The NYT's Manohla Dargis thinks Paul Greengrass's United 93 is the American feel-bad film of the year. There's just one problem ...
An excerpt:
Mr. Greengrass has worked hard to honor the victims, as has the studio releasing the film. The whole production has arrived in a hush of solemnity; the notes given to the press even include biographies of the crew and passengers, some by family members. But because Mr. Greengrass treats everyone onboard as equals (no one is a star, on screen or off), and because he throws us into the story without telling us who they are, they never become individuated. They are the guy in the baseball cap, the weeping woman, the man bleeding to death on the floor. More than anything, they are the instruments of the narrative's inexorable momentum, helping to push the story forward with their confused whispers, desperate plans and, finally, stunningly bold action.
Working with the talented cinematographer Barry Ackroyd, who has brought a gritty neo-realist touch to a number of Ken Loach's films, and a trio of crack editors (Clare Douglas, Christopher Rouse and Richard Pearson), Mr. Greengrass puts us in the middle of the fast-escalating mayhem amid a flurry of smash edits, raging voices and pooling blood.
As the camera whips from one location to the next, a few faces come sharply into focus, in particular that of Ben Sliney, the operations manager who was actually running the F.A.A. command center the morning of Sept. 11. Mr. Sliney is one of nine F.A.A. and military personnel who play themselves; you only have to hear Maj. James Fox, from the Northeast Air Defense Sector, ask where the president and vice president are to understand why.
"United 93" is a sober reminder of the breakdown in leadership on the morning of Sept. 11. Unlike Michael Moore's "Fahrenheit 9/11," the film doesn't get into the whereabouts of the president that day, or why Osama bin Laden ordered the attack; its focus is purposely narrow. But that narrow focus, along with the lack of fully realized characters, and the absence of any historical or political context, raises the question of why, notwithstanding the usual (if shaky) commercial imperative, this particular movie was made. To jolt us out of complacency? Remind us of those who died? Unite us, as even the film's title seems to urge? Entertain us?
To be honest, I haven't a clue. I didn't need a studio movie to remind me of the humanity of the thousands who were murdered that day or the thousands who have died in the wars waged in their name. That's one reason why the arguments about whether it's too soon for a film about the attack rings hollow and seriously off the point.
Sept. 11 has shaped our political discourse and even infiltrated our popular culture, though as usual Hollywood has been awfully late to that table. Yet five years after the fact and all the books, newspaper and magazine articles, committees and scandals later, I think we need something more from our film artists than another thrill ride and an emotional pummeling. "United 93" inspires pity and terror, no doubt. But catharsis? I'm still waiting for that.