loved ones I succumbed to the emotions and the tears trickled down my cheeks. I wondered if others in the theatre were doing the same but I couldn’t look away from the screen.
The film also derives much of its intensity from the fact that all of the scenes are shot from the point of view of a participant. Everything is shot relatively close and from angles that insert you into the action. When the terrorists pass through a security checkpoint it’s as if you are standing behind them in line. You feel like you are in the huddle as military officers struggle to get a handle on the situation. When the heroes rush and overtake their captor you are just off the lead man waiting for your opportunity to pummel that son of a bitch. Finally, the movie ends with a view through the cockpit as the plane spirals toward that Pennsylvania field.
Another reason this movie is so unbelievably potent is that this actually happened and you already know the outcome. The inevitable tragic end is the lens through which you view all of the characters’ actions. It lends profound meaning to every moment. When the air traffic controller’s supervisor fails to grasp the situation you get irritated. When a passenger hustles aboard at the last second, happy he didn’t miss his flight, your heart sinks. When a stewardess mentions in passing that she’s going to cut back on flights to spend time with her babies, it breaks.
As the closing credits rolled I held my head in my hands, wiped my eyes, and tried to collect myself. Nobody in the theatre made a sound as we shuffled out into the lobby. Though I was still somewhere inside myself and in no mood to talk the young man next to me offered his assessment, “Kinda makes you want to kick some Al Queda Ass doesn’t it?”
I responded with a grunt appearing to agree, but as I walked to my car I attempted to asses my own feelings. I didn’t feel anger. I felt a tremendous respect for those people that, in the absolute moment of truth, were able to find something in themselves that was stronger than their fear. I also felt a profound sadness for the families of those that died. I only hope that in time a sense of pride will, in some small measure, ease their pain.
I did not know anyone who lost their life on September 11th, 2001 nor do I know anyone who lost a loved one in the attacks. Still, this movie was a visceral experience. I decided to go see it for precisely that reason. I heard that it was raw and powerful and I was intrigued by the possibility of a movie going experience that went beyond simple entertainment. I was not prepared.
Many people are of the opinion that not enough time has passed since this tragedy. They say it’s too soon to be releasing a film about 9/11; that we need time to heal. I believe that there is a need for films that go beyond mere entertainment; a need for films that make us feel, that make us think. This movie needed to be viewed while the memories are still fresh. Not because the viewing audience needs to remember what they felt that day, I know I will never forget where I was or how I felt when I watched the towers fall. But because the actors needed to have those emotions near the surface. JFK was filmed 28 years after the assassination of President Kennedy. Twenty-eight years from now no one playing any of the young men and women whos’ heroics were depicted in this film would know what we all felt that day. Every one of us that saw the live coverage of the second plane hitting the towers and watched the news reports come in about the actions of the passengers of United Flight 93 thought the same thing, “What must have been going through their minds?”
One reason the picture is so forceful is the strength of the acting. For me, the suspension of disbelief was almost absolute. I lamented the inclusion of recognizable actors Rebecca Schull and David Rasche not because of their performances (they were fantastic) but because it momentarily disrupted my total immersion in the film when I thought “What the hell is Sledge Hammer doing here!?” With that one exception I didn’t feel like I was watching a performance. I felt like I was watching real people. As I sat watching these people come to grips with their fate and making gut wrenching final calls to their loved ones I succumbed to the emotions and the tears trickled down my cheeks. I wondered if others in the theatre were doing the same but I couldn’t look away from the screen.
The film also derives much of its intensity from the fact that all of the scenes are shot from the point of view of a participant. Everything is shot relatively close and from angles that insert you into the action. When the terrorists pass through a security checkpoint it’s as if you are standing behind them in line. You feel like you are in the huddle as military officers struggle to get a handle on the situation. When the heroes rush and overtake their captor you are just off the lead man waiting for your opportunity to pummel that son of a bitch. Finally, the movie ends with a view through the cockpit as the plane spirals toward that Pennsylvania field.
Another reason this movie is so unbelievably potent is that this actually happened and you already know the outcome. The inevitable tragic end is the lens through which you view all of the characters’ actions. It lends profound meaning to every moment. When the air traffic controller’s supervisor fails to grasp the situation you get irritated. When a passenger hustles aboard at the last second, happy he didn’t miss his flight, your heart sinks. When a stewardess mentions in passing that she’s going to cut back on flights to spend time with her babies, it breaks.
As the closing credits rolled I held my head in my hands, wiped my eyes, and tried to collect myself. Nobody in the theatre made a sound as we shuffled out into the lobby. Though I was still somewhere inside myself and in no mood to talk the young man next to me offered his assessment, “Kinda makes you want to kick some Al Queda Ass doesn’t it?”
I responded with a grunt appearing to agree, but as I walked to my car I attempted to asses my own feelings. I didn’t feel anger. I felt a tremendous respect for those people that, in the absolute moment of truth, were able to find something in themselves that was stronger than their fear. I also felt a profound sadness for the families of those that died. I only hope that in time a sense of pride will, in some small measure, ease their pain.
posted by Pudge | 1:00 AM
3 Comments:
Great blog NS. I'm gonna see the movie now. Didn't want to before.
I have been known to over do the flowery prose on occassion, but simply put, its an amazing film.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
:-P
Post a Comment
<< Home